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Chantelle didn’t get far. The fences were in good order and she was in no condition to stand, let alone resist being taken into custody for her own safety. She slumped to the ground looking awfully pale, her right cheek so badly swollen it had forced her eye shut. Dried blood covered a shocking pink scarf wrapped loosely around her right wrist and her fingers were twice their normal size.
‘Get her in the car,’ Daniels ordered. ‘On second thoughts, ring the General, Hank. Let them know we’re on our way.’
‘No chance!’ Chantelle pulled away. ‘I’m not going to hospital. That’s the first place Lucy will look. She knows I’m hurt.’
‘No arguments, Chantelle. You need emergency treatment. You could die of septicaemia.’ As Gormley turned away to make the call, Kate helped the girl to her feet. ‘Quit struggling, will you! You’re coming whether you like it or not. No, listen to me!’ Chantelle went limp. She’d finally run out of steam. ‘That’s better . . . you’ll be completely safe, I promise you. You’ll get police protection and a safe house if necessary until we make an arrest. If Laidlaw comes within half a mile of the hospital we’ll be waiting there to lock her up.’
Emotionally exhausted, Chantelle began to weep.
‘Come here . . .’ Daniels embraced the girl, hugging her gently as her tears turned to sobs. She was in a bad way and Kate was determined to catch the sadistic cow responsible. But first she needed to get Chantelle some help. Shushing her, trying to offer reassurance, she said: ‘Lucy can’t hurt you now. Can you walk or d’you want the “fat fucker” to carry you?’
Chantelle managed a weak smile. ‘I can walk.’
‘That’s the way.’ Daniels returned the smile. ‘Come on, we need to go.’
The DCI looked worriedly over her shoulder as the car sped up Condercum Road, then right on to the West Road towards the city’s General Hospital. Chantelle was lying asleep across the back seat of the Peugeot, cradling her bad arm on her stomach. Her knees were bent, her eyes shut, her breathing laboured. Getting her to the car had proven more difficult than either of them anticipated. Hank had picked her up and carried her the last few metres, laying her gently on the seat, suspecting broken ribs.
Chantelle stirred.
‘Lucy’s living in the Turnbull Building. I’ve been following her for days. Stupid, aren’t I?’ Wincing in pain, she forced her eyes open. Her right eye was blood red, no white visible. She tried to sit up but Daniels told her to lie still. She looked absolutely wrung out. ‘Promise me you’ll get her. I wanna go home and feed Rooney, my cat.’
‘We’ll collect him, don’t worry,’ Daniels said. ‘Was Lucy with anyone else?’
‘Didn’t see anyone.’
‘OK, let’s get you sorted first and then we’ll look into it.’
Turning away, Daniels rang Brown. ‘Andy, we’ve got Chantelle and we’re en route to the General. Send someone to meet us there to guard her while she receives treatment. I doubt she’ll be discharged today, but if she is I want her taken to a safe house until further notice, understood?’
‘Yep. Anything else?’
‘No, yes. Is Lisa about?’
‘She’s right here.’
‘Tell her to find out as much as possible about the interior of Turnbull Building . . .’ Daniels didn’t need to tell him which building it was. Like everyone else in the area, he knew the landmark well. A Grade II listed former Victorian printworks, it had been converted years ago and was now one of the most prestigious addresses in the heart of the city centre. At the entrance lodge of the hospital, she waved ID at the security guard as they drove through. ‘I want a floor plan, if she can manage it. I’ll explain when I get back. And get someone over to Chantelle’s place to find and feed her cat. It goes by the name of Rooney.’
Daniels hung up feeling a real sense of excitement. Gormley felt it too, by the look of him.
Laidlaw would have seen the news. In the past twenty-four hours, her face had been splashed over every TV screen and newspaper. She’d be keeping a low profile for sure, biding her time until she could make a run for it. But investigators from the murder squad not only knew who she was, they knew where she was, if the information from Chantelle Fox was correct. Their suspect had no idea that they were on to her location and that gave them the upper hand for the first time since the enquiry began.
Game on, Daniels thought.