If she'd been there could she be trusted at all? Oh Dear God. Daisy.
I struggled upright again, but Pierce was before me as soon as I managed a half sitting position.
"Easy, Tiger," he murmured. "You're still as white as a sheet."
"Daisy," I insisted, offering up a fairly feeble fight in my efforts to get past him.
"She's fine, she's with Abi."
"Exactly," I spat, giving one final shove that made Pierce move.
"Whoa, what does that mean?" he asked, stepping in front of me when my body swayed ominously to the side. "Abi will take good care of your daughter, trust me."
"I did trust you!" I shouted suddenly, flinging a hand up to my head when it threatened to split in two. "And you brought us here!" I still hurled the words at him, but at a lower volume.
"Because it's the safest place for you right now."
"How can it be?" I hissed in demand. "With one of McLaren's people here too!"
He took a step backwards on those words, then immediately was up in my face. His hands gripping my upper arms and his hot breath washing against my lips, as he lowered his head down enough to look me in the eyes. His were deadly serious.
"Listen up," he said quietly. "Abi escaped him. Then brought him down in the end. Ben almost died at the time. Her father risked his life to get evidence against the whole organisation. It was enough to arrest the piece of shit and hopefully put him away for the rest of his life. Abi is not McLaren's, nor has she ever been."
A soft clearing of a throat sounded out behind us. Pierce didn't back up, but turned us slightly so we could see Abi at the door, her hand on Daisy's shoulder. Daisy's eyes were big and wide, but otherwise she looked OK. Holding it together. Abi's were misted, as though she was the one about to burst into tears.
I sucked in a shaky breath and said, "I need to sit down."
"Maybe this was a mistake," Abi said quietly, directing her words to Pierce.
"I disagree," Pierce replied, as he helped me to the side of the bed. I immediately reached out a hand for Daisy, when he stepped back giving me space to move.
Daisy ran across the small room and threw herself into my arms. I pulled her close, buried my nose in her soft hair and inhaled deeply. Feeling centred for the first time in days. My hand started smoothing down her brunette pigtails, realising belatedly that she was still in her paint splattered borrowed t-shirt and the paint had now transferred to my blouse. I didn't release her.
"Marie," Pierce started, but I held up my free hand to stop him. I was done discussing these things in front my child and she needed reassurance now from me.
"Please just give Daisy and I a few moments alone. Whatever you have to say can wait." Confidence brimmed in each word. Confidence I didn't feel, but welcomed.
"Fair enough," Pierce said softly and turned to walk out the door. He stopped on the threshold. "But I'll be just down the hallway, I'm not going anywhere."
There was something about his tone that made me believe he wasn't saying that as a cop. I didn't look at him as he left, choosing instead to keep my eyes on Abi. She was shuffling her feet again, looking nervous. I felt a little bad that she had to experience that emotion in her own home.
"We'll need to talk too," I announced, still calling on my customary confidence. She nodded. "I don't suppose you have a change of clothes for me?" I asked. "After I've settled Daisy, I wouldn't mind cleaning up. I've been in this for two days and now I have penguin paint all over me."
Daisy giggled, the exact response I was going for, but the relief on Abi's face at my teasing words was not expected.
"Sure," she said and turned to leave the room.
Before she made it to the door, I said softly, "Thanks, Abi."
She glanced over her shoulder and smiled, it was a cautious smile, but better than the threat of tears I'd seen earlier.
"No worries," she murmured and then I was alone with my girl.
I hugged her. Held her. Rocked her. And then started singing her favourite lullaby: Daisy Bell.
"Daisy, Daisy. Give me your answer, do. I'm half crazy all for the love of you..."
She tightened her grip around my body when the tune ended and we just sat there, for a good long while, in silence.
Finally, I murmured, "This has been one big adventure, huh Daisy-girl?"
She nodded, but didn't say anything, which started to alarm me slightly. Daisy was a very vocal five year old. I'd never had a conversation with her where she'd had so little to say.
"How's your painting going? Get a penguin finished yet?" I asked, trying to engage her.
She shook her head from side to side, but didn't utter a sound.
"Daisy," I whispered, pulling back to get a look at her face. But she ducked down and tried to keep her cheek plastered to my chest. I had to use a thumb and forefinger on her chin to gently tip her head up. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"
"I want to go home," she whispered, eyes big and wet, bottom lip trembling.
Oh, for the love of all mothers everywhere. What was I doing to my girl? Tears, too many to hide, fell over the side of my eyelashes and splashed onto my cheeks. She sniffed. I sniffed. And then we started sobbing silently as we clutched each other, clung to each other.
Seeing my baby hurting, scared enough to crave our two bedroom flat over a house with walls to paint, cut deeper than anything I'd ever witnessed before in my life. Including that night.
I had thought my life was over when I watched Rick die. I'd thought I was surely next on the drug lord's hit-list. But that type of fear and pain had nothing on what I felt in this instance. Uncertain of the future. Petrified of the danger that existed for my child. Bereft of confidence. Lost.
McLaren was going to be put away for a very long time, but even behind bars he was reaching out to throttle me. And he'd use Daisy. There wasn't a doubt in my mind. What the hell did I do now? How did I stop this? How did I fix this? How did I make the world safe again for my daughter? For us?
That blasted book. Why did I have to steal it? What possessed me to think it could make a difference? That it could stop McLaren, destroy his world, and free Rick? The names listed in that ledger, the business transactions meticulously outlined by Rick on behalf of his 'boss'. It was the stuff of thrillers. The sort of thing you'd see in movies, and I'd naively thought that I could be the heroine and sneak the information to the press.
It had been in my possession just one day, a short twenty-four hours, before McLaren knew it was missing and confronted Rick. My husband had no idea where it was, but Rick wasn't stupid, completely enthralled in McLaren's world, but not so dim he couldn't work out who had taken the ledger and for what reason. Rick knew it had been me, but he covered for me. He told McLaren a lie, fed him bullshit and made him look elsewhere.
Then came running home to me.
But Roan McLaren wasn't unintelligent either, and he'd had Rick followed.
I sucked in a harsh burst of air and shakily let it out again. A hitched sound caught in my chest, up in my throat. I closed my eyes, blinking more tears free, and crushed Daisy to my chest. She'd stopped crying, I think she'd fallen asleep from exhaustion, so thankfully she wasn't witnessing my breakdown first hand.
How the fuck did I solve this?
How?
I don't know how long I sat there holding a sleeping Daisy in my arms, but the ache started up across my shoulders and down my back well before I made the move to slip her beneath the covers on the bed. I stood over her for a long time, taking in every beautiful feature, every similarity to Rick, every likeness of mine. Every part of her that was her own. There's something truly miraculous about looking down at your child when they sleep. Realising you brought this helpless, precious being into the world. Knowing their safety and livelihood was dependent on you.
I didn't have any answers, but I did know alone we couldn't pull this off. We needed to stay here, because here was safer than home. The only thing I could pray for was a quick arrest of McLaren's ma
n and a quick resolution to his trial. Once all the players were securely behind locked bars, then the threat would be gone.
Wouldn't it?
I frowned, rubbed my forehead and decided a shower was very much needed. Abi had placed clean jeans and a t-shirt in the bathroom, not a complete outfit, but at least a start. I stared at my pale face in the mirror for a while, then decided I really didn't need to be getting even more depressed over how washed out I looked. So, ducked under the hot spray and gladly used some of Abi and Ben's shampoo and conditioner.
Smelling a million times better, I dressed in the outfit, minus underwear, as I'd bundled all of my clothes up hoping Abi would allow me to impose on her further, by using her washing machine. It was an entirely unfamiliar and uncomfortable feeling to walk out to the kitchen knowing people - strangers - were there and I was going commando. I'm not one to forgo a bra, and the t-shirt Abi had given me wasn't loose. The jeans were snug as well, but at least there was no VPL.
An amused breath of air escaped me as I entered the room, rumbling conversation letting me know Ben and Pierce were there, the odd lighter note announcing Abi's presence as well. I carried my rolled up clothes in a bundle in front of my chest. A useless attempt to cover up my lack of attire.
"Hey," Abi said when she spotted me. "Everything fit OK?"
And that brought both men's eyes to my top, followed swiftly by my jeans. Ben smirked and returned his attention to his mug of coffee. Pierce just stared and didn't look away.
"Ah, fine. Thanks," I replied.
"How's Daisy?" Pierce asked, eyes thankfully on my face now, as Abi hurried over and took my washing from my hands without me having to ask.
"I'll do these," she murmured and was gone from the room in a flash.
"Sleeping," I answered Pierce. "Worn out. Emotional."
"And you?" he asked, concern etched in every word.
Ben's chair pushed back and I watched him walk to the sink, fill his mug with water, then without casting either of us a glance, he left the way Abi had. I hadn't said a word while I watched him.
"Do you want to sit down, Marie?" Pierce asked, returning my attention to him. "Fresh coffee in the pot," he added.
I let a long breath of air out. "I could go a coffee."
"Sit," he said softly. I guess it could have been considered an order, but his tone changed the command to a request.
I followed the nod of his head to the chair next to his and sat, as he reached over and nabbed a clean mug, pouring coffee into it from a plunger pot.
"Milk, one sugar, right?" he said, obviously remembering how I took my coffee from when we were in Sweet Seduction. I nodded.
The steaming mug in my hand I took my first sip, just as he pulled a large pad over from beside him and flipped the cover over, revealing a clean sheet of paper beneath.
"OK," he said, all businesslike. "Let's get this out of the way and then you can relax."
A bubble of sarcastic laughter erupted out of my mouth. Pierce ignored my reaction and clicked the top of his pen, ready to write my statement.
"We have to do this," I said. Not a question, but I guess he took it as one.
"Yeah, we do." He scratched his beard. "Listen, I'm not sure if you know how the legal system actually works, but I'll sum it up for you. The more evidence we have against a criminal, the more chance they'll get an appropriate sentence in court. Sure, we can arrest someone for one thing, charge them and get an adequate outcome, but that does not mean they serve the correct time for all of their crimes. Justice is not the law. They are two different things entirely. Now, I'm in the business of justice, but I have to work within the law to achieve it. That means, even though the criminal has been arrested and detained, I don't stop investigating, gathering evidence, adding more charges, until I know justice has been served."
Silence met the end of his statement. I took a sip of my drink. He followed suit.
"Marie," he said softly. "The man who chased you yesterday is part of McLaren's team. You know this. Sure, your statement will help put him away, but it will also, perhaps, lead to something else I can pin on McLaren. And that's not even getting you to press charges for him murdering your husband."
I stiffened. I hadn't agreed to that.
"One day you will have to face it," he added, still talking softly, carefully, gently. "One day you will have tell Daisy what happened to her father. Give her an idea of how he died. Can you do that, knowing you let the man who killed him get away for that particular crime?"
My coffee cup came down onto the surface of the table with a loud thud. So hard, I thought for a moment that it might have cracked.
"You have no right to bring up Daisy," I ground out. "No right to ask me to do this. You weren't there!"
"No, I wasn't," he said quickly. "But you were. And so was Abi."
"What does that mean? So was Abi? Is she offering to be a witness in court for this?"
"She will, if you press charges."
I shook my head. "There's no way I'd get someone else mixed up in this sordid mess."
"Abi's neck deep in it already," Pierce pointed out.
"So, you think a little more shit piled on top of the shit she's already had to endure is nothing at all? Is that how it works for you, Detective?"
Pierce grimaced, sitting back in his chair.
"It's so easy for people like you," I snarled. "You didn't lose someone you love. You didn't watch their life ebb out of them. Didn't think you'd be next. Sitting there with your husband's blood and brains all over your face and think, please God, just make it quick, like it was for Rick. A bullet in the head, not in the stomach. You didn't stare into the eyes of Satan himself and wait for the click of his gun. You have no idea what I went through. What Daisy could still go through. You swoop on in, after the fact, thinking you'll save the day and make everything all right. But you know what, Pierce, nothing will ever be all right again."
A shuddering breath in ended my tirade.
Oh, fuck. I had never talked about it before. I had never voiced what had happened to anyone. Ever. Oh, fuck. And I choose to lose my rag with a cop?
Oh, fuck.
My eyes, feeling too big for their sockets, came up to Pierce's, fearful of what I'd see there. Derision at my breakdown? Sympathy for what I had divulged? Pity?
But I didn't see any of those things. I saw something else. Something unexpected.
I saw understanding. But not just a stranger's understanding of what you have said, but the understanding of someone who had been through something similar. Who did know what you were talking about. Because they had experienced it too.
No judgement. No pity. Just complete and utter understanding.
Oh, fuck.
Chapter 8
And For A Single Moment In Time I Forgot
Pierce cleared his throat, spun the pad around on the table’s surface with the flick of an agitated finger, and then slammed his pen down on top, making the pad stop spinning altogether.
OK, hit a nerve. Well, he'd been hitting mine from the moment he walked into my office.
"You know what?" he said eventually, eyes not on me but staring off into the distance.
"What?" I said with an exaggerated sigh.
He shook his head. Ran a hand over his face and said, "You're right."
What?
"About which part?" I asked slowly.
His intense brown eyes flew to mine. "About me swooping in and thinking I'll make things all right."
"Oh." I had nothing else to add, but Pierce did.
"But the difference between people like me and people like you," he said, leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table, "is that we try to make the world a safer place, rather than just hoping it will be." He let a frustrated breath out. "Now, I don't have a kid, so I know you've got more to worry about than some. But to me it seems simple, Marie. You either trust everyone else will do the right thing so your kid will be safe. Or your grab the fucking bull by the horns and ensure
it is."
Holy shit. This was how he got witnesses on side?
"Ah, you speak to all your potential witnesses like this?" I had to ask.
"No, just the monumentally stubborn ones. The ones I know can handle the truth and maybe, just maybe, do something with it."
He stood up abruptly from the table, snatched the pen and unmarked pad off the surface and headed for the door.
"What about the statement?" I asked after him.
"What about it?" he shot back. "Neither of us are in the right frame of mind right now."
And then he was gone.
I sat stunned and unbelievably angry with the man. Who the fuck did he think he was to put that kind of crap on me? He was meant to be one of the good guys. One of those charged with keeping us safe. And this is how he treats a frightened woman?
Oh, I could think of a few things now to hurl in his face. Of course, you always do think of great one-liners after the dickheads have gone. But as I stood from my seat and splashed water into my mug, cleaning it out with a little dish-washing liquid brusquely, a multitude of great comebacks flashed through my mind.
I started muttering a few of them under my breath. "Why don't you just pull your service weapon out to get me to comply? No? How about you stand in the dock in the courtroom then, and face off against the arsehole who wants you dead? Or maybe you should just handcuff me, throw me in a cell and wait until I'm compliant enough to do as you command, oh fucking wise one."
A chuckle sounded out over my shoulder and the mug crashed to the bottom of the sink.
"Shit!" I cried, as I waited for it to fracture into a million pieces. It was made of sterner stuff.
I swung around and found Ben leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his impressive chest, a tribal tattoo peeking out from the sleeve of his t-shirt. A highly amused look on his face.
"If you like, you could just write 'em all down and post 'em to him later," he suggested in a drawl.
"That would mean I actually cared about what he said, " I pointed out, crossing my own arms.
"Oh, you cared. Otherwise Pierce wouldn't have said it."
Sweet Seduction Shield Page 7
