40. Chapter 40
Nate
There’s a welcoming committee waiting for me in Dunedin. It’s not the Munchausen bitch, which I half-expected. It’s the fucking cops. I’m annoyed to see them—and worried. Constance planned this better than I realised. And it means my little heart will be alone with her that much longer.
Not good. Not fucking good.
One of the cops steps towards me. “Mr Nathaniel Hadley?”
“Yeah. What do you want?”
“You need to come with us.”
I let out a sigh, checking my phone to see that Grace hasn’t answered my texts yet. Fucking hell…
“On what grounds?” I ask, not bothering to look up as I flick through apps.
“We need to ask you some questions.”
It’s not an answer and we both know it. Meeting his eyes, I feel the beginnings of recognition. I stare him down. I know my damn rights.
“What. Grounds.”
When he hesitates, I realise how I know him.
He’s Constable Tim’s partner, the cop who handled Constance Reid after Nick’s death.
And he was waiting here for me to arrive.
The shape of the situation is coming together, and I know I’ve got to get Watson on the phone before I even think about reaching out to Grace again.
“Well?” I prompt. He looks to the other three cops for help.
Although he’s clearly the lead for this confrontation, he’s got no fucking clue how to handle someone who knows how to enforce their rights.
“Have you got a charge for my arrest,” I continue, “or did you just feel like giving me a ride into town?”
Another brief hesitation before he finally speaks up. “We have, er, reasonable grounds to ask you about some documents filed prior to the passing of your brother. One potential charge is suspicion of fraud.”
Watson always did warn me about paper trails…
I let my tone warm a little. “Any chance I can call my lawyer now, get things started on my end?”
“I’m not so sure that’s—”
“Where’s Tim?” I interrupt, hitting the call button on Watson’s number. “Why isn’t he here, helping you through this?”
“He’ll meet us at the station. If you could come quietly with me, I won’t have to cuff you.”
I smile. “You cuff me, and my formal complaint against your department will turn into a fucking civil suit against you, personally. But yeah, I’ll come with you nice and quiet if you let me talk to my lawyer while we walk.”
I walk next to him, the other officers falling into place at my back.
They don’t touch me and they don’t stop me when I put my phone to my ear.
I give Watson a quick summary of where I’m at, wishing like hell that Grace had left behind the documents that prompted her flight south.
Sasha told me something about an envelope with a hand-written address.
I’m not quite sure how the Munchausen bitch has set me up, but Watson will have to figure it out fast. I don’t want Grace alone with her for one second longer than it takes to sort this out.
I ring off as we arrive at the cop car and try calling Grace yet again. No answer. She’s probably back in that mouldy townhouse. I can only hope my wife is strong enough to handle the psychopathic bitch on her own while I deal with the crap I’ve stepped in.
Seated in the car, I flick a few texts to Graves, my PI.
I ask him to collate our evidence against Constance alongside Dr Gowan’s findings, and email it all through to me.
And to Grace. At the very least, it’ll provide us with the means to have the bitch arrested in her own damn turn.
I’m just texting Watson to confirm how long the cops can hold me legally—no more than a few hours—when we arrive at the station.
Constable Baby-Face insists on helping me out of the car this time and I grin inwardly, knowing the coward feels braver now that we’re on his turf. We head inside, past the main office, then down a hall of interrogation rooms. Tim waits behind a table, his hands folded, the picture of calm.
“Long time no talk,” I say, dropping into the chair opposite. “How you been, man?”
“So-so, if I’m honest.” He gives me a cool stare. “This case has been keeping me up at night. Too many loose ends in too many directions and no logical centre.”
I lean back and spread my legs. “I know just what you mean. I’m happy to lay down some explanations for you once my lawyer arrives. Shall we have a catch-up until then? How’s the wife? I hope she’s doing better than mine is right now.”
My prodding lands the way I expect: Tim’s jaw clenches, and I see that he’s followed my line of thinking.
Which means he knows about my marriage to Grace.
I wonder if the Munchausen bitch’s case hinges on the public record of the wedding last month.
If Constance has somehow found something more incriminating—well, Watson will handle it.
“Is Grace all right?” Tim asks, flipping a notebook open.
“Last we spoke, you mentioned long-standing abuse at the hands of her mother, and you gave some evidence on that front. Not enough to warrant her arrest, but plenty to keep an eye out.” He thumbs through some pages.
“That was before Constance Reid came forward with evidence against you, of course.”
“Well, Grace is most likely at Constance’s house,” I say, ignoring his confirmation of the conflict between the Munchausen bitch and me, “which means her well-being is at imminent risk. Maybe you should go over there and do your job.”
Tim’s eyes shift to something behind me—his baby-faced partner.
“Get Grace Hadley on the phone,” he commands, and I hear the door into the interrogation room open and close.
We’re alone before he speaks again. “Mr Hadley, this situation is out of order. One party accusing another of abuse was one thing, especially given what my partner and I witnessed when we first met Grace. But now, with Constance building a case against you after you married her daughter the same day your brother—said daughter’s original spouse—was killed in an accident…
Well, you see how strange it all looks.”
“Sure. But strange-looking circumstances are rarely counted as fraud. Or am I mistaken?”
His cold smile is back. “Like you, Constance Reid has given us documentation. Unlike you, she’s willing to nail things down for an arrest.”
He pulls a folder out from beneath the desk and opens it.
I recognise the page on top: it’s the very marriage license application Watson cautioned me about, filled out almost exactly two months before I forced Grace to marry me.
Back then, the plan was still to wait until she graduated with her degree, then find a way to lure her up to the North Island.
Having the license ready was my way of assuaging my own eagerness.
Watson said it was stupid. He was right.
Tim keeps speaking, inexorable now that he’s started.
“Shall we talk about how strange it is when a man makes arrangements to marry his brother’s widow before said brother is dead?
Very strange, when the brother then dies suddenly, leaving his wife a widow without access to an inheritance, which swapped over to you just a few weeks before. ”
I grit my teeth, realising that the Munchausen bitch must have hired a PI of her own.
She’s found everything I did, all that careful planning, and she’s used it in the worst possible way.
None of my intentions were based on Nick’s demise; in fact, his death made it so that I had to move forward much faster than I would have wanted to. And now I might lose Grace altogether.
I realise Tim is waiting for my answer. I like the guy. I like how he handled Constance after Nick died. I like how he comforted my wife. So I give him one last piece of information.
“What can I say, Tim. I’m a motherfucking romantic.”
Then I shut my damn mouth.