Chapter Eighteen

‘Anything?’ Matthew asked DS Collins as she came into the DCI’s office. He’d been given a decent change of clothing and allowed the luxury of waiting in there at least, though Davies had shown no indication he was going to let him go beyond the station door. Matthew understood why, but would never come to terms with the irony. Sullivan had been as guilty as sin, Davies had known it, and they’d let him walk. Matthew was innocent, yet it seemed he was already condemned. The system was flawed, fundamentally. He should have damn well got out.

Glancing at him sympathetically, Jamie shook her head. ‘Nothing on your family yet. Sorry, Matt. We’ll let you know as soon as anyone calls. There is a bit of good news, though.’

‘Just a bit?’ Kneading his aching neck, Matthew looked up guardedly.

‘We haven’t been able to establish the authenticity of the sex tape,’ Jamie said, not looking at him as she walked across to drop some papers on the desk. ‘I mean you’re obviously in it. Not a bad physique either, if you don’t mind me saying.’ She did look at him then, her eyes gliding amusedly over him. ‘That secretary who’s got the hots for you is well disappointed we don’t have any full frontals.’

‘Yeah, yeah, okay, Jamie, hilarious I am sure. The good news?’ Matthew asked, not daring to hope it would be good enough to get him out of here and where he should be, doing something other than climbing the walls.

‘The shots are not all of you,’ Jamie finally informed him. ‘Looks like you might have used a body double, one who doesn’t have a scar from a knife wound on the back of his right hand.’

Stunned, Matthew simply stared at her.

‘You’ve got Steve to thank for that, incidentally. He’s like a dog with a bone, I swear. You know he’s been on to Crime Prevention, as well?’

‘No.’ Matthew shook his head.

‘Yup. They’ve confirmed you called when you said you did. Tracked down the locksmith you rang. His wife confirms she heard some kind of crash while you were talking to her.’ Jamie furrowed her brow. ‘Not sure that bit helps much, but …’

Matthew ran his hands up over his face. ‘It helps, believe me,’ he said shakily.

‘Shame Steve’s not still on the force,’ Jamie went on conversationally. ‘He’s wasted out …’ Trailing off, she coughed embarrassedly, obviously having remembered why Steve was off the force. ‘Anyway, I just thought you should know. It’s not much, but it’s something.’

‘Definitely.’ Matthew sighed, immensely relieved. ‘Thanks, Jamie,’ he said appreciatively.

‘My pleasure.’ Jamie turned back to the door. ‘Word of advice, if I may? I wouldn’t venture into the stationery cupboard alone with the in lust secretary now she’s caught a glimpse of you in all your naked gorgeousness, if I were you.’ Giving him a saucy wink over her shoulder, she headed swiftly onwards. ‘Oh, and the drinks are on you when you get out.’

‘You’re on,’ Matthew called after her. If he got out, of course. Mulling it over, he walked again around the office. It actually might not be much. The information regarding the authenticity of the tape might even point to him having more reason to go after Natalie. It was something though. Enough to convince Davies and those at major homicide to work on the assumption he was innocent until proven, rather than the other way around? Matthew bloody hoped so.

His contemplation was cut short as Davies came into the office. ‘Matthew,’ he began, smiling that short smile of his, ‘I have news, of sorts.’

Matthew’s gaze shot warily to his. ‘Becky?’

Davies shook his head. ‘Not Becky, no. We’re doing all we can on that front, though. I’m sure she’ll be in touch soon. Sit down, Matthew, would you?’

Matthew looked at him bemusedly. Why the hell did he keep telling him to sit down? What? Was he thinking that if he did do a runner, he had a head start standing? Reluctantly, he did as bid, taking the guest chair as Davies walked around to seat himself at his desk.

‘We’ve spoken to Tony Hayes,’ Davies informed him. ‘He claims not to know Jasmine, says he’s never heard of her.’

Matthew looked at him, incredulous. ‘And you believe him?’

‘I have no idea what to believe at the moment, to be honest.’ Davies leaned tiredly back in his chair and loosened his tie. ‘The thing is, he’s not being very forthcoming.’

‘Claiming his right to silence.’ Matthew closed his eyes, the small hope he did have dwindling.

Davies nodded despondently. ‘Calling for his brief as we speak.’

Cursing, Matthew dragged a hand over his neck and got to his feet.

‘I would have tried to stall,’ Davies assured him as Matthew walked towards the door, wondering whether he should just bloody well keep walking. ‘Unfortunately, it seems Hayes’ situation is more complicated than was first indicated.’

Matthew laughed sarcastically. ‘His situation’s complicated?’

‘The drugs bust was as a result of a tip off,’ Davies went on. ‘Hayes, it seems, had discovered the hidden stash just prior to our arrival.’

Matthew turned back, not sure how relevant this was, or whether he was actually interested. ‘And?’

‘Hayes wasn’t happy. The bartender whose bar the stash was hidden behind less so.’ Davies eyed him jadedly. ‘It’s doubtful he’ll be pulling many pints in future, let’s put it that way.’

Getting the drift, Matthew nodded, feeling for the man, but … ‘Meanwhile, I’m still detained?’ He looked Davies over questioningly. ‘And my family is still out there without protection.’

Davies nodded. Reluctantly, Matthew noted. It didn’t help. ‘We are working on all leads, but I can’t make this go any quicker, Matthew,’ he said, with a world-weary sigh. ‘As much as I’d like to throw the book out of the window, I—’

Davies was cut short as Collins dashed back into the room, knocking cursorily on the door as she did. ‘Sorry, sir,’ she said quickly, before Davies vented his wrath. ‘Urgent phone call for Matthew.’

Exchanging brief glances with Davies, who immediately nodded his permission, Matthew shot out of the room, heading fast for the outer office, where various co-workers guardedly met his gaze.

‘Here!’ Anderson called, waving a phone in his direction.

And looking less hostile, Matthew noticed, as he reached him. Almost apologetic, in fact. That was a first. Eyeing him curiously, Matthew grabbed the receiver and nodded his thanks.

He didn’t register who it was, at first. Not Kristen. ‘Ashley?’ he said, then, ‘Whoa, slow down,’ as she continued to talk, frantically. Hysterically almost. Matthew felt a cold chill travel the length of his spine.

‘She’s gone!’ Ashley blurted tearfully.

What? Matthew’s blood froze in his veins as the last two words he’d wanted to hear, ever, permeated his brain. ‘Who’s gone, Ashley?’ he asked tautly, desperately needing her to make sense. ‘Just slow down and—’

Ashley obviously wasn’t hearing him. ‘The police are here and they’ve taken Kristen to the hospital,’ she gabbled on without pausing for breath. ‘She tried to stop them and the car ran into her. I don’t know how bad it is. They’re taking Becky too. I have to go with her. Matthew, you need to make them do something. She’s been gone ages and they’re—’

‘Ashley! Stop!’ Gripping the phone hard, Matthew shouted. ‘Who’s gone?’

‘Mia!’ Ashley cried, confirming his worst fear. ‘Someone’s taken her. She’s …’ She trailed off on a sob.

‘Mia?’ Matthew felt the walls close in on him, sucking the breath from his body. ‘Jesus Christ, no.’

Ashley continued to cry, as Matthew physically reeled from the impact. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, and then said it over.

Unable to articulate past the hard knot in his throat, Matthew simply nodded. ‘Where are you?’ he managed hoarsely, after a second, trying desperately to see through the suffocating red fog in his head.

Ashley didn’t answer, sobbing wretchedly instead. ‘It’s my fault! I had her hand. Someone pushed me and … I let go! I let go of her hand!’

Taking deep breaths, attempting to stay upright when he now badly needed to sit down, Matthew tried to focus. ‘Where are you, Ashley?’ he asked her tightly again.

‘Shopping centre,’ Ashley supplied, in between heart-wrenching sobs.

‘Okay.’ Matthew cautioned himself to temper his tone. She needed him to be rational, functional, to absolutely not appear to be laying blame at her feet. He needed to stay in control, to suppress the urge to drop where he stood, and somehow establish the facts. ‘And Becky’s there with you?’ he asked, needing that clarification first and foremost. ‘Just answer yes or no, Ashley,’ he urged her gently, when she didn’t speak. ‘Can you do that for me?’

‘Yes. Yes, she is,’ Ashley replied haltingly.

‘And they’re taking her to the hospital?’

‘Yes.’

‘But she’s not hurt?’ Matthew closed his eyes and prayed hard.

‘No,’ Ashley assured him quickly. ‘Shocked, but not hurt.’

‘Good. Okay.’ Squeezing the bridge of his nose hard between his thumb and forefinger, Matthew swallowed hard and nodded. ‘And Kristen’s already left in an ambulance, you say?’ He hesitated, and then, ‘Was she conscious?’

‘Not at first,’ Ashley faltered, and sniffed, ‘but she was when they left.’

‘Right. Okay.’ Matthew breathed out, relieved on some level. ‘That’s good. You’re doing fine, Ashley. The police are with you, yes?’

‘Yes,’ Ashley confirmed.

So why the fuck was he only hearing this now? ‘Okay. Ashley, I know this is hard for you, but I need you to try to hold it together for me,’ Matthew continued to speak gently but firmly. ‘Can you do that?’

Ashley paused before answering, then, ‘I’ll try,’ she answered, still sounding so anguished it cut Matthew to the core.

‘That’s my girl,’ Matthew said, his voice cracking. ‘Go with Becky, okay? She’ll need you there with her. I’ll find out which hospital and get there soon.’

‘Promise?’ Ashley asked, now sounding like a frightened five-year-old.

Matthew glanced at the ceiling, trying very hard to hold back his tears. ‘I promise,’ he said, gruffly. Gulping back the constriction in his throat, he replaced the receiver and stared at it. He took a second, trying to curtail the rage burning inside him, the terror slicing through him, the pain: too much to bear. Dragging a hand across his eyes, he glanced again at the ceiling and took several long breaths.

‘She has asthma,’ he said quietly, eventually. ‘Mia, she has asthma,’ he repeated it, turning around to meet the stunned gazes of his colleagues, his DCI’s gaze most stunned of all.

Anderson stepped forwards. ‘Sit down, mate,’ he said, his tone sympathetic as he moved towards him.

‘Don’t!’ Struggling to keep a rein on his emotions, Matthew raised his hands, cautioning the man to back off. ‘Just … don’t, okay?’

Hovering uncertainly, Anderson looked him worriedly over and then nodded and stayed put. No one else moved, not a hair. It was as if they were all suspended in time. Time that his baby girl might not have.

Panic twisting his gut like a vice, Matthew turned unsteadily towards Davies. ‘I’m leaving,’ he stated firmly.

Looking as if he’d been hit by a thunderbolt, Davies didn’t speak for a second, then, ‘Collins, get a car out front, now! Anderson, get hold of the officers at the scene, find out the state of play and ask them why the bloody hell we weren’t informed!’

Matthew headed to the security door into reception. And then slammed his hand against it, cursing volubly, when it refused to open immediately.

Five minutes later, he was out front. They were still there, bloodsucking photographers everywhere, waiting for the next headline. One journalist way too in his face, Matthew was sorely tempted to give them one. Davies, though, wasn’t about to let him. ‘Keep calm,’ he cautioned him, taking hold of his arm and escorting him to the car. ‘You need to this time, Matthew,’ he added, glancing sideways at him. ‘Trust me, your wife is going to need you to be.’

Cameras clicking, journalists firing loaded questions crowding the car, Matthew finally managed to squeeze himself into the back seat. ‘I’ll keep you posted on any developments,’ Davies said, leaning in, as an officer climbed in the other side. ‘Don’t do anything rash, Matthew. You need to hold it together. Stay on the radar, understand?’

Matthew glanced bewilderedly up at him. Do ‘anything rash’ like what exactly, he wondered hopelessly? There was nothing he could do. Not a damn thing, until the call came, which it undoubtedly would. Christ, Matthew hoped it would. Prayed that this was a planned kidnapping and not a random child abduction. Matthew hadn’t dared allow his mind to go down that dark road yet. Fighting back the nausea now sweeping through him, he closed his eyes and nodded.

‘We’ll get her back, Matthew,’ Davies promised, a hollow promise. Davies knew as well as Matthew did that if this turned out to be the latter scenario, then the chances of getting her back were nil. The former? Even then, if he did everything that was asked of him, delivered whatever was wanted, there was still a high probability he would never see his daughter again. Clamping hard down on that thought, the image of Lily lying broken and helpless, which was always on the periphery of his mind, Matthew swallowed back the ice-cold fear that was now threatening to choke him.

‘Go!’ Davies instructed the driver, closing the door and banging on the roof. His expression had been bleak, Matthew had noted, compassionate but bleak, which had pretty much summed up the man’s thinking.