‘A girl’s in a coma with part of her leg gone. Anyone with any decency and any information has a duty to come forward. I have no idea why you wouldn’t see that, Wendy. And why were you at the university the other day?’
‘I’m going to have to ask you to leave. If DI Sanders wants to speak to me, she can do that herself. You have no jurisdiction here.’
‘No problem.’ He takes out his phone. ‘I’ll get a uniformed officer here to arrest you. Marked car, flashing lights, all the neighbours watching?’
‘On what possible grounds?’
Matthew looks away to the window and decides to gamble. Hell. It’ll be on the news any moment anyway.
‘There’s been another attack. Linked to the Gemma Hartley case, we suspect. And so I’m going to ask you again. Are you working for Lily Blake?’
The colour from Wendy’s neck moves right up to her chin. ‘Has she been hurt?’
‘No. But we need to find her urgently.’ Matthew takes in Wendy’s expression. She doesn’t know, he’s pretty sure of that. ‘Her husband’s dead, Wendy. Sam Blake’s been shot.’
‘Dead?’ Wendy’s shock is clearly genuine – the blush fading and her face taking on an altogether paler tone. All her capillaries apparently in overdrive. ‘I’m sorry. I need to sit down.’
‘So you found out her husband was cheating? Gave her the evidence?’ Matthew moves closer to her desk.
‘Yes. But this isn’t my fault. This is what I do. What clients ask me to do.’
‘Never mind about fault. Just start talking, Wendy. I need to know the timeline. What exactly you found. And where Lily might be now. She’s not with her parents. Do you have any idea where she is?’
CHAPTER 55
THE FATHER – NOW
Ed presses the buttons on the coffee machine and watches, in a daze, as the sequence begins. He’s so tired. His mind’s still on the ward, taking in Rachel’s exhausted face, and as the first cup fires into position and the flow of hot liquid begins he realises that he’s got the order wrong. Too distracted. He’s pressed for two cappuccinos. Damn. Rachel wanted black.
Truth is he didn’t want to leave the unit at all but Rachel was getting in such a state. Another shooting? The day of the final graduation. They can’t believe it. Rachel wants him to quietly check the corridor. The lockdown security. See if there’s an armed presence, Ed. See if there are proper checks on the door. Please . . .
Rachel looks completely done in and he wonders how much more she can take. He’s found out from the nurses that she never uses the relatives’ room to rest. A lump forms in his throat as he thinks of what a good mother she’s been – has always tried to be. Despite what she went through herself as a child; maybe precisely because of what she went through as a child.
He genuinely had no idea about her father – the drinking and the violence – and wonders why Rachel’s mother has never said anything either. Their joint secret. All these years. Their blanked past.
He keeps rewinding scenes and watching through a new lens; all those times it drove him mad to see Rachel dismiss Gemma to her room to try to calm her down. Always shutting conflict down with her babbling and her baking.
Oh, Rachel.
The guilt over Laura is like this cancer growing inside him now. If he’s wrong, if Laura is in any way connected with what has happened, he will never forgive himself.
Ed watches the second cup zoom into position beneath the second spout. He’ll have to find somewhere to pour one away. Order a third? He badly wants to get back to the unit and feels a shiver of unease.
He waits for the drips to cease and then puts one of the coffees on the ledge to the side of the machine so he can order Rachel’s black one. Again the machine revs into action while Ed takes his phone from his pocket.
He’s already tried to speak to DI Sanders. That’s the real reason he caved and stepped out. He’s feeling angry on top of his guilt, seeing his wife so very upset. Never mind how busy DI Sanders is. Why hasn’t she phoned? They need to know what’s going on.
Ed starts to scroll for DI Sanders’ number and for the first time notices the date in the corner of the screen. He pauses and stares – and suddenly it hits him.
Friday the twenty-sixth.
It’s all been so much lately that he’d lost track of days, never mind dates. But as it dawns, he feels disorientated. For a second he’s not here at all; he’s transported back in time – Laura frowning as she places two alternative versions of their wedding invitation on the breakfast bar in front of them.