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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

A man. Man. Man.

Robert pressed his palms against his ears in an attempt to stop that one word from echoing inside his head.

Man. Man. Man.

He shut his eyes and tried to take stock of what was happening. Ever since Cheryl had placed Nina inside that building on the night of Anne’s death, his gut had connected Nina to Anne’s murder. And hadn’t the police found one body inside that building, and it matched Anne’s DNA? Besides, Shah had also reported Nina for starting the fire.

There was enough evidence against the journalist. Only… He dropped his hands and heard it. The hiccupped sobs. It wasn’t him who was crying but Nina.

Before he knew what the hell he was doing, Robert wrapped her in his arms. Her entire body shook, her tears hot and raw. It took all his strength to hold her steady, and his fifteen years’ experience in responding to mental health emergencies to stick it out.

He recognised the release of pent-up emotion, the turmoil finally breaking past the dam and gushing out. Hell, he’d seen it in her eyes that first time he’d met her. That vulnerability had drawn him in, like a fish caught on a line.

Even though her face had been pressed against his neck, he remembered her in that alley, filled with stress, fear and strength. The sort he’d seen in the eyes of people who had no one else in the world – orphans, outcasts, new immigrants and Nina…

Back then, he’d thought she’d been grieving something. Then chalked it up to her studying her handiwork and feeling remorse for what she’d done to Anne.

Robert ran a hand over Nina’s back. Just like he’d hoped she would, she’d confessed to killing someone… Well, she thought she’d killed someone. He needed clarification on that. But… she’d confessed to killing a man. A man.

Could she be lying as a last futile attempt to save herself?

Robert let out a sigh. Murder. That would explain why she was on the run. And perhaps even why Shah was after her.

But… if, like Shah had claimed, she’d started the fire, Shah had to have been there too. After all, according to Nina, he’d been chasing her since she’d left Walls Street that night.

The police report had placed the time of the 999 call in the wee hours of the morning. Half four or something like that. And if they didn’t want the police poking their noses into their business, the pub would be shut by 1 a.m., 2 a.m. at the latest. That would leave two and a half hours for someone to set that fire without any casualties.

And Anne. Where did she feature in all this? They’d matched her DNA to the scene. But what scene exactly?

Robert wasn’t privy to the police report. He’d just been told his wife’s DNA had been found at the crime scene. Was it inside the pub, or was it in the rest of the building… or the top floor where Nina had been?

Leaning back in the sofa with a sniffling Nina in his arms, Robert ruminated. The more he thought about it, the more holes he poked in his theory. Aye, he had gut instincts, and while they’d led him to Nina, they now implored him to look at this situation more closely. To turn each of the puzzle pieces to reveal what colour they added to the picture.

From where he sat, he knew very little.

When Nina’s sobs finally died down, he peeled her away from him. Could she be trusted? Could he trust her?

If the turmoil on her face was anything to go by, she hadn’t lied. But she’d held this enormous secret for so long. Surely, she could be acting?

Robert swallowed. ‘Why do you think you killed him?’

Nina shook her head, swallowing a couple of times before she answered, ‘It wasn’t your wife. I swear to you, I did not kill a woman.’

Pushing up from the sofa, Robert grimaced. His legs had almost gone numb from sitting so still for so long. But in that time, an idea had sprouted. Nina was an investigative journalist. He hated people in her vocation with a passion. They were leeches, liars and selfish arseholes. But if he flipped it around, a couple of months ago, he had held his uniform in the highest regard. Now that he’d taken a step back and looked at it from another angle, things appeared grey. No one had believed him when he’d said that fire hadn’t been an accident or that Anne had been murdered. Cheryl and Joshua had his back, but did they truly believe him?

As much as it pained him to say, Cheryl and Joshua had very little skin in this game – they both had their jobs and families. The only other person besides him who had everything on the line was the woman on the sofa.

Robert only had two options: turn Nina in for the murder of a man the police hadn’t declared to have been found dead in that building, or…

Robert turned to Nina, his hand raised… for a handshake. ‘You help me find out what happened to my wife, and I’ll help you figure out what happened to you that night.’

Aye, his ingenious plan involved the two of them together like the strands of thread that created a tartan pattern. Them against the world…

She peeked up at him. ‘You’re a police officer.’

He had thought about it: his job, his career, his values… If she agreed, he’d be teaming up with the woman he’d believed had killed his wife. And if it turned out that Nina had in fact killed Anne, he could be arrested for obstructing justice as well as aiding a criminal. However, when comparing these repercussions to where he was now – months with no breakthrough, no lead in sight – Robert felt desperation burning in his gut.

He wanted answers, the law be damned. Besides… ‘I was also a husband who let down his wife. I will correct my mistake.’

Nina bit her lip.

He watched her mull it over, perhaps running a list of pros and cons like he had. The stakes on either side were personal and dire.

Robert knew the second she made her mind up. Her soft hand wrapped around his, sending a bolt of electricity zinging from his head all the way to the balls of his feet.

Nina stood up, but her voice wasn’t more than a whisper. ‘I’ll help you.’ She nodded. ‘I want my life back. And for once, going at it alone won’t get me where I want to be.’

This might be his worse idea ever, the most deranged one yet. But they shook hands, caution evaporating in the wind. Then Robert bobbed his head. ‘First up, let’s get the facts straight.’