‘Nathan,’ she whispered, laying her hand on his arm.
His eyes flicked open. ‘Keri.’ One word but filled with relief, his eyelids closing again.
‘We’ve given him something for the pain,’ the paramedic said. ‘It’s made him sleepy, don’t worry. He’s going to do fine.’
Almost immediately, the ambulance door was shut and it moved off.
‘The Royal,’ the paramedic said when Keri asked which hospital they were going to. She’d only a vague idea where that was, and no idea whether it was any good. But it was a hospital, Nathan would be looked after. She sat listening to the regular beep of the monitors and watching numbers she didn’t understand, reassured by the calmness of the paramedic that all was as it should be.
It was only a short drive away, she was told, but it seemed a lifetime before the ambulance stopped and the doors were opened.
Later, when she was trying to tell Abbie and Daniel about what happened, she couldn’t remember the period between arriving and being shown into the operating theatre waiting room. All she was left with was a hazy memory of long corridors and kindly faces asking questions, some of which she answered, some of which didn’t make sense.
The waiting room was empty. There were multiple signs to say mobile phone use was prohibited. Keri, never a rule breaker, ignored them as soon as the door shut behind her and rang the office.
‘Metcalfe Conservation, how may I help you?’
For a second, Keri was confused, then she squeezed her eyes shut. It was Luke, not Roy. ‘Luke, it’s Keri. Listen, there was an incident at the café. Nathan is in hospital. He’s okay but he needs some minor surgery.’ That was all, wasn’t it, the paramedics had told her the truth, hadn’t they?
Luke was understandably shocked and started to babble. ‘But he’s okay? He’s not badly injured? Gosh, that’s awful. You must be shocked. I’m so sor–’
Keri cut off his rambling words. ‘Manage as best as you can, will you? Hopefully, if all goes well, I’ll be back in tomorrow.’ She hung up before he’d time to comment and sat tapping the mobile against her chin as she wondered who else she should ring.
There seemed to be no point in worrying Nathan’s brother, or any of their friends and she had no intention of distressing their children. Time enough when Nathan was out of theatre and she knew for certain he’d be okay.
She alternated between sitting and staring at the door wishing it to open, and pacing the room worrying. The police would come but hopefully not until Nathan was safely back on a ward. They’d been naive to believe that Dexter Sylvester’s death was going to be enough revenge for Jim Cody’s. They had failed in their attempt to kill Nathan, but they’d try again. He needed police protection until they caught whoever was responsible.
They’d have questions, of course. The truth, with all its secrets, would come out. Damage limitation. With Nathan temporarily out of the way, she could be honest without repercussions.
Couldn’t she?
It was time to live up to her reputation.
She’d fix this and get their life back on track.
37
It was an hour before a doctor came into the waiting room and called her name.
‘I’m Mr Winfield,’ he said, sitting in the seat beside her. ‘Your husband is doing well. There was no underlying damage to the tendons, nerves or arteries. His blood pressure was a little low due to a combination of blood loss prior to and during surgery. We gave him a unit of blood and he still has an intravenous line in situ. We’ll keep a close eye on his pressure but I’m expecting that to right itself over the next few hours.’ He looked at her through narrow spectacles. ‘The wound was long however, and it took twenty sutures to close it but you’re in luck, my interest is in cosmetic surgery so I was happy to spend time to make sure it would leave as little a scar as possible.’
Keri tried to look grateful for that but the truth was she wouldn’t have cared if Nathan had been left with a scar a mile wide as long as he was safe. ‘Thank you, he’ll be pleased.’ She gave a genuine smile then, realising that her husband would be. He was far more vain than she.
‘I’ll see Mr Metcalfe in the morning but if everything goes according to plan I’m anticipating he’ll be ready for discharge in a couple of days.’
Home. Keri felt her eyes fill. She snuffled, stood, and held out a hand. ‘Thank you. That’s so good to hear.’
‘He was lucky,’ the doctor said shaking her hand gently before getting to his feet. ‘I hope they catch the person responsible. Right, you’ll be anxious to see him for yourself. Come with me and I’ll show you how to get to the ward.’
In a daze, Keri followed him to the door of the four-bedded unit where Nathan lay with his eyes closed, an intravenous infusion attached to one arm, a blood-pressure monitor on the other. No ECG machine. She took that as a good sign. The thick dressing across his neck was dry, no telltale line of blood to mar its pristine whiteness. Another good sign.
Mr Winfield took his leave after a few more words that Keri didn’t hear. When he’d gone, she picked up a chair from a stack near the door and sat beside Nathan’s bed.
For two hours she stayed staring at him, examining every line on his handsome face, every grey strand that had appeared in his dark hair over the last year. The cuff on his arm inflated every thirty minutes with a soft growl. She watched the numbers appear, then vanish. They meant nothing to her. Regular as clockwork, a nurse came. She checked the dressing on Nathan’s neck, and peered at the intravenous infusion, pressed a button on the blood-pressure monitor, wrote something on a clipboard that hung on the end of the bed, then gave a satisfied smile and went away.
Reassured, Keri felt the tension in her shoulders and neck ease.
Once, Nathan’s eyes opened, but he couldn’t turn his head because of the dressing and by the time she got to her feet so he could see her, he’d shut them again. She kept her fingers curled around his, calmed by the warmth of them.
In the early morning, exhausted, she bent her free arm on the bed, rested her head on it and drifted off to sleep.
Not for long, and certainly not long enough to clear the woolliness in her head.
At seven, two nurses came and asked if she’d wait outside while they looked after Nathan. She guessed it wasn’t really a request and got to her feet. ‘Is there somewhere I could get coffee?’
She was directed to a café on the ground floor near the entrance. Distracted, she got out of the lift on the wrong floor and trailed down seemingly endless corridors before realising her mistake. It was another five minutes before she saw a sign for the café. She’d walked to the counter, her eyes skimming the menu scrawled on the whiteboard behind when it hit her that she’d no money. It was this mundane lack that tipped her over into desolation.
With her head down, blinded by tears, she hurried back into the corridor. There was a ladies’ toilet nearby. She went inside and locked herself into a cubicle. There, sitting hunched over on a toilet seat, she sobbed.
It was a cathartic cry. Afterwards she felt, not better precisely, but more in control. It cleared her head too. She had Nathan’s wallet in her pocket.
The café was busy, the coffee and breakfast roll she purchased at the counter surprisingly good. She took her time and went back for a second coffee when she’d finished the first. The combination of food, caffeine and rest did her good and she felt stronger and more capable of dealing with whatever that day threw at her as she headed back to the second-floor ward.
Nathan was sitting more upright. His eyes were still closed but he was looking a little less scarily pale. The nurses had changed the dressing on his neck, replacing the thick padding with a thinner one. Yet another good sign, another hole released in her stress belt. She was standing beside the bed staring at him when his eyes flicked open.
Blank eyes stared at her and a jolt of fear shot through her. Had they lied, was he more seriously injured than she’d been led to believe?
38
‘Nate,’ Keri whispered, moving closer to slide her hand into his.
He squeezed his eyes shut and when he opened them again, they were focused. ‘Hi.’ His voice was raspy.
‘Hi yourself. How’re you feeling?’
‘Like someone tried to take my head off with a rusty tin-opener.’ His fingers curled around hers and squeezed gently. ‘But I’m alive.’
She kept her hand in his, hooked her foot around the leg of the chair to bring it closer and sat. Trying to keep her voice steady, she said, ‘I was scared I was going to lose you.’
He managed a ragged laugh. ‘You’re not getting rid of me that easily.’
She leaned forward to hide her tears, bending to press her lips to his hand. ‘I may never leave your side again.’
‘Sounds good to me.’ His eyes flickered and closed. Several minutes later, he opened them again looking more alert. ‘Hi. Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.’
‘All part of the healing process.’ She dropped her eyes to their clasped hands. ‘Can you remember what happened?’
‘Not really. I’d bought the coffee and buns and was on my way out of the café, but what happened then is a blur of light and noise.’
‘You don’t remember someone opening the door for you?’
He turned his head a little to look at her and frowned, trying to remember. ‘No, I don’t. Was that when I was stabbed? It’s all a blank. The next thing I remember is opening my eyes in the ambulance and feeling your hand in mine. I knew I was safe then, that you’d never let me go.’
‘Never.’ She squeezed his hand gently. ‘I spoke to the police at the café after it happened and told them you’d had threats made against you. I’m sure they’ll be in with questions. We need to tell them everything, then they can catch whoever did this to you.’ She felt his fingers tighten and looked up. ‘It’ll be all right, sweetheart, I promise.’
‘You always fix things, Keri.’ He pulled her hand to his mouth and planted a dry kiss on her knuckles. ‘I’m sorry for using that as criticism, I didn’t mean it. The tough choices, the hard jobs, I’ve left them to you over the years because you’re much stronger than I am, much better at making those difficult decisions. Don’t think I haven’t noticed and loved you for it.’
Keri stood again, leaned down and kissed him gently on the lips. ‘We’re a team, remember.’ For a little while, she’d forgotten. She’d not forget again. ‘We’ve been working too hard recently. When everything is sorted, let’s take some time away together.’
‘I’d like that.’
‘Back to Italy, maybe.’ Keri sat again feeling more positive about everything. The police would catch whatever maniac tried to kill Nathan, she’d forget about her moment of madness, and everything would be as it had been before. No, it wouldn’t, it would be better.
‘Italy would be good. Venice. Get a photo taken in a gondola for Abbie to use in a poster for our next anniversary. Make that a yearly tradition.’ He laughed softly, then his grip on her hand loosened, his eyes fluttered once and closed.
Keri took her hand away, sat back and smiled slightly. She wasn’t sure of the yearly tradition idea, but Venice sounded good.
When the police came, she’d insist Nathan was too weak to speak to them. She could tell them everything they needed to know… more than Nathan knew. She didn’t know if Barry had any involvement in anything that had gone on, but it was time to be completely honest. Nathan’s life might depend on it.
She regretted not having her handbag with her. She’d put that detective’s card into it, she could have rung him rather than having to wait for someone to turn up. There was something trustworthy about him; she felt she could ask… beg… that the information about her affair be kept quiet unless absolutely necessary.
The four-bedded unit had a half-glass partition that separated it from the corridor outside. Shortly after nine, a figure she recognised passed by. DI Elliot stopped in the open doorway, looked her direction, and gave a slight nod. Perhaps he’d have come to the bed but Keri held her hand up to stop him.
Nathan was still asleep. She stood and pressed a light kiss on his forehead. He didn’t wake, not even when she laid her hand gently against his cheek. ‘Back in a few minutes.’
‘Let’s go somewhere to talk,’ she said when she joined the detective. Without waiting for an answer, she crossed to the nurses’ station. ‘I need somewhere to speak to the police about the assault on my husband, is there a room we could use?’
She was directed to a small visitors’ room. That early it was empty. Once she and the detective were inside, Keri kicked the doorstop away and let the door swing shut. ‘Detective Inspector Elliot, I’m glad you’re here.’ She was also relieved he was alone. Her tale would be easier to tell without the critical eyes of that other detective boring into her.
She crossed to a seat in the corner of the room and sat. It was a comfortable chair, she’d liked to have curled up on it and gone to sleep. Hide away. The thought almost made her smile. The time for hiding was gone.
‘Your husband is doing okay, I gather.’ Elliot took the seat opposite. ‘I also understand from the reports I’ve read that he was incredibly lucky.’
‘Someone tried to kill him.’
‘Cut his throat, the same as Roy Sheppard.’ Elliot sat forward, his clasped hands dangling between his knees. ‘It looks like someone has it in for Metcalfe Conservation.’
Keri blinked, her thoughts spinning. She hadn’t connected the attack on Nathan to Roy’s death. She should have done. Nathan would be pleased to have been right. Barry Morgan’s stupid threats had blinded her. He wasn’t involved. It gave her little consolation.
The detective’s eyes had narrowed as if he were considering she’d taken too long to comment on what he’d said. Was he afraid she was going to lie? She wasn’t, not really, there was no longer any reason to tell him about Barry, no reason to confess her infidelity. Small mercies. ‘Not only Metcalfe Conservation, I’m afraid you don’t know the full story.’
Elliot tilted his head, then sat back and folded his arms across his chest. ‘You told an officer at the scene that someone had threatened you. Do you want to tell me about that?’
‘It’s a complicated tale,’ she said, playing for time while she got her thoughts in order. For all his crazy ties, she’d be foolish to underestimate this detective. His eyes were sharp and probably missed nothing.
‘The sooner you tell me–’ He gave a slight smile. ‘–the sooner it’ll be finished.’
‘Right.’ Keri took a breath, then started her story, backtracking at times when she’d left a detail out. ‘And that’s it.’
The frown on Elliot’s forehead had deepened as she spoke. ‘Okay, let me see if I have this straight. Your husband was somehow involved in the death of a sixteen-year-old boy twenty-three years ago. He had a message recently which said ‘remember JC’ after which he went to see Dexter Sylvester who also had a role to play in the boy’s death and discovered he’d been murdered. Your husband was told that a wreath with a card saying RIP had been delivered to Sylvester’s business and the entrails of an animal left outside. Since there had been a wreath delivered and a rat left at your home, he was worried that whoever had killed Sylvester was now after him.’ His frown didn’t ease as he took up his previous pose, clasped hands dangling between his knees, garish tie swinging forward.
Keri spread her hands out. ‘That’s pretty much it.’
‘When were the wreath and rat left at your house?’
Her timeline had been deliberately vague. She should have guessed he’d want to pin it down. ‘The wreath was left Sunday before last, the rat on the following Wednesday.’
‘Yet you didn’t mention any of this either on the Friday or Saturday when I spoke to you.’ He looked at her closely as if trying to figure out why they’d have neglected to tell him something so important.
She squirmed on her seat. What a tangled web she’d woven, perhaps she should tell him about
Barry and her fear that he’d sent both items. ‘It didn’t seem necessary,’ she said finally. ‘Roy hadn’t worked for us when we did that job on the manor house. He’d no involvement in the boy’s death. Plus, we hadn’t known about Sylvester at that stage, not until this week when Nathan went to Stevenage.’
‘And he went to find out if Mr Sylvester had received a similar message regarding this Jim Cody, is that correct?’
‘Yes.’
Elliot sat back, his hands resting on the arms of the chair, fingers tapping. He was looking at Keri as if he didn’t believe a word she said.
It wasn’t a good feeling especially since she’d been almost completely honest. Telling him about Barry Morgan would simply have muddied the waters. ‘Now you know everything.’ She leaned towards Elliot. ‘Nathan isn’t safe until you get whoever is seeking revenge for the death of Jim Cody.’
‘I’m not involved in the investigation into the murder of Mr Sylvester,’ Elliot said slowly. ‘However, I know the details of the case and there’s something you should probably be aware of. He was killed in his home.’ He waited a beat then gave a sigh as if deciding to go ahead. ‘His throat was cut, Mrs Metcalfe. It does indicate a link between the deaths of Roy Sheppard and Dexter Sylvester and the attack on your husband but if, as you say, Mr Sheppard wasn’t in any way involved in the death of the boy, I’m struggling to see why he would have been targeted.’
39
Keri was trying to absorb the information that Sylvester’s throat had been cut. Once again, she realised how lucky Nathan had been.
‘I have no idea why Roy was targeted,’ she said, when Elliot raised an eyebrow in a silent question. ‘I thought his death was something to do with that woman, Tracy.’ Or Barry Morgan, but she’d keep that one to herself. ‘What now?’
‘The investigations are all at their early stages. Perhaps if we’d had the information about the wreath and the rat last week, we’d have connected it to the murder of Dexter Sylvester and might be a little further forward.’ It seemed to be a statement of fact rather than a criticism.
The Couple in the Photograph Page 14
