Don't Wake Up: A dark, terrifying new thriller with the most gripping first chapter you will ever read!

by Liz Lawler

  She gulped for breath and her eyes opened wide, trying to feel safe again. Richard Sickert moved forward in his chair as if to console her. She put a hand up to ward him off. ‘I’m all right. I just need a moment.’

  ‘Do you want a glass of water?’ he asked.

  She shook her head. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Do you want to carry on?’

  ‘Yes. There’s not much more to tell. I managed to grab a boot and I started hitting him blindly on his legs. I must have hit him hard because the next thing he was off me and I was able to turn round. He was bent forward, his trousers undone, his penis exposed. I shouted at him, told him I’d report him. That he wouldn’t get away with it. And he . . . he laughed. He said nobody would believe me. They all knew why I’d brought him into that room. They all knew I fancied him. He said, “Let’s be honest, Alex, you’ve been gagging for it all week. Who do you think they’ll believe?” ’

  For the third time that day her face was wet.

  Richard Sickert handed her some tissues and she was reminded of the time that Greg Turner had done the same. Her life lately seemed to revolve around people handing her tissues.

  The psychoanalyst went and made some more tea while she composed herself, and when he returned, he sat with her quietly for a long time before he eventually said, ‘Did you report him?’

  She shook her head. ‘I couldn’t. I was afraid that I wouldn’t be believed. Do you think it’s only in my mind, what has happened to me recently?’

  He gave a small shrug. ‘It’s possible. This could be your way of dealing with what happened to you last year. I can’t tell you if the attack in the car park was real. What I can tell you is that you need to deal with last year. A man nearly raped you and you walked away from that situation feeling that no one would believe you.’

  He hesitated, and she could see indecision in his eyes.

  ‘I think you should report this to the police,’ he said finally.

  *

  Her eyelids were stinging and swollen from the salty tears and her face was tender. Maggie gave her a cold flannel to soothe herself and Alex cooled her tender skin. She then took a gulp of wine and felt herself begin to calm. She was exhausted, but also strangely at peace.

  ‘So I was right? You did suffer a trauma in your past?’ Maggie’s voice intruded softly.

  Alex nodded. ‘You know everything now.’

  ‘Richard Sickert’s right, Alex. You do need to report him to the police.’

  Alex’s knees rose up as she tried to curl into a ball and ignore her friend’s advice.

  ‘They won’t believe me, Maggie,’ she cried crossly. ‘Not unless I can get him to admit it.’

  ‘So, let’s do that.’

  Alex looked at her confused.

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Get him to admit it. I’ll help you,’ Maggie said determinedly. ‘Confront this man, Alex, and then this will be over.’

  *

  Laura Best disconnected the call and put away her mobile with a satisfied smile. It was a good start to the day. She had taken the right approach by giving sympathy first, and now she was going to get a result. A meeting place and time had been set up, and by the afternoon she would know what had happened to Dr Taylor last year.

  Convinced that it was going to show the doctor in a bad light, she was already planning what to do with the information. By tonight she expected the doctor’s car to be impounded and the woman to be brought into the station for questioning.

  Greg Turner could then apologise for his less than supportive behaviour and hopefully this apology would take place in front of officers more senior than him.

  In the meantime she wanted to check the CCTV at petrol stations that had car washes and find the one Alex Taylor had used. She would drive the route from Bath to Cribbs Causeway in Bristol, where Taylor said she had shopped, and hopefully find not only the petrol station, but also get the time she was there.

  The plus side to this fishing expedition was that there were only three shopping days left until Christmas and Laura had yet to buy a single thing for her family and friends. She could kill two birds with one stone by spending the rest of the afternoon this way.

  ‘Planning who to bed next?’ Dennis Morgan whispered bitterly in her ear. His eyes were reproachful when she turned to face him.

  ‘Hello, Dennis. I was just thinking about you,’ she lied sweetly.

  She could see he was not drawn in by the lie, see the disdain in his eyes as he walked away.

  Maybe she should just try being honest.

  ‘Dennis,’ she called, and he turned around. ‘I can’t help it. As soon as I feel myself getting close to someone I strike out and hurt them. It stops me getting hurt first.’

  His shoulders were less rigid, his arms unfolding. ‘I would never hurt you. You’re the first woman in ages that I’ve really liked. I don’t sleep around, Laura. I never have.’

  ‘I know that, Dennis,’ she said softly.

  His manner softened.

  ‘Do you think we could go out sometime? Maybe go to the cinema like a proper date or something?’ he asked.

  She nodded. ‘I’d like that.’ Then she smiled at him. ‘You can say no, and I’ll understand if you’re busy, but would you like to come and check out some car washes with me? Then maybe later we could cook dinner together or something?’

  ‘I can’t, Laura. DI Turner is sending me to the hospital.’

  At the mention of the hospital, Laura sat up straight, her senses on alert. ‘Why?’ she asked bluntly.

  He shrugged. ‘No one else available.’

  ‘I mean,’ she said, trying to stay patient, ‘what are you being sent to the hospital for?’

  ‘Oh,’ he laughed. ‘Not a lot. Just to take some statement from a doctor who’s been involved in an RTA You can come with me if you want.’

  Laura needed no further bidding.

  Chapter thirty-four

  Alex kept her eyes off the clock as she walked across the department, calling out a ‘sorry’ to the coordinator for being late. That had not been part of the plan. She was determined that she was no longer going to be thought of as the one who had ‘lost it’, and had woken for the first time in ages with a plan to regain control of her life. But here she was, twenty minutes late, without good reason, aside from having taken another blue tablet in the middle of the night. She should have resisted and just come into work tired instead, been more determined and remembered she was no longer alone. She had Maggie’s support, and together they would track down this actor and confront him. In the meantime, Alex just needed to stay focused on each day and be good at her job.

  ‘You’re here,’ Nathan said bluntly as she walked into the doctors’ station.

  ‘Sorry, I’ll make up for it. What have we got?’

  ‘A situation,’ he said. ‘Three about to breach if we don’t admit or discharge.’ ‘About to breach’ was a commonly used phrase in emergency departments. It meant patients were coming up to the maximum four-hour target time of when they were meant to have been seen, admitted or discharged. ‘And Dr Cowan has also just been brought in.’

  ‘With what?’ she asked anxiously.

  ‘Whiplash injury. We’ll see her first.’

  ‘Do you think we should separate? You can’t shadow me with this much work to do. I’ll see Caroline and leave you to make a start with the others. It’ll be quicker.’

  He hesitated and she raised her chin. ‘It makes sense, Nathan, and I’m perfectly capable of examining a priority three patient. After all, Dr Cowan is hardly likely to let me misdiagnose her, is she?’

  Caroline looked totally vulnerable as she sat with her knees drawn up, a hospital blanket up to her chin, on the examination trolley. Her round pale face was drained of vitality.

  It was a shock to see her so badly shaken. She had a bump on her forehead from hitting the steering wheel, and pain in her neck from whiplash. In her present state she was unrecognisable as the consultan
t who ran this very busy department.

  The police were waiting to talk to her, but Alex insisted on making sure she was fit enough first. From what she could ascertain, the accident was a low-speed rear-end car shunt. Caroline’s car was stationary, waiting to move out onto a main road. She hadn’t lost consciousness, but was dazed; it was the fear of what could have happened that had altered her appearance.

  If the car behind had shunted harder, Caroline’s Nissan would have gone straight into the path of an oncoming juggernaut.

  Alex examined her thoroughly and confirmed the absence of a spinal injury. Completing her final examination, she pocketed her pen torch. Then she reached for the switch on the wall and turned the main overhead light back on. She was satisfied with Caroline’s Glasgow Coma score and pupillary reaction. She perched on the edge of the mattress and gently rubbed the back of one of Caroline’s hands.

  ‘Everything seems to be fine. I’ll sort some analgesic and get you some tea. Are you up to talking to the police?’

  Caroline went to nod and then winced. She rested her head gingerly against the pillow. ‘I didn’t see anything, Alex. It was so quick. There was nothing behind me. I was looking left and right getting ready to pull out when I heard a bang and felt the car move violently. I shot forward, banged my head, and when I looked in the mirror there was no car behind me. The road behind was completely deserted. The driver nearly killed me and then drove off.’

  ‘Unbelievable that someone could just drive off like that?’

  Caroline blinked as her eyes watered. ‘I know!’ She used the bed sheet to wipe them. ‘Christ, so many bad things seem to be happening lately. First you end up in a bed in here. Now me! Who’s next?’

  Alex felt herself stiffen, while her mind leapt to a number of possibilities. Could it be the same man targeting them both? Was he coming after Caroline because of her? Was he hurting people she knew?

  ‘Caroline, do you think this could have anything to do with me?’

  ‘What?’ Caroline’s tone was sharp, her eyes round with disbelief. ‘Just . . . don’t!’

  Then in a weary voice she said, ‘Get someone to bring me in some painkillers.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘I can’t talk with this pain,’ Caroline said firmly. Then, with a look in her eyes, ‘I can’t talk to you, Alex.’

  A half hour later Alex saw Laura Best and a police constable come out from the curtained cubicle. Leaving her place at the desk, she made her way towards it.

  Laura Best stepped in her way. ‘Leave her be, Dr Taylor. She just wants to rest until her husband picks her up.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  Laura Best’s voice was firm. ‘She doesn’t want to be disturbed.’

  Alex felt her cheeks flush and she stared at the policewoman resentfully. ‘Do you mind? Dr Cowan is my patient! I need to see her before I can discharge her.’

  ‘Dr Bell has already done it,’ Laura Best said patiently.

  Alex stared through the glass window into the doctors’ office. Nathan was in the office studying an X-ray. She wanted to go and ask what was going on, but he had seemed remote all day, unapproachable. She so regretted asking him out. He had gone back to treating her like a work colleague – worse, a nuisance colleague – and she missed his friendship.

  Retreating to her seat to carry on reading a patient’s notes, she felt Laura Best’s eyes follow her. The message couldn’t have been clearer. Stay away from her. She doesn’t want to see you.

  *

  Laura sighed with relief when the call ended. Her irate caller was not pleased to have been stood up, and Laura had to promise not to be late or miss the new appointment later. In the wake of seeing Dr Cowan, she had forgotten all about the meeting. She and Dennis had spent the rest of the day trying to find the driver that had gone into the back of Dr Cowan’s car. She would not miss this second appointment. This meeting could be important, especially now that Alex Taylor was becoming worrisome.

  Her behaviour this morning only confirmed Laura’s belief that Alex Taylor had a mental illness. Her concern was that she was still allowed to practice. But not for much longer, Laura imagined. She was on a slippery slope, and she was going to fall very soon.

  Laura would make sure she got away in good time to be at the rescheduled meeting. She would text Dennis to cancel their date. While she was pleased that they were back on a friendly footing, a date was not a good enough a reason for missing it again. She needed to focus on her job.

  She had a few hours spare before the meeting and would spend the time going through the Amy Abbott case files. She would check on anything that may have been missed; any leads that weren’t followed up that might have told them her whereabouts while she was missing. Wherever that induced abortion had taken place there would be blood. A lot of it. Amy Abbott had almost exsanguinated before arriving in the emergency department.

  It wasn’t a murder investigation or even a missing person enquiry any more. Amy Abbott was dead and buried, and to all intents and purposes the case was closed. Greg would tell her she was time-wasting and that she should focus on the Lillian Armstrong case, but Laura hated loose ends and she couldn’t let go of the fact that it was Alex Taylor who had reported the death as suspicious. The post-mortem findings didn’t support this – death by misadventure was the coroner’s verdict. If it was murder it would be difficult to prove. Alex Taylor was certainly clever enough to murder someone and walk away free.

  She was in Barbados when Amy Abbott went missing, but supposing she knew Amy Abbott from before, knew she was pregnant and in a depressed state. Alex Taylor may have given her refuge, let her use her flat while she was away and then returned home and set about causing her death. Amy Abbott was found five days after she went missing, but she died on the night after Taylor returned home from her holiday. Now all Laura had to do was find a connection between the two women. If she could prove Alex Taylor knew the dead nurse, then she would have reason to ask that the case be reopened.

  Laura felt excited at the prospect. This could be her ticket to promotion – her path to a new life.

  Chapter thirty-five

  She saw the slim cardboard box leaning against her front door as she stepped out of the lift and set down her grocery bags. A scrap of blue paper was taped to the box and Alex saw a message had been left by her next door neighbour: ‘Came this afternoon, so I signed for it. Hope that’s OK. Trevor.’

  She picked up the box and brought it into her apartment. She checked her mailbox and saw Christmas card envelopes. It was nearly Christmas and she still hadn’t even sent hers. She had done very little to prepare for the event, except to buy presents, which were still to be wrapped. She had no Christmas tree up and no special drinks or treats bought. Her home looked like it did on any normal day of the week – the leather sofas, glass coffee table and clutter-free floor. There was not even a photograph of her family in the living room to personalise the place. Patrick had said that the framed photographs she had of them needed changing, as they were too old-fashioned. She now realised how wrong he had been; you couldn’t create a home simply with furnishings – it needed to be loved and lived in, otherwise coldness crept into the corners.

  Now she was alone. All she had was her work and an empty flat to come home to, but even that was compromised. Since this morning, the atmosphere at work had been thick with unspoken words. Everyone seemed to be avoiding her. Fiona seemed to be ever so busy whenever Alex tried to talk to her. Nathan barely spoke to her, unless it was about a patient. Everyone was wary of her. Things were going from bad to worse, and her boss was probably contemplating another meeting, only this time a formal one. She should never have said what she did to Caroline. She should have kept her own counsel, but lately all her actions seemed to be impulsive and, in the eyes of others, irrational. Caroline’s accident probably had nothing to do with her situation, and now, in her boss’s eyes, she appeared even more of a lunatic.

  Inside the box, bubble wrap
covered a framed picture. She could feel glass and see colours beneath the plastic. A description to go with the painting had been sent by the gallery, but no note from the sender. She unwrapped the picture and saw an image of a naked woman lying on a bed. The wall behind her was a bright, almost seaside blue. Her face was hidden from view by her arm as she reached out to the retreating figure. Alex loved it and guessed who it was from. She quickly opened her mail and found a Christmas card from Maggie. Her friend hadn’t signed it, but she knew the thoughtful message was from her:

  ‘Hope you like it. While I appreciate other versions of this painting, I think in this one Euan Uglow brings the lovely lady into modern times. Remember, Alex, not all men are bastards.’

  Alex was astonished by Maggie’s thoughtfulness and generosity, and felt a little overwhelmed. Someone liked her. She was not entirely alone.

  The knock on her front door startled her. Still wearing her coat and expecting her caller to be her neighbour making sure she got the parcel, she opened the door.

  Nathan Bell was standing there, holding a tissue-wrapped bottle of wine. He held it up. ‘A small Christmas gift,’ he said in a reticent tone, looking awkward, as if unsure whether he was welcome.

  ‘Come in,’ she said, utterly amazed that he had called on her, that he even knew where she lived.

  ‘I got your address off Fiona – she said you wouldn’t mind.’

  ‘I don’t. How is she? She seemed to be too busy to talk to me at work.’