Luke Adams Boxset 1

by Dawson, H A

  Luke glanced to Imogen and smiled. ‘Nice perfume you’re wearing.’

  ‘You like it? It was a free sample. A bit more subtle than some of the others.’

  ‘It’s nice. Not too . . . you know . . . in your face.’

  ‘Do you think I’ve put enough on?’

  He nodded. ‘It’s perfect. Not overwhelming.’

  She reached to her handbag, retrieved a small mirror and checked her makeup. ‘My Mark never notices.’

  ‘Then he’s a fool.’

  She turned to him and smiled.

  It made him think of Crystal, and her delightful charm, glowing cheeks, and effervescent eyes, but then he remembered her pained expression and braking heart. Maybe if the circumstances had been different they could have shared something special. It was unfortunate timing and his agony lingered. He had been so sure she had been attracted to the casualness of their relationship. It was such a pity.

  ‘Left! Now!’ Imogen yelled.

  He pressed hard on the brakes and turned the car. It skidded and swerved before he regained control. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Good job I’m keeping an eye on you. I don’t know where we would have ended up otherwise.’

  ‘I was thinking.’

  ‘Evidently.’

  Two motorcyclists appeared at his rear. He slowed down and edged closer to the side. They roared by, disappearing into the distance and paying little respect to the puddles and hanging damp.

  ‘Have you noticed that car behind us?’ Imogen asked. ‘It’s been following us for a while.’

  He glanced in his rear view mirror. ‘The Renault?’

  ‘No, the silver one behind it. Do you think it’s Doctor Jerry’s lot?’

  A bubble of panic rose to his throat and his eyes widened. He tried to get a proper look at the driver, but the Renault blocked his view. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘What if someone caused Tim Canning to crash?’ she said. ‘They could do the same to us.’

  ‘That won’t happen.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s what Tim thought too. And you did say we were being watched at that living donor event in town.’

  He peered into his mirror. The car was still trailing him, but had dropped back a little further. Should he slow down and try to get a proper view, or should he speed away and try to lose it? He slowed down, increasing his vigilance.

  Just ahead on a side road, a car screeched to a standstill. Fearing it was going to hit them, Luke jerked and yanked the vehicle to the centre of the road. Then, moments later, a different car hogged his rear end. The driver’s motives seemed to be something more insidious than a simple desire to overtake, and his pulse quickened and his heat rose. He glanced at Imogen. She was turned away from him, hunched, and had her head buried into her phone. She didn’t seem at all perturbed.

  Imogen collapsed into laughter. ‘I so had you.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I couldn’t resist. He’s not following us. I made it up!’

  Luke looked into the rear view mirror: the silver car was nowhere in sight. He felt such a fool, and fought to stop his shame creasing his expression.

  ‘There’s every possibility it could have been following us,’ he said

  ‘Unlikely.’

  ‘O’Riordan knows what we are doing. He’s going to try to stop us.’

  Imogen chuckled. ‘I can’t believe you’re so gullible.’

  ‘You should take your job a bit more seriously!’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, stifling her amusement.

  The lounge in Lisa’s house was beautifully decorated with delicate patterned wallpaper, a wooden floor, dried flowers, and a leather suite, and upon one of the walls was a watercolour painting of Scott. The quality was superb.

  ‘I’ve just had it done,’ Lisa said.

  ‘It’s very good.’

  ‘Yes.’

  There was sadness in her gaze as she held her arms across her body and looked longingly at the image. She never had recovered from her desperate loss, and it intensified Luke’s yearning to assist.

  ‘You must have many happy memories,’ he said.

  She nodded, sorrowful. ‘Even though we had such a short amount of time together, I’m glad I knew him. It’s true what they say, that it’s better to have love and lost than not loved at all.’

  ‘I think you’re right.’

  ‘I know he wouldn’t have wanted me to be still grieving after all these years, and I haven’t, not really. Michelle’s parole has brought it all back to me.’

  ‘I hear you were good friends.’

  ‘Yes, for a short while. I imagined the four of us doing everything together long into the future. More fool me. I think she must have been planning his death all along.’

  ‘Not necessarily. It could have been an accident.’

  Lisa ran her hand across the side of her face. ‘I don’t know what to think. Part of me wants her to be innocent, but . . .’

  There was confusion in her face and he could understand why. It was bad enough to lose your husband, but impossible to understand how she coped when the murderer had been her best friend. Lisa had been deceived in a most heinous way, and must have wondered if Michelle had ever enjoyed her company. Michelle’s motive, if the murder was in fact planned, must have influenced every phrase, every decision.

  ‘Imogen tells me that Michelle often tried to promote the cause for living donors,’ Luke said.

  ‘Yes, she did. She’d bring around leaflets, but never forced it upon us. She must have wondered if we were a match for Brittany, but I don’t recall her ever asking outright.’

  ‘So neither of you was ever tested?’

  ‘No. Scott was interested, but I would have known if he had been tested.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’

  Lisa leaned back into the armchair and gazed at his face in the painting. ‘Because he was afraid of needles. Earlier that year he’d had an appointment at the hospital to do with a stomach problem, and they needed a blood sample. He made such a fuss about it. They had to virtually tie him down.’

  ‘He was that afraid?’

  ‘Oh yes. It was his one weakness. The worry made him physically sick. I think that was why Michelle didn’t push it, because she knew of his fear.’

  He was holding his hand to her cheek, mulling over his notes, when Imogen took over the interrogation and asked her about any connections Scott had had with the hospital. Imogen was thorough but uncovered nothing new. Bar routine outpatients visits, he had known no one within. However, there was one discrepancy.

  ‘Scott knew Tim.’ Luke said.

  Lisa shuffled, uneasy. ‘They had had a brief conversation. Tim warned him that someone wanted him dead. Scott didn’t believe him and thought the guy was a bit nuts. He didn’t know him from Adam and I think it freaked him out.’

  ‘Someone wanted him dead? Who?’

  ‘I don’t know. It wasn’t Michelle. Although Tim did say it was someone within the renal department.’

  ‘But she had been in renal a lot at the time. What makes you sure it wasn’t her?’

  ‘I can’t remember Tim’s exact words, but Scott and I both believed he meant a member of staff.’

  ‘You’re certain of that?’

  ‘Yes, as far as I can be. It was what he insinuated . . . definitely.’

  ‘But you can’t remember his exact words?’

  Lisa rubbed her hand across her mouth and shook her head.

  ‘That’s quite an accusation,’ Luke continued. ‘When did this occur?’

  ‘It was before his accident . . . the car crash.’

  ‘How did the crash happen?’

  She explained in detail their journey and how someone had pulled out in front of them. The circumstances did not seem suspicious and nothing irregular had been discovered.

  ‘Where had you been?’

  ‘One of Scott’s colleagues was retiring, and a few of them decided to have drinks in a bar. It wasn’t an official do or
anything.’

  ‘So it wasn’t in a private room?’

  ‘No, just a regular bar in town.’

  He wrote down the date, the place, and the names of Scott’s colleagues. ‘Did Scott make a full recovery?’

  ‘Yes.’ Her eyes glazed. ‘He did.’

  ‘Do you think the crash was an attempt on Scott’s life?’

  Lisa’s nod was filled with grief.

  It was a reasonable supposition. If Michelle had killed him later on, it was also logical to assume she had been the one who had attempted him to force him to crash.

  ‘Do you know who the other driver of his accident was?’ Luke asked.

  ‘I . . . I think he was from Poland. I’m not sure.’

  ‘A man?’

  ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Lisa said, ‘I’ve spent many hours wondering if it was Michelle, but it wasn’t. She had an alibi. There was no connection.’

  ‘Someone else could have done it for her.’

  ‘It’s possible.’

  Luke scratched his head. ‘Did you ever speak to Tim after Scott’s death?’

  ‘He denied saying anything. That’s why I never told anyone. I didn’t think anyone would believe me.’

  Luke watched, pensive, as Lisa fiddled with her fingernails, reabsorbing memories of her dilemma, and he imagined her searing grief. She had had no one to turn to, no one on her side. It must have been a terrible time.

  ‘I got the feeling someone threatened Tim,’ Lisa continued. ‘I think it was to do with his daughter, Alex. They warned him to stay away . . . said they’d hurt her.’

  ‘Is that what he told you?’

  ‘Yes, although what he said was a bit muddled. I could see he was terrified.’

  ‘Did you often see him?’

  ‘No, it was just the once. It wouldn’t bring Scott back so I saw no point.’ She leaned forward and rested her head in her hands. ‘Even so, we should have taken his warning more seriously.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Hindsight’s a wonderful thing.’

  Lisa’s frown deepened.

  ‘Do you think he could have been the person who wanted Scott dead?’

  ‘No.’ Her eyes darted. ‘No. It wouldn’t have been him.’

  She seemed very sure, and it concurred with his thoughts. He had been investigating renal, and that’s where he got his ideas from, and nothing more. However, why Scott Cole was a target remained a puzzle.

  ‘Did Tim ever say how he knew all this?’ Luke asked.

  Lisa glimpsed between them, searching for confidence. ‘He said he had evidence.’

  ‘What kind of evidence?’

  ‘A document.’

  Luke spun to face Imogen. His excitement was reflected in her face. ‘What kind of document?’

  ‘I think he said it was a list of names. I didn’t want to know. I wanted to grieve and wasn’t really interested.’

  ‘Did he ever say where he kept it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Anything you can remember would be useful. Did he ever mention hobbies or interests? What about clubs he was involved in?’

  ‘I think he played some sport or other. He was dressed in a tracksuit at the time and carried a sports bag.’

  ‘Was he a member of a club?’

  ‘I don’t know. It all happened a long time ago. You should speak to his wife.’

  ‘Thank you, we will.’

  Luke rose to his feet. A smile was stretched across his face.

  Finally, it was all starting to make sense.

  Chapter 25

  The yellow discolouration of Ethan’s pallor seemed worse than a few hours before and caused an ache inside to bloat, tightening Jason’s stomach and restricting his breaths. Urging a temporary relief, he heaved a heavy sigh, and laid his fingertips on his son’s dry, roughened skin. The little boy murmured and shuffled positions, but he remained unaware and in a peaceful slumber.

  Leaning back, and with his hands trapped under his arms, Jason searched for signs that Ethan would make a miraculous recovery. There was nothing there to give him hope; he looked like a wizened old man. His hair was desiccated and thinning, exposing his grey-yellow scalp, and his skin was without its usual youthful elasticity. It was heartbreaking. Ethan was dying before his very eyes.

  Jason’s panic bolted through his veins. He stood up, peered through the gap in the curtain and searched for assistance. None of the medics were in view. He paced around the edge of the bed, his arms tight on his abdomen, and stared at the bundle under the covers. Leaving Ethan to get help was not an option. What if something happened? Unable to stop the clattering sound of dread from battering his head, he returned to the gap and looked along the ward.

  Nurse Roberts appeared in the doorway. He lifted his arm and opened his mouth to speak, but all too quickly, she disappeared along the corridor. With a frown carved into his face and a little voice urging calmness, he slumped back onto the chair. They were doing everything they could. He had to believe.

  Clutching a fawn teddy donning a red jumper, he leaned back into the hard-backed chair and listened to the sound of mumbled voices of the other parents. There was a quiet and feigned enthusiasm in their tones, and unremitting false hope, and anger rose to his throat. It was all lies; their optimism was wholly unjustified.

  Or, perhaps it wasn’t for them.

  Jason’s heart sank. He and Ethan were the unlucky ones. Was it chance that this had happened or had he offended the Lord above? He grasped the cross hanging from his neck, pressed it between his fingers, and wondered why his son had not been blessed with good health. Just to have a few more years would be a blessing. He wasn’t greedy; he wasn’t hoping for a miracle or a leap in medical science. He simply hoped that his child could enjoy another day. He wanted to see his smiley face and toothy grin again; he wanted to hear the shrill tone of his laughter.

  He stretched out his legs and slipped a little way down the chair, and rested his gaze on Ethan. There was no tension in his young body, and his nostrils rose and fell in an easy rhythm. It was a small blessing as at least he wasn’t in any pain. In addition, it was better that he was freed of the agony of conscious thought, and couldn’t be thinking about all he missed. He was probably too young to be pondering his future, but he was old enough to realise this was not how other children spent their days.

  The agony of what he perceived could be Ethan’s thoughts twisted Jason’s gut. He had to help him, force clarity and hope into his mind, and urge him to keep fighting. Was that all the other parents were doing? At least for them, there was an element of truth in what they said. When Jason provided hope to Ethan, it was all lies. How would he cope if Ethan died and his last word to him had been a monumental deception? Maybe it would be better staying quiet.

  Beyond the curtain, was a shuffle of bodies and departing words. Jason could hear the slight quiver in a woman’s voice depicting her anxiety, and even though her speech sounded positive, she doubted her child would be fooled. Ethan never had been. He was surprisingly astute, and before his sudden decline seemed wise beyond his years.

  Tears welled. He pressed his arms tighter on his body and stared at his small son, who slept soundly and drifted through his dreams. Was he capable of creating pleasurable images or was he brain only fighting for survival?

  ‘Jason?’

  He spun around. Nurse Roberts was peering through the curtain.

  ‘You should go home. Get some rest.’

  He jerked his head towards Ethan.

  ‘You need to keep your strength up. I promise I’ll ring if there’s any change.’

  ‘Can’t I stay?’

  ‘Of course you can, but you’d be better in your own bed. Ethan is soundly asleep.’

  ‘I have to be with him.’

  ‘If you’re sure.’

  She was straightening out the sheets upon his bed, making it clear that Ethan was not going to awaken. Maybe she had a point.

  ‘You promise to ring if anything happens?’
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br />   ‘I will. You’ll feel better with a proper nights sleep.’

  Reluctantly, he kissed Ethan on his cheek and plodded out of the ward, reasoning that his son was going to be asleep for at least a few hours. He may even return once he had refreshed. There was no need to spend the entire night away.

  There was silence in the corridors, as most of the visitors had already departed, and it seemed a little eerie in contrast to the hustle and bustle of the daytime, but it was a good sensation, as though tranquillity had finally taken hold. He headed along a familiar route in a daze, stepped into the cool night air, and reached to his phone to check it was switched on. The screen displayed a missed call. It was Michelle and she had left a message urging him to ring. He pressed the dial button.

  ‘Jason,’ she said with an unusual urgency. ‘Can you come over? I’ve been injured.’

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘I . . . I’ll tell you when you get here. Can you bring a first aid kit, and plasters and lint?’

  ‘I don’t know, I-’

  ‘Please Jason. I don’t know whom else to call. I’ll pay for a taxi.’

  ‘Can’t you ring Brittany?’

  ‘I don’t want to bother her. She’s not well. And I can’t go to the hospital.’

  ‘Is it that bad?’

  Silence.

  ‘Michelle?’

  ‘No, but I do need you here. Please.’

  Jason exhaled. ‘Okay. Give me an hour. There’s something I have to do first.’

  Set back from the road and within its own tree-lined grounds, the church offered Jason respite from his destructive thoughts. Stepping through the gate, he could almost sense the Lords adoration, and interpreted it as a good sign. Perhaps they had not been forgotten after all.

  Travelling so as not to disturb the serenity, he strolled along the flowered walkway to the door near the tower, nodded his greeting to the vicar, who peered out of a side room, and headed to the pews. Once seated, he gave thanks for being provided with strength and for keeping Ethan alive for another day, and then, apologising for his selfish intent, prayed for a donated kidney, aware that someone had to die in return. A wave of calmness enveloped him, and a warm glow spread from his middle. He felt safe and reassured.