Losing You

by Susan Lewis

  Understanding that the clarity of her image had probably come from the news, Russ said, ‘I know it’s going to be impossible to put any of it out of your mind, but you have to try ...’

  ‘OK, you tell me how!’

  ‘Well, to begin with, shutting yourself away up here isn’t going to help ...’

  ‘So what do you want me to do, pretend it hasn’t happened? I’m sorry, I can’t do that.’

  ‘Of course not, but right now there’s nothing you can do to change things, and the job’s still open with Paul Granger so maybe you should take it.’

  ‘And be grateful?’

  Ignoring the bitterness, Russ said, ‘And throw yourself into it to help pass the time until we have a better idea of what’s going to happen.’

  ‘You mean with her ...’

  ‘I mean with you. Whichever way things go with Lauren Scott now, you will still be facing charges, so maybe the way you conduct yourself during this time could count in your favour if you’re seen to be doing the right thing.’

  ‘And that would be working for you?’

  ‘Oliver, don’t make this even harder than it already is. I’m trying to help you, for God’s sake.’

  Dropping his head in his hands, Oliver pushed his fingers into his hair and wrenched it by the roots. ‘I should have rung you from the party,’ he seethed angrily. ‘I know that now. All my mates, everyone keeps emailing and asking why the hell I took off the way I did. Some of the things they’re saying ... They’re really going for me. Not that I blame them, I know it was my fault, but I didn’t set out for it to happen.’

  ‘Of course you didn’t, and they know that.’

  ‘Some of them might, but I’ve started getting hate mail even from people I don’t know. They’re saying I’ve always been arrogant and too full of myself ... Someone even tried to say I used to go out with Lauren Scott and this is what I’ve done to get my own back because she chucked me. Can you believe that? I’d never even heard of her before Saturday, and how the hell was I supposed to know she was going to be on that road, when I’ve never spoken to her before in my life?’

  ‘People can get very mixed up and misinformed at times like this. Quite often there’s no point trying to reason with them. Many of them really don’t know what they’re talking about. They just jump on a bandwagon and think they have the authority to say whatever they like, whenever they like, as if they’re the only ones who have right on their side.’

  Oliver’s head went down. ‘It’s the worst thing about Facebook,’ he said. ‘Everyone’s putting stuff on my wall ... You should see some of it.’

  Guessing he’d probably rather not, Russ said, ‘It might be a good idea to stay away from it for a while. Just keep a low profile, stay out of town and get some work experience under your belt with Paul.’

  Oliver nodded, then looked up at the sound of something crashing outside.

  Russ’s eyes closed as he murmured, ‘Please don’t let that be what I think it is.’

  As he turned to the window overlooking the forecourt, Oliver came up behind him and cried disgustedly, ‘God, just look at her. She’s taking your car.’

  Able to see that, as well as the dent in Angie’s newly sprayed Renault, Russ took off out of the room and down the stairs, but by the time he reached the forecourt Sylvie was already speeding through the gates at the end of the drive. He supposed he should feel thankful that she’d bothered to open them.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Oliver asked, as he joined him.

  Having no clear idea of what could be done, since this was obviously another attempt to escape a clinic, Russ simply shook his head and put an arm round Oliver’s shoulders.

  Chapter Fifteen

  CLIVE ANDREWS WAS sitting outside the neurology unit in a marked police car when Jackie Dennis, the inspector in charge of the Scott/Lomax investigation, called his mobile.

  ‘Clive,’ she said, when he answered. ‘I hope this is a good time.’

  ‘Depends,’ he responded drily. ‘What can I do for you, Inspector?’

  ‘It’s about Lauren Scott. Are you with the family at the moment?’

  ‘Not exactly. I’m waiting to drive Emma Scott home for the night.’

  ‘I see. How’s the girl?’

  ‘Hanging on in there, but exactly what she’s hanging on to is hard to say.’

  Sounding suitably sombre, Dennis said, ‘This can’t be easy for the family. Everything I’ve heard or read about the girl these past couple of days tells me what a bright young lady she was.’

  ‘Is,’ Andrews said stiffly.

  ‘Sorry, of course.’

  OK, there was a chance Lauren Scott might not be that person any more, but as they didn’t know anything for certain yet, Andrews was going to believe there was hope.

  ‘So, before I get into updating you from my end,’ Dennis continued, ‘has anyone from the family come up with any sort of explanation yet about where Lauren might have been before the accident?’

  ‘No. I don’t think any of them know.’

  ‘Mm, that’s what I thought, and there’s nothing on her Facebook page about what she was doing on Saturday night, apart from going out with her friend Melissa, which we know didn’t happen. There are dozens of messages turning up from other friends, wishing her well. They’re very moving. She was – is – a popular girl.’

  Appreciating the correction, Andrews said, ‘What about the mobile phone? Any leads there?’

  ‘I’m coming to it. First though, has there been any sign of a boyfriend either calling Mrs Scott to find out how his girlfriend is, or turning up at the hospital?’

  ‘Not that I’m aware of. No one’s even mentioned that she has one.’

  ‘And her relationship status on Facebook is single, if that means anything. Being as pretty as she is ...’

  ‘Excuse me interrupting, but I’m wondering why it’s relevant? We know who committed the crime on Saturday night, so why the investigation into Lauren’s movements?’

  ‘Procedure, and the fact that we don’t want the defence digging up something that might help get their lad off that we don’t already know about. Plus all the secrecy surrounding where she was before Lomax hit her is cause for suspicion of a second, possibly unrelated crime.’

  Andrews had to concede that was true. ‘So where are you going with it?’

  ‘Several places, one of which is an address just outside Glastonbury which we found in a text to her mobile, received Saturday afternoon, along with directions of how to get there.’

  Andrews wasn’t sure why he felt surprised; after all, he was hardly familiar with Lauren’s friends or activities. ‘So what is this place?’ he prompted. ‘Have any of the locals been to check it out?’

  ‘They have, and apparently it’s an old millworker’s cottage belonging to a Mr and Mrs Ian and Rachel Osmond of Kew, London. They use it as a weekend retreat, so they weren’t in residence when our chaps turned up earlier. But we managed to get hold of Mrs Osmond at her shop in Chiswick, and she informed us that she and her husband were in Suffolk at the weekend, visiting her parents.’

  ‘So could she throw any light on why Lauren might be visiting her cottage?’

  ‘No. In fact, she claims never to have heard of Lauren. We’re still waiting to speak to Mr Osmond.’

  ‘You’ve obviously tried the number the text came from?’

  ‘Of course, but we just keep getting bumped through to a recorded message. It doesn’t correspond with either of the mobile numbers Mrs Osmond gave us for herself and her husband, but that doesn’t tell us much, because if it’s his he wouldn’t be the first cheating bastard to own a phone his wife knows nothing about.’

  Remembering that Jackie Dennis was one such wife, now ex, Andrews said, ‘So without even seeing or speaking to this guy, you’re thinking he and Lauren might be involved?’

  ‘Aren’t you?’

  He had to admit, he was. ‘Does the in-laws’ alibi check out?’ he asked.
<
br />   ‘It’s in progress, and we’re waiting to hear back from O2 with details of who the unidentified number is registered to. Meanwhile, I’d like you to ask the Scotts if either of them knows the Osmonds, or if the mystery number is familiar to them. I’ll text it to you when we’ve finished this call. We also need a DNA sample from them both to try and establish if anyone else could have been in the car on Saturday besides Lauren.’

  ‘Is there a suggestion someone might have been?’

  ‘Not yet, we’re still waiting on forensics, but they can’t tell us much until they’re able to eliminate the obvious candidates such as parents and friends, which reminds me, someone still needs to talk to Melissa Hunter.’

  Spotting Emma looking for his car, Andrews started to get out as he said, ‘I need to ring off now. I’ll get back to you once I’ve spoken to the Scotts.’

  Twenty minutes later, having expected to be at least halfway home by now, Emma was back in the ITU waiting room, feeling utterly drained, and not a little unnerved by what Clive Andrews had just told her and Will.

  ‘So neither of you know the Osmonds?’ Andrews asked, fixing them both with his shrewd, but kindly eyes.

  Emma shook her head.

  ‘Never heard of them,’ Will said croakily.

  ‘Apparently Rachel Osmond works in Chiswick,’ Andrews offered. ‘Isn’t that where you used to live?’

  ‘Yes, but ...’ Emma couldn’t think what she wanted to say. She longed for this all just to go away, no more questions, no more shocks, no more hospitals or life support, just her and Lauren safe and together the way they’d always been. This place was alien, wrong, they shouldn’t be here at all.

  ‘Chiswick’s a big place,’ Will said.

  ‘Of course, but I’m wondering if they might be the parents of one of Lauren’s friends.’

  ‘I don’t know anyone by that name,’ Emma told him. ‘Have you asked any of her friends, or someone at the school?’

  ‘It’s in hand,’ Andrews assured her.

  ‘Do you know what this woman does in Chiswick?’ Will demanded.

  ‘I know she has a shop. I can find out what kind it is.’

  ‘What about her husband, what does he do?’

  ‘I don’t think that’s been established yet, but I’m sure we’ll know more by tomorrow.’ Taking out his mobile, he showed them the text from Jackie Dennis containing the unidentified number. ‘Does it mean anything to either of you?’ he asked.

  Will looked at it and shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea. Why? Whose is it?’

  ‘That’s what we’re trying to find out. It’s where the message came from giving directions of how to get to the place near Glastonbury which the Osmonds apparently own. Do you happen to know anyone who lives down that way?’

  Again Emma shook her head. Right now she could barely even remember where Glastonbury was, or if she’d ever visited, though of course Lauren had been to a couple of the festivals.

  Will said, ‘So you think she went there before the accident to ... to what? Meet someone?’

  ‘It seems the most logical reason,’ Andrews replied. ‘Or perhaps she was giving someone a lift there.’

  ‘Like who?’

  ‘I’ve no idea, I’m simply putting forward possibilities.’

  ‘I don’t understand why it matters,’ Emma said, feeling as though the words were coming from a far distant place. She was too tired to do this, yet how could she not? ‘Whatever her reason was for going there, she wasn’t doing anything wrong, so why are you trying to make it sound as though she was?’

  Andrews was registering her pain and understanding her confusion. ‘I’m afraid it’s because we don’t know what she was doing that we have to ask all these questions,’ he explained gently. ‘But at least we know she hadn’t been drinking.’

  Will’s eyes widened. ‘How do you know that?’ he demanded.

  Colouring slightly, Andrews said, ‘It’s normal procedure to carry out a blood test on someone in Lauren’s position.’

  ‘And if she had been drinking, what then? Would it make the kid who hit her less culpable?’

  ‘No, but as it’s not an issue perhaps we should return to the point of this discussion, which is to try to establish the reason Lauren went down into Somerset that night ...’

  ‘Why?’ Will broke in belligerently. ‘Surely you can’t think she was up to no good. If you knew her you’d know it’s insane even to consider it.’

  Only too aware that parents almost never knew as much as they thought they did about their teenage offspring, Andrews said, ‘It’s very difficult to know what to think at the moment, but clearly there are some issues, queries, that need to be addressed.’

  Will’s whole body seemed to stiffen. ‘Are you trying to say she was having some sort of affair with this Osmond bloke?’ he growled. ‘Is that what you’re getting at here, because if you are ...’

  Unable to bear it, Emma said, ‘Will, just stop ...’

  ‘The hell I will,’ he cried, ‘because I for one won’t have my daughter slandered that way, and even if she was having an affair, it’s not a crime. She’s eighteen, for God’s sake, she can come and go as she pleases, so why are you ... Actually I know what you’re leading up to here. You’re trying to make out she’s to blame for what’s happened to her.’

  ‘Absolutely no one thinks she’s to blame for that,’ Andrews assured him. ‘We know exactly how the accident happened, and no one, not even the Lomax family, is trying to contest it.’

  ‘But they will ...’

  ‘I doubt it ...’

  ‘... it only happened two days ago, and they’ve already got one of the city’s top lawyers working for them, so how the hell do you know where this will go?’

  ‘Will, can we please just hear what Clive is trying to tell us,’ Emma said sharply.

  Flipping a hand to show his impatience, Will sat back with a tight expression and angry eyes as Andrews prepared to continue.

  ‘I’m sorry to say,’ he began, ‘that the mystery behind Lauren’s movements during the hours leading up to the accident is giving rise to suspicion. And the investigators would be failing in their duty if they didn’t try to find out what was going on, just in case it turns out to be something the defence can use to achieve a lesser sentence. Or in case Lauren was involved in some kind of illegal activity.’

  Feeling her head starting to spin as Will leapt to his feet, Emma tried to stay detached from his anger, but it wasn’t possible when in her own exhausted way she was as appalled and offended by the suggestion as he was.

  ‘I get what’s going on here,’ Will raged. ‘It’s taken me a while to catch up, but the Lomax boy’s family are putting on pressure, aren’t they? They’ll have contacts in the police force at the highest level ...’

  ‘I can assure you nothing of the sort is going on,’ Andrews interrupted.

  ‘But you’re all corrupt, the whole bloody lot of you. I bet I won’t have to go very deep to find out that your top chap is a Freemason buddy of Russell Lomax ...’

  ‘Will, this isn’t helping.’

  ‘So what are we supposed to do, just sit here and let them get that boy off the hook by staining our daughter’s name?’

  ‘Mr Scott, that really is not happening,’ Andrews told him firmly. ‘No one is trying to deny that Oliver Lomax was driving the car that hit Lauren ...’

  ‘Good, then let’s focus on him a bit more, shall we?’ Will snapped. ‘Let’s leave my girl, who’s probably brain-damaged thanks to him ...’

  ‘Don’t say that,’ Emma cried, burying her face in her hands.

  ‘... to carry on fighting for her life while we find out where he was before the accident, what he was up to. Did you test him for drugs? I bet you didn’t ...’

  ‘I wasn’t there when he was taken to the station,’ Andrews broke in, ‘but I’m sure the drugs test was carried out.’

  ‘But the charge was for drink-driving?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘W
hat difference does it make whether it was drink or drugs?’ Emma exclaimed. ‘He was still driving the car, and Lauren’s still where she is, so for God’s sake, can we stop wasting time and energy on petty detail and concentrate on getting her through this?’

  Seeming to lose it altogether, Will shouted, ‘And how highly do you rate her chances of survival, may I ask? Exactly what are you telling yourself in that pathetic little world of denial you live in? Without those machines she’d be dead, you do realise that, don’t you? She can’t breathe on her own, or eat, or even think ...’

  ‘Stop, stop, stop,’ Emma sobbed, covering her ears. ‘You’re her father, for God’s sake. What’s the matter with you? Do you want her to die? Is that what you’re saying?’

  ‘Of course I don’t want her to fucking die, but I don’t want her to be brain-damaged either ...’

  ‘Mr and Mrs Scott,’ an intensivist barked, coming in the door. ‘Whatever’s going on in here, you have to keep your voices down. Otherwise, please take it outside.’

  Shamed by the reprimand, Emma said, ‘I’m very sorry. We didn’t mean ... Is Lauren all right?’

  ‘She’s the same, but I’m afraid we really can’t have you causing this sort of disturbance.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Will said gruffly. ‘I’m sorry, it was my fault. I just can’t seem ... I ...’ His eyes went to Emma. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, and dropping his head in his hands he slumped down in a chair while Andrews offered a further apology to the intensivist, with an assurance there would be no further disruption.

  ‘Are you sure you want to stay here tonight?’ Emma asked Will when the intensivist had gone. ‘What I’m saying is, I don’t mind ...’

  ‘Of course I’ll stay,’ he interrupted. ‘You need to go home and get some proper rest. I’ll call if anything happens.’

  Emma glanced at Andrews, then back to Will. She was afraid of what she wanted to say, but knew she couldn’t leave until she had. ‘Please don’t tell her that it’s OK to let go,’ she whispered brokenly. ‘She’s fighting, Will, I know she is, and she needs to know we’re both with her, so please don’t let her think that you’re giving up.’