T
he table was laid, the chicken roasting in the oven, the wine bottles open. Don, beer in hand, took over the kitchen on a Sunday, wouldn’t let anyone else in. Insisted on doing the whole thing himself. Phil and Marina, exiled to the living room with their glasses of wine, joined Eileen, who was playing with Josephina on her mat.
An almost stereotypically happy family Sunday scene.
But the picture was distorted. Disguising just how difficult the last few weeks had been.
For all of them.
When Phil had recovered consciousness and was lying in a hospital bed, he had opened his eyes to find Marina by his side.
‘Hey,’ he had managed.
‘Hey yourself,’ she had replied.
He had felt good seeing her there, like it had all been worthwhile. And then he had drifted off again.
A few days later, he was up and talking. Mickey had been to see him, filled him in on what had happened; Don and Eileen too. And Marina. Always Marina.
They had sent him home with his arm strapped up and instructions to take it easy. He couldn’t do anything else. But although his body wasn’t responding, his mind was. And there were things he needed to talk about.
‘How’s Finn?’ he had asked Marina, the night after he had been discharged from hospital. Sitting in an armchair in the living room, the Decemberists playing, drinking wine. Trying to relax. Not doing a good job of it.
Marina had looked up from her book. ‘He’s fine,’ she had said. ‘He’s been reunited with his mother. We’ve got him counselling. We’re getting all of them counselling. They’re going to need it.’
Phil took a mouthful of wine.
‘D’you think you did the right thing?’
‘What d’you mean?’
Phil could tell from the look on her face that she knew exactly what he meant. It was what he had wanted to talk to her about since he had come round in hospital. And she had been expecting it.
‘Down in the chamber. You encouraged Finn to kill Glass.’
‘He was going to do it anyway. Or try. What could I do?’
‘He’s a damaged boy, Marina. What you allowed him to do could make him even worse. Unreachable, even.’
‘Things weren’t that simple, Phil, and you know it. What was I supposed to do? Tell him that I knew what he was about to do but strongly advise him not to do it? And then let Glass kill all of us?’
‘But … ’
‘No, Phil. No buts. He’d just watched you kill the Gardener. He did the same thing to Glass. It wasn’t a situation where middle-class morality applied.’
Phil said nothing.
‘Finn will recover,’ Marina said, leaning towards him over the arm of the sofa. ‘We’ll make sure he gets the best help he can. We’ll allow him the time to get better. He’s confronted the worst thing in his life and faced it down. Now, with help, he’ll hopefully be able to go on and lead as normal a life as possible.’
‘But what about what happened to him in that room? In the Garden?’
‘Remembered as a bad dream. Hopefully. Like what happened to you.’
Phil took a sip of wine.
‘Like what happened to me,’ he said. Took another sip. ‘Hopefully.’
‘Dinner in about ten minutes,’ said Don now, popping his head round the door.
They all acknowledged his words.
Marina looked across at Phil.
She was getting him back. She was sure of it. Slowly. But he was coming back to her.
It had been difficult. Of course it had. And although she could empathise with him, she couldn’t imagine what he had gone through. But he was accepting things. Moving on. Getting his life back together.
And she was so glad she was still a part of it.
She looked down at Josephina playing with Eileen. The little girl laughed at something Eileen did, then looked at Phil to see his reaction. He laughed too. Marina saw tears in the corners of his eyes. Saw the smile linger on his lips, reluctant to go. Knew how much love that man had in his heart.
Yes.
His arm was healing. She was sure he was healing inside too.
She was getting him back.
*
They sat round the table, food laid out before them. All hungry, all ready to start.
‘Before we dive in,’ said Phil, ‘I just want to say something.’
Silence fell. Don and Eileen risked a look between them.
‘It’s been a funny few weeks, hasn’t it?’ said Phil.
No one spoke.
‘I just wanted to say … ’ he looked at Don and Eileen, ‘thank you. For everything.’
Don started to say something; Phil kept going, talked over the top of him.
‘Sorry, Don, you’ll get your turn in a moment. I’ve thought long and hard about this, and I want to say it while it’s still fresh in my head. What you two did for me … ’ he looked at them again, ‘I can’t thank you enough. I can never thank you enough. You gave me a home. You gave me a childhood. You gave me a future.’
His voice caught. He stopped. No one moved. No one spoke. They waited. Phil continued.
‘You kept some things from me. And yes, I was angry about that. But I’ve been thinking. And … ’ He sighed. Shrugged. ‘What else could you have done? I’m sure I would have done the same if it had been me. And you did it for the best.’
He paused again.
‘And because you did, I’ve got a family. Don, you’ve always said families are more than just biology. And you’re right.’ He looked round the table. ‘I’ve got my family. Right here, Don.’ He looked at him again. ‘Dad.’
Don turned away, eyes wet.
Phil held his glass up.
‘To family.’
They all joined in. Drank. Ate.
Together.
A happy family.
The tightrope holding.
Have you read Tania Carver’s other thrillers?
A sickening killer is on the loose – a killer like no other. This murderer targets heavily pregnant women, drugging them and brutally removing their unborn babies.
When DI Phil Brennan is called to the latest murder scene, he knows that he has entered the world of the most depraved killer he has ever encountered. After a loveless, abused childhood, Phil knows evil well, but nothing in his life has prepared him for this.
And when criminal profiler Marina Esposito is brought in to help solve the case, she delivers a bombshell: she believes there is a woman involved in the killing – a woman desperate for children …
THE CREEPER
Suzanne Perry is having a vivid nightmare. Someone is in her bedroom with her, and she can’t move a muscle.
She wakes, relieved to see the morning light, glad to put the nightmare behind her. Then she opens the curtains and sees a Polaroid stuck to the window. A photo of her sleeping self, taken during the night. And underneath it the words:
I’m watching over you
Her nightmare isn’t over, in fact it’s just beginning …
‘If you haven’t discovered this talented newcomer yet, hurry. She’s on her way to the top’
Richard Montanari
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
Chapter 101
Chapter 102
Chapter 103
Chapter 104
Chapter 105
Chapter 106
Chapter 107
Chapter 108
Chapter 109
Chapter 110
Chapter 111
Chapter 112
Chapter 113
Chapter 114
Chapter 115
Chapter 116
Chapter 117
Chapter 118
Chapter 119
Chapter 120
Chapter 121
Chapter 122
Chapter 123
Chapter 124
Chapter 125
Chapter 126
Chapter 127
Chapter 128
Chapter 129
Chapter 130
Chapter 131
Chapter 132
Chapter 133
Chapter 134