Her Last Secret

Is that what he thought? What he’d thought all this time? ‘That’s … That’s not true. You’re both as bad as each other. Both so stubborn, you’re …’ Julie had realised that she was talking in the present tense about her daughter, when it should have been in the past. But then she changed tack completely and her last words were intended to hurt: ‘You left her when she needed you the most.’

There was silence again, broken only when Matt said, ‘I think we’re about done here.’

About done. They were definitely about done.

Julie didn’t remember a lot of the next bit, probably because there wasn’t that much to recall. The pair of them being taken to a small café inside the hospital, away from the main drag and inside a little nook. Being furnished with more tea by the liaison woman, Matt insisting that they should eat something and when nobody replied buying them sandwiches anyway which Julie and Jake simply stared at like they no longer understood what food was, or how to process it.

How to process anything.

Every now and again they’d look up, at each other – accusatory stares saying everything that needed saying without words. A telepathic tennis match, words batted back and forth across the net.

Him: I told you, I said this so many times. That something like this would happen if we didn’t do something.

Her: And what exactly was I supposed to do? She was a grown woman … Maybe if you’d tried listening to her, talking to her instead of at her!

Then they’d look away, off to the side until it built up again. More arguments that would get them nowhere, because there was simply no winner of this particular match. They’d just go round and round in circles until there was nothing left to say or do.

And afterwards, when they’d dropped her off at home, she’d thought again about those scars. About what they’d meant, what had been on her daughter’s mind that had made her do that? Something serious? Something about Bobby, or something else? How had she not known? How could Jordan not have told her? Not telling Jake, she could understand, but her? She thought they were closer than that? After all, she’d been the one who’d stayed – who’d done her best to look after her when Jake just upped and left. Who’d always defended her, seen her side of things even when it was a struggle to do so. Who’d always tried to sympathise.

What did it have to do with the murder of her child? she wondered. A murder she’d only found out about that morning, which brought her round – yet again – to the beginning of all this. Remembering Matt at the door, her reaction … Going through it all again and again.

And sitting there, just feeling cold and numb.

Completely numb.

Chapter 5 (#ulink_ef38799f-76e0-52e8-be0d-4e9a00d72388)

His friends had been on his mind all night.

How could they not have been? Jules, Jake … Jordan. How could he just switch off and relax with the family, forget about it all, when they couldn’t? Apart from anything else, he’d been needed back at the station until late – and Katherine had understood that. It went with the territory, though it wasn’t usually as rocky as it had been yesterday.

Matt had swung by after leaving Jake (leaving him to get drunk back at the hotel!) and checked on Linda, who’d come to the door to talk to him in hushed tones, to answer his question about how Julie was.

‘How do you think? Not great.’

‘Yeah, I figured.’

‘How’s the dad? The real dad.’

‘’Bout the same,’ he admitted, telling her which hotel he’d checked into so she could pass that on, but leaving out the bit about the bottle he’d bought to take with him.

‘Poor sods,’ said Linda.

‘Yeah,’ agreed Matt.

She’d told him she was sticking around for a while, maybe even until the husband came back, because at least then she wouldn’t be alone – and Matt had thought about Jake again, who’d wanted, insisted on being by himself. How that probably wasn’t a great idea, but how he’d almost definitely sleep that night. Probably better than Jules would, especially with that pillock of a partner by her side. They’d said their goodbyes, Matt telling her to ring for a squad car when she was done, and he’d headed off back to the station to answer the call.

Matt’s boss, DS Channing, who looked like he should be selling used cars somewhere, or in a toothpaste commercial because he had far too many teeth and they were far too polished, had greeted him when he got there. With his slicked-back hair, and smile he kept flashing – which was very rarely genuine – he was a PR person’s dream, and had spent most of the day talking to and ‘handling’ the press with regards to this case. He had a habit, especially where women were concerned, of introducing himself as ‘Channing. Like Tatum …’ (Not that he bore even a passing resemblance) ‘Only better looking …’ (He really wasn’t).

‘The big news is, we got the prints from the knife back,’ he’d said to Matt, which surprised him because it usually took at least forty-eight hours. They’d been fast-tracked, Channing explained, and were pretty clean. They were also a perfect match for Bobby Bannister. ‘Now all we need is a match for Jordan’s blood on his clothes, and we’re sorted. You don’t see many open-and-shut cases on the force, Newcomb, but I think we’re looking at one here,’ Channing had concluded.

It certainly seemed that way. Wouldn’t be long now before Bobby was officially charged, the whole thing done and dusted. That should be some sort of silver lining for the family, surely? Shouldn’t it?

Matt couldn’t help putting himself in their position, in Jake’s position. Would it be a comfort to him at all if he were in that man’s shoes? His daughter – his estranged daughter – was still dead. It had been on his mind the rest of his shift, on the drive home, and when he let himself in through the front door.

Katherine had been in the living room, watching the TV, watching the news reports that were still full of the story. They were bound to be, it had only broken today and was the most exciting thing that had happened in years around here. Wasn’t exciting for Matt, though; wouldn’t have been for any of those reporters either if they’d had to deliver the news to the family. Although some of them had rocks where their hearts should be, so maybe it wouldn’t have bothered them one bit.

‘Bad business,’ Katherine had said. Katherine, not Kate, not Kitty; she hated abbreviations, his wife. Always called him Mathew, rather than Matt, and their son was Edward, not Eddie or Ed.

He’d nodded, then wandered over, loosening his tie and tossing his jacket onto a nearby chair as he did so. Matt picked up the remote. ‘Do you mind if I …’

Katherine, with her neatly cropped hair, still in her own work clothes – blouse and slacks, ironed to within an inch of their lives – rather than in pyjamas or whatever normal people might be chilling out in at this time of night, had nodded as well. She worked at a solicitor’s in the finance department, which was where they’d met initially. Hadn’t been anything police-related, but rather a hearing for his dad’s will, sorting out the sale of the family house now that both his parents had passed away. He’d bumped into Katherine quite by accident, and quite literally, on his way out. They’d both laughed, looked into each other’s eyes – like one of those crazy rom-coms he couldn’t stand. She’d been on her way out too, for lunch, so he’d chanced his arm and asked if he could buy her something to eat. That had turned into drinks and dinner some other time, and before they knew it they were living together, then married, then along had come Edward.

After changing channels, finding some kind of inane quiz show where the contestants were answering questions to try and win a speedboat, he’d kissed Katherine and slumped down on the sofa beside her.

‘Rough day, I guess,’ she’d said.

‘You could say that.’

‘I saved you some lasagne, just needs heating up.’

‘Cheers.’ To be honest, all he was thinking about was the couple of bottles of lager still in the fridge from the weekend.

‘You okay?’ she asked.

He shook his head then. ‘I … I knew them. The family,’ he admitted.

‘Oh. I’m sorry, sweetheart. That’s rough.’

Another nod.

There was a moment or two when he thought she was going to lean over to him, maybe put her arms around him and give him a hug – because, Christ, he could use one – but in the end she didn’t. She wasn’t the most demonstrative of people, Katherine, but she’d hid that well … at the start.

‘Eddie … Edward in bed?’

Her turn to nod again. ‘He wanted to wait up for you, but, well …’

Matt understood, it was way past his bedtime and routine was important. So he’d been told. ‘I think I’ll just go and look in on him,’ he said to Katherine.

‘Do you think that’s a good idea? He’ll be asleep by now.’

‘I won’t wake him,’ Matt promised and stood, making his way to the door. He looked back only once at the doorway, to see Katherine rising and picking up his jacket, brushing it down with her hands. And he thought again of Julie, her face – how she’d hardly changed that much. Then he thought about the tears she’d been crying, thought about her and Jake at the morgue, how they’d held each other, and his friend standing there at the entrance to the hotel where he’d left him. Then he’d carried on upstairs to see his son. Safe, in bed.

Alive.

As careful as he’d been opening the door to Edward … Eddie’s bedroom, the child had still stirred when he heard the noise. Not enough to wake up properly, which Matt was grateful for, just enough to turn over and face his father – something Matt was also thankful for. He studied his son’s sleeping face, eyes closed, content, at peace. Eddie knew nothing of the world or its horrors yet, the things people did to each other on a daily basis. But the time would come when he did, and Matt wondered what he’d make of that. Would he be shocked or take it all in his stride?

And Matt thought then about the fact that Bobby Bannister had once been a kid in a bed like this one, innocent and at peace (or had he? Matt realised he knew very little about their main suspect’s background yet). Flash forward a few years and, for whatever reason, he’d stabbed his girlfriend in the chest with a knife. Maybe she’d been cheating on him, a crime of passion – and Matt thought then how much of what was wrong in this world came down to love, to sex … either that or money.