Chapter Seven

‘Becky?’ Matthew checked it was her, and then breathed a sigh of relief, the sound of her voice seeming to anchor him for a second in a sea of madness. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked her, stupidly, as if she could possibly be.

Becky hesitated, and then, ‘Mia’s sleeping,’ she said, communicating that she couldn’t speak freely. She probably didn’t want to speak to him at all. Could he blame her?

‘I take it you’ve seen it?’ Matthew asked, his stomach knotting inside him. Of course she had. It was all over social media, plus her answer to his earlier call had already told him as much. Despite the hell she must be going through, she’d been trying to warn him someone was there. Reporters? Police, possibly? He wasn’t surprised. Given his job and the last time he’d been in the news, the video had probably gone viral by now. Matthew could almost see the headlines: Hero Cop’s Halo Tarnished. Until they got hold of the details, that was, the fact that there was blood at the scene. He tried hard not to visualise what kind of headline that would make.

‘You mean your porno flick?’ Becky replied, the bitterness in her voice cutting him to the core. ‘Yes, I’ve seen it. I’m not sure it captures you in your best light, but …’

Hearing the sob catch in her throat, Matthew felt like crying with her. He wanted to hold her. To try somehow to explain. How? He had no explanations, none that sounded plausible. He couldn’t bear to tell her what would inevitably sound like a lie. He couldn’t go home either, talk to her face to face, which he desperately wanted to do. Whatever had happened to him, a crime resulting in serious injury had been committed. Whether he was a willing participant in the events that preceded that crime was irrelevant. The fact was, he’d been there. He was part of it. Also a victim of crime, Matthew reminded himself, and then swallowed back that thought, because he simply wasn’t ready to try to deal with the emotions around it. His priority right now was his family’s safety. He obviously had been set-up, but how did he convince anyone else of that? Even to Matthew he looked as guilty as sin. No, he couldn’t go back until he had some idea of why he had been set-up, and to what end.

Steeling himself, Matthew offered all the explanation he could. ‘I’m in trouble, Becky,’ he said quietly, as if she hadn’t already gleaned that much. ‘Whatever happens, whatever anyone says, however … damning … it looks,’ he went on, though it was crucifying him to do this to her, shut her out, offer her nothing and expect her support in return, ‘please believe I didn’t do it.’

‘Damning?’ Becky laughed incredulously. ‘You mean more damning?’

Matthew heard the hurt in her voice and it tore at his heart. ‘Possibly,’ he answered evasively, feeling more angry and ashamed of what had actually gone on by the second. Even if he could bring himself to give her details though, it wasn’t an option. He’d ditched his own phone. He doubted his calls would be being monitored that end yet, but he couldn’t give her information that might be accessed and lead to his whereabouts.

‘However damning what might look?’ Becky asked urgently. ‘Matthew, you need to tell me.’

‘I …’ Matthew started, and faltered. Even thinking about how stupid he’d been, how useless and powerless, had his heart palpitating. He felt nauseous to his very soul. He couldn’t. Simply couldn’t. Was she really likely to believe he’d been drugged? Unaccountable for his actions? That video showed him standing, functioning under his own steam. How could she accept that he had nothing but vague recollections, no memory at all of how blood came to be splattered all over the walls?

‘Matthew?’

Matthew hesitated, and then, ‘I don’t know,’ he said hoarsely, wishing he was there with her, that she could see how desperate he was. Above all, how desperate he was to know that she would believe him. ‘I can’t say, Becky. Not now.’

‘I see,’ Becky said flatly, causing Matthew’s breath to hitch in his chest.

‘I would if I could, Becky,’ he said urgently. ‘It’s a huge ask, I know, but I need you to trust me.’ His words sounded hollow, even to his own ears. ‘I need some time … to sort things out. I will be back, and I will explain. As soon as I can, I promise.’

‘Matthew, you’re scaring me.’ Becky sounded frightened, terrified.

And Matthew hated himself for it. ‘I’m so sorry.’ He swallowed, feeling as if his emotions were going into freefall. Without her, they would be. He couldn’t lose her. He didn’t want her to go through this on her own, but what good would he be if he was arrested? The blood would soon be discovered. And then, with nothing to offer in his defence, nothing that sounded remotely feasible, he might well be charged. He needed time to think, to try to recall. To establish what kind of threat there was to his family. How could he do that without the facts? ‘I have to go, Becky,’ he said quickly, aware of the minutes ticking by. ‘I’ll be in touch soon.’

‘Matthew, I don’t understand. Please tell me,’ Becky pleaded. ‘What’s going—’

‘I can’t explain now,’ Matthew cut across her. ‘I swear I would if I could.’ He was already beginning to sound like a guilty man, he realised, but he needed to end the call. He’d need to dump this phone, too. Frequently changed pay as you go phones were his only option. He shouldn’t have phoned her at all. If information had already been sent to the station by whoever was behind all this, detailed photographs, videos that hadn’t yet been released, then the police would definitely be monitoring all incoming calls and email, trying to locate his whereabouts. He had no way of knowing what was happening. One thing he did know was that he couldn’t go in, not yet. Not until he’d tried to make sense of the mess in his head.

Rebecca didn’t answer, causing a new type of panic to twist in his chest. ‘Becky?’

‘I’m here,’ she said, after a second.

She sounded exhausted, disillusioned. How the hell else did he expect her to sound? He’d failed in his fundamental obligations as a husband and a father, failed to keep his family safe from harm. Not once, but twice, causing her the kind of pain no one should ever have to endure. And now he was failing for a third time. He wanted to ask her whether she believed in her heart he would do such a thing. He wanted to say I love you. Three simple words he’d had to relearn, because he’d convinced himself she couldn’t possibly still love someone who’d kept information from her, information which might have stopped their child being murdered. And now he was doing it all over again, because he’d allowed himself to be victimised all over again. A grown man this time, not a kid mercilessly picked on by male youths bigger than him, defenceless against scum like Sullivan. Yeah, right. Some man.

Matthew squeezed the bridge of his nose hard between his thumb and forefinger. ‘I’ll be in touch as soon as I can,’ he said throatily. Then, not knowing what else to say that she’d be likely to want to hear, he forced himself to press End Call.

She hadn’t told him she loved him. They hardly ever ended a call without reminding each other of what had sustained them through the horror. The one precious thing that Patrick Sullivan couldn’t destroy, no matter how hard he’d tried. Willing back the tears – she absolutely didn’t want Mia to see her cry – Rebecca dragged a hand under her nose. She hadn’t even said goodbye. He was keeping the truth from her. She felt like laughing at that inspired deduction. Obviously he’d been keeping the truth from her for some while, so someone had felt inclined to open her eyes. Rebecca swallowed back a hard knot of anger. The sex worker in the video? Attempting to blackmail him? In which case, if it was money she’d wanted, she hadn’t given him much time to deliver before uploading that video. Rebecca really did feel like laughing then, at her idiotic naivety. Was that likely to have been the first time he’d done this sort of thing? Wasn’t it more likely the woman had already made her demands and then done this precisely because he hadn’t delivered? The perks of the job were there for the taking, after all. Or rather the ‘buying’, she thought cynically. She’d never kept tabs on Matthew. She’d trusted him, implicitly. Not just because she’d had to for her sanity’s sake, but because of who he was: a man who was determined to rid the streets of vermin who preyed on young girls, depraved parasites, like Sullivan. He’d been obsessed with it, like a man on a mission sometimes, even though it was a hopeless task. Had she been so wrong about him?

Matthew had sounded desperate, as confused as she felt, scared. Something awful had happened, something more terrible than portrayed in that video. The Matthew she knew, thought she knew, wouldn’t leave her to face reporters at the door, his colleagues, to lie for him without good reason. How had it happened? Any of it? When and where? After he’d dropped Jasmine off, presumably. A girl he’d apparently met before, the thought occurred, and which Matthew had denied any knowledge of. Had he been lying about that, about other things? No one could know another person completely, after all. There would always be secrets in a relationship, wouldn’t there? Were there really so many deep dark secrets in hers?

No, that was nonsense. She was condemning him, and he hadn’t yet explained … Dammit! Why hadn’t he? A cold shiver running through her, Rebecca wrapped her arms about herself. She glanced at Mia contentedly sleeping, her thumb plugged into her mouth and blissfully unaware of the chaos their lives had descended into. She pictured Matthew next to her, as he had been just the other night. He’d persuaded Mia to part with her thumb, she recalled, on the pretext of wanting to find out what flavour it was. Mia had giggled when he’d tasted it, laughed until she’d almost wet herself when he’d pulled a face and spat it out, preferring to munch on her tummy. He’d coaxed her to take her inhaler then. Using the adult aerochamber he used for his own preventative medication, even though he hated himself for his weakness, as he perceived it, he’d led by example and then helped Mia with hers, gently trying to convince his little girl it wasn’t a scary thing.

She’d watched them sleeping. Matthew on his back, Mia nestled snugly into the crook of his arm. She was so like Matthew, her rich velvet brown eyes a mirror of his, always inquisitive, so like Lily it broke Rebecca’s heart to look at her sometimes. Matthew’s heart had been broken too, she reminded herself, almost irretrievably. Rebecca had truly thought she’d lost him, so emotionally adrift had he been. He’d found his way back to her though. What had made him retreat again? His job, she’d thought initially, some awful case he simply wasn’t ready to deal with, but now … Had he been leading some kind of double life? Seeing other women? The thought was incomprehensible. Matthew, the Matthew she thought she knew, simply wouldn’t. But yet, the evidence was there. She’d seen it with her own eyes.

Doubt assailed Rebecca from all angles. She just didn’t know what to think, to feel. However unsure she was though, however devastated and confused, one thing she knew for certain was that Matthew would die before allowing anything to hurt his children again, to hurt this child. Rebecca wasn’t naïve, not in reality. Men strayed, women did. It was a fact. Love wasn’t invincible, there were no guarantees it was for life, but surely her instincts couldn’t be so wrong. Matthew wouldn’t do this. Couldn’t have.

She wouldn’t judge him. When she saw him, face to face, talked to him, whatever his explanations were, then she would know, then she would judge him. Dragging her unruly tresses from her face, which she hadn’t yet had a chance to brush, Rebecca drew in a long breath. Right now, she needed to pull herself together. She hadn’t caved in before. She’d survived after Lily, after that animal Sullivan had tortured her family in the worst possible way. She’d felt as if she were clinging on by her fingernails sometimes, but she had survived. Never had she thought she’d be so close to the abyss again, but she would not crumble. Mia and Ashley needed her. Matthew did too. And she would be there for him, because though he’d made mistakes, he had always tried to be there for her. For now, until she had Matthew’s side of the story, Rebecca would be strong for her family, because they needed her to be.

Hastily shrugging out of her dressing gown, she reached for her leggings and top and tugged them on. She’d shower later, she decided, quickly tying her hair up in a topknot. Scrutinising herself briefly, she checked again on Mia and then went along the landing. They’d need breakfast of some sort. Perhaps she should ask the reporters outside how long they intended to camp on her lawn and offer them some too, she thought sardonically.

About to tap on Ashley’s door, Rebecca stopped short. Ashley was obviously on the phone to someone. Turning away, Rebecca stopped again, realising she could hear the other person speaking. Jasmine? Fury rising in her craw, even though she didn’t yet know if she had anything to blame the girl for, Rebecca turned back, and listened.

‘I didn’t shag him, if that’s what you’re accusing me of, Ashley,’ Jasmine said defensively.

‘So what time did he leave?’ Ashley asked, holding onto her temper, Rebecca deduced from her tone.

‘I don’t know. I didn’t check the clock.’ Jasmine sounded irritated now. ‘It was late. He left. I went to bed. Obviously he used his time after he left me to go kerb crawling,’ she added nastily. ‘Perhaps you should ask your foster mother why he’d feel the need to.’

Enough. Quashing the anger bubbling inside her, Rebecca eased the door open and slipped quietly inside to see the two girls were Skyping.

‘What was all that crap with Connor?’ Ashley asked, choosing to ignore the previous comment. Rebecca had to admire her restraint.

‘What is this, a blooming inquisition?’ Rebecca heard Jasmine’s peeved reply as she stepped up to the computer. ‘We had an argument. That was all. People do, you know, Ashley. Even your perfect foster parents—’

Obviously noticing Rebecca’s presence – Rebecca making sure she did – Jasmine stopped. ‘Hi, Mrs Adams,’ she said, waving – Rebecca could hardly believe it – and plastering what was fast becoming a very annoying bright smile on her face. ‘How are you?’

‘Pretty crap, actually,’ Rebecca answered honestly. ‘But you will have gleaned that, having watched the video, won’t you?’

‘Oh,’ said Jasmine, glancing sympathetically between Ashley and her. ‘Yes. Sorry about that, Mrs Adams. It was a shitty thing he did but even shittier that someone should upload it. I mean, I can’t imagine what you must be going through.’

Rebecca ignored that. ‘I gather you don’t know what time he left?’ she said, wanting Jasmine to realise she’d overheard her catty remarks.

Jasmine at least had the good grace to look contrite. ‘No. No, I don’t.’

‘So, how long did he stay?’

‘Sorry?’

‘Approximately.’ Rebecca folded her arms and waited.

Jasmine shrugged and glanced away. ‘A while,’ she answered vaguely.

‘Which would be?’ Rebecca pushed on, determined to elicit all the information she could, no matter how painful. ‘One hour? Two?’

‘I’m not sure. An hour and a half, maybe.’ Jasmine’s cheeks flushed. ‘I offered him a coffee,’ she explained, dropping her gaze and fiddling with a long strand of hair. ‘He asked if I had anything stronger and … well, he had quite a few actually.’

‘I see.’ Rebecca nodded, though she didn’t see at all. Matthew had turned to drink during his darkest moments: when his father, disgraced and kicked off the force, had taken his own life; after Lily. He would still drink more than was good for him when he was worried, struggling with some gruesome case most likely, but seeing what alcohol had done to his father, to his sister, Matthew had cut down considerably. Drinking more than the legal limit and driving was something he would never do.

Looking Jasmine over, who looked like butter wouldn’t melt, Rebecca steeled herself. ‘Did you sleep with him?’ she asked bluntly.

‘No!’ Jasmine’s gaze shot back to her face. ‘Look,’ she faltered, her eyes drifting down again and then back, ‘I’ll be honest, Mrs Adams, because it’s obvious that your husband isn’t being.’ Again, she hesitated, now looking embarrassed. ‘We had an affair, a while back now, and he wanted to have sex last night, for old time’s sake, but I—’

‘Bullshit!’ Ashley sprang from her chair, almost knocking it over in the process. ‘That’s utter crap, Jasmine, and you know—’

‘I told him no! We just talked!’ Jasmine shouted over her, looking between Ashley, who was visibly fuming, and Rebecca, who was working hard to remain composed.

Focussing on the self-inflicted pain caused by her fingernails digging hard into one of her palms, rather than the pain in her heart, Rebecca held eye contact with Jasmine. She would not give her the satisfaction of seeing her fall apart. ‘About?’ she asked, unsteadily.

Jasmine’s answer to which was another vague shrug. ‘Stuff,’ she said. ‘He’s talked about it before, but he’s obviously still struggling to come to terms with it.’

‘To terms with what?’ Ashley asked, all but spitting the words out.

‘His daughter’s death,’ Jasmine supplied, glancing guardedly at Rebecca and then away again. ‘How he’d held her, after the accident and didn’t want to let her go.’

Rebecca flinched as that revelation hit her like another low blow to the stomach.

‘About how angry and guilty he’d felt,’ Jasmine continued, her eyes flicking back to Rebecca. ‘He said he’d wanted to find the man responsible and kill him. Patrick … O’Sullivan or Sullivan, I think he said his name was. He wasn’t making much sense by then, to be honest. He’d had too much to drink.’

Rebecca swallowed back the nausea climbing steadily inside her. ‘What else?’ she asked calmly.

‘That’s utter crap!’ Ashley intervened furiously. ‘Don’t listen to her, Becky.’

But Rebecca wasn’t going to be distracted. ‘What else?’ she demanded.

‘He … said his marriage was in trouble. That he’d tried to make a go of it, but it just wasn’t working.’ Again, Jasmine answered falteringly. ‘He said he was lonely, that he just needed someone to talk to. Someone to hold him without any expectations of him.’

Rebecca reeled inwardly as Jasmine’s words sliced through her like the cold steel of a knife.

‘He’s pissed off with the charade, Rebecca,’ Jasmine snapped accusingly, driving her daggers further home. ‘Pretending to be superman. He’s not! He’s human and hurting, just like the rest of us!’

‘You utter cow,’ Ashley seethed. ‘I’ve had enough of this.’ She leaned past Rebecca, about to end the call.

Rebecca stopped her. ‘Did he drive?’ she asked, blocking Ashley with her arm.

‘I told him not to.’ Jasmine’s tone was less hostile. ‘I was concerned about him. I told him to get a taxi home. I even offered him the money, in case he didn’t have the fare, but …’ she stopped, glancing away again.

‘But what?’ Rebecca asked, her voice strained, her heart physically breaking.

‘He said he wasn’t going home.’ Jasmine delivered the final stomach-wrenching blow. ‘I think he was disappointed that he … we didn’t … you know.’

‘I don’t believe you’re doing this,’ Ashley uttered, her astonished gaze on Rebecca. ‘Why are you listening to her?’

Watching Ashley end the call, Becky swallowed back a hard lump of emotion. ‘Because I have to,’ she said, desperately trying to hold onto a sense of reality. Her reality. The Matthew she knew. ‘I have no choice if I want to get to the truth.’

‘Yeah, well, that isn’t it!’ Ashley assured her, shoving her chair back under her desk so hard, the officers downstairs couldn’t fail to have heard it.

Rebecca closed her eyes. ‘I know,’ she said quietly. The girl was a liar, she was sure of it. She’d watched her carefully, recalling what Matthew had once told her about criminal profiling. If a suspect looked up and to the left, he’d said, they’re likely to be activating the creative sensors of the brain, constructing an image to fit their version of events, meaning they’re possibly lying. All the other signs had been there, the blushing, the fiddling with her hair. She might just have been nervous, being questioned by the woman whose husband she’d had designs on – and Jasmine had certainly communicated she had designs on Matthew.

She hadn’t had an affair with him. Rebecca tried to still the rapid rat-a-tat of her heart. She hadn’t! She would have known! Willing the tears back, she looked up to the ceiling. The things she’d said, though, the things that Matthew had supposedly told her, one in particular: how he’d held Lily in his arms, how the medics had had to prise her from him, Matthew had never, ever spoken about that. He found it far too painful. Yet, Jasmine knew. How would she, unless Matthew had told her?