‘What’s going on?’ It came out sharper than he’d meant it to.
‘Alex’s girlfriend has been attacked.’
‘When?’
Marni shrugged.
‘Did she know them?’
‘I don’t know. She’s not making sense.’
They walked around the bandstand. Francis didn’t speak. He pushed his hands into his pockets to prevent Marni noticing that they were shaking. But he probably needn’t have bothered – she was more concerned for the girl than about any feelings seeing her might have dredged up in him. She led him to where one of the ambulance men was carefully inserting a cannula into a vein in Tash’s arm. She was barely conscious and the paramedic, now attaching a bag of fluid to the tube, looked deeply concerned. There was a boy hovering nearby, glaring at Francis as if he were an uninvited party guest. Alex, Marni’s son. He fleetingly wondered how much the kid knew about his and Marni’s relationship.
Looking down at the injured girl, he managed to get his mind onto the job. Her face was puffy and bruised on one side, her eyelid swollen shut, dark purple under smudged make-up – she’d taken a beating from someone. He leaned over to watch the second paramedic applying a pressure bandage to an area just underneath Tash’s ribcage on the right-hand side.
‘Is it serious?’ he asked.
The paramedic glanced up and nodded. ‘It’s deep,’ he said. ‘We won’t know what damage it’s done until we get her to the hospital. But she’s lost a lot of blood.’
The paramedics had cut part of Tash’s dress away and the fabric was drenched with blood, as was her underwear.
Marni came up beside Francis.
‘Look at her hands and feet,’ she said.
Francis looked. On each hand and foot, he saw a round, bloody wound.
‘What are those?’ he said.
The medic who’d attached the plasma bag to Tash’s arm was now jotting notes on a clipboard.
‘No idea,’ he said. ‘But all four go right through.’
They weren’t defensive wounds, and they certainly weren’t accidental. Something horrific had happened to the girl and she was lucky to be alive.
‘Tash?’ said Francis, bending down so he’d be within the girl’s range of vision. ‘My name’s DI Sullivan. How are you feeling?’
She stared up at him with wide and frightened eyes. The paramedics looked on warily and Francis knew his time was limited. They needed to get her to hospital.
‘It hurts,’ she whispered.
‘Do you know who did this to you?’
‘Alex?’
For a moment Francis reeled with shock, but when she repeated herself and Alex went to her, he realised she hadn’t been answering his question at all.
‘Tash,’ he said again. ‘I need to find out who did this to you. Can you tell me anything about what happened?’
Tash Brady shook her head and started to cry.
The first paramedic stood up and looked at Francis.
‘We’ve got to go, mate. Her blood pressure’s dangerously low. I’m sure you’ll be able to talk to her later when she’s been stabilised.’
As the two men gently lifted Tash onto a stretcher trolley, Francis turned his attention to Marni’s son. At first glance, Alex appeared the same as Francis remembered him – tall and rangy like his father, and still sporting dreadlocks that reached down past his shoulders. But on closer inspection, he noticed that the boy’s features had matured. His cheeks had hollowed and he’d lost some of his fresh-faced charm. Francis couldn’t tell if the slight stubble on Alex’s chin was by design or simply because he hadn’t shaved yet that morning, but it made him look older.
‘Tell me what happened, Alex.’
The boy avoided eye contact. ‘I don’t know what happened – I wasn’t with her when she was attacked.’ His voice sounded shaky.
‘Tash called him at about six a.m.,’ said Marni.
‘Why him? Why not her parents?’
‘She has a difficult relationship with her mother,’ said Marni.
Alex scowled at her. ‘They’re away,’ he said. ‘In London.’
‘How old is she?’ said Francis.
‘Seventeen.’ Which meant calling her parents had to be a priority. He’d get Angie Burton onto that as soon as.
‘You’re going out with her, Alex?’
Alex frowned, but nodded.
‘Were you with her last night?’
‘I told you. Not when it happened.’
‘But earlier?’
‘Yes.’ His voice sounded defiant.
‘What time did you last see her?’
‘She left The Haunt at about one a.m.’
‘On her own? Or with friends?’
‘On her own,’ said Alex.
Alex shifted his weight from one foot to the other and back again. His fists were clenched in his trouser pockets. Something wasn’t right.
‘She called you when?’
Alex scowled again. ‘About six.’
‘And did she tell you what had happened during those five hours?’
‘No. She said some stuff that didn’t make sense.’ His attention was snagged by the departure of the paramedics, pushing the stretcher trolley between them. ‘Can I come with you?’ he said.
‘Sorry,’ said the first one. ‘We’re taking her to the County. You’ll be able to see her there.’
‘Mum?’
‘In a minute. But I need to show Inspector Sullivan where it happened.’
Marni took Francis by the elbow and steered him towards the café. Francis shrugged out of his jacket as they walked – he could already feel the heat of the sun on his back.
‘In here,’ she said.
Francis stood in the doorway and looked in.
‘Jesus wept.’ It was all he could do not to look away.
Blood was pooled on the floor and spattered in wide arcs on the surrounding walls. A chair was overturned, and there were handprints and a couple of bare footprints amid smears of blood leading towards the door. He noticed the shoes in the middle of the floor and wondered if they’d come off before or after the attacker had wounded her feet. He looked for signs of a struggle and saw that the glass had been smashed in the door and the lock had obviously been forced.
Someone had broken into the café, brought the girl in here, then had viciously attacked her. A frenzied attack that left her almost dead. Questions surfaced rapidly, all without answers. One person or a gang? What was the motive? Was Tash the specific target for this attack or could it have been anybody? Had she been raped? It didn’t appear to be a simple mugging – Tash had still had her phone to call for help.
It wasn’t the first gory crime scene Francis had come across, but there was something about this that was particularly sickening. Tash Brady had been literally butchered.
He needed to get out.
‘Okay. I’ll leave this for the scene-of-crime team.’
‘Are you coming to the hospital?’
‘No, I’ll send DC Burton over – it’ll be better for Tash to be questioned by a female officer. She’ll also need to take a statement from you and Alex. Any idea who might have done this, Marni?’
He turned to face her. She looked the same, if a little more careworn, hair struggling to escape an untidy plait, and her frown lines just a little more entrenched than they’d been before. He wondered what – or who – was wearing her down.
She shook her head.
‘Don’t for one minute think that Alex did this,’ she said.
The fire in her eyes was all too familiar.
‘Why would I?’ said Francis. It was an odd thing to say.
‘I hope you wouldn’t. But isn’t that what you’re trained to do? Look at the husband/boyfriend/lover first?’
Same old Marni
, always with an axe to grind when it came to the police.
‘I won’t be looking at anyone until I’ve established the facts of what happened.’
Marni cocked an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.
They’d never have made a go of it.
He led the way back round to the terrace. The paramedics had gone and Alex Mullins was standing, staring out to sea, squinting towards the sun with one hand shielding his brow.
It was time to get the team down here. Francis took the steps back up to where he’d parked his car without speaking to Marni or the boy again. But he had plenty of questions that needed answers.
And Tash’s wounds . . . He knew what they were. But why would someone see fit to inflict her with a set of stigmata – the same wounds Christ suffered on the cross?
5
Saturday, 12 August 2017
Angie
DC Angie Burton was on a mission. The boss had briefed her over the phone as she’d hurriedly shovelled down a bowl of Weetabix, standing at her kitchen counter. A woman had been attacked and brutally injured. She’d left a nightclub, The Haunt, at approximately one a.m. and had called her boyfriend for help at about six a.m. It was up to Angie to find out from her what happened during those five missing hours – and, more importantly, any indication of who’d done it.
It only took Angie three minutes to locate Natasha Brady in A&E, but she wasn’t allowed into the resuscitation cubicle where they’d taken her on admission. The doctors were working on her to stabilise her blood pressure and stop the bleeding from the deep cut in her side. Nurses hurried in and out with calm efficiency, and Angie craned her neck to see inside each time the door opened and closed.
Please don’t let her die.
‘How is she?’
The nurse who bustled out of the door looked at her disapprovingly.
‘You won’t be able to talk to her for quite a while.’
‘Of course. I absolutely understand that.’ Angie was prepared to be as diplomatic as she needed to be. But talking to Tash as soon as possible was critical, while any memories of the attack were still fresh in her mind. ‘Who’s the doctor in charge of her case?’
‘Miss Parry’s leading the trauma team.’
‘Okay – I’d like to talk to her, if that’s possible. Can you arrange that for me?’
The nurse looked distinctly put out. She clearly didn’t feel that her job description covered this.
Angie put a hand on the woman’s forearm.
‘It was a terrible attack, and we need to do all we can to find out who did it.’
The nurse let out a deep sigh. ‘I’m sure she’ll talk to you when she has a moment, but right now the patient is our number one priority.’
‘Of course.’ Angie stepped back to move out of her way, then went across to a row of chairs further down the corridor. There was nothing she could do until she’d spoken to Natasha.
First thing on a Saturday morning, A&E was relatively quiet. The sports injuries wouldn’t be in until the afternoon, the drunks not until later in the evening. She remembered from previous visits that there was a coffee machine around here somewhere. The coffee it produced was crap, but it still contained caffeine. She headed off in what she thought was the right direction. When she found the machine, the coffee tasted worse than ever, but at least it was hot. When she came back, her seat was taken – and she recognised the woman immediately.
It was Marni Mullins. Angie knew from Francis’s call that Mullins’s son Alex had been involved – presumably he was the young man, pacing the corridor in front of where his mother sat. Angie knew she’d need to talk to them about what had happened, but hadn’t expected to see them here.
‘Hello, Marni,’ she said. ‘I’m Angie Burton. Remember, we met last year.’
Marni’s eyes were hostile. ‘I remember,’ she said.
‘You’re Alex?’ said Angie, turning to the boy. With his long dreadlocks and scruffy clothes, he looked exactly how she would have imagined the son of Marni and Thierry Mullins.
He nodded and glared at her. Sullen teenager – she had his measure.
‘I understand from DI Sullivan that you were both at the scene and called the ambulance?’
‘That’s right,’ said Marni.
Angie looked them up and down. Marni seemed to be wearing a pair of pyjamas, with a faded hoody on top. She noticed for the first time that both their clothes were stained with what looked like dried blood. Natasha Brady’s blood?
‘I’ll need to take statements from both of you later on, once I’ve had a chance to talk to Natasha.’
Marni Mullins looked disappointed. Was she hoping that Francis would be the one to take her statement? Angie knew she’d been helpful in the Tattoo Thief case, but she’d never really warmed to the woman.
‘Are you DC Burton?’ said a woman’s voice behind her.
Angie turned around to see a young woman in scrubs hurrying towards her.
‘I am.’
‘I’m Tanika Parry. I’m looking after Natasha Brady.’
Out of the corner of her eye, Angie saw Marni Mullins half rising from her chair. Alex came towards them at the same time.
‘How is she?’ he said.
Tanika Parry ignored both Alex and Marni, fixing a gaze squarely at Angie.
‘You can talk to her for a minute. And there’s something I think you need to see.’
Angie followed the surgeon down the corridor and into the cubicle where they were treating Natasha Brady. She paused in the doorway. The room was just large enough for a hospital trolley and an array of medical equipment on either side. The girl in the bed looked unnaturally pale, and her face glistened with a bright sheen of sweat. Her hands were on top of the covers, both wrapped in heavy bandages. She had a drip in one arm and was wired up to a cardiac monitor.
Angie sat down on a chair by the side of the trolley.
‘Tash?’
The girl opened her eyes slowly, then glanced around the room, slightly panicking.
‘It’s okay, Tash. You’re in the hospital. You’re safe.’
On hearing Angie’s voice, Tash fixed her gaze on the policewoman’s face.
‘My name’s Angie. I’m a police officer and I need to ask you a few questions about what happened last night.’
A look of pain flitted across Tash’s features and she looked down at her hands.
‘I . . .’ She faltered and her hands clasped at the sheet. Her eyes were wide with fear now.
Angie took one of her hands, careful not to touch the bandaged area.
‘It’s okay, Tash. Just tell me anything you remember.’
‘I was with Alex,’ said the girl hesitantly. ‘We were on the beach.’
‘After you left The Haunt?’
‘The Haunt? Were we there? We were on the beach in the afternoon.’
‘Okay. I think you were at The Haunt in the evening, but you left alone.’ Francis had told her that on the phone.
Tash nodded but it was evident she had no recollection of even being at the club.
‘What happened to me?’ she said.
‘Somebody attacked you, Tash. At the bandstand on the front.’
A flicker of remembrance lit in Tash’s eyes. Her hands grasped at the sheet again.
‘Do you know who did it?’
She shook her head. ‘No . . .’
‘Do you remember anything about it?’
Tash closed her eyes.
Angie hated pushing her back into something that must have been utterly horrific.
‘A man. I couldn’t see him properly.’
‘Why couldn’t you see him, Tash?’
‘There was a light, shining right in my face.’ Her eyes darted from side to side in panic. Then she covered them with her hands and started to cry.
‘What did he do to me?’
‘You’re safe now, Tash.’
Angie stood up and turned to Tanika Parry.
‘I’ll have to come back,’ she said quietly, so Tash wouldn’t hear. ‘She’s too distressed for any more. Would it be possible to arrange for a sexual assault examination, as soon as possible?’
‘You think she might have been raped?’
Angie shrugged. ‘We’ve got to consider the possibility. I’ll also need to take her clothes for forensic examination.’ She paused. ‘You said there was something I needed to see.’
‘Yes.’ Tanika Parry came to the side of the bed. ‘Is it all right if we have another look at your back, Tash?’
Tash nodded, but her eyes looked vacant and Angie wondered if she’d really taken the question in. Tanika Parry nodded at one of the nurses and together they gently helped Tash to roll over so she was lying on her side. The nurse undid the ties at the back of her hospital gown and pushed it open to expose the girl’s back.
‘Her wounds aren’t life threatening, though they might have been if she hadn’t managed to call for help,’ said Parry. ‘The stab wound under her ribs has caused some damage to her liver, but we managed to stop the bleeding. We cleaned her up, and packed and dressed her hands and feet. On all four extremities, the wounds went right the way through.’
Angie stepped forward, wondering what they wanted her to see. The nurse peeled back a strip of gauze held in place by medical tape. Angie caught her breath sharply as she got a clear view of Tash’s back.
Across her shoulder blades were three lines of ornate gothic script – a very fresh and very bloody tattoo. Angie read the words out loud but she didn’t have a clue what they meant.
Clavos pedum, plagas duras,
et tam graves impressuras
circumplector cum affectu
‘Who did this?’ she said.
Tanika Parry carefully replaced the dressing.
‘That’s your part of the job, isn’t it?’
6
Saturday, 12 August 2017
Francis
Francis stared down at the tattoo on Tash Brady’s back. Three lines of Latin verse. He didn’t know what they meant, but for some reason they seemed familiar.
Her Last Breath: The new crime thriller from the international bestseller (Sullivan and Mullins) Page 3
