by R. S. Higham
“James, ready to go?” Mike called to him as he opened the office door.
“Yeah, yeah I’m ready to go. Officer?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s going to happen to her?”
“She’ll stay here until she’s ready for the funeral home.”
“Alone?”
Mike put his hand on his shoulder and led him out. He had already locked Kate’s body back away and Red was waiting outside. “Are you gonna be OK?” He asked.
“What did you and Red talk about when I left, I’m sorry about that by the way.”
“Nothing, I let him hold her hand a little, I probably shouldn't, and he said something under his breath. It must have been difficult to see her that way, I didn’t know she... she was...”
“It’s OK.” James said, cutting him off.
The walk from reception to the car was silent, each of the men in their own world, none of them would be quite back to reality for a good few hours. Mike dropped them both back off at the bar and offered to drive James home but since the rain had stopped for now he declined.
“Are you sure?” Mike asked.
“Yeah, I feel like a walk.”
“Just be safe.” He nodded his head to him and sat back into his car, James watched him pull away. He took a deep breath and walked the same way Mike went, towards the police station. He had no reason to but he’d at least walk half a mile or so before going back to his cold, empty apartment.
Big puddles had formed already and not much further down the road a car flew passed nearly soaking him, although it wouldn’t make much difference as he couldn’t be much wetter now the rain had started up again, must have just been a break in the clouds. A heavy step in a puddle splashed water up his legs and seeped into his trainers, he shook his leg like a wet dog and watched the water fly out of it, he lost his balance. He hopped forwards and clawed for the lamppost but a sharp pain shot up his ankle and before he could blink he was falling head over heels down a grassy hill. The wet ground coated him in sludge and his feet couldn't get a grip beneath him, he finally came to a stop at the bottom, face down, his eyes locked on something. At first he thought he must be injured, he checked his body over but there was no sign and the only pain he felt was dull aching. “Then where is this blood from?” He looked down at his palms, they were covered in red liquid. He looked at the grass where he’d landed, it gleamed a scarlet colour in the light of the lamppost. He got to his feet and looked up. Police tape. All around the forest was yellow police tape. He felt his stomach wrench. A glob of sick rose into his throat burning it.
He stepped backwards up the hill. “It can’t be…” He scrambled to the top of the bank, his eyes failing to guide him as his imagination ran wild “did Stacey kill her there? Was she going to the police station?” He didn't register his feet hitting hard concrete and kept his body moving forward. The lights of an eighteen wheeler dazzled him into consciousness but the force of the truck soon knocked him back out of it. James’s body was launched into the air and slammed hard into the gritted road. A few minutes passed and the sound of traffic roused him, the world was out of focus. The sounds too. He could hear a voice, a man’s voice. Then a figure stood in front of him and kneeled down. James tried to squint his eyes but he couldn’t see him, he was just a black blur.
“I’ve called the ambulance.” The man said, this James managed to make out. “You’re gonna be OK.”
“What happened?” James tried to speak but it was inaudible. His vision finally left him, and the freezing Tarmac permeated his body, it shut down. “Please, try and stay awake.” –Was the last thing he heard before everything evanesced.
26
“James.”
“James!”
“James, can you hear me?”
“Who is that?”
“It’s Kate.”
“Kate!?”
“Yes, James.”
“I thought you were dead!?”
“I am dead.”
“Then how am I talking to you?”
“You’re asleep, James.”
“I’m dreaming?”
“Yes. You were hit by a truck. You’re in the hospital.”
“Why can’t I see you?”
“Open your eyes, James.”
“Kate! It is you!”
“Hello, James.”
“I miss you!”
“I miss you too.”
“What happened to you? Who killed you?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not real. You’re dreaming of me, remember?”
“Oh…”
“Don’t be sad, James. I’m still here, in your mind. If you don’t forget me, I’ll never truly be gone.”
“But it isn’t the same. You are gone. You’re dead. Why am I torturing myself? You’re not real; you aren’t really talking to me. I wish I could just wake up!”
“James!”
“Kate?”
“No, James. I’m the nurse. Susan. Who’s Kate?” A brown haired woman in a white dress stood over him, her smile stretching from ear to ear. She checked a machine next to his bed and then returned her gaze to him.
“We nearly lost you there. You’ve been out cold since they brought you in.”
“Where am I?”
“The hospital, silly.” She tucked in the sides of his blanket.
“How long have I been here?”
“Three days.”
“Three days!?”
The nurse laughed. “Well you’re full of beans this morning! Hard to believe after what you’ve been through.”
“What exactly happened to me? Am I injured?” James asked, pushing himself into a sitting position with his elbows before the nurse quickly pushed him back down again.
“Now, now. Don’t be getting ahead of yourself. You had a nasty head wound and heavy bruising on your spine and left side of your body. You are a lucky one. No breaks, just a bit banged up.”
“Then why was I out for so long?”
“We thought it best to keep you in a coma whilst we made sure there was no swelling on your brain or any serious injury. I reduced the barbiturate last night and took you off it this morning.” She smiled again, her slight Irish accent made her rosy face even friendlier.
“I’m so glad I’m alive.”
“Yeah, I bet you are. And I got a lovely peak at your bottom when I dressed you last night.” She winked.
James managed a smile. For the first time in ages it wasn’t forced, he had forgotten what it felt like.
“Thought that’d cheer you up, I’ll just be outside make sure you call if you need anything, the button is just here next to the mattress.” She pointed it out and left, waving at him through the glass strip in the door before she disappeared out of sight. James laid his head back on the soft pillows, considering he had been asleep for three days he was shattered. The lights in the room were a little too bright to sleep and he thought about buzzing for the nurse to turn them down but changed his mind, he didn't really want to go through all that again. He should probably try to stay awake, they would probably be serving breakfast soon although he wasn’t exactly sure what time it was. He checked the clock on the bedside table, it was just after eight. He opened his eyes and looked at the clock again, twenty five past eight now. I must have dozed off. He yawned and stretched his arms noticing something else on the table as he brought them back down. There was a book. It was one of his. ‘The Damask Killer’ “Oh brother…” Someone was a fan. “Must be my only one.” He thought. On it was a note.
“Just finished reading your latest book, loved it. Thought you could have a read too if you’re bored. All the best, Susan.”
“Great, I’ll read my own book, thanks Sue; I didn’t do that fifty times over during editing.” But maybe he would give it a go, it had been a long time since he wrote it and if it was anything to be proud of he should enjoy reading it the fifty first time. He picked it up, it was
quite thick. He didn’t even know how it felt to write one page any more never mind a whole book.
“To Audrey, who made this possible” He stuck his fingers down his throat in a childish way of showing disgust. “Ugh, what was I thinking? In fact, I bet she put that in.”
He began to read the first page. Then the second. Then the third. The more he read the more his face lit up, he barely even recognised his own words he had changed so much since he wrote that book; it felt like visiting an old friend. Susan peeked in through the window and saw him face deep in the pages. She made a little silent cheer and tottered off before he caught her. The fact was he really enjoyed it, some of the lines he remembered well, others not so well, but he soon sunk back down the bed when he realised this would probably be his best work, and it wasn’t even a bestseller. He was at his peak when he wrote this and ‘Vermeil Flood’ and he didn’t even know it at the time. Although, you never know you were on high until you are back at the bottom, and that’s exactly where he was. He placed it aside without marking his page and lay down on his side, he didn’t close his eyes. He couldn’t have slept with all these racing thoughts. He wanted to shut them off but he also wanted to listen to them. Kate came back into his mind, so did Stacey.
“No way.” He muttered. “No. Way.” He sat up. “Stacey, you… fat bastard. You killed her, didn’t you? It wasn’t Manny, it was you.” He pressed the button for the nurse, again and again, harder and harder. “Come on!”
A nurse, not Susan, came rushing in.
“Sir, are you alright? What’s wrong?”
“I need to leave.”
“I’m sorry but you can’t leave yet you –“
“I need to leave now!” He roared throwing off his blanket. The nurse half-heartedly tried to put it back over him but he gently pushed her back. He swung his legs over the side and hoped onto them, at first they didn’t hold him and he almost fell but he gripped the metal bed posts and pulled himself to his feet. The nurse was trying everything to calm him down and get him back onto the bed but he was completely ignoring her, she ran into the corridor and called for a doctor. A few more nurses came in and managed to get him back on the bed, he realised that he’d get a lot farther talking rather than running out of the hospital with his butt cheeks on show.
“Nurse, please. Listen to me.”
“I’m listening, Mr Jones, but you need to stay calm and don’t try anything like that again.”
“I need to get out of here now.”
“No, you don’t. You need to stay here for a few more days –“
“Days!? I don’t have days! My friend has been murdered and I know who killed her. I need to speak to the police now!”
The nurse rose and stared at him, she looked frightened. “I’ll certainly go and get them now then.”
James relaxed a little, he was thankful he had thought of him, of course it was Stacey, he must have known somehow that Kate was onto him. Suddenly James’s stomach flipped over. “It was all my fault. Stacey must have known, why else would he kill her?” He felt as though he was about to puke, he grabbed the waste paper basket next to his bed and heaved into it but his stomach was empty, he’d been on a drip for three days. His body started to sweat all over, he felt hungry and sick and cold and hot all at the same time. There was a glass of water on his bedside table, in a second he gulped it down but that didn’t help his rapid breathing. The hunger was crippling him now; he doubled over in pain and rocked himself on the bed. A passing nurse caught sight of him and rushed in, pressing a hand to his sweating head.
“Are you alright, sir? Do you need a drink of water?”
“Food.” James winced and scrunched up his face. “Please I need food!”
The nurse, panicking as breakfast wasn’t to be served for another hour, ran to the candy machine in the waiting room and bought a packet of crisps and a chocolate bar. She came in and opened the crisps for him.
“It’s the best I can do.” She said and James snatched the bag out of her hand and forced handfuls down his throat.
“No, it’s great!” He said, mouth bulging. “It’s perfect, thank you! Are the police here yet?”
“I just saw a police officer in the waiting room, is he here for you?”
“Yes!” James answered still stuffing his face.
“I’ll go and tell him he can come through then.”
James peeled open the candy bar as she shuffled out through the swinging doors and left towards reception. Shortly after a familiar police man came in with a sympathetic look smeared across his face like sloppy make-up just as James finished the last bite.
“Thank goodness you’re OK.” Mike said as he made his way to the chair next to James’s bed.
“In three days he hasn’t checked up on me?” James thought, the hunger and weakness had put him in an understandably bad mood.
“Yeah. It was a close one. How is the case going?”
“Not well at all I’m sorry to tell you, Manny had an alibi for the whole day and night.”
“It’s OK, I know who killed her now. It wasn’t Manny.”
“Then who?” Mike asked subconsciously dragging his chair closer.
“Stacey!” James smiled a wide eyed smile as though he was the bringer of some incredible news. But Mike’s interested expression faded.
“Him again.” He muttered.
“What do you mean ‘him again’ yes him, he killed her! I’m telling you he did it!”
“That’s all well and good James but frankly no one, not even you, knows where this guy lives. You’re the only person who knows he exists! How are we supposed to find him?”
“Well… can’t you track his cell phone number?”
“Not unless he’s ringing.”
“You met Red, speak to Red, he’s met him. Stacey is a regular at that bar. He might visit a little less often now he’s murdered the waitress but it’s your best bet. After all it’s where I first met him.”
“OK. I’ll talk to Red. When do you get out of here?”
“I’m not sure, maybe a day or so. Thank you.”
“It’s OK, I want to catch whoever killed her as much as you.”
James gritted his teeth. “Stacey.” He wanted to scream it at him. “Stacey killed her you dumb cop!”
“Well, I guess I’ll be off then.”
“Please believe me.” James tried for the last time.
“I’m trying, James. I’m on your side, remember?” He nodded his head and left. The doors still swung after he’d gone out of sight.
27
James must have nodded off because the sound of the breakfast tray startled him. The nurse was shocked when he jumped as she must have thought he was awake.
“Oh, I am sorry to have woke you.” She said, her toothy grin burning his eyes more than the bright hospital lights. It was Susan again. James tried to think of a witty name for her. Sneaky Susan. Smiley Susan.
“I’m sorry I didn’t catch your last name, Susan?”
“It’s O’Hara, dear.”
“Obsessive Susan O’Hara.” He chuckled “O’sessive Susan O’Hara if you want to be authentic.” Fortunately her focus was on pouring the tea and she didn’t notice him laughing.
“I hope you like tea, Mr Jones. It’s what they drink across the pond. Ever had it before?”
She asked as though tea was rare in America, most likely she was a little proud of her heritage. Despite it being readily available in most supermarkets he had visited England many times with his parents, it was one of their favourite places to holiday and as American’s they were very strict on only going to the same places each year. With his Dad being an airline pilot he was more accustomed to world travel and liked to take his family to what was basically his place of work, he was proud, but that didn't change the fact that they only ever accompanied him to one place.
Susan had made it a tad too milky and as a coffee drinker weak tea was tasteless, he liked the bitterness. But with a lot of sugar (meant for boosti
ng his energy and blood sugar) it was drinkable. She had also brought him some porridge and two pieces of toast. “Possibly.” James thought. “The worst breakfast combination ever.” The toast was dry and cold and the porridge was not much different in texture. It certainly didn’t help to settle his cramping stomach. He could see now why they hadn’t let him leave, his legs were burning like he’d just ran a mile, his body was close to eating itself and it wasn’t a good feeling. Hopefully he would be fitter tomorrow after his lunch and his dinner but right now he wanted to drift back to sleep. Shortly he did. His dreams were vivid but nonsense, every minute or so swapping to another scenario, his mind not relaxing much. Kate appeared again but it wasn’t like last time, she was lying lifeless on the floor. Then he saw it. Her murder. Through the murderers eyes. He saw her delicate neck get swallowed up under two giant hands. His hands. He tried to pull away but he couldn’t move, he was killing her and there was nothing he could do. He forced himself awake. He felt his face, it was wet and his knuckles were white. His heart was beating in his throat and as he swallowed his tongue felt like sandpaper scrapping the back of his neck. He grabbed the orange juice left on the side and took a few drinks but it didn’t help his throat much. It felt like he’d been strangling himself.
“It was my fault she died, I shouldn’t have dragged her into it, I shouldn’t have been so selfish.”
“No, you shouldn’t” A man’s voice spoke from behind the modesty curtain. James’s eyes adjusted to the bright hospital lights and he turned and glared at it, it sounded almost like... but it couldn’t be. Still, he was too fright to speak. He didn’t know he was here, did he? He couldn’t have just waltzed in, could he? James threw back the curtain. The orange juice rose in his throat as his fear manifested into a giant figure. It was Stacey. Beard, jacket, knuckle-less gloves and all. At first James thought he must still be dreaming, he wanted to pinch himself, but it felt so real, realer than his last dream and that was intense.