The Silent Suspect, Nell Pattison [best free ebook reader for android TXT] 📗

felt sure they were missing something, though, something big, and I hoped they would continue investigating until they were certain they had the right man.

As I was making some notes and writing down every question that came into my mind, my phone vibrated with an incoming text. It was Max. Usually, his messages would cheer me up, but since Tuesday night I felt a sense of dread when I saw his name on the screen. I knew he was going to want an answer about moving in together soon, but I’d been avoiding even thinking about it, let alone had made up my mind.

Do you want to come over tonight? xx his message read.

I thought for a moment before typing my reply. Sure. Pizza?

Of course xx

Thursday night pizza was a regular habit of ours, and it was comforting to see he still wanted to stick with our usual routine. I would have to think about what I wanted to say to him before I saw him, though.

That evening, I sat in my car outside Max’s flat for about ten minutes before I plucked up the courage to go in. He’d given me a key a few weeks earlier, and with hindsight I should have realised what he was building up to ask me. I still felt the urge to ring the bell, as if letting myself in would indicate that I’d made up my mind to move in with him, but I shook it off.

He was in the kitchen when I walked in, and I hesitated before stepping forward into his outstretched arms. If he noticed, he didn’t comment. I tried to remind myself that I wasn’t questioning my relationship with Max, just whether I wanted to live with him or not. But now that I was feeling resistant to moving our relationship further forward, a little voice at the back of my mind kept making itself heard – was this what I really wanted? I quietened it for now, determined to relax and enjoy my evening with him.

You’re later than I expected, he signed. Busy day?

I nodded. I was trying to get some emails sorted, jobs for next week, I replied. It wasn’t completely untrue. Before I left the flat, I’d decided to make a start on organising my taxes. Of course, my tax return didn’t have to be submitted until January next year, but there was nothing wrong with being prepared. I definitely wasn’t finding things to do in order to delay coming over to his flat. Absolutely not.

Well, it’s time to put your feet up, he said with a grin, opening the fridge and pulling out a beer for himself and pouring me a glass of wine. I took it from him and clinked my glass against his, then put it down on the table.

I’m working tomorrow, and driving home tonight, I reminded him. But one glass will be okay.

He held his hands up. You’re right, I’m sorry. What are you doing tomorrow?

Something for Sasha, I told him. One of her clients is in a bit of a tight spot.

I stopped short of telling him I’d let myself get tangled up in another police investigation, though. We’d met when he was linked to the first case I’d worked on for the police. I’d become too involved, with Anna ending up getting hurt, and ever since then he bristled at the idea of me being caught up with another investigation.

I thought they only paid you to interpret for Sasha from Monday to Wednesday? he replied, a slight frown tugging at his eyebrows. I resisted the urge to sigh.

They do, but this client needs support, and it can’t wait until Monday.

He nodded. Okay. Just make sure they’re not taking advantage of you.

I can look after myself, I told him, my signing a bit sharper than usual, and he held up his hands again.

Okay, I’m sorry. I’m just trying to look after you.

I nodded, and didn’t reply. He’d been doing this a lot recently, and I understood that he meant well, but it was starting to feel claustrophobic. Having been in a controlling relationship before, I was constantly on the alert for signs of manipulation, but Max’s attitude didn’t feel at all like gaslighting, it just felt a little patronising.

Stepping forward, Max pulled me into a hug. For a very brief moment I resisted, but then let myself relax into it. If he hadn’t asked me to move in, I wouldn’t have an issue right now, I told myself. Sure, some of the things he said irritated me a little, but he meant well, and he cared about me. But if they were irritating me so much I didn’t want to move in with him, the little voice in the back of my mind said, maybe they were bigger issues than I thought? Once again I ignored the voice and smiled up at Max.

How is your week going?

He nodded. Pretty good. It’s going to be an intense few weeks until the summer, though. We’ve got a couple of kids doing their SATs, and the revision has already put a lot of pressure on our team.

Max worked as a teaching assistant at a school in Hull that had a specialist unit for deaf children, and he was passionate about his job. I let him tell me all about his week, trying hard to concentrate on what he was signing, but my mind kept drifting back to the huge elephant in the corner of the room. Once he’d finished, we went through to the living room and sat on the sofa. He shifted round so his back was against the arm of the sofa, and gave me a searching look.

So, are we going to talk about the other night? He was obviously trying to keep it light-hearted, but the way his eyes roved across my face, trying to read my expression, I could tell he’d been thinking about nothing else.

Of course we can talk about it, I replied, trying to give him