by Clare Revell
****
Three days later, Patrick gripped Elle’s arm tightly and shuffled the short distance from his bed on one side of the ward, to Abbie’s bed on the other. He hated this. He hadn’t had a day off sick in his career. He hadn’t even taken leave in years and here he was, unable to even perform the simplest of tasks unaided. Unable to protect those he loved. Forced to stay in bed or shuffle like an old man.
“Slow down,” he gasped, pressing an arm over his abdomen.
“Are you all right?”
“First time out of bed.” Pain threatened to slice him in half and stars danced before his eyes. “At least we’re on the same ward for now.”
“Yeah. When do they move you?”
He sank gratefully into the chair by Abbie’s bed. “I was hoping they wouldn’t. But probably later today as I don’t need an intensive care bed any longer. Or a nurse solely dedicated to my care.” He closed his eyes.
“Oh, that’s nice.” Abbie’s voice carried more than the normal amount of sarcasm. “You finally get your lazy butt out of bed to come visit and you fall asleep.”
Patrick fought to open his eyes. “You can talk. You snore.”
“Do not.”
“Do too.”
She giggled. “It’s you that snores.”
Elle looked confused. “Did I miss something?”
“Only him snoring,” Abbie told her. “He keeps me awake.”
“Nope, it’s the bloke in the bed next to you.”
“No, it’s you.”
Patrick raised an eyebrow. “Elle, is she always like this? Or did she hit her head when she fell and change into a monster?”
“Pretty much.”
“Which one?”
Abbie laughed, then cried out in pain. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”
The nurse winked from where she sat at the end of Patrick’s bed. “Don’t make me come over there and send him back to bed.”
“I’ve only just got up,” Patrick protested. “Give me at least five minutes.”
Abbie scrunched her nose at him. “Before you go back to bed and snore?”
“Something like that.”
Abbie took a deep breath. “I need to talk to you.”
Elle looked at her. “We all need to talk,” she said quietly. “But is here the place to do it?”
“I want to,” Abbie said. “He said I should.”
“Patrick?”
“No. The man with the sword and shiny shirt that spent the past few nights standing at the bottom of my bed…well alternating between mine and Patrick’s beds. He said I needed to let you explain properly without getting cross.”
“That’s our guardian angel.” Patrick reached over and touched her hand. “I saw him. So did Elle, but he didn’t say anything to me like he did to you two.”
“I was angry you kept something from me.”
Elle took her other hand. “I couldn’t tell you. Even though I wanted to. I made a promise and promises matter.”
“Is that why you never had a boyfriend?”
“Yeah, because I gave my heart to your father and didn’t want to lose what we had.” Elle inclined her head slightly. “I have something to show you. Something you would have needed to see eventually anyway.” She picked up her bag and pulled out an envelope. “Here, take a look.”
“What is it?”
“Your birth certificate. Patrick hasn’t seen it either.”
Abbie read it, then gave it to Patrick. “You listed him as my father.”
Patrick read the certificate, tears filling his eyes as he saw his name, place of birth and occupation on the document. A lump filled his throat and he swallowed hard, trying to shift it. He’d never told her where he was born, she must have found out somehow, because she was right. Belfast, Ireland.
“Why did you put him on it, too?” Abbie asked.
“Because it’s a legal document and because it’s the truth. Because I love him, and because I wanted you to have the choice as to whether you contacted him or not, once you learned the truth.”
“Why?”
Elle reached across and slipped Abbie’s mask back on. “Because, squirt, I love you. And I want you to have freedom to make your own choices.”
“What’s that?” Abbie caught Elle’s left hand, pointing to the ring.
Elle turned to Patrick, a flustered look on her face, that he decided was downright cute.
He squeezed Abbie’s hand. “Things happened really quickly on Thursday, the day you fell off the swing. The fall did more damage to your liver and they had to operate sooner than they planned. I asked Elle to marry me. I wanted her to know I loved her, and I needed to know she’d be looked after should anything go wrong. That you’d both be looked after if anything happened to me.”
“You got married?” Her face dropped. “Without me?” She folded her arms across her chest, winced and pouted.
He nodded. “It was a spur of the moment thing, otherwise we would have talked to you first. We need to get a license and do it again, but yeah, Pastor Jack married us in the hospital chapel. Next time, we want you to be chief bridesmaid.”
“I’d like that. What did you use for rings?”
Elle held out her hand. “It’s Patrick’s college ring.”
“And I got a scrunchie,” Patrick said showing her.
Abbie giggled. “With this scrunchie I thee wed?”
“That’s more or less what she said. But you know what this means? Other than the fact I have to buy her a proper ring soon.”
Abbie tilted her head. “I have a dad. And grandparents. And uncles and aunts…”
Patrick nodded. “Yeah and they are queuing up to come and visit.” He closed his eyes, the pain building to a point where he couldn’t hide it any longer. “But I need to go and lie down for a bit.”
“OK.” Abbie paused. “So do I call you Patrick, Agent P or Dad?”
“That’s up to you. But Agent P is out. That’s a cartoon character.” He paused. He knew what his choice would be, but he wasn’t going to insist on it. “And don’t suggest Agent P to Liam…Uncle Liam either. Agent 3.14 is bad enough.”
Abbie looked at Elle. “And what about you? Ellie? Mum? Oh, how about combining the two words and calling you Mellie?”
Elle poked out her tongue and flicked Abbie’s ear. Patrick concluded that it must be a joke of some kind.
Elle shook her head. “I do not smell, thank you very much.”
Abbie giggled. “Isn’t that what noses are for?”
“I think I’ll leave you girls to it.” He slowly pushed up, stifling a cry of pain.
Elle steadied him. “Easy.”
The nurse came over. “Let me help. We’re about ready to transfer you down to the main ward. They’ve found you a side room. Soon as Abbie is ready she’ll join you. Should be a day or two.”
“Yay, no more snoring spies keeping me awake,” Abbie said, her eyes closing.
Patrick grunted. “Make the most of it, kiddo.”
“That’s squirt to you,” she whispered.
Patrick lay back on his bed. “No need to come with me,” he said to Elle.
“Abbie’s fine for a few. I’ll come see where they put you and pop back up here. And there is something I need to tell you.”
He looked at her. “Luke Nemec already came in and brought me up to speed. I know they’re going to arrest you, but it’s routine. You’ll be out on bail in no time.”
“Are you sure about that?”
He squeezed her hand. “Yes. Talk to Niamh…she works for the CPS. She knows how it works.”
“I don’t want to go to prison.”
He looked at her pale face. “It won’t come to that.”
“But if it does…”
“Then I’ll take care of Abbie. You’re my wife now and she’s our daughter. She’ll be safe come what may, and I’ll be waiting right here for you.” He paused. “Well hopefully not right here in this bed, but…”
She
smiled slightly. “Thank you.”
29
A week later, Patrick was home and bored. Even with the paperwork he’d persuaded Shay to bring him, the day dragged. Elle, out on bail for the next month, spent all day at the hospital with Abbie. His parents insisted he either lie on the couch or in bed. He sighed.
“What’s up?” Liam sounded as amused as he looked.
“What’s up is the fact that Elle and Abbie are in the hospital and I’m stuck here. I can’t protect them. I can’t work on the case. I can’t do anything.”
“Hey, you knew what was involved when you signed up for this. Four weeks doing nothing. And a further four weeks doing light stuff and working part time. And then you need to pass a medical before you can go running around, wielding your gun and fighting bad guys, again.”
Patrick scowled.
“Anyway, even if you weren’t on sick leave, you couldn’t do anything until internal affairs clear you.”
“I know how it works. With the charges against Elle and the drugs in my house and me not handing them over…” He sighed. The whole thing was a mess. The only plus was the fact that Shay knew about them and had at least written a report even if she hadn’t handed it in before the kidnapping, which happened that same evening.
Surprise support had come from Luke Nemec, who knew exactly how the system worked, from both sides. He’d also been kept in the loop and was still here, working the case with Shay and his boss, tying up all the loose ends and doing their best to clear both Patrick and Elle.
“Pi—you saved Abbie’s life. Actually, you did more than that. You gave your daughter life twice. It’s not every bloke gets the chance to do that.”
“I guess.”
“And you beat me in the marriage stakes, too. Jacqui reckons we should have eloped months ago.”
“Mum would love that.” Patrick looked at him. “Maybe we should talk the girls into a double wedding. Half the expense and double the fun.”
“Sure. I’m game if you are. See what Jacqui and Elle want.”
“OK. When I see Elle, I’ll ask her. Is Jacqui coming over tonight?”
Liam nodded. “I’m going to pick her up around six.”
The door opened, and Shay popped her head in and tapped on the wood. “Hey, you got a minute, Patrick? DI Nemec needs to talk to you.”
“I have several very long, very boring minutes I will gladly give the both of you. Come on in.”
Liam stood. “I might go put the kettle on. Keep up Pi’s fluid intake.”
Patrick scowled. “It’s my liver they used, not my kidneys.”
“Picky, picky.”
Liam left and Shay stood over by the mantelpiece. She looked extremely ill at ease.
A rock settled in the pit of Patrick’s stomach. Whatever was coming wasn’t good.
DI Nemec sat down. He put a file on Patrick’s lap. “This is everything. We found papers that prove Elle knew nothing about the drugs. Along with concrete proof that her father and adoptive mother were behind skimming money off the clubs. Although her mother wasn’t the mastermind, she was definitely involved in a small way. She was trying to get Elle out of there.”
“Hence the animosity towards Elle singing?”
“Exactly.”
“Strange way to try to help someone.”
“That’s just the tip of the iceberg. PJ Foster knew about Abbie and he didn’t get it from Mrs. Harrison either. She kept up the pretense of Abbie being hers right to her death. Foster found out from other sources. With that information and the fact Elle’s father had been a criminal, he had enough leverage against Elle to keep her working for him.”
Patrick looked up, shock and nausea running through him. “Where did he find out about Abbie?”
DI Nemec looked over at Shay and then back at Patrick. “Her birth certificate would be a matter of public record. From what I have been told by your agency, anyone can access it—it’s as simple as putting in a request and waiting a couple of days or so. We checked with the records office as they keep tabs of what has accessed and who by. Zeke Whybrow pulled Abbie’s birth certificate six months ago.” He held his gaze. “He found out who Abbie’s father was.”
“Me.”
“Yeah. Your boss and the Director of MI5 did some digging. Someone accessed your file about three months ago. About the same time the Harrison’s moved to Headley Cross. They tapped your home phone, you’ve had a tail. Pretty much every place you’ve been and every single thing you’ve done for the past few weeks and months have been tracked.”
A shiver ran down Patrick’s spine. He leaned heavily back on the couch. He’d been compromised. He rubbed his temple. He knew the name Whybrow, but for the life of him couldn’t think where from.
“It’s a fairly good guess it was Whybrow. What we don’t know yet is why. Chances are he did all this for Foster. But we can’t find him.”
Patrick looked up sharply. “What? You’ve lost Foster?”
“There’s no chance of that. Foster’s in custody and staying there. Zeke Whybrow has vanished. We have an APB out on him and Interpol’s also been alerted.”
“What are there ramifications of all this for me? Am I under arrest, too?”
“Fortunately you don’t use your landline for work calls. As far as we can tell, and believe me we’ve run search after search and dug as deep as we would into a suspected terrorist cell, you haven’t been compromised. As we speak, the Director has a team going through your house with a fine toothcomb. So, until we get this mess sorted, your boss wants you wired. Every single conversation, including private ones with Elle, I’m afraid.”
Patrick slumped back in the chair. “I don’t understand. They wanted me? They were using her to get to me?”
Shay spoke up for the first time since entering the room. “They knew your reputation. Who doesn’t? Knew you’d do anything to keep her safe. But something isn’t right here. Why dig so deep? I’m thinking it’s more than just something Foster ordered. This feels like it’s personal. My theory is for some reason Zeke Whybrow has a grudge against you and will stop at nothing to make you pay. Just like Foster was doing with Elle. Did you arrest him at some point...?”
“I don’t know. I recognize the name, but can’t place it. I need to go through all my old cases. Maybe I locked up a brother or shot his second cousin or pulled his grandmother over for speeding in a school zone or something.”
“Already being done.”
He looked down at the scrunchie on his wrist. “If this guy is after me, I have to send Elle and Abbie far away from me where they’ll be safe.”
“And that will prove what? That you care more about work than them?” Liam pushed himself away from the doorframe. He strode across the room and set the tea down on the table, spilling some of it. He braced his arms on the chair, shoving his face into Patrick’s. “Just what are your priorities here?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Last week you married Elle for better or worse. In sickness and in health. Till death do you part. And now you’re going to abandon them?”
Patrick sat upright, glaring at his brother. “I am not going to put her and Abbie in danger—”
“And why is it so different for you?”
“I’m sorry.”
Liam’s face grew red as he raised his voice. “You didn’t hesitate to send Jacqui and I to Africa because it suited you. We both almost died out there. I got hit over the head, kidnapped, tortured, tied to a chair, doused in water and then had electric current run through me. Not to mention swimming with the crocodiles, before you finally turn up with the cavalry. But I would do it again and again to keep Jacqui safe. And only a couple of weeks ago you were shot defending Elle and Abby. So what’s changed?”
“Don’t you yell at me.”
“I’ll yell until you get it through your thick head that it’s not one rule for you and another for everyone else. You put your life on the line for people you don’t know every single day. Yet, you would send
your wife away without letting her make the same choice to protect you? What you need to do—”
Liam broke off and stood up straight. “No actually, I’m not going to tell you what to do. You need to pray and figure it out yourself. Neither of you chose this path, Pi, God did. And He wants you walking it together. Just grumble to Him and not to us.”
Patrick sat there, stunned.
“He’s right,” Shay told him. “If someone got to me through Kevin, I know what I’d do. And it wouldn’t be leave him.”
DI Nemec chimed in. “I broke a few rules of my own where my wife is concerned, when she was kidnapped. But I’d do it again if it kept her safe. You have to let Elle make the choice. If she’s anything like Sara, she’ll be standing behind you with a rolling pin when you confront them.”
Patrick closed his eyes. Lord, I don’t want Elle hurt, but I guess she married me knowing who I am and what I do and the risks involved. I have to track down Zeke and end this. But first she has to know and it should come from me. He pushed up, grunting with effort. “Li…”
Liam glared at him. “What?”
“I need a lift to the hospital, please. My wife needs to be brought up to speed. Sir, I know you and Shay will keep trying to track Zeke down. I would do it myself, but I’m not meant to be working. When you find him, make sure he’s brought in. He’s not getting away with this.”
DI Nemec nodded. “I’m on it. But first you’re being wired.”
****
Elle handed the book to Abbie. “Your turn to read.”
“I’m too old for this,” she complained.
“Rubbish. I like hearing you read and I’m enjoying the book as much as you are.”
“Fine.” She glanced down at the book and began to read. “Darren looked down at the figure sixty feet below. “Don’t move,” he shouted. “I’m going to abseil down the cliff to you.” There was no response. He adjusted his harness and looked at Paula. “Find out where the backup is. I can’t wait any longer.” Before she had time to answer, Darren launched himself off the cliff, descending rapidly.”