Thursday's Child (25 page)

“Oh?”

“Calligraphy, isn’t it? A little unusual for everyday use.”

“Ah, yes. I always use one. My English professor insisted good penmanship would open doors to high places. Why the interest?”

“I was just wondering.”

Miles was in her face in less than five seconds. “You need to be careful what you see and wonder about, Niamh. Sometimes it’s better to be like one of the three wise monkeys. See nothing, hear nothing, and say nothing. Sometimes you should just drop things and walk away.”

It was as if an arctic blast issued from his mouth. Every hair on her arms and the back of her neck stood on end. Inside her inner voice was screaming,
get out, raise the alarm
, but she was frozen to the spot. “Are you threatening me?”

“Haven’t we had this conversation? Only it was the other way around? I don’t make threats, I make promises. And besides, why would I do that? And here would be a little stupid wouldn’t it? In a building full of lawyers.”

He leaned away as the door opened and Toby came in. “So I hear you’re getting remarried on Saturday?”

Niamh found herself able to move and shoved her robe and wig into the locker. “Yes, we are.”

“Well, all the best. Perhaps you’ll be a better wife than lawyer.” Miles walked away, leaving a frigid atmosphere behind him.

Toby opened his locker. “What was that all about?”

“Just Miles being, well, Miles.”

“Don’t lie to me. He was giving you grief over something.”

Niamh pulled on her coat. “It’s him. Same writing, same pen. And he warned me to drop it and walk away.”

Toby stiffened. “Go home. I’ll sort things from here.”

“It’s not your problem, Toby. It’s mine.”

“Go home, Niamh.” His voice hardened and his eyes glinted. “I’ll talk to Alan. This will all be over tomorrow.”

Can I trust him, Lord? Do I have any other options? I don’t think I do.

“OK. I’ll see you in the morning.”

****

Jared came home and tossed his jacket over the banisters. “Niamh?” There was no answer. The air was filled with the smell of cooking. He moved through the hallway and pushed open the kitchen door. “Hon?” She wasn’t there but the table had been laid for two and there were candles on it. He wandered over to the oven and peeked inside. Dinner was almost done by the looks of it and the two pans on the stove were simmering gently.

Niamh came up behind him and wrapped her arms around him. “Hey, handsome.”

He turned in her arms and kissed her with as much passion as he could find. “
Hey, good looking. What are you cooking?”
His singing was flat, off key, and he knew he’d gotten the words wrong, but he didn’t care.

She kissed him back. “Dinner. Roast beef and Yorkshire puddings, and all the accompanying vegetables, including cauliflower cheese.”

“Roast dinner on a week night? You’re spoiling me.”

“Well, you’re moving into Liam’s tomorrow until the wedding, so I’m not going to see you. I’m going to miss you. Although as it’s technically a remarriage, maybe that bit doesn’t count and you can stay here.”

Jared kissed her. “Niamh, this does count. You still don’t remember the first wedding or the first eight years of our marriage. But if you’d rather I didn’t sleep at Liam’s its fine. It’s not like we share a room or anything.” He winked at her. “Yet.”

“It’s OK. Patrick has no plans to move out for the foreseeable future so I’m not alone. Just wish this work thing was over. But it should be by tomorrow.”

His interest piqued. “Oh? You got a lead?”

“Concrete proof. So tomorrow, one way or the other.”

Jared hugged her. “That’s great, hon.” He glanced around the room. “Speaking of Patrick, where is he?”

“He’s gone over to Liam’s. He said we have two hours and not a minute longer. We do however have an armed cop in a car on the driveway. I’m also wearing a panic button.”

“That’s better than nothing.” He paused. “Hang on, wearing a panic button? Where can’t I touch you?”

Niamh laughed. “You’re quite safe I assure you.”

He nuzzled her neck. “I’m never safe with you around. You’re the blue touch paper to my heart.”

She arched her neck a little, giving him more access. “How did I cope with this before?”

“Me kissing your neck?” He pulled back and looked at her. “You’d usually reciprocate.”

“Work, silly, not you.”

“Oh, right. Well, you’d hide behind that nasty manner of yours.”

“I must have been horrible.”

Jared kissed her. “You could be. I loved you then, and I love you even more now.”

“Glad about that.”

“Me, too.” He took a deep breath. “Dinner smells wonderful.”

“Hopefully it tastes wonderful and you like it.”

“I like everything you cook.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere. Go shower and let me start to dish up. You have ten minutes.”

“Ten whole minutes?” he teased.

“Nine and a half now,” she said, laughing at him.

He headed back into the hall and took the stairs two at a time. He showered quickly and went back downstairs to find the candles lit and two plates on the table.

Niamh looked up from pouring the sparkling grape juice. “That was fast.”

“I can be,” he said sitting down. “This looks wonderful.” He paused. “This was the first thing you ever cooked for me.”

She looked over at him as she sat. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s always been one of my favorites.” He watched the way her eyes sparkled in the candlelight, then took her hands and said grace. He took a mouthful of the juice, and then put the glass down picking up his knife and fork. “I thought I was going to lose you. That shout shattered my world.”

She looked at him. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Hon, you didn’t ask for that car to hit you or for your brakes not to work. I just wasn’t expecting to find you in that RTC.”

“But you did lose me. Well, you lost the woman you married, the one you spent eight years with.”

He shook his head, chewing slowly. “She’s right here still. Oh, things are a little different now tis true. For example, she sleeps in a different room, but at least I don’t hear her snoring.”

“You beast.” she said poking her tongue out at him. “I do not snore.”

Jared laughed. “You see. That is your normal retort for me insulting you. Which incidentally makes you a beast’s wife.”

“Surely it should make me Beauty if you’re the Beast.”

“Ha, ha, ha. In that case, you’d better not make me angry, because you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.”

“Uh huh. Really? You turn green or something?”

“Yeah really or something like that. You’re still there, still the woman I married and am planning on remarrying the day after tomorrow.”

“Sounds good to me.” Niamh ate silently for a moment. “It’s been a rough time since the car crash. But I made it.”

He nodded. “Yes hon, just like I said you would.”

He picked up the glass again. “To us. To the happily ever after we both deserve.”

Niamh touched her glass to his. “To us.”

20

Judge Matheson peered over his glasses at Miles Kingsman. “Is that it, Mr. Kingsman?”

“Yes, My Lord. We believe that our witnesses will provide enough evidence that my client did not, in fact, kill Mrs. Luckett because he was nowhere near Headley Cross at the time.”

Niamh stood. “Can my learned friend prove this? Does he have a bus or train ticket? CCTV pictures from a petrol station? A boarding pass for a plane? Perhaps he wrote the threatening letter to Mrs. Luckett himself.”

“As I tried to explain yesterday, my client did not write that letter.”

“Mrs. Harkin and Mr. Kingsman,” Judge Matheson said. “This is not a tennis match to score points off each other with. There is a simple enough way to prove one way or the other if Mr. Jankowski wrote the letter, Mr. Kingsman. If your client is willing to do a handwriting test?”

“Anything to prove his innocence in this matter.”

Judge Matheson nodded. “And we’ll need a control to compare it with. Perhaps you’d oblige, Mr. Kingsman? I’ll read a line from the letter in front of me and you both write it down.”

Miles hesitated.

“You have a problem with that?”

“Am I being accused of something, Your Honor? Surely in the interest of fairness, Mrs. Harkin and Mr. Croft should write it out as well?”

“Sounds good. Mrs. Harkin, Mr. Croft, if that’s all right with you. I’d like you all to use identical pens. The clerk will give you one. Along with a sheet of paper.”

Niamh nodded. “I have no objection to this, at all.” She took the pen and paper from the clerk, seeing Toby do the same out of the corner of her eye.

Miles muttered under his breath as he pulled the lid off the pen. “What do you want us to write?”

“Tell anyone what you saw and you will die,” Judge Matheson said. “And then sign your names at the bottom.”

Niamh did as she was told. She stood quietly as Miles and Toby wrote the same thing. She shivered as the all too familiar slanted words appeared on the sheet of paper. She glanced up, catching his eye. Fear struck her to the core.

She raised her eyes to Patrick in the gallery, trying to silently communicate with him. The room closed around her as her throat tightened, making breathing hard. She reached for her glass of water, but Toby’s hand covered hers, stopping the movement.

“Mrs. Harkin? Your paper, please?”

“Sure.” Her hand shook as she held out the paper to the clerk who collected all of them before crossing over to the dock and took a matching sheet from the defendant. The clerk gave them to the judge.

Toby reached over and touched her arm. “I’m going to ask for a recess,” he whispered. “We need to discuss this away from the courtroom.”

“There’s nothing to discuss.” She pulled her arm away, not meeting his gaze, and then straightened. “Can you smell smoke?”

Toby nodded.

Niamh glanced up. “It’s coming from the vent.”

The fire alarm went off.

Judge Matheson stood. “If you’re in the public gallery, please follow the court official to the nearest exit. Court officers, please escort the defendant from the building following evacuation protocol delta.”

Niamh grabbed the files in front of her and shoved them into the briefcase. Then she headed to the door.

Toby ran beside her. “Take the north fire exit,” he yelled, raising his voice over the clanging alarms.

“Why?”

“Because the smoke is coming from the south.”

Niamh stopped running and looked at him. “You seem pretty certain about that.”

“No time to talk,” Miles said from behind her. “Toby is right. The north exit is better.”

“Then I’m going the other way.” Niamh dodged past them and ran back the way she had come. Footsteps and voices echoed behind her. She dodged into a side corridor and ran towards the east exit, the one that lead to the car park.

The smoke seemed thicker the further down the corridor she ran. She reached the fire exit and put a hand on the metal bar. Crying out, she pulled it away. “It’s hot.”

“Of course it’s hot, you stupid woman.” Hatred resounded in the familiar voice. She slowly turned around to see a gun pointed unwaveringly in her direction. “Now I suggest you come this way. Or you’ll die sooner than intended.”

I never dreamed of this scenario when I imagined how it would play out. Lord, please, work this for Your good. If there is any good to come from this
.

“Why?” She struggled to get the words past the lump of betrayal in her throat.

“Because you wouldn’t leave things alone. You had to keep pushing and investigating.”

“That’s my job. I thought it was yours. Or did you get a better offer?”

Smoke shot out from under the door, swirling around her feet then retreated as quickly as it appeared.

“The door behind you is going to blow any second. I suggest we move. Now.” He grabbed her arm, forcing her to run with him, back the way they had come.

****

Jared sighed as the alarms echoed across the fire station. He’d just got the engine clean enough to see his refection in, and now it was going to go and get dirty again.

“Fire at the Crown Court. Both pump and ladder to go. Make pumps twenty-five. Persons reported.”

The call sent a cold wash of fear over him, and he caught his breath.

Oh God, no. Niamh’s there all day today. And twenty-five pumps make it a massive fire.

His fingers shook as he climbed into his gear. He glanced up as Brad touched his shoulder. “I know what you’re going to say, Guv. My wife is there. There is no way I’m staying behind.”

“Then you follow orders. We’re not the only unit responding, and I don’t want you risking anyone. And that includes yourself.”

He jerked his head in response, climbing on board. The sirens rose and fell in their two tone wail as they raced across town.

“Time for more prayers,” Skippy told him.

“I haven’t stopped.”

****

The blast blew Niamh to the floor. She pulled her arms up to protect herself as a wave of intense heat flashed over the ceiling. A whistling sound accompanied the roar and crackling. Foul smelling smoke clogged the air, replacing what oxygen there was. Once it lessened, she scrambled upright and pushed open the door to her right. She didn’t care what room it was, perhaps she could climb out of the window and get away.

She shut the door behind her, fumbling with the latch, trying to lock it. She had to put distance between her and them.

Thick, choking smoke surrounded her, seeping under the door and pouring through the vents. It was so dark she could hardly see, never mind breathe.
Forget the door. Just get out of here
.

Falling to her knees, she crawled along the floor, the air slightly better there. Tears blinded her, her throat constricting, coughs wracking her body.

The door behind her opened, allowing more smoke into the enclosed space. “Niamh?”