‘So, how’d it happen, then?’ he asked, as Terry bent down towards a trembling Vanessa. Bryant could see the fear in her eyes and after what Terry had done to Cordell and Mansell he could understand why.
‘I w-want my child,’ she rasped, trying to hold her rib steady.
Bryant had no clue what Terry had done with Mia but he could only deal with what was before him right now. One problem at a time.
‘The accident?’ he asked Terry again.
‘The wh-what?’ Terry asked, confused. His mind was already focussed on taking this woman’s life.
‘The car accident with your wife… what was her?…’
‘Her name was Sarah,’ he offered.
That was exactly what he’d wanted. To put thoughts of his wife into his head. If there was any tenderness, any humanity left behind by the need for vengeance, it would be attached to his wife.
‘How’d it happen?’ Bryant asked, using his behind to scoot a short way along the wall. He knew where he had to go. It was his only chance but the challenge lay in distracting Terry for long enough.
He’d already worked out how easily Terry had been able to frame the Mancinis. Next to the locker room was a bathroom where people cleaned up. In Mancini’s locker had been a comb where he’d been able to get a hair or two. He’d used the Reebok shoes, then handed them in to lost property and mentioned his find to Mancini, who had gone and pilfered them before they entered the system. And older Mancini had mentioned his colleagues dropping by to offer support and a half-dead weed. He was betting that person had been Terry planting the bloodied glove.
As a volunteer, Terry had been able to move around the building virtually unchecked, dropping a file here, a piece of paper here; an invisible helper that no one noticed or remembered.
‘It was dark,’ Terry said. ‘We’d been to a friend’s wedding reception. My friend, not hers,’ he said.
Bryant scooted across one small inch at a time.
‘Sarah was just a couple of weeks away from giving birth. She didn’t want to go,’ he said tapping the flat side of the blade against his palm.
Bryant could see Vanessa’s terror-filled eyes on the gleaming blade.
‘She was tired, felt huge and uncomfortable and I promised her we wouldn’t stay long. And I promised her I wouldn’t drink.
‘She was fine for the first couple of hours, but then she started to moan. The more she complained the more I drank. Beer and whisky shots.’
Bryant was almost at the doorway to the single bathroom that would have served the four beds in the ward. Terry paced back and forth, and each time Terry turned away Bryant had gained another few inches.
‘We left around eleven; she was angry. I was annoyed she was angry. It was hard for her to drive but she wouldn’t let me get behind the wheel.’
Bryant glanced into the doorway, his eyes searching the space. What he sought was just inside on the left-hand side of the room.
‘She was crying, her vision was blurred and she never saw the other car coming. The steering wheel…’ he said, looking down at his stomach.
Bryant didn’t even want to imagine.
And now his story was told Terry once more towered over Vanessa.
‘And you couldn’t save her,’ he screamed into the face of the sobbing woman on the ground. The anguish exploded out of him. ‘You couldn’t save either of them.’
Bryant might have bought them a few more minutes but Terry’s rage was back and it needed a place to land.
Bryant knew if he was going to do anything, it would have to be now.
One Hundred Nine
‘Where is he, David?’ Kim asked, between breaths.
They had travelled all the way to the locker rooms to find an empty space and the photo of Gordon Cordell’s sons on the floor in front of a locker holding a blue microfibre cleaning cloth. Kim had pushed her leg as hard as she dared before passing out.
‘I’m sorry I don’t…’
‘Look,’ she said, pointing to the locker door. ‘That’s blood. My colleague’s blood. Now think, David,’ she said, urgently. ‘Where could Terry have taken him?’
He shook his head, and Kim wanted to reach over and smack him. She knew that wasn’t fair but what she needed right now was either a mind reader or a miracle. She’d take either one.
The whole thing was beginning to make sense to her. Terry had managed to take Vanessa somewhere and restrain her. He’d then taken Mia and locked her in the abandoned office for later so he could have his time with Vanessa. No one would have been suspicious of Terry, a red-tee-shirted volunteer, walking the corridors with a little girl.
He’d seen Bryant, who had probably asked for directions to the locker room. And Terry had taken him. And then maybe smashed his head against the locker.
If that’s what had happened, how far could he have got with an unconscious man, and how badly was her colleague hurt?
And did Bryant yet have any clue what was going on?
All she knew was that she needed to find him. Now.
‘David, I swear if you don’t…’
Her words trailed away as his radio crackled into life.
‘What’s that?’ she asked, unable to hear the incident code or location.
He held up his hand to listen.
‘Another panic alarm in the abandoned day surgery wing.’
‘Take me there,’ Kim said, knowing it was Bryant.
It had to be.
One Hundred Ten
‘What the fuck did you just do?’ Terry roared, glancing Bryant’s way for the first time in minutes.
After making it to the doorway of the bathroom he had managed to grab the panic cord in his teeth and pull, while praying it was still linked up to something. It was his only chance to save either of their lives.
Vanessa cried out as Terry rushed towards him.
‘I knew I should have killed you first,’ he growled. ‘I should have just cut your throat before she got what was coming to her,’ he said, hauling Bryant to his feet.
Bryant thanked God the man had moved away from Vanessa. That knife had been just inches from her skin.
Bryant had to play for more time. If his plan had worked, all he needed was a couple of minutes.
But he knew he was dealing with a man who had nothing to lose. Terry didn’t expect to live. He didn’t want to live. He had nothing left to live for. He was no longer trying to hide his crimes and another dead body meant nothing to him.
‘But it’s not her fault, is it, Terry?’ Bryant asked, locking the man’s gaze with his own. Anything to keep him from looking at Vanessa. His only option was to bait Terry as his bound ankles and wrists locked behind him meant he couldn’t take the man physically.
He knew he was vulnerable to the knife, his body open and exposed, but he had to keep Terry away from Vanessa.
‘It wasn’t Cordell’s fault. It wasn’t his son’s fault. Neither Nat Mansell nor her mother were to blame. And Vanessa isn’t either. You’re right that they couldn’t save Sarah or your child, and you were offered the worst choice imaginable,’ he said, trying to picture having to make the same choice himself. ‘But the choices that mattered, Terry, were all yours. You chose to go to the wedding reception,’ Bryant said, wishing he could hear voices or movement in the corridor. ‘You chose to have a drink or two despite your promise to Sarah. It was you who chose to let Sarah drive instead of insisting on getting a taxi so—’
‘You think this is my fault?’ Terry asked, incredulously, as though the thought had never occurred to him.
Bryant could sense the blade hovering between them attached to a hand that wanted to use it.
He realised that no one was coming and he’d played all the hands he had.
Now he too had nothing to lose.
‘I think the choices you made—’
Suddenly the door burst open, and Bryant didn’t need to look to know who was there.
Terry held his gaze with hate-filled eyes.
&
nbsp; Thank God she’s here, Bryant thought, as the blade was thrust into his flesh.
One Hundred Eleven
‘Someone help him,’ Kim screamed as she lurched forward, reaching him a second after he fell to the ground.
Her hands found the wound site on his stomach, and pressed down hard. The warm stickiness oozed against her palm and over her fingers.
David had kicked the knife behind and had placed himself between herself and Bryant’s attacker.
More footsteps sounded behind her; the noise level increased as people behind her wrestled Terry Chance to the ground. Others moved around her but she didn’t look up and she didn’t move as the blood gurgled through Bryant’s shirt and onto her fingers.
‘Get someone quickly,’ she cried out over her shoulder.
More footsteps, voices on radios but all she could see were Bryant’s fluttering eyelids.
‘Don’t you fucking dare,’ she screamed, feeling the rage rampaging around her body.
‘Bryant, you hear me?’ she said, as the voices around her began to quieten.
‘I mean it, Bryant,’ she cried, bearing down as hard as she could.
‘I’ll never forgive you, you bastard,’ she screamed into the silence around her as the emotion clogged her throat.
‘What can I do? Can I take over?’ Vanessa asked, appearing beside her.
She shook her head, as she heard a trolley being pushed at speed along the hallway. No one was touching him except her.
‘Stay with me, Bryant. Just stay with me,’ she commanded.
‘He saved my life,’ Vanessa breathed.
Of course he had. Kim wanted to find the words to tell her that Mia was fine, but she couldn’t. She only had words for her friend.
‘Bryant, I swear if you leave…’ her voice trailed away as a silent tear rolled over her cheek. She couldn’t even bear to finish the thought.
‘Move aside, please,’ said a voice as her hands were physically removed from his stomach.
Within two seconds Bryant had been lifted up and on to the trolley. A doctor checked him over and then nodded.
‘Theatre 1, now,’ he commanded.
Kim felt powerless as she watched him being wheeled away.
She looked down at her trembling hands, coloured red by Bryant’s blood, through the tears that were blurring her eyes. A vision of Dawson’s broken body at the foot of the bell tower broke into her mind.
No, this could not be happening. She couldn’t lose Bryant. She could not make a box in her mind for him. Not ever.
‘Save him,’ she cried out, falling back against the wall.
The tears rolled openly over her cheeks as she called out to the team rushing down the hall.
‘Please, you just have to save him.’
One Hundred Twelve
Kim continued to stare at the noticeboard. She now knew by heart the signs of diabetes, the effects of smoking and the ten top tips for preventing heart disease.
Richard Terry Chance had been transported to the station and was suddenly not so talkative and had not said a word since asking for a solicitor. Penn was gathering all the forensic data ready for her to join him. She intended to be front and centre in the interrogation of the man who had begun the week helping her and had finished it by stabbing her friend and colleague.
Stacey had arrived an hour earlier and talked to her before Kim had sent her to get coffee. Stacey had urged Kim to come with her, to get a break, but she wasn’t going anywhere. Not yet.
‘He wants to see you,’ Jenny said, appearing in front of her. She hadn’t heard the ward door open or Bryant’s wife approach her.
The woman’s kind face was riddled with fear and worry.
‘He knows I’m here?’ she asked, standing.
Jenny smiled sadly. ‘Where else would you be, Kim?’
The woman opened her arms, and Kim stepped into them. They hugged each other tightly but said nothing. No words were needed. They each understood in their own way the significance of the man beyond the doors in their lives. Both needed and loved him in different ways.
Jenny squeezed her tightly before letting her go.
‘Laura will be here soon. I’ll take her for coffee and then come up.’
Kim nodded and took a deep breath before she entered the room.
Her colleague lay against stark white pillows highlighting his own pale expression. He looked shrunken, vulnerable, weary but alive. Definitely alive.
His eyes fluttered open as she stood beside his bed.
‘Bryant, you absolute fucker. I could kill you,’ she said, swallowing back the tears.
His eyes softened at her harsh words. ‘Yeah, I’m glad I’m alive too,’ he said.
‘I swear to God, I’d have haunted the bloody life out of you,’ she said.
‘Not sure that’s how it works but you’d probably find a way. Doc says the blade just missed my liver. Another two centimetres and I’d be dead. Great bedside manner. Reminds me of someone.’
Kim knew every detail of his injury. She’d interrogated everyone who had gone in and out of the ward. Significant blood loss, intestinal damage, three staples inside and seven stitches outside.
‘But if anything…’
‘Kim, I’m fine. Just a scratch.’
‘Yeah, always the drama queen, aren’t you?’ she said.
‘Yeah, and you’re the fucking Ice Queen,’ he growled.
‘The what?’ she asked, shocked at his language.
He winced. ‘Won’t let anyone in. Won’t tell anyone how you’re feeling. Not even me.’
She was stunned. ‘You’re joking. Is that why you’ve been moody this week?’
He shrugged and winced again.
‘Bryant, we’ll talk about this another time once you’re—’
‘No, we’ll talk about it now, and you can hardly refuse me. You don’t take counselling, you don’t even take Ted’s counsel cos I can imagine how those sessions have been going. So, I wanna know which hook you’ve found to hang your guilt on.’
‘Jesus, Bryant, this isn’t fair and now isn’t the right time to do this.’
‘I know that but I want an answer.’
She thought for a moment. She had to give him something. He deserved that.
‘I couldn’t stop him,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t stop him from making that choice. I should have been able…’
‘I was right there in the bell tower with him and couldn’t stop him. But that’s not it, Kim. That’s not what keeps you up at night. That’s not what haunts you about Dawson’s death.’
Damn him. He was right. It wasn’t.
‘He wanted something from me, Bryant. Something I never gave him. I let him down. He wanted me to tell him he was ready for promotion, and I never did. He was desperate for my approval. I could see it in his eyes, and I still couldn’t say the words. I couldn’t tell him he was ready.’
There. It was out. That’s what kept her up at night. Dawson had wanted to hear her say those words, and she never had.
‘Because he wasn’t, Kim,’ Bryant said, surprising her. ‘You never said it to him because it wasn’t true. The lad had matured a lot, grown a lot, but he wasn’t ready to lead a team, and you knew it. So, whether he’s here or not doesn’t change that fact. You were just being honest.’
And there it was. In all its simplicity, communicated by her friend. He hadn’t said it to take the beating stick from her hand. He’d said it because it was a plain and simple truth that in light of Dawson’s death she couldn’t bring herself to face.
She met his gaze and smiled.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘And don’t go replacing it with this. You couldn’t have stopped this from happening either.’
‘Fuck that,’ she said feeling the cage of guilt begin to slip away. ‘You’re definitely old enough and ugly enough to look after yourself.’
A moment of easy silence settled between them.
‘Just one question,’ Bryant said. ‘Something been bot
hering me all week.’
‘Go on,’ she replied.
‘Zoe and Liz.’
‘Who?’ she asked, frowning.
‘The kids at the children’s home when you were ten. That story you told me when we were talking about Stacey and Penn. The sardines in the bed of the young, new kid. You really just leave them to sort it out themselves?’
Kim laughed out loud. ‘Seriously? What do you think?’
He smiled. ‘I think you kicked her ass into the middle of next week.’
‘Close enough,’ she said, as Stacey tore into the room.
‘Bryant,’ she exclaimed, rushing towards the bed.
She just stopped short.
‘Is it inappropriate for me to want to squeeze you right now?’ she asked.
Bryant laughed. ‘More painful than inappropriate, Stace,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘Squeeze this instead.’
‘Ahem, am I interrupting something?’ asked Woody from the doorway.
Bryant automatically tried to sit up straighter.
He raised his hand. ‘I’m not staying,’ he said, taking a few steps forward. ‘Just wanted to see how you were doing.’
‘I’m fine, sir,’ he said.
‘I’m not sure internal staples and seven stitches is fine, but you’ll live and for that we’re all grateful.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘And Laura has just arrived and will be up with her mum in about ten minutes.’
A smile lit up his face, and Kim knew that for Bryant there was no better medicine than his family.
‘Stone, a word outside,’ Woody said.
Kim followed him to the corridor.
‘Bloody good job, Stone,’ he said, regarding her seriously.
‘Four people died, sir,’ she said, unable to share his joy. ‘And it was Stacey and Penn who found the strand and unravelled it.’
Maybe if she’d been less focussed on the Mancini family she’d have spotted it sooner and less people would have lost their lives.
‘Vanessa Wilson is at the station, right now, giving her statement. Her six-year-old daughter is sitting beside her clutching a small pony. They are emotional, they are shaken up, but do you know something? They’re alive – and that’s because of you and Bryant and Wood and Penn. This day could have ended very differently, and sometimes, Stone, you’ve got to allow yourself to take the good.’
Fatal Promise: A totally gripping and heart-stopping serial-killer thriller Page 27
