‘Right, that’s ten minutes. It’s time to put down your phone.’ Stephen stood up from the hospital chair that he’d dragged over so that he could be closer to her bed. His hand was out, and his gaze was fixed firmly on her phone.
‘The doctor said I was fine,’ Gemma reminded him, but surrendered the phone all the same. He put it on the table next to the grapes he’d bought her. Before he could sit down, she reached out for his hand. ‘Thank you.’
‘For taking your phone away?’ He arched an eyebrow.
‘For everything,’ she corrected, a lump catching in her throat. It had been four days since the police had arrested Jonathan Reid and she’d been taken to hospital. Her wrists and ankles had been dressed and the terrible nausea and headaches from the ketamine he’d drugged her with had finally passed.
But all of that paled in comparison to the news about Eloise Curtis… or should she say Marion Wallace.
Police had gone to her house after arresting Jonathan and had found her dead at the bottom of the stairs. Apparently, she’d had a bad hip and had tripped on a rug. There were no signs of forced entry but a wall safe was open and there were newspaper clippings and a key on the hallstand had led them to a small door at the back of the cellar. That’s where they found the bones of Colin Wallace’s many victims. Including Gemma’s brother, Lucas.
Gemma’s heart pounded and Stephen’s fingers instinctively tightened around hers. As if knowing that’s where her thoughts had gone. Tears prickled her eyes.
Forensics still needed to identify the bones but Gemma knew it was them. The terrible thing inside her that had dragged her to fulfil her purpose was gone. She’d done it, and in due course, she’d be able to mourn her brother properly.
It wasn’t exactly peace, but it was something.
And Stephen had sat beside her every day as she’d ached and cried and screamed.
‘Well, I was worried you might miss your train again, so I wanted to make sure you came back to Manchester.’ His normally placid expression disappeared and his cheeks reddened.
‘Still not what I mean,’ she said, forcing him to return her gaze. His mouth opened and then closed again as something crossed his face.
‘Oh.’ He stepped closer to the bed, much like a swimmer testing the December waters. Gemma tightened her grip around his hand and tugged him closer. ‘Are you sure?’ his voice was hoarse. ‘I know you haven’t wanted anything serious, but that’s not enough for me. Gemma, I want more.’
She swallowed. Last week was like a blur. Some kind of dream that had held her captive. And then Stephen had kicked the door open and saved her, figuratively and metaphorically. She stared at him. His blue eyes were dark and his impossibly long lashes brushed his checks when he blinked. It’s all she’d thought of when she’d been locked up, and now she was free, it was like she’d always loved him.
‘I want that, too.’
He nodded his head and his mouth turned up at one side. Gemma’s heart expanded. Her kind, stoic friend who had been right in front of her the entire time. She returned the smile even as he kissed her, his mouth and breath warm against hers.
‘Oh. Yikes. Terrible timing. Sorry, I’ll come back later,’ a familiar voice said and Gemma broke away to see Libby Curtis standing in the doorway. Her dark hair was loose and she was holding a large basket of what looked like cruffins.
‘No, please don’t,’ Stephen said, also taking in the cruffins and Gemma’s excited gaze. ‘I’ve got to finish filling out some forms and Gem will never forgive me if she misses out on pastries.’
‘And they’re not just any pastries… they’re from Maples.’ Libby gave them both a shy smile and joined them. ‘I hope it’s okay to visit. I wasn’t sure if you were up to seeing anyone yet.’
‘You’re not just anyone.’ Gemma nodded to the chair that Stephen had recently vacated. Then she turned to him. ‘You won’t be gone too long, will you?’
‘I swear.’ He planted a warm kiss on her knuckles, then nodded at Libby and disappeared back down the ward.
Libby’s mouth twitched, as if she was holding back a smile. ‘Is this a new development?’
‘I guess so. But in another way, it’s been twenty years in the making,’ Gemma admitted, though her guilt over what had happened stopped her from returning the smile. She’d thrust herself into Libby and Sam’s life with a bull-in-a-China-shop approach. It had been way out of line. ‘I’m pleased you came in. I’ve been wanting to thank you.’
‘Stephen’s the one you need to thank. He was persistent.’
‘He’s not that persistent,’ Gemma caught her gaze. ‘I know that what he asked you to do must have been difficult, given that we weren’t sure if Nathan—’ she broke off, more guilt catching in her throat. She pushed past it. ‘I’m sorry. I should never have done that to you or your family. Stephen tried to warn me not to come down here and stir up old ghosts.’
‘Definitely not the best two weeks of my life,’ Libby admitted, before holding her gaze. ‘But it helped get us all to the truth. We’re always telling the kids that they need to do the right thing… not the easy one.’
‘Still, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to speak to you, or Sam, the way I did. I was so blindsided by my own needs that I handed you a live grenade.’
Libby bowed her head and inhaled, but when she looked up, her eyes were calm. ‘Eloise made Nathan and Jonathan keep so many secrets that I don’t think anything short of an explosion would’ve prised the lid off.’
Gemma studied her steepled fingers for several moments, considering her words. She knew that Stephen had been staying in close contact with Libby after police had discovered another possible victim. A six-month-old baby called Kieran Rowe.
Gemma remembered the case and she’d researched it while writing her book, but the age and date hadn’t been strong enough for her to include it. But she’d interviewed Nancy Rowe. The grieving mother who had been sent to prison, accused of her own son’s murder.
Of course, they’d need the DNA tests first, but if Nathan really was Kieran, then he’d been as much of a victim as Lucas and the other boys. Even Jonathan.
‘H-how is he?’
Libby’s brow furrowed. ‘He’s… doing okay. When he took off like that I panicked, not knowing where he was or whether he was even going to come back. He’d found out about Eloise and went searching for his birth mother. But he had no luck and hated being away from us. That’s why he came back. We’re his real family.’
‘So, he’s given up on finding his real mother, then?’
‘No. He’s going to employ a private detective to look for her. I think that’s for the best. They’d know where to look. Yesterday was his first session with a therapist. I think it will help him process everything and articulate how he feels. Growing up with Colin’s looming, dark shadow and Eloise’s controlling personality, he didn’t get to explore himself much.’ Some of the worry left her face and she smiled. ‘Can you believe he’s started knitting? Yesterday, he finished a lopsided beanie, and in typical Nathan way, he now wants to do a surfboard cover. Who knows, it could become some strange, niche business.’
Gemma hoped so. Because he deserved peace and happiness, just like what he’d given to her and the other families.
‘Well, thank him for me.’ Her voice broke and Libby reached out and patted her hand. ‘And if you do ever come up to Manchester, you’ll have to let me know.’
‘I’d like that,’ Libby said as Stephen walked back into the room. Before Gemma could even protest, Libby was on her feet. The goodbyes were fast and once she was gone, Stephen turned to her.
‘Good news. You can be discharged in a couple of hours, which means by tonight, we can be home.’
Home. Warmth flooded her limbs and she leaned back against the pillow. Yes, that was good news indeed.