Blood Loss

by Kerena Swan

  Chapter 25

  The Following July | Jenna

  Mum has surprised me by letting me drive her to the hospital after all. Before she got in my car, I gathered up the mouldy smoothie bottles, clothing and other detritus but I haven’t had time to brush the crumbs off the seats or dust the dashboard. She probably thinks it’s filthy in here but she isn’t saying much – just staring out of the side window at the trees and houses. I imagine mess loses its importance when your health is at stake.

  A car pulls out of a side turning and I brake hard, causing Mum to tip forward in her seat. She grabs the door handle but doesn’t comment. I steal a glance at her before giving the road my full attention again. Usually, she would criticise me for driving too fast. She must be worried about this appointment. I’ve been trying to make up time because we were delayed leaving. I’d told the mother of the twins I look after that I needed to finish at one but she didn’t return until one thirty. I decide to drive slowly the rest of the journey.

  Milton Keynes Hospital is nothing like it used to be. I remember Mum bringing me here as a small child to visit Lucy after she had her tonsils out. Back then there was a big open-air car park with loads of spaces. Now visitors have to park in a grim looking multi-storey built from what appears to be cages of rocks. The queue to get through the barrier is ten cars long and it looks even worse inside. As we’re running late I drop Mum off at the entrance and tell her I’ll find her.

  Fifteen minutes later – fifteen for fuck’s sake! – I’m running down corridors looking for the X-ray department, worried about Mum facing this on her own. When I eventually find it, I feel so tense and light-headed that I have to put my hands on my knees and let my head hang down to get some blood into it.

  ‘You were a long time.’ Mum is sitting in a small waiting area, twisting her wedding ring around and around her finger.

  ‘The car park’s a bloody nightmare. The ticket machine isn’t working so there’s a massive queue and as no one was leaving, there were no spaces available for ages. Have you been seen by anyone yet?’

  ‘A nurse has asked me a lot of questions and completed a form but I’m waiting to go in for the X-ray.’

  I’m relieved I made it in time. I fetch us cups of water then try to make light conversation. ‘Have you been sitting out in the sun, Mum? You’ve got a bit of colour.’ She usually looks pale.

  ‘No, I haven’t.’ A small frown furrows between her eyes and I wonder what she’s thinking. ‘You were jaundiced when you were born,’ she says after a while.

  I look at her in surprise then suppose it’s being in a hospital that’s triggered the memory.

  I’m about to prompt her for more stories to take her mind off her problems when her name is called. I want to go with her but I’m not allowed anywhere near the scanning process so, as she’s led away. I pick up a magazine and settle down to wait. I toss it aside again a few minutes later. I can’t concentrate. I keep thinking of Mum being zapped by a giant machine.

  Mum looks relieved when she returns and my hopes lift. ‘Well, that wasn’t as bad as I expected,’ she says.

  ‘All good?’

  ‘I won’t know for a week or so. They’ll analyse the X-ray and write to my GP. They want me to come back and see the consultant so I need to make an appointment at the front desk.’

  Mum smiles, clearly trying to reassure me, but for the first time I can’t help noticing in the harsh overhead lighting that the whites of her eyes have a yellow tinge. Has she noticed it too and is that why she mentioned my jaundice? I might have to research what it could mean on Google after all.

  Chapter 26

  The Previous March | Sarah

  I turn the temperature up on the shower and flinch as the scalding water flays my skin. I pour a large measure of bath gel onto my shower scrunchie and scrub my intimate areas until they hurt. Even though I’d made Derek wear a condom I still feel sullied and dirty. I find the hardest old towel in the airing cupboard and rub my body roughly. It feels like sandpaper but at least if I take the top layer of skin off, I’ll have removed all trace of him.

  Finally, I clean my teeth and swill my mouth out with a strong mouthwash. I didn’t let Derek kiss me but I breathed in air that he’d breathed out. But that’s enough of that sort of thinking. The sex is behind me and it’s the future that’s important. I’ll get my new car in the morning and Derek will make sure no trail leads to me. He might be a creep but a deal is a deal to Derek and he won’t go back on his word. I cover my glowing pink skin with pyjamas and a dressing gown then pull the DNA testing kit from under my pillow.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have used the mouthwash. I might contaminate the evidence. I’ll wait for a while and read the instructions again. I posted a swab stick and a return envelope to Dad this morning after triple-checking the unique reference number on the return envelope to ensure it marries up with my sample. The leaflet says I should get Mum’s saliva sample as well. She’ll refuse if I ask her, but maybe I can do it without her knowing.

  I pick up a sample stick and tissue then tiptoe down the stairs to where she’s lying on the sofa. Her head is tipped back and she’s snoring with her mouth open. Perfect. I creep towards her and deftly wipe the stick inside her cheek. She shakes her head then blearily opens her eyes.

  ‘Wha…? What are you doing?’

  I wipe the side of her mouth with the tissue and hold the stick behind my back with the other hand. ‘You were dribbling again, Mum. Come on. You need to go to bed.’

  She sits up and puts her feet on the floor, her head hanging down and her face hidden by her hair, then she lurches forward and stands up, swaying slightly. I hold her arm as she makes her way to the stairs.

  ‘You’re a good girl, Sarah. I may not have told you this but…’ She grabs the handrail and puts her foot on the first tread three times before moving forward again.

  ‘But what?’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘You started to say something.’

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘Yes. You said, “I may not have told you this but…”. What else were you going to say?’ We’re halfway up the stairs now.

  ‘Oh, yes. I was going to say I may not have told you this, but you’re my special girl. My special, darling girl.’

  I don’t know whether I’m pleased or disappointed. Mum has rarely said loving words to me over the years, probably to stay on Dad’s good side, so this would have warmed my soul a while back. But I thought she was going to tell me something about my parentage.

  I guide her to her room and leave her sprawled on the bed then go to my own room to put her saliva sample in the envelope provided. I run downstairs and have a drink of water then allow saliva to build up in my mouth before taking my own sample. I’ll post them first thing in the morning.

  Back in my room, I lie on the bed and stare at the cracks in the ceiling. Robert’s death comes into my mind and I wonder if I’d have coped with his rejection of me better if I hadn’t spent my entire life feeling unloved. Perhaps. Not that it makes Robert any the less to blame for what happened. He was a low-life fraud who deserved what he got, and the world is better off without him.

  Hang on, though. If my suspicions are wrong and the tests prove John Butcher is actually my father, then might I have inherited his temper and violent tendencies, like I’ve previously wondered. No, that’s ridiculous. I don’t enjoy violence at all. I want a peaceful, happy life with someone I love. Someone who loves me back. When I know who I am, I’m going to move forward and build a new and positive life. Not long to wait now. Not long until everything becomes clear.

  Chapter 27

  March | DI Paton

  The lane was deserted this time, and no longer speckled with snow. No doubt the journalists had taken all the pictures they needed and wrung every detail of newsworthy significance from the scene before moving on to the next human road crash. Paton wondered if the Tay Killer, as the press had named him or her – was checking the news daily to see if the p
olice were any nearer to catching them. They’d know the police had discovered the victim’s identity but they wouldn’t know the police had CCTV of their car at the hotel in Paisley and were trying to locate silver Fiestas. He pondered over what the killer might be doing now. Was he or she trying to destroy evidence or set up an alibi? Flee the country even?

  Paton mulled over the forensic findings again. The presence of vaginal fluid and the lack of space in the room for a third person strongly indicated a woman suspect but had the sex happened some time before the killing? The lack of tyre tracks in and out of the property suggested there were only two people there. Unless the killer and the woman left together? Hopefully, a long look at the crime scene would reveal some clues.

  Cheryl and Paton bounced in their seats as the car bumped along the track. He turned into the driveway of the cabin and climbed out of the car, massaging his back.

  ‘I think that last pothole has done me an injury,’ he said. ‘I just hope it hasn’t knackered the suspension.’

  Cheryl stopped beside him and tapped the tyre with the toe of her boot. ‘At least it’s the company car, boss.’ She looked sideways at him and he laughed. ‘What are you hoping to find here?’ she asked.

  ‘Enlightenment, of course.’ He grinned at her then walked towards the front door.

  The crime scene tape had been taken down and the cleaners had been in so there wouldn’t be any blood today, thank God. The cabin remained unlet, though. No one but the macabre would want to stay somewhere a murder had recently taken place. Before he entered the cabin, Paton stood and listened. Nothing but birdsong and the wind sighing in the trees. Not even a car in the distance. A scream would go unnoticed out here.

  Paton unlocked the door and they stepped inside. The place smelled like the swimming pool he visited as a kid – of chlorine and dusty, wooden changing rooms. It must be the bleach the cleaners used and the wooden walls and ceiling.

  ‘When did the SIO release the crime scene?’ Cheryl asked.

  ‘Two days ago.’ The evidence would have been photographed, bagged and labelled, and would now be with the forensics lab. ‘I’ve got copies of the photographs to go through, and if we want a closer look at any objects we can ask to see them.’

  ‘Did the search of the grounds and surrounding area throw up any evidence?’

  ‘Apart from the tyre tracks, nothing.’

  They wandered from room to room and Paton couldn’t suppress a shudder as he stared at the floor where the body had lain. The cleaners had done a good job and there was no trace of the violence that had ended a man’s life. He paused in the doorway and tried to visualise the scene. If it was a couple staying here for an illicit week of romance then why would they be in this tiny bedroom when there were two others? The room had been completely empty of belongings on the day of the crime – just sparse furnishings of a chest of drawers and single bed. As he stared, his attention was caught by the scene through the window. It almost looked like a landscape painting hanging on the wall. He stepped forward and gazed at the spectacular view of rolling hills, majestic trees and the distant loch. It was beautiful, and for a moment he forgot why he was there.

  ‘Boss?’ Cheryl appeared in the doorway. ‘Had an epiphany yet?’

  ‘Sadly not.’

  He walked towards her then stopped abruptly. They were standing in the exact spot where the murder had taken place. Had the girlfriend walked in to talk to Robert Nash as he admired the view? Is this where he told her he had a wife and they had no future together? He could see it all now as though it were playing out in front of him. He recalled the bloodied tea towel on the floor. Had she been drying the dishes when he called her in to admire the scene from the window? What sort of woman would lose control and attack a man with such frenzy? She must have been smothered in blood.

  There had been no female’s belongings left in the cabin, but Robert’s had been strewn about as though she’d packed in a hurry. Did she get changed first or did she panic and run out in her stained clothing? And what about her shoes? The forensics officer had told him the footprints in the blood indoors and earth outside had been checked against the National Footwear Reference Collection and they now knew the size, manufacturer and roughly when the shoes were made. Adidas trainers, size six.

  They’d even got an idea of the degree of wear and a unique pattern where there was a nick in one part of the sole, probably from a sharp stone. The shoes were quite worn which indicated a possible lack of funds or someone who preferred comfort over appearance. If the police eventually tracked her down, they’d be able to match the prints to her shoes, if she still had them.

  He reeled his thoughts back a moment to consider other options. What if someone else killed Robert Nash and took the girlfriend or she ran away and was hiding? No. Highly unlikely. Anyway, there were no other footprints and it would have been impossible to clear up some of them without touching the others. Paton was now convinced the killer was a woman.

  He looked around the rest of the cabin then joined Cheryl in the garden.

  ‘I wonder what the owner will do with the place now,’ she said.

  ‘From what I’ve heard, people have cancelled their bookings. Unless he rents it to one of those ghost spotting programmes, he’ll have to accept it’s going to be empty until people’s memories fade. Come on. I’ve seen enough.’

  Paton drove even more cautiously back along the drive, thinking through what had happened there. ‘Any thoughts?’ he asked Cheryl.

  ‘I’ve been wondering about the blood,’ she said. ‘The killer would have had to change clothes before going anywhere public.’

  ‘Exactly. If you needed to get changed, where would you go?’

  ‘I’d park somewhere remote and change in the car, maybe, or find a petrol station with a toilet I could reach from the outside rather than walking through the shop.’

  ‘Good thinking. We need to check CCTV at the service stations on the journey to Manchester.’

  He looked at his watch. He needed to leave on time tonight. He’d promised to take Wendy and Tommy to see the latest Toy Story film and he’d already been late home three times this week.

  Chapter 28

  March | Sarah

  As soon as I wake my stomach flips with excitement. My DNA results should arrive today. I could go to the library to open my e-mail and print off the report but I can’t wait that long. I know Desperate Derek has got a flashy computer and printer for his dodgy car dealing business. I’m sure he’ll let me use his equipment. Huh. I pause, realising I used a double entendre there, but I can’t laugh at it because Derek – and his equipment – are so repulsive. The thought of what I let him do to me still fills me with disgust, even though I had no choice.

  I dress quickly and go straight to Derek’s house. I’m not interested in breakfast. He takes a while to open the door and is still in his dressing-gown. He blinks in the bright sunshine and pulls his robe tighter across his skinny chest.

  ‘Come back for more?’ He looks me up and down then gives me a lascivious grin.

  Like fuck I have, you old lech. ‘Hi Derek, I wondered if you wouldn’t mind letting me check and print an e-mail?’ I say in my best sing-song voice. ‘I’m happy to pay for it.’ I hold out a pound coin.

  ‘No need to pay.’ He opens the door wide and throws his arm out in a grand gesture.

  The house smells of dog and cigarettes, and my nose wrinkles in distaste as soon as his back is turned to lead the way along the hall. I hate coming in here, especially after selling myself to Derek the other night. I’d gone straight to his bedroom then and paid little attention to my surroundings but today I can’t deny how grim it looks. The walls are papered in a heavy green, geometric print that looks as though it’s been there for decades and the carpet is a thick brown shag pile that’s flattened in the middle like a garden path. The dog barks on the other side of the kitchen door but Derek ignores it and takes me into the lounge. The contrast to the hallway is startling and it’
s clear that décor isn’t a priority for his ill-gotten gains. One wall is covered by a giant flat-screened television and a Bose sound system is wired around the room. An Apple Mac perches on a large chrome and glass desk with a printer alongside it. He pulls the keyboard towards him and types in a password. I can’t help noticing the expensive-looking watch that peeks out from his dressing-gown cuff as he moves his arm. Bloody hell. Business must be booming.

  ‘All yours,’ he says. ‘I’m making tea. Want one?’

  ‘No thanks. I’ll be out of here as soon as I’ve printed off the attachment.’ Before you can insist on payment of another kind.

  As soon as he’s left the room, chivvying the dog out of the way as he squeezes through the kitchen doorway, I sign in to my e-mail account. The messages take forever to download and I want to yell in frustration. Come on! Derek will be back in a minute. Finally, the one I’m waiting for pings into my inbox and I click on it. I open the attachment and see a table full of numbers. I hit print and close the e-mail then snatch the letter off the printer. I’ll read it at home. I’m at the front door when Derek reappears in a flowery designer shirt and the unmistakable tang of aftershave on his skin.

  ‘Going already?’ He can’t hide his disappointment.

  ‘I’m off to work in ten minutes. Bye.’ I can’t get out of there quickly enough.

  I let myself into Mum’s house then sit on the sofa and open the letter. Mum walks in and I’m tempted to hide it, but she needs to know the result as much as I do. I don’t even glance up at her.

  ‘What are you looking at?’ she asks.

  ‘The DNA results.’

  I don’t want a conversation. I need to absorb this complicated information. There are three columns of numbers and letters and I’m struggling to make sense of them. I skim through the first page to the text at the bottom and gasp.