Epilogue
ISAIAH
Two Years Later
“Shall we write something in the sand for Mummy?” I held my baby son in my arms as we sat on the beach with all the other families, enjoying the sunshine. Something I never imagined I’d ever do.
Enzo was only six months old, so he couldn’t answer, but I answered for him, using his chubby little hands to help me score the letters into the sand.
‘Daddy loves Mummy,’ we wrote. “Let’s draw a heart around the words to make it perfect,” I said, and Enzo flapped his arms in excitement, then rubbed his little fingers together, feeling sand for the first time.
“You’re both so romantic,” Abigail said with a sigh. “Does that mean you’re doing the night feed tonight?”
I shrugged. Sleepless nights didn’t faze me. I’d do anything for my wife and son. “If that’s what I have to do to prove my love, I’ll do the night feed every night.”
I knew, the moment I’d laid eyes on Abigail, that I couldn’t live without her. If she hadn’t agreed to marry me, I’d have kidnapped a vicar to do the job for us and tied her to a chair, only releasing her when she said the vows.
Lucky for me, I didn’t have to do that.
She agreed to marry me after I proposed one night in bed, holding her in my arms. We were able to acquire a birth certificate in my name so the ceremony could go ahead. It’s amazing what you can find on the dark web.
Her dad wasn’t keen on the idea. Abigail was three months pregnant when we got married, and he spent most of the time before the big day trying to convince her that she didn’t need to marry me.
He told her she’d make a fantastic single mum, and they’d be there to help her, too.
She was a fantastic mum. But I would never let her walk away.
I wanted to be the father to Enzo that I never had.
Her dad had no say in the matter. He wasn’t happy about anything I did, anyway.
What was one more reason? But since Enzo came along, he was starting to come around, slowly.
Having my son was the best thing that’d ever happened to me. That, and meeting Abigail. I had people in the world who loved me unconditionally. Family I would give my life to protect. Family I never thought I’d have, but I was so fucking grateful that I did.
“It’s so hot today,” Abigail remarked, wiping her brow. She started to rifle through her bag. “Did I put the suncream in here? Enzo will need more. I don’t want him to burn.” She looked up. “Or you.”
“Maybe we left it in the car,” I remarked. “He’ll be okay for a while though. I put some on before we left.”
But Abigail was mithering, and I knew she wouldn’t be happy until she’d located the suncream.
“I’ll go back to the car,” I said, but she shook her head.
“No. You stay here with Enzo. I could do with stretching my legs, anyway,” she replied, and then leaned forward to kiss the top of Enzo’s head, before kissing me.
I would never grow tired of the ease and comfort I felt with her. How natural it was to kiss her, be with her, share my life with the one person who knew everything about me. And she still loved me, despite it. Most days, she told me she loved me because of it.
I watched her walk away and then turned to face the sea, and that’s when I saw him, and the irritation I worked so hard to keep under control sparked to life.
He was standing alone at the edge of the water, but I knew his friends wouldn’t be far away. I didn’t care. I wanted him to know I was here. I wanted to show him I’d never hide in the shadows. I’d stand toe-to-toe with him any day.
I stood up, holding Enzo in my arms, and padded across the sand towards him.
When he saw me, his eyes went wide for just a second, before he scoffed, “You were the last person I expected to see here.” Adam Noble whipped his head around, checking the beach before adding, “If the others see you, there’ll be a fucking massacre today.”
I grinned and tilted my head. “I’d hate to embarrass them again. But we both know who would suffer in that massacre.”
“Still cocky as ever,” he sneered.
Adam Noble was obviously still salty about the fact that he was arrested and questioned in regard to my crimes. Even more pissed off that I used a few of his friends, the soldiers of Brinton Manor, to help me with some of my kills. They needed to get over themselves.
“Is that your son or are you stealing random kids from the beach now?”
He knew better than to speak to me like that. He also knew I had a code, just like him.
“This is my son, not that I owe you an explanation.”
Adam’s nostrils flared as he regarded me, then he shook his head, like he was having some sort of inner turmoil.
“I don’t even know why I’m considering this. I must need my head looking at,” he remarked.
“Why?” I narrowed my eyes at him, waiting for him to elaborate.
He sighed and took his phone out of his pocket.
“I had an email a few days ago. I thought it might be something you’d be interested in.”
“And why would that be?”
“Because the email was about someone you know quite well.”
I had no idea what he was on about. I assumed it was someone at Clivesdon House, but I urged him on, saying, “Go on. Tell me.”
He tapped the screen of his phone and said, “It’s Charles Quinn.”
My body stiffened at the mention of his name. Revulsion burning inside at the image of the man who I would drag from the depths of hell to kill all over again if I could.
“Why would I be interested in anything to do with him?”
“Because according to the email I received, there might be another potential victim. I know how much you like to enact your own style of revenge.”
“No more than you,” I shot back.
Adam paused, then asked, “Don’t you even want to know what it is?”
“Not really, but I can see you’re dying to tell me, so go ahead. I have two minutes to kill.” I widened my grin, and I knew he was about to walk away, so I added, “Talk.”
He stared at his phone, then said, “They weren’t sure whether to reach out. They saw the news about his death a few years ago, and spoke to the police about their case, but nothing was done.”
“Figures,” I remarked. My view of the British justice system was so far down the toilet, it was now wallowing in the sewers.
“The anniversary of the case brought it all back up for them, and they decided to reach out ‘cos they know we get shit done.”
Noble was blowing smoke so far up his own ass, he resembled a self-righteous chimney.
“Just read the damn email,” I snapped, and his jaw clenched before he relented.
“I’m writing to you as my last hope,” he announced, reading from his screen.
“For years now, I’ve lived with the pain of what that doctor did.
He’s never received justice, and no one seems to be listening to me.
I’ve approached the police on numerous occasions, but all they do is tell me they’ll look into it, but they never do.
“I’ll start by explaining what happened to me, and if you think this is something you could help me with, I would be eternally grateful. I have no one else to turn to.
“I met Doctor Charles Quinn thirty years ago, when I attended the General for the routine delivery of my baby. What should’ve been the happiest day of my life turned into a nightmare.
He butchered me, took pleasure in my pain, and when he told me my baby was born asleep, I didn’t believe him.
I still don’t. A mother knows, and for the last thirty years, I’ve lived in a nightmare, convinced he did something to my baby.
“I’ve seen the news reports. I know he was involved in trafficking. I also know he was responsible for those murders. I just want justice for my baby. To find out what he did, if that’s at all possible. So, I can finally put this nightmare to bed, and get some closure.”
Noble kept reading but my mind had already gone.
So, there were more. I knew there would be.
More babies he stole, more families he tore apart, more victims of his sordid practises.
And more reasons for me to keep doing what I do best. I could never change.
I was blessed that Abigail would never expect me to.
I realised Noble had stopped talking and was staring at me.
“So?” he asked. “I wouldn’t normally invite you onto a job, but I think in this case, you might be able to help us. It would have to stay on the down-low though. Until I’ve had chance to talk to the others.”
“Fine,” I replied, and reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a card. “Here’s my email. Forward the details and I’ll think it over.”
He took the card, and I turned to walk away, but before I did, I asked, “What’s the woman’s name?”
“Tia,” he replied, stealing the air from my lungs. “Tia Bailey.”