‘Well, nothing is ever as simple as it seems from the outside. Twenty years working for the NHS should have taught me that.’
‘I was hoping simple lives do exist — for other people, I mean. It gives me hope.’
‘You can certainly make your life simpler. Fixing your arm is just the start for you, Grace. But it must hurt like hell. You can’t think straight when you’re in pain.’
Grace stood up. She pushed the pills into her pocket.
‘You do have to start sometime, though. Promise me you’ll be back soon.’
‘I just can’t face it right now. I thought I was ready.’
Nurse Davies got to her feet. She still held her arms tightly across her front, her cheeks flushed with the cold. ‘I guess that will have to do,’ she said.
‘Thanks.’
The nurse shrugged and started to walk away. She called out as she did so, ‘That’s what I’m here for!’
Grace lifted the bottle of pills. She struggled a little with the lid. She had already had some of the tablets she had taken from the house today. These would surely be stronger. She tipped two out and swallowed them dry. By the time she pushed the pillbox back into her coat pocket and looked up, the nurse was out of sight.
Chapter 27
Grace mumbled her thanks to the taxi driver and walked back towards the communal entrance to Sally’s flat. The snow was now more like sleet and it was getting dark quickly. She fiddled in her pocket for the key. It had a black, plastic fob on it that would get her through the communal door. It got caught up on her pocket and, in her haste to pull it out, fell to the floor with a clang. She cursed and bent to pick it up. The action made her arm throb.
She continued to the door but stopped suddenly. She didn’t need the fob: the door was loose, creaking in the breeze. She peered through to the corridor beyond. There was moisture on the floor where the sleet was blowing into the communal area. It looked like it had been blowing in for some time. This was supposed to be a secure building, which was the whole point of it. The door had been locked when she had left.
She pushed the door open wider and stopped still to listen. She couldn’t hear anything out of the ordinary — the only noises were the clicks of the lights coming on above the stairs, bathing the hall in a dirty-yellow sheen. She took the steps in front of her until she got to Sally’s landing. This had been locked earlier, too. Now it was wedged with some folded-up paper that had been forced under the door holding it all the way open. She stopped again to listen. Still nothing. She stepped closer to Sally’s door. There was no noise at all. Grace readied her key, but tried the handle first. It opened with one twist. The hinges groaned a little as she stepped in.
‘Sally?’ Grace called out. The movement of the door obstructed her view, but she could make out a light source in the living room. She stayed behind the door for now, anticipating a cheery greeting from Sally, and an enquiry about how her hospital visit had gone. It didn’t happen. The silence remained.
She looked left into the kitchen. The fading light through the window was enough for her to see that it was neat and tidy. She had only cast a glance in there earlier but nothing had looked out of place. Straight ahead of her was a large cupboard with shoes arranged neatly along the bottom. Again nothing looked disturbed. She stepped further in and peered around the door — slowly, deliberately. The door to the living room was open and she could see the end of the long sofa. The main light was on and it made the early evening look darker through the window behind. Still nothing was out of place, but still no Sally. Maybe she had popped next door or taken some rubbish out and they had just missed each other? That might explain the wedged doors. She looked down at the keys in her hand; maybe the fob was the only one Sally was issued with? She felt a little better, told herself that she was just being silly. There was nothing to be worried about. No one knew she was here and, even if they did, no one remained to do her any harm. She wouldn’t have to be here long. Soon she could leave. She could start a new life somewhere quiet, where no one knew her. Sally had arranged it all. She had been so precise. Grace had known all along exactly what she had to do. She liked that, she always had — clear instructions.
She undid her jacket and let it fall open. The sling was effective: her arm was pulled tightly against her midriff and it made it a lot more bearable. She walked around the door and into the living room. It was spacious and it opened up in front of her. On the right side was a display cabinet with some trinkets and old ornaments in it. To the left, beyond where the television sat on a low table, was a door, the top half of which was glass. She assumed it led to the bedrooms. As she moved into the room, she saw a smaller sofa against the wall, near the door. A magazine was on the floor that looked like it had fallen off the arm. She got closer. On the other side of the chair, a mug lay on its side, a brown stain spread from its rim and it still looked damp.
Why would Sally not clean up a spilled cup?
She felt her heart beat a little faster. She had been suppressing her fear, dismissing the feeling in that flat as ridiculous — her own anxiety making something out of nothing. She couldn’t suppress it any longer, the atmosphere in there was thick with panic — and not just hers.
She crossed the floor swiftly and made it back to the front door. Her hand reached out for the handle. She paused with her fingers gripped round the cold metal. She couldn’t just leave. Not without knowing that Sally was okay — or at least without being certain that she wasn’t there. And where would she go? She turned her head back towards the lounge. She heard a thud. It sounded like it had come from below her — the flat downstairs. There was another one straight after. She was more certain, now: the sound was not coming from inside the flat. She breathed out and took her hand off the handle. She was being silly, and all because of some spilt tea or coffee. She knew she was more on edge than normal. She needed to check the flat. She needed to be sure.
Back in the lounge she stopped again at the upturned cup. It looked like it had been almost full. She bent down next to it. The carpet was thin, but still deep enough for the wheels on the sofa to make small, distinctive dents. The wheels now rested an inch or so outside of these impressions. There were scrapes on the wall too, black marks that stood out against the white plaster. They looked fresh. They were level with the top of the sofa and she felt sure they had been made by it being pushed against the wall with some force. She moved to the internal door. There were glass panels running down as part of the wall either side. They were slightly smoked; it was a dated design. Through the glass she could make out a corridor with the same cheap-looking carpet and illuminated by the same, yellowed bulbs. The internal doors were off-white and flimsy looking. The two she could see were both closed.
She pulled the door open and crept across the hallway to stand against the furthest door. She would work her way back. She held her breath and listened . . . nothing. She considered calling out again. Maybe Sally was having a lie down. Maybe she would hear her now. She would wake up and ask her why she looked so damned frightened. Then she would tell her to stop being so damned silly! She shook her head. She couldn’t call out. She didn’t know what the answer might be. She wasn’t sure she was able to call out anyway. She pushed the handle down and the door pushed in — this one groaned, too, and the sound seemed like the loudest thing she had ever heard. She didn’t push it hard; the door only edged open, enough to light a sliver of the darkened room beyond.
A woman’s bare foot hung over the end of the bed. She could see a flash of red nail polish. There was no movement.
‘Sally?’ Her voice was strained, broken for the first part of the word. She cleared her throat and swallowed. There was no answer, no movement. She pushed the door harder. More was revealed. She recognised the clothes Sally had been wearing: dark-coloured leggings and a fleece top that had felt warm and soft when they had embraced. She was lying on her front. Grace couldn’t see her head — not quite. She would need one more step. She pushed herself forward.
Her hand fumbled for the light switch and then every inch was revealed.
Sally’s head was turned towards her, her eyes wide open and unfocused; they made no effort to see who was entering. Her mouth was open — as wide as it could be — her tongue lolled out from the side and her neck had a dimpled red line round it. Everything else was white — as pale as death. Grace felt the scream build; it rushed through her and she sucked in air to fuel it, but before she found her voice, something slapped across her mouth. It stayed firm and she was dragged backwards so hard that she was taken off her feet. She hit the floor with her upper back, not as hard as a freefall but hard all the same — enough to knock the wind out of her. Her mouth was still covered.
‘You don’t say a word! Make noise and you lie next to her, understand?’ It was a man’s voice, thick with an accent, the words hissed directly into her ear. She could feel the breath, warm and moist. She felt herself pulled, half dragged, back through the door and into the living room. She was thrown into the same chair she had just inspected. She felt it move back on its wheels and it bumped off the wall beside her. Her mind flashed with a realisation that incorporated the dent in the carpet, the spilt cup and the scrape on the wall.
This was where Sally had started.
Chapter 28
Maddie was glad to push the door shut to her apartment. She kicked her shoes off into an untidy heap by the door and the wooden flooring felt instantly cool under the feet. The thermostat for the heating was on the far wall, where the kitchen merged with the living room. She switched the main light on and made for it. She turned the kettle on next and was back out of her bedroom in a snug pair of pyjamas before it turned itself off. She dropped a teabag in a mug and poured water over it. The shrill ring of her mobile phone was enough to make her slop the water over the sides.
‘Dammit!’ She lifted the phone. The screen showed the number and she recognised the code as being from the Maidstone area. ‘Hello?’
‘DS Ives?’ It sounded like a young woman and there was a low din in the background as if she was in a call centre of some sort.
‘Yes.’
The woman must have picked up on the uncertainty in her voice. ‘Sorry to bother you. I’m Helen from the FCR. Is this a good time?’
The FCR was the Force Control Room, where Lennockshire Police fielded all their emergency calls.
‘Oh, yes of course. Sorry, you just caught me out a little bit. I was expecting you to start selling me PPI refunds. How can I help?’
‘I’m not sure, really, Sarge. We’ve had a call in from a nurse. She was talking about a woman who came into hospital with an injury and discharged herself. The nurse is worried that she didn’t get the treatment she needs and our record has a note for you to be informed. Grace Hughes — does that mean something to you?’
Maddie had moved to the window where she had a view of snowflakes falling past the street lights of Sandgate’s High Street. She now spun to face back into the room.
‘Grace Hughes! She means something, yes. What do you know?’ Maddie had marked up her record when she had given her the GPS alarm, so she would be informed of any contact with the police.
‘Well, that’s about it, really. She went into the hospital in Margate this afternoon with an arm injury. The nurse thinks it was broken. She also noticed other bruising — all over her body, she said. She suspects she is the victim of domestic abuse, so she called it in.’
‘She did the right thing. Is she still at the hospital?’
‘Grace? No, she—’
‘The nurse, no sorry, the nurse.’ Maddie pulled open a drawer and rummaged for a pen and a notepad.
‘Oh, I don’t know.’
‘Did she call in on a mobile number?’
‘She did, yes.’
‘Can I take the number? I’ll give her a call.’ Maddie scratched down the number and gave a hurried thanks.
She had taken her name too — Becky Davies. She underlined it while she listened to the ringing tone. Something for her hands to do — a nervous tick. The phone was answered. Again a female voice, this one sounded a little more harassed.
‘Hello — is that Becky Davies?’
‘Yeah, who is this?’
‘Becky, I am Detective Sergeant Maddie Ives. Thanks for answering my call and thanks so much for calling in today — about Grace Hughes?’ Maddie gave her a second to remember the name.
‘Grace, yes. I saw her today.’
‘I’ve just been called about it from our control centre. Grace is someone I have been working with for a little while. She is someone we have assessed here as being at high risk of coming to some serious harm. Her boyfriend . . . well, he’s a piece of shit, Becky.’
‘I guessed that. She’s in a right state.’
‘The call taker got some information, but I just wanted to run over it again with you, if I can. We don’t know where she is right now and I just want to be sure she is safe. There’s some noise in the background, can you hear me okay?’
‘Yeah. I’m on the bus. Just on my way home. There’s not really much more I can say though.’
‘I appreciate that. Tell me where you work and how you got to see Grace today.’
‘Where I work? I’m an A&E triage nurse at QEQM in Margate. I do the initial assessments and referrals. Grace presented with a pain in her left arm. She was really struggling with it. She was sweating. Her whole movement looked awkward, to be honest. When she showed me her arm I was quite shocked. There is a break in the middle of her forearm, probably the radius. The colour presentation around it suggested that she’s suffering blood-flow issues — and has been for some time.’
‘Some time?’
‘Yeah. We get training on how to spot people in abusive relationships. One of the big signs is an old injury. The abuser stops them going to hospital until it gets so bad they have no real choice. It was what made me call. That and the other bruises . . .’
‘Other bruises?’ Maddie said. She heard a sigh down the phone.
‘Yeah, she was covered, the poor cow. Her back and side was the worst. Some new, some looked older. I don’t reckon she could move any which way without it hurting.’
‘Was she alone?’
‘I’m pretty sure she was. She said she was and I spoke to Neil out on reception. He said he didn’t see her with anyone while she was waiting. I saw her after she left, too. I caught up with her outside and she was alone then. I tried to get her to come back and get the treatment she needed. I managed to give her some stronger painkillers at least. I probably shouldn’t have done that.’
‘Your secret’s safe with me, Becky. Did she say she was coming back?’
‘I asked her to. She didn’t commit to when, but she will need to get that arm sorted before it becomes very complicated. She’ll be in constant pain.’
Maddie moved the phone from her ear for a brief second. There was a beep telling her she had another call. It was Harry. He would have to wait; this was important.
‘I don’t suppose she gave you any clue where she might be staying?’
‘No, none at all. She walked away from the car park though so I guessed she was local, if that helps?’
‘Did she give any contact details? A phone number?’
‘No. I didn’t see her with a phone either. Usually you call out to the waiting room and nine times out of ten people look up from a phone. I didn’t see her with one.’
‘Okay, it was a long shot. Thanks for your help. You did the right thing calling it in. I’ve had people tagged before on the hospital system. If I remember right you can put a note against her name asking for the police to be informed when she turns up. Can you put that on Grace?’
‘I can, yeah. People don’t always see it or do what it asks, but I will make sure it’s on there. I’m back on at seven tomorrow morning — I’ll do it first thing.’
Maddie took a second to think. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll get our control centre to make contact with the NHS tonight. I’d rather get th
at on there now. She might even have gone to another hospital.’
‘She might. She left when I asked her about her partner. She just clammed up. I can be a bit of a bull in a china shop. I don’t get why you’d stay with someone who does that to you, but people don’t want to hear it, do they?’
‘They don’t, no.’
‘You’re really worried about her, aren’t you?’
‘Yes. She needs help. Thanks for trying.’
They said their goodbyes. Maddie made the call to her control centre straight after to get her record flagged. Then she had the call log from Becky Davies’s initial report sent to her email so she could check that nothing had been missed. Her phone beeped with a message from Harry:
Meeting 7 a.m. tomorrow. No need to call back.
She smiled to herself. As much detail as she had come to expect. She moved back to her window where she had left her mug. It was still warm. Her thoughts moved back to Grace and what this information meant. It meant nothing on its own, but she would run Grace back through the police systems — see if she had any links to Margate. She couldn’t remember seeing any. She would call her father, too — maybe Ian Hughes knew of a friend or a relative over there, or maybe she had even got in touch with him. It meant going into a police station. The closest was only fifteen minutes away but she could see the snow was starting to thicken. It would be much longer if she had to walk. She would drink her tea first at least. Then she would need to get changed again.
Her door thumped. It sounded more like someone had fallen into it, rather than knocked. She put her mug down and pulled it open roughly, ready to berate the person responsible.
Adam Yarwood had a wide grin. He also had a white carrier bag in one hand and a satchel hanging from the other. His door key was in his mouth.
‘I ran out of hands!’
‘Did you kick my door?’ Maddie tried to be stern but couldn’t hold back a chuckle.
HE WILL KILL YOU an absolutely gripping crime thriller with a massive twist Page 23
