Free Lost Lives (Emily Swanson Mystery Thriller Series Book 1) by Malcolm Richards

then angry that she should feel any shame at all.
    At the computer, Jerome returned his attention to Das Telefonbuch . “If we knew which town or city Alina hails from it would narrow our search.”
    “We could ask Karl Henry.” Emily watched him, looking for signs that her admission had changed his attitude towards her. If it had, Jerome was a better actor than she’d imagined.
    “I don’t like the idea of messing around with Karl Henry,” he said. “We already know he enjoys getting his point across with his hands, and if you’re right about Alina, then he’s the last person we want to get tangled up with.”
    “Perhaps Harriet will know.”
    “It’s worth asking. What other information do we have?”
    Relaxing a little, Emily leaned back in her chair. “Alina disappeared on Monday the twenty-fourth of August. She called Karl at around nine pm from a bus stop to say she was on her way home from work. No one saw or heard from her again. Earlier that same day, Karl arranged for Bill the handyman to change the lock on his apartment door, then paid him hush money to keep quiet about it. The lock had been broken from the inside, as if someone had been trying to smash their way out. Go take a look. They’ve been sanded down and painted over, but there are scratches and grooves still visible.”
    “I believe you. Go on.”
    “Some time shortly before Alina’s disappearance, Harriet Golding was woken in the middle of the night by shouting. Karl and Alina were fighting again. Only this time, they weren’t alone. A third person was there. A woman. Harriet couldn’t hear what she had to say to them but whatever it was shut them up and fast.”
    “That’s weird. I wonder who it could have been.” Jerome wrote everything down, forming a timeline of events. He stared at the page, thinking. “You know, there is one direct way we could find out if Alina is missing. And it would save us a lot of time and trouble.”
    Emily folded her arms, staring out of the window. “Ask the police.”
    “Exactly. But I don’t know how much they’re allowed to tell us, not being related or in any way connected to her.”
    “Surely they’d be able to tell us whether or not she’s been found.”
    “You want to call tomorrow and ask?”
    “No.”
    The word fled from her mouth like a turncoat.
    Jerome stared at her, his brow wrinkled. “Okay. I guess I can do it on my lunch break.”
    “Alina was a nurse, wasn’t she?” Emily turned away, her hair falling across her face. “I found part of her uniform in the clothes she left behind, and the missing persons notice said she worked for some sort of foundation.”
    “Do you remember the name? It could be worth giving them a call to see if they know anything.”
    Emily cast her mind back, picturing the notice pinned to the public board. “The Ever After Care Foundation.”
    “Sounds like a funeral home.”
    Emily typed the name into the laptop.
    “Not so far from the truth,” she replied.
    They stared at a gaudily coloured webpage decorated with dove motifs. The Ever After Care Foundation was not a funeral service, but a private hospice for the terminally ill located east of the city in Hainault. Images on the website presented a sprawling manor house flanked by modern annexes and surrounded by woodland. The grounds boasted colourful, topiary-lined gardens, and two large ponds.
    Other photographs showed bright and comfortable rooms that, if it weren’t for the hospital-style beds, could have been mistaken for hotel rooms. As Emily pored over the website, an insipid queasiness began to unsettle her stomach. Memories were crawling out of the shadows like insects, moving just beneath her skin.
    “I’ve lost you again.” Jerome squeezed her arm.
    Emily mustered a half-smile. “It looks very comfortable. A nice place to spend your last days.”
    “Is there a phone number?”
    Clicking onto the contact page, Emily located the number and Jerome made a note of it.
    “You