By the time he returned to the hospital it was six o’clock, and his concern was growing by the minute. Sarah’s bedroom remained ordered and neat. No one had broken into the hospital. Flotsam would have barked. Nothing was out of place.
She must have gone out of her own free will.
She wouldn’t have walked south. He sensed that. When he’d left her, her emotions would have been in as great a turmoil as his. How could she have slept?
She wouldn’t. If he was Sarah…
She would have gone to the beach, he decided. She would have walked into the rising sun, north-east, where the dawn was a glowing fragile beauty.
He knew it. He knew it in his gut.
So was she out walking now? Still?
Surely not. She would have known that the searchers were leaving early and she’d said she’d go with them. She was here to do a job. No matter what turmoil her life had become, her job was still important to her. She cared about the people in the plane.
She wouldn’t have forgotten.
He paced. The little hospital slept. No one needed him.
He should stay. He should stay and wait.
But more and more his gut was telling him something was wrong. Who had taken that sheet? Where were they?
He was going nuts.
‘Claire…’ He walked through to the nurses’ station and found the charge nurse. ‘Claire, I’m going out for a bit.’
‘I thought you were supposed to stay within calling range.’ Claire put her head on one side and surveyed him with interest. ‘Are you heading towards the wreck, then?’
‘No,’ he said shortly. ‘I’m going for a walk. Along the beach. North.’
‘Taking Flotsam?’
‘No.’
Claire frowned. ‘Is that where you think Sarah might have gone?’
‘It might be,’ Alistair said shortly, and left before her bright interest could respond with questions he had no way of answering.
It took patience and courage to work with that gun quivering so close to her, but by the time Sarah had rebandaged Noa’s arm and forced her to drink and to eat the woman had stopped her fearful trembling. Azron started to stir, just a little, and on instinct Sarah lifted the tiny boy and carried him to his mother. It was tricky with the bags of fluid, but she managed.
Noa watched without saying a word.
Sarah stood before her and held out the child. ‘Hold him,’ she said.
‘I need to hold the gun.’
‘I’ll sit here,’ Sarah said. ‘You can hold the gun in your right hand-your uninjured hand-with Azron cradled on your knee. He needs your warmth. He needs you.’
Noa hesitated. The gun wavered. Sarah stood, holding the child, her eyes calm and steady.
The woman needed time, Sarah thought. She wouldn’t pressure her more than she already had. She’d eaten a little and she’d drunk a full bottle of water. If she could settle with her child in her arms, maybe she could gradually learn to trust.
Maybe.
And there was time. She wouldn’t rush. Azron’s need was still urgent, but he was being rehydrated. There were antibiotics running into his system. Establishing trust with his mother was the only way forward.
‘Hold him,’ she said again, and Azron opened his eyes-just a fraction-and whimpered.
It was too much. Noa gave a tiny choking sob and held out her arms.
Sarah could have moved then. She could have grabbed the gun. But there was a risk it might have gone off-a risk she wasn’t prepared to take.
Patience.
She lowered the child onto Noa’s knee, then backed against the cliff and sat. She carefully stayed within range. She carefully stayed where the gun could easily point at her without Noa straining.
‘What now?’ she asked.
‘We wait.’ Noa was clutching Azron and Sarah saw that her need for contact was almost overwhelming. She had no clue how to go forward. But now wasn’t the time to push her further.
‘Okay. I’m happy with that. Let’s wait a while until you see your way forward,’ she agreed. She sat and let the silence drag out.
Noa’s eyes flickered to Sarah, to the face of her son, to the cleft in the rock face through which a threat might come…
Her eyes were exhausted.
‘Tell me about yourself,’ Sarah said gently. ‘Tell me what happened to drive you from your country.’
‘No.’ Noa shook her head, fierce in denial. ‘No.’ Then she hesitated. ‘You…you tell me. Tell me about you. Are you married?’
‘No.’
‘So you have no children?’
‘No.’
‘It’s good to have children.’ The woman clutched Azron a little tighter, and then seemed to make a determined effort to concentrate on Sarah.
‘Why aren’t you married? Has no man asked you?’
‘One man did,’ Sarah said softly. ‘A long time ago. And at first I said yes. But then I turned him down.’
Noa’s eyes caught hers. And held. Woman to woman.
This was the first trace of something away from her nightmare, Sarah thought. A tiny vestige of normality. One woman talking relationships with another.
‘You turned him down?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s a long story.’
‘Tell me,’ Noa whispered. ‘While we wait for my son to get well…you tell me.’
Which one?
There were so many caves around here. The sand had obliterated the barrow marks. It had to be easy walking distance, though. She couldn’t have got far.
Barry moved from cleft to cleft, his gun at the ready, staying in shadows.
Where…?
‘Bastards,’ he whispered. ‘They’ve ruined my career. Bastards…’
His finger tightened on the trigger.
Where?
Half a mile out of town Alistair found Barry. Or he saw him. He glimpsed him in the distance at first. Alistair walked on, but instinctively moved closer to the cliffs, staying out of sight.
What on earth was Barry doing here? He was in full uniform, climbing along the cliff face.
Gun raised.
Alistair melted backwards. Maybe he should call out. Should he? This was Barry, after all. He was a police officer.
But…he was a suspended police officer. Alistair had watched Barry’s face yesterday as they’d carried Amal away and he’d worried. Barry had looked at the wounded man and the expression on his face had been almost one of satisfaction. That look had disturbed him, and he’d passed on his concern to Larry. The man needed full
