Page 11 of The Devil’s Lair

Heart heavy, I trudge back into the living room. Felicity opens her mouth. I raise a hand to stop her. “Let me get Isla settled in her bedroom first.”

I’ve never talked back to my mother-in-law, and the way her eyes flash and her thin lips virtually disappear let me know she isn’t happy about it. She gives a curt nod. There’s going to be a row. I can feel it simmering like a pot on the stove. Felicity is an expert in turning up the heat, and I’m ready to feel the burn. There’s no avoiding it, so I might as well get it over with. After she’s said her piece and left the house, I can finally break down. Until then, I need to find strength from somewhere and survive the next few minutes.

Once I have Isla settled and watching TV with her headphones on, I make my way back downstairs. I choose the chair farthest away from my in-laws. It’s a safety barrier; a strategy I used to deploy with Marcus. Whenever I feel threatened, I use what little space I have to put up boundaries.

“What have they charged you with?”

I look down, avoiding Felicity’s gaze. “Possession of a prohibited weapon.”

“Hmm. An expected custodial sentence, then?”

My lungs compress. Surely not? It’s my first offense. My last offense. That must mean something, that they’ll go easy on me. God, could she be right? I hadn’t even considered prison.

I can’t go to prison. I can’t leave Isla. What am I going to do?

Panic crawls into my throat. I should have asked for that solicitor at the police station. That officer—Blakeley, was it?—basically told me I should have legal representation, yet I ignored his advice. I’m so stupid. I’ll have to get one now I’ve been charged and bailed. But with what? Marcus never gave me any money.

When I don’t respond to her question, Felicity turns to her husband. “What do you think, Preston?”

My father-in-law is marginally more pleasant than Felicity, but it’s a close-run thing. As a member of parliament for the Conservative party, he’s got this air of superiority and entitlement that runs through the Eton set.

“Illegal possession of a gun in this country is taken extremely seriously. I imagine the law will take a dim view.”

“It was Marcus’s gun,” I boldly state, quivering at the sudden bout of bravery.

“Don’t come at me with attitude and lies, young lady,” Felicity practically spits. “Preston spoke to the police captain. We know you took the gun to the club. It’s your fault Marcus is dead.”

“He tried to kill me.” Nausea bubbles up in my stomach. Throwing up on Felicity’s designer shoes would make her apoplectic. There’s a part of me that doesn’t care.

“So you say. My son put up with all of your shenanigans, and it got him killed. You trapped him, you made his life a misery, and now we have to bury him.” She makes this little sound, like a whimper, and dabs at her eyes. I’m certain the only tears this woman has ever shed are of the crocodile variety. I’m not even sure she’s capable of love. Not the kind of love I have for Isla.

“There, there, dear.” Preston pats his wife’s hand, and when he looks at me, his face is as devoid of emotion as hers. “As your crime is likely to receive a custodial sentence, and without a strong father figure in Isla’s life, we think it’ll be better if she comes to live with us.”

It takes about three seconds for his words to sink in, and even giving myself the grace of time, I’m sure I’ve misheard. “Excuse me?”

“Rebecca, think about this sensibly,” Felicity says. ”If you receive a custodial sentence, social services will take Isla into care. Is that what you want? If we assume custody of her now, before that happens, we can protect her.”

I launch to my feet, shaking. “You are not taking my daughter. She belongs with me. Her mother.”

“A criminal.” Felicity crosses her arms. “I know this is difficult, but please, think of Isla. We can have the paperwork drawn up in no time.”

“I might get a suspended sentence.” My spine straightens, even though my voice quivers.

“You won’t,” Preston states, and something about the way he does sends an icy shiver down my spine. It’s like he already knows. Like he’s had a word in the right ear and sealed my fate.

“That’s settled then,” Felicity says. “We’ll start the process on Monday.”

“Absolutely not.” My legs are trembling so badly, I’m surprised I can stand upright. “I will not let you take Isla. I’ll fight you every step of the way.”

She heaves a sigh. “With what? You have nothing. This house is in Marcus’s name. You have no job, no resources of your own.”

“I’m his wife. His assets will pass to me.”

“Not when you’re found guilty of possessing the gun that led to his death. Besides, probate takes months, and by then you’ll be in prison.” Gathering her handbag, she slides it over her arm. “This is for the best. Given time, you’ll see that.”

She and Preston sweep from the room.

The front door slams, and my legs give way. I slide down the wall, my entire body trembling. Hugging my knees to my chest, I bury my face in my arms and, finally, I cry.