‘Yes. Am I under arrest or something? Am I under caution?’
‘You’re not under arrest or caution, we just want to have a conversation. You’re free to go at any time. However you should be aware that if you do leave, we may have to ask you to come into the station.’
Lucy began to shake. Why is this happening? Having nothing to hide, she knew that the best course of action would be to just answer the officer’s questions. ‘I understand. Ask away.’
‘We know that all three of the murdered men were known to you on probation. Did any of them express concerns about being harassed or followed?’
‘Any conversations where risks are raised are shared with Mark. Off the top of my head, I never met Drew, he was coming in so I could prepare a report for court. Neither of the other two men discussed any concerns they had about people after them. You would need to check the records if you’re looking for absolute certainty.’
‘Were you contacted by anyone who felt at risk from Mr Talbot, Mr Millard or Mr O’Dowd?’
‘Louise Millard never contacted me directly. I generally liaised with Sharon when it came to the victims, because it’s not appropriate for me to speak with them. As you know I did have concerns about Mick’s relationship with Vicki Wilkinson.’
‘So, no one threatened these men?’
‘No. Don’t you think I would have said something?’
‘Normally, we would.’ Maggie jumped into the conversation. ‘However, you failed to let us know when your husband …’ Maggie looked down at her notes ‘Patrick Quinn, was involved in an altercation with Mr O’Dowd … and we also learnt from our enquiries, that someone overheard Robert Millard tell your husband that he thought you were having an affair with a police officer.’
Lucy could feel the colour draining from her face. The room swirled before her eyes and she felt breathless. Why the hell would Robert say that to Patrick?
‘Are you OK, Lucy? Kat, go get some water.’ Maggie reached out and touched Lucy’s hand, but she snatched it away. ‘Calm down, Lucy. It looks like you’re having a panic attack. Breathe in and out, OK? I’ve just sent Kat to go and get you some water.’ Lucy bent over and put her head between her knees while Maggie rubbed her back. ‘Deep breaths, Lucy. That’s it. Deep breaths …’
Fifteen minutes had passed, and Lucy felt calmer. She had been given water and eventually managed to control her breathing. Now she was back at the table and the officers were about to continue. ‘Everything OK to carry on, Lucy?’
‘Uh, yes. Sorry, I don’t know what came over me then. You’re right. My husband did get into a fight with Mick O’Dowd. I didn’t think to speak to you about it because … well, I guess I figured you knew the story and if you had any questions, you’d come ask me.’ She couldn’t meet their eye. ‘Looking back, I suppose I should have said something. As for the other thing. I had no idea that Patrick knew or spoke to Robert Millard. I don’t talk to my husband about work stuff, I don’t frequent pubs in the evenings and there is no way I’m having an affair with a police officer … my god, my husband would—’ Lucy stopped short.
She was too ashamed to continue.
‘Your husband would what, Lucy?’ Maggie leaned forward.
Lucy gripped her hands together and tried to stay calm. ‘My husband would have told me about a conversation like that. He never did, so I can only assume he figured Robert was lying. But that’s only a guess. I suppose you’d have to speak to him.’
‘Yes, I suppose we might have to do that. All right, sorry to have had to put you through this. Are you sure you’re OK?’ Maggie frowned.
Lucy nodded. She felt sick and needed some fresh air. ‘Are we finished? Only I have a few cases booked in and if I need to organize cover, I’ll have to do it now.’
‘We’re done. If we have anymore questions for you – we’ll let you know. Thanks for your time.’
Lucy showed the officers out of the building and ran to the toilets barely making it into the cubicle before she threw up. She hadn’t been feeling well lately and speaking with the officers had not helped. But she also feared it could be something else. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out the pregnancy test she’d picked up at the chemist earlier.
She needed to know.
Oh God. Is Patrick involved in any of this? Why did Robert Millard say I was having an affair with a police officer? Why didn’t Patrick say anything to me?
Lucy recalled a night that Patrick had come home from the pub fuming. His anger was unleashed full force.
She traced the scar above her eyebrow slowly. Another reminder of his so-called love.
She was broken.
She felt broken.
Physically, financially, but most of all … emotionally. He turned her from a confident, carefree, intelligent woman, into a shell. She felt like nothing. Like she was in someone else’s body, skin, mindset. She leaned her head against the cubicle wall and her thoughts wandered.
I actually preferred the beatings. I knew what to expect. Bruises fade or could be covered up. But emotional scars stay. Eat away at my very existence. Until I believe I am nothing, too.
I gained weight in the hopes that this would turn him off sexually. Leggings, PJ bottoms, and oversized jumpers to make myself less attractive. I even stopped wearing make-up unless I absolutely had to.
‘Look at you, you ugly, fat, bitch!’
‘Fucking slag.’
‘Stupid bitch!’
The words and phrases I’m greeted with on a daily basis.
When Patrick first started with his insults, not long after we were married, I argued back.
‘Don’t call me that!’
This just encouraged him more. The twisted grin and empty, drunken stare.
‘Who do you think you’re talking to, bitch!?’ I could feel the tension rise in the room as he approached and towered over me. His forehead pushing against mine and if I tried to turn away – he’d push harder. Teeth clenched and that sneer mocking me.
‘Why do you make me do this? Why do you have to piss me off?’
If I answered, I got a slap, or a shove. If I didn’t answer, I got a slap, or a punch. So instead, I cried, and Patrick laughed. I wish I had the courage to stop him.
Lucy snapped back into reality and looked at the pregnancy test she held in her hand.
It was positive.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
Lucy wasn’t sure how she managed to make it home, but she did. Sitting in the living room, she was trying to work up the courage to tell Patrick about the baby. He already had two kids from two different mothers, but Lucy was never quite sure how he’d feel if they were to have a child. Or even if she wanted to have a baby, especially when the sex was forced. How could I let this happen?
Patrick often made Lucy feel it was her fault that he was involved in years of court battles with Siobhan’s mother. But it had been Lucy who spent hours typing up the paperwork, paying the solicitors and barristers, and taking days off work to sit outside the family court room while Patrick was trying to get custody of Siobhan.
Her phone pinged. A text from Patrick. He was on his way home and wanted Lucy to go to the shop to get some beers on her way home from work. She told him she’d been unwell, so was already home. Instead of showing any concern, his reply was:
Can you get the beers or what?
Charming.
Not wanting to get into an argument, Lucy grabbed her coat. She thought that the fresh air might infuse her with courage to tell Patrick the baby news. She was so confused. Lucy grabbed an extra can of beer from the shop to put him in a good mood.
Turning the corner onto the cul-de-sac where they lived, Lucy saw Patrick’s car in the drive; he was obviously closer to home than she thought. She took a deep breath and pasted a smile on her face to open the front door.
‘Hello? Patrick? Where are you?’
‘In the kitchen. Have you been to the shop yet?’
Lucy placed the bag on the counter, trying to
gauge his mood. He seemed OK.
Patrick reached in and pulled out the cans.
‘Eight? What have you done?’
‘Wh-what do you mean?’
He laughed in her face. ‘Why so nervous? Have you actually done something? I was just surprised to see eight cans; you’re normally the beer fucking Nazi.’
‘Oh …’ she joined in the laughter, hoping her nerves didn’t give her away. ‘I just thought with you looking for work and all the pressure we’re under, you deserved a treat.’ She could feel herself gagging as the words left her lips.
‘Thanks, babe.’ He pulled her in for a kiss. Lucy felt like turning away but that would only enrage him – the feel of his lips on hers made her cringe.
Lucy gently pushed Patrick away. ‘I do have something to tell you but …’ she could see his face change. ‘It’s not bad, Patrick – why are you looking at me like that?’
‘Well … what is it then?’
Lucy reached into her pocket and pulled out the positive pregnancy test. Patrick’s eyes widened. He looked happy, but she couldn’t be sure.
‘Is that what I think it is? Are you pregnant, babe?’
‘Yes.’
Patrick came towards her quickly and her natural reflex made Lucy pull her arms up to protect herself.
‘Why are you doing that? I just want to hug you … this is the best news ever!’
Lucy felt foolish then, but this is what her life had become. Not knowing how to react. ‘So, you’re happy?’
‘Of course! I’m going to be a dad again. You and I are going to have a baby together! Why wouldn’t I be happy?’ Patrick pulled her closer.
She felt like she was suffocating, and the reality soon set it. Of course, he was happy – she was tied to him, for life – and no matter what her future held, Patrick would always have a connection. Maybe he won’t hurt me anymore …
‘Time to celebrate! Well me, anyway, as you can’t drink while you’re pregnant!’ He cracked open the lager. ‘This really is the best news! Can you put those cans in the fridge, Lucy – you know how I hate warm beer,’ he strolled into the living room.
What have I done?
After telling Patrick the news about the baby, Lucy went upstairs and called Sarah. She forgot to call her boss when she got in earlier, but hoped Sarah would’ve covered for her. Sarah knew that Lucy hadn’t been feeling well lately. Sarah was silent on the other end of the phone as Lucy told her.
‘Are you still there, Sarah?’
‘Yes. I’m just worried about you, Lucy. Having a baby is not going to solve your problems. It could make it worse! We both know that the risk of domestic abuse is greater for women who are pregnant. Oh, Lucy, I don’t mean to preach, but how did you let this happen?’
Lucy began to cry. ‘I know, Sarah, I know. What have I done?’
‘OK, hun. Calm down. Don’t start stressing yourself out. Maybe this is just the opportunity you need, OK. You can come stay with me and Justin until you figure things out. We can speak to Andy at work and see if he can help—’
‘I can’t tell anyone at work. And Patrick would kill me if I left …’ Lucy whispered. It was then that she looked up and saw him standing in the door. Lucy gasped.
‘I have to go now, Sarah,’ Lucy said coldly. She saw the look in Patrick’s eyes and ended the call. The phone slipped from her hand and the screen smashed into pieces on the floor.
Three hours later, her lip was split and swollen. Blood dripped onto the floor of the bathroom. She looked in the mirror and gasped at her reflection.
Her right eye was swollen shut. Her stomach and back ached where Patrick had repeatedly pummelled her with his fists. She could still see the glazed look in his eyes and the rage seeping out of him with each punch as he shouted, ‘You think you’re going to leave me?!’
She needed to lie down and winced as she made her way to the bedroom. Lucy was scared. Remembering her phone call with Sarah, the horror in her friend’s voice at the mention of her pregnancy. Lucy felt ashamed. If Patrick found out, he’d kill her … he really would. He prided himself on the persona he put out there and if that was shattered, he’d snap. Not to mention if Claire Knight ever found out. The weekly check-ins would start again, and Lucy would have no choice but to disclose to her line manager about the abuse she was enduring at the hands of her husband.
Oh God, what have I done?
The pain in her belly felt like period cramps. But she was pregnant, it couldn’t be. Her face glistened with sweat as she struggled to get off the bed. Using the wall to brace herself, Lucy forced herself to get to the bathroom. She saw the blood. There would be no baby. Calling the NHS helpline from the landline, they told her there wasn’t much they could do, but if the bleeding persisted, she should get herself into A&E. She didn’t bother telling Patrick then. She would only get the blame. She left him downstairs and returned to her room. She hugged the pillow and lay down.
Her sleep was restless that night. Waking up every hour, drenched in sweat, feeling confused, and clutching her stomach in the hopes that her unborn child was still thriving in her womb. The pain still unbearable.
That was when it hit her. The feeling of emptiness enveloped her – she knew the baby was gone, and the depression set in, shrouding her in complete darkness.
CHAPTER EIGHTY
Lucy had taken compassionate leave from work for the remainder of the week, explaining to her line manager as much about the situation as she could – she left out the violence and hoped that Sarah would keep her promise. Andy was very understanding and for that Lucy was grateful. She spent most of the week sleeping and fighting off the depression that threatened to take hold. When she’d texted Sarah the news, Sarah had immediately tried to call her, but Lucy couldn’t handle speaking to anyone.
On her way back from the GP surgery, where she picked up a sick note, Lucy got a text message. It was from Rory. She opened up the message and began to read.
I shouldn’t tell you this. My dad is having an affair. With someone named Shell. I’m sorry.
Lucy stopped in her tracks in the middle of the pavement. It had started to rain but she stood dead still and let the water wash away her tears. An affair? Shell? Who the hell?
The tears streamed down her face and she ran the rest of the way home. She burst through the front door. Running up the stairs and into the bedroom, she checked for signs of Patrick. She rummaged through all his pockets, looking for something to prove he was having an affair with this Shell woman. Is this where he went when he said he was going to look for work? Was Shell the mysterious Steve that Patrick was always meeting up with? She could have kicked herself for being so naive.
Lucy didn’t have any time to waste, she went to the wardrobe, grabbed her overnight bag, and began stuffing it with anything that would fit inside. She’d call Sarah and ask if she could stay with her while she worked out what she would do next. Siobhan was being picked up by her grandparents from school and staying the weekend. Lucy would have to figure out a way to explain. She’d also contact the social worker. There was no way she’d allow Siobhan to be left alone with her father.
Rory hadn’t been in contact since he’d witnessed Patrick and Lucy fighting the last weekend he had stayed. Lucy had seen the pain in his eyes and had messaged him to apologize, but Rory was angry at his father. Angrier than Lucy had ever seen him, but she didn’t tell Rory that Patrick blamed her for that. He was just a child and didn’t need to know.
After putting up with the shame, humiliation, and fear for years – this was the last straw. Lucy laughed. An almost hysterical sounding laugh, but then again – she felt crazy. What the fuck was I thinking? Years of abuse … YEARS … in the time they’d been together, and a miscarriage. But when Patrick crossed the line it was by cheating with another woman. The ultimate betrayal. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back!
Lucy was in shock. She frantically threw some final pieces of clothing into her suitcase and looked around the ro
om. It was a bomb sight, clothes strewn everywhere, but she didn’t care anymore. She was getting out. Deep down, she’d always had a suspicion that he’d been cheating throughout the whole marriage, but there was never any evidence. She’d ignored the niggling thoughts. Buried them. Even if she had confronted him, he’d have done what he always did: deny and make her feel like she was being paranoid, stupid, ridiculous.
Lucy looked at her watch. Patrick could be home at any minute. She needed to find her documents: bank book, passport, and the small amount of cash she had hidden away for emergencies. As she rummaged in a wardrobe, she heard a creak on the landing. She froze. It was probably nothing, but her heart was racing. She started searching through the cupboards again, tossing stuff out onto the floor. A cold voice behind her stopped her dead.
‘And just where do you think you’re going, bitch?’
Lucy could smell the alcohol before she even saw him. Had he been in the house the whole time? She could have kicked herself for not checking all the rooms first.
‘You’re even more stupid than I thought. You not going to answer me? Nothing to say? You really think I’m going to let you leave?’
Those were the last words Lucy heard before Patrick’s closed fist connected with the side of her face.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
The pain in her head was excruciating. Lucy tried to open her eyes, but her vision was blurred. She heard footsteps; someone outside the bedroom door. She thought it was pushed open – there was a shadow. A person? Or were her eyes playing tricks on her?
Lucy could barely move. Voices. She thought she heard voices? From the bathroom but she couldn’t be sure. Was someone was running down the stairs? She never heard the front door. She must be imagining things. What had happened? She remembered flashes: Patrick’s face leering closer, pain and confusion. Violence. But she couldn’t make her mind settle and only flickering images of the previous hours remained.
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