Snatched (10 page)

‘Mr Day?’

Jumping at the sound of the voice, Terry turned and looked at the young nurse.

‘Sorry,’ she apologised, smiling up at him. ‘Didn’t mean to shock you. I just wanted to make sure you were okay?’

‘I’m fine,’ he lied. ‘But how’s Connor? He’s not had a turn or anything, has he?’

‘No change,’ the nurse assured him. ‘But that’s a good sign, so don’t worry. The first twenty-four hours are the worst, but if there’s no deterioration in that time there’s usually a very good chance of a full recovery.’ Giving Terry a concerned look now, she said, ‘You must be exhausted. Why don’t you nip home and have a bit of sleep? I’ve got your mobile number if we need to reach you before you get back.’

Terry didn’t want to go, but she was right about him being knackered. And he could really do with a shower, because the stench of sweat was knocking
him
sick, so God only knew what it was doing to her.

Nodding, he said, ‘Yeah, all right. Just – you know – call me if there’s any change.’

‘Of course.’

Dipping his gaze when she smiled at him again, Terry sidestepped her and rushed out.

Walking back to the flat, because he figured it would be quicker than waiting for a bus, he was half expecting to find Leanne’s mates still there when he let himself in. But it was not only empty, it was also spotlessly clean – which made him feel like a complete bastard for all the nagging he’d done earlier.

Going quietly into the bedroom, Terry gazed down at Leanne as she lay sleeping. She was so beautiful, and he felt guilty about all the shit he’d been putting her through lately.
He
was the one who’d cheated on his wife, and it had been
his
decision to do it in his marital bed. And the fact that it had been a drunken mistake that he probably would have regretted as soon as he was sober made no odds. Sue had caught them, and he’d had to take the consequences when it had all kicked off.

And Leanne had stood by him when everyone else turned against him, despite her dad falling out with her over it – which had really hurt her, Terry knew, because she’d always been a daddy’s girl. But instead of thanking her for her loyalty, Terry had spent the last few months making her life a misery; resenting her for getting on with her life and having fun, because he still felt too guilty to dredge up a smile.

He knew exactly what everyone thought of him for getting caught in bed with a sixteen-year-old, and he didn’t blame them, because he’d have thought the same if he’d been looking at someone else in that position. And the fact that Leanne was almost eighteen now and that he’d grown to love her was beside the point, because the face he saw in the mirror every morning was still that of a dirty old man.

But that was his problem, not Leanne’s, and if he didn’t get a grip and stop punishing her for it, he would lose her as well as everything else.

Tiptoeing out of the room now, Terry cleaned himself up and got changed. Then he wrote a quick note for Leanne, telling her that he loved her, and was sorry about their row and wanted her to come to the hospital when she woke up. Leaving it and a ten-pound note for a taxi on the pillow, he crept out again, picking up the car keys on the way.

Stretching lazily when she woke up several hours later, Leanne rolled over to give Terry a kiss. Frowning when she found that his side of the bed was empty, it took her a moment to remember what had happened the night before.

Snatching the note up when she saw it, she read it with a sneer, then screwed it up and threw it across the room. If he thought she was letting him off the hook that easily, he had another think coming! He’d been completely out of order shouting at her like that, and he’d have to do a damn sight better than say sorry in a poxy letter before she would even
think
about forgiving him. And if he seriously thought she was going to waste that tenner on a taxi to the hospital so she could sit and watch him moping over his brat of a son all day, then he was more stupid than he looked.

Shoving the quilt aside, Leanne got up and padded through to the living room to find her phone. Switching it back on, she rang Goldie to ask if she was still having the party she’d mentioned last night.

‘Don’t tell me you’re actually going to come?’ Goldie teased. ‘Wow, I’m honoured. You haven’t set foot in my place all year.’

‘Not that easy when you’re dragging a fucking great ball and chain around,’ Leanne said flippantly. ‘Anyway, never mind all that, who else is going?’

‘Everyone,’ Goldie told her. Then, lowering her voice as if afraid that Terry might be listening, she said, ‘You’re not planning on bringing Terry, though, are you? Only I don’t think that’d be such a good idea.’

‘He’s not coming,’ Leanne assured her, sliding a cigarette out of her packet and lighting it. ‘He’s still at the hospital.’

‘Oh, right.’ Goldie sounded relieved. ‘Everything okay?’

‘Fine,’ Leanne said offhandedly. ‘Anyway, what you wearing?’

Hanging up when she’d found out what she wanted to know, Leanne switched the phone off again to prevent Terry from getting hold of her and putting the mockers on her plans. Finishing her cigarette, she went back into the bedroom to root through her clothes.

Settling on a pair of skin-tight black satin pants that she hadn’t worn in ages because Terry reckoned they were indecent, and a red halter-neck top that he hated her going out in because it made her boobs look amazing and he couldn’t bear the thought of all the lads getting a free eyeful, she laid them out on the bed and ran herself a bath.

Sod Terry. If he wanted to move into the hospital for the duration, that was his business. But Leanne had a life to be getting on with, and she was going to start enjoying it for a change.

Back at the hospital, Terry sat beside Connor’s bed for the rest of the day, listening to the bleeping machinery and trying to block out the cries of the other patients and relatives who were suffering their own nightmares in the adjoining rooms.

Focusing all his attention on Connor, he willed him to come round, and prayed like he’d never prayed before. And not just the usual ‘Do this for me, God, and I swear I’ll never smoke or drink again’ kind of praying; but a deep, heartfelt plea for his son’s recovery – and for Nicky’s safe return.

And it seemed to be working – in Connor’s case, at least – because the doctor had been really pleased with his progress when he’d checked on him that evening, calling it a miracle that Connor had escaped without more serious injury. And when Terry had asked why he still hadn’t come round if he was doing so well, he’d said that it was quite normal; that patients – particularly children – tended to stay under for quite a while when they had experienced the kind of shock that Connor had suffered.

‘Sleep is the body’s way of repairing itself,’ he’d said. ‘Without the added stress of the conscious mind reminding it of the trauma that it’s suffered.’

That seemed plausible enough to Terry, but he still couldn’t relax. Not until he was sure that Connor wasn’t suffering any of the other things that the doctor had mentioned they were looking out for. Like
pneumonia
.

Just the word alone scared the hell out of Terry, who had always associated it with certain death. And the doctor’s assurance that they very rarely lost patients to it these days did little to ease his fears. He wished Leanne would come and take his mind off it all, but she still hadn’t turned up, and every time he’d tried to call her, her phone had been switched off. And Carole wasn’t answering hers, so he couldn’t even get her to go round to the flat and check if everything was all right.

Worn out with worrying about Connor, and with frustration about not being able to contact Leanne, Terry didn’t even realise he’d fallen asleep until he was woken by a faint whimpering sound some time later. Confused by the darkness, unaware that a nurse had been in and switched the light off and drawn the blinds, he peered at the strange silhouettes in the room, trying to figure out where he was.

Hearing the noise again, he realised it was Connor and jumped to his feet, saying, ‘That you, son? You awake?’

Forcing his gluey eyes open at the sound of his father’s voice, Connor peered blurrily up at him.

Resisting the urge to hug him, because he was terrified of dislodging any of the tubes or wires, Terry turned to the door and yelled for help.

Bustling in seconds later, the nurse flicked the overhead light on. Smiling when Connor winced in the sudden brightness, she said, ‘Well, hello there, little man. Had a good sleep, did we?’

Opening his mouth to answer, Connor immediately started to gag.

‘What’s happening?’ Terry yelped, afraid that his son was choking. ‘Do something!’

Placing a gentle hand on Connor’s shoulder, telling him to try and lie still until the doctor came to take a look at him, the nurse reached over and pressed a button on the wall behind his bed.

Trusting the caring tone of her voice, even though he felt like he had something really big and horrible stuck in his throat, Connor gazed up at her fearfully, trying his best not to struggle.

‘What’s wrong with him?’ Terry asked again, wringing his hands together behind her.

‘Nothing,’ the nurse assured him quietly. ‘This is the usual response when patients wake up with the tube.’ Smiling at Connor again now, she said, ‘But you’re being a whole lot braver than some of the bigger boys we have in here, I can tell you. You wouldn’t believe the fuss some of
them
kick up. But you’re being really good, and I bet your daddy is really proud of you.’

‘I am,’ Terry mumbled, swiping at a tear that was trickling down his cheek.

Coming in a few seconds later, the doctor took a quick look at Connor then turned and headed for the door, jerking his head at Terry to follow.

‘Everything looks fine,’ he said quietly. ‘But I’m going to remove the tube and take a look down his throat with a camera to make sure there’s nothing nasty lurking down there. Now, you’re quite welcome to stay, but I warn you it isn’t the most pleasant of sights, so I’d advise you to go and get yourself a drink if you don’t think you’re up to it.’

Reluctant to leave Connor who looked every bit as scared as he himself was, but unable to bear the thought of watching the procedure they were about to perform, Terry opted for the drink. Backing guiltily out of the room, he called out to Connor that he’d be back soon.

Getting a coffee from the machine, he carried it down to the ground floor and out to the bench that was beginning to feel like part of his own furniture because he’d visited it so many times over the last few hours.

Jay and Ann had just come out of a burger shop on Oxford Street when they got the call telling them that Connor had regained consciousness. Jumping into the car, they headed straight to the hospital.

Telling Ann to park up and eat her burger before it got cold, Jay got out of the car and walked towards the main doors – too deep in thought to notice Terry staring at her from the bench a few feet away.

The search of the field had gone badly, and she’d been thoroughly humiliated when one of the PCs had pointed out – loudly, to make sure that everyone heard him putting Jay in her place – that the ‘signs of disturbance’ she’d thought she’d found near the bushes edging the perimeter fence were most likely the result of all the feet that
she
had directed into that area in her first frantic push to locate the body she’d been so sure they would find there. And as for the blood she’d found on the rock, and the clump of hair tangled in the brambles, well, they could have come from anyone or any
thing
. And even if the material
had
belonged to her ‘invisible murder victim’, it was already so contaminated by the bad weather and whichever animals had traipsed through the scene between it being deposited and subsequently discovered that it would be absolutely unusable as evidence.

That bruising to her ego had kept Jay awake long after she’d climbed into bed that morning. Not to mention the rollicking she’d had off DI Hilton for wasting manpower and hours on the basis of nothing more substantial than an instinct. So, after tossing and turning for several hours, she’d given up on trying to sleep and had headed out to do in her own time what she should have done during her shift the night before.

Calling on each of the girls in Kelly Greene’s gang in turn, Jay hadn’t been surprised that they had all been expecting her. Or that they all mirrored Kelly’s version of events about the alleged fight at school. Yes, they
had
known that Kelly wanted to ‘get’ Nicky, they’d admitted. And, yes, Jay probably
would
see them on the CCTV footage running across the field if she checked. But no, they hadn’t caught up with her then, and nor had they gone round to her house later. And between nine and ten that night, they had all been watching
Rain Man
with their parents.

Whether or not they were telling the truth, Jay still thought that the fear of Kelly’s threats might have been a factor in Nicky’s disappearance. But without proof, Kelly was off the hook. And Jay had nobody but herself to blame, because she’d given Kelly ample opportunity to coach her friends while she’d been busy conducting her abortive search.

Annoyed with herself about that, she’d pushed the girls to the back of her mind and had turned her attention to finding out which cab firm Sue and her friend had used. Which turned out to be a simple matter of asking Pauline Wilson, who knew both the company name and number, having seen it on the top of the cars that regularly picked Sue up on Friday nights – as, Pauline said, she could have told Jay yesterday, had Jay thought to ask.

Speaking to the actual driver, Jay had been disappointed to hear that he didn’t know which club Sue and her friend had gone to, because they’d got out at the bus station to buy a pack of cigarettes from the machine and he’d had to leave them to make the rest of the way on foot because he’d already been late for another pick-up. But he
had
been able to tell her the friend’s name. And, even better, her address.