‘You’d have to wear something a bit dressier if we were,’ Alex replied with a smile on her face. It was Christmas Eve tomorrow; maybe they could dress up and go somewhere special, and spend the evening forgetting about tonight and just enjoying themselves.
Maggie handed her some champagne; she had given her a smaller measure earlier to calm her nerves. They moved to the centre of the room and clinked glasses. ‘Together,’ Maggie firmly said.
Alex drained her glass and then gazed around the room. Maggie had decorated the mantelpiece with greenery and a magnificent red and gold flower display. A Christmas tree twice as tall as her was decorated with white fairy lights, large muted gold balls and ruby-red teardrops. It was a fine tree, tall and strong and now elegantly dressed, and it reminded her of Maggie Fielding.
‘Together,’ Alex said, borrowing some of her friend’s confidence.
Chapter forty-two
The shoes Maggie had lent her were slightly too big and were pushing her off balance. She’d been standing for five or ten minutes alone in the dark and her body was rigid with tension. If she didn’t move soon she would fall over. The reassurance of Maggie being parked close by was less comforting than she had imagined. It would be impossible for Maggie to rescue her if he decided to knock her down with his car.
She could feel a throbbing in her temple and the slight headache that started earlier was now worse, making her feel nauseous. Too much champagne and not enough food, she realised.
She heard the drone of an engine in the distance and looked over the hospital car park searching for oncoming headlights. A car was turning past a row of parked cars and she was paralysed with fear as she waited for it to get closer.
The sting in her left buttock barely registered, until the same sensation nipped her thigh. The heaviness in her limbs was almost immediate, and a feeling of being punch-drunk whooshed through her. She was seriously lightheaded and felt disconnected from her body.
‘Maggie,’ she cried feebly, desperately feeling for whatever had stung her skin. She had to let her friend know what was happening. Then her understanding of her other night here in this car park became painfully clear. All the sensations that she remembered happening to her: the wave of dizziness buckling her legs and her knees slamming to the ground, a pain to the crook of her neck, a pressure on her mouth, no air, gagging and then .?.?. nothing, were all that she had previously remembered until now. Until this small sting in her leg. She had felt the same sensation on that night as she was trying to exit the department. A scratch against her thigh and the fleeting thought that something had snagged her dress, which she hoped hadn’t pulled a thread in the delicate material. She finally knew how he had abducted her. ‘You were right, Maggie,’ she drunkenly mumbled. Her arm dropped to her side, and then she crumpled to the ground.
Her eyes were still open and her mind still working, but she was unable to call out. She could feel the gravelly ground against her cheek and hear it lightly crunching as footsteps approached. The toe of a dark shoe stopped an inch from her eyes, making it impossible for her to focus on it clearly. She wondered if he would draw back the foot and kick her in the face.
You only pretended to gag me, to confuse my senses, she said bitterly in her mind to the man beside her.
You knew I wouldn’t be believed.
The sting she’d felt in her buttock and thigh told her she was right. He injected me instead, Maggie. He injected me. Oh fuck, please help me.
Chapter forty-three
The incident room was milling with people, still busily making calls and still on a motivated high. On the first day of a murder investigation every effort was made to get a result. Greg glanced at the evidence boards and thought they showed very little results for the work that had been put in that day. But then there wasn’t a lot of information to gather. Merely a suspect to catch.
Alex’s photograph was on the board; a head and shoulders snap that the hospital had given them. She looked incredibly young, and he felt deeply saddened every time he looked over at it.
Officers were still out searching for her; airports, railways and coach stations were alerted. Her car’s description and registration plate were being watched for on the motorways, and of course her photograph had been emailed to every police station in the country.
Laura Best had officers hunting for her throughout the hospital, in case she was hiding there, and any reputation the doctor had left was being eroded fast.
Greg half hoped she was across the Atlantic by now, escaping all these people wanting to catch her. He would like to see Laura bested by her. He would like to see her fly a helicopter again one day. He sighed deeply and wished he were any other place but here.
Moving over to one of the computers to do the job he’d meant to do when he first came into the room, he logged onto the Internet and googled the name Oliver Ryan. There were several hits. He saw the words ‘Black Waters’ and ‘actor’ in one of them and clicked it open.
His mobile rang, and, pulling it out of his jacket pocket, he saw Joe’s name on the screen. He inwardly groaned, realising it had gone ten and he hadn’t rung him as promised. He moved away from the computer, out of earshot of the others, and said hello to his son.
‘You not in bed yet?’ he asked in a surprised voice.
‘I wanted to say goodnight and make sure you’re coming tomorrow.’
‘What’s happening tomorrow?’ Greg asked, deliberately pretending he’d forgotten what day it was.
‘It’s Christmas Eve, Dad!’
Dad? This was new. Joe was losing his babyish language. ‘Is it? Are you sure it’s not the day after? I reckon you’re a day ahead, Joe.’
‘Stop messing, Dad – you know it’s Christmas Eve.’
Greg smiled. He had bought Joe a present that he knew he would love. A remote control helicopter that could hover at twenty feet. He couldn’t wait to see his face when he opened it, and hoped to get over to Oxford the next day to give it to him.
‘Joe,’ he said, turning more serious. ‘I’m not going to promise you, because I can’t, but if it is possible, I will be there.’
There was silence on the end of the line.
‘Do you believe me, Joe?’
‘Yes, Dad.’ His voice had gone quiet and Greg felt riddled with guilt.
‘Good. Now get some sleep, buddy, you’ve got a big day tomorrow. I want you up bright and early to give your mum a hand so that she can put her feet up tomorrow evening.’
‘She’s going out.’
‘Is she?’ Greg asked, very surprised. Sue never went out on Christmas Eve; she stayed at home getting ready for the big day.
He couldn’t help asking where she was going.
‘Out with Tony.’
A knot in his throat stopped him from swallowing. It had to happen sometime. She was a lovely woman and there would be plenty of men out there wanting to date her. He felt an ache somewhere in the region of his chest. His first real love, his wife of ten years, was moving on.