Carol stuffed her clothes at the back of the bottom shelf and followed Elinor. Heads together in muttered consultation, they made it out into the main corridor and to the Ward 14 entrance. Carol tugged the mask over her nose and mouth. The nurse on station barely glanced at Carol. ‘Back again, Dr Blessing?’
‘Last check for tonight,’ Elinor said.
They headed down the hall. The prison officer paid more attention than the nurse had. ‘Another visit, Doc? I wish I got as much attention from you ladies as he does.’
Elinor chuckled. Hand on the door. ‘Don’t wish too hard for what you want, officer. Next time it might be you lying in there. I just need to check his vitals and my colleague here has to make sure the tube’s clear.’ She pushed the door open and they slipped inside.
In the dim light, Tony looked like a statue on a tomb. Carol took a moment to collect herself then approached the bed. A bandage circled his head, a thin plastic tube snaking out from under it and into a plastic bag held on a drip stand. The bag was empty, the tube almost completely clean apart from a single thread of blood about an inch long. She stared down at the face she loved, its familiar planes and curves more still than she’d ever seen him. His was a mobile face, constantly changing in response to what he saw and heard and felt. Even in repose, the sharp intelligence in his eyes was discernible. But now there was nothing. Just the marks of injury. His chest barely moved with his shallow breaths. Carol stretched out a hand and touched the arm that was cuffed to the bed, the warmth of his skin a reassurance.
She glanced at Elinor. ‘Is he really all right? He looks . . . he looks absent.’
‘He’s sedated, Carol. If he’s stable tomorrow, they’ll let him come round. If he was in danger, he’d be on the High Dependency ward. I know this seems like a catastrophe to you, but honestly, to these guys, this is a routine case.’
Carol felt tears pricking her eyes. ‘Will you get me back in to see him after he’s conscious? I need to speak to him, Elinor.’
She saw the sympathy in her friend’s eyes. ‘Of course. But I think we should go now, before the guard starts wondering what’s taking so long.’
Carol bent impulsively and kissed Tony’s cheek. ‘I’ll be back,’ she said. ‘Sleep well.’ Then she followed Elinor from the room and back into a world of sound and movement, knowing she would not be happy till Tony was back there too.
But for now, at least she had something to distract herself with.
57
The art of diverting an interview is one that psychopaths excel in.
From Reading Crimes by DR TONY HILL
The nun’s words hit Paula like a shock of static electricity. Then she caught sight of the faint smirk of satisfaction Sister Mary Patrick hadn’t quite managed to hide. ‘And what one would that have been?’ Paula demanded, a low threat edging into her voice.
‘I am not a good sleeper,’ she said. Bad conscience, Paula thought. ‘I often wake up in the night and struggle to get back to sleep. And so I get up and spend some time in prayer. Or I read devotional literature. There was a little attic room at Bradesden that we used as a kind of library and I would often go there in the night when sleep had failed me. It has a single window which overlooks Jerome’s vegetable garden.’ She paused, considering how to proceed.
‘And you saw something?’
She nodded. ‘Usually, I paid no attention to the view, because there was no view to speak of. It was too dark to see anything. But on one night in particular, there was a clear sky and a full moon and the garden was lit up like a Paul Delvaux painting. And then movement caught my eye. At first, I couldn’t really make out what was going on so I turned out my reading light. When my eyes grew accustomed to the dark, I could see it was Jerome and another man carrying a bundle across the garden to one of the raised beds. They were made out of old railway sleepers, so they were quite sturdy.’
Paula realised she was holding her breath and forced herself to breathe naturally. ‘Go on,’ she said.
‘They lifted the bundle over the lip of the raised bed. It looked quite heavy. There was a spade on the ground and Jerome climbed up on to the edge of the bed with it. He shovelled soil for a short time. I presumed he was covering whatever they’d put in there. Then they walked back towards Jerome’s cottage.’ Sister Mary Patrick started working the fingers of one hand over the amber beads of her rosary. She seemed to think she’d reached the conclusion of what she had to say.
‘Did you get a good view of the other man?’ Paula asked.
‘I did. Even though it was some distance away, the moonlight was bright enough to see clearly. I knew Jerome as soon as I saw him.’
Now for the crucial question. ‘And did you recognise the other man?’
Sister Mary Patrick fixed her with a level gaze. She knows how to work the room. She must have run the convent like her personal empire. No wonder none of the sisters was giving her up. ‘I would not say this if I were not certain,’ she said at length. ‘To bear false witness is, as you doubtless know, against the Eighth Commandment. In our church, we regard those as moral imperatives. The man with Jerome that night was his cousin. Mark Conway.’
Paula did not let her face betray her excitement. ‘And you’re absolutely certain of this?’
‘Oh yes. It wasn’t simply that I recognised his face, although that is the case. But that was confirmed by what he was wearing.’ She
