by James Raven
His attention was then drawn to a car a few yards away which was a real mess. There was no one inside and he wondered whether the driver was one of those who’d been killed or seriously injured. The back end of the car was compressed by a couple of feet and the front offside wing was crushed, exposing the engine. The windscreen had gone and one of the rear wheels was missing. Then he noticed the front number plate which was hanging loose.
HYO4 XGA.
His breath caught in his throat as a memory snapped into place. No, it couldn’t be, he told himself. It’s not possible.
He rushed forward for a closer look. The car was a red Peugeot 307 with grey leather upholstery.
Oh God.
Panic swirled through his head as he realized that he knew this car as well as he knew his own.
It was Angel’s car.
And it was probably her blood that he could see splattered over the front seat.
CHAPTER 4
TEMPLE COULDN’T MOVE. It was as though his muscles had seized up. But his thoughts spun wildly and a rush of adrenaline made his body tingle. He told himself that the wrecked Peugeot did not belong to Angel. Surely he’d made a mistake about the number plate; easily done in all the confusion.
Angel was at home studying. She had told him earlier that she had no intention of going out. She was safe, unharmed.
So why hadn’t she been answering her phones?
He fumbled for his phone and speed-dialled Angel’s mobile. It rang three times before Angel’s voicemail kicked in.
Shit.
He stared down at the car, refusing to believe the evidence in front of his eyes. The blood on the front seat made his heart leap in his chest.
After a few more seconds of paralysis, he leaned inside the Peugeot and flicked open the glove compartment. The first thing he saw confirmed his worst fear. It was the Rod Stewart CD he had bought Angel for her last birthday. He held on to the Peugeot’s roof to steady himself. Then he drew in a couple of long breaths and tried to focus.
He needed to find out where Angel was and how badly she was injured. He had no religious convictions, but that didn’t stop him praying now that she wasn’t among those who had been killed.
He rushed over to where the fire officers were tackling the engine blaze. None of them knew who had been in the Peugeot. They suggested he talk to the paramedics or the traffic officer who was keeping a record of all those who were injured and required treatment. As he dashed around Temple felt somehow detached, as if out of his body and watching himself. It was a chilling sensation.
Eventually he found the officer who was keeping a written record of the casualties. And sure enough the name Angelica Metcalfe was on the list.
And she was alive!
‘She was in a red Peugeot,’ the officer said. ‘I’m afraid she suffered severe injuries and was taken to hospital by air ambulance about an hour ago. We recovered her handbag and were able to identify her.’
A wave of relief washed over the detective. He asked the officer if he knew how badly hurt Angel was but the guy said he didn’t know.
‘I got the information from a paramedic,’ he said. ‘I didn’t actually see her myself.’
Temple decided to go straight to the hospital even though he was the investigating officer in charge of the crime scene. Too bad if the move drew criticism from higher up the chain of command. But first he sought out DS Vaughan who was shocked to hear about Angel. He and she were good friends and usually worked as a team.
‘You just go, guv,’ Vaughan said. ‘Don’t worry about what’s going on here. We’ve got it covered. Call me when you know how she is.’
Temple commandeered one of the fast-response BMWs and told the driver to take him to Southampton General Hospital.
‘Get me there as quickly as you can,’ he said.
The police driver dropped him outside the emergency entrance and he hurried in.
Not surprisingly it was full to capacity. He walked past the queue at the admittance desk and stopped a male orderly who was carrying a clipboard.
He showed the orderly his warrant card and said, ‘I need your help. A police officer named Angelica Metcalfe was brought here by air ambulance from the M27. I want to know where she is and how she is.’
The orderly must have sensed from his tone that he wasn’t about to be fobbed off. He told Temple to wait while he went to find out. Temple stood there feeling dread pour through him. The scene around him appeared chaotic and the staff were extremely busy. All the seats in the waiting area were taken and several people were nursing physical injuries. He saw two uniformed police officers enter through swing doors and was about to approach them when the orderly appeared at his side.
‘Miss Metcalfe is in resuscitation, sir,’ he said. ‘I’ve been asked to take you there.’
At the entrance to the resuscitation area Temple was met by a chunky nurse with bottle-blonde hair and a husky voice. She introduced herself as Nurse Fisher and asked to see his credentials.
‘Angel is not just one of my officers,’ he explained as he flashed his ID. ‘She’s also my girlfriend.’
The nurse’s features softened slightly and she reached out to take his elbow.
‘Oh, I see. I didn’t realize.’
‘So how is she?’ Temple asked, his voice cracking with emotion.
The nurse clenched her bottom lip between her teeth, as though wondering how much to tell him, then said, ‘The good news is she’s alive and receiving the best possible treatment, Mr Temple. We’re in the process of carrying out various tests. However, she has suffered significant injuries, but her condition is stable. The doctor will explain things to you in more detail.’
The nurse tightened her grip on his arm and steered him into a busy room with cubicles along both walls. Some had curtains across them. Others were open to reveal patients lying on beds.
The nurse gestured towards an open cubicle on the left. Two men stood next to it – one in a white coat and the other in green medical scrubs. They both looked up as the nurse led him towards them. But Temple’s eyes were fixed on the bed and the person in it. He recognized Angel immediately despite the bandages across her forehead and shoulder and the oxygen mask covering her mouth and nose. The sight of her sent a bolt of ice down his spine.
He stepped up to the bed and swallowed back the lump that rose in his throat. A collection of electrode pads was attached to Angel’s chest, relaying a flow of information into a computer. A raised monitor bleeped and hummed and told the doctors what was going on inside her body. What Temple could see of her face was the colour of alabaster and there were dark bruises on her neck and right cheek. She was unconscious, but it was impossible to gauge the extent of her injuries beneath the light sheet that covered most of her body and was stained in places with blood. Her left arm was resting at her side and an IV tube was inserted into it. Temple reached out and grasped her hand. It was soft and warm and he was disheartened when her fingers did not respond to his touch.
He suddenly became aware that someone was talking to him. He turned and saw that it was the man in the white coat. The other man had disappeared.
‘I’m Doctor Bellamy,’ the man was saying. ‘The nurse tells me you’re Miss Metcalfe’s boss – and her boyfriend.’
Temple nodded as he pulled the doctor’s face into focus. The man was about fifty with grey hair and wrinkles bunched around the edges of his mouth.
‘How badly hurt is she?’ Temple asked, his voice pitched high with concern.
The doctor twisted his lower jaw as he considered his response and Temple felt his stomach roll.
‘Her injuries include two broken ribs and a punctured lung, plus various contusions,’ the doctor said. ‘The damage to the lung should heal by itself in time. As you can see we’ve managed to stabilize her and, although she’s wearing an oxygen mask, she is able to breathe by herself, which is very encouraging.’
Temple turned to look at Angel and felt the heat of tears rise in his
eyes.
The doctor continued speaking and every word jabbed at his mind like a sharp object.
‘She has also suffered a concussion, I’m afraid. In the collision she was thrown against the windscreen quite forcefully. We’re about to take her down for CT and MRI scans to see if there’s any brain damage. However, she did regain consciousness briefly when she came in and that’s certainly a good sign. She’s out to the world now because we’ve given her a strong sedative.’
Temple’s head was full of words he couldn’t say. He stared down at Angel, the woman who had given him his life back after his wife’s death. He would have done anything to be able to trade places with her. But he knew he was completely powerless. All he could do was wait and worry and pray that she pulled through.
‘She’s in safe hands, Mr Temple,’ the doctor assured him. ‘Given the circumstances her condition could have been much worse.’
Nurse Fisher took Temple by the arm and eased him away from the bed. He was reluctant to go.
‘It’s best if you wait outside for now, Mr Temple,’ she said. ‘We’re taking her for the scans.’
As she led him towards the door he found it hard to control his thoughts. She guided him to a small empty waiting room. On the way she handed him Angel’s handbag which had been retrieved by the paramedics at the scene.
‘Her phone and purse are inside,’ she said. ‘I checked.’
The waiting room was bathed in a harsh light and contained two armchairs and a sofa. There was a strong hospital smell of disinfectant and floor polish.
Temple sat down clutching Angel’s handbag and the nurse went away to fetch him a cup of tea. It was then that it really hit him and, despite his best efforts, he started to cry. As the tears flowed, he made a promise to himself. He swore that he would find the bastard who had done this to his beloved Angel.
No matter how long it took.
CHAPTER 5
TEMPLE HAD HATED hospitals ever since the long, drawn-out death of his wife from cancer. Waiting around and watching Erin suffer had served only to compound his sense of hopelessness.
Now he was reminded of those long, dark days and nights. He was back in the same hospital trying to come to terms with another tragic event. And the same feelings of dread and despair were surging through him. By the time the nurse came back with his tea the tears had dried to salty tracks on his cheeks and he had regained his composure.
‘You should go home and get some rest,’ she said. ‘If there’s a change in her condition we’ll call you.’
‘I want to be here when she comes back from the scans,’ he said.
‘Well, as soon as we have the results I’ll let you know.’
The nurse left him alone and for several minutes he just sat there sipping at something brown and tepid that masqueraded as tea. A restless energy burned through him and the headache that had started at the base of his skull spread quickly. In need of a distraction he took out his phone and called the Chief Super.
‘DS Vaughan told me what happened,’ Beresford said. ‘How is Angel?’
‘She’s not well,’ Temple said. ‘Broken ribs, punctured lung and concussion. They’re doing an MRI scan now.’
‘Well, I’m about to head out to the motorway to have a look for myself,’ Beresford said. ‘I’ll stop by the hospital on the way. So hang in there, Jeff. I’m sure she’ll be fine.’
Temple hung up and opened Angel’s handbag. He rummaged inside and found her purse, her notebook and her mobile phone. The phone was still on and the first thing he noticed was that she’d had several missed calls. The last couple were from him and there was one at 2 p.m. that afternoon from a number he didn’t recognize. The caller had left a voice message and when he opened it up a woman said, ‘Hi Miss Metcalfe. It’s Kate here from Regency Fashions. Just to let you know that your dress is in and ready for collection.’
Temple recalled that Regency Fashions was the name of a shop they had visited the previous Saturday at Gun Wharf Quays in Portsmouth. Angel had bought a dress that had required alterations. He quickly phoned the shop to ask whether she’d been along that afternoon to pick up the dress. The shop was closed but a member of staff who introduced herself as Julie was still there to answer the phone.
‘Yes, Miss Metcalfe was here,’ she said. ‘She tried on the dress and left with it just after five.’
Temple felt his heart freeze over. Jesus, he thought. How could Angel have been so unlucky? A simple trip to pick up a dress had almost got her killed.
He got up and started pacing the room, his breath suddenly so laboured that he was almost wheezing. He was still alone in the room half an hour later when Beresford turned up. The Chief Super was a broad-shouldered Welshman with a misshapen nose that gave him a rugged appearance. He was out of uniform and chewing nicotine gum – a habit he’d acquired whilst trying to give up cigarettes. Temple had a lot of respect for the guy. He was a decent, no-bullshit boss who was pegged as a rising star in the constabulary. He’d been running Major Investigations for a year and had made a big impression on the team and the hierarchy.
‘Is there any more news?’ he asked.
Temple shook his head. ‘She’s still having tests. I should get an update any minute.’
They both sat down and Temple told Beresford about Angel’s injuries. His voice came out shaking and he fought to control it.
‘Then you need to stay with her,’ Beresford said, his Welsh accent suddenly more pronounced. ‘That’s why I dropped by. I wanted to tell you not to worry about the case. I’ll put someone else in charge.’
Temple shook his head. ‘I want to stay on this one, guv. I want to find the maniac who did this to her.’
‘But I don’t think you’ll be able to concentrate.’
‘I will if I know she’s going to be OK. It’ll be my way of coping. If I have to sit around all day worrying about her I’ll go insane.’
Beresford started to speak, but stopped himself when the door opened and Dr Bellamy walked in.
The doctor told Temple that the scans showed no significant injury inside Angel’s head.
‘But we’ll need to monitor her closely,’ he said. ‘She suffered quite a blow and we can’t be sure there isn’t microscopic damage to brain cells which wouldn’t show on the CT scan. Also, concussion can be unpredictable and cause other problems to develop.’
‘Such as?’
‘Well, physical symptoms can include seizures, blurred vision, chronic headaches and a reduced sense of smell. It can also cause depression, memory loss and personality changes.’
‘My God.’
‘I’m not saying she’ll develop any of those symptoms,’ the doctor added quickly. ‘At the moment she’s responding well to treatment and she’ll be out for the count until morning. You’re welcome to stay here with her, but I don’t think it’s necessary. She won’t wake until morning and we’ve got everything under control.’
‘I’d like to see her,’ Temple said.
‘Of course.’
Angel looked worse than she had before and Temple felt a sudden jolt of alarm. The colour had been sucked out of her face and there were deep hollows under her eyes. He leaned over the bed and kissed her forehead.
‘I love you, sweetheart,’ he whispered.
He wanted to wrap her up in his arms and comfort her, but she looked too fragile even to touch.
Dr Bellamy, who was standing beside him, said, ‘Give the nurse your contact details and go and get some rest. We’ll take good care of her. I promise.’
The nurse walked with him back to the waiting room and he asked her to put Angel’s handbag in a safe place.
‘I’ve taken out her purse and mobile,’ he said. ‘But it’s got her make-up and stuff in it and she doesn’t like to be without it.’
The nurse smiled and took the bag. He also gave her one of his cards.
‘I’ll be back in a little while,’ he said. ‘But don’t hesitate to call me in the meantime.’
Beresford was standing with his back to the window and his phone to his ear. He ended his call abruptly when Temple entered the room.
‘She looks rough,’ Temple said.
Beresford nodded. ‘She’s bound to, Jeff. Are you going to stay?’
Temple shook his head. ‘My being here won’t speed up her recovery. If anything I’ll only be in the way. They’ll call me if there’s any change in her condition. So let’s get going. We’ve got a killer to catch.’
CHAPTER 6
TEMPLE EXPERIENCED A spasm of guilt as he left the hospital. Maybe I should have stayed, he thought, leaving probably made him seem like a heartless bastard to Beresford.
But the doctor had told him there was no need to remain at Angel’s bedside because she was sedated and would be asleep until morning. At the same time he’d make sure he would get regular updates from the hospital. So there seemed little point in hanging around when he could be putting his talents to good use tracking down the psycho responsible.
Nevertheless, he had to force himself to stop thinking about Angel and focus on what had happened on the motorway.
He hadn’t yet had time to construct any theories. All he knew was that Angel and the other motorists had been the victims of a gunman. To his knowledge it was the first time someone had shot at drivers on a motorway in the UK with a highpowered rifle. He’d heard of it happening some years ago in the Netherlands, but the details were vague so he made a mental note to check it out.
As Beresford’s chauffeur-driven car sped towards the motorway with the siren on, he concentrated on things that needed to be done and questions that needed to be asked.
What kind of weapon was used by the shooter? Which car was targeted first? What exactly would the killer have seen from where he was positioned? Were they sure that no other cars had been fired on?
They also needed to determine whether a terrorist was responsible. If so, then someone higher up the foodchain would probably assume control of the investigation; it’d change from being a local murder case to a full-blown national inquiry.