Rain thundered against the window pane of the private hospital room, but the patient lay in peaceful oblivion, hooked up to all manner of drips and monitors. Years of experience had taught Daniels that injuries, particularly ones from road-traffic accidents, often looked worse than they actually were. Even so, she hadn’t expected to see quite as much swelling or bruising on her colleague’s face.
Daniels stood for a while, contemplating the part of the job that every officer loathes, the part where the truth had to be told and told now – irrespective of the circumstances; a task made doubly difficult by knowing the woman personally. How could she justify heaping yet more suffering on Jo?
Did she have the right to hold back?
The report on the accident made scary reading. The attending Traffic officer had found black parallel skid marks snaking across the tarmac, a deep gouge in the embankment where Jo’s BMW had taken off as she swerved to avoid a falling tree. Fortunately for her there was a gap in the drystone wall where it came to land on its roof. Otherwise, according to the experts, the crash would certainly have been fatal.
Daniels sighed.
Bending down, she unhooked a medical chart from the foot of the bed and tried to decipher Thorburn’s scribbles: unconscious when found, confusion on admittance, query cranium bleed, cardiac arrest.
Shaken to the core, but trying to keep a lid on it, Daniels went to the window and looked out over a forbidding sky. She wondered if Jo Soulsby would ever make a full recovery.
‘Took you long enough,’ a croaky voice said.
Daniels spun round and rushed to the bedside, taking Jo’s hand in hers. ‘You scared the hell out of me,’ she said.
Jo attempted a smile. ‘I’m touched you still care.’
‘I’m not sure I should,’ Daniels was in bits, the lump in her throat almost choking her. A single warm tear fell heavily from her right eye and landed on her cheek. She wiped it away with the back of her hand.
‘Don’t start blubbing, Kate. It really doesn’t suit you,’ Jo moaned. ‘My head feels like shit. Would you . . .?’
As Daniels helped her to sit up in bed, the two women came very close physically, locked eyes briefly, a real sexual tension between them – so close and yet miles apart. It was an intense moment, interrupted by Nurse Baker, who looked in briefly. She checked a drip and then disappeared again, smiling at Jo as she left the room.
‘See, it’s not all bad,’ Jo said. ‘You know I’m a sucker for a uniform.’
Daniels didn’t respond.
Jo forced a grin. ‘Then again, you never could handle the competition.’
‘Your sick sense of humour’s still intact, I see . . .’ Daniels pulled herself together, got serious: ‘Your lads are waiting to see you.’
‘Tell them I’ve no cash on me. That’ll send them packing.’
Seeing that Jo was still uncomfortable, Daniels moved to support her body with one arm, while plumping up her pillows with the other. No sooner had she eased her back down than the combined effects of the medication and the effort required just to sit up took their toll. Jo was fast asleep . . .