Death Sentence (16 page)

‘I take it you don’t need me to warn you not to contact your friends down at the station?’ Sullivan enquired casually, after an agonising pause.

‘Where is she?’ Matthew’s jaw tensed as he fought to supress the rage surging through every vein in his body. It wouldn’t help to lose it now. He had to stay calm; until he was alone with the bastard, then he would do what he should have done on the blackest day of his life, kill the excuse for a human being and take great pleasure in doing it slowly.

‘Your partner,’ Sullivan paused, prolonging the agony, whilst he took a draw on whatever shit he was smoking, Matthew guessed, his gut twisting, ‘put him off the scent, Adams. As far as he, or anyone else, is concerned, everything on the home-front is gravy. Got it?’

‘If you touch her, Sullivan,’ Matthew couldn’t keep the anger from his voice, ‘so help me—’

‘Tut, tut, temper, Detective Inspector. You don’t want to rile me now,’ Sullivan retorted smoothly, ‘
do
you?’

The last was said with implicit meaning.

‘
Bastard.
’ Matthew raked a hand furiously through his hair.

‘Correct,’ Sullivan replied flatly. ‘Not sure my old man would be too pleased to hear you slighting his good name, though. Come to think of it, I’m not either. So keep it zipped.’

Matthew clenched his teeth, hard. ‘What do you want, Sullivan?’

‘All in good time, Adams. I’ll call back. I have someone else pressing to attend to. Looks like the little lady’s struggling to breathe. Make sure you pick up pronto if you don’t want her to keep struggling.’

‘You fucking
animal!
’ Realising Sullivan had ended the call, Matthew slammed his fist hard into the nearest wall.

‘Matthew! Don’t!’ Ashley scrambled down the stairs. ‘You’ll hurt yourself.’

Matthew gulped back the hard knot in his throat and attempted to focus on the slim hand that had caught hold of his wrist.

‘She’s all right!’ Ashley said it again, as Matthew’s thoughts crashed through his mind like a runaway train.

‘She
is,
’ Ashley repeated, tearfully but insistently, because she needed to believe it? Matthew needed to believe it. God help him, he needed her to be.

Nodding, Matthew tried to reel in his emotions. ‘Okay.’ He closed his eyes and attempted to reassure her. ‘I’m okay. I—’

Shit!
His gaze shot to the door as the doorbell rang. Recognising his DS’s silhouette through the opaque glass, he glanced guardedly at Ashley, then gestured her behind him and reached to open it.

‘I came as soon as I could,’ Steve said, turning from his perusal of the road to Matthew. ‘Bloody hell,’ he knitted his brow, ‘you look like death. Is everything OK?’

‘Yes,’ Matthew said quickly. ‘Fine.’ Running a hand shakily over his neck, he forced a smile. ‘I, er, think I might be coming down with something. A bug, probably.’

‘Just what you need.’ Steve shook his head and took a step inside. ‘I had a word with Nicky,’ he started, and stopped, as his gaze fell on Ashley.

Obviously taking Matthew’s cue, Ashley managed a smile. ‘Hi.’

‘All right?’ Steve smiled easily back.

‘Yeah, good,’ Ashley assured him. ‘Just on my way up to listen to some music.’ Exchanging meaningful looks with Matthew, she turned to head back up the stairs.

‘Use your earphones, Ashley,’ Matthew called after her, trying desperately for normal.

‘I know, I know. It does your head in.’ Sighing demonstrably, Ashley took his cue there, too, thank God.

Steve waited diplomatically, until she’d disappeared around the stair rail, then, ‘I’ve been going through the files regarding that case we discussed,’ he said. ‘Looks like we might have a link. Nothing concrete yet, but …’

‘Great.’ Matthew did his best to look relieved. ‘You’ll keep me up to speed, yes?’

‘Will do,’ Steve promised. ‘I’ve got a bit more digging around to do, but I’ll fill you in as and when. So, where do you want me? Out front, presumably.’

‘Crap.’ Matthew banged the heel of his hand demonstrably against his forehead. ‘I meant to ring you. Sorry, Steve. Brain’s gone AWOL, I swear. Rebecca’s safe.’ He smiled reassuringly, though saying his wife’s name almost crucified him. ‘She’s spending some time with her mother. Ashley has a dental appointment and then I’m driving her up there, too, so …’

You don’t have an appointment!
Emily picked up, as Ashley eavesdropped on the landing.
He’s telling fibs.

Obviously
. Answering silently, Ashley rolled her eyes.
He’s trying to keep Becky safe, dimwit
. Leaning her head back against the wall, Ashley caught the tear that rolled down her cheek with the back of her hand. She liked Matthew. A lot. She liked Becky, too. Not just because she’d bought her stuff, but because she’d talked to her, like an adult, rather than some freak. Part of her couldn’t help wishing Becky away though, when she’d said she was having a baby. No matter Becky’s assurances she wouldn’t, Ashley couldn’t help thinking that she would be sent back to the care home. That she’d be in the way. Hadn’t she always? She’d been a bit pissed about it on the drive home. She was Matthew’s family, after all, she’d reasoned. If anyone had a right to stay, didn’t she? And now this had happened.

Ith’s not your fault.
Emily assured her, looking back from where she was peering through the rails on the landing at proceedings down in the hall.
Ith’s that man’s. I told you I didn’t like him.

Ashley thought it probably was her fault, though. As if somehow her wishing Becky away had made it happen.

She is all right, you know.
Emily wriggled around to face her.

But how do you know? You can’t see her
. Ashley wasn’t sure she believed her.

No, but I can feel her.
Emily shuffled across to sit next to Ashley.
Here.
She reached to press a hand to Ashley’s heart.
You can, too, if you concentrate hard.

Chapter Twelve

Matthew snatched up his mobile when it rang. ‘Adams?’ he answered tersely, thinking it might be Sullivan.

‘Have you left yet?’ Steve asked.

Matthew blew out the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding in. ‘About to,’ he said, wishing he’d checked the caller number. Sullivan was about to play him like a fiddle, Matthew guessed. One wrong move and he could do … He didn’t dare contemplate what. And anything might count as a wrong move in Sullivan’s warped mind, even finding his phone engaged.

‘Haven’t got time to swing by the hospital, have you?’ Steve’s tone was sombre.

Hospital?
Matthew felt a pang of apprehension prickle his spine. Why would Steve want him down at the hospital when he was supposed to be on gardening leave?

‘It’s Natalie,’ Steve supplied.

‘Natalie?’
Oh God, no.
Matthew tightened his grip on the phone. ‘What happened?’ he asked, as if he needed to.

‘I might be wrong,’ Steve said, ‘but I’m guessing the same someone who wasn’t happy with Brianna talking to you wasn’t too happy with Natalie talking to you either.’

****

‘It’s just for a while,’ Matthew attempted to reassure Ashley as he pulled into the hospital car park. ‘I promise to keep in touch and let you know what’s happening.’

Ashley glanced sullenly back at him, clearly not thrilled at the prospect of going back to the care home, which was where she should be now, if only the manager had been there. Matthew wasn’t prepared to drop her without assurances she would be watched at all times.

‘I could lock myself in.’ She made a last ditch effort to be allowed to stay with him. ‘I wouldn’t answer the door to anyone, or the phone. And I wouldn’t be any trouble.’

‘Ashley—’ Matthew parked up and checked his mobile for the fiftieth time. Why hadn’t that bastard rung back? ‘It’s just not possible. You know it’s not.’

‘Right, fine. Whatever.’ Ashley puffed out a sigh and sat huffily back in her seat.

Looking like she should. Matthew felt for her. Like a truculent teenager not thrilled at not getting her own way. ‘It’s not that I don’t want you there, Ashley. I—’

Yes it is.

‘What?’ Matthew did a double-take, sure he’d heard her speak, equally sure that she hadn’t.

‘Nothing.’ Ashley shrugged. ‘I could help,’ she tried again, turning huge, hopeful eyes on him. ‘I could cook meals and stuff. You have to eat. And I could, you know, just be there, in case Becky …’ she trailed off uncertainly.

‘Ashley …’ Matthew hesitated, not sure how to put it but exactly how it was. ‘She won’t be coming back unless I do everything the … person … who’s holding her wants me to do. I’m sorry,’ he added quickly, as Ashley immediately retreated into herself in that defensive way she did.

Matthew debated and decided the truth, however distasteful, might be better than her assuming she wasn’t wanted, though following him everywhere but the bathroom, she actually was getting in the way. He needed to think, to be alert. He couldn’t do that with Ashley to worry about.

‘There are things he might demand regarding you, Ashley,’ he said, then paused and waited, hoping she really was as mature as she’d seemed.

Ashley fell quiet.

‘Do you understand, Ashley?’

Nodding, at length, she peered up at him from under her curtain of hair.

‘As much as I want you around, Ashley, and God knows I could use the company, I’m just not prepared to take that risk.’ Matthew made sure to hold her gaze. ‘He needs to know you’re out of the frame and, for now, the care home is the safest place for you.’

Ashley’s eyes flicked uncertainly down and then back to him.

‘Besides, Becky would kill me if I let anything happen to you,’ Matthew attempted a little levity, but almost choked on the words. ‘Come on.’ Reaching across, he gave her shoulders a squeeze. ‘We’ll get through this. We just have to trust each other.’

‘Okay,’ Ashley’s voice was small. ‘But you have to promise me you’ll let me know what’s happening. I’ll go mental in there if you don’t.’

‘I will. I promise.’ Matthew mustered up a smile. ‘Right, while we’re in there,’ he nodded towards the hospital, ‘I’ll need you to stick right by my side. Right by it, Ashley. No loo calls, unless I’m waiting outside. No wandering off. Okay?’

Ashley rolled her eyes and reached for her door. ‘You’ll be telling me not to talk to strangers in a minute. I’m, like, almost fourteen? I can look after myself, y’know?’

Somehow, Matthew didn’t doubt that she could, despite the bullying incident they’d witnessed when they’d first met her at the care home. The pain in his chest was physical this time, as he recalled Becky’s face that day, the determination in her eyes. She’d made up her mind to try to be a mother to Ashley.
Christ
, what kind of twisted fate was it that would allow a woman who’d managed to smile in the face of adversity, who’d lifted his spirits from the very pit of despair, someone who cared so much, to suffer so much?

His emotion threatening to spill over, Matthew swallowed hard and tried to compose himself as they headed for the hospital entrance.

‘Like the boots, by the way,’ he said, attempting some semblance of normality as they walked.

‘Becky bought them.’ Ashley’s eyes were fixed downwards.

Matthew felt the knot in his chest tighten. ‘I gathered,’ he said quietly.

‘She’s all right.’ Ashley turned her gaze towards him, unwavering certainty still in her eyes. ‘I can feel it.’

Matthew nodded, trying to humour her, though what he actually felt like doing was dropping to his knees right there in the car park and sobbing his heart out.

****

‘Sugar?’ Patrick enquired politely.

She shook her head, her eyes huge over the duct tape. Pupils like saucers, Patrick glanced back at her interestedly, as he stirred the tea. He couldn’t tell if her eyes were blue or green. Somewhere in between, he decided, carrying the tea over. The colour the sea should be instead of shitty brown. She was pretty. He could see what Adams saw in her. She was wasted on him, classy bird like her. You could always tell a bit of class by the shoes.

Personally, he preferred stilettos on a good pair of legs, but the ankle boots with the dress, and a fair expanse of flesh in between, were definitely sexy.

Placing the cup, one of his best
Harrods William Edwards
fine china, on the occasional table next the sofa, he smiled, and then came to stand in front of her. Yes, very tasty, he thought. Not bad at all. Appraising her leisurely, he considered, and then leaned in to trace his index finger the length of her thigh.

She flinched at that. Well, she would, he supposed.

‘Sorry,’ he apologised, holding her gaze, his eyes level with hers. Blue, he decided on the colour. They reminded him of his mother’s. His mother had that same look about her sometimes, he recalled, wide-eyed and petrified; tiptoeing around, trying to avoid the wrath of his father. ‘I wasn’t copping a feel, sweetheart,’ he assured her, though he probably actually was. ‘Don’t panic, your virtue is safe … for now. I was just admiring. I have a bit of a thing for legs, you see. Women’s legs, obviously.’

Glancing down, he clutched her thigh lightly, his gaze flicking alternately to her face, assessing her reaction, and then back to her thigh, as he traced the outline of her taut muscle: down over the knee, then further down, gliding slowly over the smooth jut of her shinbone.

‘I prefer them in stilettos, I must admit,’ he said, his gaze finding hers again, as he squatted to wrap his hand around her ankle.

‘Have you ever noticed how stilettos give women shapelier legs?’ he asked conversationally, as he slid his palm back up her inner calf.

‘Like sculpted porcelain.’ He stopped, cupping her calf muscle. ‘Do you know why that is?’

He looked expectantly up at her.

As if he genuinely thought she might be interested. Repulsed, Rebecca recoiled inwardly.

‘It’s because women who walk in high heels exercise their inner and outer calf muscles more evenly than women who wear flat shoes.’ He chatted absurdly on, as if he were discussing something as emotive as the weather. ‘I read about it. Can’t think where.’