Shallow Waters (10 page)

30

The silence was deafening, covering the blackness like a shield. I pushed at my eyelids. They refused to open.

         
It started to break apart. Slowly. A heaviness pushed down on me and
cold metal dug against my face. I couldn't make out where I was.
Everything felt disjointed. Sounds began to filter through the
darkness. A soft broken moaning. I concentrated on the sound, grasping
for something solid, and realised it was me.

         
Fragments of shouting. Distant conversation. More shouting. A loud roar
split through my head and senses. Flashes of orange splintered through
the blackness. Too bright. A deep grinding sensation reverberating
through me. It was harsh. I let the darkness protect me and gave in to
it.

The
noise faded in and out like an old style radio being tuned into a
station it couldn't quite catch. Sounds breaking through an empty space
that was sucking at me, pulling me in as I tried to find the right
frequency. I could make out hammering and metal crunching. There was a
pressure, a heaviness across my chest which made it near impossible to
draw breath.

Hurried voices. Clawing hands. Darkness and silence.

Thoughts crumbled around me, pebbles on a beach moving with the tide.

Eventually silence.

31

She
rested the side of her face on the bars, the thin metal rods cool on
her skin. She wrapped her arms around her knees, pulling them up to her
chest. The pain had started to lessen and she wondered about the drink
she'd been given. The break from the pain gave her time to think and
her thoughts turned to her friends. She wondered if they remembered
her.

She
let her mind wander free in this direction. Where did they think she
was? Would anyone miss her? What were they doing? She fingered the
bars. This wasn't an outburst. She wasn't being stroppy. All the things
that used to set her off were meaningless now. Who cared who bought the
latest One Direction song, pencil sharpeners or other gimmicks first,
or who was most popular online. Caring about those things was stupid.

She
wanted to be at home and to never leave the house again. She wished for
her irritating two-year-old sister to poke her and ask for help
dressing up and she'd never say no again. She'd never yell at her to go
away and mum would never have to tell her to have more patience. She
wanted to tell them all how much she loved them. She had always loved
them.

Why
wasn't anyone coming? Didn't they care? Had she been so bad and awful
they didn't even consider looking for her? All better off without her?

She
looked past the bars that confined her, out at her surroundings. She
didn't like it here, she didn't want to be here. She wanted to go home.

32

“So you're in the land of the living, huh.” The statement broke the silence.

The
brightness bounced off the pale painted walls causing me to blink
several times. Aaron stood to the side holding a brown bag like a drunk
in the street. He looked as though he'd been caught stealing out of his
grandmother’s purse. My eyes closed against the glare.

“Unless death is carrying a gin bottle in a sun spot, I think I am.”

“Um,
oh yeah.” He moved to the blinds and drew them across the window,
darkening the room. My eyelids were heavy and a vice seemed to tighten
around my head as I opened them. I raised my hand. Pain shot through my
ribs and took my breath away. I winced and sucked in air. Aaron stood
and watched. He shifted his feet, checked his tie with one hand, then
shoved the brown paper bag at me. I imagined him on his first date and
shut my eyes again.

“Grapes not your thing?”

Blinking,
I took the bag. “Thanks.” I dropped them on the bed. It took a few
seconds for my brain to engage. I hadn't been alone in the car. “How's
Sally?” I asked.

“She's
OK. You've both been battered. The doctor said you've got a concussion
and a couple of fractured ribs. You took the brunt of the impact. Sally
was lifted out of her seat and dumped on top of you. You've been lucky.”

“Tell that to my head.” I put my hand up to my forehead. The action hurt every bone and muscle. I winced.

“Docs say you'll be here a couple of days for observation. Sally will be in longer.”

“What happened, Aaron?”

“Fire guys reckon it looks like a gas explosion. They're spending some time on it. You smell anything while you were in there?”

“I smelled plenty; the place was a refuse site. What happened to Natalie?”

“She survived. Looking at the house, I don't know how she managed it.
It's flattened. It would seem she was in the living room at the front
when the blast went up. She was knocked about and hit by flying debris,
but I think she must have been protected by something to come out
alive. She's pretty smashed up. She's got some burn injuries, a nasty
head injury which the docs are concerned about, broken bones and
internal injuries. They've induced a coma and have tubes breathing for
her. She won't be talking to us any time soon.”

I
hadn't liked Natalie Kirk, but she didn't deserve this. She identified
her daughter in the mortuary today and now she was in a hospital on
life support.

Aaron
stayed long enough to update me on events and then he was gone. I
managed to eat a couple of grapes but nausea swept my insides and I had
a serious itch to get out of there. Rosie, Allison and now Natalie.
What were the connections? What were we missing? I couldn't think
straight in the confines of a hospital bed. I needed to be at my desk
and to read the reports as they came in. Not sat here, waiting for a
doctor to assess me and tell me I was okay. I knew I was okay.

My
thoughts tumbled around. Was the blast at Natalie Kirk's house a simple
gas explosion or was there more to it? Why would anyone target Natalie
if it wasn't accidental? My head started to spin with the questions. A
wave of nausea reared up and hit me hard, I curled myself up on the bed
in an attempt to ease the wretchedness I felt.

"Hannah?"

Superintendent
Catherine Walker stood in the doorway. She looked relaxed. Her feathers
never seemed to be ruffled. I wondered if they ever would be. She was
one of those people you hear described as born leaders. She assimilated
and acted on information received in the blink of an eye, confident in
the knowledge the right decision had been reached. Now I wondered what
this decision was. Catherine Walker wasn't the hearts and flowers type
of boss. She gave rapid sure fire answers to tough questions, but she
didn't do hospital visits.

"Ma'am."
I pushed with my palms on the bed and forced my elbows to lock in an
attempt to get myself up. Queasiness circled inside me. I gritted my
teeth.

She
stepped into the room. "No. Stay still." she pulled a chair from the
corner and placed it at the side of my bed, sitting herself neatly in
front of me as she smoothed her trousers. "How are you Hannah? Really."

Partially
upright I collapsed back on the dozen pillows I'd been provided with
and faced my superintendent side on, well aware I looked far from my
best. "As you'd expect after being thrown over in a car."

The
corners of her mouth turned up, but the sentiment didn't travel to her
eyes. "Take as long as you need to before you come back to work. It's
important you take care of yourself." She clasped her hands on her lap,
never taking her eyes off me.

Oh, that's where this was headed, she was going to try and pull my job from under me.

“I'm fine Ma'am. All I need is a good night's sleep and I'll be back on the case again tomorrow."

She looked at me. I couldn't figure out what she was thinking.

"Hannah,”
She paused, made sure I was listening. “We need to make some progress
with the investigation.  The case has caught the attention of the
national press. And with you laid up injured the team has no direction.
I need someone to pull this in and you need time to heal." She paused a
beat, her eyes never left me. "I'm sorry. Anthony is taking over as SIO
for now."

I'm
not sure why she bothered with the sorry sentiment. I wasn't sure she
had been sorry about a decision in her life. She weighed up the options
and implications and worked with what she had. "What? No! I'm fine. I
know this case. I know these kids. There's a link between them. I'm
learning who they were and what their lives were about and that
knowledge will lead us to whoever is killing them. You can't yank me
off it this way." I was more forceful than I would have been had we
been in the office. I imagined the bravery came from the drugs the
hospital had given me. She let it slide.

"You
do know the kids Hannah, and you're the best person for the job. I
don't like to change SIOs in the middle of an investigation, but you're
in no fit state to continue with it. When you come back we'll speak and
assess your ability to carry on. I need someone focused on the
investigation.” She stood. “I also need to take care of my officers.
Okay?"

I
nodded. She was impossible to fight once her mind had been made up. I
had to choose my battles with care. I would get this job back. It was
my case and I would finish it for Rosie and Allison.

"Feel better soon, Hannah," she said as she turned on her heel.

33

The
was a gentle hum of nurses going about their work behind my door,
squeaky wheels of medicine carts, mellowed toned phones ringing, the
chatter of soothing voices and stern commands for those not quite
compliant patients. I felt comforted by these sounds as I awoke. It was
dusky. The daily routine of the ward reminded me that life was on-going
and I was still a part of it. It felt good. Now, I needed to give my
survival meaning and that meaning was to secure the arrest of the
monster in our city before he had chance to strike again.

I
turned to the cupboard at the side of my bed to get my phone and saw a
neat little bear and in between its paws sat a small box of chocolates.
It was adorable. Not huge and overbearing like the ones you see when
women have children, and massive two foot bears, balloons and little
white knits take over the room, it was neat, organised and presented. A
crisp white card was held in the ribbon wrapped around the chocolate
box. Pain made me flinch as I reached over to pick it out. The
inscription read:
Ethan x.
So
Ethan had been in? Or had he sent the bear by delivery? Without knowing
how long I'd been out of it, I didn't know if I had missed any
visitors. It annoyed me. I was awake when Catherine Walker deemed it
acceptable to remove me from my position as I lay in my hospital bed,
but not when Ethan comes in. It was a fucked up day.

My
musings reminded me Natalie Kirk was in this hospital somewhere.
Attached to tubes, with her life supported by machinery. The woman had
been through enough. I felt bad for her.

I
shifted my feet, pushing them out from under clean white sheets and
waited a moment, wondering if one small action would scupper me, but I
was OK. I pushed round with my body until I was upright and gingerly
dropped to the cold vinyl floor. The hospital gown gaped around my
rear. I pulled at the ties to protect what little dignity I had. I felt
weak and drained as I shuffled out of my room towards the nurses’
station. It reminded me of a bee hive my father used to keep, lots of
activity that looked like complete discord. It took a while for someone
to notice I was there. They were busy. Ten minutes passed and after
admonishments that I should be in my own bed, I was given directions to
Natalie Kirk in ICU

She
looked so doll-like. Her tiny frame was hidden by a vast expanse of
starched white cotton, stamped with the hospital logo and draped across
her. A ventilator chugged up and down, pumping the very breath into
her. Wires and tubes snaked away from her body to monitors that were
softly beeping. Natalie Kirk was alive, but only just.

34

Rain
fell from the dark sky, small shallow drops. The grey flat frontage of
Central police station rose ahead of me. I sheltered under the cover of
the YMCA building on Shakespeare Street, watching as pedestrians walked
past, uninterested in the stranger on the path, their obvious intent to
move to their destination before the rain became worse.

I
took a deep breath, winced with the action and steeled myself. This
wouldn't be easy but I had to do it. Zipping my coat up under my chin,
I pushed my hands down into my pockets. I really did need to buy some
gloves. Two uniformed cops ran into the front yard of the station. No
sooner was the driver in than blue lights were flashing and the vehicle
was moving out of its position and turning right onto the road. 
Life still went on, no matter whether I was here or not. But I
preferred it if I was. Everything had a different feel. There was a
sense that I'd have to fight for my place, my role. The explosion had
the effect of bringing more clarity. I couldn't move without wincing
but I wanted to get back to work. We had a child killer to bring in. I
had to fight the pain and keep going.

The
nursing staff hadn't wanted to release me. It had taken a good portion
of the day to get discharged. The doctor prescribed painkillers for my
ribs and gave me a head injury leaflet and a list of medical issues,
that, should they occur, ought to bring me straight back to the ward. A
nurse wrote the ward telephone number on the leaflet and told me I'd
have access for the next forty-eight hours. After that I needed to go
through Accident and Emergency again. I'd swallowed two pills and then
left. They couldn't do anything else for me, but there was a lot I
could achieve, out here on the investigation.

It
was early afternoon by the time I got home by taxi. I checked my phone,
which had miraculously survived the blast in my pocket. Fifteen missed
calls. Evie had made four, a couple were from my Dad, but the majority
were withheld numbers. They were probably work calls, before the
explosion. The taxi waited for me as my car was still parked here at
work. A five minute shower and change and soon enough I was here. I
felt in my pocket for the painkillers and relaxed when my fingers
touched the plastic corner of the blister pack.

I
had to go in and fight for my role as SIO. I knew more about this
investigation than anyone. I had to fight for the respect of my team. I
didn't want to go in and be looked at with sympathy. I had to go in
there and take it over and deal with the team up front. With two
children already dead and little in the way of leads, we had to work
harder. I would work harder.

I
walked to the rear of the building and let myself in through the secure
doors where the wide, old, concrete steps wound their way up through
the building. The ceilings were high and I always felt comfortable in
here. Its battered but large and familiar framework gave me a sense of
home. I took the two flights I needed, stopping every few steps for
breath as my ribs directed their objection at me.  Finally on the
floor I needed I turned right instead of left to the incident room. I
had a meeting with Catherine Walker scheduled. I had some red tape to
cut through before heading back to my team. I wondered how receptive
she'd be to having me back. She had seen an opportunity to replace me
and she'd taken it, but I couldn't see a reason for her continued
resistance. It would look petty and she was too shrewd to allow herself
to look petty. So I would face the music and see how she would react.

"Ross,
where are those witness statements I asked for an hour ago?" Aaron
shouted across the incident room. I pushed the door open. The noise of
a busy working office halted. All eyes turned to me.

"Glad to see you're hard at it and you've not decided to have a few days off in my absence."  

Ross
grinned. "Welcome back, boss." I got the impression I was a welcome
distraction from Aaron whom, I imagined, had tried hard to keep the
team motivated while I was gone, but didn't quite hit the right note.

"Thanks
Ross. It’s good to be back." And it was. The pain I felt from my ribs
was distracting to the point of overwhelming, but the hospital had
provided me with some pretty good painkillers so I felt confident that
I could cope.

“Thank
God you're back,” Aaron said, rubbing his eyes where dark shadows had
now formed and taken a deep hold. A look that didn't suit him and one I
didn't often see on him.

“Glad to see I've been missed. I need to see Anthony first, but then we'll have a team briefing and see where we're up to.”

He nodded and leaned back heavily in his chair releasing a deep breath of air.

I flicked the switch on the kettle before going to find Grey and hoped someone would take the hint.

Grey was hunched over his desk, a frown creasing his face, shoulders tensed. A cold coffee sat neglected in front of him.

"Sir?" He looked up, bemused by the familiar but unexpected sound of my voice.

"Hannah, It's so good to see you," he gushed before he could stop himself. He stood quickly, "How are you?"

"Thank
you sir, I'm good.  A bit sore, but I have all my faculties so I'm
ready to go. I spoke with Catherine.” Grey raised an eyebrow “I'm to
see how I get on. She's sending you an email to that effect. That you
need to keep an eye on me." I grimaced at the thought I needed a
babysitter during the investigation.

“I'm
glad you're back.” He looked desperate to let go of the case and being
told to watch over me in an email with a paper trail wasn't his idea of
letting go of the job. If it ended badly then the lead officer was
going to be under immense scrutiny and Grey worried about his career.
If this didn't go well, it would leave an ugly stain. 

“The
case has hit the national press as you'd imagine. They're screaming for
answers. Wanting to know what actions we're taking to make sure our
kids are safe. They're building up a real furore. The Chief's not happy
and he's being pushed down in London. This one is being watched from
the top down, Hannah.”

It
would be. I'd never seen murders in such quick succession, particularly
ones where we had no inkling of possible offenders. Grey was feeling
the pressure.

“What do we have then?” I looked down at his desk where an open fire report sat.

Grey
sat in his chair again. I followed suit and sat opposite. He picked up
the preliminary report and talked me through the main points. “The seat
of the blast was in the kitchen, an old gas oven which, they state, had
to be at least ten years old. It looks as though the ignition was
created when Natalie did something to generate a spark. Like lighting a
cigarette maybe.” He looked up from the paper he was scanning “Did she
smoke?”

“Like a chimney.”

He
nodded and continued “Or flicking a light switch or turning something
on at the plug. The fire investigators are suspicious of it and have
requested forensic support.”

“It
doesn't make sense. Why would someone kill two young girls then cause
an explosion at the home of one of the child's parents?”

“Quite.” He put the paperwork down. “The PM has been done on Allison.”

My 
body tensed. It was unreasonable, but I felt remorseful, that I'd
somehow let her down by not being there. I tucked a stray strand of
hair around my ear.

“Allison
was generally fit and well. No signs of alcohol or drug abuse and she
was adequately nourished. From the evidence gathered at both PM's Jack
feels the deaths of Allison and Rosie Green are linked.” He reviewed
his notes. “The anomaly is that there were no old bruises on Allison,
only new ones. It doesn't look as though she was being hurt over a
period of time, but that final day, she took a real pasting.” Grey
looked back up at me. “The assault was furious, Hannah. There were
bruises everywhere but on her face. What links the girls is that the
same pattern is present on Allison's neck as was on Rosie's. It's
identical. If we find the item used as a weapon, then we can match it
up to the marks around the necks of both girls.”

“Right,
so all we need to do now is find an offender who has murdered a girl
from Norwich as well as a local child and potentially set circumstances
to create an explosion at the girl's house after the event.”

“Not an easy job,” he acknowledged. “But I have faith in you and your team.”

As I left Grey's office, I wondered about the lack of conviction he put into his last words.