The Death Messenger (Matthew Ryan Book 2)(107)

She hesitated long enough for him to wonder why. What might she have been doing at this time last year: champagne breakfast, early hairdo, spa? He imagined her celebrating her last morning of freedom as a single woman, blissfully unaware of what would happen to her later in the day. Hilary Forsythe would have been joyful too, getting ready to receive her into his family. His benevolent words arrived in Ryan’s head . . .

You take good care of her.

She yielded. ‘How did you know?’

‘It wasn’t hard to work out. He loves you dearly. You’re not the only one affected by what happened a year ago, Eloise. You need to give the guy a break.’ She dropped her head, resumed reading her newspaper, shutting him out for the rest of the morning.

‘This is BBC Radio Newcastle. Breaking news at midday. In Devon, the flooded River Lemon claimed the life of a forty-six-year-old man who died trying to rescue a dog. Witnesses say the man was swept away shortly before noon after gale-force winds and persistent rain battered the southwest of the country. Despite the efforts of Devon and Cornwall Police, the man bystanders hailed a hero could not be resuscitated. The animal survived . . .’

Ryan noticed Caroline stroking Bob’s head. He killed the radio, cutting off the distressing report and logged on to his computer. Within a few minutes, he was engrossed in the Sauer’s chat room. It wasn’t long before he stumbled across something that caught his interest. He didn’t say anything but, responding to his preoccupation, O’Neil raised her head.

‘Ryan? Have you found something?’

‘Not sure.’ He scrolled down the page. ‘This chat stream makes interesting reading. Someone who calls herself broken-kiss – assuming that’s a female – claims her father went to see a brief in order to stop his wife from having a second child. The lawyer who took the case failed to secure a court order.’

‘Any names mentioned?’

‘No. She refers to a “him”, so it’s definitely a male. More importantly, she’s talking to dude1980.’

‘Keep checking.’

Caroline used Ryan’s room to get ready to go out. O’Neil was dressing for dinner too. When her bedroom door opened, out of habit Ryan stood up. She looked amazing in a fitted black dress, killer heels, a string of tiny pearls and a pair of exquisite drop earrings to match. It was the style of a bygone era, reminiscent of a lead character in a fifties movie. She was glamour personified but, in spite of the effort she’d made, she didn’t appear happy.

Ryan’s bedroom door opened and Caroline entered the living room.

‘Wow! You two are really going for it.’ He felt more comfortable lumping them together in one compliment. It gave him a good excuse to stare. Caroline’s hair was up and she looked lovely, if more Bohemian in style. Like O’Neil, she was fully made up. Ryan had never understood how she managed that. He couldn’t brush his teeth without a mirror.

O’Neil checked her watch, slipped her phone into a silver clutch bag.

‘You need to leave that here, guv. Just in case.’ He hadn’t given Spielberg his number. If she phoned, it would be on Eloise’s device.

‘Yes, I better had.’

Ryan held up his mobile. ‘Want to take mine?’

‘No, Forsythe has several and you have his number. I’ll be fine.’ She took the mobile out of her bag but hung on to it. ‘Let me call Hilary and the kids quickly. I’d like to wish them a Happy Christmas before I go.’

As she made the call, Ryan walked to the window, feeling like a shit for passing on the opportunity to stay over with Jack’s family. Outside of the job, Hilary Fenwick was his best friend. She hadn’t complained – she knew he was working – although she was very disappointed.

Down on the street below, Forsythe’s Porsche cruised towards the building. Several floors above, Ryan heard the throaty roar of the Carrera’s engine as it changed gear, entering the underground car park. There was no way Forsythe’s dinner guest would take her chances in the rain.

Moments later, the doorbell rang.

Ryan swung round.

O’Neil hung up as he walked towards her. Panic rose in her eyes – a plea almost – she didn’t want to go. Not tonight. As she offered him her mobile, their hands touched briefly, a moment charged with electricity. Her scent was divine. This close, he could see how very beautiful she was. What must she have looked like in a wedding dress? For the first time in his life, Ryan felt jealous of another man.

The doorbell again.

Ryan shook hands with Forsythe as he let him in.

As the two men walked into the living room, O’Neil’s mobile rang in Ryan’s hand. She almost lunged forward to take it from him, grateful for the excuse to answer. Any justification to delay her dinner date was welcome. Much as she loved Hilary Forsythe – Ryan had no doubt that she did – this was one engagement she could well do without.

She raised her eyes from the screen.

‘Operation Shadow,’ she said.

Caroline promised to keep quiet and wished her twin the best of luck. Forsythe nodded for him to take the call. Taking the phone from Eloise, a deep breath in at the same time, Ryan put the phone on speaker so they could listen in. It was THE most important call he’d ever take.

‘Marge, thanks for ringing! And on Christmas Eve! And there was me thinking we’d fallen out.’