Gone in the Night. Mary-Jane Riley

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СКАЧАТЬ dragged deeply on the cigarette she held between two fingers.

      Alex smiled. ‘Yes. Thanks for seeing me.’

      ‘You’d better come in out of the rain.’

      The flat was clean and tidy with an overlying smell of smoke, but there were touches of colour and flamboyance in the shape of velvet cushions and rainbow throws. Dramatic photographs of landscapes were on the magnolia walls. Alex stared at them. They made her feel as though she was there, standing in that landscape.

      ‘Good, aren’t they?’ said Cora, nodding at the photos and handing Alex a mug of coffee. As her sleeve slipped back, Alex saw three swallows inked on the inside of her wrist.

      ‘Fabulous. Where are they from?’

      ‘They’re my brother’s work,’ she said, and Alex saw a darkness creep into her eyes. ‘Please, sit down and tell me why you’re here.’ She held herself slightly aloof.

      Alex curled her hands around the mug, warming up. A washing machine whirred in the background. Cora obviously wasn’t one for small talk. ‘Last night I came across a car accident,’ she began, searching for the right words. ‘A man had been thrown out of a Land Rover. He was badly hurt.’

      Cora was still. ‘I don’t see what that has got to do with me.’

      ‘He gave me a piece of paper. It had your name and telephone number on it. Could he be a relative? A friend?’

      Cora didn’t move. ‘What did he look like?’

      Alex knew that question would be coming, but it didn’t make it any easier. ‘Cora, it was difficult to see. It was dark, he was covered in blood. There was one thing though—’

      ‘Yes?’

      Alex had thought about this. She had remembered feeling something strange as the man had thrust the piece of paper into her hand. ‘I think he only had three fingers and a thumb, or at least, there was something strange about his hand.’

      Cora gave an intake of breath and stood up abruptly. She went over to the bookshelf. ‘Is this the man you saw?’

      Alex took the photo frame from her. It was a picture of a young man in battle fatigues, smiling, looking fit and happy. From the looks of it, the photo had been taken in a desert army camp of some sort. Afghanistan, perhaps? She looked more closely. The thick black hair, the shape of the face. As she’d had when she’d seen him on the road, she felt a flicker of recognition. ‘I think it could be,’ she said. ‘He didn’t have any hair as such though – it was only stubble.’ Then she nodded. ‘I’m almost sure.’

      Cora exhaled. ‘That’s my brother, Rick. He’s missing most of the little finger on his left hand. I’ve been looking for him. I haven’t seen him for two weeks. He had long hair and a beard last time I saw him.’

      Alex shook her head. ‘No beard. No hair. Stubble on top. But I think it could have been him.’

      Cora stood, stubbing out her cigarette. ‘Where is he? Which hospital did you take him to?’ Her eyes were feverish, she looked as though she was ready to break out into a sprint. ‘I’ll get my coat.’

      Alex put out her hand to stay her. ‘That’s the thing, I didn’t take him to hospital.’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      Alex tried to avoid Cora’s glare. ‘My phone had run out of battery, so I couldn’t call anyone. I was about to go for help when two men turned up. They said they would take him, make sure he was seen—’

      ‘So, which hospital?’ Cora rubbed her face, as if trying to keep herself alert.

      ‘I’m so sorry.’ Alex’s heart twisted, she could understand Cora’s desperation. And she felt so stupid – how could she have let it happen? ‘I don’t know. They didn’t say where they were taking him. I’ve rung hospitals all around the area, but without any luck. Could he have gone home?’

      ‘Home?’ The laugh Cora gave was harsh. ‘That’s just it, He doesn’t have a home.’

      Alex was puzzled. Then, with a sudden insight, she got it. And she remembered where she had seen the man before. ‘He’s homeless, isn’t he? I’ve seen him around Norwich.’

      ‘Yes.’ That single word held years of pain. ‘But all this talking isn’t getting us anywhere near finding him. I’ll try the hospitals again. I’m a nurse, I know the way it works. Sometimes you might get hold of the wrong people or something. Did you try the James Paget at Gorleston? You probably forgot that one.’ Alex saw her hands shaking as she began to punch in numbers on her phone.

      ‘Cora—’

      She looked at Alex, eyes blazing. ‘Let me do this. I need to know.’

      Alex looked on helplessly. She knew she had done her best to find the man – Rick. She had spoken to every hospital press officer, even the chief exec of Ipswich who she was on friendly terms with. But Cora had to see for herself.

CHAPTER EIGHT

       DAY TWO: MORNING

      Detective Inspector Sam Slater jogged and splashed down the muddy path through the trees to the pedestrian crossing over the railway line. It was a miserable day, with lowering clouds and gusts of rain. A miserable day to kill yourself.

      He reached the track, and, as he opened the gate festooned with warning notices and one giving out the number for the Samaritans, he saw that the train had come to a standstill about a hundred metres down the track. It was travelling towards Ipswich, probably carrying people to work in the town, or further afield to London. The air ambulance was preparing to land and Sam knew forensics would be along soon to gather up what was left of the body. He could imagine the scene on the train: commuters on their mobile phones cancelling meetings, phoning bosses to explain why they would be late. Because they would be late. Some would be complaining, demanding their Delay Repay forms and muttering about compensation. Few would spare much of a thought for the driver who had probably heard the dull thwack against the bottom of the train, a hollow crunch as metal hit flesh. He would probably hear that sound for the rest of his life and know that he had been the unwilling instrument in someone’s death.

      Engineers in hi-vis tabards and safety helmets had turned up to check the train for damage before it would be allowed to move on.

      Slater walked down the track and past the train.

      She had been lying on the rails before she was hit, thought Slater. She had been decapitated, he could see that, and various limbs were strewn along the track, along with shreds of material. There were long streaks of blood along the line and on the clinker under the track. If he looked carefully near his feet, and he tried not to, he could see white bits of bone and grey brain matter. He wondered how much forensics would actually retrieve before the rain washed it all away. Not that it mattered. Railway suicides were cut and dried.

      Police Constable Edwards was taping off the access onto the track, and Slater thought of the angry people waiting on platforms СКАЧАТЬ