Blood Loss by Kerena Swan (brene brown rising strong .txt) 📗

then tip-toe out again and return to my room to put my costume on. I can’t resist twirling in the mirror.

‘Wow! Don’t you look fantastic? Turn around, let’s see the back.’ Grace’s enthusiasm lifts my spirits and I beam at her.

‘Your hair is amazing. So clever.’

‘Thanks for stepping in today, Grace, and getting here so quickly.’

‘No worries. Lucy sounded rough, poor girl. What time does the race start?’

‘In an hour. I’m leaving now to pick Nisha up. I’ll be back by one.’

The roads approaching Willen Lake are heaving and the car park is almost full. I squint as bright sunshine flashes off wing mirrors and windows. I should have brought my sunglasses. A constant stream of taxis and cars disgorges people in bright and ludicrous costumes, adding to the carnival atmosphere. I’m already warm and I feel a pang of sympathy for the giant gorilla and furry rabbit. Through my open window I hear music playing in the distance and I feel a rush of excitement.

‘Perhaps we should have dressed like that to raise awareness of animal rights,’ Nisha suggests, pointing to the gorilla.

‘Sod off! I’m going to struggle as it is.’

I manoeuvre my little car into a tight space at the far end of the car park and we join the throng of people emerging from the redway footpath network, hurrying towards the entrance. The path is full and the cars and taxis pass within inches of the crowd as they drop people off. A local celebrity on the tannoy system tells people to gather for the warm-up. Runners in tutus, wigs and charity T-shirts pick up pace as the crowds around them surge forward. There must be thousands of people here.

I’m admiring the array of outfits on the other side of the car park when someone bashes into me, knocking me sideways. My hands clutch at empty air. I can’t stop myself from falling – straight into the path of an approaching car. Shit! I hear it brake but it’s much too close and, I brace myself for the impact. The car skids. Nisha hauls on my arm and pulls me back and instead of hitting me full-on, the taxi connects only with my thigh. It’s still a thump, though, and it sends me spinning around then falling to the ground. I lie there looking at the sky, dazed and disorientated. My leg feels deadened but not for long. The pain hits me and I groan.

Nisha’s worried face hovers over mine and blocks out the sky. ‘Jenna. Are you okay?’

The taxi has stopped and the driver jumps out and runs around the car, wide eyed and mouth open. ‘I couldn’t avoid you,’ he says.

I sit up, wincing, in too much pain to answer him.

‘Do you need an ambulance?’ Nisha asks.

I take a deep breath. ‘I’ll be okay,’ I say, thinking of the colourful bruise I’ll have tomorrow.

‘Can you stand?’

I get unsteadily to my feet and lean heavily on Nisha’s arm, noticing for the first time the crowd of people who are watching me. I’ve broken some shells during my fall and the pieces crunch under my trainers. I walk a few cautious steps and the crowd around me claps and cheers, bolstering my resolve to carry on.

‘Want a fireman’s lift?’ one man asks.

‘Yeah, we’ll carry you around the course,’ another offers kindly.

I limp forward. ‘I think I’ll manage,’ I say, determined to complete the course myself even at a walking pace. I turn back to the taxi man. ‘Thanks for stopping but I’ll be all right. It wasn’t your fault. Accidents happen.’

‘The runner in the giant pink rabbit suit should be disqualified for shoving you like that.’

’Shoving me? Surely it was just—’

‘Put out his arms and pushed you out of his way, he did. Or she did. Hard to tell in that furry suit. Wanted to get to the front, I suppose, but it wasn’t sporting. Downright irresponsible, if you ask me.’

I glance around. No pink rabbit in sight. ‘Luckily, I’m fine,’ I assure the taxi man, and, with a nod, he gets back in the cab.

I think about the fall. I’d been shoved hard. No doubt about that. In normal circumstances I’d assume the taxi man was blaming the rabbit as a way of deflecting blame from himself for driving too fast and too close for the conditions. But I remember the orange carrier bag spooking Merlin that day in the woods. I could have been seriously hurt then and I could have been seriously hurt today. Coincidence? Or something more…

Chapter 37

The Previous March | DI Paton

‘It’s okay. Take your time.’ The Facial Imaging Officer was calm and patient as he built the E-Fit image of Robert Nash’s possible killer.

The waitress sighed and puffed out her cheeks, frowning at the screen. She’d identified the age, gender and hair colour of the woman who met Robert Nash but now she was struggling to get the shape of the face right.

‘She was slimmer than that and she had a sharper chin. That one!’ She pointed to an image.

Paton watched with interest as features were selected and at a click of the mouse the full face was displayed. It took several attempts to get the eyes right and many minor adjustments overall but finally the waitress agreed it was a reasonable likeness. Paton thanked her for giving up her time and drove her back to the café then looked up and down the street, trying to put himself in the shoes of his quarry. Where would she go? Which shops would she use?

Clutching the laminated computer-generated portrait like a talisman, he entered the dry cleaners and showed it to the attendant. She shook her head. Next he tried the newsagents.

‘She came in a few times for a Homes and Gardens magazine. Buying a daydream, probably. I haven’t seen her lately though.’

‘Do you know her name and where she lives?’

‘No idea. Sorry.’ The man turned away to serve another customer.

Paton tried several more shops in adjoining