As his eyes locked with Whitton’s, he smiled. Luck had been good to him; now though, it had run out. Maybe his time had run out too. He didn’t feel the prick, or the rush of liquid as it entered his bloodstream. He just kept his eyes on her as very quickly his vision blurred, his focus went sleepy, and then she was gone.
He could still hear the voices, the scream from Whitton to stop him, but it was too late. Nothing could save him now.
It was ironic, fitting in a way, that he be his own judge and executioner.
Epilogue
Whitton lounged on the couch with her feet up on the table as Rachel pottered around the kitchen making tea for them all. Sophie’s mother had arrived late the previous night, and this was the first real opportunity they had had to speak.
“I can’t believe that you used Rachel’s dear little cottage to capture your prey,” Gaynor Whitton said with a wry smile of her face. She knew all too well that her daughter would always do whatever it took to catch her man.
“It wasn’t like I didn’t ask for permission first,” Sophie argued, looking up to catch the raised brow of her lover as she worked at the counter. “Okay, so I didn’t quite explain my plan, but to be fair, I hadn’t actually worked it all out at that point.”
“True, you got lucky there,” her mother agreed quickly, receiving a glare in return.
“It all worked out just as we planned, in the end. Turner wasn’t happy about using Galahad, but he’d agreed to it. Seems he really has reformed. He wasn’t happy about being the patsy for Jonas’ crimes. But yeah, we got lucky. I’m not sure Galahad would have been quite so eager to help if he had known about the ketamine in advance,” she admitted with a crooked grin on her face. “Jonas though, he thought he was going to be his own executioner. But the paramedics put a stop to that. He volunteered a confession again at the station. We got it all on tape and video. The CPS are going to throw the book at him.” She stood and moved across the room to the fan, hitting the oscillation button so the cold air would penetrate the entire room.
“Once he is out of hospital,” Rachel added from across the room, watching Sophie as she moved about before she finally sat back down in the same spot.
“Yes, but he will make a full recovery, and then he will finally stand trial for his crimes,” Whitton answered, a determined edge to her voice.
Gaynor fidgeted and got comfortable, sitting exactly the same way that her daughter did. In so many ways they were alike. Rachel knew where Sophie’s strong personality came from, as well as her dark, brooding looks.
“It’s a shame really, I mean, if he hadn’t been so wrong with, Anita Simmons, was it?” Whitton nodded at her mother. “Then most likely he would have gained public sympathy. A lot of people would consider what he did as a good deed.”
“That’s why we have police officer’s mother, and anyway, he didn’t mind getting paid to defend these people. He isn’t some angel that spared the world. He is a murderer who calculatingly took the lives of people he deemed guilty. Anita Simmons’ husband and two daughters are the victims of that; they’re the ones who deserve sympathy.”
“I suppose you are right.”
Rachel brought the tray over and placed a mug of coffee in front of each of them. Sophie reached for the Wonder Woman cup and sipped gingerly while her mother turned to Rachel. “And how are things with you now?” she asked, the implication of that question being more than just ‘how is work these days.’
Taking a seat next to Sophie, she felt her hand being taken and watched as Sophie raised it to her lips and kissed the back of it. She smiled and felt herself melt into the warmth of her lover. “I think I am doing a lot better now. We had some dark days to get through, but I think we’re on the other side now, and things are looking pretty good from where I am sitting.”
“I do worry about you both.” Gaynor smiled sadly. “It’s such a traumatic experience that you both went through, I just…”
“No,” Sophie said instantly. “No, you are not.” Her head shook, black hair swinging in front of her eyes. “Mother, we are quite fine as we are. I have Dr. Westbrook if I need her, and Rachel is going to be seeing someone. We do not need you to move here.”
“I wasn’t going…”
“Yes, you were. I know that face.” Sophie grinned at her mother as Rachel looked back and forth between them.
“Fine, I was.” She laughed. “But only because I miss seeing you. We could, what is it you call it, hang out?”
“Dear God, you would hate it here, Mum. Stay by the sea where you can feed the gulls and we can visit.”
Rachel chipped in, “It is nice having somewhere on the coast to go for a holiday.” She pulled her feet up and tucked them to the side as she leant against Sophie a little more, enjoying the feeling of her arm as it snaked around her waist. “I promise, I will make her take time off and we will visit more often.”
“Actually, I was thinking maybe somewhere a bit further afield.” Sophie smiled and reached down to the side table. Lifting a magazine, she pulled a leaflet out from under it. “I was in town and popped into the travel agents. They had a great deal on for a break in Turkey.”
Twisting in her seat, Rachel’s eyes lit up. “You booked us a holiday?”
“I did. I mean, Becky spoke to the powers that be, and they said if you got a form in on Monday to book the leave, you’d get it.”
“When do we go?”
“A week, Wednesday. For two weeks.”
Rachel suddenly stopped smiling, “You said the other day that you were sick of the heat.”
“I said I was sick of working in this heat, not swimming in a pool and drinking Mojitos,” Whitton insisted. “Plus, you do keep wearing that bikini, so I figure I might as well take you somewhere to really show it off.”
As Rachel read through the brochure, Whitton’s phone buzzed in her pocket. Reaching in, she pulled it free and saw the number, groaning. “Whitton.”
“Guv, there’s been an incident…” The serious voice of Coleen O’Leary spoke eloquently down the phone. Whitton eyed the room, her mother watching closely. Rachel quietly stiffened.
“I see.” Her old self would already be dislodging Rachel and standing, ready to leave. But something stopped her this time. She’d been making grave decisions her entire working career; now it was time to make some brave decisions. “Call Jeff. I’ll get a rundown on Monday.” She ended the call and felt Rachel relax and settle against her again. This was what she needed now.
Work could wait.
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Grave Decisions Page 18