Don't Wake Up: A dark, terrifying new thriller with the most gripping first chapter you will ever read!

by Liz Lawler

  She was pulling at the collar around her neck, twisting her shoulders, thrashing her legs, desperately trying to get off the trolley, and she was spitting and shouting at the two men: Nathan Bell and Seb Morrisey. ‘Get away from me, you fuckers. I’ll kill you! You come near me, I’ll take your fucking head off.’

  Caroline silenced the beeping monitors to lessen the noise, and on her count of three she and the two men transferred Alex to the resus trolley. Alex suddenly swiped her hand out and dug her nails into Caroline’s wrist and Seb Morrisey had to unbend her fingers to release the grip on the consultant. ‘Easy does it, Doc. You’re in safe hands,’ he said kindly.

  Her teeth bared, her intention to sink them into any part of him she could bite was clear. It was only the head blocks and straps pinning her head to the trolley that saved Seb from injury.

  ‘Draw up some lorazepam, we need to get her calm.’ Caroline instructed the nearest nurse.

  Nathan Bell put a hand up to stop the nurse hurrying away. Beneath the trolley they’d just transferred Alex from he retrieved a black handbag. ‘We need to check what she’s already taken.’ His face was pale and his eyes filled with anguish. ‘She’s got diazepam and ketamine in her bag. Syringes and needles as well.’ He pressed the bag against his chest and his breathing came fast with his delayed reaction. ‘This is my fault. I knew she was taking something. I should have stopped her. I should have told you,’ he said to Caroline.

  The consultant quickly came to his side. ‘None of this is your fault, Nathan. None of it. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. Now I want you to leave here – let us help Alex.’

  The distraught doctor shook his head. ‘I need to help.’

  Caroline gripped his shoulder. ‘I need you to be strong, Nathan. I need someone I can trust out in the department looking after all the other patients. You need to be out there while I look after her in here.’

  Caroline knew there were enough other doctors to do what she’d just asked Nathan to do, but his presence was a distraction and Alex had to come first. Seb stepped in and took the bag out of Nathan’s grip and then, placing his arm lightly around Nathan’s shoulders, he led him away.

  Caroline took a deep breath and turned back to the remaining people: the trauma doctors, the obs and gynae doctor, the A & E registrar, the two nurses and Greg Turner. She thought the senior police officer looked nearly as shaken up as Nathan Bell, and was surprised. Her patient was still spitting and shouting obscenities; the pink dress she was wearing was rising above her thighs, showing her underwear. She needed to be cared for and examined thoroughly.

  She looked in the direction of the trauma team and other specialists she had called, all waiting with their backpacks on their shoulders full of emergency equipment, and smiled at them apologetically. They were not needed and could now go. To the nurse she’d just spoken to, she said, ‘Call security and have them come down. If she starts kicking off we’ll need more than just us to hold her down.’ And to the other A & E doctor and nurse: ‘We need full obs, ECG and bloods. Check the contents of her handbag and ascertain, if possible, how much she’s taken and of what. Ring path lab and ask them to be ready to do paracetamol and salicylate levels. We need to know exactly what she’s overdosed on.’

  To Greg Turner she said, ‘This could take a while; you might want to take a seat somewhere. I’ll keep you posted. And if you haven’t already, I’d be grateful if you could ring the family and let them know she’s here.’

  *

  It was several hours later when Caroline finally stepped into the relatives’ room and spoke to Greg Turner. He’d been waiting for an update for most of the night and she was grateful that he’d stayed because he’d been there when Alex’s parents and sister had arrived. Caroline briefly spoke to them and let them know Alex was stable, but the rest of it, the horrific crimes she was suspected of, she had left to Greg Turner to explain. The three of them had gone back to their homes with their worlds turned upside down.

  His eyes were closed and she saw they were bloodshot when he opened them. He rolled his neck and blinked a few times as he became more awake, and then he was quickly alert.

  ‘What’s the story?’

  Caroline sat down in the chair facing him. ‘She’s sleeping at the moment, but she’s now lucid. She’s aware of where she is and is just sleeping off the effects of what she’s taken.’

  ‘Any lasting damage?’

  Caroline shook her head. ‘No. I thought she might have taken other substances, but paracetamol levels are normal. She’s had a hefty dose of diazepam and taken ketamine too, which is why she’s sleeping now, and also accounts for her behaviour when they brought her in.’

  Caroline arched her neck tiredly. ‘When she’s more awake the psychiatrist will come and do an assessment.’

  Greg remembered seeing the ketamine in Patrick Ford’s surgery and wondered if she’d stolen it from there, but the consultant admitted the most obvious source: ‘I meant what I said earlier. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I was sure she was taking something else, apart from alcohol, and I should have checked stock levels ages ago. She’s been falling apart before my very eyes and I ignored it.’

  She closed her eyes and sighed despondently, before focusing on him again. ‘What’s going to happen now?’

  ‘That will depend on the psychiatric review. If she’s deemed unfit for questioning I won’t arrest her. While she’s here I’ll keep an officer stationed. What medical treatment does she need?’

  ‘Repeat bloods and observations. And wait for the psychiatric review.’ She sighed. ‘I just wish I’d been more observant and noticed her breakdown.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘I’d say it’s a little more than a breakdown. She’s suspected of killing two people – possibly a third, if Amy Abbott was also a victim.’

  The consultant briefly shut her eyes in despair. ‘Dear God. Has this all happened because of that actor?’

  He undid the top button of his shirt and loosed the slightly grubby tie. Then he said: ‘Which reminds me, can I use one of the computers? I googled your actor from last year and it seems that I’ll not be able to question him, because he’s dead.’

  Caroline was shocked. ‘How?’

  Greg shrugged. ‘That’s what I want to find out.’

  There was a light tap on the door and a nurse popped her head into the room. She smiled politely. ‘Sorry for disturbing you, but she’s asking for you, Caroline.’

  Caroline stood up and Greg Turner did the same. ‘Do you mind if I come in and listen? I’ll stay in the background so as not to alarm her.’

  Caroline nodded. She was glad the officer would be in the room. As a senior consultant she should be able to deal with any situation brought into the department; she had had dealt with many criminals, but she had never treated someone she knew who was also a suspected murderer. She had no past experience to draw on and no way to know how this would proceed.

  *

  Alex smiled tearfully and gratefully at the people surrounding her. They all looked shell-shocked and exhausted by their efforts to save her. This was the second time Caroline Cowan had cared for her, and she could only imagine how hard this had been for her. Her poor bruised face was haggard. Seb and Nathan were standing on either side of her bed, like bodyguards, looking equally shattered; Alex would for ever more be grateful to these two men in her life. They had searched for her and found her and now finally she could put this whole nightmare into the hands of the police and begin to heal. They would finally believe her.

  ‘Oh, Caroline, thank you for being here. I thought I was going to die.’

  Caroline gazed at her and smiled kindly. ‘You’re safe now, Alex, and you’re not going to die.’

  ‘Thank you, Seb, for finding me,’ Alex said to her friend through teary eyes. ‘And you, Nathan,’ she added, reaching for his hand. ‘Thank you all for looking for me.’

  Seb Morrisey kissed her on the forehead. ‘Just returning the favour, Doc. You’re my VI
P, remember.’

  Nathan didn’t comment; he simply squeezed her hand.

  Alex switched her attention back to Caroline. ‘I’m scared to ask, but how bad am I?’

  Caroline’s expression was light, and her voice calm. ‘So far so good. Blood pressure up a little, heart a little fast. Temperature a little low. Otherwise you’re in pretty good working order.’

  ‘And what about physically?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  Alex smiled bitterly. ‘So a mind fuck again.’ She raised an arm over her head and touched her scalp, and after a second said, ‘So they weren’t actually put in?’

  Caroline frowned. ‘What weren’t?’

  Alex’s voice raised a decibel. ‘Staples!’ She bit her lip before continuing. ‘Sorry, I don’t mean to shout. I thought my head was covered with them. I heard the click-clunk of the stapler. I felt it against my head.’

  Caroline slowly leaned over her patient’s head and carefully searched her scalp. ‘You’ve got a couple of scratches,’ she said. ‘But there are no staples in your head.’

  Alex sighed. ‘So all of it was playacting? So very clever.’ Her eyes widened as if remembering something. ‘But my bottom and thigh were injected! It must have been done with a dart gun or even a blowgun. I want them photographed. To be checked thoroughly. I obviously wasn’t anaesthetised for long and I don’t know exactly what I was given, but it wasn’t just a muscle relaxant as threatened, otherwise I would remember.’ She paused to take a shaky breath. ‘I assume the police are checking the theatres?’

  ‘The police are here,’ Caroline answered.

  ‘And Maggie Fielding? Have they got her yet?’

  Caroline stared at her, perplexed, her eyes cagey. ‘Why would they want Dr Fielding? Has something happened to her?’

  Alex stared at Caroline, looking right into her eyes, beseeching her to understand. She felt the wail begin somewhere in her chest, twisting its way past the tightness in her throat until it became a shrill. ‘Don’t this to me again! Maggie Fielding is the fuckhead who did this to me! She abducted me because that actor who attacked me last year was her boyfriend and he killed himself. She did all this to me to get back at me. And these other women – Amy Abbott, Lillian Armstrong, the drug error I made – she did it all. She killed them. You have to get the police to arrest her before it’s too fucking late and she gets away.’

  ‘Alex, you need to listen.’

  ‘There’s no time, Caroline! Maggie Fielding is a very dangerous woman. She’ll kill again!’

  ‘Shut up, Alex, just shut up.’ The softly spoken command held a warning.

  Alex switched her gaze to Seb and Nathan. ‘Seb! Nathan! You need to find her. You need—’

  ‘SHUT UP!’ The words ricocheted off the walls and the room silenced. Her eyes pinned Alex to the bed and Caroline took the last few steps towards her.

  ‘I want you to listen to me carefully, Alex. In your car the police found empty packets of diazepam. In your handbag we found diazepam and ketamine. You have taken an overdose and you came in here very confused. You have no other injuries. No staples in your scalp.’

  Alex raised her head in fury and Seb swiftly positioned himself closer. Alex stared at him, dismayed. Surely he didn’t think she was a danger? Her eye almost popping with anger, she swiftly denied the allegation. ‘I never took any overdose! How dare you suggest it? It’s what she gave me.’

  Caroline leaned forward, almost touching Alex, and for the first time her voice and eyes held real anger. ‘Are you trying to tell me that you haven’t been taking drugs and that you haven’t been hitting the bottle?’

  Alex shook her head fast and her eyes squeezed shut as she desperately yelled: ‘Diazepam! That’s all I’ve been taking. I haven’t touched alcohol for weeks.’

  Alex saw Nathan quickly lower his eyes. She saw Caroline witness his action and knew she had to make them understand. ‘I haven’t depended on the stuff, that’s what I’m trying to say.’

  Alex closed her eyes, trying to block out the accusations. She needed to calm down and breathe before this situation imploded. Otherwise she would be labelled an alcoholic with mental problems. They clearly didn’t accept what she said had happened to her, which meant Maggie had covered her tracks again. She had to get them to believe her before it was too late and Maggie escaped. Caroline stepped back from the trolley, giving Alex some space. Her voice was now calm.

  ‘ You need to listen to me, Alex.’

  Alex opened her eyes and lay back against the pillow, exhausted. Her gaze locked on Caroline.

  Caroline gave a sad smile. ‘When you were rushed in here late last night I had switchboard fast-bleep the trauma team in case it was needed. I also got them to bleep obs and gynae. Maggie Fielding couldn’t come, so one of her colleagues came instead. She couldn’t come because she was still tied up in theatre. She was in the middle of an operation, doing a section, delivering twins. Maggie Fielding did not do this to you, Alex. And you now need to admit that you need help.’

  Alex stared frantically at the people around her. ‘None of you believe me. You’re all going to let her get away with it. Maggie Fielding killed those women and you think it was me. She set this whole thing up. She’s taken revenge on me and anyone else that had anything to do with her boyfriend!’

  Caroline could no longer control herself and her voice shook with emotion. ‘And what about Fiona, Alex? Did she kill her too?’

  Chapter forty-nine

  Greg walked along the empty corridor towards the obstetric theatres. As he passed some of the wards he heard the sound of rattling china and guessed that patients were having their first cups of tea of the day.

  He had always quite liked hospitals and had never felt the dread of them that a lot of people experienced. He felt comforted at the thought of people being looked after.

  At the end of the corridor he turned right and walked up to the locked doors. He pressed the intercom and, after identifying himself, he was buzzed through. He needed to meet Dr Fielding and assess the situation for himself.

  Alex Taylor’s accusations, regardless of how insane they sounded, had to be followed up. Greg had heard similar rationalisations, mainly from men, who, when arrested said they were innocent and that someone else had done it, or blamed the voices they heard or the apparitions they saw. When he made DS, he was called to the home of a dead fourteen-year-old girl. Her body had been painted with her own blood and she was covered in parrot feathers. Her father was sitting in an armchair with the bald bird in his lap stroking its pale flesh, and his excuse for cutting his daughter’s throat was that his pet parrot had told him to.

  Alex Taylor had told everyone it was a man impersonating a doctor who abducted her, and then said it was the same man who was killing these women. Then last night, back in the A & E department after trying to get them to believe she had been taken to a theatre again and been subjected to muscle relaxants and anaesthetics and staples fired into her skull, she throws this other doctor’s name at them.

  It was too far-fetched to be true.

  He was directed by a nurse to an open door and found the doctor sitting in an office at a desk with a pen gripped between her teeth as she read notes. She had dark hair and was attractive, and she was obviously busy. She barely looked up when he introduced himself.

  She wore theatre clothing and a paper facemask hanging loosely around her neck. He watched her face closely as he revealed why he wished to speak to her. Her head quickly lifted and shock was clear in her features, especially when he mentioned that Dr Taylor believed her to be the real killer.

  She swallowed hard, and her face turned pale.

  ‘Why would she say that? I don’t even know her. Not personally, that is. Why has she said these things? This is unbelievable . . . I feel like I’m going to cry.’

  Clearly distressed, she reached for the glass of water beside her and took a shaky sip. The pen disappeared briefly between her lips again; Greg saw it was a habit, as h
e spied a second one chewed up on the desk.

  ‘Why would she say these things?’ she said again. ‘Why me? I don’t understand. Do I have to make some sort of statement? Prove that I didn’t do this?’

  Greg nodded. ‘Yes. We’ll ask you where you were at particular dates and times.’

  ‘My God. You’re serious. I actually have to do this? What has she said I’ve done?’

  He kept his eyes on her and his voice was calm. ‘She stated that you abducted and attempted to murder her, have murdered two other women, and that last night you attempted to murder her again.’

  Her eyes instantly glazed over and he could see her trying to swallow. Her voice was strained as she spoke. ‘Last night . . . last night I was here. I started my shift at 9 p.m., and as you can see I’m still here now. We’ve had a very busy night. Three caesareans, one of which involved delivering twins, and a woman with a post-partum haemorrhage. She died . . . It’s been an awful night . . . and now this.’

  ‘And you’ve been here all night?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said firmly. ‘I’ve been here. In this office. In the operating room. I’ve been up to intensive care to check on my patient. Do you want me to gather all the staff who have seen me tonight?’

  ‘No, not right now. If Dr Taylor continues with this allegation, we will then have to take statements.’

  Tears hung on her lashes and she quickly reached for a tissue.

  He gave her a second to compose herself, and then said, ‘Dr Cowan tells me you’re the doctor who examined Dr Taylor when she was brought into A & E a couple of months ago?’

  ‘That’s right,’ she said, taking the pen from her mouth and sounding and looking a bit calmer. ‘Tom Collins was in attendance as well. It was a . . . strange situation.’

  ‘And have you seen her since?’

  Her nod was firm, but her voice sounded husky again. ‘Here, of course, but also at my house. She turned up out of the blue, some weeks ago. How she got my address I don’t even know, but I suppose she felt she could come and see me. I’d left a recorded message of her results on her answer machine – the results of her examination – and I told her if she needed to talk she could call me. I never expected her to turn up at my house, though. And she didn’t really want to talk about the results anyway – she wanted me to help her catch the man who abducted her. I felt terribly sorry for her.’