Protection (29 page)

“Is it true she's had a heart attack? How serious is it? Is she going to die?”

Carmichael took a step forward. “How the fuck did you get in here?”He demanded. “Get out!”

But the reporter wasn't budging. “The gates were open.”He shot back. “Open invitation to my mind. So, what's going on? Was it a heart attack? Who found her? Was it that girlfriend of hers? Is she at the…”

“I told you to get out.”Carmichael said through gritted teeth. “Now are you going or do I have to force you?”

The reporter laughed. “Just try it mate. Lay one finger on me and it'll be all over the papers how you beat me up.”

“Fine.”Carmichael smiled as blue and red strobes began to light up the driveway. “But if you won't leave for me, maybe you'll go for that lot.”

From inside her car, Andrea stared at the tall, imposing building through the mist of her fogged-up windscreen and watched as a nurse, wearing only her thin uniform and carrying a stack of folders, hurried through the myriad of puddles stretching from one end of the block to the other.

Andrea knew how she felt. Earlier that morning she'd been forced to do the same. Trotting through the torrential rain to the front door of the house, where she'd hurried past the hordes of curious workers busy cleaning away the last of the artificial snow, to shower and change and exchange a few brief words with Amanda before leaving for the hospital again.

Now it looked as though she was in for yet another soaking.

The hospital entrance was miles away from where she'd parked the car and her umbrella was still sitting where she'd left it - propped up in the porch back at the house- therefore it seemed her only option was to attempt the hundred yard dash for the second time in one day.

Damn it.

But there was nothing else for it, unless she wanted to risk the wrath of the hospital by parking in the ambulance zone, and so turning up the collar of her coat, Andrea locked the car and sprinted across the tarmac. Dodging the puddles and cursing the weather and pleased when finally she managed to slip through the automatic doors to begin the long trek to Carrie's bedside. .

“Hey babe.”She smiled, as she entered the private room just as Carrie was finishing her breakfast of milk soaked cornflakes. “How you feeling this morning?”

“Sore.”Carrie rasped, running a hand along her throat. “Breakkie hurts.”She pointed at Andrea.

“Me? I'm fine. Bit damp, but basically alright.”She said, sitting herself on the side of the bed and giving Carrie a hug. “God, babe. You had me so worried! I really thought I'd lost you.”

Carrie stroked her hair. “Not me.”She croaked. “Stuck with me now.”

“Thank God.”Andrea said, moving to a chair. “But I'm so sorry babe. You can't being to imagine how guilty I feel! I should have been there for you, protecting you! Not pouncing around outside!”

Carrie frowned sympathetically and scribbling something on a pad she had lying next to her, passed it to Andrea. ‘ Don't worry ‘bout it.' It read. ‘ I don't blame you and you were protecting me. You were patrolling the house remember?'

Andrea kissed her. “You're so sweet.”She said. “But I still feel responsible. I wouldn't blame you if you gave me the sack.”

Carrie pulled an ‘as if'face and Andrea smiled.

“At least the police believe I acted in your best interests.”She said. “Which is a weight off my mind. I was crapping bricks about what they were going to do to me. Have they spoken to you yet by the way?”

‘ They tried.' Carrie wrote. ‘ But I was too out of it to help much.'

“They'll be back then I guess. And don't be surprised if one of them asks for an autograph. Carmichael said one of them was standing around the house with his tongue practically hanging out.”

‘ Wonderful.' Carrie scribbled. ‘ I can hardly wait. Can I have another kiss now?'

“Oh, I should think so.”

They were interrupted by a discreet cough and looking up they saw an embarrassed looking man standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“Sorry to interrupt.”He said. “But the nurse said it would be okay to come in. I'm DI Blake by the way.”And he stuck out his hand for Andrea and Carrie to shake.

“I should have been at the house last night.”He carried on. “But I was way over the other side of the county and by the time I got back you were already here and your attacker was already in custody. How you feeling though? Any better?”

“Still sore”Andrea answered for her. “Doctors say it will take a while.”

“I can imagine, but at least you're on the mend now. So how do you feel about giving a statement? I'm sorry to badger you about it when you're obviously feeling grim but if we leave it too long I'm afraid you might forget something vital.”

‘ Later be okay?' Carrie wrote.

“Sure. How about this afternoon? And don't worry about having to speak if it's still hurting you, you can just write it all down if you like.”

‘ Okay, if my wrist holds out. What happened to my attacker?'

“Isobel Pearce you mean?”

Carrie nodded.

“Well, for a start, it seems she knows you.”

“That's what we thought.”Andrea said. “But Carrie can't recall her.”

Blake smiled. “Well, that doesn't surprise me.”He said. “Because it isn't Carrie she claims to know. It's you, Andrea.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Apparently, it wasn't Carrie she was after, but you, and according to Isobel it all started when you were working for ‘ Harris and Palmer'.”

“But that was years ago!”Andrea frowned. “I can't have been more than eighteen and I wasn't there very long before I left to join the police force.”

Blake nodded and fishing out a note pad from his pocket, flicked through it.

“The time period Isobel gave us was just before and after a Christmas party. Do you remember that?”

Andrea felt the blood drain from her face. How could she ever forget that? Months it had taken her to get over it. Weeks in which she'd constantly asked herself how she could have been so stupid as to have sex with a complete stranger and risk catching some horrible, sexual disease? But she'd still done it. Still thrown away caution and her bloody clothes to the wind.

“I remember it.”She said carefully. “I left soon afterwards.”

“Isobel Pearce.”Blake went on. “Claims it was a masquerade and that everyone wore masks...”

“That's right. I had one decorated with Peacock feathers.”

“Isobel's was an Owl.”

Andrea closed her eyes, and running her hand down her face, sighed heavily.

The stranger she had fucked in the locker room had been Isobel! She could hardly believe it! But how had she found her again and why had she attacked Carrie?

Lifting her head, she stared at Blake. “What's going on?”She asked, reaching for Carrie's hand and relieved beyond words when Carrie took it. “Why did she come back? Why did she attack Carrie?”

Blake cleared his throat. “It's a bit of a saga I'm afraid, but it seems that when you disappeared after the festive break, Isobel was left heartbroken. She claims she searched high and low for you and tried every means possible to discover where you'd gone, but when she didn't have any success, she gave up and moved on to another job, thinking she'd never see you again. Then she saw your face on the television…”

‘ At a premiere?' Carrie wrote.

“That's right.”

“But, like I said, it was all years ago!”Andrea said. “And as far as I was concerned it was just a party fling. I don't remember ever saying or doing anything that might have given her the impression it was anything more serious.”

“Well, Isobel clearly thought it was. And when she saw you on TV, she obviously thought it was time to get reaquainted. The fact that you had a new girlfriend made no difference to her. She simply saw Carrie as an obstacle to get rid of.”

Carrie made it home for Christmas, and soon after arriving, Andrea stole her away to explain what had happened with Isobel.

“I had no idea she'd read so much into a one night stand.”She said, sitting on the sofa with Carrie, the fire warming their legs. “I thought she was just having a bit of fun like me, not preparing to settle down and pick out curtains. If only she'd found me when she'd first started looking. Maybe then we could have sorted things out without resorting to violence.”

“Maybe.”Carrie replied, whispering to spare her throat. “If you could have got her to listen. But it seems to me the only thing she was really interested in was getting you back.”

“I suppose. But if that was her plan, she went the wrong way about it. She nearly killed you! And you're so calm about it! Aren't you the least bit annoyed?”

“Annoyed? I'd love to throttle her, the little bitch. But what's the point of getting all steamed up about her when I've got much better things to think about.”

“Like what?”Andrea frowned. “I thought we had everything sorted for Christmas? What've we forgotten?”

Carrie grinned. “Such a short memory.”She chuckled. “Don't tell me you've forgotten already that I asked you to marry me?”

Andrea looked aghast. “No, of course not, I just thought that with everything else that's happened..”

“I wouldn't want to talk about it? Rubbish! I was thinking about setting a date. Soon. Before anyone else crawls out of the woodwork and tries to lure you away from me.”

New Year and on a crisp, bright day with frost coating the lawn and Carrie still lounging in a nice, warm bed, Andrea crept out of the house, climbed into her car and set off to visit the prison where Isobel was serving remand before her trial.

The wedding date was set for late Spring, when the weather would be warmer and the flowers would be out, and Carrie had even managed to persuade her parents to come down a week early. Primarily to lend their moral support, but more importantly, so Carrie could spend some time with them.

Amanda had offered to make the cake, or more precisely, had insisted upon it, whilst Carmichael, initially rocked to the core that his beloved Carrie was going to marry, soon rallied round and became glued to the phone. Fending off as many requests to attend the wedding as he had done with the Christmas party, although with such an intimate wedding planned, most of those who called ended up disappointed.

The press, meanwhile, speculated on what the two brides would be wearing for their big day. Their interest only surpassed by who would win the battle to gain exclusive rights to the wedding pictures.

Snow had started to fall by the time Andrea reached the grim looking building and brushing flakes from her shoulders, she followed the burly prison officer inside the heavy, iron doors and along a concrete corridor. Only stopping when they reached an equally grim, grey painted door, and he paused to peer through a tiny spy hole.

Then, after uttering a few, brief instructions, he left her to it. Returning to a plain looking work station half way down the corridor where, feet up on the desk, he sat and watched, confident that she wouldn't attempt to enter the cell and actually try to speak to Isobel.

Not that that had ever been her intention. In fact, she wasn't even sure why exactly she was here? To look at her? To try and equate Isobel with the same person she'd made such erotic love with? It was hard to say because she hadn't even recognized her. A truth that had made her feel guilty at first before Carrie had reminded her that it had been a long time ago and Christmas. The traditional time for getting outrageously drunk and letting inhibitions go.

She still thought she should have felt something though, other than this numbness, but as far as she was concerned, the woman on the other side of this door could be anyone.

Just another stranger. Sitting at a battered, wooden table and rocking back and forth on a rickety looking chair.

A single finger patiently tracing the same thing again and again. Never deviating from her task. Never looking up. Just scrolling the same thing over and over, whilst on the other side of the door, Andrea watched her and frowned and watched again.

Her eyes following the pattern until finally she had deciphered it, and with a shudder, walked away.

Leaving Isobel Pierce to scratch the letter ‘ a' in one, continuous loop.