The Infirmary (DCI Ryan Mysteries prequel)(85)

“Take me, instead.”

“Oh, I will.”

Edwards gave Natalie a couple of sharp slaps. Her head rolled back as she struggled to the surface, and he drew out a long, surgical knife.

“No!”

Ryan clawed his way across the carpet, willing his body to move. Edwards watched him as if he were a strange oddity.

“Save your energy,” he said. “You may need it.”

“My team are on their way!” Ryan shouted, wondering where the hell they could be. It had been a long time since he’d called through to the Control Room.

Edwards smiled again.

“I took the liberty of calling again to explain there’d been a false alarm. We sound very alike, you and I, and you’d given your passcode in such a helpful way, earlier.”

Ryan felt the last of his hopes dwindle to nothing.

Natalie’s eyelids swept upwards. Confusion and terror played across her face and she looked away, meeting Ryan’s desperate eyes across the room.

He read the acceptance, the dreadful knowledge of what was to come.

“No!” He dragged himself forward again, like a dead weight.

“Say ‘goodbye’,” Edwards said.

A scream broke free as Ryan watched him take a handful of Natalie’s hair and tug it back, exposing the slim column of her throat. Adrenaline surged through his body, finally propelling him upwards. He stumbled across the floor, arms outstretched to prevent the fall of Edwards’ knife.

But he was too late.

The blade swept a long graceful line across her neck and a river of blood gushed forth, fanning a warm arc over Ryan’s upturned face.

He watched her body fall to the ground, as if in slow motion. He felt her fingertips brush his own and he tried to grasp them, to hold her close. But in his heart, he knew he was too late. Wild anger surged through his veins and he rounded on her killer, acting on instinct alone. He caught the look of surprise on Edwards’ face before his hands clamped around the man’s throat. He never knew where he found the strength, but he saw Edwards’ eyes bulging in his head, felt the rush of his blood straining through his arteries as he gasped for air. Ryan realised he was crying, tears coursing down his face as he did what he had sworn never to do.

To take another life.

His arms were shaking by now, but he felt nothing; only a hollow emptiness where his heart had once been. He felt Edwards’ hands scratching his face, trying to claw his way free, and he knew that the end was close.

Dimly, he heard somebody burst through the door behind him. He thought he heard Philips shout to him.

“No! No, lad!”

The mist faded and his hands loosened on the man’s throat. He fell back, shivering and sobbing while the police rushed forward to where Edwards lay in the foetal position, dragging air into his burning lungs. Ryan was shaking so hard, his teeth chattered. His body was reacting badly to the cocktail of drugs and adrenaline, but he forced himself to crawl across to where his sister lay in a heap on the floor.

“Natalie,” he whispered, brokenly.

He kneeled beside her, cradling her head gently in his lap, smoothing back the hair from her forehead. He began to rock back and forth.

Philips watched him with a heavy heart, and shooed away the medics who would have interrupted Ryan’s final moments with his sister.

“Give him a minute,” he murmured.

Eventually, he laid a gentle hand on Ryan’s shoulder.

“It’s time to go,” he said gently.

“I’m not leaving her,” Ryan said, and continued to rock.

“You can go with her. We’ll make sure she’s well looked after.”

“It’s my fault, Frank. She was here because of me and she died because of me.”

“No—” Phillips began, but Ryan wasn’t listening.

He watched them drag Edwards to his feet, restraining his hands as he continued to fight. For a moment, their eyes locked and a single message of mutual hatred was exchanged before he was led away.





EPILOGUE


There were candid photos of Ryan that morning as they’d transported him by stretcher to the hospital, but even the worst rags refused to buy them. Instead, they printed Edwards’ face next to those of his five known victims and paired it with the headline:



HACKER TAKES FINAL VICTIM



Phillips had ordered a complete media ban in the hospital room where Ryan lay, having been transported from the emergency ward onto the psychiatric ward for observation. He had not uttered more than a handful of words since he’d arrived, not since his parents had visited him and been turned away.

“Your mum and dad are here again,” Phillips told him, from the single armchair in Ryan’s private room. “They want to see you.”

Ryan shook his head.

“Your mum—she’s in a bad way, lad. She needs to see you.”

Ryan turned on him with such a look of despair, it brought a lump to Phillips’ throat.

“I can’t stand to see her, to see the look in her eyes. It was my fault,” Ryan said again. “She’ll never be able to think of me in the same way again.”

“You’re wrong,” his mother said, from the doorway. “You’re very wrong.”

Eve Finlay-Ryan stepped inside the room, her cheeks hollowed and her eyes shadowed by grief. Ryan’s father was beside her, an older version of himself with a shock of white-grey hair and eyes that were pools of incredible sadness.