‘The doctors found no evidence of rape. You were badly beaten, and bitten on your shoulders, arms and breasts, but there was no evidence to suggest you were raped.’
‘Thank God... oh, thank God.’ It was such a relief to hear that. My cheeks felt wet and I realised I was crying.
Lynn patted my hand. ‘Carol, can you think of anyone who would do this to you?’
‘No,’ I whispered. It was all too much to take in. ‘Why would anyone do this to anyone? Oh, my head... sorry...’ My head felt as though it was going to explode.
‘Ok. You’ve done very well. Rest now. We’ll speak again tomorrow. You try to get some sleep. I’ll ask the nurse to come in.’
They left then and I lay back, exhausted, my headache becoming unbearable. Why I asked myself, Why would anyone do this to me? Wanda came in then, and fussed around, adjusting my pillows, tucking the sheets around me and generally making me more comfortable. I sank gratefully into the pillows.
‘Wanda, I was attacked. I didn’t know.’
‘I know you were, honey. We thought it best to let the police tell you. But we’re taking good care of you now. Time to sleep. The pills should take effect soon.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
His flight home wasn’t scheduled for another week, so although he was bereft now that Carol was gone, he decided to act like any other tourist and see a bit of the island before going back home. That day, he’d driven to the very north of the island, near North Point, to see the Animal Flower Cave. The brochure described it as the only accessible sea cave on the island and explained that its name derives from the sea anemones found in the pools of the cave.
On the drive up there, he’d taken several wrong turnings, signposts being few and far between in the interior of Barbados, and one sugar cane field looking very much like another. Once he finally found the place, he was well impressed with the spectacular views of the Atlantic, seen through openings in the rock. The openings, in turn, were stunningly reflected in the pools inside the caves, some of which were deep enough to swim in. He’d had a bite to eat at the open-air buffet there. His favourite Bajan dish was on the menu - jerk chicken, which he’d had with macaroni cheese and ochra. Tasty.
Finally back in his hotel room, after again getting lost several times on the return journey, he opened his laptop and decided to look at the latest news back home in the UK. Scrolling through the headlines, an article caught his eye. What? He sat up straight and stared at the screen in astonishment. He re-read the headline, from the ‘Evening Chronicle’, the local rag in Newcastle.
Local businesswoman attacked and left for dead in Barbados.
An unnamed North East businesswoman, who we understand is from the Newcastle area, has been viciously attacked in her holiday home in Barbados. The Barbados police are questioning a local man but no charges have yet been brought in connection with the incident. The victim was taken to hospital in Bridgetown where she is understood to be in a critical condition.
He was stunned, his mind racing in confusion. If she’s alive, they’ll be looking for me; she must have given them my name. Why are they questioning a local man? He needed to find out what was going on. He’d stopped monitoring Carol’s computer once he believed her to be dead, but now he logged on and checked it out, and her mobile... there was no activity, nothing.
He decided to check Fiona’s computer, and eventually found what he was looking for. An email, dated three days ago, from Fiona to her mother in the UK, which he read avidly.
‘Just wanted to give you an update on Carol’s condition. It’s awful to see her looking so damaged and fragile. She’s still unconscious and the doctors have told us they’ve put her in an induced medical coma to allow her brain time to heal. Apparently, there is some swelling of the brain, but thankfully they don’t think there’s any bleeding. They’ll keep her in the coma until the swelling has reduced. Poor Julia, all she does is cry and we’re doing our best to comfort her. It’s a terrible time and we’re all praying Carol pulls through.’
He jumped up, pacing the hotel room, running his hands through his hair. The frustration and rage he felt, after their last encounter, was still with him. A vision came to him of her lying on the bed, blood welling from the gaping hole in her head, her breasts littered with livid bite marks. The memory brought a stirring in his loins. He had been so sure she was dead; he was having difficulty getting his head around the fact that she was still alive.
His inner voice cautioned him to forget Carol Barrington. Why not just disappear? Get away while you can, it said to him. Before she wakes up. He silenced the voice. He knew he’d never be able to just walk away and forget about her. She was all he’d thought about, dreamed and fantasised about, for nearly two years. She’d been his full time focus for so long, and now that he knew she was still alive, he was incapable of leaving her behind. She was his.
Sitting back at his computer, he logged on to the internet and began to research the Barbados press. There was no mention anywhere of the attack, and he realised there must be a local press embargo on the story. Not good for tourism he supposed. Next, he would work on hacking into the Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Bridgetown, to see what he could find out about their patient.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I woke the next morning with the sun shining through brightly patterned curtains. For a moment I felt happy, before remembering where I was, and why. I could hear a rattling noise and Wanda came bustling into the room, pushing a small trolley.
She was her usual chirpy self. ‘Good Morning, Carol. How are you feeling this morning?’
‘I’m feeling a lot better today,’ I said, sitting up. ‘I’ve slept well. I don’t know what was in those pills you gave me, but they really knocked me out.’ I yawned.
She set about taking my blood pressure and temperature, before examining the wound on my head. ‘You’re doing well. Dr Gibson is pleased with you. Your head is healing nicely. I can remove the dressing now.’ She gently touched the left side of my face, then began to work on the dressing.
‘I see from your notes that you’re a widow, honey? You are far too young to be widowed, girl. What happened?’ she looked at me with curiosity.
‘He died... in a climbing accident; a year ago...’
‘Oh, that’s awful, honey. Such a shame. What was he like?’ she was busy putting all her paraphernalia back on the trolley.
I thought for a moment. ‘He was thoughtful, kind. Funny too – we used to laugh a lot together. It was a second marriage for both of us and we both felt we’d found our soul-mate at last... I adored him...’ My eyes filled, tears threatening to spill over. ‘Oh, I wish he was here with me now,’ my voice broke.
‘There there, honey. I didn’t mean to upset you. There aint no justice in this life. You lose your poor husband, and now this happens to you.’ Wanda sounded indignant. ‘It’s just not fair.’
She peered closely at my head. ‘Anyway, I’m pleased to tell you, your head wound is looking good. No infection at all. Should heal nicely.’ She patted my shoulder again. ‘Now, are you ok? Those police officers are here again. Do you feel like seeing them?’
I nodded, and with that, she was gone, the creaking and rattling of the trolley becoming fainter as she went down the corridor.
Before long, Lynn came through the door, carrying a black leather briefcase, which she plonked on the floor as she took the chair by the bed. She seemed to be on her own this time.
‘Hi, how are you feeling today?’ she asked, straightening her skirt. ‘You look a lot brighter than you did yesterday.’
‘I’ve been trying to process what you told me. I know what’s happened to me; of course I do. Yet somehow it just doesn’t feel real. I think because I can’t remember it, it feels almost like it happened to someone else, and I’m just an on-looker. Does that make sense?’
Lynn looked thoughtful. ‘Yes, I suppose it does. No doubt it’ll seem real enough when your memory starts to
return.’ She took a notebook out of her pocket, and crossed one slim leg over the other. ‘Now, before I tell you how the investigation’s going, can you give me some background on yourself. Your work, for example. What do you do for a living?’
I told her briefly about the Management Consultancy I ran jointly with Rupert, a former colleague. ‘We also run an investment group where we introduce wealthy business people to entrepreneurs looking for investment in their businesses. Oh, and also I have a property portfolio that I manage myself – twelve properties.’
She raised her eyebrows, impressed.
‘Seven properties were included in my divorce settlement and I’ve added to them gradually since then – they’re my pension fund,’ I said by way of explanation.
‘And I understand you’re a widow?’
‘Yes, my husband, my second husband, was killed in a climbing accident, just over a year ago now.’
‘That’s tough. Sorry to hear that. What about children?’
‘You’ve met my daughter, Julia. She’s from my first marriage. Peter and I didn’t have any between us. Fiona and Jack are Peter’s from his first marriage. We’d only been together three years...’
‘I see,’ she uncrossed her legs. ‘Let me tell you where we are in the investigation. We’ve been looking through your mobile phone and made a list of all your contacts. We’re checking if anyone known to you in England, was in Barbados at the time of the attack. Don’t look alarmed. This is standard procedure. In addition, from Fiona, Simon and Julia, we’ve got some names of people you know in Barbados, and we’re checking on them. I’d like you to go through the list, when you’re up to it, to see if we’ve missed anyone out.’ She fished in her briefcase and pulled out a thin folder, which she held out to me.
‘Can you leave it with me? I just can’t think straight at the moment.’ I took the file and put it on the bed.
‘Of course. But if you do think of any other names, you must let me know without delay. As a matter of interest, we have someone in custody on another matter, who’s been interviewed in connection with this case. We don’t have any evidence to support his involvement at this stage, so we’re keeping an open mind. DNA taken at the scene is being processed. Results are expected in the next couple of days, so we’ll know more then.’ She crossed her legs again.
‘We have established that Sir Ralph McIntyre-Brown and his wife are on the island. Can you tell me how you know them?’
‘Ralph? He’s one of the investors I mentioned – one of the wealthy business people. It was through him that I met Peter; when Ralph brought him along to join the investment group.’
‘When did you last see Sir Ralph?’
‘Well, I haven’t been going to the meetings for some time. After Peter died, last year, I had a breakdown and haven’t been able to work much since. It must have been at Peter’s funeral, the last time I saw him - last December. I think he was there with his wife.’
‘Did you know he was on the island?’
‘No, but I know he has a holiday home here. I think he comes out every year.’
‘Has he ever shown any interest in you?’
‘Sexually, you mean? Well, no... he’s quite proper, actually. A bit old-fashioned.’
‘Can you think of anyone who has ever made you feel uncomfortable? Paid you unwanted attention? Or anyone who could have a grudge? Anyone you might have upset at any time, maybe inadvertently? At work? Your Investment Group? Turned down some entrepreneurs? That sort of thing. Could anyone have a grudge against you? Is there a disgruntled former lover in your past? A tenant with a grudge? Have a good think about it and let me know if you come up with any names?’
‘I’ll try, but I’m sure it won’t be anyone I know who attacked me.’
‘Hmmm. You’d be surprised how often people are attacked by someone who knows them,’ was her response, as she bent down and retrieved a book from her briefcase. ‘Would you mind looking at these photographs to see if you recognise any of the faces?’ she held out an album.
My heart sank. ‘Well... I’m not sure... You know I can’t remember anything.’ I suddenly felt agitated.
‘Don’t worry. If you don’t recognise any of them, that’s fine. Just look at each one, if you don’t mind. It’s a long shot, but maybe one of the photographs will jog your memory?’
‘Well... I can try.’ I took the file from her, and started to leaf through the pictures, examining all of the faces very carefully. Most were of local, dark-skinned young men. I reached the last page and closed the file. Handing it back to Lynn, I shook my head. ‘Sorry. I’ve never seen any of those men before.’
‘Don’t worry. We knew it was a long shot.’ She put the file back in her briefcase.
‘What’s he like, this man you have in custody?’
She zipped up the briefcase and put it back on the floor. ‘I can’t comment on that. Tell me about your former husband. How long is it since you divorced?’
‘It’s about eight years, now.’ My fingers found my scar.
‘Do you keep in touch?’
‘Not really. But he came to the house a few months ago, when I was ill. I was in bed and didn’t want to see him. Fiona spoke to him. He told her he was worried about me after Peter’s death and just wanted to know I was ok. I told her to send him away.’
‘Did you think that odd? That he would come to your house?’
‘Not really. He’s a strange sort of character. He only lives a few streets away. I’ve noticed him parked at the end of my street a few times over the years. I once challenged him about it, a long time ago now, and he said he just wanted to see that I was alright. I don’t think that’s happened since I got together with Peter.’
‘That sounds odd behaviour, like stalking. You mentioned that you thought he was stalking you...’ Lynn checked her notes. ‘In an email to Fiona. Dated two years ago?’
‘Did I? Oh, yes, that was after I last noticed him parked in the street. I was annoyed, but not really worried. Has someone been reading all my emails, then?’ I was a bit taken aback.
‘We had to get on with the investigation while you were unconscious. We couldn’t wait for you to wake up, so we searched for anything that could possibly help us to find the perpetrator,’ she explained. ‘Tell me about your marriage. Why you split up.’ she asked.
‘Well... I was young when we got married – seventeen - just out of school and pregnant with Julia. He was older, controlling, always putting me down; didn’t want me to change. He objected to me going to college, and university. Then when I registered with an Agency and accepted a job, he was apoplectic. That was the beginning of the end.
‘What led to the final break, then?’
‘Things just got worse. At work, I was respected. At home, I was still treated as inferior. The arguments escalated and Saul’s moods became erratic. I told him I wanted to separate. One minute he would tell me to fuck off, he didn’t need me. The next, he would threaten to kill himself if I ever left him.’
‘Emotional blackmail,’ interjected Lynn.
I nodded. ‘Just when I thought I’d never escape without a lot of trouble, he suddenly agreed to let me go. He bought me out of my share of our house. We’d built up the property portfolio together, and he agreed to share this equally too – that’s how I ended up with the some of the properties.’
‘Was he ever violent towards you?’
‘Not physically. The hurt he inflicted was all emotional.’
‘Do you think he’d be capable of hurting you, physically?’
‘Do you mean, do I think he could he have attacked me? No. I know he’s an oddball, but I don’t honestly think he would do me any harm. I really don’t believe he would be capable of anything like that.’
‘Well, with a conviction for GBH, he clearly is capable of violence.’
I was puzzled. ‘What conviction?’
Her brown eyes widened in surprise. ‘Weren’t you aware of
his criminal record when you married him?’
‘No... when? I mean, what did he do?’
‘It was a long time ago. You’ll have to ask him about the details. If we don’t find the perpetrator here, we’ll no doubt want to interview him in due course, if only to rule him out.’
‘In England?’
‘If necessary. If our enquiries lead us to believe your assailant could be over there. The UK police won’t have any jurisdiction to investigate a crime carried out abroad,’ she explained. ‘Were there any other men, before you met Peter?’
‘No-one of any importance. I went out with a couple of guys, but nothing came of that. I can barely remember their names. Oh, this is exhausting.’ I held my head. ‘Why can’t I remember more about who attacked me? It’s so frustrating.’ I felt overwhelmed. My head was aching again.
‘It’s early days, yet, Carol. Give yourself time.’ She got to her feet and picked up her briefcase. ‘See if you can recall any more names. I’ll come to see you again tomorrow, but if you remember any in the meantime, give me a ring.’ She handed me a card. ‘The sooner we eliminate people, the better.’
She walked towards the door, then turned. ‘Oh, by the way, you may be aware there are a couple of police constables stationed outside the ward? It’s standard procedure when someone has been attacked and the perpetrator hasn’t been apprehended. Nothing to worry about.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The next day, when Wanda came into my room, I asked her to bring me a mirror.
‘You’ve been putting me off for a few days, but I really want to have a look at the damage. Honestly, I feel strong enough to face it now’
She nodded. ‘Ok. A mirror it is. Bear with me for a minute.’ she left the room but was soon back with a gilt, hand-held mirror. ‘Now, before I let you look,’ she said, holding the mirror behind her back, ‘I want you to understand that you are not a pretty sight, at the moment. You won’t be winning no beauty contests for a while, Ok? But there’s nothing to worry about. Everything will get back to normal, as you continue to heal. Ok?’ She continued to hide the mirror out of my reach, until I acknowledged what she’d said.
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