Police Doctor

by Laura MacDonald

  ‘To an old chalk quarry,’ he replied. ‘It’s about five miles out of town up towards Langstone Ridge. It’s pretty rough terrain up there.’

  ‘Do we know what it’s all about?’

  He nodded. ‘The police have recovered a body.’ He said it in the same matter-of-fact tone he might have used if he’d been asked to comment on the weather.

  ‘Oh.’ She threw him a startled glance. Somehow it was the last thing she’d expected to hear.

  ‘I am needed to certify the death.’

  ‘I see.’ She fell silent, reflecting on what he had just said. After a while she said, ‘Do you think this could be anything to do with the missing girl that has been on the news in the last few days?’

  ‘It’s possible,’ Casey replied. ‘But one of the things that I’ve learnt in this business is never to jump to conclusions.’

  They travelled in silence for some distance then as if he, too, was attempting to change the subject, he said, ‘Have you heard about Edward’s and Celia’s dinner party?’

  ‘Yes,’ Adele dragged her mind from missing girls and bodies being found in chalk quarries. ‘Celia phoned last night and invited me. She said it was by way of a welcome to me.’

  Casey gave a sound, which could have been a grunt.

  ‘Will you go?’ she asked him curiously.

  ‘Dinner parties are definitely not my cup of tea but I guess on this occasion I will have to make an exception.’

  ‘Do you think all the staff will be there?’

  ‘I shouldn’t think so—just the partners and their spouses, I would imagine, and possibly Rachel and her husband.’

  ‘I see.’ Adele wondered if that included Penny because, although not a spouse, at staff social events she well could be included as Casey’s partner. She could have asked him, she supposed, but found she didn’t want to. Turning her head, she gazed out of the window. The sky was darkening, with rain clouds rolling in from the west and a light drizzle already beginning to mist the windscreen. She wished she’d had the sense to check the weather and to take a rain jacket instead of rushing headlong from the flat. They had left the town far behind now. Travelling in the opposite direction from the Bowscombe Estate, they seemed to be climbing steadily through a thickly wooded area where the closeness of the trees made the afternoon light appear darker than it already was.

  ‘This is a pretty isolated area up here,’ observed Casey as they emerged from the trees. ‘In the summer it can be quite spectacular with a chance to see plenty of wildlife, but on a day like this it’s grim to say the least.’ As if to reinforce his words, great gusts of rain began driving across the vast open area of scrubland, obscuring their vision and making driving conditions hazardous.

  ‘The quarries are somewhere over there.’ Casey narrowed his eyes and peered across to their left where amidst a mass of rocks and bushes a flashing blue light could be seen. ‘Yes, this is it. There are the police. Hold tight, this could get bumpy.’ Leaving the road, they drove across the rough, rocky ground and as they entered the bushes a policeman appeared in front of the vehicle indicating for them to stop.

  Casey wound down the window and the rain lashed through the opening, spraying both him and Adele.

  ‘Hello, Casey.’ The officer nodded. ‘I thought that was you.’

  ‘Julian.’ Casey nodded in reply. ‘Who’s in charge?’

  ‘Detective Inspector Daniels,’ the officer replied, peering past Casey at Adele.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Casey said. ‘This is Dr Brooks, my trainee.’

  ‘Right. I’ll take you down there. You’d better walk from here. It’s very rough going.’

  Casey turned to Adele. ‘Have you got a coat?’ he asked.

  ‘No.’ She was almost ashamed to admit that she had been foolish enough not to come prepared for any eventuality. Anticipating his disdain, she added, ‘It doesn’t matter—I’ll just get wet.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he snapped. ‘You’ll catch your death. Here, take this.’ Leaning back, he retrieved his waxed jacket from the rear of the vehicle and tossed it to her.

  ‘But what about you?’ she asked helplessly.

  ‘There’s an old oilskin there—I’ll use that,’ he muttered. ‘What have you got on your feet?’

  Fortunately she had pulled on a pair of boots before leaving the flat so was able to say, ‘It’s OK, I’m wearing boots.’

  He made a noise that could have been a grunt of approval and when she jumped down from the vehicle she saw that he, too, was wearing stout leather walking boots. The rain hit them immediately, taking Adele’s breath away, and as they began following the policeman across the wild scrubland the only sound to be heard was the moaning of the wind in the distant trees. If Adele’s hair had started to dry since leaving the flat it was wet again in seconds, sticking to her head as the rain ran down her face in rivulets.

  Two police recovery vehicles were parked amongst the bushes around the edge of the quarry, and a green tarpaulin had been erected behind the vehicles to form a makeshift tent. Uniformed police, accompanied by Alsatian dogs, were searching the area while the plain-clothes officers in the back of one of the vehicles emerged only when they caught sight of Casey and Adele.

  ‘Hello, Melvin.’ Casey nodded to one of the officers, a tall, thin man with red hair and a pale, freckled complexion who looked as if he’d rather have been anywhere else in the world than at this rain-swept quarry on a Sunday afternoon, dealing with whatever tragedy lay beyond the green tarpaulin.

  ‘Afternoon, Casey.’ DI Daniels glanced at Adele.

  ‘This is Dr Brooks,’ Casey explained. ‘She’s my trainee.’

  ‘Does she want to be in on this?’ DI Daniels eyed Adele doubtfully.

  ‘Of course.’ It was Adele who briskly replied.

  ‘As you wish.’ The detective gave a slight shrug as if to say that it was up to her but that she’d been warned.

  ‘What have we got?’ asked Casey as they began to follow the detective towards the tarpaulin.

  ‘The body of a young girl,’ Melvin Daniels replied. ‘And before you ask, yes, it does look very much like it’s the teenager who’s been missing for the last couple of weeks.’ Lifting the flap of the tent, he stood back to allow them to enter ahead of him.

  It would have been gloomy in the tent but the police had set up an arc light, which cast a pool of light directly onto a shockingly small bundle on the ground. The body was lying beneath a plastic sheet and as DI Daniels crouched down and lifted the sheet, Adele braced herself for whatever she might be about to see. In her work as a hospital doctor she had seen death on many occasions but usually it had been as a result of illness, of natural causes or from an accident. She had never seen death as the result of violence or murder.

  The girl was lying on her side almost in the foetal position and looked young, very young, little more than a child really with her pale, blue-tinged face and her wispy blonde hair matted and caked with mud. Taking over from the detective, Casey gently drew back the plastic sheet that covered her body and Adele caught a glimpse of a pink and orange striped T-shirt. The sight of it struck a chord with her and she realised it was identical to one she had bought for Elaine’s daughter Holly on her last birthday. As her stomach lurched in revolt Adele’s gaze flew again to the girl’s face. This girl was fair; Holly was dark. It wasn’t Holly but the thought that it might have been and that she was someone’s daughter, someone’s niece, was Adele’s undoing.

  Gagging, she turned abruptly away, leaving Casey to do what he had to do. Stumbling outside, past DI Daniels, she collided with one of the officers.

  ‘Are you all right, miss?’ He was an older man, big, burly and somehow reassuring as he held her by her arms, steadying her.

  ‘Yes,’ Adele gasped. ‘Yes, thanks, I’m fine.’ She wasn’t fine, she felt dreadful, but she could hardly say as much.

  ‘Not pleasant, is it?’ The officer jerked his head in the direction of the tarpaulin that concealed its
tragic burden.

  ‘No.’ Adele gulped, breathing in great breaths of the cold damp air in an effort to steady herself. ‘No, it isn’t.’

  ‘Your first time, is it?’ asked the officer sympathetically.

  Adele nodded, suddenly unable to trust her voice. Thrusting her hands into the pockets of her jacket, it took her a full minute to realise that this was, in fact, not her jacket but Casey’s, and that the objects inside, the scraps of paper, the pen, the set of keys, weren’t hers. Almost guiltily she withdrew her hands.

  Casey emerged a few minutes later and Adele found she was unable to meet his gaze. She waited in the gusting rain as he climbed into the back of one of the police vehicles, presumably to complete essential paperwork. By the time he joined her she had managed to pull herself together at least enough to face the somewhat uncompromising stare of the detective inspector.

  ‘Thanks, Casey.’ Melvin Daniels nodded then glanced at Adele. ‘You OK, Dr Brooks?’

  ‘Yes, fine,’ Adele lied. She was far from fine but she didn’t want him or any of his men or even Casey, come to that, to know just how badly she had been affected.

  In silence they walked back to the Land Rover, and as Casey unlocked her door she almost fell inside and thankfully sank down into her seat. It was a relief to get out of the wind and the rain but more than that it was as if the familiarity of the vehicle offered some sanctuary from the grim reality of what had happened.

  Casey sat for a moment with his hands resting on the steering-wheel, making no attempt to start the engine as if he, too, had been deeply affected by what he had witnessed. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said at last, turning his head to look at Adele.

  ‘Wh-what d-do you m-mean?’ To her horror her teeth were chattering as she tried to speak.

  ‘I shouldn’t have taken you there. It was too much, too soon. I should have realised what it might have been.’

  ‘Y-you said you c-can’t take anything f-for g-granted.’

  ‘I know, but I should have anticipated.’

  ‘She’d b-been murdered, hadn’t she?’ In her anxiety Adele began twisting her cold wet hands together.

  ‘It looked that way.’ Casey took a deep breath and started the engine.

  ‘How?’ Adele’s voice was little more than a whisper and for a moment she thought he might not have heard her above the sound of the engine.

  But as they bumped over the rough terrain and the windscreen wipers began to whirr again he shook his head. ‘That wasn’t for me to say. The post-mortem will determine that.’

  ‘But—’ Adele wanted to say that he must have seen signs, must have known or suspected, but he cut her short.

  ‘My job was simply to certify the death. It’s best not to speculate, Adele. Believe me, I know. If you start speculating you’ll drive yourself mad.’

  They were silent after that as Casey drove through the wind and the rain back to Woolverton House. By the time they arrived it was almost dark, and after Casey had parked the Land Rover they made their way through the house and up the stairs. As they reached the first-floor landing Adele would have left Casey and carried on up to her own floor but he touched her arm, stopping her.

  ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Your coat—sorry.’

  ‘No, it isn’t that.’ He indicated the closed door to his flat. ‘Come in for a moment.’

  She didn’t want to. She wanted to get back to her own flat, peel off her wet clothes and step into a hot bath, but somehow he didn’t give her the chance to refuse and she found herself meekly waiting as he unlocked the door. As the door swung open Adele glanced up the stairs, wondering what Penny would think if she saw her going into Casey’s flat with him, but to her relief there was no sign of Penny and the door to her flat was firmly closed.

  The door swung open then Casey flicked the light switch and stood back, allowing Adele to precede him into the flat. It was larger than her apartment, she could see that at a glance, but it was tastefully furnished if in a rather minimalist masculine way with dark wood furniture and a large, glass-topped coffee-table between two leather sofas.

  ‘Let me relieve you of that coat.’ Casey slipped the waxed jacket from her shoulders and, together with the oilskin he was wearing, took it through to what appeared to be the kitchen. He reappeared almost immediately, carrying a large, white towel. ‘Here,’ he said, handing it to her. ‘Get yourself dry.’

  She stared at him and for the moment it seemed as if she was rooted to the spot, incapable of action.

  ‘Adele…?’ he said gently, bending his head slightly to look into her face. To her horror her eyes filled with tears and she was forced to press one hand to her mouth to quell the sob that suddenly threatened to erupt. With a quiet exclamation he reached out and, putting his hand beneath her chin, tilted her face up to his. ‘Hey,’ he said softly, his eyes curiously tender. ‘What is this…?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered as the tears began to run unchecked down her face. ‘It’s just that…the girl…she was wearing a T-shirt identical to one that I gave my niece for her birthday…’ She gulped, the tears suddenly choking her. ‘She…she didn’t look much older than Holly…I keep thinking it could have been her. And it was so awful up there, so wet and wild…and…and so lonely…’ She shook her head in distress, unable to blot out the pictures that filled her head.

  Without a word Casey stepped forward and before Adele had a chance to even think what he was doing he put his arms around her and held her close, so close that all she could hear was the steady beating of his heart through the damp fabric of his sweatshirt as he allowed her tears to flow.

  It felt safe, warm and secure in the shelter of his arms and at that moment, if she’d been asked, Adele quite easily could have said that she was happy to stay there indefinitely. But gradually, inevitably, common sense began to return and Adele was the first to move.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered as she fumbled for a tissue, wiping both her eyes and blowing her nose. ‘That was very unprofessional of me.’

  ‘Not at all.’ He didn’t release her, just moved back a bit so he could look into her face again while keeping his arms around her. He really should let her go, she thought, albeit half-heartedly, but he didn’t. Instead, he said, ‘It wasn’t unprofessional at all. It was a perfectly normal, human reaction to tragedy and violence. I just wish I’d thought it through before I allowed you to go in there.’

  ‘I have to get used to that sort of thing if I’m going to be involved in police work,’ Adele protested weakly.

  ‘That’s true,’ he admitted, ‘but there are ways of preparing you and I guess I neglected them.’

  Still he made no attempt to release her and by this time Adele was beginning to feel not only embarrassed at the way she had shown her weakness and her vulnerability but also uncomfortable at the way she must look. She was cold and wet and could feel that her hair was plastered to her head. And if that wasn’t enough, she had been crying—her nose always turned red when she cried. And as it finally dawned on her just how unattractive she must appear she finally managed to pull away from him. Picking up the towel which had somehow fallen to the floor, she began to dry her hair and face while Casey, after watching her for a moment, disappeared into the kitchen then returned to stand in the doorway, vigorously drying his own hair with a dark red towel.

  ‘Are your clothes wet?’ he asked after a few moments.

  ‘No,’ she replied hastily. ‘They’re fine.’ Her jeans, in fact, were quite damp but she had no doubt that if she’d said yes he would have had no qualms in telling her to take them off so that he could dry them. ‘That jacket kept me really dry.’

  With the red towel draped casually around his neck, Casey strolled back into the room, crouched down in front of the fireplace and lit the gas fire. ‘Come and get warm,’ he said as the comforting glow from the flames flickered around the room.

  Adele perched on the edge of one of the leather sofas while Casey crossed to a cabinet on the far side of the room, op
ened it and took out two glasses and a bottle.

  A moment later he returned with the glasses and handed one to her. ‘Brandy,’ he said firmly. ‘It’ll do you good. You’ve had a shock.’

  She didn’t drink spirits very often, preferring to stick to wine, but on this occasion she made no protest and as she sipped the amber-coloured liquid and the combined warmth from that and the fire began to steal through her veins she slowly felt herself begin to recover.

  Casey sat opposite her and, taking a mouthful of his own brandy, cradled the glass in his hand. ‘Tell me about your niece,’ he said after a while.

  ‘Her name is Holly,’ Adele replied, setting her glass down on the coffee-table. ‘She’s my sister Elaine’s oldest child and she’s twelve years old. She’s…she’s great,’ she added, ‘and I love her to bits.’

  ‘You say she’s your sister’s eldest child?’

  ‘Yes, Elaine has two other children—Katy who’s nine and Harry who’s five.’

  ‘So is Elaine your only sister?’ He sounded as if he was really interested, as if he wanted to know, and suddenly Adele felt something wash over her that could only be described as homesickness. Maybe it was a direct result of the events of the afternoon, she didn’t know, but whatever it was she found herself moving farther back on the sofa, settling herself more comfortably, at ease now as she talked of her family.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘there are just the two of us. Elaine is four years older than me.’

  ‘So she started her family when she was very young,’ he observed.

  ‘She did,’ Adele agreed. ‘She started training to be a teacher, then she met Rod—he’s a solicitor—they married within a year and Elaine very soon found she liked having babies.’

  ‘And what about you?’ He raised an eyebrow, the one split by the scar, which in the subdued lighting of the room somehow gave him a slightly demonic look.