‘What I don’t understand,’ Adele said, ‘is why did Daniel Hartley then went on to get married and have kids and have a decent job while Debbie continued to live in the shadows?’
‘Well, she’s not exactly playing with a full deck of cards, is she?’ Pat said. ‘It sounds like she needed her brother in order to function. Without her parents she latched on to Daniel and spent her life waiting for him to be released.’
‘She must have thought all her Christmases had come at once when he came out three years early.’
‘Don’t you think it’s a bit sick that Daniel named his son after his previous identity? It’s a bit like sticking two-fingers up to Felix Myers and his family. I don’t think I would have liked Daniel Hartley,’ Pat said. ‘He sounds cocky and, well, to be honest, a complete shit.’
‘But he didn’t deserve to be hacked to death. Neither did his wife and daughter.’
‘I think we can discount Debbie as being the killer though. Her life was her brother and his family. Without them, she’s nothing.’
‘You’re quiet in the back, Matilda. What are you thinking?’ Adele asked.
‘I’m thinking that I’d love to know what happened to Wesley Brigstone.’
The car fell silent. They were all thinking roughly the same thing – If Thomas Downy, now Daniel Hartley, immediately broke his licence and contacted his sister, did he contact his partner in crime too? If so, was he in Debbie’s life now without her knowing it? She could be in danger without realizing it.
SIXTY-ONE
Matilda asked Adele to drop her off at the Northern General Hospital. She had sent a text to Scott on the way back from Manchester but he hadn’t replied. She wanted to assume he had simply turned his phone off as he was in the hospital, but her overactive mind had a life of its own. She was worried Rory had died from his injuries, and Scott was dealing with the aftermath all on his own.
Matilda battled the stiff breeze and light drizzle as she walked up the steep hill to the main entrance of the hospital. By the time she reached the doors she was windswept and soaked.
She was directed to ICU, where she found a shattered-looking Scott pacing in the corridor just outside the unit.
‘Scott, what’s happened?’ Matilda asked, reading his tired expression.
‘I’m just having a breather,’ he replied.
‘How’s Rory?’
‘He’s fine. They thought he might have swelling of the brain but he hasn’t and there was very little internal bleeding.’
‘So he’s going to be OK?’
‘It seems so. They’re going to run some more tests when he wakes up but they think so.’ He gave a brief smile.
Matilda sighed and visibly relaxed. She would have jumped for joy if she hadn’t been so emotionally drained. ‘Where’s his family?’
‘They’re through there,’ he pointed to the double doors. ‘His parents are livid. They want to know how he managed to be attacked in a police station. I’ve told them to contact the ACC but to wait until Rory is conscious and their emotions aren’t all over the place. I think I’ve managed to calm them down.’
‘Scott, you’re a star.’
‘I’m bloody knackered.’
‘Look, I’ll get off home. I don’t think my presence will help if they’re still at the stage where they’re looking for an argument. Tell them you’re going home too and get some sleep. I’ll get a uniform to come and spend the night here.’
‘Are you sure? I don’t mind staying.’ Scott was obviously worried for his friend and colleague but he looked dead on his feet.
‘I’m sure.’
Matilda left the unit and was crying before the lift reached the ground floor. Relief. She was thankful the rain was falling heavier as she left the hospital. It would disguise her tears. She stood in the car park and looked for her car before remembering she had been dropped off by Adele.
Matilda was sure the taxi driver had been trying to make conversation but she hadn’t registered. He dropped her off outside the police station and she passed a ten pound note through the gap in the partition. He didn’t give her any change, not that she waited for any.
There were very few staff around as most of the offices were shrouded in darkness. Matilda made her way along the quiet corridors to the CID suite. She turned on the lights and listened as they clicked and flickered into life. She surveyed the open-plan office: the mess on the desks; the mismatched chairs; the dying pot plants; the damp patches on the ceiling, and the nasty, stained carpet tiles. It was still more welcoming than an empty house.
Her small office was cold so she kept her jacket on. She powered up her computer and looked through the messages left on her desk. She read a brief note from Faith Easter in her scribbled handwriting about a boy called Malcolm Preston (a name she had heard before, but couldn’t remember where) and put it to one side.
Matilda looked at the blank computer screen and had no idea where to begin. She wanted to know what name Wesley Brigstone now lived under and where he was, and she needed confirmation Debbie Hartley really was Catherine Downy.
She looked up at the loud, ticking clock on the wall. It was almost midnight. It was going to be a very long night.
SIXTY-TWO
‘Have you been here all night?’ Sian asked, shaking Matilda awake softly by the shoulders.
Matilda opened her eyes and sat up in her chair. Every bone and muscle in her body ached from being bent over her desk for the past few hours. She noticed drool on a sheet of paper in front of her and quickly hid it away.
‘What? Yes, I think so,’ she replied, dazed.
‘Here, have this,’ Sian placed a large takeaway latte from Costa in front of her.
‘Sian, you’re a lifesaver. I owe you one.’ She took off the lid and inhaled the
