Chapter 48 Aiden
Aiden
The bedroom where his precious Maisie died still looks and smells the same and Aiden can’t bring himself to clean it.
Even the bed is still unmade, the silk eiderdown bunched up at the bottom where she’d kicked it off that last night, the lace curtains still closed.
He eyes a framed photograph of their wedding that sits on her bedside table: her in a long, pale-blue dress and him in a dapper suit.
It had been a registry office affair; neither of them wanted a traditional wedding, both having been married before.
He sits on the edge of the bed and picks up the photograph, running his thumb gently over Maisie’s smiling face.
She’s at peace at last. Whoever killed her did her a favour. But it wasn’t him.
Yet how can he tell the police? If he does then he’s breaking a promise that he made to Maisie. He’d kept it close to his chest all these years and the truth would tarnish her memory and undo all the good.
But if he doesn’t tell the truth then he’ll go to prison for a crime he didn’t commit.
He’s been sleeping in the spare room since he was released from custody.
He hasn’t been charged with anything yet.
There isn’t enough evidence to suggest it was him who had poisoned his wife’s hot chocolate and he’d done just as his lawyer had advised and met every question with a No Comment answer.
But that will only work for a while. He’s an easy target. An open and shut case.
But maybe there is a way around it. Maybe there is a way he can keep his promise to Maisie but help himself as well. Because he doesn’t want to spend years behind bars for a crime he didn’t commit. And he doesn’t want the world to think he killed his beautiful wife.