He wished she was, Blair thought as he examined her neck with gentle hands. If he’d arrived at the apartment any later, he could have lost her.
The brutal finger marks were there as a sombre reminder of her ordeal and Imogen’s voice was hoarse and strained, but her larynx and vocal cords seemed to be uninjured.
When he’d finished checking her over, he said soberly, ‘I should never have let you get involved with what was my call-out. I think that you should drop the police surgeon work for the next few months as we both know that it brings us into touch with some seedy characters.’
Imogen didn’t answer but he sensed that she wouldn’t easily agree to that suggestion so, changing the subject, he asked, ‘Was it something to do with that man when you were shuddering in the park?’
‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘I felt as if he was watching me.’
‘And so why didn’t you say so when I asked you what was wrong?’
‘I don’t know. I thought I might be imagining it.’
‘Well, you weren’t imagining what came afterwards, were you?’
‘No, I wasn’t,’ she said bleakly. ‘I was sure it was you at the door when I opened it. So sure that I didn’t check first. I could have paid for it with my life if you hadn’t arrived.’
‘I saw him following you and decided that I’d better keep an eye on him.’
‘So you weren’t coming here in any case?’
‘Well, no. I said I had an appointment if you remember.’
So much for her conceit, she thought. But did it matter? He had been there when she’d needed him and that was the important thing.
But Blair always seemed to be there when she needed him, and yet what had she ever done for him? Nothing. Except cause him aggravation. He must see her as a perpetual millstone around his neck.
He was watching the changing expressions on Imogen’s face and said gently, ‘Go on. Let’s hear it.’
‘Hear what?’
‘Something is going on in your head. I can tell.’
‘I’m thinking that I’m always causing you grief.’
He laughed.
‘Yes, you are. My life was peaceful before you came along.’
‘And is that how you want it to be again?’
‘Not necessarily.’
‘I am trying to keep out of your way.’
‘And I out of yours,’ he said in the same even tone. ‘Though it’s as if that isn’t meant to be. But enough of theorising. You’ve just come through a dreadful ordeal and I’m taking you back to my place for the night. I know that crazy man is in custody but I want to keep an eye on you…and the baby.’
‘But you haven’t got room,’ she protested.
‘No problem. I’ll sleep on the couch.’ Taking her arm, he led her out into the hallway and informed a couple of curious neighbours who were hovering, ‘Dr Rossiter will be away for the night.’
CHAPTER SIX
BLAIR awoke in the early hours and found Simon standing by the couch.
‘What’s Imogen Rossiter doing, sleeping in your bed?’ he asked curiously, and Blair gave a wintry smile.
‘Well, she’s certainly not Goldilocks with that dark mop. We’ve had quite a night. I thought you might have heard what happened in the park earlier.’
Simon shook his head.
‘No. What?’
‘Two teenagers were found murdered. I was called out to the first one and the second corpse was discovered while I was there. Imogen was passing by and stopped to assist. Incredibly the fellow who’d killed the youngsters was still loitering and he followed her home and attacked her, too.
‘I got there in the nick of time and now that’s where he is…in the nick. Imogen was shaken up, as you can imagine, and I brought her back here so that I could keep an eye on her.’
Simon whistled softly.
‘Gee! All that’s been happening while I’ve been standing over a hot stove!’
Their voices had aroused Imogen from a fitful sleep and the moment she surfaced the soreness of her neck and throat were there to remind her that not so long ago she’d thought she was going to die.
As she padded downstairs to the kitchen to find herself a drink, the baby inside her moved and she became still. She wanted to go to Blair and place his hand on her stomach so that he could share in the magical moment. But, she asked herself achingly, would it mean anything to him if she did? After all, it wasn’t his child inside there.
The next day was Saturday and it was Imogen’s turn to take the short morning surgery that was forerunner to the weekend. But when she came down to breakfast Blair was already up and dressed.
When she eyed him questioningly he said, ‘Needless to say, you won’t be on duty at the practice today, Imogen. I’ll do it and when I get back I’ll run you home.
‘And so how are you this morning?’ he asked as she poured herself a coffee.
‘Glad to be alive, which is more than those two poor youngsters can say.’
He nodded sombrely.
‘Indeed. I can’t get the picture of that fellow with his hands round your throat out of my mind. Thankfully he won’t be seeing the outside of prison for a long time to come. If that were not the case I wouldn’t have a moment’s peace of mind every time you were out of my sight.’
Suddenly she was filled with a desperate longing to know just how deep his concern for her went and, without giving herself time to reconsider, she asked, ‘Is that how you would feel about anyone who’d had that kind of experience? Or do I matter more?’
Huddled in one of his robes, with her hair tousled from sleep and her neck covered in bruises, it was hardly the moment for heart-searching or romantic dallying, but she had to ask.
Blair smiled, a teasing kind of smile that told her she wasn’t going to get a satisfactory answer.
‘You have to matter more, don’t you?’ he said easily. ‘We’re both doctors, both police surgeons. Wherever I go, whatever I do, I find myself entangled with you in some form or other. So, yes…I’d say that you do invade my consciousness more than most people.’
She glared at him.
‘In other words, we’re back to the nuisance factor, but you’re trying to be polite about it.’
He was laughing now.
‘If the cap fits, yes,’ he said, and added as he turned to go, ‘Simon won’t be surfacing for hours. It was four a.m. when he came in. I’ve cooked you some breakfast. It’s in the oven on a low setting. Make sure that you eat it. That child of yours needs looking after. It must be wondering what sort of a world it’s coming into.’
‘And what sort of a mother it’s going to be saddled with?’ she questioned defensively.
Blair wasn’t laughing now. His face had a closed-up look.
‘I don’t think it need have any worries on that score,’ he said abruptly, and made his departure.
The receptionist on duty at the Saturday morning surgery buttonholed him as soon as he walked in.
‘The chief constable is waiting for you,’ she said, pointing to his consulting room. ‘I’ve settled him in there and made him a cup of tea.’
Blair nodded. He could make a guess what this was about—last night. He was right. Brian Rossiter got to his feet when he saw him and asked brusquely. ‘Where is Imogen? I’ve been to her place but there’s no sign of her. I know what happened in the park last night and back at her apartment, and I want to see for myself that she’s all right.’
‘I took her home with me for the night,’ Blair told him. ‘She was very shaken up and I was concerned for her and the baby. Her throat is bruised and sore and her voice rather croaky, but apart from that she seems all right. Needless to say, I’ll be keeping a close watch on her.’
Brian sighed.
‘You’ll be a better man than I am if you can do that. So what’s your address? I’ll go round there as I won’t be happy until I’ve seen her for myself.’ The older man held Blair’s gaze. ‘I could have lost my daughter and my grandchild i
f you hadn’t got there in time. It’s a sobering thought.
‘Imogen is fortunate to have you looking out for her and just between the two of us, I would have been damned glad if you had been the father of this child of hers. I don’t know what your feelings are on the matter, but you must have some or you wouldn’t have been ready to stand in for the other fellow.’
Just as Blair was beginning to think that maybe the old tartar wasn’t so bad after all, Brian reverted back to form.
‘But I hope you’re aware that though that daughter of mine is a pretty young filly, she needs to be kept on a firm rein or she’ll kick over the traces.’
‘So Imogen’s not a chip off the old block, then?’ Blair asked blandly.
For a moment Brian looked taken aback and then, clearing his throat, said. ‘Er…no. Certainly not.’ As if he’d said enough on that subject, he went on to inform Blair, ‘Someone from the division will be coming round to question her and take a statement. But I’ve given instructions that they don’t approach her until I give permission.’
They could hear voices in the waiting room and, taking it as his cue to leave, the chief constable bade Blair a brief farewell and went to seek out his daughter.
Emily Bradshaw was an elderly lady who came to consult Blair periodically about the aches and pains of old age. She also had diabetes, which he and the practice nurses kept a close watch on. Today she had presented herself at the surgery because of a scare with her eyes the previous night.
‘I suppose it’s the optician I should be talking to,’ she said, puffing heavily as she seated herself opposite him, ‘but mine has just changed hands and I’d rather see somebody who knows about my complaints.’
‘So what’s the problem, Emily?’ he asked when she’d got her breath back.
‘It was last night, Doctor. I was in the garden, chatting to my neighbour, when I got this flashing yellow light in front of my right eye. At first I thought it was an insect buzzing about in front of me and then I realised it was my eye. Something had happened to it. I didn’t sleep all night for wondering if it was the retina that had slipped. That happened to my brother and because he didn’t get it seen to right away he lost the sight of the eye.’
She was in her late eighties but he thought there was nothing wrong with her thinking processes. It could very well be that it was the retina at risk, but an optician would have been the best person to consult because they were better equipped for that sort of thing.
His ophthalmoscope showed little out of the ordinary when he examined the eye but, aware that people with her condition could be subject to vitreous haemorrhages due to diabetic retinopathy, he felt that she should see an ophthalmic consultant with all haste.
The condition arose from the forming of new fragile blood capillaries attaching themselves to the retina. Inclined to bleed easily, they would temporarily affect vision, but in most cases the vitreous haemorrhage that they’d caused would be reabsorbed and the transparent eye gel restored. But, and it was an important ‘but’, there was always the possibility that the retina might have become detached due to the impact of the haemorrhage.
‘I’m going to arrange for an ambulance to take you to hospital, Emily,’ he told her. ‘I know that it’s the weekend but they do have an eye clinic on Saturday mornings. There are a few things that it could be and they’re not so serious as a detached retina, but we have to be on the safe side. So just sit tight and I’ll ask the receptionist to phone the emergency services.’
When he came back from organising the ambulance the old lady was looking apprehensive so he said soothingly, ‘Now, don’t worry. They’ll take good care of you and will take you back home afterwards.’
‘It’s not that I’m worried about,’ she told him. ‘I’ve left a casserole in the oven.’
Blair hid a smile. Running true to type, her anxieties had switched from retina to casserole.
‘Can we ring your neighbour and ask her to keep an eye on it for you?’ he suggested.
Emily shook her head.
‘No. We don’t get on. It will be done by twelve o’clock and by the time I get back from the hospital it will be all dried up. I know what those places are like. I could be there for hours. They might even keep me in.’
‘Where do you keep a spare key?’
‘Under the plant pot by the back door.’
‘Right. So I’ll go and switch the oven off for you at twelve o’clock. I pass your place on my way home.’
Her face brightened.
‘That’s good of you, Doctor. And while you’re there, the cat will want feeding. I’m expecting a parcel, too. I hope they won’t have left it outside my front door…And the milkman calls for his money around lunchtime on a Saturday. If you see him, tell him I’ll pay him on Monday.’
‘I’ll take the parcel inside if it’s there, Emily,’ he told her with the feeling that he’d just bitten off more than he could chew. ‘And I’ll keep an eye open for the milkman. Tell me, what does your cat have for his dinner?’
‘It’s a her,’ she told him. ‘Her name’s Tabitha and there’s milk in the fridge and a tin of cat food on the shelf.’
‘And the tin-opener?’
‘In the knife-and-fork drawer where you would expect it to be,’ she said sharply, as if he were from another planet.
‘Fine,’ he said smoothly. ‘Only sometimes things aren’t always where we expect them to be, are they?’
‘They are in my house. A place for everything and everything in its place.’
While the practice nurse and the receptionist were helping Emily into the ambulance, Blair was getting ready to finish for the day. He was anxious to get back to Imogen, even though she’d seemed all right when he’d left her.
The events of the night before had shaken him to the core. Yet who knew better than he that health problems and crime were two things that walked hand in hand with distress and danger. If he and Imogen had chosen to include the latter as part of their chosen careers, taking risks was going to be the name of the game.
There’d been just a smattering of patients in the waiting room when he’d arrived and apart from Emily most of them had been there for only minor ailments, but as he was on the point of leaving a mother came in with a young boy who was looking decidedly green around the gills.
‘Lee has fallen off his skateboard and hurt his arm, Doctor,’ she said anxiously. ‘He’s been vomiting on the way here. Says the pain is making him feel sick, and he almost fainted as we were getting out of the car.’
The lad was obviously in a lot of pain and as Blair examined his arm he said, ‘Tell me how you fell, Lee.’
‘I was coming down this ramp and lost control. I put my hand out to try and stop myself falling and landed on it,’ he muttered awkwardly. ‘I felt a pain in my elbow like a knife going in.’
Blair nodded and, turning to his mother, said, ‘That’s what I thought. Very often when a person, particularly a child, falls onto an outstretched hand it results in fractures of the lower end of the humerus, the upper arm bone where it joins the elbow.’
‘Fractures! More than one?’ she questioned.
‘It’s possible, but only an X-ray will tell us that. You’re going to have to take Lee to Accident and Emergency, I’m afraid. The vomiting and faintness are due to the pain and shock. Keep him warm and quiet, without anything to eat or drink until you get there, in case they have to operate.’
With a smile for the boy he said, ‘You’ve no idea how many lads of your age break their bones from skateboarding, but I suppose it’s no use suggesting that you give it up.’
As Lee shook his head his mother said grimly, ‘We’ll have to see what your father says about that, young man. But we’ve more important things to worry about at the moment. Let’s get you to hospital.’
When they’d gone Blair said to the nurse and receptionist who’d been assisting, ‘Let’s go before anyone else collars us.’ As they had no objections to that, within minutes he was loc
king the outer door and pointing himself towards home, calculating that he would have just enough time to collect Imogen before going to do the chores at Emily’s house.
‘I feel a fraud, sitting around here while you’re doing all the work,’ Imogen said when he got back.
Blair smiled. She’d been on his mind since the moment of leaving the house, even though he’d known she was safe enough at his place.
‘Don’t worry about that,’ he told her. ‘Has your father been to see you? He was waiting at the surgery when I got there, all steamed up and anxious because he’d been to your apartment and you weren’t there.’
‘Yes, he’s been,’ she said wryly. ‘He said that I should have let you marry me when you wanted to. That you would have kept me out of mischief. He was just like he always is. As soon as he’d satisfied himself I was all in one piece, it was back to the old gripes.’
‘As to me keeping you out of mischief, last night’s affair was a lot more than that,’ Blair told her. ‘I wouldn’t like to think of you in that kind of danger ever again. So, as I’ve already suggested, I think that for the time being you should opt out of police surgeon activities.’
‘I’m doing no such thing!’ she protested. ‘Last night was a one-off and I’m tired of being told what to do. First my dad and then you.’
She’d told him what her father had said about their proposed marriage because she was desperate to know whether he regretted it or was relieved that it hadn’t taken place. But it seemed that he had no comment to make and, short of asking him outright, it looked as if she wasn’t going to get to know his feelings on the matter.
Her own were crystal clear. She wanted Blair in her life more than she’d ever wanted anything. But not as a substitute husband or father. She wanted him loving her, lusting for her. But the first move had to come from him as she was the one with the baggage…the unborn child curled beneath her ribs.
And that was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? She was pregnant with someone else’s child, for heaven’s sake. What was he supposed to do?
The Pregnant Police Surgeon Page 9
