Next Of Kin (Unnatural Selection #3) (16 page)

I kept it
light, skipping the gory details in Brazil, and emphasising the
exciting aspects of the caper. But as soon as I mentioned Andy
helping us with costume detail, he stopped me with a slashing
movement of his hand.

“You shouldn’t
have involved Andy. He could lose his job.”

“We didn’t
involve him. And none of us broke the law. We were careful.”

“You could
have been hurt. What if someone had rumbled the girls?”

“You seem to
think I had control over them, Nick. I can assure you they were
fully independent and determined to get you home as much as I
was.”

“You shouldn’t
have risked yourselves. Wasn’t worth it.”

“Nick!”

“I was trying
to keep you safe, damn it!”

He threw off
the blankets and stomped down the path to the end of the garden. I
didn’t follow. To be honest, I was just a little bit pissed off
with the man. Sure, Chris and his team had got the conformation on
Nick’s whereabouts from someone other than us, but he only found
that someone because Charlotte and Beth had put themselves on the
line for him. For both of us.

But it only
took me a few seconds to calm down. It was freezing outside, and I
couldn’t let Nick stand in the dark all night. I picked my way
carefully down the paving stones, and wrapped my arms around him.
He was shaking, and when I put my face against his, I realised he
was crying.

“Come back
inside, love. Come on. We don’t have to thrash this out
tonight.”

He nodded
against my cheek, so I led him back, grabbing the blankets and
bringing him and them back into the house. He went into the living
room, carrying the rugs. I put the kettle on, then went to find
him.

He had the
blankets around him again, even though the house was much warmer
than outside.

“Want to sleep
down here?” I asked. “I can stay with you.”

“I can’t
sleep. I thought it would be easy, if I ever came back.”

I sat on the
floor next to the sofa. He put his hand on my hair and stroked it.
“It should get easier. You’re back. Whatever you need now, we can
sort out.”

He huddled in
his blankets and didn’t answer.

“Tea?” I
asked.

“Okay.”

I wondered
what to do as I assembled the green tea leaves and pot. I didn’t
know what would help Nick. Did he need to talk, or did he need
sleep? Or did he just need a good therapist?

I should have
put more thought into the post-rescue. I’d been so focussed on
finding him that I hadn’t spent much time at all thinking about
what captivity would have done to him. I’d known it would be rough,
but I hadn’t considered the specific damage.

I was out of
my depth, and afraid of hurting him by something I did—or didn’t
do.

But right now,
I only had instinct. At three am, that would have to do.

I brought the
tea in. Nick was sitting up, looking rather sheepish. “I’m scaring
you.”

“I’m worried.
It’s not surprising you’re suffering after-effects.”

“I’m fine,
Anton.”

“Uh huh.” I
poured him a cup of tea and handed it to him.

“I am. Okay,
I’m stressed and freaked and embarrassing myself, but I’m not
losing my mind. I know what’s happening, where I am, what reality
I’m in. Though not the date.”

“Eighth of
December.”

“Right.” He
looked a little lost at that, but when I reached for his hand, he
shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I’m adjusting.” He sipped the tea.
“God that’s good. Bastards only ever gave me water and HRF. The
crappy flavoured stuff too.”

“I have some
wine if that would help.”

“Maybe
tomorrow. I feel better already. Knowing I can walk outside anytime
I like, helps. Knowing I can touch you helps a lot more.” He put
his hand on my head again. “I think I need to wallow in all the
things I couldn’t do.”

“That, I can
help with. Just tell me. And warn me if you go outside again. I
want to be there.”

“You don’t
need to freeze your nuts off for me.”

“I was
thinking of making sure neither of us did. I’ve got plans for
them.”

I waggled my
eyebrows, and he laughed a little. He finished his cup of tea, then
stood, shedding his blankets. “Bed.”

“I don’t mind
sitting up.”

“I do. Um,
about what I said....”

“You’d have
done exactly the same for me, and so would they. I’ll let them do
the convincing.”

“I’m used to
being the one in charge of sorting out trouble.”

“And you will
be again. Come on.”

I thought he
would want to undress himself, but in the bedroom he stood there,
arms at his side.

“Yes?” I
asked.

“You can
undress me if you like.”

“Okay.”

I undid his
coat and lifted off his shirt, stopping to kiss him as often as I
could. “Want me to take off your trousers?”

He lifted an
eyebrow. “I’m waiting.”

“Lazy sod.” I
unzipped his jeans, and pushed them down. His erection was pushing
against his underpants. “Want me to sort that out for you?”

“If you feel
so inclined.”

I knew then
that, however long it took, he would be fine.

I kept real
world pressures away from Nick as much as I could for the next week
and a half. His parents were inevitable, but I set up a video chat
on my iPad so he could talk to them ‘face to face’ while we walked
in Battersea Park. Harry and the others understood that Nick wanted
time to adjust, and my parents said they would all be welcome at a
dinner they were holding in Nick’s honour on the following weekend
at their house. Karl and the family were driving down, and Nick’s
parents were also invited. I hoped a week or more to get used to
freedom would prepare Nick for the onslaught of goodwill he would
face then.

The police
were also inevitable, but they were a lot more sensitive than I’d
have given them credit for, interviewing Nick in the house and
taking plenty of time over it. They were still collecting evidence
to pass to the CPS, but murder and kidnapping charges were certain
to be laid, along with a host of minor ones.

And despite
Nick’s fear of going back to hospital, he had to visit his GP for a
check up and a sick note. His GP was also mine, and knew that Nick
had disappeared and what I thought might have happened. But even
so, and even with Nick’s dramatic medical history and our GP’s
Iraqi background, the doctor confessed he was horrified at what
Nick had been through. He said Nick was in good physical condition,
considering, but should get as much exercise as he wanted, eat and
drink whatever he felt like within his limitations, and basically
spend a lot of time making his own damn choices and enjoying
himself. He readily signed him off for two weeks, and advised
seeing the police psychologist to find out if he would need more
time off.

Nick’s
sleep patterns gradually stabilised, as did mine, though he spent a
bit of time every evening sitting in the garden to reassure himself
that he could. I made
glögg
and kept it on the stove so we could sit together and enjoy
a little of the holiday we hadn’t had a chance to take together in
October.

“I guess we’ll
have to wait until next autumn to go away together,” he mused. The
predicted snow had arrived and looked likely to hang around for a
bit, and the temperatures at night were well below zero, but it was
strangely pleasant to sit with the hot wine in our hands, the
flakes falling on us, with warm blankets around us keeping out the
worst of the chill. My neighbours probably thought we were both
insane.

“Not
necessarily. How would you like to go to Brazil in January? Just
for a week—that’s all the time I can take off for now.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.
There’s a lovely guy I want you to meet, and this time, I can
actually enjoy my visit.”

“Sounds like a
great idea, if I can talk Thorpe into it.”

“I think
Detective Inspector Thorpe might be a little more amenable
now.”

Nick snorted
in disbelief, but Andy had told me that Thorpe had been hauled over
the coals for his lack of prompt response to Nick’s disappearance.
I hoped Nick would find another station to work at soon, but even
if he didn’t, DI Thorpe wasn’t likely to be at Richmond much
longer.

I begged Prof
Carter’s patience for just a little longer, then I would be back to
a normal routine. He was perfectly happy to agree, and delighted on
my behalf. I’d been so much luckier with my boss than Nick had.

Three days
after his rescue, Nick decided that he should get the meeting with
the police psychologist over and done with, because he wanted to
know if and when he’d be allowed back to work. I waited in a café
while he had his appointment, fretting the whole time.

I needn’t have
worried. He walked in, saw me, and threw his arms out wide. “I’m
not crazy, Mum!”

Two women at a
nearby table hastily set down their teacups and left, carefully
staying clear of the wide-eyed, grinning stranger.

“Now that’s
convincing. Sit down and stop frightening people. What did he
say?”

The
psychologist thought Nick could return to work in January after our
trip, but suggested he have counselling sessions as he settled back
in. “He also said that I was adjusting extraordinarily well, which
was probably because of the excellent emotional support I was
receiving.” He poked me in the nose. “That’s you, excellent
emotional support.”

“I should say
so. Are you adjusted extraordinarily well enough for the party on
Saturday?”

“Ugh. I love
all those people individually but so many of
them...altogether.”

“It’ll be like
our wedding all over again.”

He brightened.
“Can I wear the tux? Because if I wear the tux, you’ll wear your
tux, and you know I love you in that thing.”

I sighed,
secretly amused. “Well, if you insist. You’d better get your hair
cut though. Beth’s insisting that Charlotte wears the falsies
again, and wants to wear her heels.”

“Huh. Maybe
they should wear the tuxedos and we’ll go in falsies and
heels.”

I
reached over and put my hand on his forehead. “Are you
sure
you’re feeling well
adjusted?”

“Oh shut up. I
haven’t had a lot of fun this year, not even if you discount the
whole kidnapping thing. If I have to do it, I want to do it in
style.”

Which
was how Nick, Charlotte, Beth and I ended up at my parents house
looking like we had been invited to the Academy Awards, not a cosy
family and friends knees up to celebrate the return of their lost
sheep. My father opened the door to us. He took in Nick’s tuxedo,
Charlotte’s gravity-defying, full length, figure-hugging silver
gown, and tiny Beth teetering on six inch heels in a little scarlet
dress that she had to be
very
carefully sitting down in, then smiled at all of
us.

He offered
Nick his hand. “Welcome home, Nick. And welcome back to the rest of
you. Ladies?” He took Charlotte by his left arm, Beth by her right,
and led them into the house. Nick and I had to trail in after them
like the hired muscle.

There were
balloons. There was—vee friendly, of course—cake. There was
champagne. And there were photos. Lots and lots of photos. Photos
of Nick with me, of course, but also photos of the ‘heroes’ as
Nick’s dad insisted on calling us.

And there were
tears. Nick’s parents were probably the most emotionally damaged by
the whole thing as they hadn’t been privy to the plans and
investigations the ‘war council’ and I had been making. I wouldn’t
have done it differently, but it did mean they hadn’t had the same
distractions.

Fortunately
Nick’s dad really liked my mother, and my father and his mother had
hit it off since our wedding. The two couples spent a lot of time
talking in quiet corners. Nick and I bounced from one smiling
friend or relation to another, being congratulated, and doused
repeatedly in love and affection. There were far worse ways to
spend an evening.

I spotted Karl
and Andy having a long and detailed conversation in the kitchen.
“Oh God,” I said to Charlotte. “Karl’s got that look in his eye. He
has another film series planned, I just know it.”

“Featuring
fearless Sergeant Andy of the Met? I’d pay to see that.”

“Nick will
have a fit.”

She waved her
champagne glass over to where Nick was sitting with Beth on his
knee, making the children around them laugh uncontrollably. Nick
was having a wonderful time. I beamed at him. I loved the guy so
much.

“Anton, Andy’s
told me something about Nick’s case that I wanted to let you know
about first. I’ll leave it up to you as to whether you tell him.
Can we talk?”

“Sure.
Uh...upstairs in my old room?”

Mum had used
my former bedroom to stash coats and supplies, but it still had a
bed and a chair. I offered Charlotte the chair, and sat on the bed.
“What’s going on?”

“When Nick
said he’d been injected with a paralysing agent, I had a suspicion
about what it was. I did a bit of research and passed my suspicions
onto Andy. He called me yesterday to confirm I was right. Nick was
probably injected with suxamethonium, which is a drug they used to
use as a paralytic to help intubate patients. They don’t use it any
more as there are safer alternatives—except for vees. It’s the only
drug you can use in ISH-positive individuals for that purpose.”

“And they
found it at the Heartwell Clinic?”

She nodded.
“Burton claimed it was to treat vee patients, but they had far more
drug on hand than they would ever need for that. It’s probably what
killed that first vee, Murray Norwood. Norwood had a grandmother
from Tamil Nadu, from a racial group with a high incidence of a
gene which causes an enzyme deficiency and that leads to a severe
allergy to suxamethonium. I think Burton’s people injected Norwood,
who then died of overwhelming anaphylaxis because they were too
arrogant or stupid to be prepared for such an outcome. The arson
was to cover up the cause of death.”