Chapter Seventeen

Matthew circumnavigated the interview room yet again. What the hell was Davies doing? He’d been gone for well over an hour. Matthew needed to know what these ‘developments’ were. Now.

‘Can’t you go and find out what’s going on?’ He turned to Anderson, frustrated beyond endurance.

‘We’ll find out soon enough,’ Anderson imparted, his attention still on the thumbnail he was picking at, which was bloody annoying.

Matthew eyed him despairingly, then, ‘Stuff this,’ he muttered and headed for the door.

Anderson got fast to his feet. ‘Uh-uh, not a good idea.’

He was enjoying this, the prat. Cursing, Matthew turned away and then swiftly back as the door opened behind him.

‘We have some news of the girl, Jasmine,’ Davies said as soon as he entered, his expression marginally hopeful as he looked at Matthew. ‘A security tape has come to light, though I’m not overly pleased at how it did.’

‘And?’ Almost ready to implode, Matthew urged him on.

‘It could be something. I’m breaking with protocol here, Matthew, but I’m going to let your former DS explain.’

Matthew looked at Davies, confused, and then to the door as someone knocked on it.

‘Enter,’ Davies called, but Steve was already halfway in.

‘All right, boss?’ he asked, nodding in Matthew’s direction.

Matthew eyed him quizzically. ‘Never better.’

‘We have her on CCTV, Jasmine Francis, alive and well,’ Steve announced, taking Matthew completely by surprise. ‘At least we’re pretty sure it’s her. No facial recognition yet, but we’re checking with the college database.’

Overwhelming relief flooding through him, Matthew allowed himself to breathe out. ‘So are you going to bring her in?’ He turned to Davies, sure now that they’d take his statement seriously enough to question her.

‘Doesn’t look like that’s going to be possible, I’m afraid.’ Sighing, Davies perched himself on the edge of the table.

What? Matthew stared at him, astounded. ‘You have to be kidding? You can’t seriously believe her “disappearance” wasn’t as contrived as the rest of her story? Bloody hell, John, do you honestly think I’m capable of rape? Of murder?’

‘Mine is not to judge, Matthew,’ Davies reminded him. ‘Mine is to establish the—’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake!’ Matthew ran his hand furiously through his hair. ‘Save me the protocol crap.’

Davies eyed him disapprovingly. ‘In order to bring her in, Matthew, we have to be able to locate her,’ he countered impassively. ‘As yet, we can’t.’

‘Looks like she doesn’t want to be found,’ Steve picked up.

‘Because she’s lying through her teeth!’ Matthew seethed. ‘She’s involved in all of this. Which bit don’t you get, Davies?’ He turned furiously on him. ‘The part where she drugged me? The false allegations? The fact that she obviously hired Natalie in the first place, which means that she had a hand in her murder? What?’

‘Watch the temper, Adams,’ Davies warned him. ‘It won’t really help your case, will it?’

‘Unbelievable.’ Shaking his head, Matthew laughed bitterly and turned away.

‘It seems she’s changed her appearance,’ Steve went on behind him. ‘Cut and dyed her hair, or else she either is, or was, wearing a wig. My bet’s on the latter, as Ashley saw her go into the—’

‘Ashley?’ Matthew turned back fast. ‘Okay, slow down. Ashley saw her?’ He narrowed his eyes in Steve’s direction.

‘Going into a supermarket. The supermarket toilet, to be precise,’ Steve supplied. ‘She went in long blonde and came out cropped brunette. She’d also changed her clothes.’

Feeling utterly confused, Matthew looked back at Davies. ‘And you can’t find her?’

Davies shook his head regretfully. ‘She still hasn’t been to her apartment. No cash withdrawals. We have everyone available on it, but nothing yet.’

Matthew kneaded his forehead, now totally frustrated. ‘Great!’

‘Being a detective, however …’ Steve started.

‘Ex,’ Davies reminded him pointedly.

‘Ex,’ Steve amended sheepishly. ‘I ran the car registration …’

Matthew’s gaze snapped back to his. ‘You got an address?’ he asked, disbelieving.

Steve nodded. ‘Tony Hayes,’ he supplied, scanning Matthew’s face warily.

‘Tony Hayes? The Tony Hayes?’ Matthew asked, thunderstruck. Christ, he’d been standing right in front of the bastard. He’d known there had to be some sort of a link, that Hayes was the obvious one. Why the hell hadn’t he pursued it further?

‘One and the same,’ Steve clarified. ‘The car she was driving is registered in his name.’

‘Meaning what, exactly?’ Anderson asked, sounding not very impressed.

‘Meaning she has associations with the man Sullivan had been running scared of,’ Steve reminded him, glancing at Anderson with as much contempt as Matthew felt for the man. ‘Hayes had been about to collect Sullivan’s balls as part payment of a substantial drugs debt, if you recall. Money Sullivan owed because a consignment went astray while Matthew had customs under surveillance, thus Sullivan’s warped belief that Matthew was to blame and his attempt to extract money from him, using his family as leverage.’

‘Oh, yeah, right.’ Anderson nodded, looking only mildly interested.

‘We can’t see any reason why your family might be in danger, Matthew, but, as a precaution, we’re going to get someone posted outside your house, asap,’ Davies offered.

Matthew hardly heard him above the alarm bells screaming loud in his head. ‘Too little too late,’ he said tightly, his heart dropping like a stone as he realised the monumental mistake he’d made.

If Matthew was being paranoid, Kristen clearly didn’t think he was. ‘You go ahead,’ she said, nodding Ashley and Becky on towards the shopping centre. ‘I’ll wait around for a second and meet you outside Boots.’

She was hanging back in case they’d been followed, Ashley guessed, obviously trying to look out for them. She still wasn’t sure she trusted her though. She got it, kind of, that Kristen’s alcoholism was a disease, that she would have been mentally unstable when she’d walked out on her. The counsellor had explained all that. She’d accepted that Kristen might have believed she was protecting her from herself when she’d abandoned her. That she’d actually cared in there somewhere. Ashley wasn’t sure she could ever trust her to really care though. The long night and day she’d spent in that cold, dank flat had been the loneliest in her life. She squeezed Mia a touch closer as they walked on towards the shopping centre.

You could give her a chance. At least try, said a voice in her head. Not Emily. Someone she’d heard once before who seemed to be more optimistic than Emily. But how did you ‘try’ to trust someone, Ashley wondered? Either you did or you didn’t. Trust had to be complete, didn’t it?

‘You and Kristen seem to be getting on,’ Becky commented as Ashley pondered.

Scraping her hair from her face, Ashley glanced back towards Kristen’s car. Whatever Kristen had done in the past, she was here now, she supposed, sober and seemingly reliable. Ashley had to admit she was grateful for that. She doubted they’d be bonding or going clothes shopping anytime soon, but …

‘Yeah, she’s okay,’ she said, with a non-committal shrug.

‘Mia walk,’ Mia insisted, stretching a hand towards the revolving doors into the centre.

Meaning she wanted to ‘ride’ in them, Ashley guessed, rather than be carried through. ‘In a minute, munchkin,’ she promised, glancing again over her shoulder. Kristen was looking around vigilantly, clearly determined to do what Matthew had entrusted her to. She obviously cared for him, that much was apparent. And he cared for her, Ashley knew. He’d never given up on her, had he?

‘Will you see her, do you think?’ Becky asked. ‘In future, I mean.’

‘Not sure. Depends.’ Ashley shrugged again, uncertainly. ‘Matthew seems to have faith in her.’

‘Yes, but you need to make up your own mind, Ashley. Don’t do something because you feel obliged to, but because you want to.’ Becky reminded her of one of the things she’d worked through in counselling, to have faith in herself and her decisions.

Ashley nodded thoughtfully. ‘Would you mind if I did see her?’ She glanced questioningly at her. Becky had been more of a mother than Kristen ever had, that was for sure. She’d advise her, but Ashley didn’t think she’d try to influence her without good reason.

Becky thought about it. ‘Honestly? I thought I would,’ she admitted. ‘My over-protective gene coming out, I think. But if she genuinely cares – and she does seem to.’

‘Yeah, maybe.’ Ashley sighed. She wanted to give Kristen a chance, but could she allow herself to care about Kristen was the question. ‘Like I said, though, depends,’ she said, lowering a now jiggling Mia to the ground and catching hold of her hand, as Becky pushed through the doors ahead of them.

‘Mummy buy CBeebies,’ Mia said, toddling happily alongside her. For now, at least. It wouldn’t be long before she wanted ‘upsies’, Ashley guessed. ‘And choclit,’ Mia added, with a determined little nod.

‘Anything else madam requires?’ Ashley asked plummily as she stepped into the revolving section directly behind Becky. She smiled down at Mia, and then scowled as she found herself lurching forwards, thanks to some idiot pushing in behind her.

Pissed, seriously, Ashley half-turned, ready to tell whoever it was to learn some manners, and found herself shoved again, ferociously this time. ‘Mia!’ she shouted, feeling her tiny hand slip from her own, as she stumbled to land heavily on her knees.

‘Mia!’ she shouted desperately again, scrambling to her feet. Oh shit, no. ‘Mia!’ Seeing Mia snatched backwards, the doors revolving onwards blocking her following, Ashley’s stomach turned over. Spewing through the doors shopping centre side, she turned frantically back, watching horrified as the person who’d grasped Mia’s hand, a female in a dark hoodie, hastily gathered her up in her arms. She was turning away! She was turning away from the centre. ‘Mia!’ Panic sliced through Ashley like a knife as the girl glanced briefly across the car park ahead of her, and then fled.

‘Mia!’ Becky screamed hysterically behind Ashley. ‘Stop her! My baby!’

‘Are you all right, dear?’ someone asked, seeing Becky’s distress.

Someone else bobbed in front of Ashley, quickly followed by other people, crowding them and making it almost impossible to see. ‘Move!’ Desperately Ashley shoved her way past them, shooting towards the side doors, colliding with shoppers coming in. ‘For God’s sake, get out of my way!’

‘Kristen!’ Ashley yelled once on the outside, stopping Kristen, who was heading towards them, in her tracks. ‘She has Mia!’ She pointed to a car the girl disappeared into, its engine revving. It wasn’t in a car parking space. It was waiting. Oh God, no. Ashley flew towards it. Blinded by hot tears, she swiped at her face and willed herself on. Please, someone stop them.

Closer than she was, Kristen sprinted towards the car as if chased by the devil. She was almost on it when the car pulled off. Grinding to a halt, Ashley saw it as if in slow motion. Felt it, like a low blow to the stomach. Her heart twisting violently inside her, she heard the impact, dull, metallic, gut-wrenching.

No clue where his family was, Matthew agitatedly paced the room, fighting and failing to stay calm. Taking short breaths, he tried to ward off the infuriating cough indicating an imminent asthma attack, which would render him utterly useless.

Steve walked across to him, as he stopped and studied the ceiling. ‘We’ll find them. They can’t have gone too far yet,’ he attempted to reassure him, placing a hand clumsily on Matthew’s shoulder. ‘Have you got your meds?’

Matthew nodded and then shook his head. Still in a state of shock on hearing mention of a feasible link to Sullivan, he didn’t seem capable of any coherent thought, bar one: that he might well have put his family in more danger than they’d have been in if they’d stayed.

‘Matthew?’ Steve tried again, clearly hearing the distinct wheeze in his chest. ‘Where’s your inhaler, mate?’

Matthew almost laughed. It wasn’t likely to be in his pocket, was it, since he was wearing ‘suitable alternative clothing’ to his own. Every possession he had taken from his person. He simply could not get his head around it, how he came to be sitting here, questioned, cross questioned, poked and prodded, accused. Plainly not believed. Even with doubt cast on the validity of Jasmine’s claims, even with the link to Sullivan, he was still the prime suspect. Not happening. He couldn’t do this, just sit here, doing nothing.

Dragging his hands up over his face, Matthew moved suddenly, causing Steve to step back. ‘I need to get out,’ he said, heading past him towards the door.

Davies, on the other side of the room, making yet another completely bloody useless call, pulled his phone away from his ear. ‘Not possible, Matthew,’ he said, stepping in front of him. ‘Sorry.’

‘Sorry?’ Shaking his head disbelievingly, Matthew looked him over, noting the man’s expression, concerned yet uncompromising, one he’d seen so many times before, each and every time he’d begged him to acknowledge that Sullivan was a threat to his family and do something about the bastard. He’d killed his daughter, for Christ’s sake. Sucking in a ragged breath, Matthew tried hard to still the immediate flashback, his baby, the pleading in her eyes, her blood seeping into his clothes as he’d cradled her, tried desperately to hold onto her. Davies had known. He’d known Sullivan was the murdering piece of scum who’d engineered the accident, and he’d done nothing, because he’d had no evidence.

And now, it seemed Davies was determined to do it all over again, to wait until he had irrefutable proof that his wife and kids might be at the mercy of some sick animal. No way! ‘I. Need. To. Go,’ Matthew reiterated furiously.

Exhaling impatiently, Davies stood his ground. ‘A girl has been murdered, Matthew,’ he pointed out as if Matthew didn’t know this. ‘There’s still overwhelming evidence that places you at the scene. I can’t just let you—’

‘Charge me, or get out of my way,’ Matthew grated, his jaw tightening.

Searching his eyes, a degree of compassion in his own, Davies shook his head sadly. ‘Sit down, Matthew,’ he said, turning away, ostensibly to pick up his papers. ‘We’ve got every available body on it. There’s nothing you can do. Certainly nothing I can condone. Just sit down and try to stay calm.’

Calm? Matthew stared incredulously after him, as Davies headed for the door. ‘I do not want to bloody well sit down!’ he shouted, his anger mounting dangerously inside him.

Steve was in front of him then, obviously also thinking it was perfectly reasonable to be requested to stay calm while who knew what might be happening to his family. ‘Better do as he says, Matt,’ he advised him sympathetically. Then turned to Anderson, who seemed oblivious or couldn’t-care-less as he sat, still picking at his thumbnail. ‘Can’t you get his bloody asthma meds?’ Steve asked him. ‘Instead of sitting there like a spare dick at a wedding?’

Matthew watched, utterly disbelieving, as Anderson got to his feet with absolutely no sense of urgency, as Davies left the room, now wittering into his phone about motorway surveillance, as if that could do any good. Had he even despatched anyone to bring Hayes in yet? Was he doing anything?

Clearly, he wasn’t. Matthew’s heart sank to a whole new level. Which meant that his staying here was not an option. He needed to get to Hayes. Find out what he knew. He needed to do it now. A distinct wheeze rattling his chest, Matthew turned to Steve. ‘Move, Steve,’ he asked him, eyeing him levelly.

‘Look, Matt, we’ll find them,’ Steve tried. ‘We’ve got eyes on the motorways. We—’

‘She’s not on the fucking motorways!’ Matthew yelled, his rage spilling over. ‘For Christ’s sake, Steve, we can’t even contact them by phone!’ Oh, for … This was useless. ‘I need to go,’ he said, pushing past him.

‘Uh, uh.’ Anderson, who’d paused at the door to watch proceedings, no doubt for kicks, stepped back into the room. ‘You need to stay rational, mate,’ he said, approaching Matthew. ‘You know the score. You can sit and wait here, or you can have a nice comfy cell. Either way, you’re going nowhere.’

With which, he took hold of Matthew’s arm and attempted to manhandle him towards the seat. That did it. Blind anger and impotent frustration driving him, Matthew shoved the man back hard.

Caught off guard, Anderson stumbled, crashing heavily backwards into the wall behind him. ‘You prat,’ he growled, shaking his head and heaving himself upright.

Matthew clenched his fist at his side, itching to punch the bastard’s lights out as Anderson advanced on him. ‘Don’t,’ he warned him.

‘And who’s going to stop me? You?’ Obviously hearing the now almost debilitating rattle in Matthew’s chest, Anderson mocked contemptuously. ‘Finally lost it, haven’t we, Adams, hey? Only a matter of time, wasn’t it?’

‘Oi, pack it in!’ Steve stepped between them. ‘Grow up, mate, will you?’ he said, eyeballing Anderson angrily, and then turning to assist Matthew, whose laboured breaths were fast turning to audible gasps.

‘He’s a bloody liability,’ Anderson muttered, leaning past Steve to shove Matthew hard in the shoulder.

‘Leave it out!’ Steve yelled, locking his arms about Matthew, forcing him bodily away from Anderson, as he attempted to retaliate.

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake. You almost got killed because of him, Ingram!’ Anderson blustered behind him. ‘Have you forgot, or what? The man thinks he’s a law unto himself. He’s a complete nutter, trying to convince everyone there’s a freaking ghost fitting him up. He’s off the bloody wall! Ought to have been kicked off the force ages—’

‘Just back off!’ Steve shouted, now physically trying to support Matthew, who was groping for the wall behind him. ‘Can’t you see the man’s in trouble?’

‘Oh, he’s definitely that,’ Anderson sneered, wiping an arm across his mouth, as Matthew slithered to his haunches. ‘In it up to his neck. And he thinks he can just stroll out of here? What’s he going to do then? Some bleeding Bruce Willis he is, ain’t he? Ask me, the bloke’s a complete waste of—’

‘Have we finished?’ DCI Davies asked behind him.

Paling, Anderson shot around to face him. ‘He was trying to leave, sir,’ he imparted quickly. ‘I had to use force to try to restrain—’

‘Out!’ Davies ordered him.

Anderson hesitated for a second, then, noting the livid look in Davies’ eye, stepped past him and walked apprehensively towards the door.

‘Bloody idiot,’ Davies threw after him. ‘Here,’ he said, removing the cap and handing Steve the inhaler.

‘About time,’ Steve muttered, crouching to offer it to Matthew. ‘Here you go. Two sharp puffs and all that crap, and then do us a favour, mate, and breathe, will you?’

Feeling the Ventolin hit the back of his throat, Matthew sucked the life-giving medication into his lungs.

‘Better?’ Steve asked him worriedly, after a second.

Waiting for the rasp in his chest to abate, Matthew nodded, then, taking another shot, he waited again while his breathing slowed, becoming deeper, slower, normal. ‘Thanks,’ he managed hoarsely, glancing gratefully at Steve.

‘No problem, mate. Need you fit and well to help me with that barn conversion I’m doing, don’t I?’

Matthew smiled weakly and allowed Steve to help him to his feet. He couldn’t quite meet his DCI’s gaze when he stood, more out of disillusionment than embarrassment at not having admitted how bad his asthma could be.

‘Might be an idea to use your preventer more regularly, Adams,’ DCI Davies suggested, with a short smile. ‘I thought you’d like to know, we’ve ordered you a repeat prescription of both inhalers. Oh, and we have Hayes in custody. Drugs bust,’ he added matter-of-factly as he turned on his heel. ‘I’ll get you some tea. Meanwhile, I’d give yourself a break and sit down if I were you.’