Steve listened as Yvette explained pretty much exactly what Steve had guessed about Luce’s actions. “The only thing I didn’t know was how he knew they were fake, but he explained to me about his Talent while we were hiding and I was trying to keep him awake. It’s all very simple when you know about that. And if he hadn’t been clever with his phone, you’d have never have found us, would you?”

  “It certainly helped.”

  She fixed Waterson with a steely glare. “It got him beaten to a pulp, so I hope you’re grateful, young man.”

  Waterson had the grace to look a little ashamed of himself. “Ma’am, did you have any suspicion at all that Luce might have been working with the kidnappers?”

  “Are you stupid, sergeant? I just told you, they beat him up and tried to kill him through hypothermia. That man, Peters, was furious with him. I thought he was going to murder Luce on the spot. No, your kidnappers have gone. Are you looking for them? I gave one of your officers a very good description.”

  “Yes, ma’am, you did. And yes, we’re looking for them.”

  “Are you done with me?”

  “I think so, for now.”

  “Then let me speak to Steve on his own.” She glared until Waterson slunk away out of the room, then she held out her hand to Steve, which he took. “You look absolutely dreadful,” she said.

  “I was worried sick about the pair of you. Then Waterson got it into his head that Luce pretended to be your grandson because he was in on it and I didn’t know how I’d convince him otherwise.”

  “What a silly idea. Didn’t they find the sketches he did?”

  “I think so. But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t in on it, other than the fact you and I and anyone who knows Luce would realise that was idiotic.”

  “It is. Are you staying up here tonight?”

  “I’m staying until he’s awake.”

  She patted his hand. “Then you can come back with me tomorrow. He’ll be here a couple of days at least, I imagine. You’ll want to go home and change and collect your own car.”

  “I don’t want to be any trouble, Yvette.”

  “Now don’t you start being stupid too, Steve. Give me a kiss and then go find somewhere to wait for him to wake up. I won’t leave without you in the morning.”

  He kissed her cheek. “Thank you.”

  “Nothing to thank me for. I owe Luce my life, I’m sure of it. Off you go.”

  Waterson was hanging around outside. “Mr Sherwood won’t be fit for interviewing until tomorrow,” he told Steve, “so I’m going to grab some kip at my mate’s house until then.”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  “Up to you. If you talk to him about this, bear in mind we want untainted testimony.”

  “I remember how it works, Paul.”

  “Then see you tomorrow.”

  When Steve asked a nurse where he could wait for Luce, she checked and found he’d been transferred to a ward. “They don’t normally allow visitors at this time of the night, but if you go up there, you might be able to have a word with him if he’s awake.”

  It was already midnight. The nurse on duty was sympathetic to Steve’s request, and she said he could sit by Luce’s bed as long as he wanted.

  The two person ward was also under guard, but Steve explained to the officer outside he was Luce’s partner and DS Waterson could vouch for him. After a quick check via radio, Steve was allowed in.

  Luce was the only patient in the room, attached to heart, blood pressure, and oxygen saturation monitors, and with oxygen being delivered through nasal canullae. His pale skin was almost translucent, and the lines around his eyes spoke of pain and weariness. Steve made no noise as he sat down, but Luce’s eyes fluttered open. “Steve,” he whispered.

  Steve took his hand. “I’m here, love.”

  “You came.”

  “Of course. You left breadcrumbs for us to follow. How do you feel?”

  “Like shit. Yvette?”

  “Is absolutely fine and worried about you.”

  Luce’s eyes closed. “Tired.”

  “You get some rest.”

  “Love you.”

  Steve kissed his hand. “Love you too. With all my heart.”

  Luce smiled, and his fingers tightened around Steve’s. “Don’t go.”

  “Staying right here. Go to sleep, love.”

  Chapter 9

  He woke to the feel of fingers in his hair. He lifted his head, and found Luce looking at him. “Sleepy head,” Luce murmured.

  “God, what time is it?” Six am, his watch said. “How are you?”

  “Alive. I’m glad you stayed.”

  Steve sat up and stretched, then reached for Luce’s hand. “You frightened the living daylights out of me.”

  “I couldn’t let Yvette face that on her own.”

  “No. The police need to ask you some questions.”

  “Yes, thought they would.” Luce winced. “I think someone stuck their hand in my guts and had a good old rummage around.”

  “I guess you’ll be here a few days. I’ll tell Angela and Chun what’s happening. I already spoke to Angela last night.”

  “Thanks. Did you mean it?”

  “What?”

  “What you said last night?”

  “About loving you? Yes.”

  Luce gave him a tired smile. “Oh good. Then we’re on the same page.”

  Steve stood so he could give him a kiss. “Need to use the loo.”

  “Could you find me some paper and a pencil? I need to make pictures of those two thugs.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Steve spoke to the officer outside the room. “He’s awake, and could probably answer questions if you want him too. He’s also a brilliant artist and he can draw the two suspects. Could you arrange some proper paper and pencils from your sketch artist?”

  “Dunno, but we can always send someone to W H Smith if we have to.”

  Steve left it with her to sort out, and went in search of a toilet and somewhere to get a cup of coffee. He checked his phone—messages from Angela and Maria. Maria’s was just a ‘thank god he’s safe’ text. Angela wanted more specific information, so he messaged her back and said he’d call her later when he knew more about Luce’s likely stay in hospital.

  He had a little walk around to stretch his legs, and by the time he came back to Luce’s room, his lover had a pad and pencil in his hands. “The nurse found them,” Luce explained, busily working. “Probably for kids.”

  “Perfect for you then.”

  Luce stuck his tongue out, but kept drawing.

  Steve went outside and spoke to the officer again. “You better contact DS Waterson. He’s making the sketches, and the sergeant will really need to see these.”

  She frowned, but spoke to her own sergeant by radio. Steve left her to it.

  As he had done earlier in the year, Luce produced incredibly realistic portraits in an incredibly short time, and on a separate page had written descriptions of the men, their car, and even its registration number. “You’re amazing, you know that,” Steve said.

  Luce set the pad aside. “Amazingly tired.”

  “You don’t need to do anything.”

  “Only talk to the police again. Ugh.”

  “I’ll be here.” Though if Waterson treated Luce like a suspect, Steve might have to get up in his face about it.

  Twenty minutes later, Waterson came in with a plain clothes officer and a PC behind him. “Good morning, Mr Sherwood. I understand you have some pictures to show me.”

  Steve passed them over to him. Waterson stared at them incredulously, and read the information Luce had listed. “Bloody hell. Are you sure about this? You didn’t use artistic license?”

  Luce gave him a dirty look. “Check with Lady Wensdale,” Steve suggested. “But from our experience with his sketches, they’ll be spot on.”

  Waterson turned to the uniformed officer. “Find out if Lady Wensdale is awake, but send those off anyway. Don’t lose them, for God’s sake.”

  Steve gave up his chair so Waterson could sit, but stayed on the other side of the bed, his hand on Luce’s shoulder. He’s under my protection, he hoped his expression told everyone in the room.

  Waterson asked Luce about the sequence of events, but focused particularly on how Luce had known the men weren’t really police. Luce made a disgusted noise. “That gentleman there,” he said, pointing to the plain clothes officer Waterson hadn’t introduced, “drove you over here in a blue Vauxhall Astra. He ate a Mars bar while driving, and threw the wrapper out the window, which was naughty of him. You stayed at his house last night. He has two little boys and his wife has blonde hair.”

  The plains clothes officer went red in the face, and Waterson grinned. “Have to give you a ticket for littering, Mark. All right. Are you in financial difficulty, Mr Sherwood?”

  “No. I make decent money. The fire at the shop was a slight setback, but I’m insured. If you think I would hurt Yvette or anyone for money, you’re out of your fucking mind.”

  Steve gave Waterson a look to say, ‘Satisfied?’. Waterson nodded. “Understood,” he said to Luce. “We might have to talk to you again, just to see if there’s any other information you can give us. There’s an officer outside for your own protection as these guys are still on the loose, so if you remember anything, please let them know.”

  “Do we know what was so special about nine o’clock this morning?” Luce asked.

  Steve and Waterson exchanged looks. “No. But we’ll find out. Thank you, Mr Sherwood. Get some rest.”

  Steve waited until they were gone before kissing Luce on the forehead. “You’re still amazing.”

  “Yes, I am. They think I did this?”

  “He was suspicious, yeah. But I think he’s beginning to come around to the idea that you couldn’t possibly be a kidnapper.”

  Luce huffed. “Idiots.”

  “That’s what Yvette said.”

  Luce laughed a little, then held his side. “Bugger, that hurts. Go home, Steve. I’ll be here for a while, I think.”

  “Yvette’s giving me a lift home, so I can stay for a couple of hours. Then I’ll pick up my car and come back.”

  “Get some sleep before you do.”

  “We’ll see.” Steve kissed him again, this time on the lips. “Proud of you, love.”

  “Always want to be. Have you told Hannah?”

  “Not sure I want to worry her.”

  “She might see it in the papers.”

  “Not until they catch these bastards. It’s all been kept hush hush.”

  Luce frowned as if that hadn’t occurred to him. “Right. Someone else will try now, won’t they? She’ll need security.”

  “I’m sure Sir Andrew has that all in hand. I’m a bit surprised they didn’t have someone at the house already.”

  “They’ve lived there for over fifty years. They feel safe there. Not any more, though. Poor Yvette.”

  Steve patted his hand. “You worry about poor Luce for now, okay? She’ll be fine. And she wants to see you before she goes, I think.”

  “That’d be nice. I want to see her too.”

  “Give it an hour and I’ll pop over to her room and find out if she’s ready to visit.”

  They didn’t have to wait that long. While Luce was sort of eating his breakfast—which meant he was picking at it and Steve was stealing his toast—Yvette came in on the arm of a young police constable. “Luce, my dear, you’re alive.”

  Steve hastily gave up his chair and asked her to sit. She touched his shoulder and smiled, then took the chair. She reached for Luce’s hand. “I was worried about you.”

  “Me too. I mean, worried about you.”

  “How is it? Are you in pain?”

  “A bit. I’ll be all right. Are you going home?”

  “Andrew’s driver has been here for an hour, but I wasn’t going to leave without making sure you were all right.” She squeezed Luce’s hand. “I will never forget what you did for me, Luce. I’ll make sure Andrew doesn’t either.”

  “I didn’t do anything except get myself beaten up.”

  She shook her head and gave Steve a look. “Isn’t he silly? Now, Luce, I’m taking Steve away, and I’m going to ask Andrew to arrange for you to be moved to the Royal Free, if we can. Do you agree?”

  “That would be lovely, Yvette, but don’t go to any trouble.”

  “No trouble for me,” she said sweetly. “Andrew has hundreds of people working for him. I’m sure one of them can arrange things. And if you need any help when you come home, we’re paying for it. Don’t argue.”

  Luce grinned. “No, Yvette. Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Good. Say goodbye, Steve, so I can get you home for a rest.”

  “Yes, Yvette,” Steve said, smiling as he imitated Luce’s meek tone. He stood and kissed Luce. “See you soon.”

  “Call Angela?”

  “Of course.”

  Sir Andrew’s limo was a lot more comfortable than DS Waterson’s seconded police vehicle, so after Steve gave Yvette his phone so she could call her husband, he was ashamed to find that he’d slept nearly the entire way back to his house. She nudged him awake when they arrived. “Here’s your phone, dear. Thank you. It’s all arranged. Luce will be transferred this morning after the doctors see him, and you can visit him at Hampstead instead of driving all that way back.”

  “You’re a miracle worker. Thank you.”

  “Not at all. So someone will call you and let you know what’s happening, and Angela will make sure he has his own things.”

  “You called her? God, I forgot.”

  She patted his arm. “Quite all right. Now go and shower and have a nap. You look awful.”

  “You, as ever, look beautiful.”

  “Liar. Goodbye for now.”

  The house was quiet—Hannah had already left for her classes. Steve stripped off and went straight to bed. He could shower later.

  ~~~~~~~~

  With Luce well cared for, and the promise of home assistance, Steve could have gone back to work. Maria suggested he didn’t, or at least stuck to day shifts. “If your wife was in hospital, you wouldn’t want to be working day and night,” she said.

  “He doesn’t need me around all the time.”

  “I’m not worried about him, Steve. I’m also working out how to handle possible fall out from this. Luce’s name will be bandied about again once this case is broken and the press finds out about his friendship with Lady Wensdale, and if you ‘re publicly connected to either, that could be difficult for us.”

  “Why would anyone give a damn about that?”

  “Because Sir Andrews set the fox among the chickens with his recent announcement, and some of our clients had their noses put out of joint. We need to be aware of possible sensitivities.”

  Steve nearly told her, ‘sensitivities be buggered’, but he liked his job and didn’t want to be fired. “Day duties then?”

  “Yes. For a fortnight. You’ve more than earned it.”

  So for the next week Steve did lunch chauffeuring and a couple of airport pickups during the days while Luce was in hospital, and in the evenings, Steve sat with him in his private room. Luce had others visitors—friends Steve hadn’t met before, Angela, Chun and her boyfriend, and most memorably, Sir Andrew himself with Yvette, the afternoon before Luce was due to be released. Steve had wanted to clear out but Sir Andrew, Lancashire accent still broad fifty years after he’d left the place, demanded that Steve stay.

  He planted his feet apart, metaphorically put his thumbs behind his braces, and looked like he was getting ready for a good old-fashioned bellow. “I’ve got words to say to you, Mr McCallum.”

  Steve jutted out his chin. “Oh yes?”

  “Yes. You and Sherwood here have been squiring my wife around behind my back, plotting.”

  “No plots,” Steve said. Luce listened, as did Yvette, but didn’t intervene. “Nothing was done to deceive you, except to surprise you with a gift.”

  “You took her to a homeless shelter, made her mix with those kinds of people.”

  “The people the Tories have put on the streets, you mean?”

  Yvette patted her husband’s arm, but Sir Andrew powered on. “My wife managed to convince me that harm had been done that way, yes.”

  Steve blinked. “Oh...right.”

  “But then your lover pretends to be my bloody grandson and my wife gets kidnapped!” Sir Andrew still paid no attention to Luce, and strangely Luce didn’t look at all put out by the implication.

  “The two things aren’t connected.”

  “They are, because if your boy there hadn’t learned a trick or two from you, my wife would be dead now. So what do you say to that, Mr McCallum?”

  Steve grinned. “You’re welcome, Sir Andrew?”

  The big man laughed. “Got you nicely, didn’t we, Yvette. Now, we want to thank you both properly. Mr Sherwood, what do you want from me?”

  “Nothing, Sir Andrew. I have all I want.”

  “And you, McCallum?”

  “The same.”

  Sir Andrew harrumphed. “That won’t do, will it, Yvette?”

  “Not at all, Andrew.”

  The two of them were up to something. Luce shrugged, making a little ‘what can I say?’ gesture with his hands. Steve waited for the other shoe to drop.

  “Luce,” Yvette said, “we’ve spoken to the people running Teenhaven and we want to set up and fund another night shelter, with a ten-year trust supporting it, and another ten-year trust to help fund their overall work.”

  Sir Andrew added, “But we’re not going to make a splash about it just yet, young man. Because when we catch those bastards, and we will, certain members of the press are going to have a fine old time dragging your name in the muck because of your gallivanting around with my missus. That’s when Teenhaven will make a press release about our donation and make them look like bloody fools.”