Death Sentence Read online

  ‘Haven’t got time to swing by the hospital, have you?’ Steve’s tone was sombre.

  Hospital? Matthew felt a pang of apprehension prickle his spine. Why would Steve want him down at the hospital when he was supposed to be on gardening leave?

  ‘It’s Natalie,’ Steve supplied.

  ‘Natalie?’ Oh God, no. Matthew tightened his grip on the phone. ‘What happened?’ he asked, as if he needed to.

  ‘I might be wrong,’ Steve said, ‘but I’m guessing the same someone who wasn’t happy with Brianna talking to you wasn’t too happy with Natalie talking to you either.’

  ****

  ‘It’s just for a while,’ Matthew attempted to reassure Ashley as he pulled into the hospital car park. ‘I promise to keep in touch and let you know what’s happening.’

  Ashley glanced sullenly back at him, clearly not thrilled at the prospect of going back to the care home, which was where she should be now, if only the manager had been there. Matthew wasn’t prepared to drop her without assurances she would be watched at all times.

  ‘I could lock myself in.’ She made a last ditch effort to be allowed to stay with him. ‘I wouldn’t answer the door to anyone, or the phone. And I wouldn’t be any trouble.’

  ‘Ashley—’ Matthew parked up and checked his mobile for the fiftieth time. Why hadn’t that bastard rung back? ‘It’s just not possible. You know it’s not.’

  ‘Right, fine. Whatever.’ Ashley puffed out a sigh and sat huffily back in her seat.

  Looking like she should. Matthew felt for her. Like a truculent teenager not thrilled at not getting her own way. ‘It’s not that I don’t want you there, Ashley. I—’

  Yes it is.

  ‘What?’ Matthew did a double-take, sure he’d heard her speak, equally sure that she hadn’t.

  ‘Nothing.’ Ashley shrugged. ‘I could help,’ she tried again, turning huge, hopeful eyes on him. ‘I could cook meals and stuff. You have to eat. And I could, you know, just be there, in case Becky …’ she trailed off uncertainly.

  ‘Ashley …’ Matthew hesitated, not sure how to put it but exactly how it was. ‘She won’t be coming back unless I do everything the … person … who’s holding her wants me to do. I’m sorry,’ he added quickly, as Ashley immediately retreated into herself in that defensive way she did.

  Matthew debated and decided the truth, however distasteful, might be better than her assuming she wasn’t wanted, though following him everywhere but the bathroom, she actually was getting in the way. He needed to think, to be alert. He couldn’t do that with Ashley to worry about.

  ‘There are things he might demand regarding you, Ashley,’ he said, then paused and waited, hoping she really was as mature as she’d seemed.

  Ashley fell quiet.

  ‘Do you understand, Ashley?’

  Nodding, at length, she peered up at him from under her curtain of hair.

  ‘As much as I want you around, Ashley, and God knows I could use the company, I’m just not prepared to take that risk.’ Matthew made sure to hold her gaze. ‘He needs to know you’re out of the frame and, for now, the care home is the safest place for you.’

  Ashley’s eyes flicked uncertainly down and then back to him.

  ‘Besides, Becky would kill me if I let anything happen to you,’ Matthew attempted a little levity, but almost choked on the words. ‘Come on.’ Reaching across, he gave her shoulders a squeeze. ‘We’ll get through this. We just have to trust each other.’

  ‘Okay,’ Ashley’s voice was small. ‘But you have to promise me you’ll let me know what’s happening. I’ll go mental in there if you don’t.’

  ‘I will. I promise.’ Matthew mustered up a smile. ‘Right, while we’re in there,’ he nodded towards the hospital, ‘I’ll need you to stick right by my side. Right by it, Ashley. No loo calls, unless I’m waiting outside. No wandering off. Okay?’

  Ashley rolled her eyes and reached for her door. ‘You’ll be telling me not to talk to strangers in a minute. I’m, like, almost fourteen? I can look after myself, y’know?’

  Somehow, Matthew didn’t doubt that she could, despite the bullying incident they’d witnessed when they’d first met her at the care home. The pain in his chest was physical this time, as he recalled Becky’s face that day, the determination in her eyes. She’d made up her mind to try to be a mother to Ashley. Christ, what kind of twisted fate was it that would allow a woman who’d managed to smile in the face of adversity, who’d lifted his spirits from the very pit of despair, someone who cared so much, to suffer so much?

  His emotion threatening to spill over, Matthew swallowed hard and tried to compose himself as they headed for the hospital entrance.

  ‘Like the boots, by the way,’ he said, attempting some semblance of normality as they walked.

  ‘Becky bought them.’ Ashley’s eyes were fixed downwards.

  Matthew felt the knot in his chest tighten. ‘I gathered,’ he said quietly.

  ‘She’s all right.’ Ashley turned her gaze towards him, unwavering certainty still in her eyes. ‘I can feel it.’

  Matthew nodded, trying to humour her, though what he actually felt like doing was dropping to his knees right there in the car park and sobbing his heart out.

  ****

  ‘Sugar?’ Patrick enquired politely.

  She shook her head, her eyes huge over the duct tape. Pupils like saucers, Patrick glanced back at her interestedly, as he stirred the tea. He couldn’t tell if her eyes were blue or green. Somewhere in between, he decided, carrying the tea over. The colour the sea should be instead of shitty brown. She was pretty. He could see what Adams saw in her. She was wasted on him, classy bird like her. You could always tell a bit of class by the shoes.

  Personally, he preferred stilettos on a good pair of legs, but the ankle boots with the dress, and a fair expanse of flesh in between, were definitely sexy.

  Placing the cup, one of his best Harrods William Edwards fine china, on the occasional table next the sofa, he smiled, and then came to stand in front of her. Yes, very tasty, he thought. Not bad at all. Appraising her leisurely, he considered, and then leaned in to trace his index finger the length of her thigh.

  She flinched at that. Well, she would, he supposed.

  ‘Sorry,’ he apologised, holding her gaze, his eyes level with hers. Blue, he decided on the colour. They reminded him of his mother’s. His mother had that same look about her sometimes, he recalled, wide-eyed and petrified; tiptoeing around, trying to avoid the wrath of his father. ‘I wasn’t copping a feel, sweetheart,’ he assured her, though he probably actually was. ‘Don’t panic, your virtue is safe … for now. I was just admiring. I have a bit of a thing for legs, you see. Women’s legs, obviously.’

  Glancing down, he clutched her thigh lightly, his gaze flicking alternately to her face, assessing her reaction, and then back to her thigh, as he traced the outline of her taut muscle: down over the knee, then further down, gliding slowly over the smooth jut of her shinbone.

  ‘I prefer them in stilettos, I must admit,’ he said, his gaze finding hers again, as he squatted to wrap his hand around her ankle.

  ‘Have you ever noticed how stilettos give women shapelier legs?’ he asked conversationally, as he slid his palm back up her inner calf.

  ‘Like sculpted porcelain.’ He stopped, cupping her calf muscle. ‘Do you know why that is?’

  He looked expectantly up at her.

  As if he genuinely thought she might be interested. Repulsed, Rebecca recoiled inwardly.

  ‘It’s because women who walk in high heels exercise their inner and outer calf muscles more evenly than women who wear flat shoes.’ He chatted absurdly on, as if he were discussing something as emotive as the weather. ‘I read about it. Can’t think where.’

  His gaze was back on her thighs. Rebecca swallowed, fearing she was going to be sick, and then she would die, surely, choking on her own vomit. Oh, dear God, please help me. She sq
ueezed her eyes closed and gulped back hard.

  ‘Women who wear flat shoes exercise their inner calf muscles more, see. Makes them bulk, obviously.’ He turned his attention to her other leg.

  ‘Can’t abide fat calves, or fat thighs. Yours are not bad. Nice and toned,’ he said, working his way upwards again.

  Rebecca tried to keep breathing, short shallow breaths, attempting to filter out the sickly sweet smell of his aftershave, which was exacerbating her churning nausea.

  ‘Did you know wearing high heels can improve your sex life?’ He locked eyes swimming with innuendo on hers, causing her stomach to curdle.

  ‘You look surprised, but it’s true. It’s been scientifically proven that the muscles are more relaxed when women wear high heels. Makes sense they’d be relaxed during sex then, don’t y’think. Are yours?’ He cocked his head to one side. ‘Does hubby do it for you, Rebecca? Does he make you come, hey?’

  Rebecca looked away, desperately trying to hold back her tears.

  He reached her inner thigh, the clammy soft palm of his hand coming to rest there. Rebecca tried not to react, to supress the moan that was climbing her throat. Her hands still tied behind her, she’d stand no chance of fighting him off, though she would die trying. From the look in his flat grey eyes— deep-rooted, dark evil—she was sure that was exactly what the vile bastard wanted.

  ‘I thought we might test it out. See how relaxed you can be. What do you think?’

  He waited.

  Her heart thrumming rapidly inside her, Rebecca prayed silently, hoping against hope that he might have some shred of humanity.

  ‘Later, though,’ he said, standing abruptly, ‘when hubby’s here to see. Wouldn’t want him to miss out on all the fun, would we?’

  Rebecca’s gaze shot back to his face.

  He smirked, an ugly distorted smirk, the bruising and swelling to his jaw adding to his grotesqueness.

  ‘I see I have your attention,’ he said, sliding his hands casually into his trouser pockets. ‘In case you’re wondering, which obviously you would be, I’m banking on him riding to your rescue, sweetheart. The thing with Matthew Adams is he just doesn’t know when to give up, see? Persistent bugger, he is, a constant thorn in my side, trying to outwit me, trip me up, either that or fit me up, tosser. Dead irritating, he is. Even as a kid, he refused to back down. Got me into some serious grief with my old man, I can tell you.’

  Shaking his head, he turned to walk over to the full length mirror adorning the wall, where he paused. His back to her, as he adjusted his tie and smoothed down his hair, Rebecca took the opportunity to glance hurriedly around, trying to imagine where she might be. In some luxury apartment that much was clear from the plush furnishings, but it could be any apartment anywhere. In London still, she guessed, but the blindfold he’d forced her to wear on the journey had ensured she had no idea where. She looked him over, taking in his designer clothes and well-groomed appearance, as he went through some obscene, self-obsessed ritual: adjusting his tie, yet again, checking his shirt collar, the cuffs. Even his fingernails were manicured and spotless. Rebecca couldn’t help but notice those as he’d pawed her. He seemed to be in no need of money. What did he want then? She tried to make sense of it, to assimilate, to think of anything she might use to dissuade this obviously sick individual from whatever sadistic action he seemed intent on.

  Snapping her gaze away as he turned suddenly back to face her, she tried to stay calm. If she were to panic, to react, God only knew what that might drive him to do.

  ‘Oh, dear, you haven’t drunk your tea,’ he observed, strolling back towards her. ‘But then, I suppose you’d find it a bit difficult with tape stuck all over your pretty little face, wouldn’t you? Brace yourself, sweetheart. This might hurt a bit.’

  ****

  ‘Don’t move, Ashley.’ Matthew fixed his gaze hard on hers. ‘Stay right there, where I can see you, OK?’

  The querulous look was back, he noted. ‘Matthew, I’ve got the message.’ She sighed. ‘I’m not a six-year-old.’

  ‘I know,’ Matthew conceded. If he wanted her to act like an adult, he supposed he should be treating her like one. ‘Just—’

  ‘Don’t move. Yes, I’ve got it.’ Ashley rolled her eyes, adjusted her earphones and turned her attention back to her phone.

  ‘I’ll be on the other side of that door. If anyone approaches you, you come straight in, pronto.’

  ‘I will,’ Ashley assured him.

  Still Matthew was hesitant. Checking the hospital corridor, he’d established the nurses’ station was only yards away, but even having extracted promises, he doubted the two nurses on duty and up to their eyes would be able to watch her every second. Not knowing what to expect, what condition Natalie might be in, Matthew would rather Ashley didn’t go in with him, though.

  ‘Matthew, go.’ Ashley eyeballed him exasperatedly as he prevaricated. ‘The sooner you’re in, the sooner we can leave, yes?’

  Such was the infallible logic of teenagers. Relieved that she seemed to be acting as near to normal as possible, Matthew nodded and turned to the side room, trepidation mounting inside him as to what he would find on the other side of that door.

  Steve opened it, as he reached for the handle. ‘All right, boss?’ He looked him over worriedly.

  ‘I think we can dispense with the “boss” bit, Steve.’ Matthew’s smile was strained.

  Steve nodded and then inclined his head, indicating the bed behind him.

  ‘She’s just come round.’ His expression was grim, at best.

  Matthew glanced past him. ‘Has she said anything?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Steve shrugged despondently. ‘But then, the state she’s in …’

  Guessing what that meant, Matthew braced himself. ‘Keep an eye on Ashley, will you?’ he asked, nodding towards the viewing window in the door.

  His heart sank as he approached the bed. Her face was deathly pale against the white of the sheets, her eyes and lips swollen, her cheek—probably broken.

  ‘What did you walk into this time, Natalie?’ he asked her softly. ‘An articulated lorry?’

  Natalie turned her head slightly towards him, wincing as she did.

  ‘Don’t try to move,’ Matthew urged her. Then, seating himself carefully on the edge of the bed, he took hold of the hand that wasn’t stuffed full of tubes. ‘Was it him, Nat?’

  Natalie didn’t answer, but the slow tears that trickled from the corner of her eyes told Matthew all he needed to know. He couldn’t promise her he would pull him in. That wasn’t going to happen. If it was the last thing he did, Matthew intended to make sure Sullivan never had the benefit of a solicitor or bars to protect him ever again, but … ‘He’ll get what’s coming to him, Natalie,’ he promised her instead, his voice cracking. ‘I give you my word.’

  Natalie nodded, a small nod, leaving Matthew hoping she’d got some small comfort from knowing that he meant it. And he did. As God was his witness, Matthew intended to make good his promise.

  ‘Try to get some sleep.’ He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. ‘I’ll drop by later. See how you’re doing.’

  Steve eyed him questioningly as he walked back towards him.

  Wondering how this was going to play out, Matthew guessed, motioning him outside.

  ‘Take a statement as soon as she’s ready to give one,’ he said, for protocol’s sake, once they were in the corridor.

  ‘Will do.’ Steve furrowed his brow thoughtfully. ‘Er, Matthew,’ he hesitated, ‘can I just ask, because … Well, if there’s anything I need to know …’

  Matthew glanced at Steve curiously.

  ‘Are you and Natalie, erm …’ Looking uncomfortable, Steve nodded towards the side room door ‘… you know?’

  Getting the gist, Matthew stared at him, incredulous. ‘No, Steve, categorically not,’ he assured him. ‘I offer an ear, that’s all. It helps to be a friend sometimes, rather than a copper. It’s about
trust, Steve. There’s a line though. You’ll learn.’

  Steve nodded slowly. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Not sure Lindsey’s going to be very impressed if I go around befriending pro …’ Glancing over to where Ashley was slouched against the wall, Steve caught himself ‘… working girls.’

  ‘No.’ Matthew smiled half-heartedly. ‘Comes with the job, though, Steve. Just keep your wits about you. Look, I’ve got to go.’ He glanced at his phone again. Still no call. What sadistic game was Sullivan playing? Matthew’s throat tightened. What he’d done to Natalie was a warning, a message the piece of scum knew he’d be sure to get. Matthew had no doubt about that.

  ‘Nothing on the nail-file yet,’ Steve filled him in as to where they were at with forensics. ‘Nicky’s backed up, but she said she’d do her best.’

  ‘Right.’ Matthew nodded distractedly.

  ‘There’s something else though,’ Steve went on. ‘Natalie’s shoe was missing.’

  ‘And?’ Matthew eyed him curiously, and then glanced at Ashley, who was now trying to get his attention. ‘One minute,’ he mouthed in her direction.

  ‘That link I was telling you about, there’s another case: similar MO to Brianna. A couple of years ago,’ Steve supplied cryptically, clearly mindful of the teenager in their midst. ‘I’ll fill you in later.’

  Matthew nodded, his heart plummeting further as he realised the implication. Another case meant what had happened to Brianna had definitely been planned and executed, which meant, with or without evidence, that Sullivan fell into the category serial killer. Matthew felt the meagre contents of his stomach turn over.

  ‘Keep me posted,’ he said tightly, turning to escort Ashley along the corridor and as far away from all this as possible.

  ‘We’ll have to go later,’ Ashley said, as they exited the hospital.

  Matthew wasn’t listening. He was trying to get his head around what was happening, hopelessly trying to get into Sullivan’s mind-set. What did he want with Becky? In exchange for what? A fresh wave of panic clutched at his stomach as he acknowledged that an exchange might not be Sullivan’s game plan. Was it purely personal, he wondered? Was it him he wanted? If so, why not just have chosen his moment and taken him out. A single shot would have done it, or a well-aimed car, the bastard. The dead of night, a quiet street: that was more Sullivan’s style, until now. None of this made sense. Suddenly Sullivan seemed as unpredictable as he’d once been predictable. As if something had tipped him over the edge, making him careless of the consequences of his actions. And that thought frightened Matthew more than anything.