Deep Hurt - Eva Hudson Page 0,101

momentum she’d gained to spin around and wrap both her arms across his body, pinning his arms to his sides.

He struggled against her.

Now she shoved him against the wall. She knew she wouldn’t be able to hold him there for long. He was bigger than her, stronger.

“Kyle—listen to me. Tommy will be safe. We can work together on this.”

“Why should I believe you?” He struggled against her grasp.

A strange, high-pitched gulping sound came from behind her. Then a bright light threw her shadow onto the wall. She couldn’t turn to see what was there without loosening her grip on Foster. She heard the noise again. More of a sob this time. Then a scream.

Then something barreled into her at speed. The beam of light bounced around the room for a few moments then went out. Weak punches hit at her lower back, followed by kicks to her calves.

“Daddy’s right! Stop telling lies!”

“Tom-my!” Her voice cracked between syllables.

“Stop lying.” Even though the boy’s punches and kicks weren’t doing any real damage, they were making it much harder for her to contain Foster.

“Mommy didn’t hurt Molly. You’re telling lies. Stop it!” The punches came faster and harder for a few moments then eased and gradually stopped. The boy had exhausted himself. He slumped onto the ground. “It’s naughty to lie. Mommy didn’t hurt Molly.” He started to cry.

“It’s OK, Tommy,” Foster said. “Everything’s OK. I’m sure Mommy didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“Listen to your dad.”

Tommy punched her weakly behind her knee. “Let Daddy go!”

Foster wasn’t offering any resistance. Ingrid was tempted to release him. “What I said before, it was true. Carrie told the police it was an accident.”

“That’s true. It was an accident,” Tommy said, then sobbed again. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.” He slid past Ingrid’s feet and wrapped himself around his father’s legs. “I just wanted to stop her screaming. She was making Mommy cry. She makes Mommy cry all the time. I didn’t mean…” His voice was swallowed up by the sobs erupting from his throat, coming faster and louder with each snagging breath he took.

“What?” With his right arm Foster pulled against Ingrid and tried to reach down to his son. “What did you just say?”

Ingrid tightened her grip.

“For God’s sake, let me hold my son.” Foster strained against her.

“Where’s Yvonne?” Ingrid asked.

“She’s supposed to be with Tommy.”

“I ran away from her,” the boy said.

Ingrid let go of Foster and stepped away, out of his reach. Foster dropped to the ground and gathered Tommy into his arms.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Shhh… there’s nothing for you to be sorry about.”

“But there is. Molly was on the bed, screaming. Like she always does. I could hear Mommy in the bathroom, crying. I told Molly to be quiet. But she wouldn’t. So I grabbed her and shook her a little. But she screamed louder. So I shook her some more… I think maybe she hit her head on the back of the bed. I just wanted to…” His voice trailed away.

“It’s OK. It’s all right, Tommy,” Kyle said in a soothing voice.

“That’s when Mommy hit me. I let go of Molly then and I hit Mommy back. I punched her in the leg. She shouldn’t have hit me. I was just trying to help. I didn’t want to hurt anybody.”

For the next few moments the only sound that echoed around the room was Tommy’s violent sobbing.

“He’s lying,” Foster said eventually. “Trying to help his mom. He wouldn’t hurt his baby sister. He’s a good boy.” Clearly Foster couldn’t believe what his son had just admitted. His voice was shaky, uncertain.

Even in the dark, just from the sound of their breathing, Ingrid could tell Foster was squeezing the boy tighter to him.

“I didn’t mean to hurt her so bad. It was an accident.”

“Shhh, you don’t know what you’re saying. Be quiet.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“It was Carrie,” Foster insisted. “It had to be. Molly was just lying so still in Carrie’s arms when I got back to the room. But she can get help, right? She’s been depressed. That will be taken into account, won’t it? Temporary insanity. The stress… the depression she’s been suffering from…”

“I’m sorry,” Tommy said again between sobs.

“Shhh… I’m not going to lose him,” he told Ingrid. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

Ingrid knelt down next to them. “You won’t lose him,” she said firmly. “That won’t happen. Tommy’s only eight years old.”

“So? He’s old enough to be prosecuted. I can’t have him go through that.”

“He doesn’t have to. He’s