Cuthbert's Way (DCI Ryan Mysteries, #17)(6)
She loved her.
How often could that be said, of modern families?
“Thank you,” Anna replied, with feeling. “I don’t know why I overreacted the way I did, just now. When I woke up, I just had this sudden, awful feeling that someone had taken the baby. It felt so real…I should have known it would have been her daddy, of course.”
“We’re programmed to know where our babies are at all times,” Eve soothed. “You were acting on auto-pilot, and you were probably still half-asleep. Besides, after everything that’s happened—”
She cut herself off, thinking it may be unwise to bring up a subject best avoided.
“You’re thinking of what happened at the cathedral?”
Eve could have kicked herself. The previous March, Anna had been an unfortunate bystander during a large-scale heist on Durham Cathedral, during which a priceless artefact had been stolen. Much worse, Anna had suffered serious head trauma and extensive injuries in the process, which had threatened her life and that of her unborn child. She’d come through the worst, but her hair had only recently grown back to cover the scar on her head and, instead of her usual long style, Anna now wore a fashionable crop which happened to suit her very much. But then, when you had a face like hers, you could wear your hair however you liked, Eve thought tenderly.
“I shouldn’t have mentioned it,” she said, and moved off in search of sugar and pastry. “It does no good to relive it all.”
“I don’t often think of it,” Anna admitted. “Or, at least, I don’t think about the explosion. I think about the reasons why it happened.”
Eve didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Even after all this time, Ryan still thinks there’s a danger—?”
Anna nodded. “He doesn’t talk about it too often because I think he’s trying not to worry me, but by not talking about it…”
“He’s worrying you?” Eve finished, with a crooked smile.
“Exactly,” Anna murmured. “Ryan knows the cross they recovered was a fake, but he doesn’t know why anybody would orchestrate such an elaborate, high profile theft, if it wasn’t the real thing they planned to steal.”
“It could be that the thieves didn’t know it was a fake,” Eve suggested, but Anna shook her head.
“Ryan’s considered that, but he’s fairly certain DCI Tebbutt was murdered and that forger—Faber, I think he was called—was tortured because they knew the cross was a replica…” Anna shivered. “Faber died before the heist, which means that whoever planned the robbery already knew they’d be stealing a forged copy. What we don’t know is why. There’s something much bigger happening, here, Eve—maybe a new organised crime group operating in the area, one that’s well financed, with connections in high places.”
Eve said nothing, thinking of the private conversation she’d had with Ryan months ago, while Anna was still recovering in the hospital. His message to his parents had been stark: if person, or persons, unknown had seen fit to commission the assassination of a prominent chief inspector for no reason other than the fact she’d found out about the cross being a fake, there was every reason to think they’d do the same again, if word should ever get out that Ryan was in possession of the same information.
That meant he was in serious danger, and so was his family.
Yet, what could he do?
If Ryan pressured Anna to leave with the baby and stay with his family at their home in Devon, the action would look suspicious to anybody watching their movements, placing them all in greater danger than before. Besides, if the person or group responsible for the Durham heist had money and connections, it made little difference whether the object of their wrath was in Northumberland or in Devon.
So long as the world believed Ryan was conducting a regular investigation into the death of his former colleague, they maintained a status quo. But it was not a long-term solution, and they could not live with the Sword of Damocles hanging above their heads, so he’d asked his parents to stay for as long as they could—to help with the new baby, and provide him with some reassurance that there would be people he trusted to watch over that which was most precious to him in the world, while he went about the business of quiet investigation to uncover the threat which now lay dormant but could erupt at any time.
Eve worried for her son, thinking of how much responsibility he bore in his private and professional life, but mustered a smile and set a warm croissant in front of her daughter-in-law.
“I’m sure Ryan will get to the bottom of it,” she said, lightly. “In the meantime, you need to take care of yourself.”
Anna raised the pastry half-heartedly to her lips, but her hand paused mid-air when there came the unmistakable sound of a baby’s cry, followed by the much deeper rumble of Ryan’s voice as he chattered to Emma on his way through to the kitchen.
“…and, Old Macdonald had a duck, ee-aye, ee-aye, oh…”
He appeared with the baby in one arm, his bright, silvery-blue eyes still misty with sleep as he gave a wide, jaw-cracking yawn. Spotting his wife, Ryan broke into a smile.
“Good morning,” he said, and leaned down to brush his lips against hers. “I was hoping you might have managed another hour’s sleep but, since you’re awake, Madam here is ready for some milk…is everything all right?”