Chapter 58
Chapter fifty-eight
“Just check my phone. You’ll see Sarah listed,” Matty said as the clock ticked over to midnight. “Ask Brandon!”
DS Saint sat back in his chair, glanced at his colleague, then back at Matty. “We did.”
“And there you go then.”
“He said he doesn’t know anyone called Sarah.”
Matty stared at him open-mouthed, trying to make the words make sense. “What? That’s not true.”
Saint’s mouth twisted and he shrugged. “He says she doesn’t exist, you say she does.
Who should we believe? We’ve got an informant who saw a woman buying a large quantity of MDMA, pills, weed, speed, from Dean Fargo.
Those drugs were brought back to your flat, and Brandon was seen selling them at various pubs.
” He pushed a photo across the table, the glossy edge scraping against the laminate, of Brandon and his crew inside the pub, chatting to Gloria.
Matty swallowed when the next set of images were pushed in front of her. Sloan, then her own face, caught mid-step, mouth half open.
“That’s you, right?” he asked. “And that’s Sloan Slater…your girlfriend.”
She looked to her left at the duty solicitor now instructed to act on her behalf. He nodded.
“Yes, that’s me, and that’s Sloan, but we were only there to collect Gloria.” Panic rose hot in her chest. She couldn’t drag Sloan into this.
“Gloria?” the woman officer asked.
“Yes, Sloan’s mother.” She pointed at the picture and Gloria on the stool. “I work for her. I clean for her…make sure she has everything she needs.”
“Doesn’t look like she needs much help in these photos,” Saint said. Matty’s gaze moved to him.
“She escaped—I mean…” Matty swallowed. “Look, she got a new scooter, and she decided to take off and enjoy a pint at the pub. We tracked her down and went in to get her.”
“Do you sell drugs at Art, Matty?” the woman asked. “It’s busy these days.”
“It’s popular, yes,” Matty acknowledged.
“Lots of young people, all wanting to experiment,” the woman said. “Famous people hanging around.”
Matty stared at her. She couldn’t remember the woman’s name.
Saint added, “There’s a lot of scope to sell recreational drugs in a place like Art.”
“For the last time—” Matty’s voice cracked. “I’m not dealing. I’m not part of this.”
The solicitor leant forward. “Do you have any evidence that links my client to any of these claims?” He fingered the photos. “Other than photographs of Ms Bradford in a pub with…” He made a show of counting the other patrons. “Twenty other people, Detective?”
When Saint said nothing, the solicitor continued, “As I thought. So, until you do, I think my client will be best served by being released, don’t you?”
“Right now, what’s best for Matty is she starts talking about what she knows,” the woman said, jabbing a finger at Matty.
“Are we done here?” the solicitor said, not looking at her once. Saint nodded.
“What’s happening?” Matty’s voice came out thin.
The solicitor stood up. “Until you do have any actual evidence that my client is involved in anything more than living at the address you raided, we’ll be leaving.” He touched Matty’s shoulder. “Come along, Matty.”
She stood up, confused, looking from him to them and back again. “I can go home?”
“No,” Saint said. “You can’t go back there. It’s a crime scene until forensics sign it off, but yes, you can leave,” he added reluctantly.
Relief hit Matty so hard her knees threatened to buckle. She grabbed the edge of the table, just to stay upright.
“Really? That’s it?”
“You’re still under caution,” Saint said. “We might ask you to come back in.”
“If you find any evidence to warrant that,” the solicitor added, “otherwise, you are free to go, Matty.”
Matty flung her arms round his neck. “Thank you.”
“You’re quite welcome.” He reached past her to open the door. “Good evening, detectives.”
***
Outside, Matty stood and tried to think. She couldn’t go home. No clothes. No phone. Everything was back at the flat, locked up with the rest of it.
By the time they’d processed her and handed back her wallet, keys, and the sad little packet of chewing gum they’d taken off her, it was almost two.
The cold air got straight through her. No jacket, just a thin top, and she could feel it in her arms. Her stomach gave a hollow twist, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since—when? Hours ago, she realised.
There was only one place she could go at this hour. Nothing else was open. The town had shut down hours ago. She knew she couldn’t afford a hotel, and her home was off-limits.
Pulling her wallet free, she checked how much money she had, then walked back into the police station.
There was a phone on the wall. The sticky ‘Free Taxi Line’ sticker had been picked at and almost peeled away. She lifted the receiver and listened as it rang twice before a grumpy, half-asleep voice said, “Tony’s Cars.”
“I need a ride from the police station.”
“Where to?”
She gave him the address, hung up, and unknowingly sat down to wait on the same plastic chair Sloan had sat in earlier.
***
The taxi pulled up outside Sloan’s house thirty minutes later. Matty handed him a note, saying, “Keep the change.”
She’d considered asking him to wait, but for what? To take her back into town to freeze on a bench? The cold had already got into her bones, and she couldn’t stop the shiver that kept running through her. There was no other choice. One way or another, she was waking Sloan up.
Looking up at the house, she could see the upstairs landing light was still on. Was it a good sign someone was still awake?
She’d spent the last hour wondering what Sloan thought about Matty standing her up like that. Of course she’d be upset.
She’d be furious.
***
Sloan had tossed and turned, thumping the pillow in frustration. Tonight should have been different.
Cocktails. Dinner. Home. Bed. Tangled up together. Arms and legs knotted. Tongues battling for control.
Instead, she’d spent it worrying, staring up at the ceiling in the dark, exhausted, flitting between sleep and being awake. She rolled over and got comfortable again. Something was off, though. She stilled, listening intently.
Sloan heard a noise.
A tapping—gentle at first, then louder.
The landing light spilled a thin strip under the bedroom door. The house was too quiet—the kind of quiet that made small sounds feel like someone was breaking in. It wasn’t coming from her Mum’s room, but further away.
She pushed herself up, stomach dropping. Pulling on her dressing gown, she stepped out on to the landing, holding her breath to listen.
There it was.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Pause. Then again.
She went downstairs, bare feet quiet on the steps, and stopped with her hand on the front door.
A shadowy figure she recognised stood on the step. She recognised the hair first, then the shape of her shoulders.
It was Matty.
Sloan eased the door open and it stuck, as it always did. She yanked it harder, and when it opened, she stood still for a moment, just staring.
Sloan didn’t know what to do. Happy to see her. Furious at the worry. Scared by the state of her. In the end, none of it mattered.
“Matty!” Sloan gasped, opening the door wider. Her hands came up, warm palms cupping cold cheeks. She pulled Matty inside and into an embrace that ended when their mouths met in a kiss that was soft and brief.
“I was worried sick.” Sloan then pulled back just enough to see her properly. “Where’s your coat? You must be freezing.” She didn’t give Matty a chance to speak.
Sloan shut the door behind them, untied her dressing gown and slipped it off, wrapping it round Matty’s shoulders. “Let’s get you warmed up.”
She took Matty’s hand and led her to the kitchen. Sloan snapped on the light and they both blinked.
“Hot chocolate,” Sloan said. “Then bed.”
Matty stood still in the middle of the room. Her hands were shaking with small tremors she couldn’t hide.
“Sloan?” Her voice was small.
Sloan turned, recognising everything in a heartbeat, and moved back towards her. “I’m here,” she said as Matty fell against her. “I’m here.” Her arms wrapped around Matty. “What do you need?”
“Just—hold me,” Matty said, face buried against Sloan’s neck. “I’m sorry. I’ve messed everything up.”
“You haven’t,” Sloan said. She ran her hand over Matty’s curls, resting her palm against the back of her head. “What happened?”
“I’m still trying to work it out.” Matty pulled back. Her eyes glistened with tears, but she tried a small smile. “I…” She swallowed hard. “I was arrested.”
Even saying it out loud made her flinch. She watched Sloan’s face, waiting for it to change.
Sloan nodded. “I know.”
“You know? How?”
“Let me make this hot chocolate and then we’ll talk, okay?”
She set about it. Milk went into the pan, slowly heating before she added several heaped spoonfuls of luxury chocolate powder. She stirred slowly and let her thoughts settle. Matty was here. Breathing. Warmth coming back into her hands.
When the drink was ready, she poured it into two mugs.
“Okay, it’s late. Let’s go up,” she said with a smile. “Everything is going to be fine.”
“You sure about that?” Matty grimaced, not yet convinced.
“Yes. I’ve assessed the risks and—” Sloan huffed a laugh without humour. “It’s going to be fine.”