“Natalie, can I make you a drink?” Sally asked.
“Ooh, could you, love? A drop of whiskey with a splash of water would go down right well about now. You’ll find the whiskey bottle at the side of the bread bin.”
Sally looked at me and rolled her eyes. Natalie Kirk didn’t notice, she was busy texting someone. Her fingers shaking now whereas they had been steady before.
I nodded at Sally and then towards the stairs indicating I planned to go up and have a look around. She nodded. I wasn’t comfortable with the situation here – the lack of parenting and then lack of care when she attended the newspaper offices instead of the police station. Greed and self-service had been the tone of the whole day and it made my insides crawl. I needed to know about the woman, more about Allison and her life, both before she went missing and when she was missing. Were the two things connected? And how was Natalie going to behave in the coming days once she had processed the loss of her daughter a bit more?
Allison’s was the first room at the top of the stairs. I was surprised by what I saw. An effort had been made to keep it tidy. Clothes were hung up in a small double wardrobe, with a few pairs of shoes stacked in the bottom. She had an old computer on a desk and a diary at the side of it. Coloured pens adorned the fluorescent pencil pot and a small make-up bag, covered inside by loose make-up powder, was filled with the teenage necessities: foundation, black eye-liner and lots of mascara. Several tubes filled the bag.
Her bed was made; sleep time embroidered on a cream bed-sheet, matching pillowcases and curtains giving the look of an organised room. Then, out of the corner of my eye I saw the air freshener, plugged into a spare socket. It explained the floral scent or at the very least, the attempt to disguise the foul odour of the rest of the house.
Though she may have been troubled, I was beginning to form the opinion Allison wanted what the rest of the girls in her school year wanted, and she was mature enough to see her home life was not that.
Sally walked in. She raised her eyebrows as she took in the tidy room.
“Natalie wants to know how long we’re going to be as she wants to contact Ethan.” More eye rolling. It’s amazing how much non-verbal communication you can get away with when you have an opinion about a situation, and we both had an opinion about this situation.
“Not too long, I’m going to seize some items from Allison’s room, then have a quick look around the rest of the house.”
As I stood taking in Allison’s room I got the feeling that she was a normal teenager from a difficult life. I felt a sorrow for Allison, for a life and future she had now missed, and a sorrow for the ending she had met.
We walked out of the house with a computer tower and diaries from Allison’s room and a sticky, dusty laptop from the living room. I felt dirty and could smell the grime clinging to me as Sally and I loaded the boot of the car with the seized property. Natalie didn’t want to talk any more, she’d said it was getting late and she needed to talk to Ethan. Sally handed Natalie her card containing contact details and told her she would be available should she want to talk. She also told her she would pop by tomorrow to see how she was doing. Natalie looked surprised that someone should offer to be there for her and a single tear had slid down her cheek without the usual drama. Maybe she had a human side after all. Maybe.
I slammed the car boot shut and climbed in the driver’s seat, Sally in the passenger side. I opened my mouth, about to discuss Natalie, when a roar ripped through the air. The car was lifted rapidly from its nearside wheels. I heard a scream somewhere to my left, distant and swallowed by the huge wall of sound. My head slammed forward, air pushed out of me. The car crashed back down. I sucked for breath but there was none. Blackness.
31
The silence was deafening, covering the blackness like a shield. I pushed at my eyelids. They refused to open.
It started to break apart. Slowly. A heaviness pushed down on me and cold metal dug against my face. I couldn’t make out where I was. Everything felt disjointed. Sounds began to filter through the darkness. A soft broken moaning. I concentrated on the sound, grasping for something solid, and realised it was me.
Fragments of shouting. Distant conversation. More shouting. A loud roar split through my head and senses. Flashes of orange splintered through the blackness. Too bright. A deep grinding sensation reverberating through me. It was harsh. I let the darkness protect me and gave in to it.
The noise faded in and out like an old style radio being tuned into a station it couldn’t quite catch. Sounds breaking through an empty space that was sucking at me, pulling me in as I tried to find the right frequency. I could make out hammering and metal crunching. There was a pressure, a heaviness across my chest which made it near impossible to draw breath.
Hurried voices. Clawing hands. Darkness and silence.
Thoughts crumbled around me, pebbles on a beach moving with the tide.
Eventually silence.
32
She rested the side of her face on the bars, the thin metal rods cool on her skin. She wrapped her arms around her knees, pulling them up to her chest. The pain had started to lessen and she wondered about the drink she’d been given. The break from the pain gave her time to think and her thoughts turned to her friends. She wondered if they remembered her.
She let her mind wander free in this direction. Where did they think she was? Would anyone miss her? What were they doing? She fingered the bars. This wasn’t an outburst. She wasn’t being stroppy. All the things that used to set her off were meaningless now. Who cared who bought the latest One Direction song, pencil sharpeners or other gimmicks first, or who was most popular online. Caring about those things was stupid.
She wanted to be at home and to never leave the house again. She wished for her irritating two-year-old sister to poke her and ask for help dressing up and she’d never say no again. She’d never yell at her to go away and Mum would never have to tell her to have more patience. She wanted to tell them all how much she loved them. She had always loved them.
Why wasn’t anyone coming? Didn’t they care? Had she been so bad and awful they didn’t even consider looking for her? All better off without her?
She looked past the bars that confined her, out at her surroundings. She didn’t like it here, she didn’t want to be here. She wanted to go home.
33
“So you’re in the land of the living, huh.” The statement broke the silence.
The brightness bounced off the pale painted walls causing me to blink several times. Aaron stood to the side holding a brown bag like a drunk in the street. He looked as though he’d been caught stealing out of his grandmother’s purse. My eyes closed against the glare.
“Unless death is carrying a gin bottle in a sun spot, I think I am.”
“Um, oh yeah.” He moved to the blinds and drew them across the window, darkening the room. My eyelids were heavy and a vice seemed to tighten around my head as I opened them. I raised my hand. Pain shot through my ribs and took my breath away. I winced and sucked in air. Aaron stood and watched. He shifted his feet, checked his tie with one hand, then shoved the brown paper bag at me. I imagined him on his first date and shut my eyes again.
“Grapes not your thing?”
Blinking, I took the bag. “Thanks.” I dropped them on the bed. It took a few seconds for my brain to engage. I hadn’t been alone in the car. “How’s Sally?” I asked.
“She’s okay. You’ve both been battered. The doctor said you’ve got a concussion and a couple of fractured ribs. You took the brunt of the impact. Sally was lifted out of her seat and dumped on top of you. You’ve been lucky.”
“Tell that to my head.” I put my hand up to my forehead. The action hurt every bone and muscle. I winced.
“Docs say you’ll be here a couple of days for observation. Sally will be in longer.”
“What happened, Aaron?”
“Fire guys reckon it looks like a gas explosion. They’re spending some time on it.
You smell anything while you were in there?”
“I smelled plenty; the place was a refuse site. What happened to Natalie?”
“She survived. Looking at the house, I don’t know how she managed it. It’s flattened. It would seem she was in the living room at the front when the blast went up. She was knocked about and hit by flying debris, but I think she must have been protected by something to come out alive. She’s pretty smashed up. She’s got some burn injuries, a nasty head injury which the docs are concerned about, broken bones and internal injuries. They’ve induced a coma and have tubes breathing for her. She won’t be talking to us any time soon.”
I hadn’t liked Natalie Kirk, but she didn’t deserve this. She identified her daughter in the mortuary today and now she was in a hospital on life support.
Aaron stayed long enough to update me on events and then he was gone. I managed to eat a couple of grapes but nausea swept my insides and I had a serious itch to get out of there. Rosie, Allison and now Natalie. What were the connections? What were we missing? I couldn’t think straight in the confines of a hospital bed. I needed to be at my desk and to read the reports as they came in. Not sat here, waiting for a doctor to assess me and tell me I was okay. I knew I was okay.
My thoughts tumbled around. Was the blast at Natalie Kirk’s house a simple gas explosion or was there more to it? Why would anyone target Natalie if it wasn’t accidental? My head started to spin with the questions. A wave of nausea reared up and hit me hard, I curled myself up on the bed in an attempt to ease the wretchedness I felt.
“Hannah?”
Superintendent Catherine Walker stood in the doorway. She looked relaxed. Her feathers never seemed to be ruffled. I wondered if they ever would be. She was one of those people you hear described as born leaders. She assimilated and acted on information received in the blink of an eye, confident in the knowledge the right decision had been reached. Now I wondered what this decision was. Catherine Walker wasn’t the hearts and flowers type of boss. She gave rapid sure fire answers to tough questions, but she didn’t do hospital visits.
“Ma’am.” I pushed with my palms on the bed and forced my elbows to lock in an attempt to get myself up. Queasiness circled inside me. I gritted my teeth.
She stepped into the room. “No. Stay still.” She pulled a chair from the corner and placed it at the side of my bed, sitting herself neatly in front of me as she smoothed her trousers. “How are you, Hannah? Really.”
Partially upright I collapsed back on the dozen pillows I’d been provided with and faced my superintendent side on, well aware I looked far from my best. “As you’d expect after being thrown over in a car.”
The corners of her mouth turned up, but the sentiment didn’t travel to her eyes. “Take as long as you need to before you come back to work. It’s important you take care of yourself.” She clasped her hands on her lap, never taking her eyes off me.
Oh, that’s where this was headed, she was going to try and pull my job from under me.
“I’m fine, ma’am. All I need is a good night’s sleep and I’ll be back on the case again tomorrow.”
She looked at me. I couldn’t figure out what she was thinking.
“Hannah.” She paused, made sure I was listening. “We need to make some progress with the investigation. The case has caught the attention of the national press. And with you laid up injured the team has no direction. I need someone to pull this in and you need time to heal.” She paused a beat, her eyes never left me. “I’m sorry. Anthony is taking over as SIO for now.”
I’m not sure why she bothered with the sorry sentiment. I wasn’t sure she had been sorry about a decision in her life. She weighed up the options and implications and worked with what she had. “What? No! I’m fine. I know this case. I have a feel for these kids. There’s a link between them. I’m learning who they were and what their lives were about and that knowledge will lead us to whoever is killing them. You can’t yank me off it this way.” I was more forceful than I would have been had we been in the office. I imagined the bravery came from the drugs the hospital had given me. She let it slide.
“You do know the case, Hannah, and you’re the best person for the job. I don’t like to change SIOs in the middle of an investigation, but you’re in no fit state to continue with it. When you come back we’ll speak and assess your ability to carry on. I need someone focused on the investigation.” She stood. “I also need to take care of my officers. Okay?”
I nodded. She was impossible to fight once her mind had been made up. I had to choose my battles with care. I would get this job back. It was my case and I would finish it for Rosie and Allison.
“Feel better soon, Hannah,” she said as she turned on her heel.
34
The was a gentle hum of nurses going about their work behind my door, squeaky wheels of medicine carts, mellowed toned phones ringing, the chatter of soothing voices and stern commands for those not quite compliant patients. I felt comforted by these sounds as I awoke. It was dusky. The daily routine of the ward reminded me that life was on-going and I was still a part of it. It felt good. Now I needed to give my survival meaning and that meaning was to secure the arrest of the monster in our city before he had chance to strike again.
I turned to the cupboard at the side of my bed to get my phone and saw a neat little bear, and in between its paws sat a small box of chocolates. It was adorable. Not huge and overbearing like the ones you see when women have children, and massive two foot bears, balloons and little white knitted clothes take over the room, it was neat, organised and presented. A crisp white card was held in the ribbon wrapped around the chocolate box. Pain made me flinch as I reached over to pick it out. The inscription read: Ethan x. So Ethan had been in? Or had he sent the bear by delivery? Without knowing how long I’d been out of it, I didn’t know if I had missed any visitors. It annoyed me. I was awake when Catherine Walker deemed it acceptable to remove me from my position as I lay in my hospital bed, but not when Ethan comes in. It was a fucked up day.
My musings reminded me Natalie Kirk was in this hospital somewhere. Attached to tubes, with her life supported by machinery. The woman had been through enough. I felt bad for her.
I shifted my feet, pushing them out from under clean white sheets and waited a moment, wondering if one small action would scupper me, but I was okay. I pushed round with my body until I was upright and gingerly dropped to the cold vinyl floor. The hospital gown gaped around my rear. I pulled at the ties to protect what little dignity I had. I felt weak and drained as I shuffled out of my room towards the nurses’ station. It reminded me of a bee hive my father used to keep, lots of activity that looked like complete discord. It took a while for someone to notice I was there. They were busy. Ten minutes passed and after admonishments that I should be in my own bed, I was given directions to Natalie Kirk in the ICU.
She looked so doll-like. Her tiny frame was hidden by a vast expanse of starched white cotton, stamped with the hospital logo and draped across her. A ventilator chugged up and down, pumping the very breath into her. Wires and tubes snaked away from her body to monitors that were softly beeping. Natalie Kirk was alive, but only just.
35
Rain fell from the dark sky, small shallow drops. The grey flat frontage of Central police station rose ahead of me. I sheltered under the cover of the YMCA building on Shakespeare Street, watching as pedestrians walked past, uninterested in the stranger on the path, their obvious intent to move to their destination before the rain became worse.
I took a deep breath, winced with the action and steeled myself. This wouldn’t be easy but I had to do it. Zipping my coat up under my chin, I pushed my hands down into my pockets. I really did need to buy some gloves. Two uniformed cops ran into the front yard of the station. No sooner was the driver in than blue lights were flashing and the vehicle was moving out of its position and turning right onto the road. Life still went on, no matter whether I was here or not. But I preferred it if I wa
s. Everything had a different feel. There was a sense that I’d have to fight for my place, my role. The explosion had the effect of bringing more clarity. I couldn’t move without wincing but I wanted to get back to work. We had a child killer to bring in. I had to fight the pain and keep going.
The nursing staff hadn’t wanted to release me. It had taken a good portion of the day to get discharged. The doctor prescribed painkillers for my ribs and gave me a head injury leaflet and a list of medical issues that, should they occur, ought to bring me straight back to the ward. A nurse wrote the ward telephone number on the leaflet and told me I’d have access for the next forty-eight hours. After that I needed to go through Accident and Emergency again. I’d swallowed two pills and then left. They couldn’t do anything else for me, but there was a lot I could achieve, out here on the investigation.
It was early afternoon by the time I got home by taxi. I checked my phone, which had miraculously survived the blast in my pocket. Fifteen missed calls. Evie had made four, a couple were from my dad, but the majority were withheld numbers. They were probably work calls, before the explosion. The taxi waited for me as my car was still parked here at work. A five minute shower and change and soon enough I was here. I felt in my pocket for the painkillers and relaxed when my fingers touched the plastic corner of the blister pack.
I had to go in and fight for my role as SIO. I knew more about this investigation than anyone. I had to fight for the respect of my team. I didn’t want to go in and be looked at with sympathy. I had to go in there and take it over and deal with the team up front. With two children already dead and little in the way of leads, we had to work harder. I would work harder.
Shallow Waters (Detective Hannah Robbins crime series Book 1) Page 9
