Authors: Sheryl Browne
Guessing he owed Steve more than a half-arsed apology, Matthew nodded gratefully and walked around to the drawer Steve had opened.
‘I’ll keep you up to speed.’ Steve extended his hand, once Matthew had retrieved his illegal goods.
‘Cheers,’ Matthew shook it, feeling like a total shit for having let the man down, and then worse, as DS Collins came into the office.
‘Nice going, sir,’ she said, casting him a scathing glance, as she marched past. She was still wearing her sequins under her coat, Matthew noted, and obviously also not overly impressed with him.
****
‘Matthew?’ Rebecca called, as she came into the kitchen.
‘Here.’ Matthew looked up from where he sat at the table, nursing a substantial whisky, the bottle parked to one side, Rebecca noted, with some trepidation.
‘Twelve?’ she asked about his day, which had obviously been a rough one.
Matthew laughed sardonically. ‘Way off the scale.’
Rebecca walked over to him. ‘It’s three a.m.,’ she pointed out, gently.
‘I know. I’m sorry. I just …’ Heaving out a sigh, Matthew trailed off.
‘I take it you can’t sleep?’ Rebecca ventured. The fact that he’d tossed and turned when he had finally come to bed after mooching about outside for a good hour had given her a subtle indication.
Matthew shrugged. ‘Brain’s too active. Sorry,’ he repeated. ‘You’re cold.’ He looked her over, concerned, as Rebecca rubbed her goose-pimpled arms.
‘My foot-warmer deserted me.’ She smiled, studying his face. God, he looked so tired. What on earth was it that was worrying him?
‘Come here.’ Matthew extended and arm and pulled her towards him. ‘I’ll warm you up.’
Smiling, Rebecca settled into his lap and snuggled into him. ‘Not after half a bottle of whisky you won’t.’
‘Er, no, probably not,’ Matthew conceded, with a small smile.
‘Do you want to share?’ Rebecca glanced up at him.
Matthew drew in a breath and shook his head. ‘Just work stuff. Something I have to try to figure out. Nothing to worry about.’
Rebecca didn’t push him. She knew better than to do that. Matthew would never share anything he thought might be too upsetting, as if she were made of cut glass. She couldn’t help but love him for trying to protect her, but she really did despair of him keeping his emotions bottled up.
Matthew squeezed her closer. ‘Sorry,’ he said again and planted a soft kiss on the top of her head. ‘How’s Ashley?’ he asked, after a pause.
‘Good. Fast asleep with her earphones still plugged in.’ Rebecca debated, then, ‘She talks to herself, have you noticed?’
‘Sorry?’ Matthew’s mind was obviously elsewhere.
‘Ashley, I’ve heard her. The thing is, it’s not to herself exactly, more as if she’s talking to someone else.’
‘Oh.’ Matthew furrowed his brow. ‘So, what do you think? An imaginary friend possibly?’
Rebecca hesitated. ‘I think it’s a real friend. Or at least it was. Someone she might possibly be grieving the loss of.’
‘Really?’ Matthew contemplated. ‘They never mentioned anything at the care home. Do you think it’s a problem?’
‘No. Not really. I’ll mention it to the counsellor, but I think it might just be her way of expressing her emotions. It’s just …’ Rebecca looked up at him. ‘She broke a statue. The porcelain Japanese lady in the lounge, you know the one. It’s no big deal, but …’
‘But?’ Matthew urged her.
‘I heard her talking, just before I heard the crash. I was in here. She kept telling whoever it was to stop it. She sounded quite distressed, and …’ Again, Rebecca hesitated, not wanting to add to Matthew’s problems. But then, he should know, she supposed ‘… when I went in, the statue was broken, the scatter cushions were … Well, scattered everywhere. The magazines on the coffee table, too. She said she saw a mouse, but I’m not convinced.’
Matthew’s frown deepened.
‘She might just be testing us,’ Rebecca suggested.
‘Testing you.’ Matthew glanced apologetically at her. ‘I’m sorry, Becks. I should have been here earlier. I—’
‘Got detained, I gathered. You don’t have to keep apologising, Matthew. I know the nature of your work means unpredictable hours. I also know it takes a lot out of you. Come on, come to bed.’ Slipping off his lap, she threaded an arm through his and urged him up. ‘Lie with me, even if you can’t sleep.’
‘Now there’s an offer a man can’t refuse.’ Matthew smiled and got unsteadily to his feet.
‘Unless he’s incapable,’ Rebecca reminded him. She tried not to read too much into his sitting up drinking. Obviously, he did have some things he needed to think through. Not that he’d be doing much sensible thinking with however many whiskies under his belt. Hopefully, the news she had to tell him would cheer him up a bit. She wouldn’t tell him yet, though, not while he’d got so much on his mind. ‘I’ve booked a day off tomorrow,’ she said instead, chatting as they walked towards the stairs. ‘I thought Ashley and I would go shopping.’
Mathew stopped dead. ‘Shopping?’ He sounded alarmed.
‘Yes?’ Rebecca turned to face him, puzzled. ‘You know that thing we do when we need to buy things. Ashley needs some stuff. Don’t worry, we won’t break the bank.’
Matthew ran a hand over his neck, another telling indicator of his stress levels. ‘Do you think that’s a good idea?’
‘Yes.’ Rebecca eyed him curiously. It wasn’t like Matthew to vet her shopping habits. ‘She doesn’t even have a decent phone. I thought it might be nice if she had some of the normal things a teenager should have. Plus her wardrobe needs a bit of a makeover. Do you not think it’s a good idea then?’
‘No. Yes. I, er …’ Matthew appeared confused, indecisive, definitely not himself, possibly due to alcohol consumption. ‘It’s a great idea.’ He smiled, finally. ‘In fact, I’ll come with you.’
Now Rebecca was definitely worried. Matthew tried, but shopping was not on top of his list of fun things to do. ‘You? Shopping? On a work day?’
‘I have some leave,’ Matthew said quickly. ‘Annual leave I need to take, so …’ He shrugged, trying for nonchalant, but still he looked as confused as Rebecca felt.
She needed to get him to bed, she decided. He was exhausted. Whatever he was worrying about would still be there in the morning.
‘You hate shopping,’ she reminded him. ‘In any case, I thought it would be a perfect opportunity to do a bit of girl-talk, which I’m thinking you would also probably hate. Come on.’
Taking hold of his hand, she gave him a tug onwards, at which Matthew winced.
‘Matthew? Rebecca glanced down at the hand he was now attempting to retract. ‘What on earth have you done?’
‘Car door,’ Matthew was quick to answer again. ‘We were out on a shout. Steve got a bit keen. I’ll come shopping with you,’ he repeated, holding her gaze, searching her eyes. Rebecca detected a hint of desperation in his.
‘Okay,’ she relented, growing more concerned as she glanced again at his bruised knuckles and then back to his face. ‘But you get to pay for lunch,’ she warned him, attempting to lead him upstairs, ‘and no complaining in the lingerie department.’
‘Do I ever?’ Matthew said, sounding relieved, more like himself.
Still Rebecca was concerned. It was true he didn’t mind the lingerie-shopping bit, he was actually quite good at selecting it, but shopping generally wasn’t something he would volunteer for. She needed to talk to him properly, get to the root of what was troubling him. Tomorrow would be soon enough, though, when he’d had a chance to catch up on his sleep.
****
Matthew was still dead to the world when Rebecca went back up to check on him the next morning. Even sleeping, he looked troubled. No wonder when he’d woken at least three times in the night, clearly haunted by some recurring nightmare. Was he feverish, coming down with something? There was an awful bug going around at the hospital. Looking him over, she noted his sweat-dampened torso, half in and half out of the duvet he’d wrestled with. He was obviously exhausted. Trooping round the shops was probably the last thing he needed. She’d leave him, she decided. The rest would do him good.
Padding back out, she closed the door carefully behind her and headed along the landing to Ashley’s room.
‘Ready?’ She poked hear head around the door, and then pressed a finger to her lips when Ashley looked up from the clothes she was searching through. ‘Matthew’s still sleeping.’
Ashley nodded. ‘Two minutes,’ she said and went back to her clothes-strewn bed.
Not so far off normal teenager then?
Rebecca smiled, reminding herself mess was good, as she headed downstairs.
She found a pen and wrote Matthew a quick note:
Sorry, you’ve been outvoted. Stay and catch up on your beauty sleep. Back around five. Catch you later. xxxx P.S. Haute cuisine not necessary. I’ll bring some ready meals in. P.P.S. Love you loads.
Adding a few more kisses for luck, Rebecca looked up as Ashley appeared.
‘Do I look okay?’ she asked, peering uncertainly from under her curtain of hair.
‘Lovely,’ Rebecca assured her. She took in the trainers, which had seen better days, the black leggings and faded grey tee. ‘I think we could improve on the trainers, though,’ she suggested diplomatically. ‘What do you think?’
‘Cool.’ Ashley brightened and dragged her hair from her face.
She was definitely pretty, Rebecca decided. Exceptionally pretty.
‘How about me? Will I pass?’ She indicated her own attire: her oversize cable-knit sweater over a loose fitting shirt-dress.
‘Yeah, good,’ Ashley offered. ‘Like the boots.’
Rebecca glanced down at her trusty Lolita ankle boots, red in colour, and quite trendy for someone who must appear ancient in Ashley’s eyes. More importantly, they were made for walking in, thank goodness. Feeling distinctly wobbly herself earlier, Rebecca might have been struggling to keep the pace otherwise.
‘Come on then, let’s hit the shops, before Matthew wakes up and decides to tag along.’
She plucked up her bag and car keys, hooked arms with Ashley and the two headed for the door. Rebecca was actually looking forward to this. She hadn’t had a good girly shop in ages.
Chapter Nine
Realising the shrill cry piercing his brain wasn’t part of his nightmare, Matthew bolted upright. Sweat saturating his forehead and pooling at the base of his neck, he disentangled himself from the duvet and stumbled out of bed.
Dammit.
Where
was
the bloody thing? Glancing around the room for his ringing mobile, he tried to shake his head free of black crows picking over dead carcasses, and his gut feeling that something was very wrong. Searching through his clothes, he finally located the phone in his jacket pocket and jabbed urgently at the answer button. ‘Adams?’
‘He’s filed,’ Steve announced, without ceremony. ‘Came in with his solicitor in tow. I thought you should know.’
‘Right.’ Matthew sucked in a tight breath. ‘What am I looking at?’
Steve hesitated. ‘Section 18 Assault,’ he then delivered the bad news solemnly.
GBH with intent
, Matthew mentally translated, which meant, if it stuck, it would be prosecuted in the Crown Court, ergo, he was stuffed, totally.
‘You’ll need to come in and make a statement,’ Steve reminded him, after another uncomfortable pause.
Matthew closed his eyes and swallowed hard.
‘Matt?’
‘Yes!’ Matthew answered shortly, ‘I gathered. I’ll get showered and be right there.’
Which meant his intended search of the house would have to wait. Whatever Davies chose to believe, Sullivan
had
been here. The man had been crawling around his property, spying on his wife, like some sick animal hunting its prey. Leaving nothing to chance, Matthew had intended to take the place apart, search it inch by inch. Listening devices and hidden cameras weren’t unfeasible. Anything was possible where Sullivan was concerned.
‘Not sure it will help much, but I did mention I heard you telling him to stay away from your wife,’ Steve offered. ‘Like I say, not sure it will do any good, but …’
‘Okay.’ Matthew nodded, grateful that Steve, at least, didn’t seem to be casting him as the villain. ‘Thanks, Steve.’
‘Least I could do,’ Steve said, awkwardly.
‘Has he left?’ Matthew asked, trying to focus on the here and now, rather than the waking nightmare his life was about to become. ‘Sullivan, is he still on the premises?’
‘Left about an hour ago. I tried to call you, but you weren’t answering.’
Meaning Sullivan was now free to do what he liked to whoever he liked and no one could touch him. It had been a clever plan, Matthew had to concede. Sullivan had obviously considered it worth taking a beating to make sure Matthew’s hands were tied. He’d turned the tables: stitched
him
up. One provocation too far was all it had needed. Sullivan had known it.
‘I’ll be there shortly,’ he said, hanging up. He’d have to talk to Rebecca, Matthew realised, grabbing his trousers and tugging them on. He’d hoped not to. At least not yet, some small part of him hoping this wasn’t happening. That his colleagues would take his word over a piece of lowlife scum; that his wife might even be offered protection.
Hah!
Fat chance. Matthew laughed cynically, angrily stuffing an arm into his shirt. They’d claimed to believe his theory that Sullivan had something to do with Lily’s death, but without proof, there could be no prosecution. This time, Davies had made it blatantly obvious he thought Matthew had been making up fairy stories, taking an opportunity to seek some form of retribution. And this time, it was him being prosecuted.
In which case, this time, he
would
make sure Sullivan got what was coming. And if he had to go above the law, so be it. His jaw tight-set, his emotions spiralling, Matthew headed for the landing.
‘Becky?’ He headed down the stairs and across the empty lounge to the kitchen. Finding that empty too, he went back upstairs to check out Ashley’s room, even knowing she wouldn’t be there.
Nothing.
Shit!
Matthew turned full circle, dragged his hand through his hair in frustration, and then went to the bedroom window to check on Rebecca’s car. Gone, he registered, turning to race back down to the kitchen. Panic knotting his insides, he scanned the working surfaces, trying to unscramble his brain and remember what the hell Rebecca had said. And there it was, a note propped against the kettle. Matthew squeezed his eyes shut tight, his heart sinking fast.
Shopping.
Sullivan was walking around scot-free, following her possibly, and she’d gone shopping.