Page 97 of The Unforgiven

“Every bit.” I nodded, noticing Jenna’s odd expression.

“Mia, can I have a word? Although this might not be the best time.” She stepped closer.

Vinny made himself scarce, heading over towards Wrigley.

“I’m okay about everything with Nate. Just don’t hurt him.” The words were there without thinking about them.

She gave a half-laugh, looking away from me towards the garages. “I wanted to say something a while ago, but I didn’t know what. I know things with you are complicated.”

“Everything’s complicated. Nate especially.” I was glad he was here now though, in Manchester. For the first time in our lives we were in the same city. Common ground.

She shook her head. “He’s not that complicated and he wanted to be closer to you. I was just the excuse, whatever you might think.”

“It’s a big thing though, either way.”

“It is. I’m hoping it’s the right one, whatever his main reason for being here was. I’ll leave you to it. I have a crime scene to comb.” She gave me a smile and backed away. “Everyone’s saying how brave you were, Mia. You did well.”

“Thank you.”But I could’ve done better.

Wrigley made his way over, Vinny still with him, giving me a nod of approval, slight enough that it could go unnoticed. “Boss.”

“Mia. Well done. Although we need to talk about the years you just took off my life when I knew what was happening.” He patted me on the shoulder. Me, him and Vinny standing in a triangle, still, while the mania of CSI and coppers and helicopters stirred a maelstrom around us.

“Yeah. Well, it was the only thing I could do.” I looked at Vinny as I said the words. “I know I need to give a statement, but I really need a shower first. Can I go home and shower and get changed?”

Wrigley nodded. “Vinny can give you a lift. We won’t be interviewing Justine Bellamy till tomorrow morning at the soonest. You’re certain that she’s Kelly-Anne Marsh?”

“Completely. We’ll be able to track that back. The real Justine Bellamy’s in Maryland. Kelly-Anne wanted a fresh start; she knew Justine was moving abroad so she assumed her identity. At some point she’d have been in an office with an opportunity to find out Justine’s personal information. She restarted here, with Daniel Fletcher as one of her tutors, probably all the while finding out what happened with the Aberwyn girls, planning revenge. We need to find out from Sophie exactly what happened when they locked her in that cellar.” I needed to find out Daniel’s part in this.

My blood ran cold thinking about him. Thinking about his lecture, his upcoming study into women who kill, the notes I’d glanced over that recorded conversations he’d had with Justine.

With me.

A confession, years ago, the first person I told that I’d been sexually abused by my gymnastics coach, but I’d never said a word, terrified that my foster parents would be accused of not having safeguarded me and I’d be relocated to a children’s care home, because no one wants a fifteen-year-old foster kid. The coach had said that to me, manipulated me, picked on the scab of vulnerability that I was a burden and no one wanted me anyway.

So I stopped gymnastics and for the first time in my life, asked Stan for something. Muay Thai lessons. I wanted to learn how to fight and then I never stopped.

I’d told Daniel at the end of my first year, when I struggled with the second thing Stan had given me, tuition fees and a sum of money to cover rent, food and books, no conditions made.

Dirty money. Money that had killed my mother. Money that’d seen me brought up as a charity case.

Daniel had convinced me that the best way to get my revenge was to follow my plan to join the police and be the very thing that Stan wouldn’t want, only that didn’t work.

He’d told me he was proud of me, because I was following my dreams, and all a parent wants is for their child to be happy.

“Let me get changed. Freshen up, and Vinny and I will go to the hospital.”

We continued to move forward, in search of what might bring us peace.

Chapter Forty-Two

It was ten minutes back to Didsbury with the way Vinny drove and his knowledge of the back streets, which was better than any taxi driver, or Satnav. I didn’t speak, clutching the handle and watching the scenery, clearing my head and trying to think of absolutely nothing.

It was the come down from the high, the adrenaline crash, my body going numb while it tried to stabilise its levels of cortisol and all the other hormones that it’d released to keep me alive, make me brave. Or stupid.

Vinny pulled up outside my flats and turned the engine off. “Can I wait inside? I’m dying for a piss.”

“Try not to shag any of Lucy’s colleagues. I know it’s difficult because for some reason, women seem to fall at your feet with their legs spread, but keep it in your trousers for now, yeah?” I opened the car door, getting out and slamming it with some satisfaction.