Retribution (Sebastian Trilogy Book 3) (11 page)

“Yes,
”
I whisper. “I understand. How much time do you think you need?
”
Shit, Beth, you just can’t help pushing.

“I will be the judge of that, Elizabeth. I will call you and let you know when she’s gone. The topic is closed to any further discussion.
”
The firm set of his jaw and steely resolve in his eyes are intimidating so it is definitely not wise to push further. My funny, complex, sexy Sebastian is not to be underestimated. He has a dark, edgy facet to his character that has shown itself before. “I’m going to head back to Cornwall now. I’ll be in touch.”

“You’re leaving me?
”
My mouth is laced with the acrid taste of panic, my voice croaky and pathetic but he’s standing and certainly looks intent on departing. “Won’t you stay with me tonight? Please?
”
Damn him, he’s making me beg but I need him so fiercely. I need him to reclaim me as his, to take me brutally until I scream his name.

“No. I don’t think it’s wise. I love you, but I need some time. Lots to sort out.
”
Does he mean that there is a lot to sort out in connection with evicting that woman?

“Of course, I understand. I’ll wait for you to call me.
”
A lone tear trickles down my cheek. He’s noticed it but makes no attempt to wipe it tenderly away; that hurts. It’s as though he doesn’t care quite as much. “It was good of you to come. I know Bella really appreciates it.
”
The champagne comes to mind. “Would you like to take some champagne home with you?
”
I ask him. “I’m sure Bella and the girls won’t have drunk it all…at least I hope not!”

“Keep it. You and Ruth can have it tonight.”

Watching Sebastian drive away kills me. It’s as though a piece of my soul has gone. I have no idea when I will hear from him or be in his arms again, but I have to be thankful that he seems to finally be in agreement with getting rid of Scarlett once and for all. I’ve no proof as to what that evil woman did to my family—or to me—but I know just the way to find out.

Chapter 12

The police station is a drab grey 1960s unimaginatively constructed building. Situated on a busy arterial road, it wasn’t difficult to locate and thankfully there is a parking space available into which I pull, my hands trembling as the engine is cut. Without an appointment, it’s possible that DI Chambers won’t be available but this couldn’t wait. Impetuous as ever, I’d jumped straight in the car after Sebastian left—afraid that if I delayed perhaps I may change my mind.

“Can I help you, Miss?
”
The desk clerk is an aged man with a ruddy complexion and kind face, his pale blue uniform shirt lightly crumpled, his pen well-chewed.

“May I please see DI Chambers? I understand he’s based in this police station.”

“Is he expecting you?
”
he asks, smiling kindly.

“Not exactly,
”
I tell him. “But he gave me his card and said I could get in touch with him any time.
”
I push the creased business card across the desk, beneath the protective screen separating us. He regards it closely but shakes his head. He tells me that he thinks the senior officer is out but puts through a call to his support staff; DI Chambers is indeed away for the rest of the day.
Damn
. Having built up the courage to come, I’m loath to delay what I have set out to do this afternoon. As I deliberate my options, a door is unlocked to my left and a uniformed officer appears, asking if he may help me in his superior’s absence. It’s not ideal, but I accept his invitation to follow him to a private interview room.

Officer 2973 Craig Waters, ‘Drip
’
to his colleagues he tells me with a hint of mirth, is an amiable young man. It may be that I’m getting older but police officers look so young to me these days. As do doctors. He leaves momentarily to fetch me a cup of coffee, having gratefully accepted his offer. The room is miniscule and depressing. I can understand why people confess to crimes in here, merely to escape the confines of this little cell. The only furniture comprises the table at which I am sitting, two black plastic chairs, a grey metal filing cabinet and a small corner table on which a wilted potted plant sits dejectedly. In the centre of the table is bolted a voice recording machine and a CCTV camera blinks from the ceiling to my right.

“Here you go, Mrs. Dove.
”
He places the mug on the pre-stained pine table and places a yellow folder in front of him, resting back on his chair with a leg folded across his knee. “I’ve got your file here. I see DI Chambers has been dealing with you so it’s probably better if he speaks to you next week. He’s on leave for a few days after today. Unless it’s urgent?”

“It is urgent. Yes.
”
Fiddling with my watch, a present from Sebastian, my longing for him increases but my intention is clear in my mind. Scarlett is going to be exposed as the murdering manipulator she is. “I want to file a Temporary Restraining Order against someone and I want to do it today.”

Sitting forward on his plastic chair now, his eyes lock with mine. He can’t fail to notice the hard determination evident in my expression. “I see. Do you believe your life to be in danger?
”
He takes a pen and small notebook from the breast pocket of his short-sleeved uniform shirt and opens the page, scribbling something that I can’t see.

“I believe a woman has repeatedly drugged or poisoned me with the intent to kill me.
”
His expression remains unreadable as he continues making notes. “Furthermore, I believe that the same woman is responsible for the deaths of my husband and son.
”
Breathe, Beth.

“Uh-huh.
”
He doesn’t look up from his notebook. “Would you please explain why you think this is so?”

“It’s in my notes.
”
I sigh, a little exasperated at the thought of trying to explain the entire story once more and certain that DI Chambers would have recorded Ruth’s telephone call in addition to his visit to my home and our conversation. PC Waters excuses himself and—tucking the folder under his arm—leaves me alone once more so that he can telephone DI Chambers and collect the necessary forms. A gentle vibration in my bag alerts me to a text message. Hoping that it’s Sebastian, I hurriedly retrieve it.

Hey sweet cheeks where are you? X

Ruth. I should have left a note for her. No wonder she’s worried.

Be back soon. Think there’s some champers left. Crack open a bottle, I need a drink! X

I slip my phone back in my bag, resisting the temptation to text Sebastian. My thoughts turn to Bella, hoping she’s having a wonderful time in town with her friends, anxious that she’s safe and mostly wondering where the years have gone. Joe would have grown into such a handsome young man. He’d have turned eighteen one day, causing me the same worry as my daughter, although it’s easier with boys—not the same sort of worries. He’d have gone to university, built a career and had a family of his own.

The cold fury builds in me with the contemplation of what Scarlett has taken. She has snatched not only the life of my son but of
his
sons. Their sons. Their grandchildren. Fuck. All the generations she has deprived this world of, and for what? To satisfy her own deranged need to gain the love of a man. My man. Glancing at the palms of my hands, the droplets of blood surprise me. I didn’t realise that I had been clenching my fists with such ferocity that my nails had cut my own flesh. Taking a tissue from my bag, I dab at the small wounds, relishing the pain; sometimes pain feels good. Pain is what I need to make me feel better.
Explain that to the psychiatrist, Beth, you fruit loop
.

The door opens and PC ‘Drip
’
returns, his stride more purposeful. He casts me a smile that tells me he no longer thinks I’m crazy. “Okay, Mrs. Dove. I’ve spoken with DI Chambers and he’s in agreement that you proceed with the Temporary Restraining Order. He’s also asked that our medic take some blood samples once you’ve signed the papers. Is that okay?
”
Nodding my acceptance, we set to work going through the forms together.

The on-call doctor arrives at five o’clock, nearly two hours after the call is put through for him to attend and take my blood sample. After several texts to and from Ruth, I’m sure there will be little champagne left for me by the time I get home. I badly need a drink. The doctor is friendly enough, dutifully taking two vials of blood and completing his forms. He tells me the results will be phoned through to me as soon as they are available, and they won’t go through my own doctor.

As he picks up his leather attaché case, he turns me and asks, “I just need to check, are you on any medication at the moment?
”
I can’t lie, but it will be recorded in my notes that I’m on anti-depressants. Of course, I haven’t actually taken a single one.

“Yes. I take anti-depressants. I have them here.
”
The doctor takes the packet from me and writes down the dose and name of the tablets. “Will they show in my blood?
”
My cheeks flush with guilt.

“They will, yes. It’s a full toxicology screen,
”
he replies before departing with a curt nod.

PC ‘Drip
’
shakes my hand firmly at the door. “We’ll be in touch, Mrs. Dove, as soon as we have any news. The boss is liaising with the police where Scarlett lived previously so we should have a fuller profile of the young lady shortly.
”
He extends a hand and grasps mine firmly.

“Thank you so very much for listening…for believing me.”

“It’s my job, Mrs. Dove. Don’t mention it. You take care now, okay? You need to call us if she makes any attempt to contact you or come near you. The TRO will be processed this evening so it’s as good as done.”

***

Ruth pours champagne for us both and chats light-heartedly about Bella and her friends. My daughter called during the drive home: she sounded drunk but very happy. The maternal worry has set in. It’s a cool, early summer evening, almost cool enough for the central heating. English summers generally live up to expectations of being unpredictable and today is no exception. Cuddled under a fleece blanket with Ruth, sipping champagne with my best friend and knowing that the wheels have been set in motion to bring about the demise of Scarlett and the restoration of my relationship, I feel a sense of peace that has eluded me for a very long time.

“What have you done, Beth?
”
Ruth could always read me like a book. She has her legs extended over my lap and is trying to steal the blanket. “You seem different. Spill the beans.”

“I did it, Ruth. I went to the police and filed the restraining order against Scarlett.”

Ruth spits a mouthful of champagne over the blanket, her eyes wide in disbelief. “You did what? Without me?
”
She reaches for the near empty bottle and tops up her glass before putting the bottle to her lips and draining the last drops. “Fucking hell, Beth. You do realise all hell is going to break loose now, don’t you?
”
She shakes her head in admonishment and drains her glass, as do I.

“Yes, sorry.
”
My cheeks flush. “I would have asked you to come but it was a rather last minute decision. When Sebastian left me, it just felt like my only option to save us. She has to leave if he wants me back, Ruth. Under the terms of the order, she can’t be in the same place as me. I’m not sure how to tell him, though. He’s going to be furious initially so it’s going to require tact and timing.”

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Beth? He could view it as malicious.”

“I’m sure. I’m doing this for Joe and Alan too, and for Bella. Please trust me. I know I’ve done some crazy things in my life but this is the right thing to do. I have to right the mistakes I’ve made and this is the first step.”

Ruth leans forward and embraces me tightly. “Don’t be hard on yourself, Beth. Yes, you’ve made some mistakes—some howlers—but the accident wasn’t your fault. Anyway, whatever you do, know that your best friend and partner in crime is right alongside you.
”
The first seeds of doubt sprout forth in my mind. If Sebastian does view this as a malevolent act, it could be the end of our relationship, but then we’re screwed if I don’t do something; Scarlett will never leave willingly. Sebastian said he would evict her, but then she gets away with murder. No. I have done the right thing, as time will tell.

Sleep evades me in spite of the champagne. I can’t switch off until I know Bella is home safely. She sent a text message at midnight to say they were having a ball and going to a third nightclub. The clock beside me glows 2:45 and still she’s not home. I tell myself not to worry, with distant memories of my own eighteenth birthday and the worry I caused my parents. Still, I feel restless. The mobile phone display is blank, just the time and date blinking at me. I tap out a message to Sebastian.

Hi darling. I miss you. Can’t slee
p
’til Bella’s home xxx

Hitting the ‘send
’
button, I can visualise him in bed, his messy hair flopping slightly over one eye, dark shadowed jaw relaxed and his powerful legs on top of the white linen. He always gets so hot in bed. Hell! He
is
hot in bed. Letting the phone drop onto the duvet, my fingers travel to my wet folds, circling my throbbing clit in a rhythmic, quickening effort to quench my sexual need for him. The mobile phone vibrates beside me. Sebastian. With my available hand, I answer the call, my breathing laboured, climax so deliciously close.

“Sebastian,
”
I rasp, maintaining the steady rubbing, my pussy so wet that my fingers glide and slip over my pulsing nub.

“Elizabeth. What are you doing awake at this hour? You need your rest.
”
The deep, sleepy growl of his voice intensifies my arousal still further. All I can do is breathe into the phone like a pervert. “What are you doing?
”
His words hang expectantly.

“Touching myself…thinking of you.”

His breath catches. I hear the rustle of sheets and his breathing quickens. “Is that so? Well, well, my naughty girl. Describe precisely what you are doing.
”
I suspect that he is doing the same. He moans into the phone and commands, “Tell me.”

My back arches as I slide one, then two fingers deep into my soaking channel. “Finger fucking myself,
”
I purr. “I wish it was your cock. Need you. So much.
”
Orgasm is moments away, I can feel it building. Just one more flick of my clit and I will be lost.

“Fuck,
”
he pants. “I’m. Stroking. My. Cock. Fuck. So hard for you. I’m oozing, baby.
”
His words are my undoing. The orgasm wracks my body from my core. The fire sweeps through me, crying out his name as the tremors persist. As I become aware of him once more, he rasps, “Good girl. Oh. Fuck. Here it comes,
”
and he shouts my name as he finds his own release.