by Val Penny
Why didn't the car stop? The driver saw her. Why drive back over her? They knew she was hurt. Why drive away? Annie knew that face. She remembered that face. She would never describe that face.
She dreamt that the car sped towards her. She hit the windscreen. She screamed. The face screamed. The windscreen cracked. She bounced twice as she hit the ground. It really hurt. Her head hurt and she had so many bruises. She hurt all over.
Then, Annie felt the babies move. If she could, she would have fondled her belly and smiled.
Previously, Annie had had no idea how bad it was that Frankie was the dad. Ma would help. Ma knew. She wished Ma were here now.
Annie heard the nurse come into the room. It was the nice one who spoke to her.
“Hello, mystery girl. It's me, Tess. How are you feeling today, my lovely? Did you sleep well?”
Annie could not reply.
“It's sunny this morning. Mind you, I doubt that will last. We're nearly at the end of November. Christmas soon. What a thought.”
Annie liked the chat, even though she couldn’t join in.
“I hope it stays dry this afternoon. I'm going out to the coast for a walk with my boyfriend when I finished work at three. He is different from anyone else I have ever known.” Tess laughed to herself.
Annie couldn't laugh.
“You're vital signs are good, young lady,” Tess went on. “Now you are to become a star today. You are going to get your picture taken. The police are going to send one of their photographers. The idea is that it will appear in the papers. The hope is that someone will see the picture and know you. Then they will be able to tell us who you are.”
Tess also took a swab from inside Annie’s cheek. It didn't hurt.
“This is just so the police can check your DNA. We can't get the DNA of the babies until after they are born, but we know the twins are girls.”
Annie knew that. They’d told her at a scan. Twin baby girls, pink gingham, chubby legs, baby smells. All denied to Annie. Perfect, precious twin girls. All Annie could do was give them life. That she could do. That she would do.
Tess continued to chat. “Have you chosen names for the girls? I don't like my name, Theresa, that's why I use Tess.” She paused. “I'm so sorry the driver of the car didn’t stop. Maybe they could have helped you or even saved you. I suppose they panicked when they reversed over you. Otherwise they would have called an ambulance instead.”
Annie knew they wouldn't have done.
“We will try very hard to save your babies, dear.
Annie screamed inside, Save the twins! Don't worry about me, just save my babies.
Tess suddenly began to hum as she adjusted Annie's position and tidied her bed. Annie was sorry when Tess left her alone in her room again.
Annie had never liked getting her picture taken. There were not that many photos of her, not even on Facebook. If there was a group, she stayed at the back. If she saw a phone or a camera pointing in her direction, she looked away. But today there was no choice. She could not move or even turn her head. So they would take her picture and show as many people as possible. Annie's worst nightmare.
Tess combed Annie's hair and plumped up her pillows.
“I'll try to cover your bruises and cuts with some make-up. I'll put a clean nightie on you. I've found a bright blue one in lost property. Hold still, I'll apply a little bit of my lippy and eyeliner so that you'll look as good as you possibly can.”
Annie thought it was nice of Tess.
A young police detective had come with the photographer to take Annie's picture. The photographer was a lady, but her name was Sam. Annie would have smiled. Her Da liked Johnny Cash. He sang A Boy named Sue. This amused Annie.
“So this is our mystery lady,” Tess turned to Annie. “The policeman's name is Tim...” Annie did not get his last name. She heard him talking gently around her. He paid attention to detail, doing his best, to work with the photographer.
“Sam, let's get the lighting right to make sure the victim does not seem to have a double chin. She's only a wee thing, but what a lovely mop of red hair she has.”
Annie would have blushed if she could.
Sam took one photo. “What do you think, Tim?”
“Yep. Take a few more, so the boss has a choice.”
Tim and Tess huddled to admire the photographer's work.
“You know, Tess, this is the second red-haired woman in sad circumstances we have come across this week,” Tim remarked. “The funny thing is, I think I know the other woman: she cleaned for my father. But this one is young enough to be her daughter.”
Annie’s heart missed a beat. The machinery that was prolonging her existence started beeping; a horrible noise. Lights were flashing. Tess moved over to the bed and made some adjustments. She stayed with Annie until the beeping stopped.
Tim and the photographer stood and watched Tess in silence. When she was finished, she walked back over to them.
“What about this girl's baby?” Tim asked.
“Babies. She's expecting twins,” Tess said. “They are doing fine so far, but we have no hope of saving the coma mum. But we have to hope she stays well enough to leave them inside the mum for a while yet.”
Annie liked the idea of being Mum, but Coma Mum was horrid.
Her own Ma had always looked out for her. She wondered where Ma was now.
Tim left with Sam. They left Annie alone with Tess again.
Tess wiped away the line of tears from Annie's cheeks and said the photos would be lovely. She would soon have a name.
Annie wanted to tell Tess that she had a name: she was Annie Johnson, and because of that wicked driver, she was going to die.
More tears.
Chapter Twenty
Tim took his leave of Sam Hutchens in the overcrowded hospital car park. It never failed to amaze him that the architects of the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary hadn't foreseen the need for a decent amount of parking.
He returned to the station where it was not difficult to find Detective Inspector Hunter Wilson. He was tucked up in the murder enquiry room in front of an open file with Mel Grant, a large black coffee beside him. They were looking at a report.
When Tim entered the room, their body language told him it was clearly a report he was not meant to see. It must relate to Dad's break-in. Tim chose to ignore the DI's swift closure of the file as he approached.
“I thought you might like to see the photos Sam took of the injured girl, Boss. They have her on life support, and the nurse says there is nothing they can do for her. She took a turn while Sam and I were there. It was difficult to watch.”
“Okay, young Myerscough, let's have a look at her.” Hunter put the memory stick into the computer and brought the photos up onto his screen. Tim and Mel looked over his shoulder.
“Bonnie girl,” Hunter commented.
“She is,” said Tim. “Sam Hutchens did her best, but the photos don't really do the girl justice. Tragic. She's only being kept alive to try to save her babies. The head and internal injuries are too severe to save our Coma Mum. Can you believe she's carrying twins, Sir? She's so young!”
“I'd heard. Shocking that the driver left her lying at the side of the road. There's no way the driver didn't know they’d hit her, or at least hit something, someone. In fact one nosey neighbour is sure the driver knowingly reversed the car back over the kid.“
“Thank God for nosey neighbours!” Mel commented. “The dog woman who saw the accident was less than useless. She got such a shock. She says it was a big boxy grey or silver car, but no registration number, not even partial. No make of car or description of the driver. Hopeless!”
“Be fair, Mel. It was a pretty nasty thing to see right in front of her,” Tim argued. “I wonder about the damage to the car. There must be a lot.”
Tim paused and bit his lip. He was conscious that he was new to the team, but he had a thought he wanted to share. ”I don't want to speak out of turn, Sir. I just wondered if it i
s a coincidence that the woman my dad found and this girl both have red hair?”
“Plenty of redheads in Scotland, Tim,” said Mel.
“Also, I'm thinking about what Joe Johnson said.” Tim paused and looked at the DI.
Hunter looked at Tim. “Remind me, young Myerscough, what did the fragrant Mr Johnson have to say?”
“Well, if you look at his statement—”
“I am asking you, Tim, what did he say that you think is relevant?”
“He was talking about his wife being missing. He said she has red hair and he mentioned they have a daughter. The daughter could have red hair too. If the woman my dad found is Joe Johnson's wife, of course.”
“Could have, would have, should have!” Hunter frowned. ”You are wasting your time and mine. It would be rather a coincidence if Joe Johnson's wife and daughter were the two women in our cases.”
“Coincidence, Boss?” Mel asked. “I thought you didn't believe in coincidence. Wouldn't it give us a direct link?”
Hunter screwed up his eyes. “I don't like coincidences, Mel. I don't believe in them.” He turned to Tim. “Don't know, hard to tell, Myerscough. As Mel says, lots of red hair in Scotland.” He stood up. “Let's take these photos to the morgue and see if we can see a resemblance. Pity we don't have the DNA back yet.”
He grabbed his jacket and threw the car keys to Tim. “You drive. I have to think. Mel, find out if CSIs can help with Jamie's statement. See if his fingerprints are on the bags of cocaine.”
“Yes, Boss,” Tim and Mel replied in unison.
***
While Tim drove to the mortuary, Hunter called Meera to tell her they were on their way. He explained they wanted to see the golf course lady and compare her face and hair with that of a coma patient in the hospital. It was a long shot, but it was worth a look. It was always worth a visit to Meera.
“We will soon have DNA from both, Sir,” Tim said. “That will be definitive.”
“True. Have you ever seen a corpse?” Hunter asked Tim.
“Yes. My dog died when I was 10.”
“I meant a human corpse, young Myerscough,” Hunter sneered. He was pleased at the thought of getting one over on his former Chief Constable's son.
“Of course, Sir. My mother died when I was a teenager. I helped my dad and my sister as we nursed her through the cancer. I found her the morning she died. I thought you might have known. You didn't know my dad was a widower? No reason you should, I suppose.”
Shit, of course he fucking did! Of course, Tim Myercough found his mother. That was well known in the force at the time. Tim Myerscough was only a kid, then. Fuck! Hunter had been so busy being smart and trying to put Tim down that he had overlooked the obvious. He felt mean and small.
“Of course. Sorry.”
***
Tim pretended not to notice Hunter's attempt to humiliate him.
“Dad really changed after Mum died,” he said. “It was so hard for him. Just him, Ailsa and me. It must have been lonely for him, when I think of it now. Grim. Still, he did his best. Bear's folks were good to Ailsa and me, too. They included us in family gatherings and holidays when Dad was working. He really spent silly hours on the force. I suppose it was a way to escape reality.”
Tim sighed and tried to pull himself together from the inside out. These were painful memories. He shook himself back to reality, then he parked the car and turned to Hunter.
“Shall we go and see what we can find out, Boss? At least until the DNA results are in.”
“Let's go.” Hunter led the way to Meera's office.
***
“It is nice to meet you, Tim. I worked with your father on many cases in the past. Gosh! It makes me feel old to have you here in an official capacity now!” Meera smiled up at Tim. Wow! He was a looker, she thought. Rugby nose, but still a hunk and seemed completely unaware of it. Nice.
She led the way to the refrigerators, pulled out Golf Course Lady’s trolley, and stood back as Hunter and Tim stared at her face. They scanned the photo and looked back to Golf Course Lady, again and again.
“What do you think?” Hunter asked. “I think they could be mother and daughter, don't you, Meera?”
“Could be. When you get the DNA from both back we will know, won't we?”
“That's what I said,” Tim added.
Hunter glowered at him.
“You know Boss,” Tim went on, “I would bet money that is Mary-Ann Johnson.”
“And you would think that because?”
“She’s cleaned for my father as long as I can remember. I’ve known her all my life. If the girl in hospital does turn out to be her daughter, I wouldn't want to be Joe Johnson.”
“Well, they sent the DNA away from Coma Mum today,” Hunter said. “We’ll ask them to cross-reference and get a comparison between the two women. It will be interesting, and will at least tell us if your hunch is right, Tim.”
“It can't do any harm. Though either way, it'll still leave a lot of questions. Especially for Joe Johnson, won't it, Sir?”
“Of course. Thanks Meera. Let's go, Tim. Back to the ranch. You drive.”
As Tim left the room, Hunter turned to Meera and asked, “Do you fancy a drink this evening, to get rid of the smell of corpses out of your nostrils?”
“That is a very good idea. Shall we make it the Halfway House around 6.30?”
“See you there.”
Meera thought Hunter smiled rather more widely than was necessary, but he clearly could not help it.
***
On the drive back Tim turned to Hunter. “Was Coma Mum found right on the road?”
“Yes. On the Comiston Road, leading out of Morningside. She had been hit from the middle of the street to the far side. I can't remember exactly which street number she was at.”
“Some cars do speed up that road.”
“True.” Hunter replied. “But on the way to the big crossroads? She was just left at the side of the road. They thought she was dead at first, but found a weak pulse. Imagine leaving her there in the cold. And pregnant too. The witnesses said she flew into the air and landed, and then two women have said the car reversed over her before it sped away. As if they wanted to make sure she died. Fucking coward.”
“Why do you think she was walking on the road, Sir? She had no bag, did she? No phone?”
“No. None found, anyway. No handbag or ID either; just a flex from a music machine plugged in her ears.”
“An mp4, iPod, something like that?” Tim suggested.
“Aye, something like that,” Hunter smiled sheepishly. “The witnesses said she was just crossing the road, when the car came up behind her and took her out. The woman your father found had no ID either. Let's get back and see if anybody else has more information. Did you notice anything else to come out of any of the early statements that you have seen?”
“Not yet, Sir.”
“Typical of the Great British Public, isn't it?” Hunter smiled. Young Myerscough might be okay after all. More than that, he might even be right about the women.
They would show the pictures to Joe Johnson and see if that got a reaction from him.
Chapter Twenty-One
As Hunter and Tim left the incident room to track down Joe Johnson, they left Jane Renwick reviewing the information received from the DVLA.
Rachael walked over to Jane as she squinted at the screen.
“You okay?”
“Huh? Oh, hi. Yeah, I'm okay. I wrote down what the boss said about the 4x4 that hit Billy. He said it was a silver Land Rover and had a registration number P559 J something. The car I saw was white and had the number PS59 LLT. They are close. So I ran it through DVLA. John, do you have that report on Arjun Mansoor's car?”
“Yes, it's here.” John walked over to the women and the three of them studied the screen in front of Jane. “Is there a problem?” he asked.
“Not a problem, I just can't get the details of the car straight. The car I saw Arjun driving is
not registered to him. But he reported it stolen initially, didn't he?”
“Yes, Sarge. Colin and I saw him together.”
“Can you look at the reports and statements again, John?”
“Of course. What am I looking for?”
“Well, we know Billy was run over by a car. The boss was there.”
“Uh-huh. But he didn't get a full number, did he?”
“Sadly, no. That would be too easy!”
“You all want some coffee while you chew this over?”
“Yes, thanks, Rache. Too bad the number plate wasn't caught by Tesco's CCTV in the carpark.”
“So we know what the boss said,” John commented.
“Yes, and we know the pregnant girl was run over by the 4x4 in Comiston Road. Mrs Nosey Neighbour said there was a big white car driving away from the accident. Again, she didn't get the full number but thought it started with a P. That could make it an old car with a number that looked very similar to the registration number of the car the boss saw.”
“And similar to Arjun's. No biscuits?” John muttered, as Rachael returned with the coffees. Turning again to the case in hand, he said, “Mrs Nosey could have been mistaken.”
“Yeah. But remember, David Murray's email from the mortuary also confirms some of the injuries on the golf course body could have been caused by a car.”
“And we know Arjun's car was damaged,” John said, sipping his coffee.
“I don't believe his explanation for how that happened. But what could his motive be? We haven’t found any connection between him and the Johnsons. I was assuming Mansoor's car had been used, probably not by him but when he was on holiday. Something just doesn't fit. The details are inconsistent.” Jane sighed. “Shit. Life is never simple.”
“Nor is death, it seems,” Hamilton added.
“It took you this long to get to this point?” Rachael smiled and went back to her desk.
“Rache, could you and Bear check the registration numbers and partials against the DVLA records?” Jane said. “Keep me posted on anything interesting you find.”
