The Grave (13 page)

“Can I see him, just for a minute, a second, can’t I just
see him?”  The nurse just shook her head.

“I’m sorry, they have to do their work, you can see him as
soon as he is stable.”

“But, what if he’s not, what if he is never stable, what if
he dies and I haven’t even been able to say goodbye.  Don’t you see I need to
see him now, in case I can’t ever see him again.  Please, please.” 

Sylvie’s small figure shook and trembled and the nurse
looked in desperation at the police woman, out of her depth in the face of such
passion.  She was young and had been sent to do the easy part, deliver tea and
comfort but now she was lost.  The policewoman shrugged and raised her
eyebrows, she knew while Sylvie was in this state it was unlikely they could
interview her successfully and in truth she did understand her need to be with
her man. 

“Is there no chance she could pop in, into the emergency
room, just to see him?”

“I’ll go and see, I’ll find out anyway what is happening, OK?” 
She nodded in Sylvie’s direction and slid through the half open door.

“Sylvie, you need to hang on, they’ll do what they can. 
Hang on love.” 

The door opened and the young nurse beckoned to them.  “You
can pop in for a minute, he is going for surgery but you can just see him
first.  There are a lot of tubes and things and of course he can’t talk, he
hasn’t regained consciousness at all but you can see him.” 

She leaned over and gently patted Sylvie on her blood
stained sleeve.  She had no idea of the horror this person had been through but
obviously it had been extreme and if she could help a little then she felt
better...

He was pale and still, tubes and wires led from beeping
machines and plastic bags.  The sheets were stained red, he was in a thin
cotton gown.  He looked vulnerable and ill, there was a tube down his throat.

“Samuel, I don’t know if you can hear me, I don’t suppose
you can but it’s me, it’s Sylvie.  You’re going to be okay now Samuel and I’m
okay.  I love you.  I’ll be here.” 

They led her away, the sobbing had stopped and she was in
control, the fact he was being looked after and the room had been calm had done
much to reassure her. 

“You can wait in the relative’s room and then, afterwards
they’ll probably take him to the Intensive Therapy Suite and you can pop in and
see him again.  Alright?”

“Yes, thank you.  You’re very kind, I appreciate it. 
Thanks.” …

The sky began to pale and the tiny window was filled with milky
light, they had waited hours for news.  The policewoman had made a couple of
abortive attempts to ask questions but each time Sylvie had simply dissolved
into a sobbing heap.  Her seniors had called her into to the corridor and she
told them there was no point trying to do anything yet.  They had no real idea
what had happened and so no reason to take the girl in for questioning.  She
gave them her thoughts, she didn’t know Sylvie listened, leaning close to the
gap in the door, breath stilled, heart pounding.  Now things were calmer she
had begun to see, she had to act, if she was to be able to save them she needed
to come up with a story that would hold water.

“I’m sorry Sylvie, I don’t understand.  I thought you and
Samuel were married.”  The detective sat on a low, upholstered chair; it had
been dragged across the room to where Sylvie still perched on the hard plastic
seat.  They had asked her to go with them to the police station but she refused
to leave.

“I can’t, I can’t go anywhere.  I can’t leave him.”

Now he was trying to get some information, anything at all
that would help unwind the horror and confusion in the hotel room.  The gun had
been sent away for testing and the ruined body was in the mortuary, everything
picked up and packed up, swept for prints and examined for clues.  They had
interviewed the landlady and all she could tell them was - the young couple
seemed very nice, had paid in cash and she had no idea who the other man was or
how he had got into the hotel unnoticed.  They hadn’t forced her to confront
the carnage that had been his head but she had looked at his clothes and
glanced nervously at the blood stained cloth over his face.  She was tough, a
Liverpool Landlady of the old school but still she had been shaken by what had
happened.

He leaned forward, hesitant, wanting to touch Sylvie’s hand
but knowing he mustn’t.  She was small and forlorn in the blood stained clothes
and her eyes were sore and red looking.  They had told him she had cried and
sobbed, inconsolable at times and unable to talk about what had happened.  He
had to encourage her, she was the only person who could help him.  The doctor
hadn’t been too hopeful about the other man, the one now in surgery.  Very
serious damage to his lungs, possibly his heart, massive blood loss, shock and
so it went on.  They didn’t know what the outcome would be but the prognosis
wasn’t good.

So, either he was sitting with a victim or a murderer or an
accessory to murder or God knew what, he tried again.

“Is Samuel your boyfriend, fiancé, what?”

“I only know I love him.  We haven’t been together long but,
well he said we were married more as a joke, no not a joke, just so I wouldn’t
be embarrassed.  Well you know, we didn’t want any fuss, anything.  Oh I don’t
know, he just did.”

“It’s okay, I guess it happens a lot but we do need now to
have things straightened out.  You do see that?  You’re not in trouble, if you
didn’t do anything wrong you must tell us, all we need to do is find out what
happened.  Samuel can’t tell us.  The other man can’t, so we need you to tell
us.  Was the other man a friend?”

This was where she would need to be careful, she had to walk
on eggshells, there was no story she could tell to show them as innocent.

“I don’t know who he was.  He was in the room when we got
back from town.” 

“Tell you what.  Let’s start right at the beginning.  You
just tell us your name, your real name and Samuel’s.  We know you checked in as
Mr and Mrs Percy.  That’s not your real name?”

She shook her head.

“Is it Samuel’s name?” 

She nodded, it didn’t matter at the moment, his real name,
Carter, was the one she must avoid.  She didn’t know if there were any records
of him but best to err on the side of caution and as he had chosen Percy the chance
was it was safe. 

“Right, so he is Samuel Percy and you are Sylvie?”

He waited, the man in the suit with his booby trapped
questions and his puzzled eyes and tired face.  She stared back at him. 

“Sylvie Rigby.” 

The little statue in the town centre had popped into her
mind, the tiny lost woman.  That was who she was, a lost creature, alone and
friendless. 

“Great, and where are you from Sylvie?”

“Oh, all over the place, I have been in London.” 

“Right, good.  How long have you and Samuel been together?”

As he asked the question shock thudded through her, landing
in her stomach like a rock. It was so little, such a very, very short time.  If
she said it was barely a week they would ridicule her, it would cause more
suspicion.  They wouldn’t understand.  She didn’t understand herself, how could
anyone ever explain it, this attraction, it was deeper than that, a knowledge,
a certainty which defied expression.  Since she had gone with him to the poor
shack and given him her body she had known she loved him totally.  When he had
said he would take her away, after the terrible thing with Phil, she had known
she would go.  Even though she had watched him kill the other man, seen him
blood splattered and wild with violence, she wanted to be with him.  How could
she make them see?  She couldn’t and so would lie and weave a tale, make it
stick and get them out of this.  She would.

“We’ve been together a while, I can’t remember exactly how
long.  A while anyway.  I met him in a bar.  I know it sounds bad but it
wasn’t.  I fell over and he drove me home.” 

Much of it was true, tiny sparks of honesty in the dark web
of subterfuge.  If she could keep it simple and give herself handholds of
accuracy she would climb out of this mess. 

“Anyway then we got together and he brought me here.  We
went out, to look around the town and buy some clothes and then when we got
back that man was in the room.  He had a gun, he threatened us both.”

“Did he shoot Samuel?”

“Yes.”

“How did he get shot, the other man?  There was only one
gun, who shot him Sylvie?”

Now, it was now, this was where it all came crashing down
around her, the end of everything.  She gulped.

“It was me, you already know don’t you, it’s obvious I was
the one.”

“That what Sylvie?  The one that what?”

Trapped, a rabbit in the headlight, petrified.  Her heart
pounded, she couldn’t breathe, her eyes had filled with tears and the room spun
and tipped.  She had slipped and now she was sliding deeper, there had been no
choice there were finger prints, her finger prints.  She couldn’t do this, the
maze closed, there was no way to turn.

“Hey, are you okay? Put your head down.  Take some deep
breaths, keep calm.” 

Someone was touching her, she felt it distant and unreal,
she was bent forward and a hand rubbed her back.  The darkness receded.  For a
long moment she stayed where she was, gaining time, time to think.  She would
have to do this now, would tell them what had happened.  If only her brain
could keep up with her instincts she could force it all to make sense to them and
muddy the waters enough to save him.

She lifted her head.

“I’m okay, sorry I felt dizzy.  I’m okay now.  I shot him,
the other man.  I had no choice, he had already shot Samuel and he was going to
kill me, he said he was going to rape me first.  I thought Samuel was dead, I
don’t remember it very clearly but I know I shot him.  I got the gun from him
and I blew his face off.” 

As the words left her mouth she felt a strange desire to
giggle, hysteria threatened to take over, how would they react, laughing now
when she had just admitted to killing a man.

She stopped, looked at their faces; there was nothing in the
detective’s eyes apart from a sort of resigned acceptance. 

“You shouldn’t really say anymore now Sylvie.  If you are
telling me you shot the other man then you shouldn’t say anymore, you should
have someone with you, a solicitor.”

“Do I have to, can’t I just tell you?”

“Wait, just wait.  I need someone else in here with us, and
I need you to think about what you are doing.  I need to record what you say. 
You are going to have to come to the police station.”

“I’ll tell you about it now.  I don’t want to go away from
here, not until we find out about Samuel.”

“Are you sure?” 

“If you let me stay until I know he’s going to be alright
then I’ll come with you and I’ll do whatever you want and I’ll tell you what
happened.  It wasn’t my fault, I had to do it.”

“Stop, stop Sylvie.  Look we will stay, just until he is out
of the operating theatre and then we’ll go and do this properly.  It’s for your
protection as much as anything.  We have to do this the right way.  For now
though I am going to have to take your clothes.  I’ll go and see what I can get
for you to wear.  I’ll leave Constable Forbes with you but I don’t want you to
talk to her about all of this.  Okay?”

She nodded as fresh tears flooded down her face.  He
couldn’t help it he felt sorry for this scrap of a girl and hoped that when she
managed to tell them what had happened it would be alright for her.  Had she
really done whatever she had done in self-defence, been in mortal danger?  For
now he would simply try and work within the rules and play everything as
straight as he could. 

When the call had come in about a double shooting he had
assumed some sort of drug gang carnage.  Seems he had been wrong, or maybe not,
he knew enough to reserve judgement.  In his mind all the time was the bag from
under the bed, stuffed full of cash.  This was usually a signal of drugs, but
in the room there had been no other sign.  Sylvie didn’t look like a user and
the medical bods had told him there were no drugs in Samuel’s blood.  It
remained to be seen what was in the body of the dead man, there were scars and
a deformed hand but it meant nothing to them yet.

“Here you are Sylvie, I brought you a track suit thing.  I
know it’s not very glamorous but we do need to have your clothes.  We will need
your finger prints as well and I’m sorry but we need a DNA sample.  We can do
it all later when we go down to the station but for now let’s just get your
clothes bagged up.”

She stretched out her hand and took the plastic wrapped
parcel.  Her throat was dry and there was a horrible dead feeling in the pit of
her belly.  This, this fingerprinting and processing was something she had
spent so many years determined to avoid.  She had been aware of it from her
very early years when her father had been taken away over and over and her
mother had started the tedious business of organising representation for him
and pleading his innocence all the time in full knowledge of his guilt.  So, here
she was, her father’s daughter, in the hands of the police, probably going to
jail for a crime far more serious than any that poor useless man had ever encountered
and so it had all come to nothing. 

Why had she bothered to try? All those long years fighting a
past which had proved inescapable?  It was hopeless, but she had to keep on
trying, Samuel was fighting to live she had to try and give him something to
live for.  She took a deep breath. 

“Where shall I change, not here?”  She indicated the little
yellow room, the box of toys in the corner and the collection of picture books
and old magazines.  Such an innocuous little space to witness the intensity of
human life that had surely passed this way.  The quiet room they called it, yet
surely the very walls had been imbued with the sound of lives in turmoil.

“No, no of course.  Can you manage in the ladies do you
think?” 

“Yeah, yeah sure.”

“Constable Forbes will have to go with you, sorry.”

“It’s fine.”  She dredged up a smile for them, made it seem
brave and tremulous, squeezed out a tear or two. 

As they stood to leave the door swung open.  A doctor in his
white coat and the young nurse from earlier took a couple of steps inside. 

“Hi, are you Sylvie?”

He held out his hand.  She couldn’t answer, desperately
trying to read his expression, her eyes flicking back and forth between him and
the nurse.  She nodded.

“I’m Doctor Price.  I’ve been helping to look after your
husband.”

“Boyfriend, he’s my boyfriend.”

Aware of the detective standing beside her she needed to
appear honest, open.

“Oh, right, well anyway we have you as his next of kin.”

Again she inclined her head.  She wanted to hear, didn’t
want to hear, wanted this to be over, couldn’t bear it to be over if the news
was bad.

“Right, well.  We’ve been struggling with Samuel, he was
very badly hurt as you know.  He didn’t help us much.”  Here he smiled.  Silently
she hated his medical humour and understatement.  She could feel nails digging
into the soft tissue on the palm of her hand, still she could only wait, mute
with fear.

“We had to fix his lungs, he’ll probably need more work
later.”

Her vision swum with the relief of it,
more work later,
later, later
. 

“He was lucky, there was very little damage to his heart
from the erm incident itself although the shock did send him into arrest a
couple of times.  He seems pretty fit and so he should recover well from that
part.  There was huge blood loss which gave us a lot of problems.  Anyway, at
the moment he is in recovery and then later when we’re sure he’s stable they’ll
take him to the ITU.  You will be able to see him there, though don’t expect
too much.  We’re going to keep him asleep for now but you can at least pop in
and see him for yourself.

The relief was too much, she knew what she should do was
thank this man, thank him from the very bottom of her soul but her throat had
closed.  Tears gathered there unshed, stole her ability to speak and all she
could do was shake with reaction.  Her knees wobbled and she had to step
backwards, lower herself to the seat and hide her head in her hands. 

“Are you okay?”

The nurse had laid a hand across her shoulder, rubbing
gently bringing some human warmth.

Sylvie nodded. 

“We’ll leave you to calm down a bit but later on if you
think of any questions just ask for me.  It’s been a hard night for all of
us.” 

She heard the door swing back. 

“Doctor.”

“Yes.”

“Thank you, I don’t know how to thank you.”

He didn’t speak, he beamed a bright smile and nodded and
then swept out back into the real world.

“Okay Sylvie, that’s great news, really.  So when you’ve
seen him we can go and get started on sorting this out.”

She turned to look at the detective, relief was smoothing
the lines on his face, there was something else, a purpose to him, a resolve
that hadn’t been there before.  He was ready now to take care of business.  Her
heart slowed, she needed to take stock and to act.  It was time to plan, time
to deal with this and going to the police station, answering questions, giving
them cells from her body and prints from her hands might not be the way. 

“Right.  I’ll go and get changed shall I?”  She gathered up
the package of clothes and turned to the door.