She continued down the corridor until she found the intensive treatment unit. She stopped and took a deep breath before pushing open the door and heading over to the reception.
‘Can I help you?’ the voice belonged to a woman in her fifties who reminded her visually of Gloria on the firm’s own reception, but who was apparently far more pleasant.
‘Hi, yes, I’m here to see Chelsie Swanson please.’
‘Are you a relative madam?’
That caught Chloe by surprise, but she considered that a little white lie was nothing in the scheme of things, especially when she reminded herself of what she’d been involved in over the last couple of weeks.
‘Erm, yes, of course, I’m her sister Chloe. Chloe Swanson.’
‘Oh, right. Well I’m afraid she’s in an induced coma at the moment and can’t have any visitors. But you’re welcome to go down the corridor there and look through the glass. Let me just warn you that there are lots of wires and tubes, but it always looks worse than it is.’
Chloe didn’t agree; she remembered her mother looking beautiful until the night she died. In her case it certainly didn’t look worse than it was.
‘Thank you.’ She entered the corridor which the receptionist had pointed out to her. On the left there was a glass panel and Chloe braced herself as she walked out in front of it and looked into the room.
Even the receptionist’s warning could not have prepared her for what she saw. A ventilator handled the breathing and there were other tubes and wires all around the young girl, like something from a science fiction film. Chelsie looked so small and frail on the huge hospital bed surrounded by overwhelming machinery. Chloe steadied herself on the small ledge that ran under the window. She rested her forehead on the glass and stared.
How could anyone do this to such a defenceless young girl?
Thoughts of George entered her head and tears pricked her eyes. Surely he wasn’t going to lose his mother as she had lost hers all those years ago; she would never wish that on anyone. And he had no father to provide support as her own father had done. Chelsie had to pull through, she had to.
‘Excuse me, miss, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.’
Chloe looked up to see a hospital security guard heading towards her with a doctor by his side. She knew she’d been rumbled and didn’t want to make a fuss.
‘I’m sorry, I’m just a friend of Chelsie’s and I had to see her. I’ll go now. I’m sorry.’ She hurried down the corridor and past the burly security guard, who made no effort to stop her.
61
The Timer placed his hand on the lower front part of his jacket and felt the reassuring shape of the hunting knife hiding in the sheath on his belt. He knew Drabble kept guns on the premises but he also knew they were routinely locked away out of harm’s way. Only Mickey was out in the bar and he was confident that the young lad wasn’t about to burst in and start shooting.
‘Well? Where the fuck is she?’ repeated Drabble. ‘What have you done with her?’
‘I wasn’t expecting a child, Drabble. Jez never mentioned a child. I don’t want to be mixed up in anything to do with kids.’ The Timer glanced over towards Jez who was just out of his line of sight. He thought he saw him reach for something in the corner of the room.
‘Yeah, yeah, you said. So where is she? I won’t ask again.’
The Timer knew he had no choice but to come clean. He suspected that Drabble already knew he didn’t have the child.
‘She’s safe,’ he said, simply.
‘Safe? You mean you’ve got her somewhere safe?’
‘No, I mean she’s safe from you wankers.’
Drabble shook his head in resignation. He picked up the phone and waited.
‘Mickey? Lock up will you? We’re closed for the day.’
The Timer wasn’t aware that Jez had stalked round behind him, but he was certainly aware of the pain that shot up his leg as Jez smashed his knee with a baseball bat.
Drabble looked down at him as he lay on the plastic sheet. ‘You were good Mr T. I’m sorry it has to end this way, I really am.’ He sat down and nodded to Jez.
Mickey heard the screams from the bar. He tried to ignore it and carried on washing some glasses he’d just collected from the snooker hall. After a minute or two there was silence, then he could hear raised voices coming through the door.
Fuck it, I need to know what’s going on.
He didn’t even bother to knock as he stumbled through into the office.
‘Ah Mickey, late for the fight as usual I see? Well, at least you’re here now. As you can see, we need a hand with this,’ ordered Drabble, motioning towards the body lying on the sheet.
Mickey looked down at the Timer. There was no sign of life and blood was spattered across the plastic. He’d have struggled to recognise the man on the floor if he hadn’t seen him arrive. Jez had done a thorough job on him.
‘I guess he had it coming,’ he said, his voice shaking with the words, unable to take his eyes off the body on the floor.
‘Too fucking right he did. Messed up big time, and for the last time. Get rid of the body Mickey.’
‘Yes, boss. Usual place Jez?’
Jez looked a little crazed. He was still breathing heavily and a few splatters of blood had been smeared across his face. Slowly he raised his eyes from the body and looked at Mickey.
‘Yeah, whatever. Just make sure he isn’t found,’ said Jez at last.
‘Check he’s dead before you go, Mickey.’ Drabble turned and stared out the window. There seemed to be a sense of regret lingering in the air.
Mickey placed his fingers on the Timer’s neck and felt for a pulse. He was never any good at this. He couldn’t feel anything and moved his fingers around a little to double check.
And there it was. Faint, and slow, but he’d found the sign of life he was hoping for.
‘Yep, he’s dead,’ he said. ‘I’ll get him out of here.’
Hold on in there my friend. Just hold on in there.
62
Drabble continued to stare out the window of his office, but saw nothing. His mind was elsewhere, disturbed only by the rustling of the plastic being folded over and then a shuffle as it was dragged across the floor and out into the bar. Jez closed the door and sat down in front of the desk, and only then did Drabble turn round and take his own seat.
‘What a fucking mess,’ he said, looking at Jez. ‘We need to find a replacement child. Did you call that contact you have at the council? Didn’t you say he had some waifs and strays hanging around? He could probably lose one without anyone noticing couldn’t he?’
Jez sighed. ‘I did, yeah. He seemed to think he could help us, at the right price of course.’
‘I can understand that. How much does he want?’
‘Five grand.’
‘Sounds reasonable. There’s five in the safe. Get it over to him as soon as you can. We need to get moving on this. If the Kirklands arrive here and we haven’t got a child for them we’re all fucked.’
‘Yeah. Right, I’ll get on it. He’s a good lad this contact of mine. He’s already got a kid lined up for us, but there is a slight problem.’
‘Jez, I don’t want to know about problems. It’s all I fucking hear at the moment.’ Drabble’s voice began to rise again.
‘I know, I know,’ said Jez trying to keep his boss calm. ‘It’s just this kid - it’s a boy, not a girl like the one we lost.’
Drabble sat back in his chair thinking. He rubbed his chin and looked across at Jez.
‘Christ, we’ll look like a right load of Muppets. Well there’s not much we can do about it now. They never mentioned a girl to me when we were sorting this thing out. They only ever spoke about a kid.’
‘And obviously he’s not Dutch.’
‘I guessed as much. The buyers might be a bit upset, but I don’t suppose Stevie Kirkland will give a fuck about that. No, it’ll be fine. Give your contact the cash and make arrangements
to get this new kid over here. Nice one Jez.’
‘No problem boss.’
‘And Jez? Keep Mickey out of it will you? I can’t risk anything going wrong this time.’
‘Okay boss.’
Jez made his way into the bar and looked around for Mickey. There was no sign of him.
He’s keen, thought Jez. He’s probably already dumped the body in the reservoir.
63
Chloe arrived at work determined to put the events of the last few days out of her mind. She had files that needed her attention and she knew she’d been neglecting some of her other clients recently. For now, there was nothing she could do for Chelsie or George, so there was little point thinking about them.
Of course, this proved more difficult than it sounded, and although she cleared some outstanding matters, the morning was not as productive as she’d hoped, and her mind kept drifting to Chelsie lying in hospital with all those tubes and wires.
‘Well hello there.’ It was Ben, and his smile made her feel instantly better.
‘Hi Ben, how are you?’
‘Oh I’m fine, but how are you?’ He pulled up a chair from the empty desk next to Chloe’s and sat down. ‘I heard about your client Chelsie Swanson. Sounds like a right mess. I thought you might not have been in today.’
‘Well, there’s no point dwelling on it at home. I went to see her last night at the hospital. She looks awful. I honestly can’t see her getting through it. I just keep thinking about poor George.’
‘That’s her son, right?’
‘Yes, he’s safely at his grandmother’s house but I do worry about what will happen if she doesn’t pull through.’ Chloe pulled a tissue out of her pocket and dabbed her eyes.
‘I know it’s hard, but it’s best not to let it get to you. You can’t become emotionally involved in all your cases, or you’ll be a wreck by the time you’re thirty.’
She knew he was right, but she found it impossible not to care about these people. She’d always been protective of vulnerable people. She’d faced up to bullies at school and had made friends with kids who no one else wanted to know. It was part of who she was, and also the main reason she’d become a lawyer.
‘Let’s just hope she’s okay,’ she said simply.
‘Fancy going out tonight? How about a nice quiet meal? Or I could just come over to your place for a bit if you’re not up to it?’ He looked concerned as he stared at her, and she liked that he looked concerned.
‘Yeah, okay. Come over about seven. I’ll cook something, and my dad keeps going on about wanting to meet you properly.’
‘Ah, the protective father thing is it? Great, I’ll see you about seven then…’
Her phone rang and as she answered she waved at Ben. He returned the gesture and headed off back to his desk.
‘Hello, Chloe Webster speaking.’
‘Yes, hello, my name is Mr Lightbody and I’m calling from the local authority. I understand you act for Chelsie Swanson?’ The voice sounded distant and casual.
‘Yes, I do.’ Chloe wondered what this was all about. They’d only agreed recently to leave George in his grandmother’s care for a while.
‘It’s about the child… erm… George I think. Yes, George. In the light of the fact that his mother is unlikely to be able to care for him for some time the decision has been taken to place him into foster care sooner than had been anticipated. Tomorrow in fact. Parents have been found and the paperwork will be sorted down here at these offices. We’d like you to attend on his behalf.’ Chloe couldn’t believe how little emotion there was in the voice that was saying these words.
‘But he’s safe at his grandmother’s house, and happy too. He’s familiar with the surroundings and she’s only too pleased to have him there for as long as it takes for his mother to get better.’ Nothing sounded right about this to Chloe.
‘Hmm, if she gets better. Anyway, as I say, Miss Webster, the decision has been made. We’ll see you at eleven tomorrow.’
‘But this isn’t right; it’s not the best thing for George. Surely you can…’
Shit.
The line went dead. He’d hung up on her. Chloe took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. She’d have to sort it all out tomorrow when she went to the meeting. There must have been some kind of mistake.
64
A sharp splintering pain ran through his head and down his left leg. The Timer attempted to open his eyes but his left eye refused point blank to co-operate. He looked around as best he could and saw immediately that he was in a bedroom, but not one he recognised. The walls were painted a pale, neutral colour and the few pieces of furniture dotted around the place were tatty and mismatched. Although the curtains were drawn he could see daylight creeping in around the edges.
Memories of the attack came back to him easily. He hadn’t seen it coming, but he knew it was Jez, on Drabble’s orders. The look in Jez’s eyes had convinced him he wasn’t going to wake up again, but here he was, and now he needed to work out how badly he was hurt. And then work out where the hell he was.
He lifted his arms into the air above him. His left arm was much worse and was very badly bruised. He could just about move it around but it caused him to grimace as pain roared through his nerves. The other arm was painful too but not as bad and he certainly had the full range of movement in it. Neither arm seemed to be broken, though he couldn’t be sure of course. He rolled over to the edge of the bed and planted his feet on the floor. Pain shot up his back but it was manageable and eased as he stretched it. The main concern was his left leg. He was sure it must be broken and the pain was constant and intense. His head was the other worry. There was no mirror in this room but he knew his face must be a mess. The pillow on which he had been resting was heavily blood-stained, and again the pain was extreme. He sat on the edge of the bed and wondered if he could stand.
The distant sound of a key in a lock encouraged him to sit still and listen. He decided he must be upstairs and that it was a front door he could hear. The murmur of voices was followed by the unmistakeable sound of footsteps making their way upstairs. The door to the bedroom opened and Mickey came in grinning, followed closely by a man in a suit that the Timer had never seen before.
‘You’re awake then Mr T? I thought you’d be dead by this morning.’ Mickey came across as more self-assured and confident than he’d ever done before. ‘This is Doctor Obelade. He owes me a favour or two. We can trust him.’
The doctor was an overweight black man with a kindly face, dressed formally and carrying what could only be described as a doctor’s bag. He smiled and helped the Timer back into bed.
‘Bloody hell Mickey, am I pleased to see you. Where am I?’
‘My place. Drabble thinks you’re at the bottom of Ladybower reservoir.’
The doctor started to examine the Timer, moving his limbs around slowly and asking where the pain was and what it felt like.
‘And why aren’t I Mickey? At the bottom of the reservoir I mean?’
‘Come on Mr T. We’ve always been good mates haven’t we? Drabble and Jez treat me like shit, and it didn’t seem right what they did to you. When I realised you weren’t dead I knew I had to help you. I brought you straight here and you’ve slept since then. I had a job getting you up them stairs though. I reckon most of your bruises are from that.’
The Timer smiled and then grimaced with pain. The doctor was now examining his head and for the first time a look of concern had spread across his face.
‘So what are you gonna do now,’ Mickey continued. ‘You can’t let them get away with this Mr T.’
‘I don’t know, Mickey. I’ll probably just leave it. Move away maybe, you know, out of harm’s way. I don’t want Drabble to find out I’m still alive.’
He needed to be a little careful what he said to Mickey of course, who was still employed by Drabble as far as he knew. But he wouldn’t be moving away. And he wouldn’t let them get away with it. He still had his revenge to exact, a
nd this time there’d be no mistake.
The doctor finished his examination and delivered his verdict.
‘You’ve been very fortunate, sir. Your arms and your left leg are badly bruised but nothing is broken. Your head is also very badly hurt, but you must have a thick skull to have survived what was clearly a vicious attack. Ideally I’d like you to have a scan, but I suspect you won’t want to go to hospital. I’ll leave you some painkillers, but other than that, you just need rest.’
‘Thanks doctor, I appreciate it. I’m going to need all my strength soon.’
Mickey stared at the Timer. He knew his friend well. He respected him as a loyal man and one who maintained certain standards. There was no way he would let this lie. And he just hoped he could be there when Drabble and Jez were finally dealt with.
65
Chloe opened the door and welcomed Ben into the hallway with a hug. He shook his umbrella and placed it on the rack behind the door.
‘It really is foul out there,’ he said, dripping rain onto the carpet. ‘I’m soaked just coming from the car. Sorry about all the water.’
‘Don’t worry about it. Here, let me take your coat. I’ll pop it on the radiator to dry. Go on through to the kitchen. My dad’s in there, and dinner is nearly ready.’
Her father looked up from the newspaper he was reading at the kitchen table as Ben entered the room. He welcomed him to his home and shook his hand, offering him a seat.
‘Can I get you a beer or something Ben?’
‘Yes, why not, I’ll have whatever you’ve got there,’ he replied, pointing at the half empty glass of light brown liquid on the table. Ben looked around the homely room. Dominated by the wooden table, it had the feel of a farmhouse kitchen, like it was the centre of the house and the room which was used most often.
For the Sake of the Children: The first Chloe Webster thriller (Chloe Webster Thrillers Book 1) Page 14