The Escape: The gripping, twisty thriller from the #1 bestseller. C.L. Taylor
I say, ‘Can I ring my husband?’
DS Merriott glances down at the notepad in his hands. ‘Max Blackmore,’ he says, more to himself than me. ‘Journalist at the Bristol News. The information we received specifically pertains to you, although, if anything is recovered, we will need to talk to your husband too.’
I feel a pulse of panic. ‘Please! I need to tell him what’s going on.’
A muscle twitches in his jaw. ‘I’m afraid that’s not possible.’
The two young police officers move from Max’s office to the kitchen. Cupboard doors open and shut, glass tinkles and crockery clatters as they continue their search. There has to have been a mistake, that’s the only explanation for what’s going on. Max is vehemently anti-drugs and I haven’t taken recreational drugs since I was in my twenties. This has to be down to Paula.
‘I think I know why this is happening,’ I say and DS Merriott give me a sharp look. ‘Did someone called Paula tell you I was dealing drugs?’
‘I’m not at liberty to reveal details, Mrs Blackmore. All I can say is that a warrant wouldn’t have been granted without good reason.’
Exasperation makes my chest tighten but I keep my voice low and controlled as I tell him about Paula. As I speak, DS Merriott watches me intently but he doesn’t move. His hands remain in his lap, one on his thigh, the other covering his notebook.
I pause for breath. ‘Why aren’t you writing this down? It could be important.’
‘Possibly. What did your husband say when you told him about these incidents?’
‘Well I … I only told him about the first time it happened. I didn’t tell him about the second time because … because …’ What do I say? I can’t tell DS Merriott about me pushing Paula or taking Dad’s medication and then forgetting to collect Elise from school. ‘Because Max didn’t take me seriously when I told him about the first incident. He said he didn’t know a Paula. But he’s a crime reporter. I imagine lots of people have a grudge against him. Whoever she is she knows him and she’s been threatening me and my daughter.’
‘And you didn’t think to report this?’
‘No. Well. I did. I spoke to someone but I … I changed my mind. I thought Paula would leave me alone. But she hasn’t. She’s done this.’
One of the young male police officers appears in the doorway to the living room. He holds out a gloved hand, his fingers almost completely enclosing whatever lies in his palm, but not quite. I can see the corner of a clear plastic bag protruding from beneath his curled little finger.
‘Sarg,’ he says. ‘We’ve found something.’
‘Please.’ I have to fight to control my breathing as DS Merriott leads me towards a black Ford Focus and opens the door. ‘I told you. Paula’s behind this. I don’t do drugs. Neither does my husband.’ I look up into the detective’s expressionless face. ‘Please, if we could just wait until Max gets home he’ll back me up.’
‘We’ll talk at the station.’
DS Merriott puts a hand on the top of my head and lightly pushes me towards the back seat of the car. I twist around and look over my shoulder, searching for a glimpse of my daughter. She’s got to come to the station with me because there’s no one else to look after her. I was allowed to put her coat and shoes on as one of the male officers took Elise’s car seat out of my car then the female officer took over.
‘Mummy!’ The door on the other side of the car opens and my daughter’s curly blonde head appears. She scrabbles across the seats and parks herself in the car seat in the middle as the female officer gets in beside her.
Elise watches me intently as I strap her in. If I give into the fear that is building inside me she’ll become scared too.
DS Merriott, in the driver’s seat, glances back at us and I feel myself grow hotter and hotter under his appraising gaze. The metal frame of the car feels like it’s closing in and the air feels too thick and cloying to breathe.
‘Could you open it?’ I gesture at the closed window to my right. ‘I need some air.’
‘Mummy?’ Elise’s tiny fingers weave their way through mine. ‘Mummy?’
‘Are you going to be sick?’ DS Merriott asks over the electronic drone of the window being lowered.
I’m too panicky to speak so I incline my head towards the window, take a deep breath of cold February air and count to three in my head as I inhale. I do the same as I exhale. I imagine myself on holiday in Rhodes with two friends, a long time before I met Max. I am lying on my back in the sea, sculling with my hands. My eyes are closed and I can feel the warmth of the sun on my face. I can hear the muffled sound of my friends’ laughter. I feel safe, peaceful, relaxed, happy. An intrusive thought pops into my mind, of the two police officers staring at me, judging me, thinking I’m mad, but I push it away. I am not in any danger. Nothing bad is going to happen to me.
It feels like for ever before I am calm enough to speak. I sit forward in my seat, the back of my shirt clinging damply to my back, and make eye contact with DS Merriott in the rear-view mirror. I’m too ashamed to tell him what just happened.
‘I’m OK now.’ I reach an arm around my daughter’s shoulders and pull her into me. ‘Mummy’s OK.’
In the last two hours I’ve been interviewed, photographed and had my fingerprints and DNA taken. I nearly had another panic attack when the female officer said she was taking Elise to a separate room but DS Merriott put a steadying hand on my arm and said, ‘The calmer you are the quicker we can do this. You don’t want your little girl to get upset, do you?’ So I played along; I gave Elise my best ‘happy, excited Mummy smile’ and told her to have fun with the nice lady while Mummy had a quick chat with the policeman.
I felt like I was in a film, or a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from, as the Duty Sergeant told me that I was under arrest on suspicion of the possession of controlled drugs. The questions came thick and fast. Do you want a solicitor? Do you have any illness or injury? Are you suffering from any mental ill health or depression? Are you taking or supposed to be taking any tablets/medication? Have you ever tried to harm yourself?
‘No,’ I replied to every question. I just wanted it to stop. For them to bring Elise back to me and let us go home. ‘Can I ring my husband? Please! I’m allowed a phone call, aren’t I? He’ll tell you that this was down to Paula. She knows where we live. She’s been following and threatening me!’
I was told that they’d ring Max in due course and then my belongings were taken away and placed in a clear plastic bag. I did everything I was told, moving zombie-like as I opened my mouth and held out my hand, but then I began to shake. They’d found drugs in my house. I didn’t know how many they’d found, or where. All I knew was what DS Merriott had said to the Duty Sergeant – that they’d found a quantity of class A and class B drugs hidden in my home.
My panic increased as DS Merriott led me through a maze of different corridors. I tried to memorise the route we were taking – a right, then a left, then another left. By the time the detective pushed open the door to a tiny interview room, I was dripping with sweat and struggling to breathe. I took one look at the cramped space, strip-lighting and lack of window and shook my head.
‘I can’t.’
‘Mrs Blackmore, please don’t make this difficult.’
‘I suffer from agoraphobia and panic attacks. If we go into that room and you shut the door …’
DS Merriott looked at me with a kind of weariness that suggested that he’d had the shittiest of shit days and he