One by One: A brutal, gritty revenge thriller that you won't be able to put down.

by Robert Enright

None of it registered. Only one thing was swirling through Lucas’s mind, engulfing his vision as the world around him began to matter less.

  Helen.

  Lucas stared blankly at the floor, he couldn’t see the large pile of vomit fanning out around his knees.

  Helen.

  The vision of her began to flicker, like an old VCR cassette when the tape became entangled.

  She flickered.

  He reached out a hand, trying to touch her.

  Helen.

  She began to fade.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The flashing lights of the ambulance illuminated the rain drops. The wind was harsh, ripping through the crime scene which had been set up around Vale Park Industrial Estate. A lone police officer was unravelling thick, yellow police tape to cordon off the area. Another few were taking statements from potential witnesses, although none of the information seemed to be of any use. Officer Claire Mills of the Sexual Offence Investigation Team was standing by the doors to the ambulance as the busy paramedics carefully dragged the gurney across the wet gravel, an unresponsive Helen positioned on top. One of the paramedics held a pack of blood aloft, the tube connecting from the base to the unconscious victim.

  Starling stood a few feet away, his body trembling. He didn’t feel the wet of the night or the sharpness of the wind.

  All he felt was anger.

  This poor woman, despite the large swelling on her face was the same woman whose ID they’d found in the park. He had sent Boulder back to the station with her possessions, making it a personal obligation to stay with poor Helen until she either pulled through or….

  He gritted his teeth.

  By now, efforts would have been made to contact her husband up in Lincolnshire. This innocent woman was so far from her day to day life, it sickened Starling to think how alone she must have felt. How helpless.

  He cursed himself for not getting there sooner, fully aware that he couldn’t have driven any faster had he tried. There was nothing he could have done.

  This woman was taken from her evening, ripped out of her life and placed into a nightmare.

  She’d been beaten.

  She’d been raped.

  And now, more than likely, she was going to die.

  “Excellent work tonight, Starling.”

  His thoughts evaporated into the rain at the voice’s intrusion. Officer Mills smiled at him. She was in her mid-forties with copper hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her sharp facial features actually made her look younger than she was. Behind her, the ambulance roared into life, the piercing howl of the siren shooting through the cold air as it departed the scene as quickly as possible.

  '”t wasn’t enough,” Starling shook his head and turned to walk away.

  “We can never do enough, Ollie,” she called after him. He stopped in his tracks, refusing to turn. Refusing to let her see his eyes watering. “I’ve been doing this for nearly twenty years. I’ve seen things happen to women, men and kids that would haunt the worst of dreams.”

  Starling turned, his lips pulled tightly together in fury. Mills’ heart sank as she saw his red, blurry eyes.

  “Then why do you do it then?” he asked, searching for something on a night where only death hung in the air.

  “Because we are some people’s only chance.”

  Her words echoed through the night, dodging the onslaught from the sky and finding their way to Officer Starling. He nodded, not entirely in agreement and looked at the ground. Wet stones were scattered around his feet, all climbing over each other. The way the people in this city do at times, he thought. Mills took a few steps towards him, her heels crunching the gravel. Her copper hair was pushed wetly against her head.

  “You were her only chance, Ollie,” she reached out and gently stroked his arm. “You did everything you could for her.”

  Ollie retracted his arm, the fluorescent jacket flicking droplets into the sky.

  “It wasn’t enough though.”

  He nodded a thank you to Mills, who could only half force an attractive smile. He turned away from the crime scene, walking with purpose to his car.

  Someone had left that poor girl to die.

  His fists clenched, water trailing down and dripping off his knuckles, turning white through pressure.

  His boots crunched over the stones and he threw open his car door. Without even bothering to put on his seatbelt, he flicked on the siren and swung the car around, stones shooting upwards from the spin of the tyres.

  He would not abandon this girl.

  He sped off in pursuit of the ambulance, his car ripping through the wet night.

  It took Alex less than three minutes to snap Lucas out of the trance he had been sent into, calmly telling his best friend to get his coat and wait by the car. Lucas silently obliged, an urgency in every single movement.

  Officer Chamberlain had been nothing but respectful and it had looked like breaking the news to the unsuspecting husband would give him endless sleepless nights. Whilst Alex had been helping his best friend, trying to get him to breathe, Officer Chamberlain had managed to calm Dianne down. She was still weeping uncontrollably by the time she lowered herself gently into the driver’s seat of the car. Her hands were gripping the steering wheel but her arms were shaking.

  Alex couldn’t drive, he had had too much to drink but if he had to, he would have carried Lucas on his back all the way to London.

  He climbed in next to his wife, who was sobbing, thoughts of her best friend suffering relentlessly beating against her mind.

  “Just take your time, my love,” Alex said softly, ensuring the heartbreak in his voice wasn’t evident. The last thing Dianne or Lucas, who sat quietly in the back seat, needed was for him to be swallowed by the sadness as well. “Everything is going to be okay.”

  He smiled warmly at his wife, who dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. She had put on a thick coat over her dressing gown and in light of what had just fractured their lives, Alex had never loved her more.

  “Okay,” she repeated a number of times, composing herself while she adjusted the mirrors. Alex looked in the rear-view mirror as she turned it, observing Lucas.

  He said nothing.

  He sat in the seat behind Dianne, his body twisted at a slight angle, his forehead pressed against the raindrop-coated window. His eyes were empty, staring off into an unfathomable distance.

  “Don’t worry, Lucas,” Alex said, turning to look at the shell of his friend. “We’ll get there soon. I promise.”

  There was no response.

  Alex smiled in Lucas’s direction, but the man sat motionlessly, his gaze transfixed on the outside world. His eyes, a dark pink colour, had no tears left. He sat, lost in a sea of thoughts, trying to hold onto a small glimmer of hope that he would see his wife again. That he would bring her home.

  Alex turned away, gently resting a hand on Dianne’s thigh, comforting her as she sniffed through heavy breaths, a continuous stream of tears falling slowly from her eyes.

  He loved her so much and couldn’t imagine what was going through Lucas’s mind.

  He thought of Helen then, feeling his own tears forming, knowing his dear friend had been assaulted. He held them back.

  He couldn’t cry. Not yet.

  He had to keep Dianne calm and they had to take Lucas back to the one place he had never wanted to go, to face a situation no one would ever want to be in.

  As Dianne pulled onto the motorway, she turned her full beams on to burn a hole through the darkness.

  Alex reassured her with soothing words, putting her at ease.

  The rain crashed against the windscreen before being swept away by the wipers.

  Lucas remained still, staring out into nothingness.

  There was nobody in the men’s toilets on the third floor when Fletcher entered. He called out, seeing if anyone was in any of the cubicles and was answered with silence. He crouched down, peering under the doors but saw no feet. His back ached, a sign of age that he tr
ied his best to ignore as he straightened up.

  He strode to the sink, staring at the tired, wrinkled face he barely recognised any more. Sadness built inside him and he turned on the tap, a stream of warm water gushing out. He held his hands under it, cupping the water and then, despite the pain, bent down and splashed it across his face.

  It did nothing to assuage the misery, but the nausea subsided.

  He thought about that horrible feeling when the doctors had told him that Susan wasn’t going to make it.

  The harsh, hollow emptiness of the world that he had had to embrace since the day she’d left him.

  He thought about Helen.

  Beautiful Helen, one of the sweetest girls he had ever met, as intelligent as she was attractive, and blessed with a heart that was overflowing with kindness. Wonderful Helen, the woman who had done so much to fix Lucas.

  He thought of Lucas.

  He thought of the pain he must be going through. His mind then raced to the horrific ordeal that Helen had faced, on her own.

  He knew Lucas would never forgive himself.

  He thought of their world collapsing.

  Fletcher walked to a cubicle, his shoes slapping against the tiled floor, echoing off the tiled walls. Closing the door behind him, he jolted the rickety lock into place, and sat down on the closed lid of the toilet.

  Fletcher began to cry.

  Immediately the ambulance pulled into the bay outside The Royal London Hospital, a swarm of nurses rushed to the back doors. The driver killed the ignition, hopped out out and raced to the rear, ignoring the rain. The paramedic who was with Helen hurled open the doors and barked orders to the nurses as they quickly lifted the gurney to the wet pavement.

  A crowd had begun to form.

  Starling could see it as he pulled up, his lights still spinning like a Christmas tree inside a tornado and the siren wailing anguished screams into the night. He shut them off, not even bothering to park the car properly and leapt out.

  One of the paramedics and the nurses wheeled Helen in through the hospital’s automatic entrance, the other paramedic following close behind. His overalls and hands were red with the blood of innocence. Starling approached him.

  “How is she?” he asked, looking beyond and in through the glass front door. A doctor had joined the group of medics buzzing around Helen, conferring with the paramedic who had his hands pressed solidly over Helen’s midsection. Starling could see the blood from where he stood.

  “Not good, I’m afraid,” Starling was told. The medic looked to be in his early thirties with a strong jaw covered by a two-day stubble. He looked shattered. “She’s lost a lot of blood.”

  “Will she make it?” Starling asked, watching Helen being wheeled round a corner and out of sight. Droplets of cold water ran from his hair and into his eyes.

  The paramedic offered his best, positive smile but Starling saw through it. The man had seen enough in his time to know the score.

  Starling was still learning.

  Helen wasn’t going to make it.

  He trudged into the main hospital slowly, asking where the operating theatre was. A flash of the badge and he was led there by a young orderly, whose efforts to strike up a conversation fell on deaf ears. Starling walked down the corridor, bright white walls lit up by bright white lights. It stung his eyes and made him realise how tired he was. He sat down with a squelch on a seat in the waiting room, the only person there.

  Not many people require emergency lifesaving surgery at this time, he mused tiredly.

  He thought of poor Helen, knowing full well that any chance she had was minimal.

  He cursed himself for his earlier wish for excitement.

  He cursed the world for the cruelty it generously handed out to undeserving people.

  Sitting in a small green plastic chair, Starling waited, feeling the walls close in. Rain dripped off his clothes, off his skin and off his hair. He trembled, exhaustion and the chill of the night forming a formidable alliance.

  Time passed.

  At what rate, Starling couldn’t tell. But he was snapped awake, as Helen’s husband stormed into the waiting room.

  “Where is she?”

  Lucas had returned to reality when Alex had told him they’d arrived. He blinked a few times, the hospital appearing behind the car’s rain-speckled window He didn’t say a word instead throwing open the door and storming out through the unrelenting elements and straight into the hospital. Dianne agreed to remain in the car while Alex chased after his best friend.

  Lucas strode straight to the reception desk and it seemed like the nurses already knew who he was, sending him to the fourth floor. Alex caught up with him while he waited for the lift, trying to calm him down. Lucas stared at the metal doors, waiting for them to part in silence. Stepping into the lift, Lucas pressed the button to begin the ascent to the operating theatre.

  They stood in silence; Alex couldn’t even look at his friend.

  Lucas stared ahead and barged out through the doors as soon as they opened, banging his shoulder on the metal as it slid back. He followed the arrow signs, the familiar hospital smell hitting the back of his throat. He ignored it, striding down the bright corridor. He passed a few nurses, their overalls thick with blood. He pushed open the double doors as hard as he could, making a beeline straight for the surgeon who was standing outside the archway to the waiting room, down the corridor from the operating theatre. His green scrubs were dark, heavy and stained red. He pulled his mask down as Lucas approached, ignoring the young police officer sat at the far end of the small waiting room.

  “Where is she?” Lucas repeated, stopping just a few feet from the surgeon, looking over his shoulder at the door.

  “Are you Lucas?” Dr Amrit Singh was a tall, thin man. His nose seemed slightly too big for his face and his eyes displayed nothing but sorrow. His voice however, was calm.

  “That’s me.,” Lucas again peered over the doctor’s shoulder at the door, his voice breaking under the emotional strain. “I’m her husband.”

  “I need to tell you what’s happened.”

  “I know what’s happened. Can I see her?”

  “Mr Cole, your wife has been subjected to a very violent sexual assault. And…”

  “She was raped!” Lucas said coldly through gritted teeth, his eyes leaking, tears dropping from his cheeks to the white plastic-tiled floor below. Singh went to respond but couldn’t.

  “Can I see her?” Lucas suddenly felt weaker.

  “Mr Cole, the stab wound your wife received did considerable damage to her insides. She’s lost a lot of blood.”

  A visible pain struck Lucas, and he hunched over at the thought of his wife in so much agony. Alex, who stood quietly to the side, slowly placed a hand on his friend’s back for comfort. Starling looked down at the ground from his chair.

  “And I’m afraid she’s lost the baby.”

  Lucas looked up at Dr Singh immediately in confusion and when Alex turned with surprise, the doctor realised that this wasn’t common knowledge. Lucas tried to say the word, but couldn’t muster the ability to.

  Helen was pregnant.

  Had been.

  Lucas felt very light headed, stumbling a few feet to the side and colliding shoulder-first against the wall. Alex and Dr Singh tried to help him and Starling leapt from his chair.

  “Don’t touch me!” Lucas yelled, resting the side of his face and shoulder against the plaster wall. Tears fell from his eyes rapidly. All three men watched him feeling completely useless.

  “Lucas, I’m afraid the damage that was done to Helen was extensive and….”

  “What?” Lucas looked at the doctor, who had tried everything to save his wife. The man looked defeated.

  “I’m afraid there is nothing more we can do.”

  The doctor’s voice was covered in resignation and Lucas pushed himself from the wall. He stared beyond the doctor, at the thick, brown door to the theatre at the end of the corridor. Alex turned away,
the events of the evening finally overwhelming him and he began crying. Starling angrily punched the wall.

  “How long has she got?” Lucas mustered a whisper.

  “Not long…” Shah said sorrowfully.

  Lucas blinked away tears and took a few deep breaths. The leather jacket she’d bought him was soaked through. He slid it off and dropped it on a nearby chair. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, hoping to remove the evidence of sadness. He then slowly walked past the surgeon and towards the door.

  He drew a lungful of air to steady himself, knowing the only thing that awaited him on the other side of the door was what he feared most.

  He pushed open the door and entered.

  The constant beep of the life-support machine was the only sound in the room, reverberating off the dark walls. Only a few lights were on, directly above the operating table. The sides of the room were smudged with deep, lightless shadows, but Lucas could make out the outline of cupboards and apparatus.

  Beep! Beep!

  The sterility of the room hung in the air and nearly knocked Lucas to the ground as he inhaled. He refused to look to the centre of the room. He knew Helen was lying on top of the table, illuminated by lights like a grand prize on a game show.

  Only this was not a prize Lucas wanted to win.

  He slowly approached her, looking in all directions but ahead. He noticed splatters of blood on the cold, tiled floor. Incongruous patches of red amongst the bland white environment which had been scrubbed ferociously but had only slightly faded.

  Beep! Beep!

  Finally he halted, light engulfing him as he stepped up to the steel rectangular table. He closed his eyes, his mouth curling up in a scowl. Tears fell down his cheeks.

  He looked at Helen.

  Instantly his world collapsed the moment he saw her. Lying on her back, her eyes were closed, hidden behind swellings that even now were turning from purple to black. A tube ran from her mouth to a respirator, which was hissing air as the bag inflated and deflated rhythmically. Her lips were swollen, cut and bloodied from what Lucas instantly recognised was a right hook.