Chapter Twenty-One

‘Am I free to go now, John?’ Rebecca asked DCI Davies, once he’d finished grilling her about the call Matthew had received. Determinedly, she met his suspicious gaze. Clearly he thought she was withholding information. Did he have any idea how dearly Rebecca wished that she had any information to give him? Would she, though? If she knew where Matthew had gone, would she tell him and risk Mia’s life? Seeing in her mind’s eye her baby’s bewildered face, imagining how terrified she must be, nausea swept through Rebecca yet again, though she’d already retched the dry contents of her stomach until her insides were raw. She would tell him, she realised. She hadn’t thought it through, hadn’t been capable of thinking. Now, though, she knew. Matthew had walked away ready to sacrifice his life for his child. Had he really imagined they would simply let Mia go? If that thing parading as a woman had set out to crush Matthew, inch by inch to destroy everything that was dear to him, what better way to do that than to … Another spasm gripping her stomach, Rebecca clamped hard down on that thought.

DCI Davies searched her eyes, then sighed long and hard. ‘Yes, of course,’ he said, running a hand tiredly over his neck. ‘I’m sorry, Becky,’ he said, reaching awkwardly out to squeeze her arm. ‘We have every available man on it. We’ll—’

‘I know,’ Rebecca stopped him, quashing an urge to tell him if he’d had his manpower where it should have been in the first place, investigating Matthew’s claims, protecting his family, then none of this would have happened. ‘I have to be with Kristen and Ashley,’ she said shortly instead.

His expression apologetic, for what good that could do, DCI Davies nodded. ‘You’re sure Ashley doesn’t have any information that might possibly help?’ he asked her, reinforcing the fact that they still had no leads whatsoever.

Rebecca’s heart might have plummeted further, had it not been frozen inside her. ‘She was with Kristen when the call came,’ she lied, determined not to expose Ashley to further questioning. The girl was traumatised enough as it was, and riddled with guilt. Rebecca needed, somehow, to try to reassure her, but doubted she easily could.

John nodded again. ‘Don’t go far, though, Becky,’ he asked her. ‘We need to stay vigilant.’ The last was said with a despairing glance in the young officer’s direction, who Davies had wasted no time in reprimanding for apparently having let Matthew ‘simply stroll out’ unaccompanied.

Assuring him she wouldn’t, Rebecca headed out along the corridor. Kristen would be going to surgery soon. Rebecca needed to stay with Ashley. Make sure she was here to recount any news to Kristen as soon as she awoke. What news might it be though? Dread clutching painfully at her insides, now feeling faint from lack of food, Rebecca paused and extended a hand to the wall for support before going into the ward Kristen was on. She needed to be strong. For Ashley’s sake, she needed to hold on. Matthew would be in touch. Somehow, he … stifling a sob, Rebecca prayed desperately. Please keep them safe. Please God, bring them home. Taking several slow breaths, which only made the wooziness worse, she swiped at a tear on her cheek and walked on into the ward, and then froze. Kristen’s bed was empty. And so was the bedside chair.

‘Kristen?’ she shouted it, hurrying towards a nurse attending to a patient at one of the other beds.

‘In theatre, my lovely. We’re expecting her back soon,’ the nurse said, pausing before drawing the cubicle curtains.

Rebecca felt the floor shift beneath her. Ashley?

Wishing he’d had the opportunity to arm himself, Matthew parked the car, as instructed. Glancing around, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Just people going about their everyday business, unaware that his life was crashing down around him. So now what, he wondered? He walked, he supposed, no doubt delivering himself right into her hands.

Bracing himself, Matthew pushed open the door and climbed out. She wasn’t operating on her own though, that much had been established. She’d had at least one accomplice, the driver, who’d waited while she’d snatched his daughter, and then mown his sister down and just kept right on driving.

Sick twisted … Matthew’s jaw tightened, fury bubbling afresh at the thought of what his little girl had gone through, might be going through now. The surgery that Kristen had to undergo, which even if successful, might mean she’d be left with a permanent limp. Was it Connor Preston, he wondered, attempting to focus that fury into something constructive? The guy was obviously besotted with her. A fixation that had possibly turned to fear once he’d found himself complicit in murder? Matthew wasn’t in the clear yet in regard to any of this, but it was looking more likely that he would be exonerated. It wouldn’t take long for forensics to put Preston at the scene once they’d refocussed the investigation. The man had been petrified out of his wits when Matthew had last encountered him. Was Jasmine pulling his strings? Offering him a get out of jail card? In exchange for what though?

Pondering as he walked, Matthew didn’t have to wonder for too long who might be desperate or dense enough to go along with her. He’d gone maybe fifty yards when a car skidded alongside him, mounting the pavement as it screeched to a stop.

Definitely Preston. Matthew didn’t congratulate himself on working that one out. And definitely under coercion. He noted his expression, one of fearful apprehension, as Connor Preston leaned across from the driver’s side to fling the passenger door wide. The man was as white as a sheet and clearly scared shitless.

Jasmine was in the back. The look on her face, far from fearful, was one of ice-cold determination. ‘In!’ she growled through the open back window.

Matthew hesitated for a second. Once he got in that car he’d have no hope of making contact with anyone.

‘Now!’ Jasmine spat, raising her arms long enough for Matthew to see she really did mean business. The gun pointing right at him was a short-barrel shotgun, enough to inflict maximum damage fired at close range. Wielded in public, it could cause complete carnage. Matthew looked from the gun to her face, which was now twisted with pure, malevolent hatred, and his heart sank like a stone. Whatever he’d hoped to achieve, he stood little to no chance, he realised. The woman was armed, dangerous, and clearly completely insane. His blood running cold, his thoughts now on Mia and where she might be, he took a step towards the vehicle.

‘Wait,’ she said as he did.

Confused, Matthew squinted at her.

‘Turn around.’

Matthew’s stomach clenched hard. ‘Why?’ he asked, his throat tight.

‘Don’t question me!’ She eyeballed him furiously. ‘Just do it! Face the way you were coming.’

Perspiration wetting the back of his shirt, his mouth dry, Matthew reluctantly turned.

‘The garage forecourt,’ she said, causing Matthew’s gaze to snap immediately to it. ‘A friend of yours, I believe. Signal him. Make sure he knows we know he’s there, and then get in.’

Steve. Matthew swallowed hard. He didn’t recognise the car, but it could only be him. Matthew silently thanked God for the man. Obviously she was on to him but, persistent bugger that his ex-DS was, if there was any shred of hope here, any way to locate him once he was off the radar, then Steve would find it. Or at least he wouldn’t stop trying.

Raising a hand, Matthew signalled to him, making it clear that he’d seen him, and then, his limbs heavy, he turned to the car, which would be stolen in all likelihood, false plates, he imagined. The company this creature had kept in Tony Hayes told him she knew what she was about. Matthew had no idea what she wanted with him, but somehow, whatever it took, he had to persuade her not to take the life of an innocent child. His child. Matthew’s chest heaved with the weight of the pain welling inside him, the guilt, that because of him, his daughter … daughters … had had to suffer so much. Closing his eyes briefly, as he moved to climb into the car, he heard her again, her child’s melodic voice in his head, You’re not useless, Daddy. Lily, her concerned eyes, wide and innocent, looking right into his.

I think I am, sweetheart, just a bit. Silently, Matthew answered her, acknowledging as he did why Ashley might have found comfort in conversing with people who couldn’t possibly be there, yet were. Lily had never left him, not in reality.

Did she have any compassion, he wondered, this thing, a woman who’d already killed at least once to his knowledge? Matthew doubted it. He was sure of it when, once Preston had bumped the car back onto the road, he received a vicious jab to the back of his neck. ‘Do you think I’m stupid?’ she snarled behind him.

Matthew would have answered, if not for the searing pain that shot down his spine.

‘Disrespectful bastard, I asked you a question!’ she seethed, giving him another blow with the gun, fiercely enough this time to knock the breath from his body. ‘Well, do you?’ she screamed it louder.

Shit! ‘No!’ Matthew shouted, dropping his head to his hands and willing the pain to subside. ‘I … didn’t know he was there.’

‘Liar!’ She jabbed the gun hard into the back of his seat. ‘Drive the bloody car, Connor!’ she yelled as, obviously distracted, Preston lost control and veered all over the road. ‘Do you give a shit about your daughter, Adams? I mean do you want her dead, or what?’ She turned her attention back to Matthew.

Relief surging through him, Matthew felt himself physically wilt. She was alive. His baby was alive. The sick bitch had just confirmed it.

‘Where is she?’ he asked, calling on every ounce of his willpower to stay calm.

‘On her own!’ Jasmine shrieked close to his ear. ‘So you’d better bloody well stop messing about, hadn’t you?’

‘Ashley, where on earth have you been?’ Rebecca jumped to her feet, almost knocking over Kristen’s drip in the process, as Ashley finally came into the ward, where Rebecca had waited for Kristen to get back from theatre. She hadn’t known what else to do, where else to go, other than slowly out of her mind, while police and security alike scoured the hospital for her foster daughter.

Ashley looked towards her, surprised. ‘Making a phone call,’ she said, plainly unaware that she’d almost given Rebecca a heart attack. ‘I went to Reception, but the phone there wasn’t working so I went to A&E.’

‘I’ve been worried sick, Ashley!’ Rebecca stared at her, torn between hugging her and giving her hell.

Dropping her gaze, Ashley shrugged contritely. ‘Sorry,’ she said, glancing back up from under her eyelashes. ‘I didn’t think.’

‘Clearly.’ Rebecca eyed her despairingly. ‘You could have rung me, Ashley. Let me know where you were.’

‘Rrright.’ Ashley squinted at her bemusedly. ‘Um?’ Glancing down, she splayed her hands, which, unusual though it was, were empty, as in mobile-free.

Hell! They had no mobiles. Obviously. Closing her eyes, Rebecca ran a hand under her nose, emitting a strangulated laugh at her stupidity, which fast turned to a choking sob.

‘Sorry, Becky,’ Ashley said heart wrenchingly again, stepping quickly towards her and wrapping her arms around her. ‘I should have realised.’

‘It’s all right. I’m fine,’ Becky lied through her tears and attempted to pull herself together.

‘Yeah, right.’ Obviously unconvinced, Ashley stepped back a little to look into her eyes, her own huge eyes awash with such uncertainty and worry, Rebecca felt like curling up and crying like a baby. She couldn’t. She couldn’t give in. Dear God, where was her baby? Her husband, where was Matthew?

Breathing deeply, Rebecca reached to brush Ashley’s long ebony hair from her face. She’d come so far from the lost, lonely child who’d come into their lives, only to have to live through a nightmare, seemed so much more sure of herself, and now this. Would there ever be a time when the girl wasn’t perpetually blaming herself for everything? Reaching for her, Rebecca pulled Ashley to her, embracing her hard. ‘It’s not your fault,’ she said firmly, pressing a kiss to her head, and then, noticing DCI Davies loitering uncertainly behind her, she eased away.

‘I see you’re back with us.’ DCI Davies offered Ashley his usual short smile, though his eyes were peppered with discernible relief, Rebecca noted. ‘It might be a good idea if you let someone know if you intend to wander off in the foreseeable future, Ashley,’ he suggested, working to hide his agitation. ‘We’ve wasted an awful lot of manpower searching for you.’

‘Sorry,’ Ashley mumbled again, glancing apologetically in Rebecca’s direction.

Sure Ashley had got the point, Rebecca reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze.

‘However,’ DCI Davies went on, his brow furrowed disquietingly as he glanced between them, ‘you might like to know that, thanks to Ashley’s timely contact with Steve, we’ve managed to establish Matthew’s last known whereabouts and identify the car he’s travelling in.’

‘Car?’ Rebecca searched his face, with a mixture of confusion, fear and overwhelming relief.

‘Don’t get your hopes up too high, Becky,’ DCI Davies added, his expression far from reassuring.

Rebecca waited, every hair seeming to prickle over her skin, as DCI Davies hesitated.

‘It seems we’ve now lost contact with Matthew,’ he finally continued, locking his eyes warily on hers. ‘He’s not answering the phone he had with him, and I’m afraid Steve’s presence was noticed. He was forced to discontinue pursuit in the interests of Matthew’s safety. We’re following every lead, though, searching various premises,’ he pressed on, as Rebecca’s world shifted further off kilter. ‘We’ll do everything within our power to find them, Becky, I promise.’

Rebecca nodded, only vaguely aware of Ashley’s tight grip on her hand. ‘What premises?’ she asked, her voice strained, even to her own ears.

DCI Davies studied her pensively for a second. ‘The unoccupied premises around Jasmine Francis’ apartment,’ he supplied, still studying her hard. ‘Becky, I know I’ve already asked you this, but are you absolutely certain Matthew didn’t say anything about mention of a ransom?’

Rebecca shook her head in the absence of words she was struggling to formulate. ‘It’s Matthew she wants, isn’t it?’ she asked shakily, eventually.

DCI Davies’ gaze faltered. He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. His expression said it all.

‘You should have believed him, John,’ Rebecca said quietly, tears she couldn’t hope to hold back now falling freely down her cheeks. ‘I should have.’ She choked back a sob, as Ashley slid an arm silently around her shoulders. ‘I should have told him. He needed to know. I should have told him.’

‘Big mistake, copper. Huge!’ Jasmine seethed, once Connor had managed to get the car under control and pull around the back of a derelict business premises. ‘You obviously don’t want to see your darling little sprog again, do you?’

The copper was facing front, dragging his hands through his hair, not looking at her. Insolent bastard. Jasmine resisted giving him another jab in the back of his obstinate head, mainly because of Connor, the great wuss. ‘You keep doing that, you’ll break his bloody neck,’ he’d said, taking his eyes off the road again, and twizzling his own stupid neck to gawk at her. The copper had taken his chance and made a grab for the gun, which had been a very bad move.

‘Get out!’ she ordered Adams. She was so furious, she was practically spitting.

‘Aw, for fu— What you gonna do now?’ Connor whined, like the pathetic little puppy he was. The bloke was a bloody rugby player! Where were his balls? Idiot. The sooner she got rid of him the better.

‘I’m going to shoot him in the kneecap,’ Jasmine informed him, watching satisfied as the copper visibly winced. ‘That should stop his bravado.’

‘Yeah, smart that, Jas.’ Connor shook his head. ‘You’re sure you won’t be witnessed, are you?’ he asked, his gaze travelling upwards, towards a security camera perched high on the wall of the building.

‘Shit!’ Realising it might be working, Jasmine lowered the gun fast. ‘Drive,’ she said, shrinking back in her seat.

‘Drive where?’ Connor asked, sounding not very impressed.

‘You know where.’ Jasmine eyeballed the back of his thick head furiously. ‘Just go, will you? Or would you rather sit here until his mates catch up with us?’

Connor shook his head despairingly again, shoved the gearstick into reverse and released the handbrake. Not over speedily, Jasmine noted. Did he want to be caught, the complete moron?

The gun nestled in the crook of her arm, muzzle resting against the copper’s seat, Jasmine ferreted in her bag next to her on the seat. ‘You,’ she said, passing a glass vial over the copper’s shoulder, ‘draw a line.’

The copper half-turned.

‘Don’t move! Just take the damn powder,’ Jasmine ordered him.

‘I think she means don’t move anything but your hand,’ Connor commented drolly.

Ooh, idiot! She’d jab him in the bloody head in a minute.

Taking breath and blowing it out slowly, the copper took the container.

‘What?’ he said, emitting an incredulous laugh as he examined it. ‘You have to be kidding.’

‘You reckon?’ Jasmine pressed the gun harder into the back of his seat. ‘Do it, Adams. And make sure you do it right.’