Midnight. And Good Friday became Easter Saturday. And DC Anni Hepburn was still in the hospital.
‘You should go home, Anni,’ Franks had said to her. ‘Get some rest. There’s others can take over here.’
She had given a weak smile in response. ‘I know, boss, but I’ll only be back here tomorrow. And it’ll save me coming up and down the A14 again.’
‘The road to hell,’ Franks said, smiling. ‘Well, OK. Just remember we’re not supposed to be working this case. If something comes up and I need you, you’ve to come down straight away. Leave it to Suffolk.’
She had agreed with him and he had left.
Phil Brennan was out of surgery and resting in a private room. He still hadn’t regained consciousness and Anni hadn’t been allowed in to see him. No need, the doctor had said. He won’t be saying anything for a while.
‘What’re his chances of a full recovery?’
The doctor had shrugged. ‘Depends what you mean. He’s been burnt and may need some grafts, if it comes to that. But we’re hoping it won’t. His head injury wasn’t as serious as we first thought. We’ve relieved the swelling and we’ll keep him under observation in case there’s any sign of embolism or thrombosis. But on the whole, I’m optimistic. We’re keeping him sedated for now. We’ll look at him again in the morning.’
She thanked him and went back to the fold-out bed they had provided for her. But she didn’t get far. At the end of the corridor she heard the squeak of rubber tyres. A wheelchair came round the corner, the occupant pushing it slowly towards her.
It took a while, but Anni recognised who it was. Eileen Brennan.
The woman looked dreadful. All bandages and bruises. Pale skin and deep, dark eyes. She pushed the chair level with Anni.
‘Where is he?’ she said, looking round. ‘They said he was down here.’
‘Eileen? Eileen Brennan?’
Eileen looked up. Anni caught the wildness in her eyes. She wondered what was holding the woman together, what kind of spirit she had.
‘Who are you?’
‘Anni Hepburn. I work with Phil.’
‘Oh.’ Her head dropped as she processed the information. Then back up at her. ‘Is he here?’
Anni gestured to the room, the closed door. ‘He’s in there. But we’re not allowed to go in.’
‘Why not?’
‘They say he needs rest. That he’ll get better without interruptions.’
‘Interruptions.’ Eileen nodded to herself, then looked up and down the corridor, disorientated, as if she had suddenly come round and was surprised to find herself in this place. Didn’t know where she was.
Anni was used to dealing with people. She found a smile. ‘Did they tell you to come down here? Did they give you the chair?’
‘Bet they didn’t.’ Another smile. ‘But good for you.’
Eileen made a noise that started out as a laugh but mutated into a strangled gasp. ‘They said I could see him tomorrow. That I should get some rest. But he’s my son … ’ Her voice became a shallow, brittle thing. Her hands gripped the arms of the chair, trembling. ‘I had to see him. He’s … all … ’ Her body began to shake as the tears welled up and out. Her head dropped as if she couldn’t bear to be seen.
Anni knelt down next to her. ‘Come on, Eileen, let’s get you back to the ward.’ She repeated what the doctor had told her. Eileen looked up, a desperate hope trying to shine through her wet and wounded eyes. ‘You can see him tomorrow.’
‘Really? They … they think he’ll be … ’
‘They’re hopeful. Come on, let’s get you back.’
Eileen allowed herself to be pushed. They talked on the way. Anni felt the measure of Eileen’s loss, her grief.
‘Don’s gone … gone … and I just … I don’t know. I can’t lose Phil as well … ’
‘I know. Well let’s hope we won’t. He’s my boss. One of the few I’ve liked.’
Eileen wasn’t listening. Her grief had overtaken her.
Anni left her at the ward, where a nurse took over, and went back to her own bed. Hoping she would sleep and that tomorrow would be better.
Somehow she doubted either.