In Harm's Way

by Owen Mullen

  Under the table, Monica took his hand. He sipped his coffee and swallowed before he went on. ‘It was the worst thing I’ve ever seen. It was a dungeon. Mackenzie was naked, chained to a bed.’

  The women gasped and Monica squeezed her husband’s fingers tighter.

  ‘Her face was so white, at first I thought she was dead. Derek was fighting with the guy in the black coat in the middle of the room. Seeing what he’d done to Mackenzie…I guess something in him just snapped.’

  Nobody pressed for details and he finished his story. ‘Then the guy was lying on the floor with a knife in him and Derek was…out of it.’

  Blair steered them away from the picture Gavin had painted onto safer ground. ‘So you called the police.’

  ‘Yeah, I called Andrew Geddes. He told me to keep Mackenzie warm and not to move her.’

  ‘What did Derek do?’

  ‘He was devastated; destroyed. If I hadn’t been there he would’ve finished what he’d started.’

  ‘You mean, he’d have murdered him?’

  Gavin paused before he answered. ‘I’m sure of it.’

  ‘Why did he phone you?’

  ‘No idea, but I’m glad he did.’

  Monica said, ‘Did you manage to speak to him before they took him away?’

  ‘I tried, but he wasn’t taking anything in.’

  Blair asked what none of them had even considered. ‘Did the knife belong to Derek? Because if it did…’

  ‘I can’t be sure though I wouldn’t have thought so. Carrying a knife? Doesn’t sound like Derek, does it? Anyway, Andrew seemed to believe a case could be made for defending himself.’

  ‘But if he dies..?’

  A good question. ‘We’ll be in uncharted waters. We already are.’

  They sat in silence as the true horror of it sunk in. Eventually Gavin said, ‘Let’s get back.’

  It was close on two hours before they saw a doctor. He was tall and black; prematurely balding. The face was young but the eyes were old, and when he spoke there was Africa in his voice. The name-tag pinned to his white coat read: Dr Chilolo. He led them down the corridor into a room and got straight to the point. Clearly he’d already been given the background by the police.

  ‘Mackenzie has a punctured lung, cracked ribs, heavy bruising to her throat and body and cuts and abrasions, some of them infected. She’s in the ACCU – the Adult Critical Care Unit.’ He let seconds pass then added ‘She’s also been sexually assaulted.’

  He stopped short of adding ‘brutally’, it wouldn’t help.

  Chilolo allowed the family to register what he’d said before he gave them the worst of it. ‘Her physical injuries are severe but not grave. She should recover from them. I’m more concerned with her mental state. In certain circumstances, when the body’s under attack, the brain reacts to protect itself. In other words, it closes down.’

  ‘Isn’t that good?’

  ‘In theory, yes.’

  ‘When will you know?’

  The doctor made eye contact with each of them in turn. ‘The next twenty-four hours are critical. My advice would be to go home and get some sleep. There’s nothing to be gained by staying here.’

  Gavin asked what was on all of their minds. ‘And what if it’s permanent? What if Mackenzie doesn’t come out of it?’

  Chilolo drew on his years of dealing with family members at moments like this.

  ‘Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.’

  * * *

  Adele had been Mackenzie’s biggest critic so it was hardly a surprise that the doctor’s guarded reply affected her most. He was telling them to be prepared for the worst, that she might not regain consciousness because of a man Adele had refused to believe existed. If she could turn the clock back, she would, without a moment’s hesitation, and give Mackenzie the support sisters are supposed to give each other. Hindsight was a bloody fine thing, wasn’t it?

  Gavin was the only one with any idea of what to expect, but even he was shocked. Mackenzie was in a private room, a bank of machines monitoring her vital signs. Against the ashen pallor the bruises seemed even more vicious than in the dimly-lit building in the Lowther Hills. Seeing her sister like that was too much for Adele. She burst into tears. Blair held her then guided her out. Gavin and Monica followed them into the corridor and Blair suggested they leave. Adele insisted on staying.

  ‘I can’t leave her like this. I want to wait a little longer. But you go, you all need some rest.’

  None of them disagreed.

  Blair said, ‘I’ll keep you company.’

  She turned the offer down. ‘No thanks. I’d like time alone with Mackenzie if you don’t mind. Besides, the boys can’t be left by themselves too long or we’ll have no house to go back to.’

  When they’d gone she sat by the bed holding her sister’s hand, caressing it, quietly asking to be forgiven. ‘I’m sorry, baby. I let you down. I didn’t know. I didn’t know.’

  Adele listened to the rise and fall of Mackenzie’s breathing, anxiously studying her bruised face for a sign of recognition – the flicker of an eyelid, the tremble of a fingertip – anything.

  There was nothing.

  She wasn’t a religious person. Religion was a crutch for weak people and, whatever else, nobody had ever accused Adele Gardiner of being weak. But she was weak. And she was tired of pretending she was strong. She rested her head on the bed and prayed.

  A nurse asked for ten minutes to attend to Mackenzie. Out in the corridor, laughter got Adele’s attention – a policeman stationed by a door was joking with a porter. Coffee was mentioned. A minute later, he passed her on his way, she assumed, to the tearoom.

  Adele didn’t stop to think about it. HE was in there, the monster who’d caused her sister so much pain. She opened the door and went inside.

  There were two beds in the room. One of them was empty. In the other, a figure lay unconscious, his face covered by an oxygen mask. In her mind, the man who had abducted and abused her sister was an animal. It was shocking to discover he didn’t look like a monster. In fact, he couldn’t have been more ordinary. His eyes were closed as if he was only sleeping, his skin had a healthy pink glow, and in the muted light, Adele took in an IV line running from his wrist to a saline drip and a bank of machines recording his vital signs.

  But it didn’t matter how he fucking looked, did it? He’d done what he’d done to a defenceless woman. She pictured her little sister’s broken body yards away and heard the doctor’s uncertain prognosis in her head. Mackenzie might not recover. Prepare yourselves. That was what he’d been saying.

  let’s cross that bridge when we come to it

  let’s cross that bridge when…

  let’s cross that…

  She glanced nervously over her shoulder towards the door and gently removed his mask. The pillow from the other bed felt cool and fresh and crisp. Adele held it inches above his face, savouring the moment, wanting to remember it.

  From behind her a voice said, ‘Trust me, Mrs Gardiner, that wouldn’t be the best decision you’ve ever made.’

  It was DS Andrew Geddes.

  * * *

  Geddes walked from the door, replaced the oxygen mask and gently took the pillow out of Adele’s unsteady hands. In the bed, Joe Melia not long back from theatre, was oblivious to how close he’d come to paying the price of his cruelty. The DS glanced at Adele Gardiner, remembering how certain and how wrong she’d been about her sister’s claim she was being stalked. ‘“ – A cock-and-bull story – ”’ she’d called it.

  then you didn’t believe it?

  not for a second

  why?

  Mackenzie’s an attention-seeker

  When he’d interviewed her at her house she’d been impatient and dismissive and Geddes could only imagine how deep her guilt ran now. She choked back a sob and he put a comforting arm on her shoulder. ‘I want to kill him, is that so wrong?’

  The DS chose his words carefully. ‘To kill hi
m? Yes, that would be wrong. To want to?’ He shook his head. ‘How could you feel any other way?’

  ‘If you hadn’t come in…’

  Geddes defused the bleak speculation knowing there was nothing worthwhile down that road. ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself. Even good people do bad things sometimes.’

  She turned to him. ‘All I think about is how badly I let her down. I didn’t believe her. I didn’t believe my own flesh and blood. What does that say about me?’

  ‘It says you’re human. It says you made a mistake.’

  ‘But…look at me…’ Adele raised the hands that had held the pillow inches from Melia’s face. ‘…what have I become?’

  ‘You haven’t become anything. You’re the same as you’ve always been.’

  ‘And what’s that?’

  ‘A woman who loves her sister. Mackenzie’s lucky to have you.’

  Adele smiled a sad half-smile. ‘Thanks for saying that, and thanks for stopping me.’

  The policeman feigned ignorance. ‘You’ve lost me. Nothing happened here.’

  ‘Thank you anyway.’

  It was time to end this. Geddes said, ‘I want you to go home. If there’s any change you’ll be the first person I call.’

  ‘Promise.’

  ‘I promise. The very first.’

  * * *

  The detective was alone in the room with the sounds of Joe Melia’s breathing and the machines monitoring him. He hadn’t realised he was still holding the pillow. A picture of the dank cellar in the Lowther Hills flashed in front of his eyes and his fingers dug into it. For a moment he hesitated then put it back where it belonged and went to find out why the fuck nobody was guarding the door.

  Day Thirteen

  DI Taylor and DS Geddes were anxious to question Derek Crawford. The interview never got started because, in the police doctor’s opinion, he was in shock and therefore in no state to answer. The detectives agreed to postpone the conversation until later in the day.

  Andrew Geddes headed back to the hospital. Two things had happened since he’d last been there: security had been stepped up and a young police officer’s career had crashed and burned. He wouldn’t be going any higher and would probably leave the service when the message got through to him he’d be better off in another job. Now, in the ACCU, not far from the woman Melia had abducted and abused, a uniformed constable sat beside the knife-victim’s bed.

  According to the driver’s licence in his wallet, Joseph Melia was thirty-six years old and living at an address in Shawlands. Officers had already visited the flat. It was unoccupied – a bleary-eyed neighbour confirmed it had been for months.

  The knife had entered Melia’s abdomen on the right side, missing his liver by a fraction, damaging his intestines and causing massive internal bleeding. An emergency operation to stem the blood loss and repair the wound had been only partially successful and the trauma brought on a stroke. He remained critical.

  Geddes watched the figure in the bed, his complexion a picture of health thanks to three blood transfusions, asking himself what kind of monster would do what he’d done. The scene in the basement was as grim as he’d come across in twenty years on the force. Like something from a horror movie: the iron bed, the chain, the smell of decay. And, in the midst of it, Mackenzie Crawford’s beaten body. The detective detested this creature for the suffering he’d caused and, hardened professional though he was, he still hadn’t come to terms with it.

  He was at the door on his way out when the constable shouted. ‘Sir!’

  Joe Melia’s eyes were open, unblinking, staring at the ceiling. Geddes put his revulsion aside – this may be the only chance he’d get. He bent to whisper in his ear. ‘Joe. Joe. Tell me why you did it.’

  Melia didn’t respond and the policeman couldn’t be sure he’d heard him, or even knew he was there. The stroke had pulled one corner of his mouth down so he seemed to be sneering contempt for the naive notion his nearness to death would convince him to reveal secrets only he knew.

  Geddes tried again, coaxing him to speak. ‘C’mon, Joe, tell me why. Why Mackenzie Crawford? Do yourself a favour. Do the right thing while you still can.’

  He almost blurted out the old cliche about it going easier on him but stopped himself.

  Joe Melia would never leave this room.

  Melia’s bottom lip quivered, his twisted mouth producing sounds more animal than human. The DS stayed with it. ‘Why her? What did she do to you to make you hate her so much?’

  ‘Cccoaddaawth.’

  Geddes altered his approach using a gentler tone which wasn’t in his heart. ‘Take your time. Take your time, Joe. There’s plenty of time. I’m here.’

  The eyes darted in Melia’s head. ‘Hhhhththth. Kkkkadd.’

  ‘You and I know you’re not a killer so help me understand. Why take it out on the woman?’

  The reply was mangled, unrecognisable as language. ‘Kkkkkaaaaa.’

  Across the bed the constable observed his superior uncomfortably. ‘Think we should get a nurse, Sir. I really think we should.’

  Geddes ignored him. ‘Joe. Joe. For God’s sake man. Tell me why.’

  Suddenly, Melia’s back arched violently as if some giant hand had taken hold of him. He thrashed under the bedclothes. His jaw fell slack, his pupils turned up into his head and his body shook uncontrollably while a moan, long and thick, came from deep within him. His tongue protruded from between his bared teeth before they snapped shut, severing the tip, filling his mouth with blood. A red spray landed on Geddes face but he didn’t stop. He put aside his shock and stuck to his task, conscious of the manic urgency in his own voice, knowing he was wasting his time: Melia was having a second stroke and would be lucky to survive – the opportunity was slipping away.

  If the bastard died the truth would die with him.

  ‘Why? Why her? Why there? Fucking tell me!’

  Suddenly the room was filled with nurses and the detective realised the constable must have pressed the emergency call-button. The last thing he saw before he was pulled away and forced to leave were the metal paddles attached to Melia’s bare chest and a doctor leaning over him calling ‘Clear!’

  Then Andrew Geddes was in the corridor with the white-faced officer giving him a strange look, no nearer understanding what had brought Joseph Melia to the house in the Lowther Hills.

  * * *

  Gavin Darroch hadn’t slept much during the night and guessed he wouldn’t be alone. None of the family were proud of themselves and he imagined Adele would take it especially hard. He drew into the car park and walked to the hospital entrance with Monica at his side. Blair and Adele were already there. Visiting hours didn’t apply to them.

  Adele said, ‘I phoned before we left. She’s still unconscious but stable.’

  He nodded; he’d made the same call.

  They dreaded what was waiting for them. What they found was no change in their sister although some of the tension had left her features and she almost looked like herself again. If only it was that easy. Gavin asked if Doctor Chilolo was available. He wasn’t and he had to settle for a doctor who’d just come on duty who was sympathetic but answered his questions in general terms.

  Unaware of the nurse stripping the empty bed that had held Joseph Melia, they trooped back downstairs no wiser than they’d been.

  * * *

  Geddes took a call at his desk in Aikenhead Road. He listened, his lips a tight line, then went to look for Taylor. The Detective Inspector was in his office. When Geddes stuck his head round the door, Taylor misunderstood.

  ‘Ready to go, are we?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘Joe Melia died five minutes ago.’

  * * *

  Derek Crawford had agreed to speak to the officers but was clearly still shaken. Roxburgh, his lawyer, had updated him on his wife’s condition and assured him they had a solid defence: a stranger had kidnapped her from outside their home and tortu
red her in the bowels of a derelict building. If he hadn’t acted, she’d be dead. He’d saved her life. He was a hero. No jury in the country would convict him. Crawford believed him.

  Taylor and Geddes came in and sat down. The man they were about to interview had suffered a terrible experience but whatever they were feeling they kept to themselves; their expressions gave nothing away. When Gavin Darroch told the familiar face from the five-a-sides about his missing sister in a room not thirty feet away, the DS couldn’t have imagined what it would become.

  Taylor recognised Geddes’ existing knowledge of the case and had asked him to lead. He began gently. ‘I’m aware this is a difficult time for you, Mr Crawford. It isn’t my intention to make it any worse. Having said that, I do have some questions. As your lawyer has told you, the man we suspect of abducting Mrs Crawford has died in hospital of his injuries.’

  Crawford whispered through his teeth. ‘Bastard. Got off scot-free.’

  Geddes didn’t comment. ‘Which makes it all the more important we understand exactly what happened. Tell me how you came to be in the house in the Lowther Hills?’

  Roxburgh said something to Derek Crawford the detectives didn’t hear.

  ‘I followed him from Glasgow.’

  ‘Did you know him?’

  Crawford fingered his bandaged arm. ‘Know him, no. I’d seen him before.’

  ‘Where?’

  He took a deep breath. ‘In Buchanan Street. I told you this.’

  ‘You did, but we need it for the record. Describe the circumstances and take your time.’

  ‘I can’t think about it, can’t go there, it’s too painful.’

  The DS encouraged him. ‘Try. Do it for Mackenzie.’

  Crawford covered his face with his hands. ‘She told me. She pointed him out. I wouldn’t listen to her.’

  Roxburgh shook his head at the detectives. ‘Obviously this is upsetting. Can my client have a minute?’