‘Tom?’
Carter could see the dark shape of his friend desperately throwing himself against the jammed door. He staggered to his feet and stared up, aghast. Carter could see Tom clearly, silhouetted against the bright light coming from the interior of the cabin. He stepped back, his jaw slack and his eyes unblinking. It wasn’t just light, it was flames. Tom’s gentle face was now twisted in anguish.
With a cry, Carter started forward and tried to claw his way back up to the closed door. He forgot his pain in his struggle to get back to his friends.
The blast denied him even that.
*
At dawn the next morning, Carter McLean awoke and tried to ease himself up in the uncomfortable hospital bed. With each movement, the pain in his ribs tore the breath from his lungs and left him gasping. When at last the pain subsided, Carter saw Tom sitting at the bottom of the bed, staring in silence at his burnt and blistered hands.
It wasn’t just Tom. On the other side of the room Matt, Ray and Jack leaned against the wall and argued noisily about whether Man U could win the Europa League or finish in the top four.
Carter tried not to look at them. Something was terribly wrong. Why had he received immediate treatment while his friends were left untended? He looked closer. They hadn’t even cleaned up Jack’s neck. His head wobbled unnaturally each time he spoke. If the doctors don’t do something soon, thought Carter, it will fall off.
And poor Matt! His legs looked like raw meat. Worried about infection, Carter rang the bell for the nurse.
‘No point, mate,’ said Tom quietly. ‘Why don’t you just try to get some rest and forget about us for a while?’
‘But I don’t understand,’ whispered Carter.
‘No, I know, I know. But just try to sleep, yeah?’
Carter stared at his best friend, and tears coursed down his face. He only knew it was Tom because of his accent. Half of his face was gone, and most of his flesh. He smelt awful. The acrid stench clung to Carter like a second skin. ‘Why don’t they do something?’ Carter whined. He barely recognised his own voice.
‘Because it’s too late. So you just rest, huh? We’ve got to go now, but we’ll talk later. Try to make things better, alright?’ Tom stood up, beckoned to the others, and they followed him out of the room.
Must be their turn for treatment. He hoped so. He bit his lip. He knew the health service was in a bad way, but their treatment of his friends was appalling. With a sigh, he pushed the button on the morphine pump, slid down under the sheets and waited for oblivion.
CHAPTER ONE
Eighteen Months Later
DI Rowan Jackman handed DS Marie Evans a memo. ‘Have you seen this?’
Marie skimmed through it, and handed it back. ‘Carter McLean? Yes, he’s been returned to full duties as from next week.’
Jackman raised his eyebrows. ‘You don’t look exactly delighted.’
Marie shrugged. ‘I’m not sure how I feel, sir.’
‘He’s been riding a desk for almost six months now, and doing a damned good job too. I’m sure he’s ready. I heard that he steamrollered through his medical assessment.’ Jackman smiled at her.
‘Mmm.’
His smiled faded. ‘What’s that supposed to mean, Marie? What’s the problem?’
Marie sank down into a chair and sighed. ‘I’ve been friends with Carter for a very long time, sir, and I’m sorry but I don’t think the force medical officer and those in charge are seeing the whole picture.’ She paused. ‘Well, I think Laura Archer has her reservations, but she’s just one voice against many.’
‘Surely, as the consultant for the psychological assessment, she would have the greatest say?’
Marie nodded. ‘I think she doesn’t want to stand in Carter’s way. If he believes that he is ready, she is prepared to go along with the FMO, at least for a trial period.’
‘He’ll be monitored carefully, I’m sure.’ But Marie still looked worried. Jackman stood up and went to the door, closed it and returned to his seat. ‘If you are really concerned, my friend, perhaps we should talk about it.’
Marie sighed. ‘Yes. Especially since he’ll be working with us, and we are in the middle of investigating the disappearance of Suzanne Holland.’
Jackman nodded. ‘Ah, I see. The wife of one of Carter McLean’s dead friends.’
‘Carter says that obviously he knew her. After all, she was the wife of his oldest mate. But they were never great pals or anything. Even so . . .’ Marie shook her head.
‘Mmm, but it’s a connection to the past, isn’t it? Something Carter does not need.’
‘Exactly,” she said. “I think he wants to prove that he’s fit for whatever the job throws at him, even if it’s painful.’
‘Painful and dangerous,’ added Jackman. ‘I’ve seen coppers and soldiers suffer from flashbacks, and it isn’t pleasant.’
‘I get the feeling the upper echelons have decided that as long as he can pass muster as a police officer, they don’t give a shit if his world falls apart as soon as he gets inside his own front door,’ Marie said angrily.
Jackman looked at her. ‘You think that’s what’s happening? On the surface, he seems to be coping remarkably well. The chief constable thinks his conduct is pretty amazing, considering what he’s been through.’
‘God! He makes it sound like a stiff upper lip is all you require to recover! And you too, sir. Talk about Carry on Regardless!’ Marie was almost shouting.
Jackman looked at her in surprise. Such an outburst was most uncharacteristic. Then he laughed. ‘That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Carter McLean has just put a really high-profile case to the Crown Prosecution Service. Complex stuff, but he’s nailed it. And without moving out of the CID office.’
‘Yes, exactly. You said it yourself, sir, he did it from the office. He’s safe there. He’s in control. Unless the Good Lord was unkind enough to crash a plane directly on top of the nick, he’s unlikely to have to confront his worst fears in the CID room, is he?’ Marie frowned. ‘It’s when he’s alone in his bed that I suspect things get really bad.’
‘He’s still having nightmares?’
Marie nodded. ‘Carter McLean will probably be having nightmares for a very long time, along with disturbed sleep patterns, increased anxiety, panic attacks, clinical depression, oh yes, and those flashbacks you mentioned.’
Jackman stared at her. ‘You seem to know a lot about this.’
‘I know very little, other than what Carter has told me himself. We’ve talked a lot.’ She gave him a sad smile. ‘He was my Bill’s crewmate when they were in uniform, and they were very close. I saw a lot of Carter before Bill was killed, and I guess I feel I owe it to Bill to try to be there for his old friend.’ She paused. ‘Someone has to look out for him. After that bloody crash, he has no one else left.’