‘I’ll see if I can get hold of her for you. Take a seat,’ the receptionist said.
Adrian stood by the counter and waited for the doors to the ward to open. He looked at the seats, but he wasn’t there yet – standing was easier. He crossed his arms, even though it hurt his ribs. Since the attack he found himself looking at people with suspicion. The fact that he knew so little about his attacker made everyone a suspect. He listened out for that voice, looked for the face he had not seen, knowing he wouldn’t know the man if he met him.
He clenched his jaw and fists to stop himself from crying again. His tears seemed to come in waves when he least expected them and his control over it was tenuous. He concentrated on his breathing, trying not to breath too deeply as it aggravated his damaged rib.
‘DS Miles. Has there been a development in the case? I heard you found that young lady, is she doing OK?’ Dr Hadley asked as she appeared at the double doors.
‘We are still investigating. I was wondering if I could speak to you in private,’ Adrian said.
He had gone over this in his mind. He had to get some kind of treatment; he was in too much pain to go back to work as he was.
‘Is this about the case? I can’t break doctor–patient confidentiality, if that’s what you want. I already told DS Grey everything I could and even that felt unethical.’
‘No, a personal matter, actually.’ He didn’t know how to describe what it was.
‘Oh, OK.’ She seemed surprised. ‘Come with me.’
She led him through the ward out into a small corridor. There was a door with her name on it and they went inside – it was a small office with no window. She had some toys in the corner of the room and a trolley pushed against the back wall. There was a bookcase stacked with medical magazines and serious-looking books. Her walls were a bright, cheery sky blue, covered in framed certificates and accolades.
‘What can I help you with, DS Miles?’
‘Adrian, please.’
She sat in her chair and nodded to another one for guests. Adrian shook his head and took a deep breath. He paced the room a little, trying to work off the anxiety enough to speak.
‘I need to see a doctor, but I need it to stay off my medical records.’
‘You should see your own GP. But it would be up to their discretion. I will say, however, keeping information from your medical files will only harm you. Future doctors will need a full and correct history in order to be able to treat you properly,’ Dr Hadley recounted with a sigh.
This was clearly a speech she had delivered before.
‘Either I see a doctor off the record, or I don’t see a doctor at all.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t help you, Adrian. It’s extremely unethical. If you’ve been abusing drugs, self-harming or anything illegal, then it really needs to be on the record. For my sake as well as yours.’
‘It’s not that,’ he said.
‘I would strongly advise against urging a doctor to do this for you. Why did you pick me and not your own doctor, out of interest? Because we went for dinner once?’
‘Because you’re nice, and fair. You seem trustworthy. I’ve seen the way you deal with your patients. I need to speak to someone I can trust to be discreet. Knowing how hard it is to get any pertinent information about patients from you, I know you can be trusted. I don’t want to go to someone I don’t know with this. It’s too important,’ he said.
He could feel his eyes brimming again.
Dr Hadley stood and folded her arms, taking Adrian’s statement as flattery and rolling her eyes.
‘Let’s have a hypothetical conversation, then.’
Adrian took a deep breath before speaking.
‘Hypothetically, I have some injuries that I need a doctor to look at. I may also, hypothetically, need a prescription for pain relief. I need to take some time off work because of the pain, but I want to get back to work as soon as possible and I need to know that I physically can. I don’t want my DCI or my colleagues to know about this. I promise I haven’t broken the law in any way, but I am in a somewhat impossible situation.’
After some deliberation, the doctor finally spoke again.
‘All right. I will look at your injuries. I can see you’ve been in the wars.’
Adrian took his jacket off and slowly pulled his sweatshirt over his head, exposing his bruises. Dr Hadley put her latex gloves on and started to press against the Seville orange-sized bruise on his ribs. He flinched at her touch.
‘Is it broken?’ he asked.
‘A tiny fracture, I suspect. As long as you have been resting then it shouldn’t be a problem; a couple of weeks and it could be back to normal. The bruise on your back will heal in less time; nothing there is damaged. Why don’t you want these on your record?’
He picked up his oversized sweatshirt and she helped him to put it back on.
‘Is your door locked?’ he asked as he kicked off his shoes. He walked over to the trolley and started to unbutton his jeans.
‘Could you turn around, please?’
He had no choice.
Dr Hadley locked the door and waited as he climbed up on the bed facing away from her. Every movement caused him pain, his eyes wet with those unexpected tears. He wasn’t sure if it was the constant pain or deep-rooted humiliation that was causing them.
‘OK,’ Adrian said.
‘What happened to you, DS Miles?’ she asked as she approached, pulling the sweatshirt up and exposing his injuries.
‘What does it look like?’ Adrian said.
‘Jesus! When did this happen?’
‘A couple of nights ago.’
‘This was non-consensual?’
‘I did not consent, no.’
‘And you’ve not seen a doctor until now? Why did you wait?’
‘I thought I could get better on my own.’
‘Do you mind if I examine you?’
‘That’s why I am here. Sorry to spring my pasty backside on you like this,’ he tried to joke.
‘I’m going to have to touch you to do a proper examination. I’ll use lubricant and I’ll be as fast and gentle as I can, is that OK with you?’
‘Yes. I need to get back to work and at the moment, I can’t even sit down. Is there anything you can do about that?’
‘Have you spoken to anyone about this?’ she asked quietly.
‘Just you. I haven’t told anyone else and I don’t want anyone to know. This could destroy my career if anyone finds out.’
‘You didn’t report it?’ Dr Hadley said.
‘No. The thought of anyone else knowing is making me suicidal. I can get through this, but I need to do it my way,’ Adrian said, appreciating his own hypocrisy. He had always implored victims to come forward and speak out and yet here he was unwilling to do the same.
She placed her hand on his hip to warn him that she was starting her examination. Adrian couldn’t talk anymore. He was concentrating on staying still, terrified of the pain that he knew was coming. She was gentle, but it made no difference. The crying started again and he hated himself for it. He wanted to throw up again; he wanted to run away.
‘We are still within a window where a swab might provide results if it only happened a couple of nights ago.’
‘Would you be able to keep my name off the test? Could you get it analysed anonymously?’ Adrian asked.
He wanted to know who had done this to him, but he still didn’t want anyone to know what had happened.
‘I could process as a John Doe. All you would be is a serial number. I can process the kit through the crisis centre.’
‘You would do that?’
‘I would.’
‘OK, then do it,’ Adrian said.
He didn’t have to use the evidence right away. There might not even be any, but if there was, he instinctively wanted to preserve it. So many victims of sexual assault change their mind about prosecuting after allowing themselves time to heal. He would hate to think he destroyed any eviden
ce and any chance of catching the people who did this to him. Even if he couldn’t face going after them this week or even this month, it could happen and if it did, he wanted to have as much information as possible.
She opened a drawer in her desk and he heard the rustling of a plastic bag before feeling her hand on his hip again. The swab didn’t hurt, even though he had braced himself for pain.
‘You can get up now,’ Dr Hadley said when she was done.
Adrian got up and put his trousers back on, every breath a struggle.
‘What’s the verdict?’
‘I’ll prescribe you some lidocaine ointment. Things should ease up after a couple of days. Although you have sustained a lot of injuries there, none of them are going to require anything more than time to heal. The lidocaine should help, but for the most part you just need to be careful for a while.
‘The fissures in your anus are mostly superficial, even if there are a lot of them. I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but you got lucky. Those injuries are as close as it gets to serious without being anything other than painful and inconvenient. A little more force and you could have needed emergency surgery.’
‘So, I just keep using the ointment?’ he said, blocking out the rest of her words, still struggling to believe he was even in this situation.
‘Yes, they should be completely healed in around four weeks, but you should regain full mobility a lot sooner. I’ll also prescribe you some proper painkillers.’
‘You’ll keep this between us?’ he asked.
‘I’ve put something innocuous in the file to explain the treatments I’m prescribing. The medication really needs to be documented on your records, in case you have an adverse reaction or need to take any other medication that may not be compatible with it. It’s for your safety.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I’ll get that sample processed as soon as I can. It could take a while,’ she said. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Don’t!’ Adrian’s eyes filled again. ‘I don’t even know.’
‘You should speak to someone, Adrian. You’ve been through a serious trauma. If you can’t face seeing a counsellor, then maybe a friend. If you are religious, then you could go and speak to someone at the church. Have you experienced any symptoms of PTSD?’
‘I don’t know what I’m experiencing. I can’t think straight.’ He wiped his face with his sleeve.
She handed him a box of tissues from her desk.
‘Difficulty sleeping? Nightmares? Are you more irritable than normal? Are you emotionally numb to situations or people? Are you avoiding things so you don’t get upset? Are you more aware of your surroundings? Are you afraid?’
‘All of that, yes.’
‘Do you find yourself reliving the attack, or reminded of it constantly? Are you blaming yourself? Are you struggling to remember details of the attack? Are you full of negativity towards yourself and others? Is your concentration off?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘What do I do? What’s the treatment for that?’
She searched on her desk and found a business card then handed it to him. She sat down and logged into her computer. Then she found his records and typed up a few notes before writing him a prescription. The printer came to life.
‘Well, there is no pill for it. It’s possible that it will go away on its own; sometimes it does. What I think we should do for now is keep an eye on you. We call it watchful waiting. After a month, if it’s still as persistent as it is now, then we can move forwards with treatment.’
‘What if it doesn’t go away?’
‘Then you will need a mixture of medication and psychotherapy. I’m not going to lie to you, Adrian. You’ve got a long road ahead of you. It’s really important that you try to trust the people around you to help you through it. Don’t push people away; it will only make it worse.’
‘I don’t feel like I have any control over what I do at the moment. My actions and reactions are beyond me … if that makes any sense.’
‘Do you know who your attacker was?’
‘I have no idea.’ He shook his head.
Dr Hadley hesitated. ‘I’d like you to consider having an HIV test.’
‘What? No.’
Adrian hadn’t even thought of that. Another thing to add to the ever-increasing mound of shit his life was becoming.
‘If you are concerned about anonymity then you can go to the GUM clinic on Sidwell Street and get tested there. It’s a walk-in clinic, so you could go straight from here.’
‘I don’t want an HIV test on my medical record.’
‘If you go to the GUM clinic then the test is completely confidential. Even if it comes back positive then you need to sign a consent form for the information to be released to any other medical bodies, including your GP. The information would stay completely within that specific clinic and wouldn’t be shared with anyone.’
‘I can’t get my head round this,’ Adrian said.
‘Did the attack happen less than seventy-two hours ago?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then I will give you some PEP, post-exposure prophylaxis.’ She unlocked the steel locker in her room and took out two separate bottles of pills. ‘Here you go. One of each a day for the next thirty days. When you finish the course, we can run the HIV test again if you want to. Call me if you need me to arrange an appointment.
‘There is another self-test you can do yourself, at home, anonymously, if you need even more reassurance. It’s not worth taking a risk with this, Adrian. Just get the test done. I work at the GUM clinic once a week; if you want, I can call with the test results once they come through. I know how stressful this must be for you.’
Adrian let out an incredulous laugh at her remark but then instantly felt guilty – she was trying to help him.
‘You don’t mind doing that for me? I would really appreciate that, thank you.’
‘Come and see me next week. I’ll check your injuries again; make sure you are healing properly. You can expect some bleeding after bowel movements. Rather than wiping, maybe have a shower whenever you can or use wet wipes. Eat fibrous food to try to keep your stools loose. You need to give yourself time to heal. I’ll write you a sick note for work. We’ll start with two weeks off, then we can see how you are then.’
‘Thank you, Dr Hadley.’
‘Adrian, call me at any time if you’re feeling suicidal. I’m usually in the hospital, but if I can’t take your call, I will ring you right back as soon as I can.’
‘Thank you, Dr Hadley,’ he said, his voice cracking and the tears springing again.
What the hell was going on? How was he even having this conversation? Whose life is this?
‘Zoe, please. I’m glad you trusted me with this. You did the right thing coming to me. It’s important you don’t go through this alone.’
She handed him the slip of paper for the pathology lab before taking his other hand in hers. For the first time since it had happened, he didn’t flinch at someone’s touch. He felt safe here.
He took as deep a breath as he could before unlocking her office, his sanctuary, and venturing out into the unknown again.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Imogen and DI Walsh drove mostly in silence. She missed the banter she had with Adrian. Walsh didn’t really speak much when it wasn’t work-related. She didn’t even know if he owned a TV; he was a very strange and secretive man.
The fact that, so far, they had not found a single person who would come forward and speak against Reece Corrigan was exasperating. Nor had they found any incriminating evidence against either him or his company. No one had anything good to say about him, but no one claimed to have anything but rumours or suspicions, either. What hold did he have over those people? How could any one man have so much power? There was only one person left to appeal to: Angela Corrigan. They knew where Reece was and so, with any luck, she would be at home alone. Maybe Imogen could get her to talk.
When they pulled into the
driveway of the Corrigan house, the white Lexus was parked outside.
Imogen turned to Walsh. ‘I’d like to speak to her alone, if that’s OK? As a woman, maybe I can appeal to her in the way a man can’t.’
‘You want me to wait in the car?’
‘If you don’t mind.’
‘Would you ask DS Miles to wait in the car, out of interest?’ Walsh asked.
‘This really isn’t personal and it isn’t about you. I think I have a better shot of talking to this woman alone and getting somewhere. That’s all. For what it’s worth, I actually think DS Miles would be asking me to wait in the car. And I would do it, because I trust his judgement as a police officer. I don’t have a problem with you, Matt. I hope I haven’t given you that impression.’
‘OK, DS Grey. I will take your word for it.’
Imogen got out of the car; she couldn’t be bothered to talk it through with Walsh anymore. The fact was, she didn’t think bombarding Angela with questions from all sides would work. If she was honest, she was actually doing this because she thought it was what Adrian might do. Whatever she thought of Angela, she was a victim. It wasn’t as though Imogen didn’t see her that way, but she just couldn’t understand why she would stay with a man who treated her so appallingly.
There again, Imogen also had to admit that you never know how you would react to a situation until you are in it. She couldn’t know for sure she wouldn’t do exactly the same thing. The people they had interviewed about Reece Corrigan were terrified of him. Imogen reminded herself that Angela had tried to get away and almost died because of it. Of course she was too scared to try again.
Imogen knocked on the door.
‘Detective.’
Angela answered the door and looked around the front of the house to check for anyone else. She spotted the car and saw DI Walsh in there. Angela took a step back to allow Imogen to come inside. After closing the door, Angela walked into the dining room and sat at the table, letting out a big sigh.
‘I hope you don’t mind me stopping by,’ Imogen started. ‘We just spoke to your husband at work and so we knew you would be alone.’
‘Well, he could be back quite soon, so just ask what you want to ask and I’ll consider whether I can answer or not.’
Woman in the Water Page 17
