Free Tell the Truth by Katherine Howell Page A

other. ‘Can I get you a coffee or something?’ Aimee said.
    â€˜No, thanks,’ Rowan said. ‘Have you heard from Stacey today?’
    â€˜No, why?’
    â€˜I’m sorry to say it like this, but she might be in trouble.’
    â€˜How do you mean?’
    â€˜He found her car with blood in it, and the police don’t know where she is,’ Imogen said.
    Aimee looked back and forth between them. ‘Are you kidding me? Is this for real?’
    â€˜When did you last talk to her?’ Rowan asked.
    â€˜Hang on a minute. You’re not joking?’
    â€˜I wish I was,’ he said.
    She bit her lip. ‘Last week. Friday. I rang to see if she wanted to go out for coffee. She was busy. We planned to catch up this week.’
    â€˜Did she tell you about anyone hassling her, anyone who might want to hurt her?’ Rowan asked.
    â€˜No. Never anything like that. Why aren’t the cops asking me this stuff?’
    â€˜The cops start with the family then work out, so I’m trying to find out anything that might help.’
    The thought of Stacey’s tears and the apology he owed her burned his heart.
    Aimee let out a breath. ‘Was there a lot of blood in the car?’
    â€˜Too much,’ Rowan said.
    â€˜Let me call Claire and Vicky.’ She picked up her phone.
    *
    Ella and Murray arrived at Aimee Russell’s house to find four cars parked outside. Ella swore when she recognised the one in the driveway: a blue Ford sedan with a paramedic sticker on the back window. ‘Rowan Wylie’s here.’
    She banged on the front door with an angry fist, hearing sombre conversation inside, smelling coffee. Murray fumed beside her.
    The woman who answered looked about forty, and wore jeans and a T-shirt. ‘Yes?’
    Ella held up her badge. ‘Aimee Russell?’
    â€˜Yes.’ She looked relieved. ‘Has there been any news?’
    â€˜Not yet,’ Murray said. ‘We’d like to talk to Rowan.’
    Rowan was sitting in the lounge room drinking coffee with three other women. He looked a little embarrassed to see them in the doorway. Ella beckoned him out, and they went into the dining room and she shut the door. He sat at the dining table with a nervous expression on his face. Ella took the chair opposite and stared at him until he lowered his gaze to the polished timber. She thought of the killers who took pains to insinuate themselves into police investigations, to get involved in searches, to miraculously locate the body. To find the car. To talk to possible witnesses before she did.
    â€˜Do you know why we’re here?’ she said.
    â€˜As part of the investigation, I assume.’
    â€˜And can you tell me why you’re here?’ She tried to keep her anger controlled.
    â€˜Aimee’s a friend of Stacey’s. I wanted to know if she’d heard from her. I thought if she had, I could let you know. She hadn’t, but she rang her other two friends and told them what was happening and they came over, but they haven’t heard from her either.’
    At the end of the table Murray clicked his pen and made a note. Rowan glanced his way.
    â€˜Did it ever occur to you,’ Ella said, ‘that it might be important that we speak to these people for ourselves?’
    â€˜I knew you would eventually, but I thought in the meantime it would help.’
    Did you just. She said, ‘Tell me again how you came to recognise Stacey’s car.’
    â€˜I noticed the paramedic sticker, then the numberplate. I see the car pretty often. I know what it looks like.’
    Murray made another note.
    â€˜How close are you and Stacey?’ Ella asked.
    â€˜We’re friends, as I said earlier. Is this really helping, going over and over the same stuff?’
    â€˜Have you had an affair with her?’ Ella asked.
    â€˜What? No!’
    Murray marked his notebook again.
    â€˜How did you two meet?’ Ella