The Next Girl(Detective Gina Harte #1)(85)

Deborah had been lucky. Diagnosed with hypothermia, a serious infection and severe malnutrition, her road to recovery would be a long one, but with the help and strength of her family, Gina felt that she would be fine. The hospital was keeping her in until the infection was under control, but she was away from Wall. She was safe.

Jeff Wall had been taken to the station and charged. There was clear evidence of him mistreating and falsely imprisoning Deborah, and he’d be banged up for a long time. They’d listened to him wailing all night long from his cell, screaming that he loved her to the moon and the stars and everything in between. He’d continued by conversing with his dead mother and throwing his mattress around his cell. He’d been easy to crack and his interview had been one of the most satisfying of Gina’s career to date. Knowing he’d lost everything, he’d also confessed to killing Nicoleta Iliescu. His mother’s death, as per his confession, was apparently the fault of Deborah, who wouldn’t shut up. He’d also worked alone. No evidence had pointed to Nelson or Avery colluding with him.

As for Briggs, he’d been pleased that the case was closed. He’d smiled for a second when she’d told him of Deborah and Luke’s reunion. They’d enjoyed pizza at the station while getting through the mountain of work.

She continued walking until she reached Terry’s plot in the graveyard. ‘Terry Smithson, loving husband to Gina and father to Hannah, taken tragically but never forgotten and always in our hearts.’

She swallowed. Taken tragically, that much was true. But was it a tragic accident or self-defence or maybe even manslaughter? Her shoes became sodden as she stood in the muddy puddle beside the grave and closed her teary eyes. Her hand had touched his arm just before he fell down the stairs. She may have pushed him. She was certain she nudged him. She delayed calling an ambulance. Paramedics may have been able to save him.

She closed her umbrella, allowing the rain to mix with her tears. The last thing she wanted was for people to see her crying. They’d assume her tears were for Terry, when they were for herself this time, for the years he’d taken that could never be replaced, for the piece of her that she would never find again and for the years of guilt and angst.

She flinched as she felt a rough hand rubbing her neck. ‘The widow sobs. I see you’re still being a bitch, but it’s good you decided to actually come to your deceased husband’s memorial service.’ It was Steven, Terry’s brother. He reached over and stroked her hair.

‘Get your hands off me,’ she said as she turned and pushed him away.

‘Assaulting a civilian.’ He swayed back and forth, rain dripping down his pathetic face as he almost slipped in the mud beneath his boots. ‘What ever became of meek little Gina? Yes, Terry. No, Terry,’ he mimicked. ‘After he died, you took Hannah from us. You took her away.’ He moved forward and went to touch her face.

She blocked his hand, almost knocking him off balance. ‘You smell of weed. Just leave me alone.’

‘You smell of weed.’ His nose was nearly touching hers. Steven reminded her so much of Terry. Her heartbeat quickened. No one had yet arrived, and if they had, they’d probably head straight into the church with the weather being so bad. ‘What’s the big bad copper going to do about it?’

‘Get away from me or I’ll have you arrested for assault,’ she said.

‘Go ahead.’ He smirked as he went to stroke her hair.

She stepped forward and pushed him into the mud. ‘That was way more satisfying than getting you arrested,’ she said, laughing at the pathetic man lying in the mud. She looked up as she saw Hannah walking down the path.

‘Terry was right about you being a bitch,’ he replied.

‘Uncle Steven,’ Hannah called as she ran over to help him up.

‘Thanks, Hannah,’ he said as he grunted and walked back towards the church.

‘What happened?’ Hannah asked.

Gina laughed as she watched the mud-sodden man stagger towards the arriving party. ‘Your uncle has had one too many and stinks of weed. He just lost his balance and fell, that’s all.’ Yet another lie to go with all the others she carried around.

‘Thanks for coming. It means a lot to me, Mum.’

‘Come here,’ Gina grabbed her daughter and embraced her, taking in the delicate smell of her perfume and the feel of her soft hair. ‘I’m here for you, remember that.’

Hannah pulled away after a moment. ‘I saw the news before we came out. I’m proud of you, Mum. And I’m sorry. Shall we head into the church? It’s starting in about five minutes, we don’t want to be late. Besides, I’ve left Gracie with Nanny Hetty. You know what she’s like. She’s probably already fed her full of sweets.’

‘I’ll catch you up.’

‘Okay. Five minutes.’ Her daughter jogged towards the church, where she was greeted by Terry’s family.

Gina’s phone beeped. She opened the message. It was a photo of O’Connor covered in mud with a red nose and cheeks. He was holding a piece of paper with ‘I came 167th’ written on it. So much for romping the race. Gina smiled.

She noticed another text that must have arrived just before O’Connor’s. It was Briggs – Chris.

Shall we have a real celebration tonight? You, me, a real date.