I'll Find You

by Liz Lawler

  ‘Instead she lost her life, though, didn’t she?’ Emily reminded him. ‘You let that happen.’

  He looked askance, his eyes wounded. ‘I have never let someone die deliberately. She died because . . . she simply died, they said.’ His voice was heavy with regret, his hand forming a hood to hide his expression. ‘I wasn’t there.’

  She lay still, suddenly comprehending that night. ‘You weren’t even there?’ she said. ‘While her life ended, her heart stopped, you’d already abandoned her. You were here with your son, saving his life while she died. And you don’t even know why, because she wouldn’t have had a post mortem, would she? They would have discovered what was missing from her body, otherwise. So what did you do with her?’

  He stood up and turned so that he didn’t have to face her. ‘You don’t need to know those things, Emily.’

  ‘And now you’re going to do the same to me,’ she uttered bleakly.

  He turned back to face her. ‘I’m going to get you well, Emily. You’re septic. I had to resuscitate you.’

  She stared at him, surprised, and looked up. A bag of IV fluids and a smaller bag with IV antibiotics fluids were dripping into her arm.

  He made to leave, and she found she didn’t want to be alone. ‘So where was Katka when all this was going on? Her going missing was the reason I thought it was her in that bed.’

  ‘That’s what they do when they’re seventeen, isn’t it?’ he said with a weary smile. ‘Go off and have a good time and forget that people will be worried about them. Maria told Jemma that Katka missed her flight by going to the wrong gate. Instead of waiting to catch the next one, she returned to Bath and met up with her boyfriend.’

  ‘Did she not go looking for Sophia? Was she not worried that her friend had disappeared?’

  He shook his head. ‘She had her own agenda, I suspect. She possibly thought Sophia had found work. She may have been too wrapped up with her boyfriend to even think about her friend.’

  Emily’s eyes misted with sadness. ‘Zoe was like that. She’d go off, without a word where to, and leave me to worry. It’s true, that’s what they do when they’re seventeen. Is that how old she was?’

  He knew she was asking about Sophia. ‘She was nineteen.’

  This time he got as far as the door. He looked back once more. ‘Thank you for everything you did for my son last night, Emily.’

  ‘Is he any better?’ she asked, hopeful.

  He slowly shook his head. ‘He’s dying, Emily.’

  He closed the door quietly behind him, leaving her in more fear with those words. Shelly seemed to know she could be a donor. She must therefore already know Emily’s blood group.

  If he was dying, they would need her to save him.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Geraldine balled up the new pair of tights she’d just laddered and threw them across the bedroom in frustration. That was the problem with trying to go with seven deniers. You couldn’t afford to have fingers, let alone fucking fingernails – they were meant to magic their way up your legs or be put on with a pair of cotton gloves. She stomped across to her drawers and hoped she’d find another light-coloured pair among the black ones. She didn’t know why the wedding had to be so goddamn early. Most people didn’t get married until at least one o’clock. An eleven o’clock wedding was too early, in her estimation. And a Tuesday was just an odd day to get married, full stop; it put everything else out of sync. Her parents were minding her children and keeping them overnight which would make it a long day for them too, seeing as they’d picked them up at nine o’clock this morning. Still, the bonus was that she would have a lovely day out with her husband, where for a change they could sit without hearing the perpetual cries of ‘I want’ from their children.

  Her hands suddenly went still as she thought of the Dalloways returning from their night out last night. Echoes of the previous night’s conversation came back to her; Rupert Dalloway telling her he’d just spoken to their childminder. The way he spoke about her implied that he was familiar with her. He was so confident that she was alright. ‘She can’t hide it when she’s anxious,’ he’d said. These words were about someone he knew well. And yet their new nanny had only just started with them. She had been a young woman called Felicity, who hadn’t seemed at all anxious to Geraldine’s mind. Jemma had sat in the car while they were talking; if she hadn’t, she may have clarified better what her husband meant by that remark. She now felt uncertain about the outcome of that visit. A simple remark that could mean something or nothing was making her feel twitchy, and she knew she wouldn’t settle until she checked it out. Geraldine closed the drawer. She went to the top of the stairs and called to her husband. Standing in her knickers and bra she put on her best apologetic face. ‘You’re going to have to go ahead without me.’

  *

  Sensing someone in the room, Emily opened her eyes. Isobel was standing on one foot, practising balancing, her arms outstretched, concentration showing on her young face. Emily wondered how long she had been there. She had drifted in and out of sleep since Dalloway’s visit and now desperately wanted the loo.

  ‘Hello, Isobel,’ she called to the girl.

  The child grinned. ‘How long can you stand on one foot?’

  She chuckled, thinking that given her present condition, maybe no time at all. ‘Isobel, can you tell me where the loo is?’

  The girl pointed at the wall straight ahead of her and Emily turned her head and saw a second door in the room. Gathering the sheet around her, securing the wheelie drip stand with the other hand, she managed to get out of bed. ‘Won’t be long,’ she said.

  ‘Walter said your face looked strange.’

  Emily smiled. ‘He said the same thing to me.’

  ‘I don’t think you look strange.’ She fidgeted with her pigtails, staring at Emily long and hard. ‘Daddy said you were sleeping, but I didn’t believe him.’

  Emily’s legs turned to jelly from the effort of standing. She planted each foot forward like a toddler learning to walk. ‘I was, but I’m not now.’

  ‘Good,’ she said in a serious tone, as if a very important matter had been settled. ‘I didn’t like it when you were asleep.’

  Emily was smiling to herself as she let herself into the en suite bathroom. She was a funny little girl, maybe a tiny bit precocious, but it was understandable that she would want attention, having a younger sick brother taking up the larger portion of their parents’ time. She just wanted to be noticed.

  After washing her hands, she let the sheet fall from her and went over to the full-length mirror. She inhaled sharply as she took in the state of her body. The only places free of bruising were from mid-thigh to her feet. The rest of her was a myriad of colours: red, purple, green, yellow and blue and almost black, she was startled to see, across the side of her left breast.

  She looked as battered as she felt. No wonder her body was septic. She realised it was probably the reason that she was still in possession of all her organs. They would want the infection to clear from her body first. She bit down hard on her lip to stop the cry escaping. She didn’t wish to distress the child in the room next door. She would get well soon enough with Dalloway looking after her. It was only a matter of time before she would be fit for surgery. Fixing a smile on her face, she went back into the bedroom to find that Isobel had gone. The brief entertainment, wrestling her mind from the darkness and throwing her some light, had disappeared, leaving her only with thoughts of what lay ahead . . .

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Someone had been in the office. Gary stared down at his chair and saw the pillow turned over on it. He hadn’t noticed it yesterday during all the excitement with the police being in the hospital to investigate the murder of Sister Barrows, and then that patient’s wife being caught in the act had been a real adrenaline rush. After today he was going back on his preferred night shifts. He’d only come in to dismantle his own equipment, though he was surprised he’d been asked to by Dallow
ay, seeing as it was evidence, and the police may want to see it. Perhaps Dalloway was nervy about the camera being put in place, though he ought not to be as it had saved a man’s life. Gary would have liked to have been recognised for his part in all of that. It may give him a second chance at joining the police force. At forty-two he didn’t reckon he was too old to join. He was fitter than most blokes who were a decade younger. And he was observant.

  He had flipped that pillow after spilling half a pot of yogurt on it. The pink stickiness had gone on his trousers as well as mostly between his legs. He’d damp-cleaned his trousers, but he had just turned the pillow over. Someone had moved it, but he couldn’t be sure if this had been before yesterday or since. He stared around the room, curious to see if anything else had been touched. Finding nothing out of place, he settled his eyes on the computer screen. Other than that patient’s wife with her soup thing, something more was happening here, something not quite right. A ward sister had been murdered for a starter. Emily Jacobs had come to his office all sweetness and light in search of a thief, which he didn’t really buy, considering that prior to that night she’d always given him the frigid stare. She’d been on the search for something alright, but had it really been for something as simple as a thief?

  He remembered the date she was interested in and turned the pillow back over, sitting down. He could be in for several hours of viewing, but nothing else more urgent was calling him. He would look for her in her normal clothes or a patient’s gown, as she’d said she had been a patient here and go from there. Getting more comfortable, he set about finding the file, feeling a frisson of excitement at the prospect of unearthing something. He’d look good in a policeman’s uniform and could see himself with his ID number in a silvery white on his epaulettes. Perhaps he could fast-track to detective, given his age and experience. He decided that if he found something suspicious on any recordings he was not going to go to Dalloway with it and miss out on the opportunity of being named as the finder. He’d give it straight to the police, so that his name was already known to them when he next applied.

  ‘Officer Burge,’ he said aloud, already imagining his role. ‘I am the police, so step aside.’

  He chuckled and reached for the marshmallow bag, stuffing the last two blobs of pink and white into his grinning mouth.

  *

  Geraldine packed the boot of her car with her brand-new outfit, hoping she would still get to attend the wedding at some point today. She had on her work skirt, blouse and jacket and bare legs, deciding in the end that it was too warm for tights. The flowered slide holding back her hair was not what she’d normally wear for work, nor were the diamond earrings, or the application of a full face of makeup. She’d been planning on looking gorgeous for her day out, rather than chasing up on something that would probably prove to be an innocent remark. Dalloway was going to be annoyed if she turned up with the same excuse a second time. ‘Well, tough titty,’ she said under her breath. It was her job to worry about incidentals, or anything else that concerned her for that matter. She would be failing at her job otherwise.

  She pulled out her mobile, calling Sergeant Martin’s mobile instead of the landline, to get an update from last night. Hopefully there would have been a sighting of Emily.

  Tony Martin picked up on the first ring and she could tell he was driving because of the echo of the car indicator.

  ‘Hi Geraldine, what are you up to, calling me on your day off? I thought you had a wedding to go to?’

  ‘I do. I’m just checking in before I go, to see how everything is going.’

  He barked a laugh. ‘It’s quiet. There’s still no sighting of your missing patient. I’m on the way to The Windsor Bridge Hospital to see if I can get any more on this Mrs Jeffries who tried to murder her husband. I don’t just want to go to the Crown Prosecution Service with a flask of soup in my hand.’

  She laughed. ‘You got it off to the lab safely, I hope.’

  ‘Of course. But I’m only expecting it to be tomato soup with some sort of fish base. From what I gather she knew he was allergic to it.’

  ‘So you definitely think she did this?’ asked Geraldine, hoping it wasn’t Emily who was involved instead.

  ‘She was caught red-handed, which is why I’m heading there now. To get more proof.’

  ‘So nothing new otherwise?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘OK, Tony, you have a good day then,’ she said and rang off.

  She tapped her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, noticing her nail varnish had already chipped, and wished she could let go of this disquieting feeling and just go back in her house and carry on getting ready, the matter put from her mind, so that she could enjoy her friend’s wedding. She hunted around in the passenger footwell in search of something to drink and spied the half-full bottle of Coke she’d bought to go with her Chinese, and an open packet of wine gums. Was Emily safe and sound, or half dying from some serious infection? In a few hours she would have been missing for two whole days. Anything could have happened to her in that time. Including her death, Geraldine feared. There were too many outcomes to consider and she sighed with resignation as a decision was made for her. She’d drive over to Dalloway’s house and ask him outright what he had meant. She would try and work out if he had been talking about Felicity. She would be gone for an hour at most, and then could get on with enjoying the rest of her day.

  *

  Emily’s eyes shot open as she felt someone grip her hand. Something was being pressed into her palm, and her knuckles and fingers were being forced to curl around a hard object. Her heart was hammering at being so abruptly woken, and she stared at Shelly with startled eyes.

  ‘You done it?’ Shelly asked.

  Emily shook her head in confusion.

  ‘Not you, dummy,’ Shelly replied impatiently. ‘Her.’

  Emily turned her head and saw Meredith on the other side of the bed, a syringe in her hand, a relieved look on her face. ‘It’s done.’

  They both stepped back and Emily instinctively made to get up, but her limbs were unbearably heavy, her head weighted like a boulder, her tongue thick in her mouth as she tried talking. ‘Wov yer gin me?’

  ‘Shut up,’ Shelly answered, and then handed a long-bladed knife to Meredith, holding it gingerly by the blade with finger and thumb gloved in blue rubber. ‘Now cut me,’ she said.

  Emily barely registered what she was seeing. But she heard Shelly cry out and saw bright red blood streaking down her arm.

  ‘Mad,’ she said slowly through numbed lips. ‘ ’Uckin’ mad,’ she mumbled, before her eyelids unwillingly closed, and she could see and hear them no more.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Dalloway opened his front door with a bloodied cloth in his hand and Geraldine stepped back in alarm.

  ‘She’s not here,’ he said bluntly.

  Geraldine’s eyes opened wide. ‘I’d better come in. I take it you’re talking about Emily?’

  ‘Look, she’s gone. You need to find her out there. I can’t talk, I’m dealing with an injury.’

  ‘I really need to come in, Mr Dalloway, if that’s the case.’

  He marched away, leaving his front door open as an invitation for her to follow. Geraldine closed the door, walking towards the sound of snuffles coming from a room. She was led into a kitchen that looked like it had come straight out of a glossy magazine. Rich wood countertops and sage-green units surrounded a table that could happily seat a dozen. It was a work table as well as a place to eat, judging by the dents and knife scores marring it, but she bet they were the original markings of this table and not a new job, made to look fashionably distressed.

  A blonde, curly-haired woman was sitting on one of the chairs, her face flushed with pain, mascara smudged beneath her eyes. She was pressing some gauze against her arm. Dalloway had a batch of fresh gauze set out in front of him, a small plastic pot of clear orange fluid and a packet of Steristrips.

  He dabbed gauze into the
liquid and said, ‘OK, take your hand away.’

  Geraldine saw a two-inch slit above the woman’s elbow. It wasn’t quite a needle and thread job, but it certainly needed more than a plaster. She stayed silent while Dalloway brought the skin edges together and bandaged it with a clean dressing. ‘Go and take some paracetamol and have a lie-down,’ he instructed the woman.

  Geraldine stepped forward and directed her question at the woman. ‘Before you do that, if you could spare a moment to answer some questions, that would be helpful.’

  Dalloway made the introductions. ‘This is my niece, Shelly. She’s been helping us while our nanny is away. Shelly, this is Detective Inspector Sutton.’

  Geraldine smiled, damning her stupidity for not thinking this the reason why Dalloway had known his childminder’s behaviour so intimately, especially as he was related to her. ‘Hello, Shelly, would you like to tell me if you have any experience of seeing Emily Jacobs?’

  Shelly glanced at Dalloway and reached out with her uninjured arm to hold his hand. ‘I heard banging at the front door and went to open it at the same time as Rupert. When I opened it, Emily was there, looking crazed. She tried to get past me when she saw Rupert, and I put up an arm to block her. I didn’t see she had a knife in her hand until she cut me.’

  Her face looked like it was about to crumple. Geraldine warded off the tears. ‘You’re doing well. What happened next?’

  ‘I slammed the door. I think I caught her arm, because she dropped the knife and then Rupert took charge.’

  Dalloway pointed to the draining board where a long-bladed knife sat. ‘I gave it a minute or so before opening the door again and by that time she was gone. I’ve searched the grounds and could find no sign of her, and even though I’ve kept windows and doors locked since your visit last night, I searched the house to be sure. She didn’t get in here, so she’s out there somewhere.’