‘It wasn’t like that. He didn’t wander; he ran. And hewasdying! He was dying and he would be dead now if—’ I shake my head and will impending tears not to fall.
‘How long have you known Gregory Ryans hated his father?’
‘I… I don’t?—’
‘How long, Scarlett?’
‘It’s not like that.’
Katrina stands, sending her chair crashing against the wall.
‘That’s enough, Trina!’ DI Barnes is on his feet too.
‘It’s not like what? Why are you protecting him, Scarlett?’ She’s barking, leaning towards me, both hands on the table, her words wet on my face.
I’m not protecting him. He’s protecting me. He’s protecting me and you’re behaving like he’s a murderer. I rise without conscious thought until I’m face to face with her. ‘What the fuck did you want him to do? He was going to die! One man in that room was never going to make it out alive and I’ll never be sorry that itwasn’t the man I love, that it’s the fucking bastard who picked the fight!’
She takes a step back from my rage. A sadistic grin starts to rise on her lips. ‘Do you know he couldn’t even call you his girlfriend? Unrequited love, that’s what you’re protecting.’
She’s a jumped-up, moody bitch and she’s trying to rattle me but her words drive a knife through my gut, taking the energy out of my legs, forcing me to sit.
‘That. Is. Enough. You want to make your name, Trina, but this isn’t the case you’re going to use to do it. Get out of here; you’re off the case.’
Katrina snaps her head to look at DI Barnes. ‘Fuck you!’ She marches out of the room, slamming the metal door and causing me to jump as she goes.
I try to calm my heaving chest, taking long inhales. ‘It was self-defence. He had no choice,’ I mutter, my eyes rising to meet the scrutiny of DI Barnes.
‘I know,’ he says softly, before pressing the Record button on the digital device and ending the official interrogation.
‘Why did she behave like that? What’s her problem?’
DI Barnes shakes his head, slowly, thoughtfully. ‘You two represent everything she can’t stand.’
My hand instinctively rises to stroke the heavy diamond choker around my neck and I look down at my black gown. How perfectly unordinary we must look, giving statements in black tie, smelling of money. Lying to protect our dirty little secret. I want to defend myself. I want to explain that this isn’t my life, that Iamordinary. But I don’t. Instead, I think about the man who borrowed the diamonds around my neck and bought my dress from Harrods.
‘Where’s Gregory?’
‘He’s waiting for you.’
‘Is he free to go?’
‘For now.’
‘Even though?—’
‘You’d both better get out of here before I change my mind and charge his arse.’
‘Thank you,’ I whisper with more gratitude than he could possibly take from my words.
My weary legs find the strength to stand and move to the door. The corridor is long and grey and closes in on me as I work my way to the guarded double door and the enormity of the night starts to hit me. My entire being aches with pain, sorrow, emptiness. Each step takes me closer to the only person in the world who can make things feel right again.
A guard pushes open the door without speaking and inclines his head for me to walk into the station reception.
Gregory rises from a row of seats, his shirt soiled, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, his hair showing the signs of his stress tell: pulling his fingers through it. His broad shoulders turn slowly to face me, his deep-brown eyes softening when they find me. He’s as perfect as ever and I need him. I need to feel his strong arms around me. His shoulders sag and he mouths to me, ‘Get here.’
Like he knows I will, I move to him and despite everything, I fall a little deeper.
My heart stops beating and breath leaves my lungs. He places his palms on my cheeks and gently rests his lips on my brow, then pulls me into his hard chest and wraps his arms around me. In the safety of his embrace, my legs finally give way beneath me and I sob, tears streaming down my face as I cling to him. He sweeps me up into his arms and carries me away from the station, away from the nightmare of the last few hours.
