‘I agree Dr Salmon,’ he said, addressing the A&E doctor. ‘Let’s get a CT scan done stat and we’ll go from there.’
With another nod at her he moved to leave, but found Sergeant West blocking his way.
Quickly, West identified himself. ‘It was my team who found Ms Johnson. Can you tell me what’s happening?’
The man looked at West severely. ‘Dr Salmon tells me the lady was Tasered.’
West looked horrified. ‘Not by the gardai, I assure you Dr...Mr...’
‘Mr Noonan,’ he said, the severe look softening a fraction. Then seeing something in West’s face, his asked more kindly, ‘Ms Johnson is a friend?’ At West’s nod he continued, ‘We are going to take her for a CT scan to see the extent of the damage. If, as we think is the case from our examination so far, there is a cerebral bleed, we may proceed to do what we refer to as Burr holes, these are small holes drilled in the skull to release pressure. We may then keep her in the coma she is in, to allow the brain to recover.’
West felt himself go pale. ‘There’s a lot of ‘if’s and ‘may’s there Mr Noonan.’
Mr Noonan smiled briefly. ‘They may treat me like God,’ he said, ‘but I’m afraid my skills, though exceptionally good, are not godlike.’ He drew West out of the way as staff readied Kelly’s trolley and moved her slowly from the A&E department. ‘You can follow if you like,’ the neurosurgeon said, his mind already elsewhere, ‘there’s a waiting room. You can get a cup of appalling coffee, if you need sustenance.’ He rejoined the medical team surrounding Kelly’s trolley as it made its slow progress up two floors to where the CT scanner was situated.
West followed, found the waiting room and spent two pounds on a cup of coffee, smiling at the first taste. He hoped Noonan was as skilled a neurosurgeon as he was a judge of coffee, it was truly appalling. He sipped it anyway, he’d need the caffeine fix. He had a feeling it was going to be a long night.
He’d no worries about what was happening back at the station. Andrews was as dependable as they came. And even Morrison, when he knew the score, would pull out all stops to make sure things went as they should. They’d give him all the time he needed here.
Draining the paper cup he sat and held it, folded it in half, in quarters, then folded it again. There was a bin alongside the vending machine, he took aim and fired the wadded cup. Bull’s-eye.
Then there was nothing else to do. No magazines. No papers. Nobody else waiting to watch, weigh up, or exchange the time of day with. Just four walls, several very uncomfortable seats and thoughts he didn’t want to think.
It couldn’t end like this. Not after all she had been through. They hadn’t even had a chance to get together, not really. Never had that walk along the pier, never held hands, never kissed, never made love. All the nevers.
‘I should have kept in touch with her after Cork,’ he said aloud. He sat, linked his hands on his head and dropped his head back so he was looking at the ceiling. Thoughts he didn’t bother trying to untangle, jumbled about, butterfly flitting from one to the other, the only common denominator being Kelly. Times they’d met. Things she’d said. Her face. Her body. A look. A smile. Too few. Too many.
And then, after he didn’t know how long, the door opened and he saw the neurosurgeon in the doorway, dressed now in a scrub suit he wore with the same air of authority as his expensive suit. He turned back as somebody outside called him and West heard him answer abruptly, ‘No, tell them I’ll be there in a moment. They don’t need me here anymore.’
West’s hands dropped to his lap. Had he not been sitting, he would have dropped to the floor, all the strings of his meaningless existence cut. How would he stand? How could he stand and carry on? She was dead. He’d met death before. In Glasnevin. A colleague, a mother, her children. Had seen it all, he’d thought. Had felt the pain, the loss. Up close and personal. He knew nothing. Hadn’t had a clue. Hadn’t known about the hole it made, the huge sense of loss, a deep relentless void, a bottomless pit of sorrow.
Andrews appeared in the doorway beside the neurosurgeon who was still in conversation with someone out of West’s view. With an, ‘excuse me’ Andrews moved by him and catching sight of West, the look of misery on his face, he went quickly to his side, grabbed a chair and sat opposite him.
‘Mike,’ he said, reaching a hand out to take the other man’s arm. ‘Don’t tell me...’
West couldn’t say a word, couldn’t seem to remember how. He met Andrews’ eyes and knew he didn’t have to.
‘She’s dead?’ Andrews whispered in disbelief. ‘Oh Mike, I don’t know what to say.’
There was nothing to say. In death there was no hope. Mike West knew that only too well.
41
John Noonan had seen Andrews enter the room so when he finished his conversation and turned he assumed that West had been brought bad news. He’d seen the look too often not to recognise it, that awful look of loss, of desolation tinged with disbelief. For a change it was someone else giving bad news.
He checked his watch. There was never enough time, he needed to get on.
He approached the two men.
When he saw him, West stood unsteadily, his face pale. ‘She didn’t make it. I heard,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you did your best, thank you.’
The neurosurgeon looked confused. ‘Who didn’t make it?
Now West and Andrews looked confused.
‘Kelly Johnson.’ West said. ‘I heard you tell someone you wouldn’t be needed anymore.’
Mr Noonan shook his head and sighed. ‘Misinformation and miscommunication. The bane of my life. Let me be very clear. I won’t be needed, Sergeant West, because the CT scan was clear; there was no indication whatsoever of any damage. No damage equals no surgery required.’ He spread his hands and smiled, ‘No surgery required, equals no surgeon required. I’ve transferred Mrs Johnson’s care to the medical team.’
West grabbed his arm. ‘She’s not dead?’
‘She’s most definitely not dead,’ Mr Noonan said, patting the hand that had his arm in a grasp that would leave bruises for a week.
West turned to Andrews and grabbed him in a bear hug, ‘She’s not dead.’
Mr Noonan smiled again. ‘I gather this lady is more than just a person of interest in your investigation.’
‘You could say that’ West said, unable to stop grinning. ‘So what happens now?
‘She’ll be sent down to a ward and kept under observation. My colleague, a Dr Brian Midford, will be in charge of her care. Rest assured, he’s top of his field.’ He looked at both men and then, with a shrug, said, ‘Brian won’t mind my anticipating his diagnosis, but it is my opinion that Ms Johnson is suffering from a serious concussion that was exacerbated by the Taser blast and the morphine overdose. I’d estimate she’ll come around in the next couple of hours and be back to her old self within a day or so.’
As it turned out, Mr Noonan was out by the couple of hours. By the time Kelly had been transferred into a bed, in the private room West had insisted on, she had opened her eyes and asked in a very faint voice, ‘Where am I?’
The nurse who was adjusting the monitors and intravenous infusion heard and came to her side. ‘Hello there,’ she said gently. ‘Everything is ok. You’re in Vincent’s. You’re quite safe.’
‘What happened?’
The nurse made a final adjustment to a monitor and smiled down at Kelly’s anxious face. ‘Well now, if you hang on there a minute, there are a few people who will be able to fill you in. A little anyway.’
She went away and Kelly closed her eyes. When she opened them again she guessed she’d fallen asleep because sitting in a chair beside the bed, his eyes closed, sat Mike West. He needed a shave, his tie was undone but Kelly thought she’d never seen a better sight.
‘Hello,’ she tried, the sound frail and weedy. She tried again, ‘Hello.’
Immediately his eyes opened. ‘Kelly.’
‘How long have I been here?’ she asked.
West moved closer, reached for her free hand and held it, ‘About six hours now. How do you feel?’
Kelly thought a moment. She wasn’t sure. ‘I ache a bit,’ she admitted finally, ‘my head.’ She looked down at the arm with the intravenous infusion. ‘And this.’
‘You’re going to be fine,’ West reassured her. ‘There’s no damage. The doctors have done a clatter of tests. Everything is ok.’ He hesitated, wondering how much to tell her, how much she remembered. ‘Do you remember what happened?’ he asked finally.
She frowned. ‘Heather drugged me. And locked me under the stairs. And then, there was pain. Like I’d been stung. But...’ she shook her head. ‘I don’t remember any more.’ Then she did remember something and she turned her hand in West’s grabbing his. ‘Heather is protecting Viveka Larsson. I don’t think she wanted to hurt me, she was just afraid I’d tell you about what Viveka had said.’
‘Don’t think about that now,’ he said, deciding that now wasn’t the time to tell her the truth. Kelly already had experience of people pretending to be what they weren’t. It was time enough to tell her it had happened yet again. ‘You need to get some more sleep, ok? I’m going to head home, get some sleep myself. I’ll be back in the morning. Ok?’
‘Ok,’ she said, her eyes closing.
When she opened them again it was to see two nurses disconnecting the monitors that had been beep-beeping a lullaby. ‘Hello,’ she said and they stopped and came over to her. ‘Hi there,’ the taller of the two said with a smile. ‘How are you this morning?’
Actually to her surprise, she felt fine. Her head was still a little sore, her arm ached. But otherwise she felt good. ‘I don’t know what you’re pumping in to me,’ she told the two nurses, ‘but it’s working. I feel good.’
‘Would you like to try some breakfast?’ One of the nurses asked as the other wheeled the monitors from the room. ‘The doctor will be around in about an hour. If you’re eating and drinking well, they’ll probably take the drip down.’
Even without the added incentive, Kelly would have agreed to breakfast. She was starving and when it did arrive, looking decidedly lacklustre, she tucked in as though it were Michelin star quality and was draining the teapot when Dr Midford came in surrounded by a bevy of younger doctors.
‘How are you feeling?’ he asked, opening the file he held before casting a knowing eye over her. ‘Head still ache?’
Kelly smiled, ‘Not so bad now.’
He took a slim torch from his pocket and looked into her eyes. ‘Fine,’ he said, ‘everything looks ok. Your bloods have come back. No problems there. The Narcan infusion reversed any lingering effects from the Morphine you were injected with. And the ECG showed there were no side effects from the Taser blast.’
‘What?’ Kelly said, looking confused. ‘I thought I had been drugged and banged my head. A Taser blast?’ Suddenly, she remembered the terrible stinging sensation and closed her eyes. ‘Yes, she threatened me with it. I remember now. And the terrible sting when it hit.’ Her eyes opened, shining with tears she refused to let run. ‘Where did the morphine come in to it?’
Dr Midford looked suddenly embarrassed. ‘I was told you had been informed of the circumstances. My apologies, Ms Johnson. It is a little complicated, I’m afraid.’ He drew a sigh of relief, when a knock on the door was followed by the entrance of Sergeant West whom he’d met the night before. ‘Come in Sergeant,’ he said, ‘I think your arrival is timely. Ms Johnson has questions I feel it best to leave to you to answer.’ Looking back at Kelly he said, ‘I’ll have the intravenous infusion removed this morning. See how you feel but as far as I’m concerned you are free to go this afternoon.’ With a smile, and a nod to West, he made his exit, his satellites spinning around him.
West closed the door with one hand. His other hand, hidden behind his back, was brought forward and Kelly smiled at the huge bouquet of red tulips, each trimmed with a frill of yellow, the petals flopping open to show a matching yellow centre.
‘Tulips,’ she exclaimed in pleasure, taking the flowers, holding them to her face to hide emotions she knew were too fully on display. ‘They’re so beautiful,’ she whispered, ‘where on earth did you get tulips at this time of the year?’
West took the chair he had sat in some hours earlier. ‘Anything is possible when you want it badly enough,’ he said, hoping she realised he wasn’t speaking only about the flowers and then deciding it possibly wasn’t the right moment, he said, ‘You look much better. And you’re eating. Always a good sign.’
‘I feel much better,’ Kelly said, putting the tulips down on the table in front of her. She looked at West, ‘You need to tell me the truth now. What happened to me? The doctor said something about morphine. I know I was drugged, and she used that Taser on me.’ Reaching to her head she felt the small stitches there and sighed. ‘And I banged my head.’ She looked at him suspiciously. ‘Or did someone knock me out?’
West laughed. He felt relaxed for the first time in days, sitting here in a hospital room just being with Kelly. ‘No that’s one thing that didn’t happen to you.’
‘Well, that’s a relief.’ she said, leaning heavily on sarcasm. ‘Now tell me what did happen to me.’
And so he did, leaving nothing out, and as he did, Kelly’s eyes got rounder, her face paler. ‘And that’s the whole story,’ he finished.
She said nothing for a few minutes, just lay there trying to take it all in. She must have some questions but for the life of her she couldn’t think of one.
The door opened startling them both, a young nervous looking doctor who’d come, he said, to remove the intravenous line. If he was nervous to start he was more so with two sets of keen eyes watching every move. And then it was out, and Kelly, expecting it to be a painful procedure, was pleasantly surprised to have felt none and said so to the young doctor, who breathed a sigh of relief. ‘I’ve never done it before,’ he said ingenuously and took himself off, leaving Kelly and West smiling in his wake.
They sat in silence for a moment.
‘I’m sorry I shouted at you,’ Kelly said quietly, ‘I realised later, you’d been trying to protect me.’
West reached for her hand, held it tight. ‘If I hadn’t told you, you’d never have gone there. It’s all my fault. A few minutes later and you would have died, Kelly.’
She smiled. ‘I was drugged, Tasered, had a head injury and was given an overdose of morphine. I reckon I’m virtually indestructible.’ Her smile faded quickly and once more her eyes filled, ‘Heather Goodbody,’ she said with a tinge of bitterness. ‘I really do have a great knack for judging people, don’t I? She tried to kill me. Killed Gerard Roberts. Terrified so many people. And all of it done for Viveka?’
West ran a hand through his hair, tiredly, it had been a long week. ‘She knew Viveka was dying, Kelly,’ he said slowly, remembering the frail woman he had left behind in the apartment. ‘And got it into her head that Offer was to be her legacy. Or, maybe Viveka led her to believe it was.’
‘And was it?’
He smiled ruefully. ‘Not really. Viveka led everyone to believe she ran a similar set-up in Finland but, in fact, Tarjous was a brothel. A well run one, by all accounts, but there had been a problem and one of the young women was badly injured. Viveka was trying to make restitution before she died.’
Kelly laughed uncertainly. ‘A brothel? Does Heather know?’
West shook his head. ‘We’re interviewing her in about,’ he checked his watch, ‘three hours. She’ll find out then probably.’
‘And the pedestal she built for Viveka will come crashing down, won’t it?’ Kelly didn’t bother trying to hide her satisfaction.
‘I don’t know,’ West replied honestly. ‘It may go higher. A sinner repenting and all that. It could elevate Viveka to sainthood in Heather’s eyes. What will devastate her, is that Offer will come crashing down. It won’t be able to survive this. Heather will be charged with murder, attempted murder, kidnapping, assault, theft, and sev
eral other charges arising from all the little events she orchestrated over the last few months. She won’t see daylight for a long time.’
The silence was broken by one of the staff coming to remove her breakfast tray. ‘Would you like me to put your flowers in water?’
Kelly smiled and shook her head. ‘No, thanks, I’ll be going home soon, I’d like to take them with me.’
When they were alone again, Kelly pulled her hand away. ‘I’m indestructible but also very grubby. I need to find my clothes, have a shower, and get dressed.’
There were some things West hadn’t the heart to tell her. ‘I think they had to cut your clothes away to put the intravenous line in and attach the monitors.’ He grabbed her hand back, held it tightly when she tried to pull away. ‘I have your keys, I’m going to go and fetch you some fresh clothes. And before you start arguing, I think I’m capable of finding suitable garments for a woman to wear.
‘What?’ he asked, when she muttered something under her breath.
‘I said I have no doubt. But that doesn’t mean I like the thought of you rummaging in my knicker drawer.’
‘If I promise not to rummage?’ he said smiling, watching a smile grow on her face. ‘Have a long shower; I’ll be back as quickly as I can. And then you have a choice.’
‘A choice about what?’ she said, suspecting she wasn’t going to like what she heard next.
West held her hand in both of his, and then looked her straight in the eye. ‘Think about it until I come back. Either I stay in your house, in your spare room, of course. Or you come home with me, stay in a spare room in my house.’ He stood, bent down and kissed her on the forehead. ‘The choice is yours. I can drop you in either place, and then I must go back to the station.’
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