“You’re still under caution,” Saint said. “We might ask you to come back in.”
“If you find any evidence to warrant that,” the solicitor added, “otherwise, you are free to go, Matty.”
Matty flung her arms round his neck. “Thank you.”
“You’re quite welcome.” He reached past her to open the door. “Good evening, detectives.”
***
Outside, Matty stood and tried to think. She couldn’t go home. No clothes. No phone. Everything was back at the flat, locked up with the rest of it.
By the time they’d processed her and handed back her wallet, keys, and the sad little packet of chewing gum they’d taken off her, it was almost two.
The cold air got straight through her. No jacket, just a thin top, and she could feel it in her arms. Her stomach gave a hollow twist, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since—when?Hours ago, she realised.
There was only one place she could go at this hour. Nothing else was open. The town had shut down hours ago. She knew she couldn’t afford a hotel, and her home was off-limits.
Pulling her wallet free, she checked how much money she had, then walked back into the police station.
There was a phone on the wall. The sticky ‘Free Taxi Line’ sticker had been picked at and almost peeled away. She lifted the receiver and listened as it rang twice before a grumpy, half-asleep voice said, “Tony’s Cars.”
“I need a ride from the police station.”
“Where to?”
She gave him the address, hung up, and unknowingly sat down to wait on the same plastic chair Sloan had sat in earlier.
***
The taxi pulled up outside Sloan’s house thirty minutes later. Matty handed him a note, saying, “Keep the change.”
She’d considered asking him to wait, but for what? To take her back into town to freeze on a bench? The cold had already got into her bones, and she couldn’t stop the shiver that kept running through her. There was no other choice. One way or another, she was waking Sloan up.
Looking up at the house, she could see the upstairs landing light was still on.Was it a good sign someone was still awake?
She’d spent the last hour wondering what Sloan thought about Matty standing her up like that. Of course she’d be upset.
She’d be furious.
***
Sloan had tossed and turned, thumping the pillow in frustration. Tonight should have been different.
Cocktails. Dinner. Home. Bed. Tangled up together. Arms and legs knotted. Tongues battling for control.
Instead, she’d spent it worrying, staring up at the ceiling in the dark, exhausted, flitting between sleep and being awake. She rolled over and got comfortable again. Something was off, though. She stilled, listening intently.
Sloan heard a noise.
A tapping—gentle at first, then louder.
The landing light spilled a thin strip under the bedroom door. The house was too quiet—the kind of quiet that made small sounds feel like someone was breaking in. It wasn’t coming from her Mum’s room, but further away.
She pushed herself up, stomach dropping. Pulling on her dressing gown, she stepped out on to the landing, holding her breath to listen.
There it was.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Pause. Then again.
