Dead Blind

by Rebecca Bradley

  ‘We have to go on a hospital-by-hospital basis, guv, because with the transplant list, they leave the responsibility to the patient to make sure all records are kept up to date, but with dialysis being a regular occurrence, hospitals will have more up-to-date records,’ answered Paula.

  ‘And?’ he asked somewhat impatiently.

  ‘Well, so far the local hospitals haven’t found any patients who have failed to turn up for treatment. But just because the transplants happen in London doesn’t mean the patients are London-based. Anyone with the funds will travel. They could be anywhere in the country. It’s a long-winded inquiry, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Goddamnit!’ he spat out, and paced across the front of the incident room and back again. ‘So we don’t have a single patient to help us with this?’

  ‘No, sir,’ said Paula, quietly. ‘Not yet anyway. It’s a line of inquiry that will pan out, but a lead we haven’t come across yet.’

  Ray scrubbed his hand through his hair. ‘What about the garage the BMW was burnt out in? Do we know who it was registered to?’

  Elaine looked across at Tamsin before she spoke. ‘Yes, guv –’

  ‘Great! At last. Why aren’t we doing anything with this?’

  ‘We traced the owner. One guy owns the whole block of garages and lets them out. That particular garage was paid for up front in cash for a year. He can’t remember much about the person who paid as it was about eight months ago, other than to say he was an Eastern European male. We had him in to do an ID procedure to see if he could pick anyone out, and we put Rusnac in the options, but he didn’t ID anyone. It’s possible one of his associates paid for it?’

  ‘Seriously, this is where we are? I want more and I want it now. Get me something we can work with.’ And with that he left the incident room for his office. Leaving his staff with their mouths agape.

  ‘Wrong side of the bed, anyone?’ muttered Will.

  70

  He logged on to his laptop as soon as he walked in from work. It had been an awful day. The investigation felt as though it had stalled and he had taken it out on his team. He never did that. Because of his mood not one person had felt able to ask him about his face. It was unusual for them not to be able to approach him like that. His role was to keep their morale up so they could continue to move forward, and all he had succeeded in doing today had been to force them to see the failure in the job. The reality was that the failure was all his, and he needed to rectify it.

  First he closed the blinds to the world. Shut the darkness out. Grabbed a can of beer out of the fridge, which held little else other than beer. Some ready-made stuffed pasta that would take him ten minutes to heat up in a pan with some added sauce, and a block of cheese. He wasn’t good at taking care of himself. Quick and easy was how it worked with him.

  Celeste had fed him properly. She liked to throw things around the kitchen; but they had barely spoken in the last couple of weeks. Ray had been pushing her away and she’d picked up on it. She wasn’t stupid. Though she thought there was a problem with his mental health that he was hiding from her. His behaviour had been off since the accident, she had told him constantly. How close she was. But his mental health was fine. There were no cures, no medication, no therapy for what was wrong, and that was the problem. How could they continue to build on what they had when he flinched every time he looked her in the face? And how do you tell someone you don’t see them anymore? But Helen was right, it wasn’t fair to her.

  He’d sort it. He’d talk to her.

  Maybe.

  Because there was Helen. He couldn’t figure out if how he felt about her was real or if it was simply because she had been supporting him. And she had that other guy anyway. His life felt such a mess. Once they cleared up this job, he needed to clear up his head.

  When the laptop had woken up, he navigated to the Dedit site and found a message in his inbox.

  The response was short.

  They were more than prepared to help him. He needed the blood test and, at the same time as the test, Mr Bateman would meet him to explain the next steps.

  Could he provide a few dates of availability?

  Ray leaned back in his chair. He was stepping over a line now. Really stepping over. No going back. But not only did he have to get justice for Billy, for failing in his job, he now also had to take Rusnac off the street because he knew where Helen and his children lived, and he couldn’t have an individual out there who had made those threats and trust that he would keep his word about not going after them if Ray left him alone.

  He looked at the photograph on the wall of Alice and Matthew when they were smaller and he still lived at home with them, a time when they were a family. The photo showed them with their heads thrown back, giggling as sand surrounded them, after Ray had half buried them on the beach during a family holiday.

  He leaned forward to the laptop and replied that he was available as soon as possible, anytime. Showed he was desperate. Not the obvious calm of a police operation.

  A neat ding let him know there was a message in his inbox almost immediately. Someone was working the website right now. Lunch time tomorrow at Cottenham Park Road, Wimbledon. Directions were provided. A small map attached.

  Now he needed to figure out how he would play this. Rusnac knew who he was. The minute he turned up he would recognise him even if Ray didn’t know Rusnac immediately.

  Did he go in alone or did he let his colleagues know he had lied to them all along? It would end his career. He’d be up on disciplinary charges for his failure to disclose the prosopagnosia and the events that occurred after his return: the farce that was the failed ID procedure, and the failure to notify at the point of Billy’s murder that he’d been face to face with the killer. If he brought his colleagues into this rather than doing it alone, then all he had ever worked for, all he had worked for in keeping the prosopagnosia a secret – because he had managed and managed well – would all have been for nothing. But the alternative was him failing again, and that didn’t bear thinking about. His failure was what had got him into the place he was in now. His failure to disclose from the start had him in a situation where he was unable to identify a killer, and if, he finally realised, if he had disclosed and been medically retired, then the op would still have gone ahead, but it would have been someone else in the spot where he’d been concealed and it would have been someone else face to face with the killer, and that someone would have been able to ID the killer from the start.

  He really did have to resolve this.

  Ray wandered to the fridge, looked at the beer, thought again and closed the door without picking one out. Instead he collected his phone from the arm of the chair and dialled Helen.

  She sounded upbeat enough when she answered.

  ‘How are the kids?’ he asked.

  ‘Mum says they’re good. Having a blast by all accounts. Treating it like a holiday.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘Yeah, holiday as well.’

  ‘Helen.’ He wanted her to talk to him.

  ‘I’m okay. Spending most of my time wondering what you’re doing and if you’re still safe or whether you’ve had any more run-ins with out-of-control killers.’

  He laughed. How else was anyone supposed to deal with a sentence like that?

  ‘It’s not funny,’ she scolded.

  ‘I know.’ He made his tone conciliatory. ‘But you don’t have to worry. It’s quiet here. He’s going to be fine unless he thinks I’m coming after him, and so far I haven’t.’

  ‘So far?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  There was silence.

  Ray pushed the blinds apart with his spare hand and looked out of the window into the dark beyond. In the glow of the streetlights he could see that it had started to rain again. He waited for her. The silence a huge invisible barrier between them. Filled with unsaid words.

  ‘You’ll be careful.’

  ‘I’ll be careful.’

  ‘I want the children
back, Ray.’

  ‘I know how you feel,’ he said before he thought about it.

  The silence was so heavy, Ray was sure he could feel the pressure in his ear.

  ‘It’s just …’ he started.

  ‘It’s okay.’

  He said goodnight. His mind in turmoil. One thing was certain, he had to end this. One way or another. He’d do it his way, but deep down, in his gut, he knew he was going to have to throw away his career and his friendships within the job: he had spent so long deceiving people, they wouldn’t be happy. He would have to come clean about the prosopagnosia. It was the only way to bring Rusnac in. Once he identified him, by voice, it was the only way to tell the investigation team that this was their man and that he had identified him. He would have to tell them he’d been lying to them all this time. He’d put the investigation at risk, and he’d betrayed their trust.

  But if losing his career, his friendships, brought an end to the risk he had now put his family in and brought Billy’s killer down, then he’d do what was needed.

  He wanted his family back.

  71

  The run into work on the roads had been smooth and Elaine felt positively relaxed and ready for the day ahead rather than the scrabbling-to-catch-up feeling she usually started the work day with.

  The children had got out of bed without complaint. They’d eaten their breakfasts without shouting at each other and had dressed without challenging any item that had been laid out for them.

  Instead of enjoying it, she had been perturbed by the feeling. Feeling rushed, anxious and stressed were her daily norms and how she functioned. Working under any other conditions threw her off kilter.

  Tamsin laughed at her when she explained why she was so put out that morning.

  ‘You’re not happy because you feel so relaxed?’

  She slurped at her coffee, eyed Tamsin over the rim of the mug. Aware of the ridiculousness of the explanation.

  ‘And this is why I don’t have children.’ Tamsin laughed again.

  ‘Why don’t you have children?’ Will strolled up behind her.

  ‘Elaine is feeling relaxed this morning,’ Tamsin explained.

  ‘Stop the presses.’

  ‘See my point?’

  ‘I’m never having sex again if this is what happens.’ He threw on his most horrified expression.

  Tamsin tipped back her head as she laughed this time. Her curls springing out around her.

  ‘What?’ He was indignant.

  ‘From what I know of your love life, that would be difficult to believe.’

  ‘If you two have had quite enough …’ Elaine put her mug down, a smile across her face. ‘Have either of you seen the guv yet?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Strange. He’s usually in by now.’

  ‘Or at least he’s always in by the time you come dashing through the door.’ Will smirked at her.

  ‘Okay, but he is usually in, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes,’ Tamsin agreed. And as she spoke, Elaine’s phone vibrated with an alert that a message had come through. She picked it up and read the text.

  ‘It seems he has an inquiry out of the office and he won’t be in until later.’

  ‘Do we know what it is?’ asked Tamsin, opening HOLMES.

  ‘He doesn’t say.’ Elaine looked across at Tamsin. ‘Anything on the system?’

  Tamsin shook her head. ‘Looks like your kids were right.’

  Elaine was puzzled. ‘In what way?’

  ‘Today is not going to be a good day.’

  Any smile on Elaine’s face was now gone. ‘We need to locate the guv.’

  72

  The office Ray had been directed to was a temporary structure, although one that had a permanent appearance. Solid and substantial. Long, with cream walls, and windows that had a slightly darkened tint to them so you couldn’t see in. It was clean and sleek.

  The car park it stood in was a different matter. Uneven ground, with random patches of gravel thrown down as though someone had started a job but couldn’t be bothered to finish it. Ray wasn’t familiar with this part of Wimbledon but the whole set-up had a transitory feel to it. Vacant ground on a main road, now made use of.

  He turned the car engine off and waited. Around him the air was still. He was alone. No back-up. He felt his pocket for his mobile phone and was relieved when he patted the rigid patch in his jeans. He’d already saved Jain’s number, and Elaine’s, and at a push, if really needed, he had the control room in his favourites to speed up any call.

  There was a twisting in his stomach, but a determination in his head. Ray took a breath and got out of the car.

  The rain had finally stopped and the sky was bright, the air, light, warm. He could hear birds singing. Spring was breaking through. His footsteps crackled on the ground beneath him as gravel slid beneath his feet. It was an enclosed area, off the main road. The trees of Wimbledon Hill Park towered behind them.

  He’d made an attempt to change his appearance. To look like a man in desperate straits, willing to sell a body part to make ends meet. He wore the jeans that he did the decorating in and an old sweater that had worn thin at the elbows. He wasn’t even sure why he still held on to it. He’d left his hair without running a brush through it when he woke, so there were clumps sticking out at odd angles. He’d also failed to shave and a salt-and-pepper stubble grazed his chin and cheeks.

  There was something he needed to do before he went inside. He should have done it last night but he’d been thinking of Helen and it didn’t feel right. Ray pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled. Celeste picked up on the third ring.

  ‘Ray? Are you okay? You don’t normally call in the day. What’s happened?’ She sounded worried.

  ‘I’m fine. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you.’

  ‘Where are you?’ She wasn’t having it.

  ‘I’m out on a job at the minute so I haven’t got long. I wanted to call you before it got going.’

  He heard her muffled voice speak to someone where she was. A hand covered the handset, and then she was back.

  ‘You know I’m worried about you.’ A statement, not a question.

  He answered anyway. ‘I do and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I want you to know I’m going to sort this job out at work today and then we can talk. I’ll talk.’

  ‘Ray?’

  ‘It’s okay. I promise.’ He wasn’t sure but he didn’t want to scare her. He couldn’t be certain she wouldn’t walk away when he told her about the prosopagnosia, or that he even wanted her to stick around. What he did know was that she deserved his honesty. She’d deserved it from day one. ‘I’ll see you later and we’ll sort it all out.’

  There was more muffled talking. ‘Okay. I have to go, Ray. You sure you’re okay though?’

  He told her he was, and ended the call.

  With a deft rap on the door, he waited for it to be answered. He spun on the spot, taking in the desolate plot of ground he was standing in, and wondered what events would have transpired by the time he saw it again.

  A woman answered. She was dressed in a blue nurse’s uniform, sensible black loafers on her feet. Her almost totally grey hair was pinned on top of her head, with wisps escaping and falling about her face, giving her a pallid look. Bright green eyes shone out from her face though, at complete odds to the rest of her. They shone with intelligence.

  He introduced himself as Mr Gordon and she stepped aside to let him in. She moved with ease, clearly comfortable in her surroundings.

  The room was filled with a couple of sofas, a table with magazines littered haphazardly across the top, and a water cooler in the corner. She introduced herself as Lisa Adams. Said she would take a few drops of blood from him today, and then smiled. This was not a woman who Ray feared was here under any duress. What made people come and work for a man like Rusnac? Come and do such dangerous procedures as these underground transplants? Maybe Adams only t
ook the blood and didn’t know what went on after the fact.

  ‘That’s an understatement, yes?’ Ray asked.

  Lisa smiled again. ‘It’s not that bad,’ she answered, without providing an actual answer.

  He nodded, expecting as much.

  ‘Can I get you a drink, Mr Gordon? And then I’ll sit and explain what I’m going to do today.’ It was the coming conversation that would tell Ray if Adams knew how much was going on here.

  ‘Coffee, black, no sugar, thank you.’ Not that he needed caffeine right now, but he’d keep up appearances.

  The nurse drifted out of the room, leaving him alone. He was the only one here. There were no other waiting ‘patients’.

  Confidentiality.

  Keep everyone separate. Minimise the risk of information leaking out.

  He looked around, there was nothing else in the room. It was an average-looking waiting area. Nothing to be used as a weapon, by him or by Rusnac. Ray knew this would happen quickly: Rusnac would recognise him a hell of a lot faster than he would recognise Rusnac. And if Rusnac didn’t speak, then, damn, he wouldn’t recognise him at all. That was, if Mr Bateman was Rusnac, which he presumed he was. The MIT hadn’t got the impression that the organisation was that large a concern. They imagined he would do the sales pitch, the ‘you’re in safe hands’ speech, and this was where Ray wanted to find him.

  Ray pulled his phone from his pocket. Checked the battery life. It was fully loaded. He pushed it back into his jeans. Picked up a magazine.

  Country Life.

  How did every waiting room he’d ever been in have this magazine? Even the fake ones.

  Adams pushed the door into the waiting room open with her bottom, holding a steaming mug of coffee in each hand, a clipboard stacked with paper held to the side of her ribcage by an arm. Ray stood, crossed the room and took the milk-free drink from her hand. She thanked him and moved to the sofa at right-angles to the one he’d vacated.