He sat motionless for a moment, just staring up at me. I was standing, towering over him, but still I felt so lost under that intense gaze. He held the key to my freedom, to our life continuing as we knew it, and there wasn't a blind thing I could do.
My eyes skipped over to the photo on my desk, my heart splitting open inside my chest. Oh fuck, what have I done? Tears felt hot and wet behind my lids, and my body began to shake with the desperate need to sob.
Or just the desperate need to get to her. To make sure she was still safe.
I heard the detective rise to his feet, but I couldn't stop staring at the photo.
I'd made some decidedly poor choices in my life. Some causing drastic and tragic results. I'd lived with my regret. I'd paid for my crimes in more ways than a person should. I'm no saint. I've lived off the profit of illegal actions and barely blinked an eye.
But just when I thought I could stop it all. Just when I thought I could do something right with all the wrong I'd been a part of, I paid the price. McLaren was too strong, too evil for me to fight back then. He is still those things now.
"Who is she?" the Detective asked, his voice right at my side again.
Where was my shield now? Where was the confidence I used to deflect, to disguise? I'd led a cop straight to the most precious part of me. I showed a weakness that right now, with Roan McLaren in the spotlight, I could not afford. Fuck! It was a price I could never afford to pay.
"She's your daughter, isn't she?" he said softly, quietly. Even respectfully. "Yours and Costello's," he surmised. Correctly.
Fuck you, Rick. Fuck you to the hell you live in and back.
"I think you should leave," I said, turning to look the detective in the eyes.
Maybe I shouldn't have. There was something there that felt so right, when nothing could ever feel that way again.
Compassion.
Understanding.
Both of which I did not deserve.
Chapter 2
I Was Frozen To The Spot
"He can't hurt you now," Detective Pierce said gently from beside me.
I was rigid with a feeling I had shunned for more than five years. The return of the emotion making me anything but the "ice princess" my work colleagues teased me as.
Everything was twisting and swirling around me, like a tornado threatening to pull the very air apart. I ran both hands over my cheeks, trying to get sensation and blood to return, then clasped my hair at my temples and gave a little tug.
"Jesus," I heard Pierce say. "Here, sit down. I'll get you a glass of water."
He vanished once I was seated, but returned in next to no time. I'd missed a minute there somewhere. He'd have had to ask Suzy out at reception where he could get the water from, and then go all the way to the other end of the office to fill a glass in the lunch room, before returning here. But it was as if I'd blinked and he disappeared. Then I blinked a second time and he came back.
"Drink this," he ordered, handing me a cool glass of water. I obeyed the command without a thought. "That's it," he encouraged, crouching down beside me. "And another sip."
I followed his instructions as though they were a lifeline. One sip after another, as he sat beside me, one hand along the back of my chair, the other across the desk's surface in front. He was surrounding me, and rather than feel claustrophobic, which was a normal response when anyone other than Daisy got too close, I felt... safe.
"You're doing great, Marie," he murmured softly at my side. "That's it, just one more sip and then things will be all right."
They wouldn't be. I knew this with a certainty. But still I did what he suggested and waited for the world to right itself.
My hand shook as I reached out to place the glass on my desk. Detective Pierce wrapped a warm, large palm around my wrist and helped to steady my grip. He took a fraction longer than necessary to release his grasp. We both sat there silently for a moment. Neither willing to break the tension that spanned between us. I couldn't tell if the result would be good or bad.
"Is she gonna be OK?" Suzy asked from the door.
My back automatically straightened and I turned to face the girl with a smile on my face.
"I'm fine, Suze. Just a headache, nothing more. The detective was kind enough to help me with a glass of water."
I could feel his surprised and intrigued gaze on my face. My cheeks heated from the obvious lie I'd just so easily spoken in his presence. Something I have been able to do successfully to hide the fear in the past. But with this man right now I felt exposed, despite my efforts to shield with familiar confidence.
"Do you need an Aspirin?" Suzy asked, standing tentatively at the threshold to the room. I was betting she was feeling bad about sending the cop into my office when I'd requested a few minutes reprieve first.
I sucked in a fortifying breath, thanked the powers that be for Suzy's presence, and offered a reassuring smile and nod of my head.
"A good idea, Suze." I stood again, making the cop come to his feet as well. "The detective was just leaving. If you could show him out, I'll grab some medication from the lunch room."
A huff of a breath escaped Pierce's lips. He was still standing too close, so I heard the soft incredulous exhalation. I flicked him a challenging look. Suzy's appearance had given me the impetus I needed to don my shield again. With a confident smile, I offered Detective Pierce my hand to shake. A more clear message for him to leave I could not have given.
I expected him to take my hand, to slink away as my tone had implied he should. Not too many men can stand up to the ice princess treatment. It's what has gotten me so far, in such a short amount of time, in a male dominated industry. Plus, I'm very particular with numbers, a must-have skill for any accountant.
Those working within the law and outside of it.
I banished that thought before it could crack my protection; my confidence. I was too close to losing it again, yet so close to being able to run.
"Ms Cox," Pierce said, taking my hand just as expected. I allowed the sensation of warmth, his large palm engulfing my smaller one gave me, to invade my body. Melting a little of the ice, but not cracking it.
My smile turned genuine and I saw a flicker of male interest in his eyes. Any other time and I would have been tempted to investigate that look further. But now was definitely not the time.
"I'm afraid we really do need your assistance," the detective said, making the small amount of heat that had reached my body, through his still firm grip on my hand, shatter. "If your office is not a convenient place for that to occur, then perhaps you'll accompany me to the station."
There was no third option. His tone brooked no argument. Either talk to him here or at the Police Station. Now.
I held his determined gaze and saw a different man than the one who had first appeared in my office. This man I could see chasing criminals. I could have played the illness card, made my headache - and I did have one - more debilitating than it was. But in a moment of unprecedented surprise, he flashed a challenging look right back at me. One that matched my own.
The bastard was calling my bluff.
Well, he could ask his questions, but that didn't mean he'd get answers. And now I had my game face on. I'd seen the real him; the focused, determined, take no prisoners, him.
Fear still left a bitter taste on my tongue, but I would never let him see it. I tilted my head, smiled knowingly, and pulled my hand from his grasp.
"Coffee?" I asked with my most accommodating smile. "Or tea?"
Without missing a beat, he replied, "Coffee. Milk, no sugar, please."
"I'll get right on that," Suzy said, already running from the scene as fast as her platform heels could take her. That's why she was still a receptionist. She lacked the balls to play with the big boys. Not that I blamed her. In a perfect world, I may have been content sitting at the front desk as well. Necessity had made me who I am today. And I really didn't know if that was a good thing.
"Well, let's start this aga
in, shall we?" I offered, indicating his chair on the other side of my desk with a flick of my hand.
Detective Pierce offered a half smile, that could almost be called a grimace, and returned to his seat.
"What do you want to know, Detective?" I asked, leaning back in my chair and crossing my legs. Even from his seated position across my desk he caught the flash of skin on my leg as I performed the manoeuvre.
Putty in my hands.
"Your husband," he said, no longer beating around the bush, and no longer offering the query laced with a gentle tone. It wasn't harsh, as such, just all business. Maybe he had my number too.
"Richard Costello," I replied, then threaded my fingers together in front of me, elbows resting on the arms of my chair.
"When did you last see him?" he asked, surprising me for a second, as I had expected him to go straight for the throat again. Working up to it?
"Over five years ago. I don't have an exact date." I did, but I wouldn't tell him. That night was etched on my mind and would be forever.
"Where did you last see him?" he asked, pulling a small notepad and pen from his inside jacket pocket. So, this was how it would play? He'd pull each sliver of information from me, until it all came tumbling out at the end.
"Wellington," I replied. Two could play this game.
His amused eyes flicked up to mine. "You wouldn't have an exact location, would you?"
"I'm sorry." I wasn't. "I don't remember."
The pad and pen were placed in his lap with care and he let a long breath of air out on a sigh. His gaze looking around the office, taking in my small, unimpressive artwork, the pot plants and the half-view of Queen Street from my window off to the side.
"How long have you been an accountant?" he asked, eyes on my New Zealand Tax Law books below the window.
"Twelve years."
"Did you study in Wellington?"
"Victoria University."
"Bachelor of Commerce?"
I nodded.
"Your husband was a Chartered Accountant as well?"
I could see what he was doing. I could see the path he was meticulously laying down. He was good at this. But I needed to be better. Just how I'd manage that, I didn't know. Because the questions he was asking weren't any that I shouldn't answer. But collectively, they'd be my ruin.
I knew this and yet I still couldn't stop it from happening.
"Yes, he was," I said, praying Suzy would hurry up with the coffees already.
"And you met at University?" A small smile tipped up the edges of my lips. These questions were a farce. He knew the answers to them already.
"Let's cut to the chase, shall we?" I said, leaning forward in my seat and resting my hands on my desk, still clasped. "You know a lot about me already. What don't you know?"
My chest ached with the speed in which my heart beat. I could play the part of a confident ice princess, but that didn't mean on the inside I wasn't a second away from erupting. Years of containing my reaction to my body's physical responses to a given situation, have meant I am adept at denying the flush that wants to heat my cheeks from the inside, keeping my respirations at a sedate twelve breaths per minute. All of this is achievable, but my pulse? That is the hardest to hide of all.
I willed my heartbeat slower. Even while I watched the detective as his eyes coasted over my carotid artery in my neck. He knew, but he didn't openly let on that he did.
"I'll tell you what, Ms Cox," Detective Pierce said, leaning forward in his chair too, eyes target locked on mine, face impassive. "I believe Roan McLaren killed your husband. I believe you witnessed it occur. I believe you're terrified of what he will do to you now, five years later, faced with his imprisonment and the fact you could testify against him."
His eyes flicked over my desk to the photo frame of Daisy.
"I understand your fear," he said, returning his gaze to mine. All he would have seen was a blank face. Nothing giving away what I felt beneath the surface. "You have a right to it." If only he knew. Truly knew, how much right I had to fear. "Whether you wish to testify against him or not, until he is sentenced, you are at risk. Your daughter is at risk. We can help you. Tell me what happened, Marie. If I know what McLaren knows, I can protect you."
Breathe. Just breathe. He's still fishing.
"You already know," I said, voice steady as ice. "You wouldn't be here if you didn't," I added. "Giving you details of that night will change nothing, except if McLaren hears I've opened my mouth." I shook my head. "So, no. No dice, Detective. I will not be another feather in your arrests-made-this-year hat."
"Marie," he started, but just then Suzy appeared with a tray of coffee and packaged biscuits. Whitcomb & Associates Ltd might charge an arm and leg for their accountancy services, but don't expect any of that funding to go into edible treats for their clients.
Pierce sat back in his chair with a frustrated scowl. Neither of us said a word as Suzy methodically set out the coffees and plate of cookies on my desk. I nodded my thanks, but returned my eyes to the detective before she'd even left the room. He was watching me, not the steaming cup of coffee.
"I guess we're back at square one," I suggested, taking a sip from my own coffee as though I didn't have a care in the world.
"What are you planning to do, Marie?" he asked. Somewhere along the way he'd dropped the formality. Hearing my given name fall off his lips was too personal for the type of conversation we were having right now. I wished he'd return to Ms Cox. Hell, I'd even take Mrs Costello at this stage.
I shrugged my shoulders. "Nothing." A blatant lie. I was planning on high-tailing it out of the office as soon as he left and collecting Daisy from school. Then grabbing our passports from home and heading straight to the airport to board a plan for Australia.
He didn't need to know that. The less people who knew now, the easier it would be to board a plane and escape.
Pierce studied me for a while, then with a nod of his head admitted defeat. For a brief moment I was disappointed. For a fraction of a second I had expected more. Then reality came rushing back in as he stood from his seat and cleared his throat. He was leaving. No more questions. In a few minutes I could make an excuse to my boss and grab my daughter. Make sure she is safe.
In a few hours this could all be a memory. Just like that night.
He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a card. Leaning down he placed it on the desk and began to scrawl something on the back of it. Then he extended his hand with the card between his fingers. I stared at it for too long, making him place the card on my blotter right before my eyes.
"My card," he said, unnecessarily. "And the name of a friend at a café around the corner."
My eyes flicked back up to his. What?
"If you need somewhere quick to hide, somewhere easy to get to. Somewhere just to gather your thoughts and be secure for an hour or so, go there. It's about the safest place in the city. Tell Genevieve Cain I sent you. She'll take care of everything else."
Everything else?
He turned and walked to the door, then stopped, his hand on the frame, his shoulders tense. I was aware I was breathing too quickly again, that sweat coated my upper lip. I just wanted the damn man to leave. Leave now so I could go get Daisy. Please.
"Good luck, Marie," he said softly, not bothering to turn around. And then he was gone. Out the door and out of my life. Hopefully for good.
I took a second, maybe two, to gather my wits, then snatched up my handbag off the floor beneath my desk. I shovelled in anything personal out of my drawers, placing the photo frame of Daisy inside with care. At the last second I picked up Pierce's business card, and slipped that in my purse as well.
Within ten minutes my boss had been convinced I had a migraine and I was hailing a cab on the kerb outside our building. Another eight we'd pulled up outside Daisy's school in Grey Lynn. Every step I took, I felt like someone was watching. From this morning, when I'd walked Daisy to school and dropped her off, until now, so m
uch had changed.
Could a few simple hours make such a difference? Was Roan McLaren already aware of where I was living, of the fact I had a child now? Daisy was my most precious secret, but she wasn't my only one. My hands shook as I waited in the school office for one of the staff to fetch Daisy from class. There was no hiding my panicked state. The receptionist kept flicking concerned glances across the high top of the desk she worked behind. But I could no further call on the ice princess now, than not hug my daughter fiercely as soon as she entered the office.
She squealed when she spotted me. My heart leapt inside my chest.
"Mummy!" she cried, releasing her small chubby grip on the adult who had collected her from class, and dashing across the space to jump into my waiting arms.
I just about broke down when her beautiful face nestled so trustingly into the crook of my neck. When she hugged me back as tightly as I did her. When her adorable stumpy legs wrapped around my waist and she clung to me as though I was her very air. Oh dear God, what world had I brought my daughter into? What world had her father left her to survive alone in? This was all of my making. Rick may have started us out on this path, but I sealed all of our fates.
Me.
I would damn well make sure she survived it.
I thanked the school office staff and clutching Daisy's hand walked out of the grounds, head held high. The entire short walk to our small two bedroom flat on Williamson Ave she babbled excitedly, thinking we were going on an adventure, or that I was taking her on a surprise trip to Kelly Tarlton's Sea Life Aquarium to visit the penguins she adored. I didn't put her right. For a few more moments she could live like a five year old should. For a few more precious moments she could believe her world was sweet and safe and secure.
For a few more moments I could live vicariously through her.
I nodded when she enthusiastically told me that the penguins at Kelly Tarlton's came from Antarctica. That they were called King Penguins because they were "m'jestic." I smiled when she advised, for the hundredth time, that she was going to work at Scott Base and study penguins when she grew up.
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