by Marion Todd
A few minutes later a woman of about forty came tapping along the corridor. She introduced herself as Dr Geraldine Colvin then said she wasn’t sure how she could help them.
Clare, with one eye on the receptionist who appeared to be reading something on her notepad, asked if they could speak somewhere more private. Dr Colvin hesitated then led them back along the corridor. She pushed open the door to a small room and flicked on the light. It was simply furnished with a desk, bearing a computer tower and monitor. To the side of the desk were four easy chairs arranged round a small coffee table. Dr Colvin indicated the chairs. ‘Please, sit,’ she said. She waited until they had sat then she perched on a chair opposite, her back ramrod straight.
Clare smiled, hoping to put her at her ease. ‘We’re trying to contact Dr Holt as a matter of urgency. She’s not at home and we wondered if you – or any of her other colleagues – might know where she could have gone.’
Dr Colvin’s face cleared, evidently relieved at such a straightforward question. ‘As a matter of fact, you’ve just missed her. She came in to say she had to take some compassionate leave. Some crisis with her parents I think. I said I’d sort out her case load and she left.’ She frowned. ‘I’m not sure I have their number but it might be on her record, as an emergency contact.’
Clare glanced at Chris. ‘When was this?’
‘Literally five minutes before you arrived.’
‘Did she say where she was going?’ Clare asked, getting to her feet.
‘No, sorry.’
Clare put her hand on the door handle. ‘Thanks so much for your time, Dr Colvin.’ She took a card out of her pocket. ‘If Dr Holt does contact you would you give me a call, please?’
She took the card. ‘Of course. Do you want me to ask her to call you herself?’
Clare shook her head. ‘No, in fact, don’t mention it to her. Just let me know.’
They ran for the car, Clare calling Jim as they went.
‘Jim, she’s been in Cupar. Left about twenty minutes ago.’
‘Direction?’
‘Sorry – no idea. Better get someone onto the A91 and A92 – both directions. And sit a car at the Fife end of the Tay Road Bridge. We’ll be back soon.’
Chris put his foot to the floor, siren blaring and headed back towards St Andrews. They were just entering Guardbridge, nearing the roundabout when Jim called again.
‘They’ve spotted the car. It’s on the A92, heading towards the Tay Road Bridge.’
‘Gotcha,’ Clare said into the phone. ‘Chris, take a left at the roundabout. She’s heading for the bridge.’ Then she spoke into the phone again. ‘What kind of car is it, Jim?’
‘Subaru Impreza – bright blue.’
‘Give me the reg…’
Clare wrote down the registration number, leaning on the dashboard as Chris took the Guardbridge roundabout at speed. With the siren and lights going, the traffic parted and he was soon driving through Leuchars.
‘We should be at the bridge in ten minutes,’ Clare said into her phone.
‘Five,’ Chris said, picking up speed.
‘Are you in contact with the traffic car at the bridge, Jim?’ Clare asked.
‘Yeah. They’ve got it blocked off. Should see the car soon.’
As they approached the Forgan roundabout, the last one before the bridge, Clare told Chris to kill the siren and lights. ‘We don’t want her alerted.’
And then they saw the car a quarter of a mile ahead. The traffic cops were standing on the verge with their fluorescent jackets, checking cars then waving them on. The Subaru’s brake lights came on then it swung across to the outside lane. The traffic car was parked broadside across both lanes and one of the officers stepped out into the road, his hand held up to stop the Subaru.
‘There’s nowhere for her to go,’ Clare said. ‘We’ve got her.’
But, as the road neared the roundabout the crash barrier which ran along the centre of the dual carriageway sloped down to ground level and stopped just short of a grass verge that bordered the roundabout. Suddenly the Subaru’s wheels spun, kicking up gravel and dust and bumped onto the grass. It emerged onto the road opposite, taking the slip road that led to Tayport.
‘Shit!’ Clare said. ‘Can you follow her?’
‘Too right,’ Chris said. He switched the siren and lights back on and they followed the Subaru over the grass and down the slip road. They heard the screeching of brakes as it reached the junction, turning right towards Tayport without stopping.
‘Jim, get a car to the other end of Tayport as soon as you can. We’re tailing her.’
The road wasn’t wide and Chris weaved in and out of parked cars, causing oncoming traffic to screech to a halt to allow him through. But when they approached a bend in the road, Clare leaning to the left saw a bus heading straight for the Subaru as it overtook parked cars. Instinctively she stuck out her feet to brace herself for the inevitable impact but the bus pulled up short and the Subaru swung left and down Castle Road which was even narrower than the main street. It was a twenty-miles-an-hour zone but the Subaru careered down at easily double that.
‘Careful, Chris,’ Clare said, one hand on the door to steady herself. ‘We want her, but not at any cost.’
The street came to a T-junction at the end and a car was sitting to the right, waiting to turn up. The Subaru turned left, causing a woman with a black Labrador to jump back from the edge of the pavement. It roared down the road, towards the Harbour Café. A large yellow grit lorry was moving slowly along the road to the right and a learner driver was approaching from the left. With nowhere else to go the Subaru went straight ahead into the harbour area.
Whether it was the speed, the sudden braking or a patch of icy ground, Clare wasn’t sure, but she watched in horror as the car skidded through a gap in the fence and plunged headlong into the icy cold waters of the River Tay.
Chapter 54
Chris only just managed to stop the car from following the Subaru into the water. Clare clicked off her seatbelt and jumped out. The Subaru was sinking, fast. The light was fading now but it was still clear enough for her to see a panic-stricken Sandra Holt struggling with the door. Clare ran round to the back of their car and opened the boot, taking out a tow rope while Chris called for an ambulance and fire engine.
He jumped out of the car, phone clamped to his ear and Clare threw the end of the rope to him, kicking off her shoes. ‘Here,’ she shouted. ‘Tie this to the tow hook.’
She took off her jacket and threw it behind her. The tide was in and the Subaru was more than half submerged now. It was starting to move round with the sway of the tide and Clare could see Sandra’s desperate face at the window.
‘Clare,’ Chris yelled. ‘You can’t…’
‘I have to. Now tie it and I’ll attach the other end to the drive shaft.’
Chris reached down to the front of the bonnet and pressed desperately at the flap which concealed the tow hook. But it wouldn’t budge.
‘Use the key,’ Clare shouted.
He ran back to the driver’s door and snatched the key out, using it to lever the flap open. Then he lashed the tow rope round the hook, knotting it tightly. ‘Okay,’ he shouted.
‘Get ready to back up,’ Clare called and she slipped off the harbour wall, easing herself down into the freezing waters. She gasped as if she’d been hit in the chest as the icy cold spread through her body and she took a few seconds to control her breathing. She could only just see the top half of Sandra’s head as she continued struggling with the door.
‘Stay inside,’ Clare shouted, gasping for breath. ‘Stay inside.’
The car was sinking lower and lower and she couldn’t put it off any longer. She took a few deep lungfuls in and out then one final huge breath. She plunged beneath the surface, feeling for the front wheel. The water was grimy and she could see nothing through the silt and sand kicked up by the car. Her hair wrapped itself round her eyes but she carried on, feeling her way round
the front of the car. She found the number plate and moved left and under until she could feel the drive shaft where it connected to the wheel. The car was bobbing around, gradually sinking lower and she struggled to keep a grip on it. Her fingers were starting to seize with the cold and she felt her lungs bursting for air. She would have to surface soon if she couldn’t get the rope round.
And then, finally, her fingers found the gap and she forced the rope round and out again. Terrified it would slip back she gripped tightly as if her life depended on it and tried to recall her uncle teaching her how to tie a bowline when she was just twelve.
It was a sunny Saturday afternoon and she was practising for a Guides badge. Her uncle, endlessly patient, was taking her through a series of knots. Make a loop, she could hear him saying and she forced her frozen fingers to form a loop. Now pass the end through the loop, the voice in her head said, and she tried to forget the car, forget the ice that was spreading through her body. Remember the bowline, he said when she’d finally mastered half a dozen different knots. It’s the strongest knot you’ll ever need. And now, in this grimy freezing water, with the Subaru and its occupant sinking fast, she thought if ever she needed a strong knot, it was now. But doing it blind, submerged in freezing water. I can’t do it, she thought.
Then Sandra Holt’s terrified eyes came back into her mind and she forced herself to recall the knot. The rope was through the loop now and she felt her way round the back of the rope and through the loop again. And suddenly it was done. She pulled as tightly as she could and tugged at the rope to check it was secure. Then she let go of the car and rose to the surface, gasping as she reached fresh air.
She tried to speak but the cold of the water was drawing the breath from her body. She gestured with her hand for the car to reverse. Chris was already in the driving seat, the door lying open, exhaust fumes condensing in the cold air. She heard the revs increase and the car began to move slowly back, taking up the slack on the rope.
Suddenly Clare felt strong arms lifting her up and she was hoisted into a boat which had come up behind her. The boatman then lifted a long pole and began steering the Subaru round until the front of it was facing the harbour wall and Chris’s car. As Chris reversed further back trying to raise the front end high enough up to keep Sandra’s head above water, the wheels began to spin. He eased off the revs and this time the wheels bit and the car began moving again. But it wasn’t enough. The rope caught in the harbour wall and stuck. Then Clare saw men and women appearing from every direction. Word must have spread. They formed a line, as if preparing for a tug-o-war, and dug their heels in. And suddenly the front end of the car began to lift. Clare’s heart rose as Sandra’s head once more came into view. Shivering violently, she brushed hair off her face and saw Sandra’s eyes meet hers.
The boatman threw a coat round Clare’s shoulders and she clutched it round herself. He began steering his way back to the wooden pontoon. ‘Soon have you warm, lass,’ he said, and Clare nodded. In the distance she could hear sirens coming closer and she bent forward, hugging her knees, wondering if the cold would ever leave her body.
Chapter 55
A woman appeared on the pontoon, clutching a hot water bottle which Clare took then immediately dropped as the heat connected with her icy fingers. The boatman retrieved an oily rag from the cabin and wrapped it round the hot water bottle, handing it back to Clare. A young lad with a flask ran from the Harbour Café and he stood waiting for Clare to step out of the boat, pouring hot coffee into a plastic cup.
‘Haud on, son,’ the boatman said and he went back to the cabin for a water bottle. ‘Don’t want it too hot.’ He poured some water into the plastic cup then held it to Clare’s mouth. Even cooled by the water, it felt burning hot and she spat it out involuntarily. ‘Sip it, hen,’ the man said, and Clare tried again, spilling coffee as she shook with the cold. ‘Blankets!’ the man barked and the hot water bottle woman ran back towards her house.
Clare allowed herself to be hoisted up onto the pontoon by another two men but her legs wouldn’t support her and she fell into their arms. Suddenly a siren which had been distant split the air as an ambulance appeared in the harbour car park. Chris waved it over as close as it could get to the pontoon, running with the paramedics as they wheeled a stretcher trolley out of the back.
She eyed the trolley and opened her mouth to protest but she couldn’t speak.
‘Hypothermic,’ the boatman said, and the paramedics nodded.
‘We’ve heated blankets,’ they said and they eased Clare onto the trolley. ‘Soon have you warmed up.’
The sky lit up with more blue flashing lights as a fire engine, siren blaring, drove into the car park. As the sound died Clare heard the puttering of a boat engine. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the distinctive orange lifeboat moving slowly into the harbour.
Chris was running alongside the paramedics as they wheeled Clare towards the ambulance. ‘Lifeboat’s here now, Clare. They’ll get her out.’
Clare eyed him, then he was there no longer as she was wheeled up a ramp into the ambulance. She felt the heat of warm blankets then a jolt as the doors were slammed and it began its journey back to Ninewells Hospital.
* * *
Two hours later Clare was sitting up in bed, hooked up to an IV drip, drinking endless cups of tea. She was wearing a printed hospital gown and swathed in honeycomb blankets. She managed a smile as Chris approached her bed.
‘What the hell are you like?’ he joked, although his expression couldn’t conceal how worried he was.
Clare shrugged. ‘I know. Can’t turn your back for a minute.’
He pulled up a chair and sat down at her bedside. ‘What’s in that?’ he asked, indicating the drip.
‘Just warm fluids. I can’t tell you how lovely it feels.’ She examined her fingers, still white. ‘I’m gradually starting to feel my fingers again. I don’t think I’ve ever been so cold.’
A nurse appeared with some tablets in a cup. ‘Antibiotics,’ she explained. ‘In case you picked up any parasites in the water. Short course, just to be on the safe side.’
Clare tipped the tablets into her mouth and washed them down with tea. The nurse stuck a digital thermometer in Clare’s ear then nodded.
‘Coming up nicely.’
‘When can I go home?’ Clare asked.
‘Probably another couple of hours,’ the nurse said, writing on the chart at the end of Clare’s bed. ‘But I’ll check with the duty doctor.’
The nurse moved away, and Clare lay back on her pillows. ‘What happened after I left?’
‘The lifeboat got her out. Car’s still there but it’s pretty much stuck in the silt, now the tide’s gone out. The harbourmaster said it was bad luck. The harbour’s just been dredged and it was fully high tide. Otherwise, the car might have settled on the bottom without putting her in danger. She wasn’t actually as cold as you, apparently. She hadn’t been fully submerged. But she’s here, somewhere.’
‘Tell me you’ve got her under guard?’
‘Oh yes. Two officers on the door.’
‘She’s to be arrested the minute she’s fit to leave,’ Clare said, reaching across for the tea and taking another sip.
‘Clare, I do know that,’ Chris said, shaking his head. ‘Can you just concentrate on recovering, please?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘I’m absolutely fine. Just need to warm up a bit. I’ll be right as rain in a few hours.’
‘The DCI says you’ve not to darken the station door until Monday at the earliest.’
Clare’s lips thinned. ‘We’ll see about that.’
‘Seriously, Clare, you do need to make sure you’re okay.’
‘Yeah, I know. Thanks, Chris. I appreciate it. I don’t suppose someone could fetch me some clean clothes?’ She glanced down at a large white plastic bag beside the bed, knotted at the neck. ‘That lot’s going straight in the bin.’
He laughed. ‘Way ahead of you. Sara’s on her way up with
something. Time you had some new clothes anyway.’
‘I hope they fit,’ she said, thinking of all the cakes she’d eaten over the past two weeks, thanks to Zoe.
‘It’s okay. I told her to bring something from her fat wardrobe.’
Clare closed her eyes. ‘I don’t even have the energy to scold you.’
‘And I’ve phoned Moira – your neighbour? She’s taking Benjy overnight. Just to give you time to recover.’
Clare smiled. ‘I might just have a nap.’ And she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
* * *
It was almost nine o’clock when the doctor gave Clare the go-ahead to leave. ‘See you keep taking these,’ he said, handing her two packs of antibiotics. ‘Some nasty parasites in those waters.’
Clare assured him she would. As she headed out of the ward she was surprised at how weak her legs felt and she allowed Chris to give her an arm. Sara walked behind, carrying the white bag of Clare’s filthy clothes. As they reached the end of the ward she saw the two officers standing outside the door to a small room. ‘She in there?’ she asked, and they nodded.
‘Clare, I don’t think…’ Chris began, but she paid him no heed, pushing open the door.
Sandra Holt lay, like Clare, hooked up to a drip, her face white and waxy. Her blonde hair was matted on the pillow and Clare wondered suddenly what her own hair was like. Sandra opened her eyes and she took a moment to register who they were.
‘How are you?’ Clare asked.
Sandra looked away. She didn’t speak for a moment, then she said, ‘I’ll live.’
Clare nodded. ‘I’m not going to say anything now but, once you feel better, you should call your solicitor.’
Sandra flicked a glance at Clare but said nothing.
Clare turned away and Chris moved to open the door.
Then Sandra said, ‘You saved my life.’
Clare shrugged but she made no reply.
Sandra ran a tongue round her lips then she said, ‘Thank you.’