Everything is Beautiful by Eleanor Ray (best classic romance novels txt) 📕

be at work. She didn’t have the number, but Jack might. He worked shifts, so there was a chance he’d be at home. She scrolled through her numbers until she found the landline for Chantel and Jack. She didn’t think Chantel would mind being disturbed at work. This was an emergency.

‘Who’s that?’ Jack snapped.

‘It’s Amy,’ she said, then paused at the silence on the line. ‘Amy Ashton,’ she clarified.

‘Why are you phoning?’

‘Sorry,’ said Amy. ‘You sound tired.’

‘No,’ said Jack, ‘I’m not tired. Why would I be?’

Amy had no answer to that. ‘Sorry,’ she said again. ‘I was hoping to speak to Chantel.’

‘She’s at work,’ said Jack. ‘Why would she be here?’

‘I know she’s at work,’ said Amy, thinking she’d never heard Jack be this rude before. ‘Can I have her number there? It’s urgent.’

‘I don’t have it,’ said Jack.

‘Oh,’ said Amy, not really believing him. ‘I suppose I could try to find it online.’

Silence greeted her on the line. ‘Actually, we’ve had a bit of an argument,’ said Jack. ‘If you must know, she didn’t come home last night.’

‘Neither did Tim,’ said Amy.

‘You don’t think . . . ’ began Jack.

‘Of course not,’ said Amy. But the seed had been planted.

Amy had never been a big reader of newspapers. When she read, she liked novels. Beautiful books with stories where people made mistakes and learned from them and grew. The papers were full of people doing terrible things to each other and never getting any better. Not to her taste at all.

But after Amy reported Tim missing, the news was suddenly relevant. It wasn’t some story about something awful that had happened a long way away and that would never affect her. There could be news in there about Tim. And about Chantel.

She found herself collecting all the papers when the story first broke. It was never headline news, even in the local papers. But there was something about the disappearance, at least at first. After a day or so the stories grew shorter, but still Amy bought all the papers, hoping for more.

Amy spent hours at the police station, making statement after statement. She had endless cups of sweet, tepid tea and was assured again and again that the police were doing everything in their power. Jack was a godsend, explaining the process to her and keeping her updated on every development.

Except there were very few developments. No one seemed to know anything. It was as if they’d vanished into thin air.

Eventually Jack sat her down and told her, off the record, what his colleagues believed. Chantel and Tim had run away to start a new life together. Jack and Amy were collateral damage.

Amy refused to believe it, and scoured the papers for more news. Perhaps even a message in the personals. She called Tim’s friends again and again, and made a nuisance of herself in both their offices.

She had to find them and she felt sure that she would. She had to tell Tim about the baby.

No matter what he had done, he needed to know that he was going to be a father.

‘Hello there, Amy.’ Jack smiled at her. ‘I don’t do house calls much any more, but I thought I’d make an exception, seeing as how we’re old friends.’ He went to move inside but Amy stood her ground. ‘Can I come in?’ he asked, clearly expecting her to say yes.

Amy slammed the door.

It wouldn’t close. Amy looked down. Jack had his foot in the doorway in a well-practised manoeuvre. She looked at him through the narrow gap and realised she was trembling.

‘What’s the problem, Amy?’ asked Jack, his voice casual, although she could see beads of sweat on his forehead, betraying him. ‘I got your message. I’m sure I can clear it right up. Let me in.’

Her message. Of course. She’d asked him why he didn’t raise the alarm earlier when Chantel disappeared.

She knew now.

Because he’d killed Tim. And Chantel, the only witness, had fled.

The only witness, who’d escaped him for years.

And who was drinking wine in her kitchen.

‘Not now,’ said Amy, trying to erase the terror from her voice. ‘Jack,’ she added loudly, for Chantel’s benefit. Jack looked at her, suspicion registering in his face. She attempted a smile but her mouth wasn’t cooperating.

‘Have you got company?’ he asked.

They both heard a noise from inside, the thud of something falling.

Jack didn’t need a second prompt. He charged at the door, slamming into it with his shoulder. The door flung open, its force pushing Amy into her hallway wall. Hard. She hit her head on the shelf and sent one of the bottles flying. It fell to the ground and smashed. Amy sank down next to it. Jack barged past her, crushing a piece of glass beneath his shoe. Amy stared at the shards for a moment, feeling dizzy.

Amy reached her hand to the pain on her head and felt a warm wetness. She looked at her fingers.

Blood.

Jack returned from the kitchen. Amy looked up. Chantel must have escaped through the back door. Amy took a deep breath and tried to pull herself together.

Jack was dangerous and she was alone. Now was not the time for confrontations. Amy tried to swallow down the fury she felt for Jack, and ignore the pounding in her head.

He was looking at her, concern in his features. ‘God, Amy,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to . . . ’ He reached out a hand to help her up, but Amy flinched away. ‘It’s just when I heard the sound, I thought it might be an intruder,’ he said, clearly lying.

‘I’d like you to leave now.’

‘Don’t be like that,’ said Jack. ‘It was an accident. That shelf . . . ’ ‘Please go.’

‘I really think I should stay,’ said Jack. ‘You can’t be too careful with head injuries.’

It was too much.

‘Get out of my house,’ she said, unable to contain her anger.

‘What’s going on, Amy?’ he asked. His voice was harder now, any concern he