Free Death Sentence by Sheryl Browne Page B

him to take her sodding shoes to bed with him and be done with. What had he been up to anyway? Clearly something if the law had come sniffing around.
    ‘ You’re my problem. What did you have to go and do that for?’ Patrick shot her a moody glance then dropped his gaze back to his overcoat, brushing at his lapels as if they were crawling with fleas.
    ‘Do what?’ Chelsea was truly astonished, and damned if she knew what she was supposed to have done now.
    Patrick looked angrily back up. ‘You’ve got chlorine all over the coat, you silly tart.’
    ‘Don’t be so stupid, Pat. There ain’t nothing there but a bit of water. Honestly, you’re dead neurotic, you are sometimes.’ Chelsea rolled her eyes and padded back towards him, dabbing at the lapel herself as she inspected it at close quarters. Very close quarters. She couldn’t see a thing without her glasses.
    Which is possibly why she didn’t see Patrick’s expression darken to pure thunder. ‘What did you call me?’ he fumed, catching hold of her wrist.
    Chelsea snatched her gaze from his coat to his face, ‘Nothing.’ Her eyes grew wide as they searched his. ‘I only said you—’
    ‘Shut your mouth!’ Patrick cupped her face with his free hand, his fingers digging deep into her cheeks. ‘Do not ever call me stupid, understand? Ever! Got it?’
    ‘Yes! I wasn’t. I won’t!’ Chelsea panicked, as he shoved his face up close to hers. Now she could see: the blue-grey vein jutting in his temple, the terrifying look in his eyes. ‘Patrick,’ she whimpered, ‘you’re hurting me.’
    ‘Silly bloody tart, walking around like a trollop,’ Patrick ranted furiously on, a bubble of spit forming at the corner of his mouth, ‘in front of Adams, for fuck’s sake. What? Fancy him, do you? Reckon the copper could give you good seeing to, is that it?’
    ‘No!’ Desperate to get away from him and whatever foul mood he was in, Chelsea tried to prise his fingers away.
    ‘Patrick, stop it! You’re scaring me.’
    But Patrick only increased the pressure. ‘If I ever see you simpering over him again, I’ll do more than scare you, Chelsea. I’ll cut your brainless little head off. Got it?’
    Chelsea swallowed, attempting a nod.
    ‘I didn’t hear you!’ Patrick bellowed.
    ‘Yes!’ Chelsea screamed, and felt a warm trickle on the inside of her leg as her bladder gave way.
    ‘Trollops, the lot of you. Go and cover yourself up!’ Patrick muttered, disgusted, and shoved her away, hard.
    Chelsea’s first thought, as her legs slipped from under her, was that she was flailing backwards towards the deep end. Her second thought, around her lack of skills in the water, was cut blindingly short, as her head smacked violently against the tiles.

Chapter Six
    Approaching his house, Matthew immediately noticed there were no lights at the windows. Knowing Rebecca should be home and trying to quash the paranoia that had been his constant companion since the accident, he stepped on the accelerator, bumped the car over the building site that passed for a drive, and screeched to an abrupt halt.
    Apprehension overriding any police training to err on the side of caution, he threw himself out of the car, rammed his key into the lock, and thrust the front door wide.
    ‘Becky!’
    ‘Here,’ Rebecca said from the sofa, which backed towards the door, sounding perfectly relaxed.
    Thank Christ. His heartbeat returning to somewhere near normal Matthew started breathing again.
    ‘What’s up, guys?’ Closing the front door and trying to sound casual, he walked around the sofa, to find the two ladies now in his life each end of it, feet tucked up, a popcorn bowl between them, and the TV paused.
    ‘Film night,’ Rebecca reminded him, around a mouthful of popcorn. ‘We started without you.’
    ‘Ah, right.’ Mathew winced inwardly, realising he’d forgotten. ‘Sorry.’ He ran a hand wearily over his neck. ‘I—’
    ‘Got detained?’ Rebecca gave him a despairing