The Death Messenger (Matthew Ryan Book 2)(116)
She was evil!
Those three short words were the only ones he’d heard Sophia speak, delivered with such venom that any sympathy he might have had for her evaporated. The fact that she’d spend the time she had left on this earth incarcerated was of no real consequence to either of them. Ryan felt sure that she was already in a prison of her own making.
O’Neil had taken the view that the media coverage surrounding Laura Stone’s documentary had been the flashpoint, fuelling a new and explosive anger to the point where Montgomery couldn’t stop. Bizarrely, she would get her way. Her story had already raised the profile of an issue she felt strongly about. She and her accomplice, Daniel Spencer, were splashed across every national newspaper, a situation that would remain until the two were indicted and handed a life sentence in a court of law.
Anja Pedersen had been Ryan and O’Neil’s solitary eyewitness. Without her sharp eye and attention to detail, Ryan was sure the investigation into the unlawful killing of four British citizens, at home and abroad, would have gone on longer – for months, possibly even years. He was grateful to the Danish librarian whose testimony would be pivotal to the case. Set to play a leading role in her own crime story, Pedersen would dine out on it for the rest of her life.
The cell door slammed shut on Sophia Montgomery. As campaigns go, hers had been an unprecedented success. After Ryan had done his stuff, she was rushed to court for a bail hearing, the car mobbed by waiting journalists keen to take her picture. She shooed away an offer to cover her face. Now she’d been caught, there was no point hiding. She craved the attention. As she stood in the dock while the Crown Prosecutor objected to her release in the most strenuous terms, she listened patiently. There was a moment when it looked like she might go free, but when the sitting magistrates were invited to clear the court, she knew she was in for a treat. A video, her video, appeared on the TV monitor in seconds, shocking a small but critical audience. Having finally made her screen debut, she was done. When magistrates remanded her in custody, she thanked them politely; maybe now people would think twice. Mark was gone. What else was there?
There was a final bit of housekeeping for Ryan and O’Neil. A murder file was being written up and submitted to the Crown Prosecution Service – someone else’s problem for an elite unit like theirs. The panic alarm had been removed from the home of James Fraser’s heartbroken mother. She, like Robert Parker and relatives of Lord Trevathan and Ambassador Paul Dean, had now been given permission to bury their dead. The search would go on for the body of Laura Stone. It was Ryan’s wish to return the brilliant documentary maker to her loved ones in the Ardèche region of France.
She was out there somewhere.
Ryan scanned the waves crashing onto the shoreline within sight of his tiny Northumberland hideaway, willing the sea to play its part, praying that storm-force winds now battering the region would bring Laura home. Newman and Grace arrived, hand in hand, happy to have spent their first Christmas together as man and wife. They cared less that they had been working. Neither was ready to abandon their investigative skills just yet. Their considerable expertise was vital to the unit – that was the word according to Grace. She’d practically begged O’Neil to take them on permanently.
Whether she would or not was anyone’s guess.
Caroline too had played her part. She and O’Neil were approaching from the south, Bob trundling along beside them, the historic remains of Dunstanburgh Castle in the distance. The two women appeared to be sharing a joke. Ryan hoped his twin was being discreet.
Suggesting they walk back to the cottage, Grace and Newman linked arms with Caroline. As the three walked off, Bob duly followed. O’Neil made no move to follow. She stared at Ryan, hands in pockets, hair flying in the wind – more alive than he’d seen her in weeks.
Intoxicating.
Her mood wasn’t easy to read as they sat on the sand together, an intimate moment for such a gaping landscape: a sweeping stretch of empty beach, a dramatic sky and roaring sea. There were times when silence spoke volumes and this was one of them. A flock of gulls headed inland, screeching as they flew overhead. A grey seal pup limped up the sand, separated from its mother in rough conditions. Like Sophia, Ryan wondered how long it would survive.
As if she felt his pain, O’Neil turned to face him as it began to snow, heavy flakes landing on her head and eyelashes before melting away. ‘You look like a kid at Christmas,’ O’Neil said playfully. ‘Close your eyes.’
Ryan was intrigued. ‘What for?’
‘Do it! I have a present for you.’
Ryan pointed at his chest. ‘For me?’
She looked around her. ‘I don’t see anyone else.’
‘Eloise, you shouldn’t have. I didn’t get you anything.’
‘We can share.’ She was trying not to laugh as she handed him a bag of nuts and a bottle of Babycham in gloved hands. There was so much he wanted to say but somehow it seemed less important now. The courage and veracity she’d shown in the face of Newman’s allegations was testament to the kind of woman she was. Not only had she closed the book on Forsythe, O’Neil had come out fighting and forgiven him for doubting her integrity. In Ryan’s mind, that was all that mattered. The unit would go on.