Guilty Conscious by Oliver Davies (best ereader for students .txt) 📗

“Will do. Thanks, Isaac.”

He gave me a wave, turning around and going back to the station. I didn’t give myself time to feel guilty about leaving him to work the case alone, just jumped into my car and peeled off to the main road, heading out of the city as evening began to fall.

I rolled through the familiar streets and countryside, faintly aware of my questionable driving as I peeled towards the small hospital, swinging into the car park as dusk fell, the street lights flickering on. I ran over to the entrance, finding Sally’s dad inside waiting for me.

“Max,” he said, gripping my arms in the strange little hug he liked to do.

“Paul.”

“This way.” He jerked his chin, leading me through reception, who nodded in our direction, over to the lift.

“Any news?” I asked as the doors closed, and we went up. He pushed his grey hair from his face and shook his head.

“They’re still running some tests, but she’s in bed and asleep now, and they’re not too worried. She’s not in any immediate danger.” He spoke to me quickly and concisely, and I’d always appreciated that about him. He looked at my tense jaw and grinding teeth and lay one of his big hands on my shoulder, saying nothing.

The lift doors opened, and he walked me along the shiny hallway to where Elinor sat outside a room. Sally lay with her head in her lap and her feet in Tom’s, his coat laid over her like a blanket. He gave me a smile as we neared, and I bent to kiss Elinor on the cheek before walking to the door and peeking through the window. She took my head as I looked on Elsie, all small and tucked up in bed, her heart rate monitor beeping steadily.

Bad timing, I thought guiltily. This was all very bad timing.

Twelve

Thatcher

I was exhausted the next morning, trudging up the stairs in the station, the noise of the building falling on my slightly numb ears. I’d left the hospital after an hour or so, realising that there wasn’t anything I could do. Tom had woken Sally up, and I’d left with them, Elinor and Paul promising to get in touch with any changes. I’d wanted to go into Elsie’s room, but there was no point, and if she found out that I’d gone in and sat all morosely by her bed, she’d give me a right scolding. I hadn’t slept well either. Liene was at hers that night, so I’d lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling, mind whirring with thoughts of Edward Vinson, Stella Helman, Billie Helman and Elsie, all tucked up in her big hospital bed. It was always wrong seeing her outside the village, especially in somewhere as big, white and chemical scented as the hospital.

My eye had only just closed, and then my alarm started blaring. I rolled out of bed and straight into a cold shower, hoping to wake myself up well enough to be of use today. We were due to track down Mark Helman and see what he could tell us about either of his daughters and what he knew about Edward Vinson. After my shower, I scarfed down some breakfast, barely tasting it, and brewed myself a strong cup of coffee that I had now emptied, cradling the thermos as I walked to our office and collapsed in my chair, tipping my head back, shutting my eyes for a while.

All around me were the slightly muffled sounds of phones ringing, the printers whirring and officers chatting and murmuring, a few laughs here and there amongst the otherwise professionally stoic faces. The door opened, and someone shuffled in, placing something on my desk. The smell of coffee drifted up, and I cracked my eyes open to find a fresh mug in front of me, Mills now at his desk, giving me a small smile.

“How is she?” he asked.

I sighed and sat up, reaching for the mug. “Not sure, really. I’ll hear whenever they know something. But she’s not in any danger, which is a relief.”

Mills nodded, his eyes looking over my unshaven face and shadowed eyes, and said nothing. We sat quietly for a little while, sipping at the coffee, and I glanced out the window, watching the city slowly churn to life.

“What did you get up to after I left?” I asked him after the silence felt too strange.

“Tracked down Mark Helman,” he told me, typing on his computer. “He was in the system. A drunk and disorderly from last year.”

“Last year?” I asked, looking over at him.

Mills nodded, looking back at the screen. “Would have been around the time the girls moved out, I think.”

I hummed thoughtfully, my mind slowly whirring to life, sharpening and clearing up.

“Got an address?”

Mills nodded again. “No change there. Just on the outskirts of the city, Murton way.”

“Shall we give him a few hours to wake up or catch him off guard?” I asked, spinning my chair slowly.

“I say we go now, sir,” Mills said, “before he has a chance to have a drink.”

I grunted my agreement and drank the rest of my coffee before standing up and pulling my coat back on. A chill was drawing in these days, and I didn’t like the look of the clouds over the city. They gathered in a dark, slow herd that made me hope I wasn’t outside when they finally roamed their way over.

Mills emptied his mug and picked up his car keys without a word, for which I was grateful, and we headed out from the station, avoiding seeing anyone with questions, and climbed into his car.

“The news made a report on Vinson this morning,” Mills told me, turning the radio down so we could talk.

I grimaced. “What did they say?”

“Just the basics and our request for any information.”

“Nothing about Stella? Or Billie?” I asked.

“No,” Mills assured me, “I think Sharp’s keeping a tight lid on all that until we can