She had searched Paul’s ashen face for the man she thought she knew. He had not made one comment about her relationship to Smith. His cool professional manner, except when he spoke of Nicky, was entirely predictable in view of what he’d learned tonight. Though, thank goodness, she thought, he hadn’t learned it all. And now he never would.
Then suddenly she remembered. The letter . . .
They would find it. It would be drenched in blood but forensics would decipher it and that would be the end of her. She closed her eyes and let her thoughts wander where they would. She had felt the distance between her and Paul widening as each minute passed. It seemed so ironical, she thought. Her worst secret should in theory be safe now. But even if the letter proved illegible it would still stand forever between them. Paul was the only person left in her life, apart from Nicky, who really mattered. She had watched his face until the moment the ambulance doors closed, waiting for some small gesture, anything that would acknowledge what was between them. Anything that might appease her need for him. She even wished now that he’d reprimanded her. ‘Oh, Paul . . . ’
‘Take it easy, Julia,’ John said. ‘You’re going to be okay.’
She nodded. John glanced at his watch, then smiled reassuringly. ‘These police escorts sure do straighten out the roads. We’re almost there. How’s the pain now?’
She shook her head and within seconds a mask appeared from somewhere above her head.
‘Mixture of oxygen and nitrous oxide,’ he explained. ‘Laughing gas to you.’
After a few breaths she felt herself floating off the stretcher. She wished the sickly gas were even stronger. Enough to blot out the horror of the night. Then something swam into her focus. Two foetuses in adjoining sacs of amniotic fluid, the slug-like cocoons curled around each other. Touching . . . touching . . . touching . . .
- 112 -
Julia kept her eyes fixed on the white porous tiles of the A & E cubicle ceiling, still trying to get away from the two foetuses. But it was no good. Even when she closed her eyes they were still there, entwined, linked, entangled . . .
After the paramedics had handed her over and all the usual tests and X-rays had been completed, they told her they were calling out an orthopaedic surgeon. A few minutes later, amongst the mêlée of doctors and nurses, she became aware of a new presence. Someone standing beside her.
‘Julia,’ a voice said softly. She opened her eyes.
‘Martin!’ A fresh deluge of tears gushed from her eyes. Martin, of all the orthopaedic doctors that could have been on call.
He placed his hand gently on her wrist and felt her pulse. ‘You know, you’ve been on my mind ever since you rang on Saturday. I had a feeling something was wrong. How do you feel?’
She met his gaze. ‘Seeing you here is making me feel one hell of a lot better.’ She’d expected to see a look of condemnation but he hadn’t even raised an eyebrow.
He pulled up a stool and sat beside her. ‘Any pain now?’
‘Nothing like it was. Just a dull ache.’
He frowned. ‘The morphine may have made the pain in your leg subside, Julia, but your eyes tell me there’s another pain. You can tell me about it and it won’t go any further than these four walls,’ he said quietly.
She bit her lip. It was tempting.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I understand. How long since you had anything to eat or drink?’
‘A sandwich at lunchtime. Cup of coffee.’
‘You lawyers. Anyway, that does mean you can go to theatre straight away.’
He took the notes from his registrar and slotted the X-rays into the illuminated screen on the wall.
‘The bullet struck just below the knee joint from a range of about four feet,’ he said, reading from the notes. ‘Missed the tibia, thank goodness.’
‘There’s slight loss of feeling and pins and needles,’ the registrar explained. ‘Entry wound the size of a shirt button, exit wound a 50p piece. Ragged edges. Considerable tissue bruising.’
‘There’s no bullet inside, Julia,’ Martin said, ‘but the fibula is broken and there are one or two fragments lying around. The exit wound’s a bit of a problem. In case there’s any infection we’ll only partially sew it up. On Friday morning we’ll take you back to theatre, clean it out and sew it up properly.’
‘Fine,’ she said, attempting to smile. At least the anaesthetic would blank everything out for a few hours and erase these endless floating images.
‘Will I be able to walk straight away?’ she asked.
Martin raised both hands. ‘What’s the hurry?’
‘I’ve a busy schedule, Martin.’
‘Julia, my dear, when you leave here you’ll be using crutches, so you’d better get someone to take over your cases for a while. The bone will knit within five or six weeks.’
She groaned at the thought of the slowness of it all. Martin gave her hand a squeeze. ‘See you in theatre,’ he said. ‘Oh, and by the way, I’ve told the police you’re in no state to answer any questions until at least tomorrow.’
WEDNESDAY
- 113 -
‘Ah, Paul,’ Bill Brownlow said, looking at Paul with slightly less of a smile than usual. ‘Please sit down.’
‘If you don’t mind, Sir, I’d rather stand.’
‘As you wish. I was going to talk to you at our morning meeting, but seeing you’re here now, perhaps you’d like to tell me exactly what happened yesterday. And why.’
Paul was amply prepared for this. Both for the abruptness and for the request for detail. Bill Brownlow did not mince his words. Last night, apart from looking after Nicky, going into the guest bedroom every ten minutes to make sure she was all right, he had known it was futile to attempt to sleep and instead had spent most of the night at his dining room table, writing down over and over again the sequence of events on the moorlands and analysing his motives.
The ACC listened without comment. He made a few notes but otherwise kept his eyes fixed on Paul’s face. It was a relief that not once did he appear even tempted to say I told you so.
After what seemed like about fifteen minutes of uninterrupted monologue, Paul paused. ‘That’s about it, Sir. I wanted to be the first to tell you. But since I’m no longer part of an armed response unit and have used a weapon without the necessary authorization of my force, entirely my own decision. I also wanted to pre-empt any decision on your part ─ ’ He stopped and took a deep breath.
The ACC raised his eyebrows. ‘Go on, Paul,’ he said.
‘Sir, I would like you to suspend me from duty.’
Bill Brownlow opened his mouth to speak, but Paul carried on.
‘I also need some time to sort out my own affairs. Get away to clear my head. Visit my daughter in Australia whom I haven’t seen for years. Let things simmer down here as far as the unauthorised use of the gun is concerned. And . . .’ He hesitated, wondering just how far Brownlow’s sympathies would stretch, then decided that if he was telling the truth, then better he tell the whole truth. ‘And also let things simmer down between myself and Julia Grant. I just want to back out for a while. I need to get away.’
Still holding Paul’s gaze, Bill Brownlow rubbed his chin. ‘Thank you for being so forthright. I’d been wondering how to get around suspending you. It’s something I really didn’t want to have to do, but as we all know, in cases of this nature it is normal practice until the investigation is complete. However, now that I’m in possession of all the facts, although in due course I’ll have to study the reports from firearms, forensics and various other interested parties, I’m sure we’ll be able to sort it all out. Firearms would undoubtedly have been the ones to shoot Smith had it not been for your swift action. But I can’t promise you’ll be exonerated. However I hope your suspension will only be to . . . maintain appearances, and that’s strictly between you and me.’
‘Thank you, Sir.’
Paul knew that he should at this moment be feeling a great sense of relief, but just to have Brown
low’s understanding was not enough to lift his burden of guilt.
‘There’s just one more thing, Sir.’
‘Yes, Paul. I thought there might be.’
‘Jake Burrows. I would like to think that he will be completely absolved for his part in my actions. It was despicable of me to pull rank the way I did. I have the utmost respect for the man, I trained him, dammit, and I know just what a fine policeman he is. He would never have handed over that MP5 if I hadn’t deliberately exaggerated my own personal danger because of Smith’s well-known hatred of my guts.’
The ACC nodded. ‘I know that, Paul. Don’t worry. By the time you return from Australia I can only hope that everything will be sorted out.’
- 114 -
Paul tiptoed into Julia’s room. He couldn’t believe how different she looked. She was propped up on a mound of pillows, with her leg encased in an enormous bandage. Her hair, matted with blood last time he’d seen her, hung shiny and loose around her shoulders. The nursing staff were spot-on in this hospital, he thought.
‘Oh, hello Paul.’ Her eyes were half-open. She blinked them twice. ‘Where’s Nicky?’
‘She’s at school. She’s fine. I gave Wendy the night off, so Nicky spent the night with me. I’ll bring her in later this afternoon. When all these drips are down.’
Julia’s face seemed to brighten up, but only for a moment.
‘You look much better,’ he said. She’d obviously been smartened up by the nurses after he’d rung to see if he could visit her, but there was something empty and lost about the expression in her eyes.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It’s an enormous relief that Nicky’s safe. Though there’s not much else to feel better about.’
He pulled up a bright orange easy-chair and sat down beside the bed. ‘The doctor tells me you’ve been very lucky.’
‘Lucky? I expect you mean my leg might have been blown right off.’
‘You’ve also been very brave. But it needn’t have happened, Julia.’
She closed her eyes tightly, then opened them and looked up at him like a child about to be chastised. ‘You know I could be struck off, don’t you? I’ll have to stand trial. Probably end up in Styal Prison, not two miles from Hillside House.’
‘What the hell are you talking about?’
‘Possession of an unlicensed firearm ─ Exhibit A. And that dagger in your hat, Mrs Grant ─ Exhibit B.’
‘Calm down, Julia. You don’t know what you’re saying. The morphine has made you delirious.’
‘Can’t allow people to take the law into their own hands, the judge will say in his summing up.’
‘Julia, you’re hysterical.’
She pushed herself up on her elbows. ‘I killed him, Paul.’
‘For God’s sake shut up and lie down and listen to me.’
Supporting her head, he eased her down onto the pillows. ‘You did not kill Sam Smith. For God’s sake, your gun wasn’t even loaded.’
She gazed at the window, as though talking to herself. ‘If he hadn’t seen my gun he wouldn’t have shot me. And firearms wouldn’t have shot him.’ She looked down at her hands, opening them wide as if the answers she was seeking were written on her palms. ‘But I’d already killed him. Long before that.’
‘I’m not with you,’ Paul said.
He held his breath as she told him what she’d done to Smith last Wednesday night, and what Martin Bedlow’s prognosis had been.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘You’d have asked questions. It was too dangerous.’
‘So. All along it wasn’t the whole police force you didn’t trust. It was only me.’
‘No, Paul, it wasn’t like that. I thought the best way of protecting my child was through my own manipulation of Smith. If I’d told you what was happening he might have harmed Nicky.’
‘But he didn’t even have Nicky then.’
‘No. But I couldn’t take any chances, could I? Besides, anyone who could walk into the Magistrates’ Court when the entire GM police force was after him, and get away with it, was clearly capable of doing . . . anything.’
Paul’s mouth dropped open. ‘Oh my God.’
And as the tale of persecution came pouring out, Paul began to understand the full extent of Julia’s fear. And of his own transgression. Because of his involvement with Julia . . .
‘But, you know,’ she said. ‘I’m sure that in the beginning he never intended to abduct Nicky. Just as he never intended to kill me. He was certain I’d pay him. He only took Nicky when he was so ill that he knew if he didn’t get the cash immediately in order to get out of the country quickly and see a doctor, he would die. It was a last act of self-preservation . . .’
Paul bent down until his eyes were level with Julia’s. ‘And tell me, Julia, what the hell is it that makes you think he was so sure you’d give him the money?’
She turned her head away and dug her teeth into her bottom lip. ‘I don’t know, Paul. Don’t ask me. I don’t know.’
‘All right,’ he conceded, quite certain that she must have known, and curious about the sudden look of fear that crossed her eyes. ‘Who else have you told about that hatpin?’ he said.
‘No one. Why?’
‘I want you to say nothing to the police. He could have got that injury from anyone.’
‘But I’ve told you.’
‘Listen carefully. Cause of death was not a puncture wound in the stomach. It was a gunshot wound to the heart delivered in order to stop him shooting you again.’ He stood up and marched across the room, then swung round to face her.
‘By me.’
‘You? Not firearms? But ─ ’
‘I told you. He had a gun in his hand. Pointed at you. I had to stop him shooting you again.’
She swung her head from side to side. ‘Paul . . . It was me. I killed him. Don’t you see? He could easily have shot me in the heart. He was so close it was impossible to miss. But he shot me in the leg. And he died thinking it was me who had shot him . . . me that had killed him.’ With her face twisted in pain she screwed her eyes up and turned her head away.
‘Christ, if only you’d told me you suspected he was your brother. You could have trusted me. Couldn’t you?’ He walked back to his chair. ‘We could have taken a blood sample from you and done a DNA test and proved months ago whether he was or wasn’t. And I’ll be quite honest with you. I still don’t think he was.’
Julia rolled her eyes at him. ‘Can you imagine if it had all come out? Defence lawyer twin sister of serial killer!’
‘Julia, Julia. Part of loving is trusting people. You didn’t trust me. I wish I could understand you. But I know very little about you really. About your past. You’ve been bottling so much up. Wouldn’t it help if you talked about it now?’
He watched her drag her hand across her brow and purse her lips. He felt a great tide of longing mixed up with a sinking feeling of regret. Perhaps she had never been able to trust anybody. Perhaps this was a new concept for her and it was up to him to help her assimilate it.
‘Try,’ he said softly. ‘It always helps to talk.’
She sighed. ‘Well, I don’t suppose it’ll make any difference now.’
And so she told him, sometimes in unstoppable bursts of frenzy, sometimes with slow deliberation, everything she said her adoptive mother had told her on Sunday.
Paul felt anger rise in his chest as he listened to her story. She seemed to be tying herself up in knots, as though there was part of the story she was holding back.
‘So why do you still look so guilty, Julia? I get the feeling you’ve left something out. Have you told me everything?’
For a few moments she said nothing. Then she slid down into the pillows. ‘With someone to love him he might have been a different person,’ she said. ‘But I don’t want to discuss it any more. What about you? What’s been happening? I’ve been doing all the talking.’
Paul hesitated. He wished she would tell him now, get it off her che
st, but he didn’t want to put her under any further strain. ‘Well, you’ll have to know some time, I suppose. I’ve been suspended. Pending investigations.’
‘What? But they can’t do that to you.’
He shrugged. He had no intention of divulging his confidential conversation with Bill Brownlow. It would upset her even more. He would tell her only what she needed to know. ‘The media is full of the story today. And I don’t know how they’ve sniffed it out, but there are some suggestions of my link with you. It was even on the news last night. Did I act in the best interests of justice? Why couldn’t I just have wounded him?’
He thumped his fist on his knee. ‘The bullet had to be either in the head or the heart, Goddamit - in order to stop him pulling the trigger a second time and killing you. That’s why.’
‘You put your job in jeopardy in order to save my life,’ she said softly. ‘Your career is everything to you, Paul. It’s unthinkable that you might lose your job. Perhaps they’re only acting under pressure from the media.’
Just then a nurse carrying a tray covered with a white cloth popped her head around the door. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to leave now, Mr Moxon.’ She looked at them both, smiled apologetically. ‘I’ll be back in a moment.’
Paul dutifully stood up. He looked down at Julia. She had told him more than he’d expected to hear, but she was definitely holding something back. Of that he was sure. Each time she seemed to be opening up she would withdraw into herself or completely change the subject.
‘I’ll drop Nicky in later,’ he said. ‘Did you know Wendy got married yesterday? That’s why she was late.’
‘She told me. I didn’t take it in at the time. Poor Wendy. What a wedding day! And what a birthday. You were kind to give her the night off.’
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