Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
TV cops made kicking in doors look easy.
Matthias knew it wasn’t, but he’d heard every word; every threat Ashley had made.
There was no way he was waiting for the county’s SWAT unit to arrive.
Thanks to Eric manning his own phone while Matthias kept his tuned to Emma’s call, the special weapons and tactics squad was hurtling toward the Jones residence along with dozens of local and state police.
But Matthias got there first, and he wasn’t waiting for backup.
Thankful that Sonny hadn’t bothered to upgrade his house and that the front door wasn’t new or steel, Matthias had Eric hold the storm door open while he, firearm in hand, charged shoulder first dead center. The wood disintegrated, and he staggered through.
He could’ve saved his shoulder.
Ashley sprawled on the floor, moaning and clutching her head.
Emma stood over her, a bead of blood dripping down her neck from a small nick.
Nell balanced on her good foot, holding her crutch like a club, ready to strike again if Ashley made any kind of move.
The child stood at the edge of the room, screaming.
“Oh, that poor baby.” Eric bustled past Matthias, pausing to inspect Nell and Emma. “Are you girls okay?”
“We’re fine.” Nell tucked her makeshift weapon under one arm, hopped over to the sofa, and flopped down on it. “And we make a helluva team, right, Sis?”
“One hundred percent,” Emma replied. She looked down and used the toe of her sneaker to kick a knife well away from Ashley’s reach.
Appeased, Eric continued to the little girl and scooped her up. “Now, now. Let’s dry those tears.” He shot a troubled look at Matthias that mirrored his own thoughts. Daphne Jones’s life was about to change in a big way. They could only pray it would be for the better.
As Eric carried the child out of the room, Matthias brought his focus back to Emma, who met his gaze and smiled the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen.
He stuffed his sidearm into the back of his jeans. “We have to stop meeting like this.”
“Yes, please,” she said before crossing to him and stepping into his open arms. “What the hell took you so long?”
* * *
Police swarmed the Jones house, missing all the action, but, as Matthias pointed out, just in time to take care of the paperwork.
An ambulance had taken Ashley away, accompanied by a pair of Pennsylvania State Troopers.
Nell had given her a possible concussion, although once Ashley regained her senses, she alternated cussing out Nell and Emma with screaming for her daughter.
Matthias was certain the histrionics did nothing to soothe the little girl’s state of mind.
Eric was doing his best to keep her entertained in her room. When Matthias looked in on them, Eric was reading books, using silly voices for the characters. Children and Youth Services was en route.
Matthias stood watch as Fergusson questioned Emma and then Nell. When it was his turn, Matthias told them about Emma’s phone call and what he overheard while rushing to get to them before Ashley could add to her roster of murder victims.
Fergusson shook his head. “If only she’d called 911 instead of Winslow, this would’ve ended so differently.
With her history of abuse and his attack on the daughter, she’d very likely have gotten off.
At worst, she might’ve served minimal time.
Now, at best, she’ll be an old woman before she gets out. ”
“She didn’t want Daphne going into the system, but that’s precisely what’s going to happen.”
“Sad, but true.”
An hour later, a woman from CYS arrived.
Eric helped her and Daphne pack a bag before the woman escorted the little girl out of the house for probably the last time.
Not a bad thing, Matthias thought. She’d witnessed her father abuse her mother, her mother stab her father, and tonight, her mother’s attempt to kill Emma.
He suspected the child would suffer the emotional trauma for weeks, months, years ahead.
Matthias left Emma and Nell, arms draped around each other, on the sofa with Eric at their side. He found Fergusson with the crime scene techs in the kitchen. “Do you need us for anything else?”
“I don’t think so. I know how to find you if we have more questions.” Fergusson moved toward Matthias, shaking his head. “I was an idiot. I honestly believed Ashley Jones was the fragile, grieving widow.”
Matthias eyed him.
Fergusson met his gaze. “What?”
“If we ever work together again,” Matthias said in a whispered growl, “I don’t ever want to hear another word about what went down fifteen years ago.”
Fergusson stiffened. He thought about it for a few beats. “Agreed. I’ve been an ass.”
Matthias managed a tight smile. “Agreed,” he echoed.