“He hasn’t let a doctor examine him, and Conall and Daniel are backing him up. Conall took a few photographs for evidence, and Shay agreed to supply blood and urine samples, but nothing else. They just want to get the hell out of here and get their boy home. The three of them have just been seething away in there for the last twenty minutes since the samples were taken.” Anderson thought he could understand that. Shay didn’t like the scrutiny of strangers at the best of times. The idea of allowing anyone but his family near him in his current condition must be almost intolerable.
“Thanks for the warning, James,” Anderson said, “I’ll see if they’re prepared to tell me anything, unofficially, but I don’t see any reason to keep them here once I’ve spoken to them. After what Shay’s just done for us all, it’s the least we can do in return.”
“That it is.” McKinnon agreed fervently, “He’s a strange one alright, and far too fearless for his own good, but God love him for it.” The two men eyed each other knowingly. They both knew that this wasn’t the first time that Shay had decided to use himself as bait.
Shay and Daniel were sitting together when Anderson walked into their treatment room. Daniel’s right arm was curled protectively along the back of his nephew’s chair, and the younger man was doing his blank, robotic thing, safely shielded by a large pair of the dark glasses he favoured so much. Daniel must have brought a set of clean clothes from the house for him because Shay was fully dressed now, only his outdoor gear left to don. His uncle glared at Anderson with a look that said ‘Finally!’ as clearly as uttering the word aloud would have done.
Conall was leaning against the wall on Shay’s right with his arms crossed. He, too, met Anderson’s eyes coldly.
“Glad you could make it, Sir,” he said, in a way that made it abundantly clear that he was also incensed by the delay. Maybe it had been a mistake, asking McKinnon to keep them all here until he could speak with them, but Anderson didn’t think so. He needed to add his personal assessment of Shay’s condition to his report to ensure that no unwelcome questions or doubts were raised. Conall must have realised as much himself, or the Keanes would simply have left by now.
“I came as soon as I could.” Anderson wasn’t about to make the mistake of wasting time explaining himself. He focused his attention on the younger Keane. They’d cleaned him up nicely, but Shay didn’t seem to have his usual, effortless control of himself. Little muscle tremors here and there betrayed that much and an occasional series of rapid little taps as his knee jerked spasmodically, and his heel struck the floor was clearly audible. “James was just telling me that you wish to be discharged, Mr Keane. If you’re quite sure that you don’t require any medical assistance, I’d very much like to let you all go home as quickly as possible.”
A slight, acknowledging chin lift there but no verbal response.
“So what’s the hold-up?” Daniel asked impatiently. “Because as far as I can see, Chief Superintendent, unless you’re planning to charge my boys with anything, you have no right to stop us from just walking out of that door.”
“There is absolutely no question of any charges being brought,” Anderson assured him confidently. That won him a fraction of softening. “However, unofficially and off the record, I was hoping that perhaps Shay wouldn’t mind answering a couple of questions for me before you all go.” Conall straightened up and took a step away from the wall.
“I’m afraid that’s simply not possible today, Sir,” he said, sounding perfectly calm yet somehow giving the impression of a snarling guard dog, hackles raised. “Apart from the fact that he hasn’t eaten for three days, my cousin is mentally and physically exhausted. He’s in no condition to give you any kind of a report, however unofficially, today.”
“Not forgetting that on top of all that, his brain’s still flooded with chemical crap,” Daniel agreed angrily. “His neurotransmitter levels are all over the place. Any fool can see that. What the hell’s wrong with you?” Another staccato series of taps from Shay’s errant foot punctuated the point.
“Of course.” The Chief Superintendent wasn’t about to argue with them, but he’d felt obliged to ask. “Perhaps you could just take him on home, Daniel? Conall can hang on here for a bit and fill me in on what he witnessed of today’s events before following you.”
Shay’s head turned as his hand shot out to grip his cousin’s arm. No! The movement pulled back the cuff of his baggy jumper, exposing the raw, broken skin around his wrist. You couldn’t help wondering, knowing what he was capable of, if Shay was putting on a calculated performance. Unlikely, but not impossible. He certainly didn’t need to speak to get his messages across.
“Bad idea, Sir,” Conall said softly. “I don’t think he wants to let me out of his sight right now, and it wouldn’t be good for him. He’ll sleep sooner and better knowing we’re both there.”
Anderson stifled a sigh. It looked like he’d need a crowbar to prise those two apart, and if he pushed this, there was a very high risk that DCI Keane’s resignation would be waiting in his Inbox before the end of the day, the very last thing anyone wanted to happen. Shay himself
