My Bloody Valentine (Alastair Gunn) (26 page)

She stood for a while, fingers resting lightly on its surface, staring at the embossed wallpaper on the wall behind it. The pattern was intricate: myriad swirls and spears curling outwards like the surface of stirred coffee, delicate branches spreading down and out, reducing each time like tiny Russian dolls. And, at the centre, holding everything together, the nucleus from which it all grew.

Just like her victim.

John Travis had been a family man. His wife, three daughters, two sons. Parents, cousins, friends; a dozen faces filling the court gallery, every day of Cain’s trial. All staring at the negligent doctor who had taken him away, like the evil protagonist in a sick superhero tale. The fateful words echoed again.

Two mils of pethidine.

Cain sank on to the chair, the growing knot in her stomach making it too painful to stand. She sat forward, cradling her face, wishing she believed in some sort of God.

She pictured her former workplace, the hospital where she’d helped save so many lives. And where, single-handed, she’d cut one so tragically short. She remembered her colleagues’ reactions, the mixture of pity, horror and doubt. But they were nothing compared to the eyes of her victim’s family when she had tried to
explain. They’d been close, that was evident, so Cain had been adamant that telling them herself was the right thing to do. But they hadn’t been able to forgive, not with the enormity of events. The moment had been the worst of her life. A man’s time ended; a family’s trust gone.

She cried into her palms for a few minutes, letting the tears run down her forearms and soak from her elbows into her jeans, realizing that she was no freer now than she had been in Holloway. She would carry this burden for good.

Unless …

With that thought she became suddenly still, an unexpected calm spreading in her chest; the helplessness began to retreat. She
could
affect things; make them better, if never right. She opened the desk drawer, taking out the notepad and pen, still there ten months after she had last contemplated using them. The last time she had sat at the desk.

Trying to write a letter to them.

Her heart pounded, the faces of each Travis family member flashing one by one through her mind. The two that lingered were his sons, young men whose dad had been so cruelly ripped away. She’d never forget them. This thing would never be done; not without forgiveness from them.

Which meant there was only one course of action.

She picked up the pen, turned over the front of the pad.

And then, with sentiments flowing from her like spilled marbles, Amanda Cain started to write.

45

Sodding hospital.

Again.

Hawkins groaned, slumping against the insensitively firm mattress. She had recognized the smell as soon as her eyes had opened a moment ago. A few seconds of staring at the frosted light panel above her head, combined with the realization that she was lying down with no memory of having entered the room, made a glance at the passing nurse mere confirmation. And she was getting really fed up with hospital wards.

‘Hey!’ A familiar American accent came from her right. ‘Someone’s awake.’

Hawkins turned to face Maguire as he arrived at her bedside holding a can of Coke and a pre-packed sandwich. ‘What kind of spectacular damage have I done myself now?’

‘Actually, not much. Luckily, your wounds had sealed so, apart from a few antibiotics and having your stomach pumped, you just needed a damn good sleep.’

‘So that’s why my insides feel like they’ve been borrowed and put back upside down.’

‘Probably.’ Mike laughed. ‘The doctors agree with me, though: you’ve been overdoing it.’

‘Wait,’
she interrupted. ‘I’ve heard this one. The middle and the end are properly whiny, but maybe it’s a grower. Do continue.’

She took his silence as a cue to move on. ‘What hospital is this?’

‘St Thomas’,’ Maguire reported from behind the scowl. ‘Just a five-minute ambulance hop from your improvised pool.’

Unwelcome memories flared, and Hawkins tasted the foul water again, trying to focus on other things. ‘What time is it?’

‘Six a.m.’ He reacted to the immediate look of horror in her eyes. ‘Don’t panic, you’ve only missed fifteen hours, but you’re going nowhere for at least a few days. Doctor’s orders.’

‘We’ll see about that.’ She dragged herself more upright. ‘Where’s Tanner?’

‘Not sure. I’ve been here, worrying about you. Why?’

‘Because I’m in charge of his development. I just want to make sure he isn’t being neglected.’

‘Bullshit. You want to make sure his size elevens aren’t under your desk.’

Hawkins almost told him about Tanner’s threat, but the words caught in her throat. She still needed time to gauge her opponent before deciding on the best way to handle him. If she revealed her intentions without a cohesive plan, she’d end up giving further ground. And, once he was warned, who knew what the devious bastard might do?

‘Look.’
Mike reached for her hand. ‘I know you worry about this stuff, but there’s no need. Steve’s a good guy; he just wants to help out, if you’ll let him. He ain’t after your job.’

‘How do
you
know?’

He shrugged. ‘I asked.’

‘
What?
’

‘We talked. I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d be pissed.’

‘Oh, fine.’ She crossed her arms. ‘Then I’ll just rot quietly in here while you and Captain Altruism look after everything, shall I?’

She turned away in frustration. The silky-voiced arsehole even had Mike dancing to his cheating tune. Meanwhile, she was busy alienating her closest ally and she couldn’t even tell him why. Now, with unadulterated access to the team, Tanner would soon wrestle her prized secondment from her unless she did something about it. But, wherever she looked, Hawkins couldn’t escape the truth: in just four days she’d been outmanoeuvred, overshadowed. Undermined.

Mike leaned in. ‘Come on, Toni, you gotta can this paranoia. Your job’s safe, and you ain’t even supposed to be working again yet. Have some faith in the rest of us, okay? We can cope.’

Hawkins chewed the inside of her lip, mumbled, ‘Okay.’

‘Good.’ He held up his food. ‘Want something to eat?’

‘No,
but you can call Aaron for me. I need to say thanks.’

Mike’s head tilted. ‘For what?’

‘Well, he did sort of save my life.’

‘No, he didn’t.’

‘Yes, he did. If you get swept away, unconscious in the Thames, you’re done.’

‘Oh, you were toast,’ Mike agreed. ‘No doubt about it. I didn’t mean you weren’t saved, just that Sharpe didn’t save you.’

She frowned. ‘Then who did?’

‘Actually, he’s here.’ Maguire flicked his head towards the corridor. ‘Has been all night. Wanted to make sure you were okay. Wanna say thanks?’

She nodded, confused.

Mike walked to the door and disappeared, only to re-enter a few seconds later.

With Lucas Dean.

The hoodie was down as the young black man approached the bed and for the first time Hawkins recognized the face she had previously seen only in his police record. He still looked like a street kid, but a lot of last night’s bravado had gone.

They stared at each other as Hawkins silently pieced events together. Dean had been struggling with Sharpe when she’d fallen over the edge, but the two must then have realized she’d gone. She pictured Sharpe standing at the top of the steps, inept, as the supposed criminal waded in to save his drowning boss.

Dean
broke the silence. ‘Leisha’s sorry, yeah?’

She regarded him. ‘Who?’

‘My girlfriend, the one who pushed you in. She didn’t mean to. She’s sorry.’

‘Oh.’ Hawkins remembered the look of horror on the girl’s face as she’d stumbled towards the steps. ‘Tell her, apology accepted.’

‘Cheers.’ The defensive scowl lifted slightly. ‘You’ll be okay, though, right?’

She shrugged. ‘I’ve survived worse, but thanks for pulling me out. Anyway, why did you run?’

Dean scratched his ear, rattling a diamond stud. ‘After what happened with Jana, and then spending that time banged up, I swore I’d never go back inside. I don’t deal no more, I swear, but the kid I was with still does, a few wraps here and there, even though I’ve told him to stop. That’s why he took off, to save me from getting yanked.’

‘Well, I’m glad you were there.’ Hawkins smiled. ‘But you can’t associate with these people if you’re serious about staying out of trouble. Maybe make some new friends?’

‘He ain’t my friend.’ Dean’s eyes dropped.

‘It’s for the best,’ she said, feeling oddly parental.

‘He’s my brother.’

‘Right.’ Hawkins nodded slowly, remembering why she usually kept such advice to herself. ‘So what now?’

Dean jerked his head towards Maguire. ‘Mike already talked to my parole officer about the sessions I missed.
The other guy’s taking me back this afternoon to sort things out.’

Hawkins was about to ask which other guy when she noticed Aaron Sharpe hovering in the doorway.

Mike took over. ‘I told them this kid risked his life to save a drowning woman, when he could easily have split.’ He clapped Dean on the shoulder. ‘They’re impressed, Lucas. I don’t think anyone will be recommending changes to your existing parole term.’

The kid thanked Maguire, said goodbye to Hawkins and headed for the door.

‘Good.’ She began lifting the covers. ‘Let’s get back to Hendon.’

‘Sorry.’ Maguire sat on the sheets, trapping her. ‘You need rest. And, besides’ – he pointed at her drip stand – ‘you’re wired.’

‘What’s Tanner doing today?’

‘I told you already, I don’t know.’

‘My point exactly.’ She tried to yank herself free. ‘For all you know, he’s out there right now arresting the killer, so I can’t afford to spend
hours
in bed, let alone
days
. Not when he’s after my job.’

‘He isn’t –’

‘Of course he is.’ She pushed him. ‘Shift, you great lump.’

‘No.’ Mike’s tone hardened. ‘For once, you’re gonna listen to me. You leave, the doctors say you risk permanent damage.’

‘Nonsense.’ Hawkins ignored the exhaustion sweep
ing her system. ‘I’ll be fine after some coffee and a burger.’

‘Jesus, Toni.’ Mike stood, his voice rising. ‘This is so typical of you. Fuck the consequences, just get the job done, right? No wonder your life’s so damn empty. Who the hell are you doing it for?’

‘My life is not
empty
,’ she retorted, lowering her volume in response to startled looks from the visitors around the adjacent bed. ‘I’ve got family; I’ve got you.’

‘Maybe, but for how much longer?’

‘Blackmail?’ She snorted. ‘You wouldn’t dare.’

‘Oh, really?’ An ironic grin crossed his face. ‘So who do you think
requested
their transfer to Manchester last year?’

‘I –’ Hawkins froze mid-retort as her brain caught up. Until then she’d never questioned the fact that Mike’s reassignment, three hundred miles north of London, had been an unwelcome surprise to them both. But if Mike had
asked
to be moved, he must have done it before Hawkins had even told her ex-fiancé, Paul, about their affair.

‘ … You
requested
it?’

‘Damn straight I did. And you know why? Because of your crazy, self-destructive attitude. You might not even
be
in hospital if you’d gone to my place on New Year’s Eve when you were meant to. I can’t stand by and watch you flog yourself to death because the job’s all you give a crap about.’

Hawkins’ mouth hung open, but no words came.
She lowered herself into the pillow as Mike started talking again.

‘If I mean a thing to you, Toni, listen, just this once.’ He dug something out of his pocket and tossed it on to the bed. ‘Your phone’s in worse shape than you are after ending up in the river, so I’ll keep you updated on the case using that. But don’t you dare leave this bed, not even to pee, unless the doctor says it’s okay. You got that?’

She stared at him for a second before nodding gently.

‘Good.’ He began backing away. ‘And if you’re right about Tanner, coming back before you can pass for someone fit to be at work will give him the perfect excuse to tell Vaughn you’ve been pushing it too far. And I don’t need to tell you what will happen if he does that.’

He turned and headed for the door.

Hawkins just sat, staring at the Airwave unit in her lap, still thinking about his revelation. Leaving her hospital bed prematurely would damage their relationship for good.

And even
she
wasn’t stupid enough to risk that.

Part Two

46

Hawkins stood alone in the centre of the tiny metal room. It wasn’t obvious when her stomach lurched whether it was in response to the corresponding change of motion or the anticipation of what was about to be revealed by her aptly theatrical exit.

There was a final jerk as the lift settled, then a distorted female voice announced that, however predictable such an outcome might be, the doors were about to open. Only one of the reasons she usually took the stairs.