Page 1 of Heart Cradle
Chapter One - London
In an office that smelled of stress and stale coffee cups, Maeve sat stiffly in the worn leather chair opposite Chief Inspector Rhodes. Her hands were clenched in her lap. Her breath was tight in her chest and he wasn’t looking at her.
“Maeve…” He paused, eyes still fixed on her file. “You’ve done everything we’ve asked of you. More than we could ever have expected.”
“Don’t do this, please,” she said, quietly pleading. “I’m fine.”
He finally met her eyes. “You’re not.”
A beat of silence stretched between them.
“You were tortured, Maeve,” he said gently, as if she needed reminding. “In your own home. You survived, yes…but you’re not fine.”
Maeve blinked, twice. “I’ve passed every review.”
Rhodes sighed. “You passed them by sheer willpower alone, Maeve. We can’t ignore the signs. Your team is worried, I’m worried. You’re not ready. You need to rest and heal, just take some time for yourself.”
She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth to still the tremble in her jaw, she didn’t trust herself to speak.
“This is not a punishment.” His voice softened further. “We’re placing you on six months paid leave. Consider it time to recover, then come back ready to work.”
Her stomach dropped.
Without her job, who was she?
Maeve stood in a daze, shook Rhodes’ hand, and thanked him. She walked through the corridors of New Scotland Yard like a spectre, numb and cold inside, barely registering the sympathetic glances of those she passed. She didn’t even remember getting home. She only knew she was suddenly there, standing in the middle of her flat, breath ragged, keys clutched so tightly her knuckles had gone white. She checked every window. She made sure the front door was locked three times and then she staggered into the bathroom and collapsed onto the cold tile floor, and wept until herthroat burned. She didn’t know how long she lay there, shrieking and howling at the injustice of it. Her attackers were free, and she was not.
She ran a hot bath and burned herself as she slid beneath the water, her knees curled to her chest. The ceiling blurred above and her thoughts circled in slow, heavy spirals.
What now?
No siblings, parents gone, no family left. Her friends were acquaintances, colleagues, really. Her life had been her job. She was a detective, she followed protocol, she caught thieves, she was always too busy, too driven.
Now she was on pause, forced to stay away.
Discarded.
The silence pressed in. The walls felt too close as her chest constricted, she couldn’t breathe. The air seemed thicker, wrong, nauseating.
What if this was it, what if she never got back?
What if she was broken forever?
Her breath caught. Her heart kicked against her ribs like it was trying to escape. Her fingers trembled, skin feeling too tight. Her throat began to close, thick and heavy, as if filling with cement. She tried to sit up, but her limbs wouldn’t listen.
Panic crashed in, wild and electric and her thoughts blurred, flew and screamed.
It’s over.
They’ve taken everything.
You’ll never be okay.
You’re just fucking weak.
You’re nothing without your job.
Her eyes stung, her chest ached. The weight of the world settled on her bones as she sank lower, letting the water rise to her chin, over her nose and she closed her eyes. Then, beneath the chaos, a different thought, quieter and entirely terrifying.
