Play Dead (D.I. Kim Stone, #4)(33)

‘What are you doing?’ she asked. His blatant stare was as annoying as his delay in giving her an answer.

‘Oh, I’m wringing every second of enjoyment I can from your discomfort.’

‘Not childish at all though?’ she asked.

‘Probably,’ he said. ‘So if you just ask me nicely, I’ll give it some thought.’

She felt the heat burn in her cheeks. ‘Daniel, this is no longer funny.’

‘I disagree, and hearing my actual name from your lips is almost enough to persuade me to stay.’

‘Are you prepared to assist on this case or not? I need to call my—’

‘You can’t do it, can you? You can’t actually ask me to stay,’ he said, still amused.

She faced him squarely. ‘Daniel, I’m asking for your help but if you’d rather this bastard—’

‘One condition,’ he interrupted. ‘I’ll stay if you just do me one small favour.’

Kim frowned. She wasn’t agreeing to anything until she knew what it was.

‘Drop the Doc and the Doctor Bate and continue to call me Daniel.’

She considered for a moment then nodded. That, at least, she could do.

From behind she heard the truck door open and four paws landed on the gravel.

‘Come on, girl. It looks like we’re hanging around.’

Kim hid the satisfaction in her smile.





Twenty-Five





‘He’s like a dog with two dicks,’ Bryant said as they headed out of Westerley.

Kim knew her colleague was referring to Dawson, who was happy to remain at Westerley as the first point of contact for both the staff and the tech experts as they began to arrive.

During the Crestwood investigation eighteen months ago, Dawson had been stationed at site and had done an exceptional job. Kim didn’t believe in fixing things that were not broken.

Bryant drove and talked. She had already told him where she wanted to go.

‘So the doc is staying on then?’

‘Bloody hell, nothing gets past you, does it?’ she said.

‘You mean like the smile that you were trying to hide when you walked back in?’ he observed.

‘That’ll be because I won,’ she admitted.

‘Won what? I didn’t realise there was a prize on offer.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said.

‘You do know he likes you,’ Bryant stated.

‘And you do realise that this is not high school and there’ll be no need for you to pass notes between us.’

Bryant glanced her way.

‘And I’m sensing you like him just a little bit too.’

Kim ignored him. That wasn’t strictly accurate. To state that she liked him was a little exaggerated. She just disliked Daniel less than a lot of other people.

‘Bloody hell,’ she said as they entered Russell’s Hall hospital. The car park already looked fit to burst.

The super hospital was an amalgamation of three local hospitals that had either been closed down completely or their A&E departments removed. Unfortunately the parking had not been increased pro rata with the expansion.

Bryant spotted a space at the furthest point from the hospital and parked quickly.

‘Wait here – I won’t be long. Just want to see how she is.’

Bryant grumbled.

She ignored him and headed in through the maternity entrance, up the stairs and across to the Surgical High Dependency Unit. This ward, together with ITU, provided the critical-care element of the hospital. High dependency normally took emergency surgical patients and was staffed on a ratio of one staff to two patients. ITU provided care on a one-to-one basis.

She spoke at the intercom to gain entry.

As she pushed the door open she was again struck by the absence of chatter or daily noises. No televisions hummed quietly. There was no clink of the tea trolley doing its rounds. No conversations that travelled from bed to bed to fill the hours before visiting, no occasional moans of discomfort and pain.

None of that was present in this unit. This area was reserved for the sickest people in the building.

Kim held up her badge and smiled at the ward sister named Jo. She was late thirties with blonde hair that fell in a short but shiny bob around a plump face.

Jo took a good look at her identification and nodded.

‘A woman was admitted last night.’

‘Head injury?’ Jo asked, turning to face the whiteboard behind.

Kim nodded.

‘No identification, so for now she’s Jane.’

Many facilities had now adopted the American procedure of labelling unknown victims John or Jane.

‘She’s in bay two, bed three,’ Jo said.

‘Is she…?’

‘Conscious?’ Jo asked and shook her head. ‘She’s in an induced coma. Her brain has taken a battering.’ She leaned over the desk and looked up and down the corridor.

‘Doctor Singh is still on his rounds. I’ll ask him to come and have a word.’

Kim nodded her thanks and headed around to bay two.

Jane lay in the top-left corner closest to the window.

Kim suspected that the rich chestnut hair that had been matted and tangled with blood and dirt was now gone, leaving a bald, shaved head beneath the bandages.