Matilda spoke at speed as she tore her sleeve from her shirt and used it as a bandage around her bleeding palm. She told Rory to wait in the car with Jodie until back-up arrived. She commandeered his phone and asked him for the pass code. She was already dialling as she ran for his car.
Matilda called for an ambulance to go to Acorn Drive and was told one was already there, thank goodness. She called Christian and told him to put out an alert for Craig Armitage, then to send back-up to Rory somewhere on Stannington Road. He mentioned something about Ranjeet and Ellen, but Matilda had already hung up. She needed to get to Sian and see what condition she was in.
Acorn Drive was lit up with a sea of blue flashing lights. Neighbours were on their doorsteps in dressing downs, standing in their doorways to shelter from the rain, yet eager to see why the emergency services had come to the Armitage house for the second time in less than an hour.
Matilda pulled up on the garden. She could see a hive of activity in the house through the open front door. She jumped out of the car and ran straight into the house and the kitchen.
Sian was on the floor, unconscious. Surrounding her, a team of paramedics worked to stem the flow of blood.
‘Sian? How is she?’ Matilda asked anybody who would listen. She received a few glances, but nobody said anything. ‘I’m DCI Darke from South Yorkshire Police. She’s DS Sian Mills,’ she barked.
‘She’s unconscious, but stable,’ a paramedic said, standing up. She was a small woman with a thin face but looked chubby beneath the layers of uniform she was wearing. ‘She’s got a strong heartbeat, but she’s lost a great deal of blood. We’re trying to stabilise the wound before we transport her to hospital. Are you hurt?’ She asked looking down at Matilda’s hand and the blood seeping through the makeshift bandage.
‘It’s nothing.’
‘Stab wound?’ She asked.
‘Yes.’
‘I want you to come with us in the ambulance. We’ll get you patched up.’
‘Will she be all right?’ Matilda asked, not taking her eyes from her stricken colleague. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes.
‘Providing she remains stable and we get her to hospital quickly, she should be fine. The knife wounds don’t appear to have struck any major arteries or organs. She’s incredibly lucky.’
Matilda visibly relaxed. ‘She really is.’
‘Come and sit down.’
The paramedic led Matilda to a seat next to the table.
‘Oh my God, Riley,’ Matilda remembered.
‘Sorry?’
‘Riley. Where is he?’
‘Who’s Riley?’
Matilda stood up and headed for his bedroom. The door was closed. She didn’t want to open it for fear of what had happened to him.
‘Who’s in there?’ The paramedic asked.
‘A four-year-old boy. He’s severely disabled.’
Matilda placed a hand on the door handle and pushed it down. She opened the door and stepped into the darkness of the room. She couldn’t hear any breathing. There was no ambient lighting or mellowing music playing. She feared the worse.
She scrambled on the wall next to the door for the light switch and flicked the main light on. The room lit up in a brilliant white and both women squinted. The bed in the corner of the room had the side railings raised to stop Riley from rolling out of bed while he slept. They couldn’t see from the doorway whether he was in there or not. Tentatively, Matilda stepped closer. It seemed to take an age to walk less than three feet to the bed. All the while, Matilda listened for any sound of the young boy sleeping, gurgling, snoring.
She took a deep breath and looked inside. Riley lay motionless on the mattress. His face was pale, his eyes wide open, his lips blue.
Matilda felt herself being pushed aside as the paramedic stepped forward and began the futile task of attempting to revive him. Matilda couldn’t take her eyes from the poor boy. There was something otherworldly about looking into the eyes of a dead child. It was an image Matilda would never forget.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said to herself as warm tears pricked her eyes.