her reporting colleagues. Cliff had obviously warned him what to expect, for his voice was quiet and coaxing. Lindsay forced the lid on her emotions and stumbled through the events of the evening. At the end of her recital, he asked for the number of the police station and the hospital. Her mind was a blank.
“Never mind,” he said. “Listen, I’ll make sure they put your by-line on this. It’s a helluva story. I hope your mate pulls through. But you go and get yourself a stiff drink. You sound as if you need one. Okay?”
“Yeah, okay,” she sighed, and put the phone down. Through the door of the booth, she could see other reporters arriving. She knew she couldn’t cope with them now, so she turned back to the call box and dialed home. Cordelia picked up the phone on the third ring. Lindsay’s voice shook as she said, “It’s me. Can you come down?”
“What?” Cordelia demanded. “Now? Whatever’s the matter? You sound terrible. What’s going on?”
“It’s Debs. She’s… she’s been attacked. Someone tried to kill her. I’m at the hospital now. I found her. I really could do with you being here.”
There was incredulity in Cordelia’s voice. “Someone tried to kill Deborah? How? What happened?”
“There was a candle-lit vigil. We were by the fence, about fifty yards from each other. Someone hit her on the head and left her drowning in a ditch,” Lindsay said, on the verge of tears.
“That’s awful! Are you okay?”
“Physically, yes. But I’m absolutely drained. I thought she was dead, Cordelia,” Lindsay wailed, tears finally coursing down her face. She sobbed helplessly, oblivious to Cordelia’s words.
When she managed to control herself again, she could hear her lover’s voice soothing her, saying, “Calm down it’ll be okay. Why don’t you come home now? There’s nothing more you can do there tonight. I’d come down and get you, but I’ve had too much wine.”
“I can’t,” Lindsay said numbly.
“Why ever not?” Cordelia asked. “Look, you’d be better off here. You can have a nice hot bath and a drink and try to get a decent night’s sleep. Come home, Lindsay. I’ll only worry about you otherwise.”
“I just can’t,” Lindsay replied. “There’s too much going on here for me to walk away from it all. I’m sorry. I’ll ring you in the morning, okay? Thanks for listening. Goodnight, love.”
“I’ll come down first thing, how’s that?”
“No, it’s okay, leave it. I’m not sure what I’ll be doing or where I’ll be. I’ll speak to you soon.”
“Be careful, Lindsay, please. Ring me in the morning.”
Bleakness descended on Lindsay. She stared across the busy casualty department in time to see Rigano shoulder his way through the flapping celluloid doors and head for the desk. He was immediately surrounded by reporters. She became aware that the phone was squawking.
“Lindsay? Are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here. Bye.”
She put the phone down, feeling utterly defeated. She left the phone booth but could not face the melee round the information desk. She leaned against the wall, shivering slightly in spite of the airless warmth of the hospital. Rigano, whose eyes had been sweeping the room for her, picked her up almost immediately.
“That’s it for now,” he said brusquely to the crowd of reporters and strode over to her, followed at a few paces by her colleagues. He took her by the elbow and piloted her into a corridor. He stopped briefly and said firmly to their followers. “Go away. Now. Or I’ll have the lot of you removed from the hospital altogether.” Reluctantly, they backed off, and he steered Lindsay into an alcove with a couple of chairs. They sat down.
“She’s going to be all right,” he said. “There’s a hairline fracture of the skull and a big superficial wound. She’s lost quite a bit of blood and had stitches, but they say there’s no brain damage.”
The relief was like a physical glow that spread through Lindsay. “When can I see her?” she asked.
“Tomorrow morning. Come round about nine, and they’ll let you in. She’ll still be heavily sedated, so they tell me, but she should be awake. It’ll be a while before we can get any sense out of her, though, so I need to know anything you can tell me about the attack.”
Lindsay shrugged. “I don’t know anything. I don’t even know what she was hit with. What was it?”
“A brick,” he replied. “There’s any number of them lying around. You use them to pin down the corners of your benders.”
“That’s ironic,” said Lindsay, stifling the hysterical giggle she felt bubbling inside her. “I really can’t tell you anything. I heard a short scream-not a long-drawn-out one, quite brief- and a squelch that must have been Debs falling into the ditch. Then I heard what sounded like someone trying to run off through the woodland.”
“Can you say in what direction?”
“Not really. It seemed to be more or less dead ahead of me as I ran towards the ditch, but that’s the vaguest of impressions, and I wouldn’t swear to it. I wish I could tell you that I’d seen someone, but even if he’d still been there, I doubt if I would have seen him. There was really no light to speak of.”
“Him?”
“Well, it wouldn’t have been one of us, would it?”
It was Jane who woke Lindsay at eight the next morning with a pot of hot coffee. Settling herself down on the end of the bunk, she waited patiently for Lindsay to surface. Brought back to the camp by one of Rigano’s men, Lindsay had needed several large whiskies before sleep had even seemed like a possibility. Now she was reaping the whirlwind.
Jane smiled at her efforts to shake off the stupor and said, “I thought I’d better make sure you were up in time to get to the hospital. I’ve already rung them-Deborah is out of danger and responding well, they said. Translation-she’s been sedated to sleep, but her vital signs are looking good. They say it’s okay for you to go in, but they don’t think Cara should visit yet.”
“How is Cara?” asked Lindsay, who felt as if her limbs were wooden and her head filled with cotton wool.
“A bit edgy, but she’s with Josy and the other kids, so she’ll be more or less all right,” Jane replied. “She wants her mummy, but at least she’s old enough to understand when you say that Deborah’s in the hospital, but she’s going to be all right.”
“Do you think we can keep her here and look after her okay, or are we going to have to get something else sorted out?” Lindsay asked anxiously.
Jane smiled. “Don’t worry about Cara. She’s used to the routine here now. It’s better that she’s somewhere she can see Deborah as much as possible.”
“I’m just worried in case social services find out about her and take her into care,” Lindsay said.
“If anyone comes looking for her from the council, we’ll deny all knowledge of her and say she’s with her father. By the time they sort that little one out, Deborah will be convalescent,” Jane reassured her. “Now, drink this coffee and get yourself over to the hospital.”
“Five minutes,” warned the nurse as she showed Lindsay into a small side room.
Deborah lay still, her head swathed in bandages. There was a tube in her nose and another in her arm. Her face was chalky white and dark bruises surrounded her closed eyelids. Lindsay was choked with a mixture of pity, love, and anger. As she moved towards the bed, she sensed another presence in the room and half turned. Behind the door, a uniformed constable sat, notebook poised. He smiled tentatively at her and said, “Morning, miss.”
Lindsay nodded at him and sat down by the bed. Reaching out cautiously, she took hold of Deborah’s hand. Her eyelids flickered momentarily, then opened. The pupils were so dilated that her eyes no longer appeared blue. Frowning slightly, as she tried to focus, she registered Lindsay’s presence and her face cleared.
“Lin,” she said in a voice that lacked all resonance. “It’s really you?”
“Yes, love, it’s me.”
“Cara?”
“She’s okay. Josy’s in charge. Everything’s under control.”
“Good. I’m so tired, Lin. I can’t think. What happened?”
“Somebody hit you. Did you see anyone, Debs?”
“I’m so glad it’s really you, Lin. I think I’m seeing ghosts. I think Rupert Crabtree’s haunting me.”
“I’m no ghost, Debs. And he can’t hurt you. He’s out of your life for good.”
“I know, but listen, Lin. It’s crazy, I know, but I have this weird impression that it was Rupert Crabtree who attacked me. I must be going mad.”
“You’re not mad, you’re just concussed and sedated up to the eyeballs. It’ll all be clear soon, I promise.”
“Yes, but I’m sure it was him that I saw. But it couldn’t be, could it? Just like it couldn’t have been him I saw
