Daniels looked around the room. Maxwell appeared to be working away quietly for once, his warrant card sticking out of his computer. She wandered over, taking in the soft-porn magazine he was doing his best to hide.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when she spoke to him:
‘Neil, the Tactical Support Group are whining for some PDFs. Nip down to Admin and get some, will you?’
She didn’t need any personal descriptive forms. It was just a ploy to get rid of him.
A smirk appeared on his face as he moved off probably thinking he’d got one over on her. What he didn’t know was, she was about to do the same to him. As soon as he was out of sight, she took his seat and began searching the vehicle index. She had to work fast, scrolling down quickly, keeping one eye on the door for him coming back.
Her mobile rang again. She pulled it out of her pocket and gave her name, placing her elbows on the desk, supporting her chin with one hand, holding the phone to her ear with the other. Her eyes fixed on the screen – flitting here, there and everywhere – as she listened intently to the caller.
Shit!
She hung up and left the building without a word to anyone.
She decided to skirt the city rather than risk getting stuck in traffic, approaching the West End from the south side of the river. It took her a few miles out of her way but it was the right move. On the Gateshead side of the Tyne, she picked up speed, eventually turning right, crossing back over the river on the Redheugh Bridge.
On the north side of the river, Daniels turned left, headed up the West Road for a mile and a half, passing a sign for NEWCASTLE GENERAL HOSPITAL. A block further on, she turned right into the hospital grounds, screeching to a halt in a spot marked: AMBULANCES ONLY. She got out of the car and raced to the main entrance, quickly searching the information board before approaching the lifts. Her eyes darted back and forth between the two digital displays, but the lifts were taking too long, both stuck on the floor above.
Entering the stairwell, she took the stairs two at a time with her heart thumping out of her chest, the smell of disinfectant hitting her subconscious like a brick, transporting her back in time. Two floors up, she lost herself in the narrow hospital corridors, blindly running this way and that with no apparent goal in mind – even less direction. Then suddenly she was still.
The sign directly above her head pointed to the chaplaincy.
Disorientated, she walked on to a ward . . .
A priest was standing over a bed, administering the last rites. The person in the bed was a sick, pale version of Daniels herself.
‘Mum?’
The priest spoke softly: ‘Cleanse in thine own blood the sinners of the whole world who are now in their agony, and are to die this day.’
Daniels let out a scream, ‘NO!’
But all she could hear was silence.
The priest didn’t lift his head or stop praying. Her mother appeared to be sleeping peacefully. Daniels didn’t want him there, neither of them did. They weren’t ready for the end. Never would be. She grabbed the priest by the lapels, physically ejecting him from the room. His God allowed the innocent to die . . .
‘Detective Chief Inspector Daniels?’ When she got no response, Nurse Baker repeated herself. ‘DCI Daniels?’
Daniels was staring at an empty bed, faintly aware of a woman’s voice. She turned towards it as echoes of the past slowly began to subside. She could breathe again, pulled herself together and held out a trembling hand.
‘That was quick!’ the nurse said, shaking hands. ‘I hardly had time to put the phone down. Come this way.’
They entered a room no bigger than a police cell. As they walked in, Daniels eyed a pile of case notes on the desk, got out her notebook and wafted it in front of her face.
‘Do you think I could have a glass of water?’ she said. ‘It’s really hot in here.’
‘Tell you what,’ the nurse said, ‘how about a nice refreshing cup of tea instead?’
Daniels nodded. ‘That would be great, thanks.’
‘I’ll let Mr Thorburn know you’ve arrived.’ Nurse Baker left the room.
The moment the door closed behind her, Daniels was on her feet searching the case notes, but the file she wanted wasn’t there. Cursing, she sat back down and waited impatiently for the nurse to return, her eyes eventually coming to rest on a tray of case notes stacked neatly on a shelf by the door, the name of the consultant pinned to the wall above it. Daniels leapt to her feet. Jo Soulsby’s file was on top. Reaching for it, she stepped away again when suddenly the door opened and the nurse backed into the room with a tray of tea and digestive biscuits.
‘Sorry it took so long,’ she said. ‘No milk, as usual. Had to borrow some from the canteen. Mr Thorburn is with a patient. He’ll be along shortly.’ She handed Daniels a mug of steaming tea. ‘Can I help in the meantime?’
Daniels sat back down. ‘How badly injured is Jo Soulsby?’
‘Hard to say. She sustained a nasty bang to the head.’
‘Can I see her?’
‘If it was up to me, you could . . .’ Baker looked unsure. ‘I think you’d better speak to her consultant first.’
Daniels cleared her throat. ‘She will survive?’
‘Oh, she’ll live, all right.’ The nurse teased her hair round her index finger, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘CT scan shows no permanent damage. She has a convenient loss of memory, if you know what I mean.’
Daniels was irritated. The woman was acting like a newspaper hack protecting an exclusive. She half expected her to wink and tap the side of her nose.
‘What makes you say that?’
The nurse was off again, leaning forward, dropping her voice a touch, hyping up the intrigue. ‘They all do it.’
Daniels brow creased. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Drunk drivers,’ Baker said curtly. ‘Want my opinion, you should lock her up and throw away the key.’
Now Daniels was really rattled. ‘So, you’re not only a nurse but judge and jury too – very impressive. Well, for your information, Jo Soulsby is a colleague and a friend, so maybe you’d like to keep your opinions to yourself.’
Before the nurse had time to back-pedal, Daniels’ mobile began to vibrate. She took it from her pocket, flipped it open and stood up.
Baker bristled. ‘You’re not really supposed to—’
Daniels held her hand up to silence her. ‘What is it, Andy?’
Brown sounded excited on the other end of the line. ‘I found her,’ he said.
‘Hang on a minute . . .’ Daniels left the office and shut the door behind her. ‘OK, go ahead. But hurry up, I’m busy.’
‘Jo’s vehicle was involved in an accident yesterday afternoon. She’s in the General. I’m on my way over there now.’
Daniels stopped dead in her tracks. ‘No! Stay put, I’m in the area. Anyway, it might be more appropriate for a female to respond.’
Brown sounded deflated. ‘You sure?’
‘Yeah, I’m on it.’
Silence.
Daniels could almost hear him sulking on the other end. Before he had a chance to start whining, she ended the call and walked back to the nurse’s station. Baker still had a face like a smacked arse. There was no time for small talk.
‘I need to speak with Jo Soulsby’s consultant now,’ Daniels said. ‘Can you get him for me please?’
Baker was just reaching for the phone when the door opened and a doctor in a white coat entered. Thorburn was an unattractive man, at least a foot shorter than Daniels, arrogant and with an unfriendly attitude. He was standing ever so slightly on his toes to gain a little height.
‘Mark Thorburn, neurologist. You wanted to see me?’
‘DCI Daniels.’ Thorburn’s palm was cold and clammy. ‘Thank you for seeing me at such short notice. I know you must be busy.’
‘How can I be of assistance?’
Daniels wiped her hand on the side of her jacket, hoping he hadn’t noticed.
‘I need your assessment of Josephine Soulsby’s condition,’ she said.
‘I’m afraid I can’t divulge that.’ Thorburn folded his arms across his chest. ‘I have to respect patient confidentiality, Detective Chief Inspector. And not just because of the compensation culture in this country – though clearly patients feel justified in suing doctors if they so much as breathe on them these days – but because it’s written clearly in black and white in hospital regulations. Much like the rules that bind you, I imagine.’
Here we go. Daniels fought the temptation to grab the pompous arsehole by the lapels and do him for wasting police time. ‘So you’ve no objection to me telling Ms Soulsby that her ex-husband and father of her children is now a murder statistic.’
Thorburn raised his bushy eyebrows a notch, pushing his specs a little further up the bridge of his nose. He glanced sideways at Baker, who looked as though she was having more fun than she’d had in years. Daniels wondered how long it would take her to spread the word.
‘That doesn’t change things,’ Thorburn said.
‘I beg to differ. It changes things considerably. Nurse Baker here tells me Ms Soulsby has suffered memory loss.’
Thorburn’s reaction was predictable. He scowled at Baker, who immediately went scarlet and began examining the floor tiles. Daniels didn’t give a damn that she’d dropped the nurse right in it. She had her own job to do.
‘Will she get it back?’ she asked.
‘She regained consciousness within hours, so that’s always a good sign.’
‘You didn’t answer my question.’
‘The prognosis is favourable,’ he intoned, adding that he could never guarantee a full recovery. He spoke in terms Daniels didn’t fully understand. It was like hearing a medical science lecture. As her eyes glazed over, he took the hint and stopped talking.
‘Thank you. Now, is your patient fit to be informed of the death or not?’
The neurologist wound his neck in. ‘I assume you’ve spoken to her sons?’
‘We’re still trying to locate them. I understand that neither is in the area just now.’
‘Then your intelligence is flawed.’ A smug, almost triumphant, expression flashed across Thorburn’s face as he spewed out the last word: ‘They just left.’