After another goodbye, they left the room and headed out of the hospital, hand in hand.
* * *
‘How are you feeling?’ Stacey asked once they were back in the car.
‘Didn’t want to let her go,’ Devon said, fighting back tears.
‘Me either,’ Stacey admitted.
They sat in silence for a moment.
Devon spoke first. ‘I feel sad, a bit empty, but elated too. Does that make sense?’
‘I think so. I feel the same way. We’ve loved her and lost her, but most of all we helped her. We did good, wifey,’ Stacey said.
Still Devon didn’t start the car. Instead, she turned in her seat.
‘Babe, could this be a sign? There are so many kids needing love already in the world. Children who have been hurt, neglected, abandoned. Is this what we’re supposed to do?’
Stacey considered the question before squeezing Devon’s hand. ‘Yes, Dee, I think this is exactly what we were meant to do.’
Eighty-Six
Kim wasn’t sure why she’d expected to see changes since the last time she’d been here. Maybe due to the enormity of recent events. But no, the place was still a shit tip.
‘Stay here, boy,’ Kim said, lowering Barney’s window.
His doleful expression said he was not impressed, even though they had barely been apart since she’d collected him from Charlie’s on Friday morning.
It had been the middle of the night when Bryant had dropped her back at home.
Exhaustion had meant that they’d spoken very little on the way home, both content that their killers had been caught and that Ava was safe. The only fly in the ointment had been not knowing whether Daniel would make it. The odds had not been on his side, but sheer determination had pulled him through, and Stacey’s regular updates had warmed her heart.
The detective constable was now on her way home after stepping up in an unbelievable fashion. There were no words to describe how her colleague had thought nothing of taking in a grief-stricken little girl and helping her on the road to recovery. The text message she’d received to say they were en route to the crime scene to take care of Ava had blown her away.
Once they’d arrived, she’d been able to focus on Donna and Eric.
After a few hours’ sleep, she had collected Barney and headed into the station, leaving him in Jack’s capable hands while she and Bryant had questioned the couple.
Donna’s interview hadn’t taken long. She had requested a lawyer before Kim finished giving the caution.
Eric was the complete opposite, eager to get it all off his chest without any legal counsel. He explained how Donna had got hold of the book that listed the old witches and their descendants. The book had been about ten years old, but it hadn’t been too hard to pick up the threads and identify all female living relatives of the original coven.
What had started as idle chatter had developed into a plan.
Eric had been honest about wanting the feud to stop, and eventually he’d come to believe that Donna’s plan was the only option. He’d always wanted children, but Donna had claimed it was impossible with the curse still active. If she gave birth to a boy, she’d be condemning him to an early death.
Donna had made contact with Ashley through Facebook to discover her movements. They had checked out her route. Penn’s witness had been right. Eric had stabbed Ashley, and Donna had been waiting in the car.
They had followed Nadine from her home for a few days before Eric had seized his chance at the pub. And Kim had been sitting in his living room while it had taken place.
His story about trying to see his mother had been a lie, which explained why Lena said she never heard him.
But it was Donna who had murdered Karen. The reiki healer had become suspicious when a woman arrived instead of the man she’d been expecting. Donna had taken it upon herself to kill Karen when Eric had expressed doubts about continuing.
Strangely, if they’d stopped at that point, they might never have been caught. But that wasn’t good enough for Donna. There was no point in any of it if even one female descendant survived.
Given time to think, that was the picture in Eric’s mind that wouldn’t go away, prompting him to tell the truth. He’d been seconds away from plunging that knife into the chest of an innocent seven-year-old girl.
