The Doll's House - [58]

Sinead had come to a complete halt now, so finally Lloyd leant over, placing a reassuring arm on hers, while redirecting her attention to the script they had signed off on before the press conference began. Sinead looked at him through sodden eyelashes, then, summoning some last vestige of composure, continued her appeal.

‘Roisin was a beautiful… caring mother and daughter.’

Another long pause, as Sinead drew breath.

‘She has been cruelly taken from us and someone out there knows why. If you have any information about my Roisin’s disappearance… please, please contact the police. She had suffered so much in her short life. A father who abandoned her. A boyfriend who did the same. She deserved so much more from life, but never got it.’

Finally, she looked up from the table and stared right into the nearest TV camera.

‘Don’t let her murder go unpunished.’

94

‘Don’t let her murder go unpunished.’ The blubbering bitch seemed to look directly at him as she said it. He swore violently at her, what did she and her slut of a daughter know about suffering?

The exertion of shouting at the TV brought the pain crashing back again. He was lying on the sofa in the filthy living room, an ice-pack clamped to the back of his head. Empty packets of Naproxin, super-strength Ibuprofen that he’d been prescribed some years earlier, littered the floor. He had taken four times the recommended dose, but it didn’t seem to be making much difference. It was like the worst migraine he’d ever had – a deep, insistent throbbing at the back of the skull.

Worse than all of this, however, was the pain of Summer’s betrayal. How had he been tricked so easily? And so cruelly? She seemed to have returned to him, to want to please him, but actually she was carefully planning her attack, waiting until his heart was open and his guard was down.

Despite the fact that he was concussed, he had dragged her back to her cell by her hair and once there delivered a beating that was savage and unremitting. It shocked him to realize that he had no idea how long it went on for or even if she had survived the attack. Eventually he had run out of steam and then the full extent of her subterfuge became clear. How she had removed the metal strut from the side of the bed, then propped up the bed with one of the chairs to make it look intact, so she could enjoy the element of surprise. What a mug he had been – all those cosmetic purchases from Boots had been designed to lay her hands on something metal. Why had he not seen this?

Rising from the sofa, stuffing two more Naproxin in his mouth, he vowed not to be so naïve again. She had tricked him once – he wouldn’t let her do so again. From now on things were going to be very different.

95

Ruby lay in the darkness. She was sweating and shivering, her body reacting with confusion to the severe blood loss and fractured bones. She had lost consciousness early on in the attack, repeated rabbit punches to her face and neck ending the fight quickly. When she had eventually come to, the pain was kept momentarily at bay by the shock – and horror – of finding that she was still alive. For the first time in her life she truly wished she were dead.

Had he broken her jaw? Her ribs? She couldn’t tell. Everything hurt and everywhere was sticky – cloyed blood clinging doggedly to her mouth, face and hair. Why had he spared her? She had attacked him. Would have killed him if she had had more presence of mind. Would he come back to finish the job?

Suddenly Ruby was pushing herself up. She hadn’t thought to – she was acting on instinct now, the thought of more suffering driving her on. Pain coursed through her – shooting from her rib cage to the very centre of her brain – but she managed to get to her hands and knees. Immediately she vomited, but she was on the move now and paid no heed to that, turning away and crawling towards the bed. It was still propped up by the chair and seemed to offer her sanctuary now. Swiftly she scuttled underneath, pulling the blanket down around her, hiding her from view.

She wasn’t safe here, but it felt better to be concealed. Clasping her hands together, Ruby found herself muttering mangled prayers once more. Her words were garbled, their meaning confused, but the sentiment was clear. This time Ruby wasn’t praying for deliverance. She was praying for death.

96

DC Sanderson scanned this way and that, searching for danger. The lock-up she was scoping was at the end of a needle-strewn alleyway in Portswood. There was no street lighting, no CCTV, you could vanish off the face of the earth here and no one would be any the wiser. She cursed herself for continuing her survey of Simpson’s properties alone – she should never have allowed station politics to jeopardize her safety. That was the first rule in the book.

She turned to leave, anxious to be out of this fetid alleyway. She had had high hopes for this property. It was remote and isolated, and had not appeared in their first sweep of Simpson’s holdings. For reasons that weren’t clear, the freehold for this property seemed to be in Simpson’s late wife’s name. This might have been a historic oversight or for tax purposes, but Sanderson doubted it. Everything Simpson did was premeditated and controlled. Nothing was left to chance. But on arrival it quickly became clear that there were no potential witnesses in this part of town and there was little hope of gaining access. There was only one entrance and this was covered in padlocks and chains – there was no way of circumventing the lack of a search warrant.