Staring at the monitor behind him, Alicia’s heart froze. Realisation hitting her with the full force of the impact that had occurred on the darkest day of her life, she gripped the reception desk hard. ‘I didn’t know he had a new car.’ She forced the words out lightly.
The security guard glanced back at her. ‘That’s his usual car. He’s been driving a rental while it’s been in the workshop. Prefers his Discovery though, he said. Personally, I prefer the Range Rover Evoque. Production’s slowing off a bit now though, apparently, to make way for the new model.’ He twirled back towards her, obviously on a roll on the subject of cars. ‘It’s a shame. I reckon the Evoque’s more reliable. Mine’s never been in the workshop yet. Then again, you won’t catch me driving like a madman. Treat your car with a bit of respect and she’ll run as sweet as a nut, that’s what I told him.’
‘He does tend to hare around, doesn’t he?’ Alicia’s smile was too bright, her voice tight. ‘He’s a bit of a stickler for punctuality.’
‘Better to arrive safe than not to arrive at all, that’s my motto.’ The security guard sighed piously.
‘A man after my own heart.’ Alicia nodded in agreement and tried to keep breathing. ‘He’s probably in the shower,’ she said, desperate now to get past him. ‘He takes ages in the bathroom. Fastidiousness is in his nature, I’m afraid.’
‘Tell me about it. He had a go at me for there being dust on the reception desk the other morning, like there wouldn’t be, with builders all over the place. I mean, do I look like the cleaner? I wonder why I stick this job sometimes, honestly.’
‘That sounds like Paul.’ Alicia laughed. ‘Sorry about that. I’m trying to train him out of it. Do you mind if I go on up?’
Narrowing his eyes, the man looked her over. ‘Go on then,’ he said, his face creasing into a smile as he nodded her towards the lift. ‘Good luck with that training.’
‘Thanks.’ Alicia waved behind her as she walked away. Then she fixed her gaze forwards, hatred for Paul Radley coursing through every vein in her body as she headed determinedly for the fifteenth floor.
Seventy-Three
JUSTIN
‘Don’t!’ Radley pleaded, as Justin allowed the sharp point of the needle to pierce his flesh. ‘Please. Stop. I’m begging you. You’ll kill me.’
Not yet, you bastard. That would be way too merciful. ‘When you’ve told me what you need to, Radley, then I’ll consider it,’ Justin said tightly. ‘Possibly.’
‘Oh, sweet fucking Jesus.’ Radley squeezed his eyes shut. ‘You really are mad.’
‘As a hatter,’ Justin assured him. ‘The opiates I’ve been taking after someone attempted to have me knifed to death won’t help my state of mind, of course. They tend to affect my concentration, I find. It’s probably best not to struggle while I’m holding a syringe next to your jugular.’
‘I don’t know where she is!’ Radley repeated the same bullshit he’d already spouted. ‘How can I tell you something I don’t know?’
‘Wrong answer, you piece of shit. I’m running out of patience. And you’re about to run out of time.’
‘For God’s sake!’ Radley screamed, as Justin tensed his thumb against the plunger. ‘Wait!’
Breathing in hard, Justin paused. He guessed from the gulp sliding tellingly down Radley’s throat that he was considering his options, imagining his brains spilling out on the concrete below, and realising he hadn’t fucking well got any options.
‘There are some keys,’ he blurted, ‘in my jacket pocket, hanging on the dining chair.’
‘Keys to where?’ Justin tightened his hold around his throat.
Radley gagged hard. ‘Her bedroom,’ he rasped, his hands seeking to release Justin’s hold on him. ‘The door on the right, in the hall. That’s where she is.’
She was in the apartment? Silent? Subdued? Justin could feel sweat tickling his eyelashes, prickling his spine. It took every ounce of his willpower not to plunge the syringe deep into the bastard’s temple.
‘I just wanted to talk to Alicia. I know she loves me. She had my child. She wanted to be with me.’
Justin’s jaw clenched, a new image assaulting him: Alicia, with this thing, who had no respect whatsoever for women. Being touched by him. Raped by him.
‘My child. My wife.’ A small tic tugged at his cheek. His hand shaking badly, he pressed the syringe home.
Calmly, Justin counted, forcing himself to wait the one to five minutes it would take for onset of symptoms. Once, he would have been shocked by the realisation he was an inch away from killing someone. They were fifteen long floors up. His skull would smash like an eggshell. He’d imagined, in his darkest hours, when dreams of his wife in the arms of another man had come to haunt him, how lost love could drive someone to acts of despair or even madness. How cold-blooded murder might have its basis in love, or unrequited love. In being unloved, spurned or wronged.
This man, gagging on his Adam’s apple, a man who’d begged for his life, had wronged him. He’d wronged his family. His children. He had to pay. Left to the law, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. There was no other way.
But what about Alicia? Sophie? Would they ever be able to live with the fact that he was a cold-blooded murderer?
Sucking in a breath, he allowed Radley to slide to the ground and then banged the terrace doors closed and raced for the keys.
Heading for the bedroom, he was in the hall when his gaze snagged on something he recognised. Stunned, Justin walked towards it and picked it up from where it sat on an occasional table against the wall: Luke’s pink elephant soft toy. Two images immediately emblazoned themselves across his mind: Sophie sitting on her bed after they’d lost Luke, the toy clutched tight to her, her eyes those of a frightened child; and Luke chuckling delightedly, his little arms flailing, as his big sister bobbed the toy in front of him.
Bastard! Justin clenched his jaw hard.
His limbs heavy, his heartbeat sluggish, he located the locked bedroom. Faltering for a split second, his hand shaking, he pushed the key into the lock and pressed down the door handle.
Seeing the light was off, he opened the door slowly and stepped tentatively inside. ‘Sophie?’ he said, only half daring to hope she would answer. That she would be capable of answering.
His eyes adjusting to the light, he saw a movement – a shape stirring on the silhouette of the bed.
‘Dad?’ she said weakly.
And Justin’s heart damn near exploded inside him. ‘I’m here, Pumpkin,’ he said, his voice cracking. ‘Close your eyes, sweetheart. I’m going to turn on the light.’
Oh Christ, no. Justin felt the walls slam into him as he looked at his baby girl, her long sable hair hanging over the hands she had clamped to her face. She was trembling, shaking all over.
‘He’s here!’ Sophie screamed suddenly, stopping him in his tracks. ‘He’s here!’ She prised her eyes open and then squeezed them tight shut.
‘No, Sophie, he’s not!’ His gut churning, Justin spoke forcefully but calmly. ‘It’s me. Just me, Pumpkin.’
‘I can smell him! Garlic,’ she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. ‘Garlic and lemons.’
‘It’s all right, Sophie. I’ve got you.’ Justin moved fast. With one arm supporting her as he sat beside her, he eased her towards him. ‘I’ve got you,’ he said throatily, pulling her gently into his arms.
‘I tried not to fall asleep. I tried really hard, but… the vitamins… they were floating. He didn’t like it. The study,’ she mumbled, her speech slurred, her eyes wide as she looked up at him. Unfocussed, Justin noted immediately, the pupils constricted.
‘I’ve got you,’ he said again, hot tears of frustration and anger wetting his own cheeks. ‘Breathe for me, Pumpkin,’ he urged her. ‘Big breaths in, long breaths out. Can you do that for me?’
It was the item hanging around her neck that caused his gut to turn over: a yellow gold locket, enhanced with a white gold floral motif.
Justin breathed w
ith his baby girl, tightened his hold around her. It was obvious. Blindingly obvious. He closed his eyes against the image that would be ingrained forever on his brain: SORRY FOR YOUR LOSS, scrawled in red lipstick on the mirror. He’d known it. Deep down in his gut, he’d known it.
‘The study,’ Sophie said again. ‘The photos. We have to get them. You have to see.’
‘Later, Sophie,’ Justin tried to soothe her. He needed to get her to the hospital, flush out whatever drugs she’d ingested. ‘We’ll get them—’
‘No! Now.’ Sophie attempted to pull away from him. ‘You need to see. We need to—’
‘Whoa.’ Justin stopped her as she tried to climb off the bed. ‘Wait,’ he said, standing carefully, easing her back down, making sure she stayed sitting. ‘I’ll get them. Promise me you won’t move.’
Sophie nodded firmly. ‘The door at the end of the hall,’ she said. ‘Desk drawer. Top and second.’
Justin moved fast, cursing as he reached the study door and tried a key that didn’t fit. Finally finding the key that did, he thrust the door open and went to the desk. More fucking keys. Justin searched for the right one. His gut clenched as he glanced at the contents of the envelope he extracted from the top drawer, but he wasn’t surprised. Radley’s reality was skewed. He was a sick individual who hadn’t been about to let the proof that Sophie wasn’t his daughter change his plans. He wasn’t surprised at the contents of the larger envelope he found there either – nauseous, but not surprised. Their family photographs. Stolen. Desecrated.
The photographs in the second did nothing to quell the rage burning like a fire inside him. Radley had watched her, stalked her. The torture he’d put Alicia through fuelling his twisted fantasy, he’d waited like a viper until they’d been weak, and then chosen his moment to strike.
Sophie was right: they needed these. It was all evidence should he be arrested, which Justin had no doubt he would be. Stuffing the photographs furiously into the envelope, he headed swiftly back to Sophie. She wasn’t sitting on the bed. Strong-willed as ever, she was on her feet, weaving as she walked to the door.
Justin caught hold of her, easing her again towards him, holding her steady.
‘You’re my dad. You know you’re my dad, right?’ Sophie looked uncertainly at him.
‘I do.’ Justin nodded firmly. ‘Just so you know though, I didn’t need the piece of paper. Whatever the biology, I’ve loved you from birth, Sophie. And I always will. Nothing can change that.’
Relief flooding her features, Sophie leaned into him. ‘Can we go home now?’ she whispered into his shoulder.
‘We can go home now, baby,’ he promised hoarsely, holding her trembling body a second longer before passing her the envelope and then lifting his beautiful daughter into his arms.
Seventy-Four
JUSTIN
The blue lights sweeping the road outside told Justin the police had arrived. He didn’t stop to ponder who had called them and why. His focus was all on Sophie – his aim to get her to his car and straight to the hospital. No one was going to stand in his way. No one!
Pulling her protectively closer in his arms, he shot a warning glance at an officer approaching him, who stopped uncertainly a yard off.
‘Get an ambulance here, now!’ someone yelled. Taylor. Justin kept going towards his car. Even as Taylor’s car careered to a stop alongside him, he was determined to keep going.
‘Justin!’ Taylor called. ‘Climb in.’
Justin didn’t pause.
‘For God’s sake, man, climb in!’ Taylor yelled. ‘We’ll get to the hospital a lot quicker with blue lights.’
Justin stopped. His breath short, his chest thudding, he watched Taylor spill out, yanking the back door open and gesturing him inside. Nodding shortly, Justin made up his mind, turning towards the car to ease Sophie carefully into it and then climb in beside her.
Taylor threw himself into the front passenger seat, slamming the door closed behind him. ‘Go!’ He turned to the driver and then twisted to face Justin. ‘Is she all right?’ he asked, glancing at Sophie as Justin slid across, wrapping an arm around her as she burrowed again into his shoulder.
No, she’s very much not all right. He looked down at her. ‘She will be. We’ll all be, hey, Pumpkin? Together.’
A slight nod told him Sophie was hearing him. She understood his meaning. He was her father. He would always be there for her.
Radley. His mind went to him, briefly. Should he just leave him? If the police presence here was anything to do with him, wouldn’t they already be up there, rather than here? Justin shut it down. Not now. He needed to focus on his family. ‘Alicia,’ he said gruffly. ‘I need to call her.’
Guessing he couldn’t access his phone in his pocket, Taylor nodded, twisted back around and pulled out his own mobile. ‘Number?’ he asked him, keying it in as Justin reeled it off. ‘Alicia?’ he said a second later. ‘I have Justin with me. He has Sophie.’
Turning back, he handed the phone to Justin.
‘Sophie?’ Alicia asked, incredulous, her voice choked, as if she was squeezing the word out through all the pain she’d been holding in.
‘She’s here,’ Justin assured her. ‘She’s—’
Hearing the wretched sob that escaped her, he stopped and waited. ‘She’s all right, Alicia,’ he said softly, after a second. ‘She’s right here.’
Sophie eased her head up as he spoke. ‘Mum?’ she asked, her beautiful chestnut eyes, dulled by drugs, seeming, at last, to focus.
Justin nodded. ‘Hold on,’ he said. ‘Alicia, she wants to speak to you.’
Cradling Sophie, he held the phone gently to her ear.
‘Mum?’ Sophie said, and caught her breath. ‘Mum? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t get it. I still don’t get all of it, but—’
‘Hey, hey.’ Justin squeezed her closer as she, too, broke off with a sob. ‘No apologies, Pumpkin. They’re not necessary. We’ll get through this. I promise you we will.’
Pressing the phone back to his own ear, he spoke to Alicia. ‘We’re on our way to the hospital,’ he said. ‘Just to check Sophie over,’ he added quickly. ‘She’s okay, I promise. I’ll meet you there.’
‘Okay,’ Alicia managed emotionally. ‘How?’ she asked. ‘How did you know where she was?’
Justin hesitated, his gaze flicking towards Taylor. ‘Jessica gave me his address. I went there to talk to him,’ he said, hoping it sounded feasible to Taylor. Whatever happened, he wanted to keep Alicia, and the fact that she was supposed to be seeing Radley, as far out of this as possible.
Taylor held his gaze for a long, hard minute, the look in his eyes dubious at best. ‘Strange coincidence, that,’ he said. ‘We were just about to pay a visit to Mr Radley’s apartment too. We had a 999 call from this geographical location. Cut short, unfortunately,’ he went on, as Justin eyed him questioningly.
‘Me,’ Sophie said. ‘That was me.’
‘Ah.’ Taylor nodded and smiled – for Sophie’s benefit, Justin guessed. ‘Well, that clears up the mystery. Don’t worry, Sophie, we can have a chat later, when you’re feeling better. We’ll be having words with Mr Radley in the meantime. I have officers on their way there now.’
Shit! Justin squeezed his arm around Sophie a fraction tighter.
Seventy-Five
SOPHIE
Finally at home – her real home – Sophie sat on her bed, not quite able to believe she was here. Everything was exactly as it was when she’d left. Normal. The bedroom, which her mum and dad had decorated, knowing who she was, was hers. She was an individual, with a mind of her own. The only thing out of place was her notebook. She couldn’t remember where she’d left that. In her drawer, she’d thought, but certainly not neatly placed on the dressing table. Her dad had done that. Not her mum. Her mum rarely touched her things. She’d once said she’d hate her to think she’d been snooping. Though she doubted her dad had been snooping. More likely it had been pulled out by that freak when he’d come
in here, touching her things.
An involuntary shudder running through her, Sophie pulled her knees up to her chest, closed her eyes and rested her head. And then she snapped her eyes open as her mind conjured up an image of him, the look in his eyes changing from fondness to fury like the flick of a switch.
Sliding off the bed, she walked across to her mirror, her arms wrapped about herself as she examined her reflection. She couldn’t believe how stupid she’d been. How utterly naive. How badly she’d misjudged people. She hadn’t listened to her mum or her dad, just made assumptions and then charged off to nurse her own wounds. She’d listened to Paul Radley instead, been impressed by him, completely taken in by him. She wasn’t sure she could ever trust herself again. She’d acted like a moody, selfish brat. And there she’d been yelling at her mum and dad because she’d wanted to be treated like an adult.
‘Knock, knock,’ her mum said behind her, tapping on the open door. ‘Penny for them?’ she asked, coming to place an arm around her shoulders.
‘Just thinking.’ Sophie shrugged.
Her mum eyed her warily. ‘About?’
Sophie hesitated, and then decided that maybe getting through this together meant being truthful with each other whatever. ‘That maybe I’m not as mature as I thought I was.’
Her mum moved around her. ‘We go through life growing up, Sophie, trust me. Learning from our mistakes. And we all make them. My gran used to say something, I don’t think I really got it until I’d suffered true loss, but when I was young, crying over something or other, she used to say, “Beautiful things make life worth living. Pain and sorrow turns to wisdom in time.” I think she was right. If you’re beating yourself up because you’re imagining any of what happened is your fault, then don’t. You have nothing to reproach yourself for.’ She locked her eyes firmly on hers. ‘You’re fine just the way you are: individual, quirky, caring and beautiful. You make my life worth living. Okay?’
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