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“So I’ve been asleep for… ten hours?”
Hel’s face changed. She shook her head and said gently, “Ten thirty on Monday. You’ve been unconscious for over twenty-four hours, hon. I was really worried. We all were. You did come round a bit in recovery, but I’m not sure if you knew who I was.”
“Recovery?” I tried to compute what she was saying. “What do you mean, recovery?”
“Surgical recovery—they had to operate.”
“What?”
“On your side. You’ve got a ton of stitches. The doctor said… Christ, what was it? Septicemia and a delayed ruptured spleen, or something like that? What on earth did you do to yourself? Did you get shot?”
I suppressed a groan. Suddenly the drip bag and the strange pulling sensation in my side made sense. Stitches. Of course. And I was probably still doped up to the eyeballs, which explained the oddly distant quality of the pain and my muddled thoughts.
“No, this was completely self-inflicted. I stabbed myself on some kind of spike. Climbing a wall.”
“Of course you did,” Hel said. She was smiling, but there were tears in her eyes. “Of course. What else. Christ on a bike, Jack, I was so worried. I was so, so worried. I can’t—I couldn’t lose you too. Not after Mum and Dad. You’re all I’ve got!”
It was the same thing she had told me… how long ago? It felt like a lifetime, back in the kitchen of her house, before all this started. Now she leaned in, hugging me gently, and I shut my eyes, feeling her arms around me, hugging her back and wanting to cry—but not for the reasons she meant. Because it still wasn’t true—not for Hel. She had Roland, and Kitty and Millie, a whole new family of her own.
But it was true for me.
I had done what I’d set out to do. But nothing could bring Gabe back. He was gone. And now I would have to face my future alone.
I swallowed hard, and Hel gave a shuddering breath and wiped her eyes, laughing at herself. As she straightened up, groping for a tissue, a noise came from outside the cubicle curtains.
“Knock, knock. May I come in?”
“Sure,” I said shakily. And then the curtain drew back, and DS Malik’s face came through the gap.
My body reacted before my brain made the connection—a huge jolt of adrenaline pulsing through me and setting my heart racing at a speed more suited to escaping predators than sitting in a hospital bed. It felt like I’d been on the run from this woman forever—it was hard to make myself remember that I’d stopped running.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, a little tentatively. I pulled a face, trying not to show how her appearance had jolted me.
“Pretty crap. But did you—did you arrest him? Cole?”
Her face changed at that, cleared.
“Yes. He was somewhere up the road when we caught up with him, but thanks to your recording—”
“Recording?” Hel broke in. “What do you mean?”
“I take it you haven’t been on Twitter recently?” Malik said, a little dryly. Hel shook her head, puzzled, and Malik gave a short laugh—halfway between amusement and exasperation. “Your sister’s gone more than a little viral the last twenty-four hours. As if uploading an exact guide to hacking one of the most popular security apps on the market wasn’t enough, she then decided to livestream breaking into the culprit’s house. It’s going to make the whole court case fairly interesting. Christ knows how they’ll find a jury who hasn’t seen the livestream. But I don’t think we’d have a case against him without the recording, so…” She shrugged.
“What?” Hel said. She looked from me to Malik, bewildered.
I shut my eyes, too tired to explain, but remembering that split-second decision when I’d pulled Gabe’s phone out of the rucksack, turned it on, pressed record, and then slipped it into my hip pocket, with the camera facing into the darkness. I’d had no idea if it would capture Cole’s face, let alone his voice, or whether the whole thing might turn out to be a messy, inaudible dark blur. But it was that phone I had hung all my hopes on—that phone, and the homing beacon it was sending out to Malik, telling her exactly where to find me… and Cole.
And Malik had heard it.
I had been reaching for that phone when the arresting officer hit me, the bastard. Not that I could blame him, exactly. I should have known better—my work had taught me that if there was one rule about an interaction with edgy police officers, it was that you didn’t reach into your clothing without warning them what you were going to do. And then, on the run from the police, wanted for murder, what had I done? Reached into my pocket without asking him first. He couldn’t have known about my side. But he didn’t need to hit me so fucking hard. Presumably it was that blow from the baton that had ruptured my already damaged spleen.
“So… my sister’s cleared?” Hel was saying now, frowning. Malik nodded.
“Yes, I’m authorized to tell you that you’re no longer a suspect in your husband’s murder,” she said. She was answering Hel’s question, but she was speaking to me, her dark eyes shining with compassion. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Jacintha.”
“It’s okay,” I tried to say, but the words would barely come. My throat was suddenly choked with tears, and in any case we both knew that it wasn’t true. It wasn’t okay; nothing about Gabe’s death was okay, and I would never be the same person again.
“And are you charging Cole as an accessory to Gabe’s murder?” Hel was asking. Malik shrugged, not quite a don’t know but a maybe.
