The Infirmary (DCI Ryan Mysteries prequel)(20)

“Not unless you count the one who claims to have killed Cooper from his cell in HMP Frankland through the power of the mind alone.”

“Mind over matter,” Ryan huffed out a laugh. “I’ve got another task for you, if you can manage it.”

“’Course. What d’ you need?”

“I need you to do a thorough background check on William Andrew Cooper, aged twenty-four, DOB first of March 1990.”

He waited for the penny to drop, which it did. And quickly.

“Will Cooper?” Lowerson said, in a ridiculous stage whisper. “You don’t think her own son could have done it?”

To a man like Lowerson, the very thought was abhorrent. He was devoted to his mother and never missed one of their regular Wednesday night dinners if he could possibly help it.

“Matricide is pretty common, Jack, and we know next to nothing about Sharon’s relationship with her son. We only know what she chose to tell us; the rose-tinted version she was willing to share. That could’ve been all wrong, especially after meeting him today.”

“You didn’t like him?”

“Let’s just say he didn’t make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”

“Yeah, but even if he wasn’t close to his mum, how could he have known how Isobel Harris—”

Lowerson broke off as the penny dropped again.

“How Isobel Harris died?” Ryan finished for him. “Intimate details weren’t reported but Sharon wouldn’t be the first police officer to break the rules and share details of an investigation with her nearest and dearest,” he said. “Added to which, he’s a dental student. It’s enough for him to have a decent knowledge of anatomy and rudimentary skill with the scalpel.”

There was a short silence while Lowerson fiddled with a chewed biro.

“I’ll get onto it straight away.”

“You do that. And Jack? Keep it under your hat for now.”





CHAPTER 9


“Nicola?”

“Dad?”

“Wake up, Nicola.”

“Don’t want to. Can’t.”

“Come on, sleepy-head. Time to get up.”

“I’m scared to, Daddy.”

Soft laughter and the touch of his hand caressing her face.

Except his fingers felt strange and rubbery. Not like the hand she remembered clutching when he’d slipped away, two years ago.

Her eyelids were so heavy, it was an effort to open them and, when she managed it, her first thought was that heaven looked just like her bedroom. Death was no different to life and there were no archangels, no guardians to protect her passage to the other side.

“Well, hello, sweetheart. I was worried for a minute you weren’t going to come around.”

Her body began to tremble violently at the sound of his voice and her heart stuttered against her chest in sheer animal panic.

At her bedside, he drank it in, savouring the power like an addict, tipping his head back in ecstasy.

“See?” he said thickly. “I’ll bet you never thought you’d see me again, did you? You surprised both of us, darling.”

He adjusted the makeshift drip at her bedside, surveyed the wounds inflicted the previous day, and then perched on the edge of a chair. He was covered in a plastic boiler suit and didn’t worry about leaving any part of himself behind.

Nicola heard him rustling somewhere nearby and her fingers clutched at the bedclothes, trying to find purchase. Pain was beginning to bloom all over her body, from the innumerable slashing cuts he’d inflicted the day before. They traced the route he would later take to remove her limbs and torso but, for now, they were a road map of shallow red lines that stung whenever she moved.

“Now, I don’t want you to worry about infection,” he was saying. “I’ve taken the liberty of administering a little cocktail that will keep you fighting fit for as long as I need you. The fact is, Nicola, I have another woman in mind, but I’ll have to wait a few days.”

He sighed, affecting an air of regret.

“Now, don’t be jealous. We’ve had a wonderful time together, but I’ve never been a one-woman kind of guy.”

Quick as a flash, he leaned forward—so close she could feel his breath against her skin, could see his pupils dilate at the prospect of ending her then and there.

“Women love a bad boy, don’t they?” he growled. “Want me to show you how bad I can be, Nicola?”

Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and her bowels loosened.

“Tut, tut,” he said. “Do you expect me to clean that up? There’s very little point in changing the bed linen, considering you won’t be with us very much longer.”

“Please,” she gasped, feeling her throat burn with the effort. “Please don’t—”

She fell into a coughing fit and he watched impassively, settling back against the chair and crossing his legs to make himself comfortable.

“I know what you’re thinking and what you’re feeling, Nicola. You’re wondering, ‘why me?’ and, ‘what did I do to deserve this?’ ”

Her chest rose and fell as she tried to regulate her breathing.

“Well, I’ll tell you, Nicola,” he said, conversationally. “You didn’t do a thing except exist. You’re just unlucky. In a parallel world, you’d have gone on to live a long and healthy life, probably marry a doctor and have a couple of kids.” He heaved a self-effacing sigh. “Unfortunately, I’d much rather see what your insides look like and I’m unable to do that without killing you in the process. It’s a pity but I’ve always been a selfish creature, really. That’s what the agony aunts say, isn’t it? You can’t change a man; he can only change himself. How right they are.”