Death Sentence (36 page)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

It didn’t take long for Matthew to piece things together. Ashley had been as adamant about the day her sister had disappeared from her life as she was that she’d had a sister. It had been Ashley’s birthday, apparently, when Kristen had walked out on her.

The child, Emily, had finally been identified as a girl, now in long-term foster care, abandoned as a toddler in a hospital A&E. Ashley, it seemed, had simply refused to let go of her. He’d yet to broach the subject of ongoing counselling with Ashley, whose symptoms— trouble discerning dreams from reality, seeing things and hearing voices—pointed to childhood schizophrenia. It wasn’t going to be easy to convince her about counselling and ongoing psychiatric care. Not only was Ashley strong-willed, but she simply refused to believe that admitting to having problems wouldn’t mean she’d end up back in care. Matthew, somehow, had to first convince her it was manageable. That she was wanted, her, for who she was, that being different wasn’t something she should be ashamed of.

Finding Kristen took a little longer than he’d expected. Then he’d had to tail her, making sure to pick his moment to confront her. Thereafter the rest was up to her. She had a trust fund waiting for her, a daughter who might possibly want something to do with her, another she might not see again, but who was healthy and happy. Watching her from where he sat, freezing cold, on yet another windy canal embankment, Matthew waited. She was alive, still breathing, stirring occasionally as dawn broke. He doubted she’d be sober when she eventually woke, but she wouldn’t be totally inebriated either. He might get through to her. He might not. Knowing he had been emotionally missing when she needed him though, Matthew had to give it one last try.

Kristen stirred again, wriggling, like a caterpillar in her sleeping bag, as a gust of wind sharp enough to strip the bark from the trees whistled through the tunnel. Blowing into his hands to warm them, Matthew let her be. He needed her to be fully awake, under her own steam, and paying attention.

Finally, a narrowboat chugging past lurched her to consciousness.

‘Bloody thing,’ she muttered, burying herself deeper in her bag and tugging it over her head.

Matthew waited a little longer.

‘Kristen,’ he said then, loud enough for her to hear. He didn’t stand, but waited patiently again.

The top of her head appeared first, followed by her furrowed forehead and heavy-lidded eyes. ‘Matthew?’ she muffled, blinking blearily at him.

‘One word,’ Matthew got to his feet, ‘Emily.’ He let it hang, assessing her reaction carefully.

Kristen just stared at him, her eyes rounded and filled with guilt, swiftly followed by the belligerence Matthew had seen too many times before.

‘You have an appointment,’ he said, holding his temper and placing a card on the ground next to her. ‘Alcohol recovery and mental health services. Be there, Kristen, or I won’t be ever again.’ With which Matthew turned away.

‘I knew she’d be safe!’ Kristen blurted behind him.

Matthew conceded that much. In leaving her at the hospital, Kristen had done her best, given her addiction, ergo lack of caring skills, to make sure she was. That had been the deciding factor when Becky and he had discussed whether to try again to seek her out.

‘I thought she’d be better off,’ Kristen added, as he slowed. ‘I mean she’d have to be wouldn’t she, anywhere but with me.’

Matthew hesitated, then turned around. Whatever she said next would be the crucial comment, the one that would persuade him to keep caring, to keep tearing himself up over her.

Kristen looked at him, looked down under his unflinching gaze, dragged a hand under her nose.

‘Is she all right?’ she asked hesitantly, looking back at him after a second. Her expression told Matthew all he needed to know, the beseeching look in her eyes. She cared. In there somewhere she did actually care what had happened to her kids.

‘She’s safe,’ he assured her. ‘You did that much for her. Get your act together, Kristen. There’s help out there. Here, too. But you have to want it.’

Kristen glanced away again, her face resolute and uncertain in turn, her willpower already doing battle with her demons, Matthew guessed. He watched while she chewed doggedly on a fingernail. ‘Well?’ he asked her.

No answer. No surprise. Matthew sighed and turned away, this time for the last time. He’d done his best. He wasn’t going to force march her there. Not again.

‘Wait!’ Kristen stopped him. ‘Walk with me,’ she asked him, ‘to the centre.’

Matthew debated, checking his watch, as if that could tell him when the baby might come.
Hell,
now what did he do?

‘Please?’ Kristen said, scrambling out of the sleeping bag behind him. ‘It’s only a short walk.’ She grabbed up her meagre belongings and stumbled towards him. ‘You’ve come this far …’

That he had. Matthew ran a hand over his neck.

‘Okay.’ He relented, with a sigh. ‘Just as far as the centre, though, Kristen. After that, it’s up to you. I have to get back.’

‘Why?’ Kristen asked, struggling to keep step with him as Matthew set a brisk pace, checking his mobile for messages as he walked.

‘Ashley has a psychiatric appointment,’ he said, deciding that much information couldn’t hurt, given Kristen was interested.

Kristen’s step faltered. ‘How is she?’ she asked, no hint of indifference this time.

‘Good,’ Matthew said, and turned to reach for the rucksack she was struggling with.

‘Is she in school?’ Kristen was now almost running to keep up with him, as Matthew resumed walking.

‘Yep.’ He checked his watch again. ‘But not today. She’s standing in in lieu of the expectant father, which is why I can’t hang about.’

‘Do you think she’ll ever want to see me again?’ Kristen almost blurted that question out.

Matthew thought about it. ‘Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe, in time. Like I say, it’s up to you, Kristen. You need to get sober. I’ll make an effort to be around, but only if you …’ Matthew stopped, realising he was talking to himself.

Glancing back he gathered Kristen had also stopped. ‘You’re having a baby?’ she asked, her expression now stunned, her sleeping bag clutched to her chest.

‘Imminently.’ Mathew reached for his mobile, checking that again too.

Kristen blinked at him in wonder, as he looked back at her.

‘Oh, Matthew, that’s fantastic news.’ She smiled. The first time Mathew had seen her smile properly in a very long time, reminding him of the girl she once was. A scrawny little thing in her teens, she’d been amazingly pretty. Still was, even with the crew cut, when she was sober.

‘I’m so proud of you, you know. I know I slag you off and give you grief,’ she shrugged embarrassedly, ‘but just so you know.’

‘Ditto,’ Matthew said, nodding meaningfully towards the location of the drop-in centre.

****

‘Are you sure you’re not about to go into labour?’ Matthew asked, noting the size of Becky’s considerable and low bump, as he pulled on a fresh shirt.

Rebecca paused in her attempts to tie her hair up in a topknot. Matthew wished she wouldn’t. He loved it tumbling down her back in all its fiery auburn glory.

‘Um, hold on, I’ll just check.’ She glanced at him through the bedroom mirror, a wry smile on her face and then bent to address her tummy. ‘Hullo, little bump. Daddy wants to know when we’re expecting you.’

‘You’re taking the pee, Mrs Adams.’ Matthew smiled, walking across to wrap his arms around her, as she straightened up.

‘And you’re worrying too much.’ Becky gave him a mock-scowl. Be gone,’ she said, ‘before I have you arrested for ogling naked, pregnant women.’

‘It’d be worth it.’ Dropping his hands to her tummy, Matthew planted a soft kiss on the nape of her neck. ‘You sure you’re going to be OK?’

Becky twizzled in his arms. ‘Fine,’ she assured him. ‘I’m pregnant, not made of porcelain. I think I can manage to waddle as far as the phone if I need you.’

‘Not too much waddling. You’re supposed to be resting,’ Matthew reminded her, his gaze straying to her succulent lips, also naked, fresh out of the shower and begging to be kissed. ‘Did I ever tell you you’re beautiful?’ He gave in to temptation and pressed his mouth lightly against hers.

‘Often,’ Rebecca assured him. ‘You’re an excellent liar.’

Matthew was about to say, would I ever, but mindful that he hadn’t been wholly truthful in the past, caught himself. But for Ashley, he might have lost her. Why Becky had stayed with him, still loved him—and she did, it was right there in her beautiful aquamarine eyes, Matthew couldn’t fathom. One thing he was sure about, though, was his absolute love for this woman: his wife, his friend, his lover, the mother of his children. Never again, would he lose sight of the fact that she was the most important thing in his life, the one constant, his anchor. If there was anything good to take away from that godforsaken day, it was that it had made Matthew more determined to be the best husband and father he could be, to make sure every decision that was made was made jointly, to be there, one hundred percent, emotionally, physically. His family was his priority. It should always have been.

‘You’d better go,’ Becky murmured, as his lips involuntarily found their way to the soft curve of her neck.

‘I know, just …’ Matthew strayed lower. Tempted by her far-too-enticing bare breasts, he took one inviting nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, circling with his tongue, until a low moan escaped her.

‘I could do unspeakable things to you, right now,’ he whispered huskily, finding her lips again with his own, his need growing, considerably, as she dipped the pink tip of her succulent tongue into his mouth.

God, if only she knew how much he wanted to sweep her up in his arms, lay her down on the bed and make tender sweet love to her. She was so desirable like this, he couldn’t keep his hands off her. Sensual lovemaking, however, possibly wasn’t on the agenda, given his wife was now past her due date. Aware he might be a little over-demanding, Matthew eased reluctantly away.

‘Now
that,
DI Adams,’ Becky breathed, blinking hazily up at him, ‘is just plain unfair.’

‘I know,’ Matthew smiled, tempted now to throw caution to the wind and kiss every delectable inch of her, ‘but you love it.’

‘I do, frequently,’ Becky assured him, grazing a thumb lightly across his mouth. ‘However,’ Her gaze flicked to the bedside cabinet, on which sat the alarm clock.

‘
Crap.’
Matthew squeezed his eyes closed, realising he was about to make Ashley late for her first appointment. ‘Sorry,’ he said, turning to grab up his watch. ‘Reluctant though I am, I have to go.’

‘As I pointed out to you before you took advantage of me.’ Becky gave him her best admonishing look.

Matthew smiled. ‘I didn’t,’ he said, slipped on the watch and then reached to finish buttoning his shirt. ‘Did I?’ He looked worriedly back up.

Becky laughed, that gorgeous sexy laugh, deep in her throat.

‘No,’ she assured him, with a roll of her eyes.

‘Go.’ Flapping him towards the door, she reached for her dressing gown from the bed.

‘I’m gone.’ Matthew collected his jacket and headed for the door.

‘Got your inhaler?’ Becky reminded him.

Matthew patted around his pockets. ‘Yep. Catch you later.’ He glanced at her over his shoulder, not quite able to believe he was about to leave unfinished business in the bedroom with his wife invitingly, gorgeously naked.

‘Love you,’ Becky said, as he disappeared onto the landing.

‘Ditto,’ Matthew called behind him, then, ‘Ashley,’ he shouted down to where she was watching TV. ‘We have to go. Are you ready?’

Becky was slipping into her dressing gown when he peered back in.
Gorgeous
. Matthew watched her for a second.

‘I love you. More than my life,’ he amended softly, walking across to her to give her a parting kiss.

‘You too, bump.’ He bent to place another kiss on her tummy. ‘Behave yourself,’ he said, addressing it firmly, then turned again for the door.

‘We’ll do our best, but we can’t promise,’ Becky called after him. ‘Drive carefully, Matthew.’

****

Matthew sighed and glanced back to the windscreen. No amount of persuading seemed to convince Ashley that psychiatric care didn’t mean she would end up back in care.

‘Ashley, you’re staying with us, okay?’ he tried again, vying for her attention with whatever she was plugged into on her phone.

‘Given it’s what you want, your home will always be with us, you know that. Or you should.’

He decided not to go over old ground. Guilt over
the freak
as she’d labelled him, he’d managed to persuade her was wasted emotion. That bastard had pushed her to the limit, he’d told her that. Convinced her that no one would have blamed her. At least, he hoped he had. Matthew certainly hadn’t wasted too much time worrying over Sullivan. The forensics on the nail file coming up with no incriminating DNA had shaken him to the core, making Matthew wonder if he really was as much a cold, sadistic killer as Sullivan had been. He would have taken the shot. Knowing no other way of ensuring his family wouldn’t live in constant fear of their lives, whether Sullivan was banged up or not, he would have shot to kill, making it definitely murder in Matthew’s mind. Since that day, though, when he’d agonised about whether he’d made the right decision regarding Ashley’s part in it, seeing their baby grow, seeing Ashley grow emotionally, despite this latest blip, he’d called it
quid pro quo
and tried to relegate it to history.

The dreams would always haunt him. Becky too, who still cried in her sleep. Ashley he wasn’t sure about.
Christ,
he hoped he’d made a right decision that day.

‘Ashley?’ He glanced sideways at her.

Concentrating on scraping the black polish from her thumbnail, Ashley only dropped her gaze further.

‘The condition is manageable, Ashley,’ Matthew tried to alleviate her fears, but wasn’t quite sure how. She’d gone quiet on hearing the diagnosis, which meant the psychiatric assessment hadn’t gone as well as it might.