The Grave Part 10

The little statue in the town centre had popped into her mind, the tiny lost woman. That was who she was, a lost creature, alone and friendless.

"Great, and where are you from Sylvie?"

"Oh, all over the place, I have been in London."

"Right, good. How long have you and Samuel been together?"

As he asked the question shock thudded through her, landing in her stomach like a rock. It was so little, such a very, very short time. If she said it was barely a week they would ridicule her, it would cause more suspicion. They wouldn't understand. She didn't understand herself, how could anyone ever explain it, this attraction, it was deeper than that, a knowledge, a certainty which defied expression. Since she had gone with him to the poor shack and given him her body she had known she loved him totally. When he had said he would take her away, after the terrible thing with Phil, she had known she would go. Even though she had watched him kill the other man, seen him blood splattered and wild with violence, she wanted to be with him. How could she make them see? She couldn't and so would lie and weave a tale, make it stick and get them out of this. She would.

"We've been together a while, I can't remember exactly how long. A while anyway. I met him in a bar. I know it sounds bad but it wasn't. I fell over and he drove me home."

Much of it was true, tiny sparks of honesty in the dark web of subterfuge. If she could keep it simple and give herself handholds of accuracy she would climb out of this mess.

"Anyway then we got together and he brought me here. We went out, to look around the town and buy some clothes and then when we got back that man was in the room. He had a gun, he threatened us both."

"Did he shoot Samuel?"

"Yes."

"How did he get shot, the other man? There was only one gun, who shot him Sylvie?"

Now, it was now, this was where it all came cras.h.i.+ng down around her, the end of everything. She gulped.

"It was me, you already know don't you, it's obvious I was the one."

"That what Sylvie? The one that what?"

Trapped, a rabbit in the headlight, petrified. Her heart pounded, she couldn't breathe, her eyes had filled with tears and the room spun and tipped. She had slipped and now she was sliding deeper, there had been no choice there were finger prints, her finger prints. She couldn't do this, the maze closed, there was no way to turn.

"Hey, are you okay? Put your head down. Take some deep breaths, keep calm."

Someone was touching her, she felt it distant and unreal, she was bent forward and a hand rubbed her back. The darkness receded. For a long moment she stayed where she was, gaining time, time to think. She would have to do this now, would tell them what had happened. If only her brain could keep up with her instincts she could force it all to make sense to them and muddy the waters enough to save him.

She lifted her head.

"I'm okay, sorry I felt dizzy. I'm okay now. I shot him, the other man. I had no choice, he had already shot Samuel and he was going to kill me, he said he was going to rape me first. I thought Samuel was dead, I don't remember it very clearly but I know I shot him. I got the gun from him and I blew his face off."

As the words left her mouth she felt a strange desire to giggle, hysteria threatened to take over, how would they react, laughing now when she had just admitted to killing a man.

She stopped, looked at their faces; there was nothing in the detective's eyes apart from a sort of resigned acceptance.

"You shouldn't really say anymore now Sylvie. If you are telling me you shot the other man then you shouldn't say anymore, you should have someone with you, a solicitor."

"Do I have to, can't I just tell you?"

"Wait, just wait. I need someone else in here with us, and I need you to think about what you are doing. I need to record what you say. You are going to have to come to the police station."

"I'll tell you about it now. I don't want to go away from here, not until we find out about Samuel."

"Are you sure?"

"If you let me stay until I know he's going to be alright then I'll come with you and I'll do whatever you want and I'll tell you what happened. It wasn't my fault, I had to do it."

"Stop, stop Sylvie. Look we will stay, just until he is out of the operating theatre and then we'll go and do this properly. It's for your protection as much as anything. We have to do this the right way. For now though I am going to have to take your clothes. I'll go and see what I can get for you to wear. I'll leave Constable Forbes with you but I don't want you to talk to her about all of this. Okay?"

She nodded as fresh tears flooded down her face. He couldn't help it he felt sorry for this sc.r.a.p of a girl and hoped that when she managed to tell them what had happened it would be alright for her. Had she really done whatever she had done in self-defence, been in mortal danger? For now he would simply try and work within the rules and play everything as straight as he could.

When the call had come in about a double shooting he had a.s.sumed some sort of drug gang carnage. Seems he had been wrong, or maybe not, he knew enough to reserve judgement. In his mind all the time was the bag from under the bed, stuffed full of cash. This was usually a signal of drugs, but in the room there had been no other sign. Sylvie didn't look like a user and the medical bods had told him there were no drugs in Samuel's blood. It remained to be seen what was in the body of the dead man, there were scars and a deformed hand but it meant nothing to them yet.

Chapter 40.

"Here you are Sylvie, I brought you a track suit thing. I know it's not very glamorous but we do need to have your clothes. We will need your finger prints as well and I'm sorry but we need a DNA sample. We can do it all later when we go down to the station but for now let's just get your clothes bagged up."

She stretched out her hand and took the plastic wrapped parcel. Her throat was dry and there was a horrible dead feeling in the pit of her belly. This, this fingerprinting and processing was something she had spent so many years determined to avoid. She had been aware of it from her very early years when her father had been taken away over and over and her mother had started the tedious business of organising representation for him and pleading his innocence all the time in full knowledge of his guilt. So, here she was, her father's daughter, in the hands of the police, probably going to jail for a crime far more serious than any that poor useless man had ever encountered and so it had all come to nothing.

Why had she bothered to try? All those long years fighting a past which had proved inescapable? It was hopeless, but she had to keep on trying, Samuel was fighting to live she had to try and give him something to live for. She took a deep breath.

"Where shall I change, not here?" She indicated the little yellow room, the box of toys in the corner and the collection of picture books and old magazines. Such an innocuous little s.p.a.ce to witness the intensity of human life that had surely pa.s.sed this way. The quiet room they called it, yet surely the very walls had been imbued with the sound of lives in turmoil.

"No, no of course. Can you manage in the ladies do you think?"

"Yeah, yeah sure."

"Constable Forbes will have to go with you, sorry."

"It's fine." She dredged up a smile for them, made it seem brave and tremulous, squeezed out a tear or two.

As they stood to leave the door swung open. A doctor in his white coat and the young nurse from earlier took a couple of steps inside.

"Hi, are you Sylvie?"

He held out his hand. She couldn't answer, desperately trying to read his expression, her eyes flicking back and forth between him and the nurse. She nodded.

"I'm Doctor Price. I've been helping to look after your husband."

"Boyfriend, he's my boyfriend."

Aware of the detective standing beside her she needed to appear honest, open.

"Oh, right, well anyway we have you as his next of kin."

Again she inclined her head. She wanted to hear, didn't want to hear, wanted this to be over, couldn't bear it to be over if the news was bad.

"Right, well. We've been struggling with Samuel, he was very badly hurt as you know. He didn't help us much." Here he smiled. Silently she hated his medical humour and understatement. She could feel nails digging into the soft tissue on the palm of her hand, still she could only wait, mute with fear.

"We had to fix his lungs, he'll probably need more work later."

Her vision swum with the relief of it, more work later, later, later.

"He was lucky, there was very little damage to his heart from the erm incident itself although the shock did send him into arrest a couple of times. He seems pretty fit and so he should recover well from that part. There was huge blood loss which gave us a lot of problems. Anyway, at the moment he is in recovery and then later when we're sure he's stable they'll take him to the ITU. You will be able to see him there, though don't expect too much. We're going to keep him asleep for now but you can at least pop in and see him for yourself.

The relief was too much, she knew what she should do was thank this man, thank him from the very bottom of her soul but her throat had closed. Tears gathered there unshed, stole her ability to speak and all she could do was shake with reaction. Her knees wobbled and she had to step backwards, lower herself to the seat and hide her head in her hands.

"Are you okay?"

The nurse had laid a hand across her shoulder, rubbing gently bringing some human warmth.

Sylvie nodded.

"We'll leave you to calm down a bit but later on if you think of any questions just ask for me. It's been a hard night for all of us."

She heard the door swing back.

"Doctor."

"Yes."

"Thank you, I don't know how to thank you."

He didn't speak, he beamed a bright smile and nodded and then swept out back into the real world.

"Okay Sylvie, that's great news, really. So when you've seen him we can go and get started on sorting this out."

She turned to look at the detective, relief was smoothing the lines on his face, there was something else, a purpose to him, a resolve that hadn't been there before. He was ready now to take care of business. Her heart slowed, she needed to take stock and to act. It was time to plan, time to deal with this and going to the police station, answering questions, giving them cells from her body and prints from her hands might not be the way.

"Right. I'll go and get changed shall I?" She gathered up the package of clothes and turned to the door.

Chapter 41.

"I'll wait here for you." The policewoman leaned against the beige wall, she looked tired, was probably desperate for the end of her s.h.i.+ft and some sleep.

Sylvie stepped into a small cubicle and dropped the parcel onto the closed toilet lid. There was nothing in there; some sc.r.a.ps of toilet paper lay on the floor. Sylvie had chosen the end one on the off chance there would be a window. There was, high up in the wall, covered on the outside with wire and with no obvious way to open it. Okay that wasn't going to work.

She stripped off her clothes, stiff with dried blood.

"Do I have to take everything off, you know my underwear and everything?"

"Yes, sorry. There should be some paper pants in the package. Sorry."

"It's okay." She had to keep this woman relaxed, friendly if possible.

Her heart was pounding, she had made a decision and it was tearing her apart. She needed to see Samuel as much as she needed to breathe but saw now it just couldn't be. After her visit to his bedside the police would take over, lead her away and then, who knew? She understood the day could end with her locked in a cell somewhere, her life taken out of her hands as the great juggernaut of the law rolled forward. They might put her in handcuffs, she had told them she shot someone so it didn't seem too far-fetched, certainly they would escort her closely. If she was to escape then they must be taken completely by surprise.

If she had simply shot the man at the hotel, d.a.m.n she still didn't even know his name, if the tale she had invented had been the truth, then she might have taken the chance, thrown her future into the hands of the authorities but there was all the rest of it. There was Samuel's history of involvement with drugs, violence, his continued flight, and although she knew so little of this she knew that being with him had tainted her. Then there was the other thing, the horrible thing with Phil, it was there, a monster lurking in every corner, behind every door. She had seen a man killed, a man she had known and shared a bed with. That he had been beating her was relevant at the early stage but once she left Samuel to deal with it, to hide the evidence she had heaped trouble upon trouble and had no idea where it left her.

Great tears followed so many others she'd already cried, tears for Samuel, for herself and for the unfairness of life. Unbelievably she had found someone to love, someone who had been kind and now was about to leave him while he fought to live.

If she stayed she couldn't help him, once they started the questioning it would undoubtedly make things worse. She didn't have his skill at surviving against the odds, didn't know how to lie and react to situations the way he did, though she knew she would have to learn and quickly. Any mistakes she made could well cost him his freedom. Though it tore her apart she had to leave him, leave him and trust in his skill at survival.

She was choking now on the unshed sorrow, her throat was tight with the pain which seemed unbearable yet must be borne. There had to be a way not only to bear it but to act now with bravery and daring and get away. What would come afterwards was lost in the mist of tomorrow.

"There are no shoes, can I keep my shoes on?"

"Oh, oh right, yeah normally they would give you slipper things. Well, I don't see what else we can do, yeah keep em on. I suppose you've walked about so much here they wouldn't be any use to us anyway."

"Right. Okay."

Holding the bag of clothes in front of her she stepped out of the cubicle, locked a small smile into her lips and handed the parcel over.

"Come on Sylvie. Let's go and see Samuel and then we have to get on with this."

They turned into the corridor side by side. The hospital was waking to the day and porters, nurses, cleaners pa.s.sed them with curious glances, one or two smiled knowing that this little world held many stories and it was of no use to jump to conclusions. A girl in a grey tracksuit walking with a policewoman could mean so many things.

As they approached the elevator Sylvie began to form a plan, she had to act on instinct, take whatever fate threw her way. Constable Forbes was fairly relaxed; she was tired and trusting, she probably thought the only thing possibly on Sylvie's mind was her boyfriend behind the clouded gla.s.s doors at the end of this long corridor.

A small group of workers were waiting for the lift, Sylvie slowed her pace.

"Are you alright Sylvie?"

"No, not really, I feel dizzy, a bit sick. I'm scared, you know what will he look like and what's going to happen."

"Hey, keep hold love. We'll sort it out. Let's get this bit over and then we can get you some breakfast perhaps and a cup of tea. Look just hang on, take a minute."

"Yeah, yeah thanks."

The lift was on the floor below, coming up, the little crowd was shuffling and preparing to walk forward. Sylvie leaned against the wall, closed her eyes, listening for the doors to open. The crowd moved in, someone pushed the b.u.t.ton, the doors began to close, she had to judge this just right, wait, wait. Now, now as the door swished the final few inches she straightened and bolted into the grey metal s.p.a.ce.

She pushed into the group of startled people and as the slit of light closed she had a last view of Constable Forbes darting forward finger extended ready to poke at the b.u.t.tons, to stop the lift.

She forced a giggle from her lips. "Whew nearly missed it, came over all dizzy again. I swear that's the last time I go on a binge. Don't know what my mum would say if I let the police take me home."

She watched their faces, lips pursed in disapproval, eyebrows raised, she had hit the right note. They had seen it so many times, silly drunken youngsters taking up precious resources week after week, never learning the lessons. They turned away from her, beneath their contempt. One young cleaner winked, and she smiled back at him.