Chapter Four

Matthew pulled up in front of the private apartment block Jasmine indicated was hers.

‘Will you be all right?’ he asked her, concerned still.

She hadn’t said much on the journey. Matthew would like to have found out where it was they’d met before, but guessing she wouldn’t be up for idle chat, he didn’t push it. He’d noted the finger-shaped bruises on her shoulder as he held the car door for her, which meant this sort of thing had probably been a regular occurrence. One she’d felt powerless to do anything about and would therefore be beating herself up over now, humiliated, ashamed. Christ, these prats masquerading as men had a lot to answer for.

In answer to his question, Jasmine nodded, too quickly, taking a breath as she did. Matthew read the body language, unconvinced. More so, as she glanced worriedly towards the apartments and seemed reluctant to reach for her door handle.

‘You live on your own, I take it?’ he asked her.

A nervous nod of the head this time. Her boyfriend really had done a job on her, hadn’t he? Curtailing his anger, Matthew made a mental note to check this Connor guy out.

‘Does he have a key?’ he asked, though he’d already assumed he must have. Why else would she be scared witless? And she was. Matthew noticed the downcast eyes, the fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress, another bruise on her thigh.

‘Yes,’ she said, in a small voice. ‘I asked him for it back,’ she said, glancing quickly at Matthew and then away, ‘but …’

Figured. Matthew despaired inwardly. The guy was the type: nice to her, protective of her probably, until he’d wheedled a key out of her, parked his feet under the table and decided he owned her. What the hell had she been thinking? Matthew’s practised eye told him she might be a few years older than Ashley, but still she was way too young to be shacking up with someone like this Connor bloke.

Despairing of himself now, Matthew pulled himself up. It was none of his business. She’d obviously been taken in by him. Probably imagined herself in love with him. They were clever bastards some of them, oozing charm on the outside. Behind closed doors, though …

Suppressing a sigh, Matthew checked his watch. He should text Becky, find out about Ashley and let her know the state of play. Going inside with the girl alone wasn’t a smart move. He really should call in and enlist the help of a female police officer, but Jasmine was as likely to agree to that as she was to give a statement.

‘Do you want me to come in with you?’ he asked. ‘Make sure it’s safe?’

‘Would you?’ Jasmine glanced hopefully at him. ‘It’s just I’m the only resident at the moment. There’s someone moving into the apartment opposite next week, but …’

‘Give me one second.’ Matthew gave her a reassuring smile and reached for his phone. ‘I just need to check on Ashley and let Rebecca know where I am.’

Clearly relieved, the girl turned and smiled back. ‘She’s nice, your wife,’ she said. ‘Kind. I like her.’

‘Yeah.’ Matthew’s smile widened. ‘Me too.’ He keyed in a text: Checking out the property. Back asap. Hope Ash OK. Kiss Mia for me. Matthew then reached for his door and went around to help Jasmine out. He prided himself on his detecting skills but how girls walked in six-inch heels he would never fathom.

‘You’re not flat sharing then?’ he asked as they walked towards the apartment block.

‘No, it’s just me,’ she said, her eyes darting left and right, no doubt looking for signs of the boyfriend.

Who would have plenty of places to hide in, Matthew noted, if he was hanging around here. He turned his attention to the apartments, located not in the usual student type areas, as he’d expected, but on a new landmark development of luxury two bedroom apartments bordering open parkland and woodland. Way too secluded for Matthew’s liking.

Must have cost a bob or two, he reckoned, noting the motion sensitive lighting and plush carpeting as they entered the communal hallway. ‘Nice property,’ he commented, wondering at Jasmine’s circumstances.

‘Thanks.’ Jasmine offered him a small smile, as they stepped into the lift. ‘I bought it with my inheritance. I thought it would be a good investment.’

‘Inheritance?’ Matthew’s natural instinct was to probe further. She was well spoken, he’d already noted, no particular accent. Her family background must be reasonable if she’d inherited. Still he couldn’t place her, as in when and where he might have run into her.

‘My parents,’ Jasmine supplied. ‘Well, my dad. Mum died when I was five. Cancer,’ she elucidated, glancing down. ‘I lost Dad three years ago.’

‘Christ, sorry,’ Matthew offered his sincere condolences. ‘How did he …?’

‘Hit-and-run,’ Jasmine said, smiling stoically now and pulling in a huge breath.

Keeping a lid on the emotion, Matthew guessed. He knew all about that. ‘Sorry,’ he repeated, quashing an inclination to reach out to her. ‘That’s really hard.’

Her gaze flicked curiously to his.

‘I lost someone under similar circumstances,’ he explained.

‘Oh?’ She scanned his face.

‘My daughter,’ Matthew supplied, not sure why he was confiding stuff around the loss of Lily; he rarely did, except … the worst thing about that kind of pain was how utterly alone you felt with it. At least he’d had Becky. This girl possibly had no one, which might explain more why she’d hooked up with the dickhead of a boyfriend, someone she’d misguidedly thought might care for her. Plus, despite her outwardly confident appearance on the dance floor, she now looked lonely and vulnerable, and much younger than the make-up and clothes might convey.

‘Oh, how awful.’ Jasmine turned to search his eyes. Hers, striking electric blue, were wide with sympathy. ‘How old was she?’

Matthew glanced down, one hand automatically going to his temples, trying to still the flashback that would haunt him forever. His own daughter’s eyes, summer blue and once wide with the innocence of childhood, filled with pain and confusion, silently pleading, begging him, her daddy, to fix things as he’d cradled her in his arms. He hadn’t been able to fix it, to stop the lifeblood seeping from her impossibly tiny body. Feeling a familiar constriction in his throat, Matthew took a deep breath. ‘Too young,’ he said, once his emotions were safely in check.

‘I’m so sorry.’ Jasmine did reach out a hand, lightly brushing his arm.

‘It does get better,’ Matthew assured her, forcing a smile. Physical intimacy with a vulnerable young woman whilst alone in a lift definitely wasn’t a good idea, he reminded himself. ‘The pain never goes away, but it does get better.’

She smiled and nodded. ‘It’s a relief to be able to talk to someone, to be honest,’ she said, facing front as the lift stopped. ‘You know, without them looking awkward, I mean. People never really know what to say, do they?’

Yep, Matthew had been there too. ‘You talked to Ashley though, presumably?’ he asked, noting that Jasmine had stepped cautiously out as the doors opened, scanning the corridor as she did. The bastard had her scared of her own shadow. Matthew felt his jaw tighten afresh. What he’d give to have five minutes alone with this tosser, Connor. Unfortunately, wiping the floor with cowardly scum wasn’t something police protocol would allow either.

‘Ashley is probably the only one I can talk to.’ Jasmine threw him a brighter smile over her shoulder, as she led the way to her door. ‘She never says much about herself though. She certainly never mentioned you’d lost your little girl.’

That would be Ashley, Matthew thought, a closed book unless you prised information from her, which is why he’d been baffled when Jasmine’s questioning intimated she had knowledge of his personal circumstances, information regarding his dealings with Sullivan, some of which he wasn’t proud of. Coincidence, Matthew reassured himself, echoing Steve’s advice. They had been pretty standard questions, the sort of questions you might ask a policeman if you were writing a book, he supposed.

‘I’ll go in first, shall I? Make sure the coast is clear,’ he suggested as she hesitated at the front door.

She breathed out a sigh of relief and turned to drop her keys into his hand. ‘Thank you. I’m sure it will be fine, but …’ She stopped and shrugged uncertainly.

‘Best to be safe,’ Matthew assured her, pushing the key into the lock and trying to figure out what his next move should be. He couldn’t hang around all night, but she was scared, obviously with good reason. The fact that she was alone in an apartment building with nothing but open space around it concerned him.

Unsuccessfully trying Matthew for the umpteenth time, as they waited in hospital reception, Ashley sighed and pulled her phone away from her ear. ‘Do you think he should have gone home with her?’ she asked Rebecca, voicing her concerns for Matthew over again. ‘Shouldn’t he have called for backup or something?’

Rebecca eyed her amusedly. She understood why Ashley worried about him. How could they not worry about each other after all they’d been through? Even Matthew had taken to saying, Yes, Mother, though, when she nagged him, asking him if he had his asthma inhaler every morning without fail. Rebecca didn’t mind Ashley doing that in lieu of her. She did wish she wouldn’t worry quite so much, however. It was almost as if she was frightened that one day Matthew would go out and not come back. Rebecca couldn’t blame her for that either, given the nature of his job. She worried herself, every single day. Ashley’s reasons ran deeper though. Having been abandoned by her own mother, she seemed convinced that they would abandon her too. Rebecca so wished she could help Ashley let go of her ghosts and be as carefree as a teenager should be.

‘Backup? What, in case your friend tries to seduce him?’ she asked, attempting to lighten things a little.

At which, Ashley knitted her forehead into a scowl.

‘Doesn’t give Matthew much credit, imagining he’ll succumb to some young girl fluttering her eyelashes at him, does it?’ Rebecca suggested. Matthew was no saint. She’d caught him glancing at the odd passing attraction. Much as she would, to be fair, if a good-looking hunk of eye-candy sailed by.

‘I’m not saying he’d succumb.’ Ashley dragged her hair from her face. ‘She was all over him, though. He’d barely introduced himself and she’s, Oh, Matthew, I’m sooo excited to meet you. A real live detective inspector. Blinkity, blink.’ Ashley fluttered her own lashes demonstratively. ‘She’s so flipping obvious. It’s a wonder she didn’t say, excuse me, Mrs Adams, do you mind if I shag your husband?’

‘Well, obviously, I wouldn’t have said, help yourself …’ Rebecca couldn’t help but laugh, mostly at the affronted expression on Ashley’s face.

Ashley’s scowl deepened. ‘Becky, no offence, but don’t you think you’re being just a touch naïve?’ She twisted in her seat to lock serious eyes on hers. ‘It’s not Matthew I’m worried about. It’s her. Those questions she was asking? And then there was the Connor thing. I’m still trying to get my head around what happened there. He’s just not like that.’

‘They never are,’ Rebecca pointed out. ‘They tend to be sweetness and light in public and do their abusing in private.’

‘I know.’ Ashley shrugged and glanced at her phone again, as if willing it to ring. ‘It’s just … I dunno. Something just doesn’t add up.’

A detective in the making, Rebecca decided. ‘Ashley, she’s just a slip of a girl. I’m sure Matthew can handle himself. And if this Connor person is loitering about, which is what I imagine Matthew is concerned about, I’m pretty sure he can handle him too.’

‘Yeah, right.’ Ashley sighed. ‘For your information, though, she’s not a slip of a girl. She’s actually twenty-one and most definitely not a vestal virgin.’

‘Ooh,’ Rebecca gave her a look, ‘bitchy.’

‘Just saying. He should have exercised a bit more caution, that’s all. If I could get hold of him I’d warn him …’ Looking sheepish, Ashley trailed off.

‘Warn him?’ Rebecca glanced at her curiously. ‘Ashley, is there something more you’re not telling me?’ she asked, a trickle of apprehension tickling her spine. Had the girl got a reputation, a history of sleeping with married men or something?

Ashley shrugged again, awkwardly.

‘Ashley?’

‘She led Connor on,’ Ashley supplied. Reluctantly, Rebecca noted. Clearly, she was feeling traitorous, which was no bad thing, given she was supposed to be the girl’s friend. ‘A lot,’ Ashley went on. ‘I’m not worried about her actually getting anywhere with Matthew. I know if she comes on to him, Matthew will turn her down. It’s just I’m worried she might be pissed at him, you know?’

And conceivably make claims of some sort? Rebecca hadn’t considered that. And now that she had … No, surely not. The girl had been flirtatious, a bit OTT, but imagining she’d make false accusations was ludicrous. The boy had hit her. Admittedly, they hadn’t known the circumstances leading up to the argument, but the fact that he’d struck her was indisputable. Still, Rebecca made a mental note to text Matthew as soon as she could without being obvious. She trusted him, absolutely. She had to. Some of Matthew’s informants, sex workers – she recalled Jasmine’s reference to them – would happily offer him sexual favours to look the other way. She’d drive herself mad imagining scenarios where he might take up any offers. Matthew loved her, Rebecca had had no cause to doubt that. They’d lost their way after Lily, lain side by side in the same bed, yet poles apart, separated by their grief, their guilt. Matthew had carried that around like a lead weight in his heart. Rebecca hadn’t known then why his guilt ran so deep, that Matthew had known that sick animal Sullivan had had a part to play in their daughter’s death and had chosen not to tell her, protecting her, as was his nature. It had consumed him, little by little, eaten away at him each day like a cancer. He hadn’t been able to reach out and seek the comfort he so badly needed in her arms, because he hadn’t felt worthy of her love. She’d been sustained by the knowledge that he did still love her, though. He hadn’t been able to speak the words then, but his eyes – where so many dark shadows had danced – Rebecca had seen his love for her there. She’d felt it when they’d found each other again, made love to each other, tentatively at first, and then more passionately, tasting each other, touching each other to the very core. She wasn’t getting any younger though, the nagging doubt occurred. And as attractive as she’d felt, sexy even, wearing her new short silk slip dress, she’d definitely realised today she couldn’t compete with the Jasmines of the world any more.

Rebecca pondered Jasmine’s comment about having met Matthew before, something Matthew had apparently been struggling to recall, and then admonished herself. She was being ridiculous. His job brought him into contact with lots of people. Of course, he’d be unlikely to remember if she was just a bystander at some call out.

Still, Rebecca was relieved when Melanie appeared, gesturing them through to the cubicles. Obviously, she’d managed to short-circuit the system, bless her. She was a good friend. Rebecca missed Melanie’s company in the Radiology Department, her penchant for juicy gossip always seemed to make the working day shorter, but she was glad now that her incorrigible friend had moved to work in A&E.

‘And what have you been up to?’ Melanie asked, eyeing Ashley’s party attire as Rebecca helped her hobble over. ‘Not drunken brawling in the streets, I hope.’

‘What, on Coke?’ Ashley rolled her eyes. ‘Chance would be a fine thing with these two keeping beady eyes on me.’

‘You mean they’re not letting you lie around drunk in gutters? Quel horreur!’ Melanie stared at her in mock astonishment. ‘Indulge them, Ashley, they care about you. There’s plenty of time for imbibing once you hit eighteen.’

Giving Rebecca a wink, she motioned them through. ‘No Matthew?’ she enquired, rather hopefully, Rebecca noticed, smiling. Mel made no secret of the fact that she thought Matthew was hot stuff, fanning her face and crying, ‘Oh, my …’ whenever she saw him. It was all theatricals, Rebecca knew. Mel had been responsible for bringing them together, made it her mission in life to make sure they stayed together during the bleak times. She’d been there for Rebecca when she’d gone into too-premature labour and lost the child they’d so badly wanted not long after Lily had died. The much-needed friend who’d gently reminded her how rock solid Matthew was when the foundations of her marriage seemed to be crumbling.

‘No,’ Ashley supplied, over her shoulder. ‘He’s with a trollop.’

‘Ah.’ Melanie furrowed her brow, apparently at a loss for a suitable retort.

Jasmine really did wonder what he’d got between his ears. Her only hope for the foreseeable future was that what Connor lacked in brains he’d make up for in sexual prowess. Highly unlikely, she thought, irked by the fact that she was having to repeat herself like a parrot. Sporty and good-looking he might be, but Jasmine was pretty sure he’d need a diagram to find her erogenous zones and a dictionary to know how to spell them.

‘I said, I’m sorry, and I want you to come over,’ she repeated it slowly, wondering whether Connor, who was clearly cerebrally challenged, might be the flaw in her carefully prepared plan.

‘Why?’ Connor asked warily.

‘So I can apologise.’ Jasmine scowled, noticed the furrow in her forehead through the bathroom mirror and immediately felt annoyed beyond belief.

‘You just did,’ Connor pointed out sulkily.

Honestly, he sounded like a petulant child. The great bloody wimp. ‘Properly!’ Jasmine snapped, and then glanced worriedly towards the loo door. She really didn’t need Connor playing hard to get with a copper in her lounge in danger of overhearing. ‘I want to make it up to you, Connor,’ she amended her tone to syrupy sweet. ‘I was vile to you. I didn’t mean to be. It’s just … I don’t know, hormones, I suppose. And frustration. I’m so horny right now … Hormones do that, you know.’

‘They do?’ Connor still sounded wary.

‘They do,’ Jasmine assured him, doing her best to sound seductively wanton, whilst going cross-eyed in despair. She was going to have to spell it out, wasn’t she? ‘I really fancy you, Connor. I want you. Here. Now. But I need you to be forceful. You know, manly. Show me that you want me.’

Connor hesitated, causing Jasmine to clench her teeth hard. ‘I do want you,’ he said eventually in that gruff, strangulated way blokes did when they were getting aroused. He was probably getting off at the thought of it. Ugh. Men, they were so predictable.

‘So you’ll come then?’ Too soon probably. Jasmine sighed inwardly.

‘All right,’ Connor said, after another pause, during which time he’d no doubt been considering what he’d be missing if he didn’t.

Got him, Jasmine thought, immensely relieved. She needed him so she would shag him if she had to, but not yet. He was back on the hook. That was where she needed him for now, on a promise, desperate to get his end away, poor sod. It’s worth waiting for, Connor.

Examining her reflection, Jasmine puckered up her lips and checked her lip gloss, and then trailed a finger over her cleavage, showed off to maximum advantage in her low-cut dress.

Connor would soon be nice and compliant again, she thought confidently. Her dad had been right about men sniffing around, only after what they could get. They’d dump her as soon as they’d had it, he’d warned her. He’d been right. Jasmine traced her torso, her hand coming to rest on her tummy, now as flat and empty as she’d felt. She’d lost everything. Her plans, her dreams, all gone, thanks to that arrogant bastard, Adams.

‘Jas, are you still there?’ Connor said in her ear, like an irritating little bug.

‘What?’ Jasmine answered sharply.

‘I said it’ll probably take me half an hour to—’

‘Give me an hour,’ Jasmine cut him short. ‘I just have to, you know, do what women … Bugger. Hold on, there’s someone at the door. My neighbour probably. Forgot her key and after her spare. Ring me back in ten minutes, will you?’

Connor did as obliged. She knew he would. Perfect timing. The copper was just accepting a second coffee when he rang. ‘Connor?’ she answered the call, making sure to say his name whilst turning eyes wide with terror in the copper’s direction. ‘No, it’s fine,’ she said cryptically, keeping the conversation short. ‘Yes, perfectly. Bye.’