I laughed. “You do and you will. Let’s have a look through these documents I’ve received from Dean’s lawyers yesterday.” He was going to contest the divorce. That was what his lawyers had said, hence the mediation tomorrow although that had already been arranged when it seemed the fight was just going to be about finances and property.
Katie paled. “He’s not going to want to let me go.”
I shook my head. “You may have to use some of the evidence you have against him when it goes to court. I suspect he’s going to take the part of the wronged party.”
We started to talk about strategies and ideas, what she was prepared to negotiate with and go through. Lacey’s lawyers had suggested marriage guidance, something Katie was opposed to, not wanting to sit in the same room as him, or chance being on their own together. His lawyers had also insinuated that she was suffering from depression, and although I didn’t think she was mentally completely healthy, that was more to do with stress and anxiety. She needed a doctor’s opinion, which she could get today.
I heard a crash from inside and Denico’s voice calling our names. His tone was urgent and we both stood, me grabbing the files.
“Get the fuck inside now!” he shouted, holding the door wide open.
My feet were leaden and lifting them to move seemed like an impossibility. I grabbed Katie’s arm and dragged her inside, grabbing my satchel and papers at the same time.
“Both of you into the utility room. Close the door behind you,” Denico said, his voice calmer, quieter and I noticed he held a gun.
“What’s happened?” I said, surprised at how level I sounded.
“Cameras have picked up a motorbike heading this way. It could be nothing. It could be something. You’ve about thirty seconds to get in that room.” He had started to secrete himself near the door, his phone in his hand with a series of small screens on it, showing different angles of the cottage.
I ushered Katie into the utility room which had no windows and only one door that led into the kitchen. It was small, containing only a sink, washer and dryer and as secure a place as there was in the cottage.
Silence blanketed us; I could only hear the rushing of my blood and my breath which I tried to slow down. My fingers tingled with adrenaline and fear and I grabbed Katie’s hands with mine, needing the touch of another human. Her lips mouthed the word ‘fuck’ over and over, almost like a mantra and we tried to listen.
There was nothing. No sound, no rustling or bang or shot of a gun. I wanted to ask Katie if she thought I should go out, but I had no idea if anyone would hear me, if someone was on the other side of the door waiting for us.
And then it came.
Noise.
I heard Denico’s voice, the words too fast to be deciphered and then there was banging, crashing, the thud of something falling and another male voice, swearing and threatening before the noise came to an abrupt stop. It was over in what must’ve been seconds although I felt as if I had been holding my breath for days.
“Katie! Claire! It’s clear.” Denico yelled, sounding remarkablychipper. I tentatively opened the door and went through to the lounge where Denico was restraining a large man wearing black jeans and a thick black sweater, a deep gash to the head, his eye already swelling up. They were on the floor, the man on his stomach, face to his left.
The front door opened and I flinched, ready to run back through the kitchen and grab a knife on the way, but it was only Nick. Tall, muscled Nick who looked as if he was ready to take on the world and fight it. “What the fuck?” he said, dropping down to the man Denico still had hold of. “Who the fuck are you?” he said, his tone low and menacing. He started to search him, pulling out a phone that was switched off. “Talk to me.” He kept his hands off him, his eyes fixed and I wondered if Killian had ever looked that threatening. “The police are on their way. You came here on a bike so you’re clearly not expecting to steal much.”
“Jewellery,” he said. “I was after jewellery. If there was none here I was going to the house over there.” He referred to my parents.
“So why were you going through those papers?” Denico said, tightening his grip around the man’s arms and applying a bit more pressure with knee he had in his back. “I filmed you breaking in through the door – good run up there by the way – and going straight for my briefcase.”
I’d taken my papers and satchel into the utility room with us, although the only thing in there was the documents I’d received from Lacey’s lawyers and printed out the day before. Everything else was on my laptop which was in the safe at my parents. But there was whatever Katie had with her. I knew there were photographs, selfies she’d taken after Lacey had hit her one night and pictures of her arms where there were bruises from his hands and fingers, and photos of him with an eighteen-year-old. She had print outs of messages he’d sent her and recordings of voicemails; all were enough evidence to take to the police and have him arrested. All would ensure a quick divorce. All of which she refused to use, saying he had enough on her to turn her world around.
“Thought there might be jewellery in there. You know, a watch or something.” He was heavily accented and sweating profusely, his face scarred and pale. He looked like he could’ve been a stereotypic thief.
“Where did you get the bike from? Is that nicked too?” Nick said. I heard engines outside and then voices and footsteps.
“Morning, Claire.” I recognised the police officer. Malcolm Rayner had been working the beat near us since I had been a teenager. He’d gradually worked his way up to sergeant but had stayed in Oxford. “What trouble had you brought me?”
“He broke into the house through the front door. Did a bit of rummaging through a briefcase.” Nick said. “It’s all on camera.”
“You’re the security guy?” Rayner said. “Grant mentioned you were fitting some gear. Can’t be too careful nowadays, especially with criminals like these who are often after cars.”
Two other police officers had entered and were handcuffing the intruder and reading him his rights. I’d started to feel like my feet were back on the ground and I wasn’t actually watching some police drama.
“We’ll need to get some statements,” Rayner said. “And are you able to send the footage over?” He looked at Nick who nodded, his phone in front of him, fingers typing. I went into the kitchen and started to make coffee, needing the normality, needing space to breathe.
Killian arrived shortly after Rayner had finished taking our statements and the police were in possession of the video footage of the man coming down the narrow lane and forcing the door to the cottage. Denico had filmed him going through the briefcase and then starting to pull open a drawer. It was after that when Denico had grabbed him from behind which was what we’d heard.
“You okay?” Killian said. He was wearing a suit without the tie, the neck button undone. “I can’t fucking believe this happened when I wasn’t here.”
