Page 161 of This Woman Forever

I blow out my cheeks. “Okay.” He’s right. This needs urgent attention. “Text me the officer’s number. I’ll call him now.” I hang up, and my phone soon bleeps the arrival of a message. I hit the number, taking my phone to my ear.

“PC Gladstone.”

“Yeah, Hi, my name’s Jesse Ward. My wife was involved in the collision today near Tower Bridge.”

“Mr. Ward, thanks for calling me.”

“No problem.” I lower to a stool and take a deep breath, fighting with my instinct to hold back information. I’ve dealt with the police before. I haven’t much faith they can work at a pace I’ll be comfortable with. Like really fucking fast. But I might know a man who will.

“Can I speak to your wife?”

“She’s sleeping.”

“Of course. Is she okay? Any injuries?”

“No, just shook up, as you can imagine. She’s pregnant with twins. I’m sorry I was so short with you on the scene.”

He breathes out. “Understandable. Would you get her to call me when she’s feeling up to it?” He’s not applying pressure, but I sense it. To John’s point, there were several vehicles involved and a runaway Aston. I should mention the Aston. It’ll look strange if one of the other witnesses mentions it and I don’t.

“There was an Aston at the scene.”

I hear the rustling of papers. PC Gladstone turning the pages of his notebook. “Yes, a black DBS.”

“It’s mine. It was stolen earlier today from my property outside of the city.”

I hear his shock, even if he doesn’t make a sound. No, PC Gladstone, this isn’t a simple case of reckless driving. “Are you saying this is a personal vendetta?” he asks.

“I think so.”

“Anyone spring to mind?”

I suppress my laugh. Where would I start? “No,” I say quietly. “I called Aston Martin to get information on the location—it has a tracker—but they couldn’t help me. Then I got a call from Ava asking me why I was following her. Obviously, my alarm bells went wild.”

“Obviously,” he parrots. “And you don’t know of anyone who would want to hurt your wife?”

“No.”

“Okay, well, we should definitely take a statement from you too. When’s convenient?”

“I’ll call you,” I say.

“Thank you. And thanks for calling me. I’ll wait to hear from you.”

I hang up and lay my phone on the counter, mulling over too many things in my mind. But the loudest question?

Who?

26

I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow—I’m putting that down to mental exhaustion—and I don’t come round until morning. But I don’t open my eyes, too content with the feel of my hand on Ava’s tummy and the feel of her light fingertips tracing every inch of my body. Inevitably, she works her way down to my scar and lingers. Thinking, I suppose. Reflecting on what she’s learned.

“Have you finished feeling me up?” I ask, the old wound tingling.

“No,” she whispers. “Just be still and silent.”

“Anything you say, lady.” I sigh and sink deeper into the sheets, happy to oblige and feed her monster.

Her breath tickles my lips. “Good boy.”