‘That’s right.’ Matthew looked back to where Davies stood outside the car, obviously contemplating the spurious details of his story. He didn’t believe him, but the look in the man’s eyes told Matthew he wasn’t about to dig too deep.
‘John, I need to go,’ he said, growing more anxious by the second. Once the cavalry had arrived, too late to save Sullivan, fortunately, pandemonium seemed to break out, blue lights and uniforms everywhere. Matthew hadn’t had the chance to hold Becky more than briefly, and she’d been frighteningly unresponsive in his arms.
‘I need to be with them, John. Surely this can wait?’
Clearly hearing the desperation in his tone, Davies nodded soberly. ‘I think you probably do,’ he conceded, glancing down at the blood oozing through the wad of gauze wrapped around Matthew’s arm.
Nodding, relieved, Matthew immediately heaved himself out of the car.
‘Do you need any help?’ Davies asked him, stepping aside to allow him to pass.
Pausing, Matthew turned back. ‘No, sir, I don’t,’ he said, eyeing him levelly. ‘Not anymore.’
DCI Davies lowered his gaze, at least having the decency to look contrite.
‘We’ll need statements, Matthew,’ he called after him, as Matthew headed for the ambulance. ‘As soon as you’re able.’
‘You’ll get them,’ Matthew assured him. They would go in together, as a family. Once they’d given all the information that was needed, he was taking a sabbatical, rather than enforced gardening leave. A long one. His wife needed him. God willing, she still wanted him. Matthew prayed that Becky and he could get through this intact.
He glanced worriedly at her as he climbed into the ambulance. Still she was quiet, subdued, not looking at him. Ashley was knotting and unknotting her fingers, her head bent, her hair hiding her face.
The paramedic offered him a sympathetic smile.
‘It’s a bit of a squeeze, but I thought you’d all want to travel together,’ she said jovially. Attempting some kind of normality, Matthew guessed, as if anything could ever be normal again.
‘Thanks.’ Glancing again at Becky, whose gaze was fixed on the ligature marks on her wrists, her mind no doubt playing over the horrific scenario she’d just endured, the horrific details of the “accident”, Matthew lowered himself carefully onto the bunk next to her. Every bone in his body ached now, every muscle. How much must Becky be hurting?
Would she ever forgive him for not telling her the whole story around Lily’s death? How could she? Matthew doubted he’d ever forgive himself. It had been a monumental mistake, one that had almost cost Becky her life. If she’d known about Sullivan, if Matthew hadn’t decided to keep the information to himself, she would have been on her guard. He’d thought he’d been protecting her. He’d actually put her directly in the line of fire. He should have trusted her. Instead he’d shut her out.
Looking down at her hands resting listlessly in her lap, Matthew wanted to reach out, but didn’t know how. Selfishly, he had no idea how he’d cope if she recoiled from his touch. And she had every right to. He waited instead, hoping that some space was all she needed. Yeah, right. He laughed inwardly at his damn, stupid naïvety. That and a whole new life with someone who cared enough to let her in.
Ashley glanced at him, as the ambulance pulled off, dipping in and out of the deep divots in the mud, as it went. ‘Okay, Ashley?’ he asked her softly.
She nodded uncertainly. ‘Emily told me to,’ she said, her voice an urgent whisper.
Not sure he’d heard her right, Matthew looked at her curiously. ‘Told you to what, Ashley?’
Ashley shrank further into herself.
‘The shoe,’ she said, her gaze flicking fearfully between Becky and him.
‘Right.’ Matthew nodded slowly. ‘Ashley, who is Emily?’ he probed gently.
Ashley shrugged and looked away. ‘My sister,’ she said, glancing warily back at him. ‘You’re still bleeding.’ She immediately changed the subject, her gaze drifting to the gauze on his arm.
‘I know. It’s only a flesh wound. It’ll mend. We all will, given time.’ Matthew smiled reassuringly, though he was reeling inside. She had a sister? Which meant Kristen had had another child? Christ. He really had been emotionally missing, hadn’t he? Too wrapped up in himself to see anyone else.
Growing more aware of his failings, on all fronts, Matthew glanced back to Becky. She didn’t return his glance, didn’t speak. Swallowing back the pieces of his heart, which seemed to be wedged like a thousand shards of glass in his windpipe, Matthew dropped his gaze, mentally playing over each and every one of his failures. He should have been there. Dammit. Dragging a hand across his eyes, he prayed hard, hoping if there was any kind of god up there, he would make sure Becky, a woman who’d given so much of herself, would survive this, with or without him. He’d been labouring under the illusion he was being strong. He’d been wrong. There was no strength in silence, shutting his emotions away, allowing his anger to fester.
He should have been there, building a new life together with the woman he would gladly have died for rather than live without. Becky was the strong one. Stronger than he’d ever been. She’d tried to understand his self-centred preoccupation with his work. She’d been there, for him, always. Now it was his turn to help her. To make sure she got through this, somehow. To make sure he was there. If he’d lost her, then so be it. He would still be there, wherever and whenever she might need him. That much Matthew promised himself.
‘Is he dead?’ Finally, Becky spoke, her tone so quiet she was barely audible.
Overwhelmingly relieved, Matthew snapped his gaze to her. ‘Yes,’ he said, uncertain, even after all she’d been through, how she would emotionally process the fact.
Becky fell silent again. ‘The gunshot?’ she asked, after a minute.
Matthew glanced at Ashley. ‘The gunshot,’ he confirmed, holding her gaze briefly before turning back to Becky.
Slowly, Becky nodded. Matthew watched her intently, as she drew in a long breath and held it. Hesitantly, he reached to wrap his good arm around her as she dropped her gaze to her lap. Easing her gently to him as her shoulders sagged, he waited, hope surging through him as she leaned into him. He felt the shudders run through her, heard the sob catch in her throat, saw the tears, hot and wet on her cheeks, as she looked at him.
Seeing the myriad of emotions in her eyes, shock, deep-rooted sorrow, relief, Matthew caught a lump in his own throat.
‘Did I ever tell you how much I love you?’ he asked her hoarsely, uncertainly. He scanned her face, bruised and swollen, but still she was beautiful, the same beautiful woman he’d fallen in love with and never dared hope might love him back. Could she now, still? He wished he could kiss her tears away, were it so easy, that he could hold her and keep her safe forever. That he had, instead of being blind, insensitive to anybody’s pain but his own.
Becky searched his eyes, then, ‘Ditto.’ She swallowed, turned to bury her face in his shoulder and cried harder.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It didn’t take long for Matthew to piece things together. Ashley had been as adamant about the day her sister had disappeared from her life as she was that she’d had a sister. It had been Ashley’s birthday, apparently, when Kristen had walked out on her.
The child, Emily, had finally been identified as a girl, now in long-term foster care, abandoned as a toddler in a hospital A&E. Ashley, it seemed, had simply refused to let go of her. He’d yet to broach the subject of ongoing counselling with Ashley, whose symptoms— trouble discerning dreams from reality, seeing things and hearing voices—pointed to childhood schizophrenia. It wasn’t going to be easy to convince her about counselling and ongoing psychiatric care. Not only was Ashley strong-willed, but she simply refused to believe that admitting to having problems wouldn’t mean she’d end up back in care. Matthew, somehow, had to first convince her it was manageable. That she was wanted, her, for who she was, that being different w
asn’t something she should be ashamed of.
Finding Kristen took a little longer than he’d expected. Then he’d had to tail her, making sure to pick his moment to confront her. Thereafter the rest was up to her. She had a trust fund waiting for her, a daughter who might possibly want something to do with her, another she might not see again, but who was healthy and happy. Watching her from where he sat, freezing cold, on yet another windy canal embankment, Matthew waited. She was alive, still breathing, stirring occasionally as dawn broke. He doubted she’d be sober when she eventually woke, but she wouldn’t be totally inebriated either. He might get through to her. He might not. Knowing he had been emotionally missing when she needed him though, Matthew had to give it one last try.
Kristen stirred again, wriggling, like a caterpillar in her sleeping bag, as a gust of wind sharp enough to strip the bark from the trees whistled through the tunnel. Blowing into his hands to warm them, Matthew let her be. He needed her to be fully awake, under her own steam, and paying attention.
Finally, a narrowboat chugging past lurched her to consciousness.
‘Bloody thing,’ she muttered, burying herself deeper in her bag and tugging it over her head.
Matthew waited a little longer.
‘Kristen,’ he said then, loud enough for her to hear. He didn’t stand, but waited patiently again.
The top of her head appeared first, followed by her furrowed forehead and heavy-lidded eyes. ‘Matthew?’ she muffled, blinking blearily at him.
‘One word,’ Matthew got to his feet, ‘Emily.’ He let it hang, assessing her reaction carefully.
Kristen just stared at him, her eyes rounded and filled with guilt, swiftly followed by the belligerence Matthew had seen too many times before.
‘You have an appointment,’ he said, holding his temper and placing a card on the ground next to her. ‘Alcohol recovery and mental health services. Be there, Kristen, or I won’t be ever again.’ With which Matthew turned away.
‘I knew she’d be safe!’ Kristen blurted behind him.
Matthew conceded that much. In leaving her at the hospital, Kristen had done her best, given her addiction, ergo lack of caring skills, to make sure she was. That had been the deciding factor when Becky and he had discussed whether to try again to seek her out.
‘I thought she’d be better off,’ Kristen added, as he slowed. ‘I mean she’d have to be wouldn’t she, anywhere but with me.’
Matthew hesitated, then turned around. Whatever she said next would be the crucial comment, the one that would persuade him to keep caring, to keep tearing himself up over her.
Kristen looked at him, looked down under his unflinching gaze, dragged a hand under her nose.
‘Is she all right?’ she asked hesitantly, looking back at him after a second. Her expression told Matthew all he needed to know, the beseeching look in her eyes. She cared. In there somewhere she did actually care what had happened to her kids.
‘She’s safe,’ he assured her. ‘You did that much for her. Get your act together, Kristen. There’s help out there. Here, too. But you have to want it.’
Kristen glanced away again, her face resolute and uncertain in turn, her willpower already doing battle with her demons, Matthew guessed. He watched while she chewed doggedly on a fingernail. ‘Well?’ he asked her.
No answer. No surprise. Matthew sighed and turned away, this time for the last time. He’d done his best. He wasn’t going to force march her there. Not again.
‘Wait!’ Kristen stopped him. ‘Walk with me,’ she asked him, ‘to the centre.’
Matthew debated, checking his watch, as if that could tell him when the baby might come. Hell, now what did he do?
‘Please?’ Kristen said, scrambling out of the sleeping bag behind him. ‘It’s only a short walk.’ She grabbed up her meagre belongings and stumbled towards him. ‘You’ve come this far …’
That he had. Matthew ran a hand over his neck.
‘Okay.’ He relented, with a sigh. ‘Just as far as the centre, though, Kristen. After that, it’s up to you. I have to get back.’
‘Why?’ Kristen asked, struggling to keep step with him as Matthew set a brisk pace, checking his mobile for messages as he walked.
‘Ashley has a psychiatric appointment,’ he said, deciding that much information couldn’t hurt, given Kristen was interested.
Kristen’s step faltered. ‘How is she?’ she asked, no hint of indifference this time.
‘Good,’ Matthew said, and turned to reach for the rucksack she was struggling with.
‘Is she in school?’ Kristen was now almost running to keep up with him, as Matthew resumed walking.
‘Yep.’ He checked his watch again. ‘But not today. She’s standing in in lieu of the expectant father, which is why I can’t hang about.’
‘Do you think she’ll ever want to see me again?’ Kristen almost blurted that question out.
Matthew thought about it. ‘Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe, in time. Like I say, it’s up to you, Kristen. You need to get sober. I’ll make an effort to be around, but only if you …’ Matthew stopped, realising he was talking to himself.
Glancing back he gathered Kristen had also stopped. ‘You’re having a baby?’ she asked, her expression now stunned, her sleeping bag clutched to her chest.
‘Imminently.’ Mathew reached for his mobile, checking that again too.
Kristen blinked at him in wonder, as he looked back at her.
‘Oh, Matthew, that’s fantastic news.’ She smiled. The first time Mathew had seen her smile properly in a very long time, reminding him of the girl she once was. A scrawny little thing in her teens, she’d been amazingly pretty. Still was, even with the crew cut, when she was sober.
‘I’m so proud of you, you know. I know I slag you off and give you grief,’ she shrugged embarrassedly, ‘but just so you know.’
‘Ditto,’ Matthew said, nodding meaningfully towards the location of the drop-in centre.
****
‘Are you sure you’re not about to go into labour?’ Matthew asked, noting the size of Becky’s considerable and low bump, as he pulled on a fresh shirt.
Rebecca paused in her attempts to tie her hair up in a topknot. Matthew wished she wouldn’t. He loved it tumbling down her back in all its fiery auburn glory.
‘Um, hold on, I’ll just check.’ She glanced at him through the bedroom mirror, a wry smile on her face and then bent to address her tummy. ‘Hullo, little bump. Daddy wants to know when we’re expecting you.’
‘You’re taking the pee, Mrs Adams.’ Matthew smiled, walking across to wrap his arms around her, as she straightened up.
‘And you’re worrying too much.’ Becky gave him a mock-scowl. Be gone,’ she said, ‘before I have you arrested for ogling naked, pregnant women.’
‘It’d be worth it.’ Dropping his hands to her tummy, Matthew planted a soft kiss on the nape of her neck. ‘You sure you’re going to be OK?’
Becky twizzled in his arms. ‘Fine,’ she assured him. ‘I’m pregnant, not made of porcelain. I think I can manage to waddle as far as the phone if I need you.’
‘Not too much waddling. You’re supposed to be resting,’ Matthew reminded her, his gaze straying to her succulent lips, also naked, fresh out of the shower and begging to be kissed. ‘Did I ever tell you you’re beautiful?’ He gave in to temptation and pressed his mouth lightly against hers.
‘Often,’ Rebecca assured him. ‘You’re an excellent liar.’
Matthew was about to say, would I ever, but mindful that he hadn’t been wholly truthful in the past, caught himself. But for Ashley, he might have lost her. Why Becky had stayed with him, still loved him—and she did, it was right there in her beautiful aquamarine eyes, Matthew couldn’t fathom. One thing he was sure about, though, was his absolute love for this woman: his wife, his friend, his lover, the mother of his children. Never again, would he lose sight of the fact that she was the most i
mportant thing in his life, the one constant, his anchor. If there was anything good to take away from that godforsaken day, it was that it had made Matthew more determined to be the best husband and father he could be, to make sure every decision that was made was made jointly, to be there, one hundred percent, emotionally, physically. His family was his priority. It should always have been.
‘You’d better go,’ Becky murmured, as his lips involuntarily found their way to the soft curve of her neck.
‘I know, just …’ Matthew strayed lower. Tempted by her far-too-enticing bare breasts, he took one inviting nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, circling with his tongue, until a low moan escaped her.
‘I could do unspeakable things to you, right now,’ he whispered huskily, finding her lips again with his own, his need growing, considerably, as she dipped the pink tip of her succulent tongue into his mouth.
God, if only she knew how much he wanted to sweep her up in his arms, lay her down on the bed and make tender sweet love to her. She was so desirable like this, he couldn’t keep his hands off her. Sensual lovemaking, however, possibly wasn’t on the agenda, given his wife was now past her due date. Aware he might be a little over-demanding, Matthew eased reluctantly away.
‘Now that, DI Adams,’ Becky breathed, blinking hazily up at him, ‘is just plain unfair.’
‘I know,’ Matthew smiled, tempted now to throw caution to the wind and kiss every delectable inch of her, ‘but you love it.’
‘I do, frequently,’ Becky assured him, grazing a thumb lightly across his mouth. ‘However,’ Her gaze flicked to the bedside cabinet, on which sat the alarm clock.
‘Crap.’ Matthew squeezed his eyes closed, realising he was about to make Ashley late for her first appointment. ‘Sorry,’ he said, turning to grab up his watch. ‘Reluctant though I am, I have to go.’
‘As I pointed out to you before you took advantage of me.’ Becky gave him her best admonishing look.
Matthew smiled. ‘I didn’t,’ he said, slipped on the watch and then reached to finish buttoning his shirt. ‘Did I?’ He looked worriedly back up.
Death Sentence Page 28
