Chapter Ten

‘All right?’ Steve asked quietly, easing through the front door as DS Collins opened it, and then promptly closed it again, when several cameras clicked outside. He was trying to be low key since he wasn’t on the force any more, Ashley guessed, peering over the bannister. He’d struggle a bit, though, with his height and bulk. The man was built like a bear.

A cuddly one, though, Emily, ever present in her head, observed. He’s dead soft.

Yeah, he’s all right, Ashley answered her silently, aware of Mia happily finger painting at her dressing table, unfortunately with a gloopy concoction of caramel ice cream Ashley had given her to placate her, and eye shadow – hers. Ashley wasn’t going to get upset about the mess, though, as long as it kept Mia from being stressed out.

Glancing quickly up the hall, Jamie turned worriedly back to Steve. ‘What are you doing here?’ she whispered.

Steve gave her an arch look. ‘I’m his mate, Jamie. Becky’s, too. Where else would I be when they’re in trouble?’

‘Have you been in touch with him?’ Jamie asked, her gaze darting again towards the lounge where DCI Davies was still talking to Becky.

Steve hesitated. ‘Officially or unofficially?’ he asked her guardedly.

At which, Jamie looked offended. ‘I’m his mate, too, you know, Steve?’ she pointed out. ‘Do you think I’d be jeopardising my job accessing information for you if I didn’t give a stuff?’

Nodding, Steve conceded her point. ‘I saw him,’ he said, keeping his voice low. ‘Or rather, scraped what was left of him off the pavement after four upstanding citizens had kicked the crap out of him.’

‘What?’ Jamie stared at him, shocked. ‘Why?’

‘He went to have a quiet word with that Connor bloke,’ Steve supplied. ‘The guy on the video tape from the wedding reception. Aggressive little runt, if ever I saw one. Connor tried to leg it, apparently. According to his mates, he had no idea Matthew was the law.’

Bullshit! Ashley thought. What, was he claiming he didn’t meet Matthew at the reception? That he had no idea he was a policeman? Absolute crap.

‘Matthew gave chase,’ Steve went on, ‘and his mates dutifully decided to try and make a citizen’s arrest. If I hadn’t arrived when I did they’d probably have killed him.’

Jamie shook her head disbelievingly and then eyed the ceiling. ‘Twats,’ she growled furiously.

‘Definitely,’ Steve agreed. ‘Might have been a fair fight if they hadn’t waded in. This Connor bloke’s about the same height and weight as Matthew. I doubt he’d have come to much harm.’

He is, too, Emily piped up.

Shush. Ashley furrowed her brow and inched along the landing, crouching down to where she could get a better view. Eavesdropping was her only option as no one seemed to be telling her anything, like they needed to wrap her in cotton wool or something after the kidnapping shit. She was like, hello, I’m not a kid, I can cope. Still, they were all walking around tight-lipped, as if their faces didn’t give away that something really bad was going down. She so wished she could talk to Matthew, if only to tell him they were here for him. Well, she was, whatever happened.

‘How’s Becky doing?’ Steve nodded towards the lounge.

Jamie’s gaze flicked in that direction and then back to him. ‘All right, I think,’ she said, looking uncertain. ‘She’s made of strong stuff that one. I think I would have cracked up if I’d been through half what she has, and that’s without being told Matthew’s about to be arrested. I have no idea how she’ll cope with—’

‘What? Wait.’ Staring at her, astonished, Steve held up a hand. ‘Arrested?’

‘DCI Davies is telling her now.’ Jamie scanned his face apprehensively. ‘The courts are about to issue a warrant.’

Oh no. Her heart plummeting, Ashley sank back on her haunches.

‘Bloody hell! You’re joking,’ Steve gasped, sounding as winded as Ashley felt. ‘What’s the charge?’

Matthew hit the answer call button on his phone. He’d guessed it was Steve calling, he being the only one he’d texted his number to, but whoever it was, it really didn’t matter any more. He could hear one of the heavies throwing up in the bathroom, feel his own stomach constricting, sense the walls closing in on him.

‘Matt?’ Steve asked, when he didn’t immediately speak.

Matthew ran a hand over his neck, tried to regulate his breathing. ‘Yes,’ he managed, eventually.

‘You need to come in, mate.’ Steve sounded worried.

Attempting to force back the irritating cough tickling its way up his windpipe, Matthew swallowed hard. It was always the same, the smell, he thought obliquely. More pungent depending on the amount of decay, but the same: decomposition, body fluids.

‘Matt, are you there?’

‘Yep,’ Matthew answered shortly, wondering how long it would take for this to hit him fully, before he felt something other than utter hopelessness.

‘They’ve taken blood swabs, Matt,’ Steve went on hesitantly, ‘from the hotel room. They have a match. You have to come in. If you don’t, you’re as good as guilty.’

It wouldn’t have taken them long. They would have checked her medical records, Matthew surmised, made the match in minutes. He nodded, concentrated on his breathing. Still didn’t feel anything very much.

‘It’s Natalie’s,’ Steve’s voice was tight, as if he was struggling to keep the emotion in check. ‘She’s been reported missing.’ He paused, clearly searching for a way to say what Matthew knew was coming next. ‘It’s a murder investigation, Matt. Official. You need to—’

‘I know,’ Matthew said quietly, cutting him short.

‘Know what, Matt?’ Steve asked, his tone now careful.

‘She’s here,’ Matthew answered, feeling disconnected, as if he was viewing this whole sordid mess from some faraway place. Christ, how he wished he was.

‘What? Matthew, what the hell are you talking—?’

‘I’m with her now. The deceased. Natalie.’ Matthew faltered, his gaze straying involuntarily to her eyes. Green eyes, he reminded himself, now grey, opaque and empty. Life fucking extinct. Pulling himself from where he’d been crouching over her, he clamped his own eyes tight shut, fury hitting at last, violently, like a sledgehammer to his chest. Breathe, he commanded himself, fumbling for his inhaler.

Steve didn’t speak for a second, stunned, obviously, then, ‘Where?’ he asked warily.

‘Her bedsit. Squad cars are on their way,’ Matthew informed him, still outwardly calm. Inwardly though … Gulping back the sour taste in his mouth, he took in the lifeless, broken body of the girl. Face down, her head twisted to one side, she was unrecognisable, her eyes swollen, her nose and lips split. Right arm, fractured. One shoe missing, replaced with a single red stiletto. Clothes … in brutal disarray. Matthew looked away. It was Sullivan. All over again. MO identical. Matthew felt sick, sick to his soul.

‘Okay, I need you to stay calm.’ His tone quiet but authoritative, Steve switched to police mode.

Instinctively, Matthew guessed. Detaching from the situation in order to deal with it. He didn’t blame him. It was part and parcel of being a copper, a prerequisite of the job. ‘I am,’ he assured him, turning to walk to the window. ‘Perfectly.’

‘Right. Are you there alone?’ Steve didn’t sound convinced. ‘Apart from—’

‘Natalie,’ Matthew supplied the girl’s name, one that would be printed indelibly on his brain, along with these last images of her, all the other images he could never hope to escape. ‘No,’ he said, glancing back towards Jason. Seated on Natalie’s bed, his head buried in his hands, the man was quietly sobbing. He did have feelings then. Matthew was surprised. The guy wasn’t in Sullivan’s league, a bigshot pimping bastard, completely devoid of any emotion remotely human. Jason had hurt her, humiliated her, intimidated her, pumped her full of the drugs she couldn’t function without, pimped her out to any sad bastard who wanted to use her, but he obviously had some kind of conscience in there somewhere.

‘Okay, Matthew, so you know the drill, yes?’ Steve asked him. ‘Stay put. Don’t touch anything.’

Matthew did know the drill. He knew it by heart. He’d be charged. Read his rights. Fingerprinted. Poked, prodded, DNA samples taken. He’d be interviewed, questions asked he couldn’t hope to answer. Analysed. Psych evaluations made. Questioned again. His clothes would be taken. Not the tie, though. His gaze drifted back to Natalie.

‘It’s probably not a good idea to move around too much.’ Now glancing through the rain slashed window to the grey pavement below, Matthew could hear Steve still talking, but he wasn’t really taking it in. ‘You could cross contaminate—’

‘Asphyxiation,’ Matthew said evenly. ‘Ligature to the neck.’ He paused, knowing that the last nail in his coffin had been driven well and truly home. ‘My tie.’

He heard Steve’s shocked intake of breath. ‘Right. Okay,’ he replied shakily. ‘Stay where you are. Don’t touch anything, hey, mate. Please?’

‘It’s tied in a bow. Sullivan, but with frills.’ Matthew laughed, a hollow, humourless laugh.

‘Matt, pack it in.’ Steve sounded scared, but not half as terrified as Matthew felt.

‘Judging by lividity, or lack of, I’d say the body’s been moved,’ he went on, relaying what information he could, trying to stay sane, which was the biggest joke of all because, if he’d had any part to play in this, he was clearly completely insane. ‘From the body temperature and degree of rigor mortis, I’d guess the post mortem interval is about nine, maybe ten hours.’

Steve didn’t speak for a second, then, ‘You need to stay in control, Matt,’ he warned him. ‘Matt? Are you listening?’

‘I have to go now, Steve,’ Matthew said thickly. ‘Look after Becky for me? Will you do that?’

‘Go where?’ Steve asked apprehensively.

‘Not sure.’

‘You need to stay put, Matthew. You can’t—’

‘Steve, I didn’t do this!’ Matthew shouted over him.

‘I know you didn’t! But you have to come in, Matt! You have to trust—’

‘Trust?’ Matthew shook his head incredulously. ‘Trust who, Steve? Davies, who had me down as a psychiatric case? Put me on gardening leave while that bastard kidnapped my wife?’

‘Yes!’ Steve tried. ‘What the bloody hell else are you going to—’

‘The system?’

‘Matt—’

‘It’s not going to end here, Steve. You know it’s not!’ Matthew’s attention was caught by distant flashing blue lights. Watching the squad cars, first one, then two cut the traffic lights at the corner, Matthew swallowed hard and headed for the door. ‘I have to go. Promise me, will you? Look after Becky?’

‘Of course I bloody well will, but where are you—’

Matthew ended the call as the squad cars squealed to a stop below.

‘Mia no like the policemens, Mummy. Mia no like!’ Mia screamed as a cacophony of phones seemed to ring all at once, including the landline.

‘It’s all right, darling. They’re just trying to find Daddy.’ With a desperate edge to her voice Rebecca tried to reassure her, and then almost laughed at the absurdity of what she’d just said. Trying to find Daddy so they can arrest him? This could not be happening. Please don’t let this be happening.

Confused and terrified, and trying hard to hide it, she looked towards Ashley, who came in with tea for her, as if tea could make anything better.

‘I brought some biscuits,’ Ashley said, placing the mug and two digestives on the coffee table. ‘Try and eat something, Becky. You need to keep your strength—’

‘I don’t want to bloody well eat anything!’ Rebecca snapped, and immediately regretted it when Mia, her voice shooting up an octave, screamed, ‘No like Mummy shouting!’

‘I’ll take her.’ Ashley came across to her, as Mia went rigid in Rebecca’s arms, about to set off on the mother of all tantrums.

Rebecca nodded and swallowed, handing her distressed daughter over to the one she’d probably just also distressed. ‘Thanks, Ashley,’ she said, holding her gaze. ‘Sorry,’ she mouthed.

‘What, ’cos you shouted?’ Ashley eyed the ceiling as she gathered Mia to her. ‘I don’t think they’ll be sending social services round yet, Becky. Give yourself a break, yes?’

Wiping a tear from her cheek, Rebecca watched Ashley go, collecting up Mia’s Peppa Pig soft toy from the sofa as she did, and placating Mia with promises of watching her favourite DVD with her big sister in lieu of what should have been a nice normal day at nursery. She was the best big sister she could have wished for her, Rebecca reminded herself of that, though she couldn’t help but be reminded of Lily and all that they’d suffered. Too much. This was all too much.

‘What’s happening?’ she asked DCI Davies, who was standing with his back to her at the window, his mobile pressed to his ear.

He turned towards her, raising a hand in a halt sign. ‘I see,’ he said into his phone, his eyes flicking to Rebecca’s and then down again.

Rebecca waited, pacing uselessly around the room, as he continued to listen, nodding occasionally as he did.

‘I see,’ he said again, what seemed like an eternity later. ‘Right, well, mobilise all available bodies, will you, DC Weaver,’ he added, his tone almost light, as if Rebecca wouldn’t understand, as if she wouldn’t realise the gravity of the situation implied by that order. She was married to one of their own! What was the matter with them?

‘For pity’s sake, what?’ she implored as he finally lowered his phone and looked at her, his face grim.

‘Sit down, Becky, would you?’ DCI Davies requested, obviously about to be the bearer of yet more bad news.

‘I. Don’t. Want. To. Sit. Down!’ Rebecca repeated what she’d already told him and Jamie umpteen times. ‘John, tell me!’

John drew in a long breath, closed his eyes briefly, and nodded again in that interminably annoying way he did. ‘The girl in the video,’ he said, each word like the sharp point of a nail being driven into her heart, ‘her body’s been found, I’m afraid. It’s extremely serious, Becky. You don’t need me to tell you that.’

Becky hardly heard the last sentence. Feeling as if the four walls had slammed into her one by one, her legs almost gave way beneath her.

‘Come on, I’ve got you.’ John was by her side in an instant, supporting her, guiding her back towards the sofa. ‘Jamie! Water, please,’ he instructed as she appeared from the hall. ‘And ask one of the constables to come in, would you? I need a quick word.’

Helping Rebecca to sit down, before she fell down, he seated himself next to her, hesitated for a second and then took one of her hands. ‘You’re cold,’ he said, placing his other hand over hers and trying to rub some warmth into it.

Rebecca doubted she’d ever feel warm again. She felt as if her heart had frozen inside her.

‘I’m so sorry, Becky,’ he said, squeezing her hand now, as if in condolence.

Becky turned to look at him, shocked and bewildered. ‘I don’t want your sympathy, John,’ she said, searching his eyes for some kind of hope that he believed this as much as she did. Whatever else he’d done, Matthew simply wasn’t capable. He must know that. ‘I want you to go out and do your job. You need to prove Matthew’s innocence.’

He held her gaze for a second. Then, drawing in another long breath and sighing heavily, he glanced down. He didn’t believe Matthew was innocent. He truly thought … God, no.

‘The thing is Rebecca, we need to hear Matthew’s side of the story. He’s not exactly helping his own situation …’ John stopped as Jamie came in with the water, glancing at Rebecca in the same hope-crushing sympathetic way John had, as she placed it on the table.

‘Not you, too?’ Rebecca stared at her incredulously. ‘He didn’t do this, Jamie. You know him.’

Jamie looked at her as if she didn’t know what to think. ‘I …’ she started, and then stopped as her mobile rang.

Turning away, Jamie answered it. ‘Shit,’ she uttered, after a pause. ‘There’s been a development, sir,’ she said, turning back and handing the phone to Davies.

‘What development?’ Rebecca got shakily to her feet.

Jamie looked from her to Davies, as he pressed the phone to his ear.

‘Jamie, what bloody development?’ Rebecca shouted.

Jamie and John exchanged worried glances, and then, reluctantly, John nodded his acquiescence. ‘The girl Matthew took home,’ Jamie supplied awkwardly, ‘she’s at the station. She’s claiming Matthew … assaulted her.’

‘Assaulted her?’ Rebecca felt another nail splinter her heart.

‘Sexually,’ Jamie added, her gaze now anywhere but on Rebecca’s.