She descended slowly, trying to put her gold hoop earrings in as she walked. A tight dress clung to her toned thighs. There was something of the Hollywood Barbie doll about her. She had long blonde layered hair, big blue eyes with heavy black mascara and a golden powder dusted over her cheekbones. She looked at Imogen and Adrian then faltered for a moment in her descent. The perfect porcelain-toothed smile dropped almost imperceptibly before she continued to walk down the stairs.

It took Adrian a few moments, but his body prickled with goose bumps as she stood on the bottom step. It was her – it was Jane Doe.

Reece spoke again. ‘This is my wife, Angela.’

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Angela Corrigan had immaculate hair, blonde and bouncy with loose, tumbling curls just past her shoulders. Imogen barely recognised her. It was her, though, the woman Adrian had saved.

Imogen shot a look at Adrian. He met her gaze immediately, the tiniest nod of his head confirming she wasn’t imagining what she was seeing.

Angela Corrigan was at most half the age of her husband. She took a deep breath and approached the doorstep. She wore a polo-neck knitted dress in cornflower blue, which made her eyes even bluer. Imogen noticed that aside from her lower legs, she was almost completely covered.

On closer inspection, there was a thick layer of foundation on her face, good foundation but still an unnecessary amount for a woman as young as Angela Corrigan – no doubt to hide the bruises she had sustained. Perfectly composed and immaculately dressed, she didn’t look the same as the woman they had seen almost completely broken in that hospital bed.

Angela’s smile reappeared, a strained look in her eye, which clearly asked them not to mention what they knew, wanting to keep up the charade of a first meeting. The tension in the air was palpable as no one spoke for a moment, each unsure what to say.

Imogen decided that now wasn’t the time for this confrontation; they didn’t know enough. She thought about what Dr Hadley had told her about the woman’s injuries and the possibilities of a prolonged campaign of physical abuse against her. Imogen would let the woman dictate how this introduction was going to go.

‘Who’s this?’ Angela said, walking forwards and slipping her arm through Reece’s, looking up at him.

Imogen could see that whatever was going on, she didn’t want her husband to know about it; she wanted them to pretend they had never seen her before.

‘The detectives just came over to ask about a couple of former employees.’

‘Oh. Will you be long?’ She looked at a slim, expensive-looking gold wristwatch. ‘I have an appointment with the salon at eleven.’

Corrigan kissed her on the forehead before turning back to them.