Chapter Eleven
Liam was knocking the Rogan’s front door too hard and he knew it, but he didn’t care. The game had changed now and anyone who might have information was in his sights. The net curtain that covered the top of the half-glass door twitched slightly and he expected to hear the click of a lock. Instead, a small face appeared at waist height and a pair of curious brown eyes stared up into his. Liam hunkered down and came face-to-face with a little boy. He smiled through the glass in a way he hoped wouldn’t scare him to death.
“Is your daddy in, son?”
The boy stepped back, startled, whether because of his smile or the loud volume of even his softest voice Liam didn’t know, but he didn’t want him disappearing so Liam smiled again and held his gaze. He withdrew his badge slowly from his pocket and held it against the glass. The boy stepped forward again and pressed his nose on the pane, flattening the tip, then he smiled and turned, running down the hall and shouting, “Granny, Granny, there’s a giant at the door.”
Liam straightened-up, expecting to see a benevolent old lady approaching; instead he was shocked by the vision that walked towards him down the hall. Granny was all of fifty and a stunning fifty at that. She had curves exactly where they should have been and flowing dark hair. Liam didn’t know whether to be pleased or affronted. Grandmothers weren’t supposed to be his age! It made him feel old.
His trivial thoughts were squashed by the thought of John Winter’s torn body and by the time the woman had opened the door Liam had remembered again why he’d come. She pulled the door open wide and smiled up at him, threatening to discomfort him again. Liam flashed his badge in an attempt at officialdom. He saw the brown eyes peeping from behind a door jamb and dropped his voice.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but we’re investigating Diana Rogan’s death.”
“Hello, officer. I’m Madeleine Dodds. My son’s not here I’m afraid. He had to go into work. Conor said you were re-opening the case.”
“It’s one of a number that we think might be linked. There’s been a bit of an escalation today so we urgently need to see if there was a particular item in Mrs Rogan’s effects that we’ve missed.”
Liam glanced down the hallway meaningfully and Madeleine Dodds stepped back, realising that she should invite him in.
“I’m so sorry. Keeping you here on the doorstep; what was I thinking of?”
She waved Liam towards a small front room and offered him some tea. He shook his head.
“No tea, thank you. But I wonder if you would mind if I took another look around.” He had a sudden thought that she could help him with the search. “We’re looking for a key-shaped object that was found at all of the other scenes.”
The glamorous grandmother wrinkled her nose in thought. “A key? I think we’ve only got the usual: car, house, that sort of thing.”
Liam shook his head. “Sorry, no. It isn’t actually a key, it just looks like one.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew the photograph Davy had provided, pointing at the ornate Gothic shape. “It looks like this. It’s a bit unusual so you might have noticed it.”
Madeleine Dodds took the page and stared at it as Liam watched hopefully. His heart sank as she started to shake her head.
“I don’t think… it…”
She paused for a moment and Liam felt his heart lift. The key had to be somewhere in the house that they hadn’t looked. Diana Rogan must have had it close to hand while she’d written the note; she’d had to copy the text verbatim and her mind would have been too disturbed with thoughts of suicide to think to hide the key. But Craig had been all through the Rogan’s bedroom and found nothing, and Jake had called him on the way there and said that it wasn’t in Rogan’s office either; her work computer only took their own USBs. Liam had a brief thought that every office in Belfast must be run by paranoids then Madeleine Dodds spoke again.
“Just a moment…”
Her words lost definition as she disappeared down the hall. Liam held his breath, afraid to think positively. Two minutes later he heard her call his name and he followed the sound into a large, bright kitchen. She was standing in one corner of the room, smiling down at something. As Liam got closer he saw that there was a little girl playing at her feet. He remembered that the Rogan’s had two children; the eight-year-old boy who had greeted him and a little girl of four. The girl was kneeling in front of a doll’s house glaring up at her grandmother defiantly. Her expression was so like his daughter Erin’s when she was in a snit that Liam almost laughed.
“No!”
The word was shouted and accompanied by the girl folding her arms in a way she’d obviously seen an adult do at some point.
“Yes, Molly. You have to. It’s not a toy.”
“It’s mine!”
The volume of her shout was so impressive that Liam had to stifle a grin. Her grandmother was having none of it and she bent down and reached inside the doll’s house, taking something out and placing it in Liam's hand. She waved him back into the hall, shutting the door firmly behind them to block out the oncoming storm. Liam stared down at the object and his jaw dropped. It was the fourth key! The little girl must have found it and thought it was a toy. Madeleine Dodds shrugged.
“I noticed it last week, but I thought it was a toy that Conor had bought her. She was pretending it locked the doors in her doll’s house.” She smiled proudly. “She’s a bright little thing.”
Liam thanked God she wasn’t bright enough to use a computer yet.
***
Craig walked down the long corridor from the I.C.U. bracing himself for his next task. He could see John clearly in his head, not the bandaged pale body that he’d just left, hooked up to drips, but John sitting cheerfully surrounded by Chinese carry-out, in the same corridor one evening eighteen months before. It had been Liam’s turn to be targeted by a killer then and they’d been standing vigil for him. Thankfully he’d recovered quickly but taking risks was part of Liam’s job description; John hadn’t signed up for any of this. Craig remembered them bantering and laughing so loudly that evening that a young constable had given them a disapproving glance. They’d always had the same sense of humour, even the darkest bits. It was probably why they’d been friends since they were twelve. That and their love of playing cops and robbers.
Craig pushed through the doors into the surgical corridor and headed to where the nurse had said the consultants’ offices were. He had to find Natalie and tell her about John before she heard it through the grapevine. Hospitals were like the police force, one big village, and every village had its gossips.
Craig reached the end of the corridor and stopped outside a door marked ‘Admin’. He hesitated before knocking then entered without waiting for a reply. In front of him sat a low wooden desk and behind it twenty more. The room was filled with the usual office symphony: keyboards clicking, phones ringing and a kettle on the boil. Craig was dragged from his reverie by a female voice enquiring, “Can I help you, sir?”
A small, slim woman of pensionable age stood in front of him with a vague smile on her face. Craig stared at her for so long that she repeated her question. Her voice was kinder this time and he knew that she’d seen him instantly for what he was; someone with a friend who was ill. He went to speak and realised that his mouth was bone dry – adrenaline was a funny old thing.
“Yes, please. I hope you can. I’m looking for Dr Ingrams.” He corrected it immediately to ‘Miss’ remembering that surgeons dropped their doctor title on the way through. It was considered rude to hand it back to them.
The small face smiled. “May I ask why? She’s very busy, I’m afraid.”
Craig recognised the filtering questions needed to sift the necessary enquiries from the rest. People always thought they needed to speak to a consultant and no-one less would do. He smiled.
“I’m a personal friend of hers, Marc Craig. If you tell her I’m here I’m certain she’ll want to see me.”
The woman smiled again and then frowned, working out the implication of his words quickly. Craig looked distressed which meant that someone close was ill; either someone he loved or someone Miss Ingrams did. The woman rushed quickly to the telephone and made a sotto voce call. One minute later Natalie came flying out from an inner room. She bounced towards Craig with her usual verve and a wide smile on her face.
“Hi, Marc. What’s the occasion?” She didn’t wait for his reply just shouted over her shoulder at a younger girl, “Louise, you can bleep me if you need me.” Then she linked Craig’s arm and drew him out the door, oblivious to the concerned glance of the woman who’d called. Natalie babbled away without pausing until they reached the end of the corridor and were alone, then Craig stopped and turned towards her. His eyes said the words before they hit the air. Natalie’s face dropped then she spoke as if she was in a dream.
“John?”
Craig nodded and she screamed the words that followed. “Is he dead, Marc? Tell me now, is he dead?”
Craig placed his hands on her shoulders and tears sprang to his eyes. He shook his head firmly. “No. He’s alive, but he’s in I.C.U., Nat…”
Before Craig could finish his sentence Natalie was running down the surgical corridor. He ran after her, catching her up just as they reached the door of the I.C.U. He pulled her to him, hugging her against his chest as Natalie struggled furiously to break his hold.
“Let me go, Marc. I have to see him.”
Craig gazed down at her in silence until her struggling stopped and she let him draw her to a seat. He took her hand and outlined the past few days.
“They got into his office, somehow. They distracted his protection officer, I don’t know how yet, but I’ll find out. They shot him once in the back and they must have thought that would be enough.” He smiled tightly. “But you know John, stubborn as hell, thank God.”
Natalie said nothing, just nodded. Craig carried on.
“Miss Smyth, his surgeon, said they’d managed to repair the artery and removed part of one lung, so he’s going to be OK, Natalie. With care he’ll be OK.” Craig repeated the words firmly until Natalie gave a nod and he was certain that she’d heard. After a long pause she spoke calmly.
“Why didn’t you tell me when he was in theatre, Marc?”
Craig took a deep breath. He’d known that she was going to ask the question and he’d been searching hard for the reason why he hadn’t. Why hadn’t he told her earlier? She’d had a right to know, to be there. Had he been trying to protect her? Yes, that was part of it certainly, but not all. Did he think that because they weren’t married yet she had fewer rights? Craig shook his head as soon as he thought it. No. That definitely wasn’t it. Natalie was John’s world and he was hers; no-one had a bigger right to know than her. Why then? The conclusion that he’d come to was the answer that he gave her now.
“I was afraid, Nat. Afraid that if I said the words out loud then somehow they would come true and he would die. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
She smiled at him and nodded, then she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek and Craig knew that she understood. He’d known John for thirty years and he was almost Mirella’s adopted son. Craig had been John’s only family since his parents had died and he’d been afraid he was going to lose the brother he loved. Natalie stood up slowly and turned towards the sliding door of the I.C.U. with a faint smile on her lips, then she disappeared and Craig sat back to wait again.
***
The C.C.U. 5.10 p.m.
Liam strode across the squad-room floor, booming his return.
“OK, the boss is incommunicado and we’ve got work to do.”
He threw the small evidence bag on Davy’s desk in a way that said ‘what do you think of that?’
“The fourth key? W…Where did you get it?”
Liam tapped his nose and sniffed. “Copper’s nose. I’ve told you before, never underestimate it.”
Just then Craig’s voice cut across the floor. “Never underestimate what? The strength of Jake’s hair gel?”
Liam’s eyes widened. Not at the fact that Craig looked like crap, with his tie awry and his jacket as crumpled as if he’d slept in it. He just wondered why he was there at all.
“What are you doing here?”
“Now there’s a welcome. It’s lovely to see you too, Liam. You didn’t answer my question. Never underestimate what?”
Davy waved the evidence bag. Craig snatched it out of his hand and held it up to the light.
“Is this…?”
Liam grinned and nodded. “It is. The Rogan’s youngest was using it as a key for her doll’s house. She must have found it.”
“Did you ask where?”
Liam stared at him blankly for a moment and then swore. “Oh hell, I forgot. Give me a minute.”
Craig waved him to a seat and grabbed a chair. “You can call later.” He scanned the room. Everyone was there and they were all staring at him. “OK. Get a drink and a seat and let’s get on with this.” Once they were settled he took a deep breath and said. “John’s all right.”
A chorus of ‘thank Gods’ and ‘that’s brilliants’ erupted. Craig silenced it with a raised hand.
“He’s not out of the woods yet. The bullet…” He stopped abruptly and turned to Davy. “Do you have anything on it yet?”
Davy nodded. “It’s a 9 by 19 millimetre Parabellum. Full metal jacket. They’re used in a lot of handguns, mostly s…semi-automatics, and they’re lethal at close quarters. W…Whoever fired at Dr Winter definitely meant to kill him.”
Craig’s eyes darkened. “Thanks, Davy. The bullet nicked John’s pulmonary artery and entered his left lung. He’s a very lucky man; two inches lower down and he might have been dead. As it is he’s lost part of his lung and a lot of blood. He’s in the I.C.U. Natalie’s with him.”
Annette interrupted. “You found her then, sir? How is she?”
Craig nodded. “She’s doing OK. Like all of us but with a surgeon’s knowledge, which is good and bad. She’s planning on staying in the I.C.U. tonight.”
“Is he awake yet?”
Craig shook his head. “Not yet, he lost a lot of blood.” He paused for a moment picturing John, then shook himself and carried on. “OK. I’d like to hear from each of you in a minute, but first Davy, what’s on the USB?”