Chapter Twenty-Three

Chad stared down at his murky reflection. He breathed out, and the top of his coffee rippled. Keeley waited, with patient kind eyes, she waited for him to speak.

The session so far had been one-word answers to her questions.

She prompted him to say more with nods, but he couldn't.

There were no words.

His throat had gone dry.

Merc lay on the floor by Keeley's feet, chomping his rawhide bone. He kept stopping to glance at Chad. Even Merc could tell he was only just holding it together. Josh and Ally had rallied around him like they said they would. Romeo had stopped punishing himself by putting distance between them. He'd been more overwhelming than normal, and when a car pulled up outside their house to throw a brick through the window, Chad had to anchor himself to Romeo to stop him flying outside and chasing down the driver.

"It might help if you talk," Keeley tried. "If you can't tell me in words per say, you could tell me in emotions and we'll go from there."

He didn't drink his coffee, but it cooled in his hands.

"Exhausted." Chad managed.

Keeley watched as he touched his face. The circles beneath his eyes were dark, and his usually smooth jaw had grown patchy stubble he'd forgotten to shave off that morning.

"You're not sleeping," she said softly.

"I fall asleep, but my dreams wake me up."

"Dreams about?"

"Marc, Tate, Vincent, Lucy," Chad shook his head. "It's like my subconscious is attacking me, it wants to stop me from sleeping. It wants to punish me."

"You speak about your subconscious like it's a different entity."

"It's the detective," Chad snorted to himself. "He doesn't want to go quietly."

"The detective," Keeley frowned. "You mean…"

"Myself," Chad clarified. "That part of me... the one that's supposed to be selfless and protect the public and uphold the law. That part I failed."

"You did what you had to do to survive—"

Chad held up his hand to stop her. "I don't want to talk about Lucy."

Keeley nodded.

"Cornered." Chad said.

"Cornered?" Keeley tilted her head.

"You said I should say what I feel like right now. I feel cornered."

"It's understandable. The press attention should ease … eventually."

"Have you read what they're saying about me on social media?"

"No." Keeley said firmly. "You shouldn't read that either. It's toxic."

"And the news reports," he sighed, "and the papers."

Chad put his coffee down on the side table.

"Holly Stevenson is enjoying herself." Chad swallowed back his bitterness the best he could. "She lives in LA now, has a big apartment and lots of journalist friends. She has a channel, and a podcast, and she is spewing out hate for me like you couldn't believe."

Keeley bit her lip. "Can't the police do something—"

"The police," Chad chuckled without humor. "They won't help me. Superintendent Peter Watts has made sure of that. My professional reputation is in tatters."

It was supposed to be an internal enquiry on a need-to-know basis, but of course Peter had spread details around Alborough, and they'd spread to other areas, including Bardhum. Josh had wanted to keep Chad out of the loop, but Ally said Chad had a right to know what was being said about him.

"If I was on fire, the police would stand back and warm their hands on me."

"Chad…"

"It's true."

"It might feel like that—"

"It's true."

Keeley looked away. "I'm really worried about you."

"That's sweet."

"I think you might need some extra … help."

"That's why I'm here," he snorted. "I didn't want to come today."

"I'm glad you changed your mind."

"I didn't. Frank convinced me."

Keeley lowered her gaze. "When I mentioned extra help. I meant medication. I'm a therapist. I can't prescribe you anything, but maybe your doctor—"

"I don't need anything."

"Not even something to help you sleep?"

He shook his head.

Keeley slumped. "Okay."

She noted something down.

"Are Josh, Ally and Frank being supportive?"

Chad thought of them and immediately felt lighter. They cleared the dark fog in his head and let his words come easier.

"They're great. Josh and Ally, I couldn't wish for better friends, and Frank … he keeps me sane. I love him, and he loves me, and no one can touch that."

Keeley sighed. For the first time during the session, she smiled. "Keep them close."

"I will."

"Have you given any thought to what you want to do now you're no longer a detective?"

Chad shook his head. "Not yet, it's still quite raw."

"It's only been a few weeks since—

"Two weeks and five days," Chad said. "Do you remember what I told you Vincent said to me when I first visited him?"

Keeley's mouth opened. She glanced at her notebook. "I probably wrote—"

"He said if I denied him his time, he'd poison mine." Chad snorted down at his hands. "Two weeks and five days is how long it took for the world to turn on me."

"The world isn't against you, Chad."

"It feels like it."

"The bullies of the world just shout the loudest, but they are by no means the majority."

"I only know three people that are on my side."

"Four." Keeley's gaze cut him. It softened. "And one very loveable dog."

Merc looked up at her, smacked his lips together, then resumed gnawing his treat.

"Four people and one Merc," Chad sighed. He closed his eyes. "Sorry, it's just…Vincent swore he'd poison my life, and I feel it, I feel the effects of it. I'm tired. I'm unmotivated. I'm depressed. I feel … unwell. And I don't know how to make it better. I worry that I'll just make the people around me sick, too."

"Stop that," Keeley interrupted. "You've been through so much, Chad. It's only been two weeks and five days since … since everything changed for you. It'll take time. The bullies and the trolls will lose interest, and you'll be able to move on and start a new chapter. Don't let Vincent Whitehall win. Don't be one of his victims."

"I won't be." He nodded to himself. "Everything is just a lot right now."

"It's okay to take a break."

"That's what Frank keeps saying."

Keeley smiled again. "He's a wise man."

"Taking a break feels kind of like running away."

"What's wrong with running away?"

Chad frowned.

Keeley shrugged. "If you were running away from a lion would that be considered cowardly?"

"No."

"No," she agreed. "Fighting that lion head on while you're tired and sick would be considered foolish. Get away for a while. Turn off the TV, switch off your phone, and be you, Chad. Come back stronger. Come back healthy … that's if you want to come back at all."

"What do you mean?"

"You don't have to fight the lion. This place … it holds so many bad memories. You don't have to stay here. You can let go. You can move on."

"People will think—"

"Why do you care so much what people think? Why do you value their opinions over your own happiness? You have this idea that your worth only comes from others—without their approval, you're worthless. It's an unhealthy mindset that you need to work on."

"I know."

Merc finished his rawhide and sat up. He eyeballed Keeley, begging for more.

"Greedy boy," she laughed.

"At least he took his time today." Chad said. He grabbed Merc's lead off the couch.

"Same time next week?" Keeley asked.

Chad nodded. He jangled Merc's chain, and he rushed to heel.

"Take care of yourself," Keeley said.

He smiled weakly. "I'm trying."

When he passed through reception, all eyes snapped to him. Pam shot him a smile, but it soon fell when someone tutted loudly. She ducked behind her reception desk, and tapped away on her laptop as he went by.

As soon as Chad was through the door he exhaled the breath he'd been holding. The cool air brushed around his neck and he shivered. Merc whined up at him.

"I'm okay," he said, but even to his own ears his voice was hollow. "Shall we go home?"

Merc wagged his tail.

Chad took a step off the curb, only to freeze at the truck racing towards him. Its brakes squealed, drawing more eyes. A red-faced Andrew jumped out. He rushed at Chad, gripped him by the biceps and flung him at the wall.

Chad's teeth clicked together. His biceps burned where Andrew still had hold of him, digging his fingers in until Chad was certain his skin would bruise.

"My mom's dead because of you!"

Chad didn't argue against Andrew's wrath. He didn't try and reason with him either.

"She wanted your help finding her sister, but she didn't want to involve you. She told me you'd already been through so much. She tried to protect you and you … you betrayed her."

Chad's gaze snapped to Andrew's. Fury reddened the white of Andrew's eyes.

"She told me what you did. She told me how you suspected her. It hurt her. You broke her."

Andrew eased Chad away from the wall just so he could shove him at it again. The back of Chad's head cracked against the brickwork. Merc growled.

"Shit!"

Chad glanced to the doorway he'd come through to find Pam, biting her lip.

"I'll call the police—"

"There's no point." Chad said.

"Admit it." Andrew said. "Admit it was your fault."

Chad swallowed, about to do just that, but a croaked voice cut in, and loosened Andrew's hold on Chad's arms.

"It wasn't Detective Fuller's fault."

Chad looked past Andrew to the red truck. The driver's door had been left open by Andrew when he flew across the carpark to confront Chad, but now when he looked, the back passenger door was open, too.

Michael Hastings sat on the seat, gaze glued to his grandson.

"It is!" Andrew sneered, bumping his nose to Chad's as he got in his face. "It was his fault. You shot my mother at point blank range."

"The gun went off as he tried to disarm her," Michael argued.

"I don't believe it—"

"The fault lies with Vincent Whitehall. It's always been him." Michael said. "He killed Harriet. He tortured my wife—your grandmother—for years and once she was dead, he started on Lucy. He messed with her head and she snapped. We all have a breaking point."

"Chad helped her get to it."

"But it was Vincent that made her act on it. Even now, with what you're doing, Vincent is still a shadow over our family. He's dead, but he still tortures us."

"I don't want Chad to get away with it."

"Do you really think he is?" Michael looked around.

So many people were watching, and Chad knew they wanted Andrew to keep going until he was unconscious. Bruised and bloody.

"He played his part in this," Michael said, pointing a finger at Chad. "And he'll be judged and punished in due course, as will all of us, but I won't have you attacking him in the street. You are better than that."

"I don't think I am," Andrew hissed, tightening his hold.

"You are. Your daughter knows it, your wife, your brother, too, and so did your mother. Let him go, Andrew."

"Grandad—"

"Let him go."

Andrew squeezed Chad's arms until he winced, then released him. He stood back, looking Chad up and down. He opened his mouth, about to deliver some vile line, Chad could feel it, but Michael cut in again.

"Andrew … my flight…"

Andrew nodded, backing away. He eyed Chad as he inched back to his truck.

"You better hope I don't see your face again," Andrew said.

Chad stayed where he was against the wall. Merc stood in front of him, growling louder as Andrew retreated.

Andrew climbed back inside the truck, Michael gave Chad one last long look, one that seemed to keep stretching until he slammed his door shut. Chad watched them drive away, but waited until the audience they'd attracted had thinned before making his way to his car.

Merc clambered into his lap once they were inside. Chad's hands were shaking so much he couldn't get the key in the ignition, so he pressed back into his seat to wait out the adrenaline rush.

I didn't kill Harriet.

Those were the four words that brought about Chad's downfall, and although Vincent couldn't have predicted what would transpire after he'd spoken to each of them, Chad knew whatever part of hell Vincent had been sent to, he'd be there smug despite his eternal damnation.

He'd delivered on his promise.

But still, Chad couldn't help but wonder about Harriet Hastings, and as he took measured breaths while he tried to calm down, all he could think about was Michael's words and the look that had lingered between them.

Why would he be sympathetic towards Chad when he was responsible for his daughter's death?

What did he mean when he said they all had a breaking point?

How was he going to be judged and punished in the end?

Chad had focused his attention on Lucy and her fake whereabouts the night of her sister's disappearance, he'd ignored Michael alone on the farm.

The farm Harriet was walking back to in the dark.

She'd just been with James—the man Michael was trying to keep her away from.

What if she had got back after all?

What if something had happened?

Chad frowned, thinking back to their first meeting.

‘There's no way you've found her.'

How could he have been so sure they hadn't?

"Shit," Chad whispered. He adjusted his rearview mirror to see the road behind, but the truck was long gone. "His flight … he's going back to Italy."

And then it was Lucy's voice he heard in his head, telling Chad about how her dad had struggled to cope at the farm, and in Bardhum and had left for a job abroad only six months after Vincent's confession.

Even when visiting, he'd not wanted to stay on the farm, but had chosen a hotel close to Wiltknot. A knot tightened in Chad's gut, and he tugged his phone from his jeans, about to call the station, then he stopped.

They wouldn't believe him.

He was no longer a detective.

He was Chad, just Chad.

And his and Romeo's justice worked a little differently.