‘Give me your number,’ he conceded. ‘I’ll call you when she’s awake.’
‘We were just going to grab something from the café,’ Rebus told him. ‘So if it’s in the next twenty minutes or so, we’ll still be here.’
‘We can bring you a sandwich, if you like,’ Clarke added, her face softening a little.
Traynor shook his head, but took her card when she offered it.
‘Mobile’s on the back,’ she said. ‘Oh, and one more thing — could we take a look at Jessica’s phone?’
‘What?’
‘I’m assuming it’ll be by her bedside somewhere. .’
Traynor was starting to look annoyed again, but turned and went into the room, emerging moments later with the device.
‘Thank you, sir,’ Clarke said, taking it from him and turning to lead Rebus back down the corridor.
Rebus headed outside for a cigarette while Clarke bought the drinks. When he returned, he brought a hacking cough with him.
‘Should I see if they’ve a spare bed in the emphysema ward?’ she asked.
‘I wasn’t lonely out there — hard to know if staff outnumbered patients or vice versa.’ He took a sip from the cardboard cup. ‘I’m going to guess tea.’
She nodded, and they drank in silence for a moment. The café opened on to the hospital’s central concourse. There was a shop across the way, people queuing for sweets and crisps. Further along, another concession specialising in health foods was doing no trade at all.
‘What do you make of him?’ Clarke asked.
‘Who? The David Dickinson lookalike?’
Clarke smiled. ‘Bit more George Clooney than that.’
Rebus shrugged. ‘He wears expensive suits and travels by private jet — I want to marry him, naturally.’
‘Join the queue.’ Her smile widened. ‘You have to say, though — he does love his daughter. Probably head of some big corporation, but drops everything to come north.’
Rebus nodded his agreement and managed another mouthful of tea before pushing the cup away.
‘What you said to him about road rage,’ Clarke went on, ‘was that off the top of your head?’
‘Just trying to think of reasons why a careful driver would be putting the foot down.’
‘It’s an idea. Reckon she lives in the city?’
‘Bound to — maybe even in a flat bought by Mr Pinstripe.’
‘So what was she doing out there in the first place? It’s more or less a road to nowhere.’
‘Something else for us to ask her,’ Rebus agreed. ‘What did her phone offer up?’
‘Unanswered calls and texts.’
‘No sign she was using it while driving?’
Clarke shook her head. ‘On the other hand, if her dad is as sharp as he dresses. .’
‘He might have decided to delete any evidence of her stupidity.’ Rebus nodded slowly.
Clarke’s own phone pinged, alerting her to a message. ‘It’s Page,’ she said, checking the screen. ‘Wants an update.’
‘That won’t take long.’
Another ping.
‘And with perfect timing, Jessica’s awake.’ Clarke started to rise from the table.
‘Taking your tea with you?’ Rebus asked.
‘What do you think?’ came the reply.
The same nurse was just leaving Jessica Traynor’s room as they arrived.
‘Go easy on her,’ she said in an undertone.
‘We’re famous for it,’ Rebus assured her.
The bed was still flat, the patient staring towards the ceiling. She moved her eyes, blinking a few times as she focused on the new arrivals. Her lips were moist, as though she’d just accepted some liquid from the beaker on the nearby tray. Her father was seated again, holding her hand as before.
‘Jessica,’ Clarke began, ‘I’m Detective Inspector Clarke and this is Detective Sergeant Rebus. How are you feeling, or is that a stupid question?’
‘Like I got hit by a car.’
‘I saw the state of your Golf. The airbag probably saved your life. Silly not to have your seat belt fastened.’
Traynor stiffened as he took this in. Jessica’s eyes widened. ‘I always do up my seat belt,’ she protested.
‘The motorist who found you, the one who called for the cavalry, says you weren’t strapped in.’
‘Couldn’t it have come undone on impact?’ Traynor asked.
‘I’ve not heard of that happening,’ Clarke told him. Then, to his daughter: ‘Any idea why one of your boots ended up on the passenger-side floor?’
‘I don’t understand.’ Jessica Traynor’s eyes flitted from one face to another.
‘There you are in the driver’s seat,’ Clarke obliged, ‘but one of your Uggs somehow lands the other side of the central console. Again, it’s something I’ve not come across before.’
Her father leaned in towards her. ‘The officers were asking me earlier if someone was maybe driving too fast behind you, causing you to do what you did.’
‘I don’t know what happened.’ Tears were filling Jessica Traynor’s eyes.
‘Was there some sort of race going on?’ Clarke asked. ‘Maybe you got in the way and they forced you off the road?’
‘No. .’
Traynor had risen from his chair. His daughter had her eyes screwed shut and he was asking her if she was in pain.
‘I don’t want to think about it,’ she told him. ‘I don’t want to remember any of it. The car went off the road, that’s all.’
With her hand still in his, Traynor turned towards the two detectives. ‘Probably best if you leave now. Give her some time to recover.’ His eyes told them he would brook no argument. But still Clarke lingered. It was Rebus, however, who spoke.
‘We just need Jessica’s address here in Edinburgh.’
‘Why?’ The question came from the bed. Jessica had balled her free hand into a fist. Her eyes were still closed but her face looked pained.
‘We just do,’ Clarke said.
Traynor gestured towards the corridor. ‘Jessica,’ he said, ‘just try and relax. I’m going to show the officers out.’
‘I still don’t understand why they’re here.’
‘They’re leaving right now.’ He gave her wrist a final squeeze, then let it go, extending an arm to indicate to Rebus that he should lead the way.
Once they were out in the corridor and the door was closed, he proffered the address. Clarke tapped it into her phone.
‘Speaking of which. .’ Traynor held out a hand, palm up. Clarke dug his daughter’s phone from her pocket and handed it over.
‘Does Jessica have flatmates?’ she asked.
‘Another student. Her name’s Alice or Alison — I only met her once.’
‘Does she know about Jessica?’
‘I’m guessing she’d be here if she did.’
Rebus had a question of his own. ‘Is Jessica seeing anyone?’
‘A boyfriend? There was someone called Forbes. She hasn’t mentioned him lately.’
‘Is Forbes a first name or a last?’
‘I’ve really no idea.’ Traynor’s eyes were trained on the window and the bed beyond. ‘I need to get back.’
‘If she confides anything. .’
