Devil in the Detail by A.J. Cross (love letters to the dead .TXT) 📗

closely followed by, did he have anything to do with what happened to the Lawrences?’

SIX

Wednesday 5 December. 10.15 a.m.

Hit by a combination of heat, sweat and testosterone, Watts came inside the gym and found himself surrounded by machines, weights and rippling muscles. Tensing his own abs, he waited for the short, muscular man heading towards him.

‘Allo, Mr Watts. Here for our special offer, an introductory try-out?’ He gave Watts a once-over. ‘Have to say, you’re looking a lot trimmer, a lot fitter than when I saw you twelve months back. Come on. I’ll give you the tour.’

‘Thanks, Sidney, another time. I’m here about the incident in Forge Street on Monday night.’

‘Guessed it. Our Nigel told me he’d seen you.’

‘Got anything for me? Anything that might involve carjacking?’ Watts followed him to a table heaped with towels, then waited as he started folding them.

‘Might have. Somebody from five or so years back. Young fella. Used to come in here, regular, and then he didn’t.’ He glanced up at Watts. ‘Carjacking is what he was sent down for. Don’t ask me for an address. I don’t know any details.’

‘I’ll settle for a name.’

‘Jonah Budd.’

As Watts left the gym his phone rang. It was the hospital, informing him that Molly Lawrence had regained consciousness an hour ago. ‘Thanks. Somebody will be there in fifteen minutes.’ He phoned Judd.

‘Molly Lawrence is conscious. Go to the hospital. Have a word with the staff. Ask if she’s well enough for you to see her. If she is, introduce yourself to her. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’ He made a second call, this time to the scene, spoke to one of the officers there.

‘Any progress?’

‘No, Sarge. We’re still searching but this whole area is a mess of rubble, holes—’

‘Keep at it.’

He got another call, this one from Jones to tell him that the major incident room in its basic form was up and running.

‘Good. Tell everybody that the first formal briefing is this afternoon at two.’

Wednesday 5 December. 11 a.m.

‘Mrs Lawrence is conscious but she’s still heavily medicated,’ said the doctor, ‘so it’s very possible she’ll drift off again.’

‘I won’t stay long,’ said Judd. ‘I’ll introduce myself and let her know that we’ve begun our investigation into what happened to her and her husband.’

The doctor nodded. ‘Knowing that something is being done has to be good for her.’ He beckoned to a colleague who approached them. ‘This is one of the nursing team caring for Mrs Lawrence.’ And to the nurse, he said, ‘PC Judd is part of the police investigation. She’d like to see Molly and offer her some reassurance that the police are doing all they can.’

Judd followed her. ‘Is Mrs Lawrence aware of what’s happened to her husband and herself?’

The nurse stopped at a door, lowered her voice. ‘Her mother was here for most of yesterday. Earlier this morning she told Molly that they had been shot, that her husband had been very badly wounded, but not that he had died. She did tell her that her pregnancy had ended. She did it as well as anyone might, given the circumstances.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ve worked in this ICU for eight years and I can’t recall a case that’s had such an impact on staff here.’

Her hand on the door handle, she looked directly at Judd, her voice now a whisper. ‘I haven’t seen any real indication that she’s absorbed what her mother told her. She hasn’t spoken about it to any of us caring for her. We were anticipating she would ask questions but she hasn’t. Not even when her mother-in-law came in to see her very briefly.’ She sighed. ‘It’s terrible, what’s happened to them, but of course she’s not even begun to process it. My impression is that she thinks her husband is going to walk in here to see her.’

‘Were you on duty when they were brought in?’

‘Yes. That’s when I was assigned to Molly’s care team.’

‘Has she asked you about her own injuries?’

‘No. That’s another of our concerns. She knows she’s injured but she doesn’t seem to be making a connection between that, her pregnancy and what’s happened to her husband. We feel desperately sorry for her. She’s been quite agitated since she regained consciousness, telling one of my colleagues that she had to leave, that she had a gynaecological appointment.’ Seeing Judd’s face, she added, ‘Molly’s in good hands here. We anticipate her being with us for a little while. We have a bereavement specialist on site. We’ll involve her as soon as the time looks right.’

‘Has she had any other visitors, apart from her mother and mother-in-law?’

‘No. She wasn’t well enough.’ She pushed open the door.

Judd followed her inside, keeping her voice low. ‘Detective Inspector Watts is on his way. He should be here soon.’

The nurse nodded, went across the room to the bed, leant over its occupant and returned to Judd, whispering, ‘She’s asleep. I’ll inform the desk where you are. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.’

She left the room. Judd felt suddenly vulnerable, out of her depth. She went quietly to the bed, the woman lying there barely making a shape under the covers, her eyes closed.

‘Mrs Lawrence …? Molly?’

Getting no response, she turned away, went to the window and looked out, willing Watts to arrive soon. She turned as the door opened. The nurse was back.

‘Any luck?’

Judd shook her head. ‘She’s sleeping.’

The nurse leant over the bed, lightly pressed the slim hand lying on the covers. ‘Molly?’ she said softly. ‘Molly, there’s a very nice young police officer here to see you. Her name’s …?’ She looked at Judd.

‘Chloe Judd.’

‘Did you hear that, Molly? Her name’s Chloe. That’s nice, isn’t it?’

Judd slowly approached the bed, looked down at wavering blue eyes fringed with dark lashes. ‘Hello, Mrs Lawrence,’ she whispered.

The woman looked up, eyes drifting to the nurse who quickly moved over to her.

‘I’m here, Molly. I’ll help you up.’

The nurse reached for a keypad. Judd watched