KATE AWOKE TO find she had another visitor – though this one was a lot more than welcome.
Hayden Lewis had parked himself in the chair beside her bed, hair awry as usual and the frayed collar of his shirt crumpled by the V neck of a baggy sweater.
‘Hi, Kate,’ he greeted and smiled a little uncertainly. ‘’Fraid your car’s a bit of a write-off, old girl, but you’re OK, which is the main thing.’
‘The car’s the least of my worries,’ she said, thinking of Callow. ‘I had a visit from our lovable DCI earlier.’
Lewis whistled. ‘What, the “Wicked Witch of the North” doing welfare? That must be a first.’
‘It was no welfare visit. She was in interrogation mode.’
‘Don’t I know it,’ he said ruefully. ‘Had me in a couple of hours ago. I got quite a grilling.’
‘You were grilled? Whatever for?’
He shrugged. ‘She knows we’re – er – friends and suggested I might know why you were in the area of the crime scene when you had your TA.’
‘You didn’t tell her anything, did you?’
He looked horrified. ‘What do you take me for? As I told you before, if it gets out that I caught you sneaking around Duval’s place and didn’t report it, I’m in very deep poo.’
‘I’m hardly likely to say anything, now am I?’
He gave a weak grin. ‘Well, that’s a relief anyway. So, how are you feeling?’
‘Rough.’
‘Hardly surprising really. It was a bad accident and you were lucky my relief came by and found you in time.’
‘It was no accident, Hayden,’ she said. ‘I was run off the road by the same arsehole who blasted the Transit.’
His jaw dropped. ‘What? Oh come on, Kate, how can you possibly say that?’
She tried to wriggle up into a sitting position, riled by his incredulity, but gave up when the pain in her head and ribcage started again.
‘Hayden, it was the same Land Rover.’ she grated. ‘You must believe me. Someone is trying to shut me up for good.’
He snorted. ‘Someone, Kate?’ he echoed. ‘Surely you’re not still hung up on this idea that Terry Duval is innocent?’
She forced herself up on to one elbow, gripping his wrist tightly with her other hand. ‘Hayden, I saw the driver this time. He had a beard. He was nothing like Duval.’
Lewis ran his fingers through his hair in a gesture of frustration. ‘But – but even if you are right in what you say,’ he countered, ‘why would anyone want to kill you? You didn’t get the number of the Land Rover when the Transit was targeted and you said you couldn’t describe the driver, so you’re hardly likely to be seen as much of a threat to anyone.’
‘Maybe the killer doesn’t know that, or just isn’t taking any chances.’
‘Fine, but whether he is or he isn’t, if you didn’t get the number of the Land Rover in the first place, how can you know it was the same vehicle that ran you off the road this time?’
‘You’re beginning to sound like Callow, Hayden,’ Kate snapped. ‘But I’ll tell you what I told her – I would know that wagon anywhere.’
Lewis hesitated, choosing his words carefully. ‘Listen, Kate,’ he patronized, ‘you’ve been through a lot lately, but don’t you think you’re seeing things that aren’t there? You were involved in a non-stop RTA, nothing more than that, and the driver probably didn’t stop because he was over the limit.’
But Kate was no longer listening; something far more important had thrust itself into her mind like the point of an icy needle. Duval. What about Duval? And what about the note she had slipped into her coat pocket with her mobile? What if it had fallen out or been found by someone else?
‘My clothes, Hayden,’ she said urgently, trying to pull back the sheets, ‘where are they?’
He placed a restraining hand on her wrist. ‘Steady, old girl. You’re in no fit state to get up yet.’
She pulled her hand free, ignoring his concern. ‘Hayden, I said, where are my bloody clothes?’
He flinched, taken aback by her aggression, and nodded towards a slim wooden locker next to her bedside cabinet. ‘In – in there I expect. Hospitals usually—’
She clutched at the sides of the bed as her head swam. ‘Will you please check?’
He looked shocked. ‘Check your clothes? I – I can’t do that, Kate. It’s not right.’
She closed her eyes tightly for a second, her own frustration showing. At any other time she would have found his old-fashioned sensibilities endearing, but right now they irritated the hell out of her. ‘I’m not asking you to wear my bloody bra, Hayden,’ she said heavily, wincing as a sharp stabbing pain now lanced through her head and neck again. ‘Just take a look, will you?’
With an unhappy frown, he stood up and crossed to the locker, opening the door as if he believed it might suddenly explode in his hand.
‘What’s inside?’ she demanded.
He flushed with obvious embarrassment. ‘Just a pair of trousers, a sweater and – and other … sort of undie things.’
Nothing else? She felt a stab of apprehension. ‘So what happened to my leather coat?’
He shut the door in the manner of someone closing the covers of a dirty book. Suddenly he was back in his comfort zone. ‘Ah that. You should have said. Sorry, but I seem to remember it got badly ripped when the fire service had to cut you free. It must have been left in the car.’
She stared at him aghast. Left in the car? ‘And where’s my motor now?’
‘Jury’s Yard at Bridgwater. They’ll hang on to it until you sort out disposal with your insurance company.’
‘Hayden, I’ve got to get out of here – fast.’
He looked annoyed. ‘Don’t be silly, Kate. Hospital will want to you keep you in under observation at least until tomorrow.’
‘Bugger the hospital,’ she retorted and, rolling over on to one elbow, swung her legs over the edge of the bed and forced herself up into a sitting position, fists clenched and face contorted in a fierce grimace as she waited a few seconds in the hope that the nausea and eroding pain would subside.
He gaped at her in disbelief. ‘Kate, it’s a coat! For goodness’ sake, it’s only a coat.’
But she took no notice and, levering herself up off the bed, swayed past him to her locker, where she paused with one hand on the metal door and her head leaning weakly against her forearm. ‘Hayden, you’re very sweet,’ she said with an effort, ‘but I am going to get dressed, so would you mind leaving.’
He shook his head defiantly. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I can’t let you do this.’
She closed her eyes again for a few seconds, feeling too ill to argue the point. ‘Suit yourself then,’ she breathed and, pulling her nightdress up over her head, tossed it on to the floor and reached into the locker for her underclothes.
Lewis simply stood there, transfixed, unable to take his eyes off her slim naked figure.
‘Kate,’ he protested finally when he managed to find his voice. ‘This - this is just not on. I mean …’
‘Told you to leave, didn’t I?’ she muttered, pulling her sweater over her head with great difficulty and stumbling back against the locker before managing to regain her balance. ‘Now, you can take me to Jury’s.’
Lewis shook his head again. ‘Jury’s? Not a chance.’
She studied him for a moment, her leather boots in her hands. ‘Then I’ll get a taxi.’
He stepped in front of her. ‘You’ll have to get past me first,’ he said.
Her jaw hardened. ‘You can’t stop me, Hayden, and if you try, I’ll scream the place down.’
The flush drained from his face and there was panic in his eyes. ‘Don’t you dare,’ he exclaimed. ‘No one even knows I slipped in here.’
Lewis capitulated with a groan. ‘OK, OK,’ he said hastily. ‘I’ll take you there, damn it – as if I’m not in enough trouble over you already.’
For the first time there was a hint of mischief in her blue eyes. Straining on tiptoe, she grabbed his arm to steady herself and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. ‘Thanks, Hayden, I owe you.’
He nodded, the sulks still written into his expression. ‘Let’s just get out of here, if we’re going,’ he growled. ‘That bitch of a DCI might decide to come back.’
She glanced down at her bare feet and slapped her boots into his chest. ‘Then you’d better help me on with my socks and boots, hadn’t you?’ she replied.