Page 56 of A Castle in the Sky: Fern & Connor
She didn't look at him. "Because I do."
His stomach lurched. For a stupid, irrational second, he thought,She believes her. A woman says rape, and of course she believes her.
"Is this about—" he started.
"It's about keeping our daughter safe," Fern said, still not quite meeting his eye. "Please, Connor. Wait outside. "
He swallowed the protest. A woman crying rape never looked good for the man, even the innocent ones. Especially the innocent ones. He knew that. He also knew Fern was no fool.
"Fine," he said quietly as he made to stand but stopped when Fern caught hold of his hand and squeezed.
He felt Fern's gaze on his back as he left. He wanted to turn, to read her face, to demand she tell him she didn't doubt him. He didn't.
Out by the lifts, Coral chattered about vending machine options with Harlan while he stood with his hand resting on the metal rail, staring at his reflection in the brushed steel doors.
A rapist's face, Matilda would say.
He saw a man who looked like he hadn't slept properly in months. He tried to pay attention as Coral showed him what she wanted while Harlan looked on.
By the time he walked back, Coral clutching a pink packet of crisps, the door to the interview room was open. Fern and Anand were still talking, the tone between them brisk.
"Everything all right?" he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.
Fern picked up her handbag. "Yes," she said. "We're done here for now."
"What was—"
"Later," she said, in a tone that brooked no argument. Then she turned back to Anand. "You'll.. .keep us informed?"
"Of course," Anand said. "And Mrs. Ashebourne? I know this is an awful lot, but you're doing the right thing, however messy it feels right now."
Fern's mouth quirked. "I'll let you know if it still feels 'right' when this is all over."
They went their separate way from the police car park with Harlan and Coral planning a trip to the park. Fern and Connor drove down to mental health services. The corridor narrowed, paint changing to a different shade, doors thicker and fitted with extra locks. At the ward entrance, a nurse buzzed them in after checking IDs and their names against a list. Apparently, Matilda had agreed to see them.
"No bags inside, I'm afraid," she said strictly. "Phones off or left at the desk please."
Fern handed over her handbag without hesitation, watching as it was placed in a locker. Connor hesitated, then surrendered his mobile, too.
Connor followed Fern through another locked door into a smaller room. There were three chairs and a bolted-down table. The air had afaint, sterile tang of cleaning products, overlaid with something else—maybe human despair.
Matilda was already there, sitting on the far side of the table. Her crimson hair was brushed and braided loosely over one shoulder. She wore standard-issue hospital clothes: plain grey joggers and a white button-front top.
Several of those buttons were undone.
She was leaning forward, elbows on the table, legs slightly apart under it. When Connor and Fern walked in, her mouth curled into something that passed a smile. "Connor," she purred. "You came."
Fern slid into the chair beside him, posture composed. Connor sat, deliberately leaving a few inches of space between himself and the table. Her sharp nails drummed on the table.
"Ms. Havers, you have visitors," the nurse who'd escorted them said unnecessarily.
"Thank you, Rupa," Matilda said, voice honeyed and polite.
She closed the door with a soft but definitiveclickbefore sitting in a corner at their request.
For a moment, none of them spoke. Connor could feel Matilda's gaze on him like a hand running over his skin. He looked back, letting her see the revulsion in his eyes.
"Look at him, Fern," she said at last, a lazy sort of satisfaction in her tone. "Sitting there like I am the enemy. You know this is all for show, right? We've been lovers since the day you decided to move here. He just can't get enough of me."
