Free The Silent Twin by Unknown Page A

when he had introduced himself as her long-suffering husband. It had started out as a joke, but after a few years of marriage the words were delivered with an ugly edge that only she could hear. People would laugh, saying he had the perfect family; a beautiful wife, two children, and a career in the police. Nick would raise his glass and smile, toasting his good fortune.
    Joanna dropped the sleeve, trying to understand why her husband had grown to despise her so much. Perhaps despise was too strong a word. At best he tolerated her. At worst . . . he frightened her. She had gone over it so many times in her head. She had rushed him into marriage, just like she had railroaded him into having children. But he could have said no, he could have changed his mind. He was a police sergeant, and it wasn’t as if she was holding a gun to his head.
    She looked beyond the vanity table to the window, where a gentle breeze billowed against the nets. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the smell of the countryside. Abigail was out there. Her baby. Joanna’s hand dropped to her stomach, where she bore the faded stretch marks of her twin pregnancy. And now the police were invading her house, with their constant questions and buzzing radios, issuing press releases for her child’s safe return. But Joanna knew from their guarded expressions they didn’t believe that would happen. A vision of Abigail rose in her mind, the edges soft and blurry. She was just a little girl, who couldn’t sleep without a glass of milk before bedtime. She called a hug a ‘huggle’, and had a cute way of mispronouncing her words. And she was oh, so beautiful, the brighter spark of the two. Pure and innocent, she didn’t understand the concept of stranger danger, because she saw the good in everyone. Particularly in people that didn’t deserve it. ‘God help me,’ Joanna groaned, her chest tightening as a cold flood of dread spread throughout her senses. It brought with it crushing physical pain, and she caught her breath to accommodate it. Abigail, her marriage, everything was crumbling. Her world was crashing down around her and there was nothing she could do about it. Her breathing quickened as the onset of a panic attack threatened to overtake her. She stretched the bracelet back, further than the elastic would allow, and it snapped hard against her wrist. Coloured beads spilled on the floor as it broke, and Joanna gratefully lost herself in the distraction.

Chapter Fifteen
    T he press appeal passed without event, and Jennifer could at least breathe a sigh of relief that Joanna had left the talking to her husband. Her expressionless gaze was an improvement on the smile she had worn during her last interview, and Jennifer wondered if she was thinking of Abigail, or the vicious online hate campaign launched against her. Apart from some probing questions about how Joanna was feeling, the press conference focused on Abigail’s disappearance, rather than the gaudy headlines published in the local rag. Jennifer watched from the sidelines as Nick sweated under the glare of the lamps, flashbulbs popping, choking on his words. He took Joanna’s hand and squeezed, a small show of support, which elicited a flurry of camera flashes. Jennifer felt a ripple of sympathy for them both, as they sat under the microscope. But she couldn’t help but feel that Abigail deserved better. Thoughts of the little girl made her heart wrench, and it had taken all her strength to focus on the investigation and not go searching herself. She slid her phone from her pocket, checking Twitter as the press conference wrapped up. Most of the #FindAbigail tweets were pointing the finger at Joanna. Their farmhouse address had become a tightly guarded secret, and police were able to intercept the hate mail making its way to their townhouse in Haven. Jennifer hoped the press conference would go some small way towards repairing the damage done by Joanna’s previous flippancy. It seemed crazy, all