HE WILL KILL YOU an absolutely gripping crime thriller with a massive twist

by Charlie Gallagher

  ‘Maddie!’ She recognised the voice instantly as one of the regular counter staff: Lisa Harriett. She sounded urgent.

  ‘Hey, Lisa. I’m sorry but I’m really busy up here. Is it something that I can help with later?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Lisa lowered her voice. ‘We have a gentleman down here who has your name from somewhere and he won’t leave until he speaks to you. He looks all beat up and he won’t tell me what it’s about.’

  ‘Beat up?’

  ‘Yeah. His face, he looks like he’s been fighting. He doesn’t look like the type though, know what I mean?’

  Maddie didn’t have the foggiest, if she was honest. ‘Okay, can you tell him that I’m a little busy at the moment. See if you can take a number and I’ll give him a call just as soon as I can.’

  ‘I did try that. I called up an hour ago and someone from your team answered and said you were out. I told him and he just said he would stay. He said he’s already been sent over here from Langthorne — he went there first. He’s been sat there ever since. I don’t think he’s going to go anywhere.’

  Maddie huffed. ‘Did he give you his name?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s Ian . . . Ian Hughes. He said he was here about his daughter, Grace?’

  Maddie had been getting frustrated with her computer. Nothing seemed to be loading and now she wondered whether she might be trying to open too much at once. Suddenly it didn’t matter.

  ‘Grace?’

  ‘That’s what he said.’

  ‘Tell him I’ll be right down.’

  Less than a minute later, Maddie pushed through the door into the public area at the front of the police station. She was a little out of breath having almost broken into a jog.

  ‘Ian Hughes?’ she asked of the only seated person in the public area.

  He stood up immediately, looking nervous and awkward. ‘DS Ives?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is she here?’

  Maddie’s face must have shown her confusion. ‘Is who here, sir?’

  ‘My daughter, Grace? You know Grace, right? She said she was coming to see you?’ He was looking at her intently now, as if he thought she might be hiding something. Maddie suddenly felt a little uncomfortable. He looked like he was holding his breath, waiting for good news.

  ‘I’m really sorry, I haven’t heard from her. Did she say she was coming down here?’

  ‘I saw her two days ago. She said she was. She was keeping a diary. She said you told her to?’

  Maddie held up her hands. ‘Okay, okay, Mr Hughes, I know your daughter. I told her to keep a diary and it arrived today by post. I’ve been out to the house. I need to speak to her, but right now I can’t find her.’

  ‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’ He seemed to study her closely now for her reaction.

  ‘Who?’ She knew very well who.

  ‘Craig. He’s dead.’

  ‘I am aware that’s a possibility. I know the local media have suggested a name but the official identification—’

  ‘He’s dead, and it was merciful,’ Ian cut over her. ‘He went up in a car explosion, right? He wouldn’t have even seen it coming. He’s not answered for what he did.’

  ‘And what was that?’ Maddie said.

  ‘I’m certain now that I don’t know the half of it. I saw how she was. She could hide the bruises and tell me lies but I saw the limps and the grimaces and the way she couldn’t even look at me. They lost a baby, too, because of that monster. Did you know that? She was hurting every day. I couldn’t get her away from him.’

  Maddie had her hands back in the air, surrendering to his onslaught again. ‘Mr Hughes, please! I couldn’t get her away from him either and I can tell you it was eating me up inside, too.’

  He came back slower and softer. ‘It hurts that she didn’t talk to me about it. I know she would have told her mother. We lost her. A few years back. Grace didn’t take it well. Neither of us did. But there was a positive to come out of that — it made us even closer. Right up until that piece of . . . But now I don’t know where she is. In her head I mean. She finally plucks up the courage to leave him, she sends you everything and then he’s gone. Just like that. I need to speak to her. I need to know she’s alright.’

  ‘I do, too. We’re doing what we can to find her. She’s a priority right now, I can assure you of that.’

  ‘I know my Grace. At least I used to. I reckon she’ll be taking a bit of time. She’ll come and see you when she’s ready, but it will be you she comes to. She seemed to be clear about that.’

  ‘And when she does I’ll make sure she lets you know she’s okay.’

  Ian paused. It was clear he had something more to say. His eyes roved around the room before they rested back on Maddie. He leaned in a little closer.

  ‘Was it bad?’ he said.

  ‘Was what bad, Mr Hughes?’ Maddie was stalling.

  ‘The stuff she wrote . . . the stuff in that diary . . . Was it bad? I know it was worse than I thought.’

  ‘It came this morning. I’ve not had a chance to read it properly, but I will. I owe her that.’

  ‘You must have at least flicked through it. You must have an idea.’

  Maddie sighed. She wasn’t going to be able to fob him off. Images of horror, pain and a cast-iron vice all flashed to the front of her mind. It wasn’t for her to tell Grace’s father. She didn’t know if Grace would either. He chewed nervously on his bottom lip. He needed some sort of answer.

  ‘I flicked through. Your daughter has unbelievable strength, Mr Hughes, and ultimately she won. She made it through. Now we have to all be there for her and we have to make sure he doesn’t have a legacy. For us he may be gone, for Grace it will take a lot longer.’

  Ian’s face shuddered like he might break. ‘Thank you. I’ll leave my number. Please, the second you hear from her, you will let me know?’

  ‘I will. And, Mr Hughes . . .’ He was scribbling his details on a scrap piece of paper, using the counter to rest on as he turned to her. ‘You need to call us in the future — if you have concerns, I mean. Not try and sort it out in the toilets. You’re not that sort of man.’

  He flushed red. ‘Turns out you’re right. I got one in, though. I might even have broken his nose. With all that’s happened, I’m glad I took that chance.’

  * * *

  ‘Grace Hughes?’

  Grace jerked at the sound of her own name. She was still sitting in the firm plastic seat. Her head had been down and she’d been focusing on her breathing as a way of coping with her aching arm, while watching the constant passing of shoes along the section of floor in front of her. She’d been there an hour and the movement had been constant in both directions. She lifted her eyes to a thirty-something woman in a light blue nurse’s uniform. She was ten metres away and surveying the waiting room, waiting for someone to react. People still bustled past her, stepping around the obstruction.

  ‘Grace Hughes?’ she called out again, a little louder this time. She had a friendly face and her tone was patient and warm, even in just a couple of words. Grace suddenly felt a little sick. She didn’t want to be speaking to anyone. She knew there would be questions about how it had happened. She couldn’t talk about it. Not yet. Maybe this was all a bad idea. She could get some painkillers from the chemist, enough to get her through the next couple of days and then she would come back. She bent her head. Her attention was back to the floor. Then a pair of plain, black shoes stopped in front of her. Tights rose up out of them. She could just see the bottom of a light-blue dress.

  ‘Grace Hughes?’ It was the same voice but quieter, more reassuring. ‘The fella behind the window there remembers you. I’m Becky Davies. I’m a nurse here. He said you might have a broken arm. Want me to take a look?’

  Grace lifted her eyes. Becky Davies’s smile was even warmer close up. She had short hair dyed a dark shade of purple and pushed over to one side. ‘I don’t know if it’s broken,’ Grace said.

  ‘Well, you haven�
�t had the training I’ve had! It must hurt pretty bad for you to think it might be. Come through and we can have a look.’ The nurse took a few steps, giving Grace some space to stand up and get herself together. They moved away from the waiting room and down a short corridor that was wide enough for workstations either side. Some had staff stood at them, clicking through computer screens and writing notes. Becky stopped at a bed with a wraparound curtain. A high-backed chair was next to it. Grace took up the offer to sit and the chair had an immediate chill that seeped through her coat. The nurse pulled the curtain around. Grace could hear voices from the other side, it sounded like the beginning of an argument.

  ‘Can we get to your arm? How many layers are you wearing?’ The nurse was a few paces away, still giving her space. Grace appreciated it. She took off her jacket. That was easy. Her jumper was more difficult. The nurse stayed where she was and she didn’t offer to help. She lifted it enough so her arm was exposed.

  ‘That top’s going to have to come right off, I’m afraid. I can help if you need it.’

  Grace hesitated. She only had a bra on underneath; once she took her jumper off, all of her injuries would be on show.

  ‘It’s a little chilly in here,’ Grace said. Her attention was half on the curtain too. The voices outside were seemingly louder, more aggressive — male and female. The female was starting to shout. The nurse must have seen her looking beyond her, towards the noise. She rolled her eyes. ‘It’s just a few minutes. I can’t check you over properly with your top on.’

  Grace considered her options: she could be insistent or she could leave. She didn’t feel strong enough to do either. It was tough lifting her jumper over her head one-handed but she managed it. The nurse pulled the sleeve from her good arm and then it was off. Grace looked straight ahead. She knew the bruising to her side was looking worse; it had come out in a deep blue that was quickly turning purple. Her lower back was bruised, too, and the skin on her upper back and neck was still an angry red. Her arm throbbed.

  She saw the nurse’s expression change, it was subtle at first, but less so as her eyes flicked over her body. She only spoke to ask Grace to sit back down. She was asked to rest her arm on a flat, black surface, like a miniature dinner tray. It was cold and painful but she did as she was told. The nurse ran her finger gently along it then brought Grace’s other arm over for a comparison. Grace stifled her reaction the best she could.

  ‘Okay. Well, you were right. We have a broken arm for sure.’ Nurse Davies lifted her eyes to meet with Grace. ‘Is he here? In the waiting room or outside?’ Her smile had faded.

  ‘What do you mean? Who?’

  ‘You’re covered in bruises. They vary in age and they’re mostly in places that you can cover up. This injury to your arm, you haven’t just done this either, have you?’

  Grace didn’t answer. She had expected questions and she was ready for those, but these weren’t questions.

  ‘You get to know what signs of domestic abuse look like,’ the nurse said, ‘and you’ve ticked just about every one of them. The only thing that’s missing is the abusive partner sitting next to you, making sure you tell me that you fell down some stairs, or that you’re clumsy around doors.’ She stopped talking. There still wasn’t a question but it was clear that Grace was supposed to talk next.

  ‘I left him.’ Grace’s voice was almost a whisper. The raised voices from outside the curtain were starting to move away. A different male voice seemed to be pleading with them to leave.

  ‘Well then, you made a good decision. Why didn’t you speak to the police?’

  ‘Who said I didn’t?’

  ‘Because they’re not here. And they would be. They would want a copy of your medical records. They would be taking pictures and statements. They like to do it at the hospital so they can get it all done together. Trust me, I’ve seen it enough times.’

  Grace had nothing to say. She didn’t want to talk about it. She hadn’t come here to talk about it. But Nurse Davies wasn’t finished yet.

  ‘If you have the strength to leave him, maybe you should go the whole hog? Speak to the police. No way he should be getting away with this. His next girlfriend won’t thank you.’

  Grace’s gaze slipped back to the floor. ‘It’s complicated.’

  ‘It isn’t, Grace. Life never is — not really. The person that did this to you should answer for it. See, simple!’

  ‘It always is when it’s someone else. You and my dad would get on well!’ Grace suddenly flashed angry. This wasn’t her fault — none of it. What he had done, why he had done it, that he chose to do it to her — it wasn’t her fault. Her dad used to make her feel like it was. Like she was letting him do what he wanted. She hadn’t been letting him do anything; she just couldn’t stop him.

  She pulled her jumper roughly back over her head and pushed her right arm through one of the sleeves. Nurse Davies was talking again, she was soothing, the warmth was back in her voice. But Grace was done talking about it. She didn’t know what treatment meant for her but she was certain it would mean spending a lot more time in the hospital and right now she was starting to feel very trapped. The aggressive voices on the other side of the curtain were back. They were louder still and now included shouted threats and insults. There was a scuffle of feet and something metallic knocked onto the floor. Nurse Davies was still talking but suddenly Grace couldn’t separate the sounds, they were just a swirl in her mind. Grace was shutting down, the mental equivalent of going into the foetal position. She needed to be somewhere else, anywhere else and she needed to be alone. The sense of panic was rising.

  She moved forward as quickly as she could. She felt her left shoulder collide with something — it could have been the nurse. The pain was excruciating and it served to power her legs. Her right hand swung at the curtain. She moved out and turned right, back the way they had come in. She kept her eyes down, focusing on shoes again. She was pretty sure she walked right through the middle of the man and woman who were still arguing. She ducked low, desperate to disappear.

  She kept her head down until she made it to the entrance. There was a steady stream of people moving both in and out. She was held up. She could see the sunlight and feel the cold breeze. As soon as she made it out she turned left, away from the hospital buildings and towards the road that had brought her here. She took a path that cut through the lawns. The breeze still concealed the smallest of snowflakes but now they felt sharp on her face as she strode into them. She pulled her coat tight. She hadn’t done it up; there hadn’t been time.

  The hospital grounds ended at a steel fence. There was a bench next to it that she fell onto. She needed to stop. She needed to think about what she could do next. Her arm hurt. She did nothing to hide the pain in her expression. She leaned forward, fastened her coat up and hugged herself as tight as she could with one arm. She was only sat there for a few minutes when her vision picked up the familiar black shoes and tights: Nurse Davies. She was still smiling and it still had its warmth. In contrast she looked freezing cold, a thin, navy cardigan the only addition to her uniform and she gripped it tightly around her.

  ‘Hey, Grace. I figured we got off on the wrong foot and that was my fault entirely.’ She moved to sit next to her. Grace didn’t complain. She didn’t say anything.

  ‘I remember when I started in all this. Nursing, I mean. Back then it was all about healing the sick and injured — what you would expect, really. That’s enough to worry about. Now though, now we need to be picking a whole list of things. Domestic violence included. I can spot it, too. It’s obvious once you know. But I’m not so good at talking to people about it. I guess I just say it like I see it. I see someone in harm’s way and expect a conversation on how we get it sorted. You probably think it’s none of my business . . . that I should just make you better. But it is my business, and I am trying to make you better. I can treat a broken arm. I can fix it and you might say that’s my job done. But if you come back in here tomorrow, or next week,
or next month with something I can’t fix, with something none of us can fix, then I’ll have failed you. Am I making sense?’

  ‘I think so,’ Grace said. Nurse Davies was close enough to her for Grace to feel her shiver. ‘You’re freezing cold. You should go back inside.’

  ‘Will you come with me?’

  ‘I can’t right now. I don’t seem to be able to do busy places. I need time and space.’

  ‘I guessed you might say that.’ She lifted something from the bench beside her. Grace hadn’t seen her carrying it. It was a navy blue tube with a white strap. Grace recognised it as a sling. ‘This will give you a little more protection. It will also compress it a little, which is what you need. It’s going to hurt going on but trust me, it will be better in the long run. We need to straighten that arm and that can only be done in surgery. This is the next best thing.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Nurse Davies started pulling her arm around. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. She felt the sling slide up her arm. It was pulled tight by Velcro straps that doubled back through a plastic loop. Her hand gripped round the curved bit at the end. The nurse did her coat up too.

  ‘And these.’ She reached into her pocket and pulled out a rattling pillbox. ‘These are painkillers. The best I can get you if you’re intent on leaving. There are better ones but I can’t justify letting you leave with them. These are pretty strong. No more than four a day. Read the box for times, okay?’

  ‘Thanks.’ She took the box.

  ‘You’re sure you won’t come back in with me to get that fixed properly?’

  ‘I will, just not right now.’

  ‘That’s a real shame. I figured you might have had enough of living in pain. You don’t have to, you know. I can try and make it quieter — try and get you a room for a bit. No promises.’

  ‘Thanks. I really appreciate what you’ve done. And I’m sorry, I know it looks like I’m not helping myself sometimes.’