Every Little Secret by Ruby Speechley
English | 2020 | Mystery & Thriller | ePUB | 2.8 MB
She believed the lies… The truth will destroy her.
Maddy Saunders’ life is unravelling. After the heartbreaking, unexpected death of 5-year-old daughter Chloe, she’s trying desperately to keep her family together for other daughter, Emily. But when the police inform her that husband Max is missing, the rucksack found at the bottom of a local canal leading them to believe he has taken his own life, her grief takes a new and sharper turn.
Unable to believe that Max would abandon her and Emily, Maddy desperately searches for clues as to what has happened to her husband. But as she delves deeper into his secrets, Maddy finds a web of betrayal that forces her to re-examine everything about the life they have built together.
Maddened by grief, and forced into untangling Max’s lies, Maddy will stop at nothing to uncover the truth – even if it destroys her in the process.
Maddy is in the garden deadheading roses when a ring of the doorbell splinters the silence. Poppy and Daisy bark and run around her legs.
‘Go away,’ she says under her breath and twists off another flower, scattering petals on the lawn. Only strangers come to the front. The ring is more insistent now. She kicks off her sandals at the back door and pads along the hallway.
‘Mrs Saunders?’ A policeman and policewoman are standing there, blocking the light; the man has his foot up on the porch step, thumbs hooked either side of his padded vest.
Maddy’s mouth opens but she doesn’t speak. Instead she grips the door handle a little tighter.
‘PC Dolan and this is PC Wright. May we come in?’
Maddy stands aside. Their shoes are caked in cut grass, the fresh smell unlocked by the mower earlier. The dogs sniff at the half-empty bin liner in PC Dolan’s hand.
‘If it’s about my car…’ She pushes a tendril of hair behind her ear.
He shakes his head as though she’s told a bad joke. ‘Is your husband Mr Max Saunders?’
Maddy nods. A spike of heat shoots through her head.
‘Can you tell us where he is?’ PC Wright towers over them. She stamps her feet on the mat, scattering clumps of grass across the parquet floor.
‘He works away; he’s in Buckinghamshire this week.’
Maddy follows her line of vision, where she is taking in the child-size church pew and the row of various sized shoes neatly paired underneath.
‘Poppy, Daisy, come away.’ But they continue to push their noses at the bulging bin liner. Maddy invites them in and closes the door behind them.
‘Is there somewhere we can sit?’ Their faces are almost lost against the flowery wallpaper. They’re not smiling. She shows them into the living room and lowers herself into the armchair facing the French windows. Her heart is galloping. PC Dolan’s uniform creaks as he perches his substantial weight on the edge of the sofa, his legs astride to keep his balance. PC Wright sits next to him her hands clasped together.
‘I’m afraid I have some bad news.’ PC Dolan’s fingers form a cradle in front of him.
‘Let me fetch you a drink.’ Maddy springs up. Her throat pulses as if a hand is squeezing her neck.
‘This isn’t going to be easy for you.’ He pushes himself up, so they are facing each other. A missed cluster of spiky hair on his jaw moves when he speaks. She pushes away a nervous smile. He nods, touches her elbow and they sit down again in unison. ‘We believe your husband fell from a bridge over Yeading Brook, in Uxbridge, at around 1.55 a.m.’ He refers to a notebook from his breast pocket. ‘So far we’ve only recovered a rucksack.’