I'll Find You

by Liz Lawler

  ‘Yes,’ he said impatiently, ‘but what made you look for it?’

  He looked less sure. ‘Nurse Jacobs coming here the other night, I suppose. She had said she was looking for a patient who had stolen something from her. Then we had all that business with the woman giving her husband something she shouldn’t. I just—’

  ‘And how did you know about that?’ Tony interrupted. ‘What brought it to your attention?’

  His mouth twisted, his brow furrowed in concentration. ‘Well, it was her, I suppose. Nurse Jacobs. She told them. Mr Dalloway, Sister Barrows and the doctor from America all came here and looked at the footage. The American doctor told me Nurse Jacobs had found it, and told them about it.’ He paused, before adding, ‘I suppose it’s down to her that his wife got caught.’

  Sergeant Martin gave a confirming nod. ‘That’s right, DI Sutton. Though the recording Mr Burge has just shown me was not the hospital recording Emily Jacobs viewed. This recording is of a patient’s bedroom. It shows the patient’s wife in the act of preparing to give her husband soup.’

  Geraldine raised her eyebrows. ‘When did the doctors and the ward sister come to view this footage?’

  ‘Saturday. Mid-morning,’ Burge replied.

  Geraldine could not have been more surprised. Emily was locked up then. She was admitted to hospital Friday night. She escaped A&E on Sunday night. How had she managed to pass on this information? Why had she even cared enough to do so?

  She reached for her mobile just as it rang. Crawley’s name came up on the screen. She answered with trepidation.

  ‘We’ve got one result back,’ he said without the preamble of a hello. ‘They’re still analysing it for the blood of Nina Barrows, and need a sample from the woman who was cut with it today. But it has Emily Jacobs’ prints on the handle. A warrant for her arrest has been issued.’

  Geraldine swallowed hard. ‘I have some things to tell you that may change your mind about an arrest warrant.’

  ‘Well it can wait,’ he barked. ‘You can tell me everything you know about this young woman when we catch her. And if you’re not going to that wedding you were meant to have gone to hours ago, you can help out. Take a team with you and get out to this doctor’s place, though I don’t see her returning there to try a second attack. It’s more likely she’s on the run. If she does turn up, however, you call me first,’ he added.

  When the call ended Geraldine rubbed her face to relieve the tension. Her entire body felt taut.

  ‘I have some paracetamol if you have a headache,’ she heard the security guard offer.

  She swivelled slowly around in the chair, her intention to take her frustration out on him, but she couldn’t do it. She was not a bully, and the man, without realising it yet, was in enough trouble. ‘Yes, please,’ she said instead.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  At the doorway, Emily stood on trembling legs. The bedroom had been rearranged; Walter’s bed was no longer there. Instead he lay on one of the operating tables. A second one had been positioned close by, waiting for her to climb on. She’d briefly thought of trying to escape as Shelly walked behind her along the landing leading to this room, but gave up the intention before a plan was formed. She was tired of running, hiding and feeling alone. Maybe her life could save this boy’s; there were far worse ways to die, she imagined. Or maybe, despite everything she knew about them, they would let her wake up.

  Apart from the pictures up on the wall, the entire area now resembled an operating theatre. It held the same equipment, gave off the same sounds and even smelled like a theatre. The taint of disinfectant products hung in the air. They would have sterilised the place thoroughly before they could begin.

  Shelly pointed at a curtained screen. ‘There’s a gown behind it that you can put on.’

  Emily shuffled over to the screen, trailing her bed sheet behind her. The bag of IV fluids had been removed from her arm. The cannula had been capped to avoid bringing the saline drip. She was hydrated enough and she could only hope they’d put up more saline to replace the body fluids she would now lose. That they would take what they needed and not leave her to die. She dropped the sheet to the floor and pulled on the gown, its small printed pattern advertising The Windsor Bridge Hospital. Through a gap she could see Meredith and Dalloway gowned up and busy with equipment.

  ‘How did you manage with just a team of three of you?’ she asked.

  ‘There were four of us,’ Dalloway answered mildly. ‘My wife, Jemma, like her sister Meredith, is also an anaesthetist. Jemma helped me here. It was hard going, particularly for me, going straight from performing one operation to another. But we managed, didn’t we, dear?’

  Emily peered through the gap and saw a fourth person, gowned up and hair covered in a theatre cap. She looked unrecognisable as Jemma Dalloway. Emily would never have guessed she was Meredith’s sister either, with her red hair. ‘We did, dear, and we shall do so again,’ she said crisply.

  Emily stepped out from behind the screen.

  ‘You have to take that off,’ Shelly said, pointing to Emily’s neck.

  Emily reached up and protected her necklace. ‘I’m not taking it off. It’s all I have left of my sister.’

  ‘Well we’ll just remove it when you’re asleep then,’ Shelly said with a spiteful smile.

  ‘Is this despicable creature related to you, too?’ she asked Dalloway.

  Dalloway raised his head and stopped what he was doing, his expression regretful. ‘I’m sorry if my niece has offended you, but she’s fiercely protective of those she loves. Shelly has sacrificed much to support us through all of this.’

  ‘She’s not a healthcare assistant, is she?’

  He slowly shook his head. ‘No, she’s not. That role was only temporary. We needed people on the inside, the situation being what it is. She’s a qualified nurse. A scrub nurse in theatres, in fact, a senior sister in London,’ he said with a hint of pride. ‘We have much to be grateful for.’

  Emily wondered how he could be proud of such a person and thought that blood is indeed thicker than water. She thought back over the last few weeks and saw clearly now that Shelly had been playing not just the part of a healthcare assistant, but also a different person. In the background mostly, and being nice when they needed her to be. She must have been laughing the whole time, smirking when Emily instructed her on how to do things. She realised Shelly must have been watching her constantly, and had an enlightening thought. ‘It was you who gave Mr Patel something to eat.’

  Shelly sighed. ‘Well, you were just too brilliant, Emily. And I needed a way to get you out of there. You were never going to stop looking for her. I had to keep working there just to keep an eye on who you were talking to. I was hoping you’d take the fall for Mrs Harris. I told Jim Lanning you’d done a HemoCue test when he popped along to the loo, and was hoping Barrows would believe you had and not told Lanning the result, which would have resulted in your being sacked. He should have checked with you, of course, that you had. He was a crap nurse, who should have been able to tell how poorly she was without the test being done.’

  ‘She could have died!’ Emily exclaimed.

  ‘She didn’t, though, did she? And Rupert has already told me off, so enough of your sniping.’

  Emily eyed her with contempt. ‘You should be ashamed of her, not proud,’ she said to Dalloway.

  ‘We cannot all be the same, Emily,’ he offered quietly. ‘Shelly takes things to the extreme sometimes, but she had Walter’s interests at heart. For that, I have to forgive her.’

  Talk of Walter brought her back to the present. ‘Will you please put my necklace back on afterwards?’ she asked him.

  He nodded. ‘Of course I will. I understand how much it means to you.’ He patted the empty operating table. ‘Hop up, then. We’re ready for you.’

  ‘Are you even qualified to carry out such an operation?’ she asked, desperate to stall him. She could refuse to have it done. Fight them off. Try to make Dallowa
y see reason and end this madness.

  Shelly barked a laugh. ‘You don’t know anything about him, do you?’ she jeered. ‘You don’t know anything about his early career. Rupert was a pioneer in transplant surgery working in London and around the world at specialist centres. His life involved more than just removing gall bladders. Patients worshipped him for saving their lives with a transplant,’ she said in awe.

  ‘Thank you for that, Shelly,’ Dalloway said. ‘Though you make it sound like my life now is dull. The excitement of landing in a helicopter with the transplant team wasn’t always fun. I got hellishly sick at times on the damn thing. And my family has more than made up for the excitement of those days. You’re in safe hands, Emily. I won’t let you die.’

  Emily wanted to believe him. She undid her necklace, preparing to give it to him, noticing his hands were without gloves. He had not yet scrubbed up. Tears flooded her eyes as she walked the final few steps, her body shaking hard with fear. Would theirs be the last faces she would see? She lay down and turned her head to the side so that she could see the boy’s face. He was so young, she thought, too young to die. As the clear mask came down over her face, she whispered to him, ‘Good luck, Walter.’

  *

  Geraldine was pleased Ruth Moore could accompany her. Pleased she’d not been busy elsewhere. When not acting as a family liaison officer, Ruth carried out her regular duties as a police officer. The bonus was she knew Emily’s background and didn’t need the long story, only the short version as to why they were there. She was also happy to be the driver and parked tidily in a layby up one of the lanes, which gave them a clear view of the entrance to the private drive. Geraldine had two uniformed officers, who’d also come with them, positioned under some trees and had asked them to remove their hi-vis vests and put their radios on covert mode, as she didn’t want the fluorescent markings or the display screens on their radios highlighting their presence for passing vehicles when nightfall came. So far, in the short while they’d been there, no traffic had come this way. All officers involved in the operation were on a designated radio channel, and Geraldine had turned hers down low to cut out the noise in the car. She didn’t want to hear Crawley every five minutes asking for an update. It had just gone nine o’clock in the evening and the sky was dark with rain clouds. It had stayed fine all day, and she was glad of that for her friend’s sake. The bride and groom had had a wonderful day, according to her husband. She hoped the rain would stay off another few hours for the planned firework display.

  ‘This could be a long night,’ Geraldine murmured.

  ‘I’m on nights so I don’t mind,’ Ruth said. ‘I’ve been asleep all day.’

  ‘I’m wide awake, but it’s not down to sleep,’ she replied. ‘My nerves are on edge since finding out Emily really had seen a woman in her room. She never imagined her. We may have unhinged her by not believing her. Pushed her into killing someone.’

  ‘I pray to god she didn’t do it,’ Ruth remarked. ‘I like Emily.’

  ‘Well someone did, that’s for sure. And her prints are on the handle.’ A moment later she turned in her seat so that she could face Ruth. ‘Why didn’t others see the girl then?’

  ‘Because maybe they didn’t see her? In Emily’s room, that is.’ Ruth mused. ‘Maybe to them she was just another patient, wandering in and out of rooms. Have we found out who she is yet?’

  Geraldine shook her head. ‘No, not yet. Mr Dalloway and Nina Barrows denied she was ever there when I questioned them. Emily was convinced that it was Katka Vasile, but I know for a fact that it was not. While small with dark hair, the girl on the CCTV footage was not her. She could, like you say, have simply been another patient. Dalloway was going to go through the operating lists with me, but we didn’t get any further than that. I didn’t feel the need after speaking with him and Nina Barrows.’

  ‘But why did she think she’d died?’ Ruth asked.

  Geraldine sighed with frustration. ‘Maybe, as Nina Barrows said, she had a nightmare and dreamed it.’

  Ruth shrugged. ‘Maybe she was a patient and she simply died?’

  Geraldine gazed at her quizzically. ‘You mean she was in the bed beside her, even in the night?’

  ‘It’s possible.’

  ‘But why deny this happened? So as not to upset her?’ Geraldine’s eyes were sceptical. ‘I don’t buy that. Emily’s a nurse. She’s used to death.’

  ‘Maybe it was because she was young? Or maybe,’ Ruth added, ‘she shouldn’t have died. They gave her the wrong drugs? Put up the wrong drip? Did the wrong operation?’

  Wrong drugs? Wrong drip? Wrong operation? Geraldine didn’t like the sound of any of those suggestions. Had they lied to Emily to avoid an inquest? To hide the cause of death? Lied because of the very fact that she was a nurse, and would know what she had seen and what she was talking about if questioned? Had they really let a patient die in a British hospital and not reported it? Emily said she didn’t think the patient was English. But that didn’t mean she didn’t live in this country. Relatives may not have known she’d gone into hospital. Perhaps there was no one to question why she had died.

  Maybe she shouldn’t have died. The sentence beat a firm path through Geraldine’s mind. A death that shouldn’t have happened. A patient who nobody had known about. And worse, whose death hospital staff had tried to cover up. ‘Shit,’ she said aloud, her mind going ten to the dozen. She died! That’s what this was about. Emily witnessed her death. She heard them in the night trying to save her. Then they had to make out that she had never been there. This had been made easier because there had been no relatives knocking on their door. ‘Jesus Christ,’ Geraldine cried. ‘Emily, the poor girl, has been made to look mad because she witnessed it.’

  She flung open her car door. ‘Jesus Christ, Ruth, we shouldn’t be sitting here. Emily’s been missing two whole days. She’s not been seen since Sunday and it’s now Tuesday. She hasn’t gone back to her flat. She hasn’t been to her parents’ home. She hasn’t got in touch with anyone asking for help, as far as we know. She hasn’t been seen by anyone. Therefore it’s highly likely she’s up in that house being kept by Dalloway and goodness knows who else. Until now Dalloway’s home is the only place we haven’t been keeping tabs on. If they’ve covered up a death, they’ll do everything they can to shut Emily up.’ She was half out of the car. ‘Where the fuck is my brain? Sometimes I wonder.’

  ‘Whoa,’ Ruth cried, busy scrambling out of the car to answer, ‘we don’t know that the girl is dead.’

  ‘Yes we do,’ Geraldine said with conviction, staring at the house up on the hill. ‘Get the other two. We need backup.’

  Ruth reached for her radio.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Dalloway placed the necklace in a bathroom drawer. His surgical gloves lay ready beside the sink. A nailbrush and scrub soap were set out for his use. He turned on the mixer tap and began the well-practised art of proper handwashing, gliding the soap up to his elbows and following through with the brush. Meredith had been involved in the preparation of the patient: drugs, fluids, numerous infusions to set up, and monitoring machines that would be needed in an operation such as this. Her part of the procedure should be done by now. Her role played a significant part in the two operations he was about to perform. His was merely the cutting and removal of the smaller left lobe of a liver, which would regenerate in a few weeks as Shelly had said. There would be the same rate of growth when implanted inside his son.

  As he donned his gloves, he caught sight of his face in the mirror and saw that behind the steady stare of a surgeon there was a man who knew he was about to do wrong. He would go to prison for this, probably for the rest of his life, but it was a freedom he was prepared to give up for the life he could give back to his son.

  Ready, he made his way back to a room that had been turned into an operating theatre for a second time.

  *

  Geraldine was struggling to keep up with Ruth’s pace and stopped to dr
aw breath. She had instructed the two PCs to navigate their way up the hill and circle the place on the lookout for an unlocked entrance. Under no circumstances could they enter the premises unless they had her say-so.

  Ruth held out an arm for her to grab hold of, and half pulled her up the sloping drive. They were of a similar age, but unlike her, Ruth was trim and in great shape. After this job was over she would get fit, lose weight and not eat crap food anymore. As they approached the gravel drive she eyed it with frustration. They would have to quietly edge their way around through the flower beds to reach the house. Following Ruth’s lead, she put one foot in the dirt after her, remembering the property had a motion sensor outdoor light. There were two more cars now parked, besides Dalloway’s Alfa Romeo – one that she suspected belonged to Jemma Dalloway. There were lights on downstairs, but she could hear no sounds of a television or music or even the sounds of cooking. She wished they lived more like the Jacobs. The army could invade their home and they’d only realise it after the television was turned off. She concentrated on following in Ruth’s footprints. If she was wrong and Emily was not inside the house, she would deny that they had done this damage and blame it on a badger instead.

  She stiffened as she heard the voice of one of the PCs. ‘The back door is open.’ Not because she could hear him in her earpiece, but for the fact that he may as well have not bothered using his radio, for all the good it was doing at keeping their presence undetected, when she could hear him without it. He could have just stepped out and called to her.

  ‘Shut up,’ she hissed back, wishing she’d told him not to use his radio so close to the house. Or better still, not use it at all. She let a full minute pass before she tapped Ruth to proceed. They would advance towards the back door, as she certainly wasn’t going to chance a knock at the front door.

  *

  Dalloway stared at the patient on the operating table in confusion. She was exactly as he had left her nearly an hour ago. Anaesthetised, and apart from the addition of a tube down her throat to ventilate her, she lay with nothing more done to her. No drip lines had been set up, no infusions had commenced, no arterial line had been inserted for measuring her blood pressure. There were no wide-bore cannulas in the crooks of her arms. She had the same pink cannula which he had inserted last night. It wasn’t robust enough for the kind of fluid intake she would need. The blood, for starters, wouldn’t push through that narrow lumen.