Yet I couldn’t speak. My mind raced with the worst-case scenarios for why Jill had been arrested and how whatever she’d done had impacted Kelly.
Therefore, when London finally did talk, I physically jolted out of my thoughts.
“I never thought getting beaten up by my boyfriend would happen to me.”
Her words shocked me. Blunt and unexpected and brutal in their honesty.
“I naively assumed that I’d never choose someone capable of that.” Her tone was soft, sorrowful, and her words seeped into my overwrought concern for Kelly. “But I don’t think most men who abuse are pictures of aggression and violence. I think they’re probably more like Nick. Charming and charismatic. And the abuse—at least his was—is insidious. Hard to prove. It started not with a bang, but quietly. He would put me down, pluck out my insecurities and reinforce them. Isolate me from my friends. Try to brainwash me into believing no one loved me but him. And I don’t know how I didn’t truly see it at first. Maybe I did. Maybe I just bought his crap, and that’s on me.”
My chest fucking ached at what she described. When I glanced at her, she wiped tears off her cheeks. My fists clenched around the steering wheel.
“The first time he punched me, I was in shock. And there was no one I could call because he’d made me believe that no one would care.” Her next breath was shaky, and I wished like hell I wasn’t driving so I could touch her, comfort her. I wished like hell that son of a bitch was in front of me so I could wrap my hand around his throat and see how he liked it. “He was so apologetic that I convinced myself it wouldn’t happen again. But it did. Several times. And when it did happen, it was like he had a rage blackout and then was eerily calm again.”
I glanced over to find her watching me, expression regretful and so sad it hurt to witness.
“I wished I could have called my dad and asked him to come get me and that he would have dropped everything to jump in a car to race across the country to make sure I was okay. But I don’t have a dad like Kelly’s dad. I wouldn’t trade who you are or how you care for the people you love for anything, Murray Shaw. And neither would your daughter.”
Emotion thickened my throat so tight I couldn’t speak.
“There are things that will happen to her that you can’t control. It’s scary and awful, but that’s life. What you can control is how you show up for her. Do you hear me, Murray? You are the best father I’ve ever known, and I need you to hear me when I say that.”
I swallowed past the constriction and as we slowed in traffic, I could safely turn to meet her bright gaze. Something overwhelming filled my entire being as I looked at London. “I hear you … Thank you.”
Her smile was soft, kind, relieved as she reached out to pat my knee quickly. “Good. Now let’s go bring Kelly home.”
15.Murray
“Do you want me to wait in the car?” London asked as soon as I parked outside the police station. “For Kelly’s sake? It might be weird for her if I walk in by your side.”
I considered it, but after what London had shared, I wanted to keep her with me. She made me feel like I hadn’t let Kelly down. That I could still make this okay for my daughter. “I’d like you there. Kelly could do with all the support she can get.”
My phone rang as we got out of the car, and I saw it was my mum. I dreaded explaining to her what was going on, but I’d rather I had all the information first, so I decided I’d call her back later.
London hurried to match my stride, and I felt a tickle on my palm and looked down only to see she was reaching for my hand. There was an uncertainty in her expression that tightened into determination before she threaded her fingers through mine.
I squeezed her hand in thanks and led her inside the station.
After I’d explained who I was at Reception, we had to wait a few minutes before a police officer arrived. Every second was torture. Someone might as well have been in the room dragging their nails down a chalkboard for how agitated I was.
“Mr. Shaw, I’m PC Brown. I was one of the officers who attended your ex-wife’s home this morning and I’ve been looking after your daughter Kelly,” the kind female officer around London’s age introduced herself.
“How is she?”
“She’s doing well. Impatient to see you. But I’d like to talk to you in private first.” Her dark gaze flickered to London.
“Uh, this is my … wife.” It still felt so odd to say it. “You can speak in front of her.”
“Of course. Come this way.”
We followed the constable into a private room, London’s hand tight in mine. I fought my impatience as the officer introduced another officer called DC McJennett and asked us to sit at a desk across from them.
“Is it bad?” I asked, my gut knotting. “What you found?”
“Mr. Shaw, this morning at 5:26 a.m., PC Brown and her colleague PC Frost attended a welfare check on your daughter Kelly at your ex-wife Jill Tinsley’s home,” DC McJennett relayed information I already knew. “The scene they found was concerning enough for them to call it in. I and fellow officers attended the call, and we confiscated illegal drug paraphernalia. Some of it has been tested at the station and some of it will be tested off-site. We’ve found enough quantities of cocaine and money that indicate the premises were being used for dealing. That and the fact that we arrestedthisindividual from your ex-wife’s home. Do you know him?” The constable slid a tablet across the table and on it was a photo of the bloke I threatened a few weeks ago.
My pulse picked up pace. “I met him when I dropped Kelly off at her Mum’s. He said his name was Dorian. He’s Jill’s boyfriend.”
“He is Dorian Walsh, the youngest brother of a well-known Liverpudlian criminal, Aaron Walsh. The brothers havespent the past few years branching out into Scotland. Finding vulnerable people whose homes they can take over and use to deal drugs out of.”
