Gardners, Ditchers, and Gravemakers (A DCI Thatcher Yorkshire Crimes Book 4) by Oliver Davies (best black authors txt) 📗

make out a pulse, swearing and muttering under my breath. My fingers found the right place, and I felt the steady, if faint, thrumming of Dunnes’s heartbeat. I let out a huge sigh of relief and turned to Mills, who was already on the phone, rattling off where we were. He put the phone down and joined me by Dunnes’s side.

“Ambulance is on the way,” he told me. “Said if there’s any sign as to what in his system, we should find it.”

I grunted in acknowledgement, and as Mills set about searching Kask’s workspace, I tilted Dunnes’s head to one side. No sign of a puncture wound, I noted. That must be a good thing. I looked at him closely, taking in his face, the red marks around his mouth, starting to bruise slightly on his cheek.

“Look for a rag,” I told Mills, having seen similar marks on enough victims to know when somebody had had something held to their face. I thought about getting Dunnes out into the fresh air, but I didn’t want to move him until the paramedics came, and I also wanted to know where the hell Kask was.

The ambulance soon arrived, and I was glad to hand Dunnes over to them, the sirens vanishing into the hills where Dr Olsen could find and help him. Mills was on the phone again, arranging for somebody to come and secure the scene so that we could begin our search for Kask. There was no sign of him in the gardens or the house. The doors into the building were all locked, lights all switched off. We went over to the garage, where I balanced on top of a wheelbarrow to peek through the window. No car in there, Kask had definitely gone somewhere else, and I had a pretty good suspicion as to where he might have gone.

I reached for my phone so fast that I almost dropped it and rang the officer currently standing watch at the hospital, grateful for the speed with which he answered the phone.

“It’s DCI Thatcher,” I told him. “We have reason to believe that our suspect will be coming to the hospital to attempt another attack on Abbie Whelan.” My voice was snappier than usual, leaving no room for interruption or argument. “This man is dangerous,” I added. “PC Dunnes has been attacked, and we believe him to be carrying a means to incapacitate you.”

“I’ll let the hospital security know,” he answered, “and make sure the photograph is circulated.”

“Good man. Stay right where you are. Nobody comes in or out of that room until we get there.”

“Yes, sir,” he answered concisely. Apart from her doctor, I thought about adding, but that was a given, and we knew the doctor well enough at this stage.

“Has there been anything strange today?” I asked, walking back up the garden path, grateful to be leaving the heady scents of sweet, cloying flowers. It must be like this all the time for Mills. “Any faces you haven’t seen before? Anyone visitors trying to see her or wandering the hallway?” It was a long shot, that Kask would just dawdle around the corridors waiting for the chance to sneak in, but I wouldn’t put it past him, not after seeing what he did to Dunnes.

“No, sir. But I’ll stay alert for anything out of the usual and notify you straight away.” There were some muffled voices behind him, and after a moment’s pause, he said. “Inspector Thatcher, I have Paige Whelan with me. She’s asking to speak to you.”

“Put her on,” I demanded as Mills, and I strode up through the gate, back to his car.

“Inspector?” Her voice came through a second later.

“Paige. Everything alright?” It was a stupid question. Someone was trying to murder her sister. Nothing was alright.

“I showed Grace the picture of the man you sent me,” she told me, her voice hurried. “Asked her if he was the man she saw with Abbie. She said yes.”

“Is Grace there with you now?” I asked.

“She is.”

“I need you to leave the hospital, Paige. It might be safe for either of you right now.”

I looked over to the driveway as a local team rolled in to stay on scene until Smith and the others got out here. Mills jogged over to them, and I waved from where I stood.

“I can’t just leave Abbie here,” Paige protested.

“I understand,” I assured her. “You want to stay and protect your sister, but for Grace’s sake, Paige, I need you to get somewhere safe, alright? Head to another ward, sit in the restaurant or the car. We’ve got some more officers en route, and Sergeant Mills and I will be there soon.”

“Fine,” she relented. “But if my sister gets hurt again, Inspector, it’s you I’m killing.”

“Fair enough,” I answered. She grumbled and passed the phone back to the constable. “We won’t be long,” I told him, hanging up a second later. I trusted Paige to get Grace somewhere safe, and with all the officers that would be floating around the hospital, I only hoped that Kask wasn’t stupid or desperate enough to try anything. At least, not until we got there.

Mills ran back over to me, and we jumped in the car.

“Smith’s ETA is fifteen minutes,” he said after glancing quickly at his phone, tossing it to one side and snapping his seatbelt into place, firing the engine up and peeling away from the house.

“Good. I spoke to Paige,” I told him. “She said that Grace recognised him as the man who spoke to Abbie.”

“So, he’s got even more of a reason to see her off,” Mills muttered. I nodded, wondering what Kask would have gone to her about. Did he want to get back into the research? Did he want to do something about the events of eight ago and Jordan Picard? Abbie must have refused it, whatever it was, sent him packing. Maybe Sonia had too. This couldn’t only be about the research. If it was, why kill