paused mid-sweep. “I never wanted to take that shortcut! I loved running cross-country. You were the lazy arse who insisted we go across the turnip field.”
The memory made Meg grin. Unbeknownst to them, Kincaid had been lurking on the section of route they had bypassed, and he had rumbled their shortcut fair and square.
“Always such a swotty little thing.” She smoothed Sanne’s unruly hair from her forehead. “You want a hand taking your coat off?”
Sanne shook her head, excuses already tumbling from her lips. “I’m fine. I need to get back to work, start writing everything up. The boss will be wondering where I am. You’ll have to give a statement—I can ask Nelson to take it—and you’ll phone me as soon as you hear anything, won’t you?”
She tried to stand, but all her strength seemed to desert her. Her shoulders sagged, and tears brimmed in her eyes. She wiped her nose heedlessly on the sleeve of her borrowed coat.
“God, Meg, I thought she was going to die on me. It felt like forever out there before the chopper came, and I couldn’t do anything for her. All I could do was keep her fucking head still and tell her she’d be okay.” She ran out of breath and gave a single sob. “And she’s going to die, isn’t she? So I can tell a fucking lie after all, can’t I?”
She tensed when Meg reached for her, but then she pressed her face against Meg’s neck and let herself be held. Meg rocked her gently, the aimless motion calming them both. It was less than a minute, however, before the sound of voices in the corridor made Sanne pull away. She took the tissue Meg offered her and blew her nose.
“What did the scan show?” she asked, using the same tissue to dry her eyes.
“Multiple skull fractures.” Meg stroked the back of Sanne’s head, surreptitiously checking for bumps. “And a clot from a bleed. Maxwell—the neurosurgeon you saw in the shock room—he’s going to try to remove it, but it was pretty big, San. Even if he’s successful, it may have caused irreversible damage.”
Sanne sat up properly, pulled her knees beneath her chin, and wrapped her right arm around them. She was staring at her muddy trainers when she spoke again.
“Was she raped?”
“I don’t know.” Meg saw Sanne’s confused glance. “There wasn’t time for a rape kit. We’ll need to get someone over from St. Margaret’s to do that. The nurse who catheterised her didn’t note any signs of trauma to her genitals, though—no bleeding or discharge. None of the typical injuries you’d see in a sexual assault, either. No bite marks or bruising to her thighs or breasts.”
“I don’t get it,” Sanne said. “Why else would someone have taken her? Personal grudge? Ransom?”
“I’m glad it’s not my job to figure that out. I’m not sure I want to know.”
“I want to know. It’s the only way we’re going to catch this bastard. If she escaped from him before he was done, chances are he’s already looking for another victim. Shit, I need to speak to Nelson.” Sanne stood too abruptly and swayed on the spot, her flush of anger vanishing, leaving her face pallid and clammy. “Whoa, what the fuck?” she muttered, grabbing the hand that Meg flung out to brace her.
“Sit your arse back down.” Meg pushed her into the chair. “Apart from half a piece of shortbread, what’ve you eaten today?”
“Does a smoothie count?”
“Sort of. What else have you had?”
“Some water. That tea.”
“And how far had you run before you embarked on your impromptu rock climb?”
“About eight miles.” She peeked up at Meg. “Who told you about the rock climb?”
“Nelson.” Meg didn’t try to disguise her exasperation. “You’re probably dehydrated, and even an idiot could see you’ve hurt your arm. So, drink the rest of your tea and get that coat off.”
Sanne shuffled in the chair like a scolded child. “I can’t.”
“Can’t what? Tea or coat?”
“Coat. I think it’s
The memory made Meg grin. Unbeknownst to them, Kincaid had been lurking on the section of route they had bypassed, and he had rumbled their shortcut fair and square.
“Always such a swotty little thing.” She smoothed Sanne’s unruly hair from her forehead. “You want a hand taking your coat off?”
Sanne shook her head, excuses already tumbling from her lips. “I’m fine. I need to get back to work, start writing everything up. The boss will be wondering where I am. You’ll have to give a statement—I can ask Nelson to take it—and you’ll phone me as soon as you hear anything, won’t you?”
She tried to stand, but all her strength seemed to desert her. Her shoulders sagged, and tears brimmed in her eyes. She wiped her nose heedlessly on the sleeve of her borrowed coat.
“God, Meg, I thought she was going to die on me. It felt like forever out there before the chopper came, and I couldn’t do anything for her. All I could do was keep her fucking head still and tell her she’d be okay.” She ran out of breath and gave a single sob. “And she’s going to die, isn’t she? So I can tell a fucking lie after all, can’t I?”
She tensed when Meg reached for her, but then she pressed her face against Meg’s neck and let herself be held. Meg rocked her gently, the aimless motion calming them both. It was less than a minute, however, before the sound of voices in the corridor made Sanne pull away. She took the tissue Meg offered her and blew her nose.
“What did the scan show?” she asked, using the same tissue to dry her eyes.
“Multiple skull fractures.” Meg stroked the back of Sanne’s head, surreptitiously checking for bumps. “And a clot from a bleed. Maxwell—the neurosurgeon you saw in the shock room—he’s going to try to remove it, but it was pretty big, San. Even if he’s successful, it may have caused irreversible damage.”
Sanne sat up properly, pulled her knees beneath her chin, and wrapped her right arm around them. She was staring at her muddy trainers when she spoke again.
“Was she raped?”
“I don’t know.” Meg saw Sanne’s confused glance. “There wasn’t time for a rape kit. We’ll need to get someone over from St. Margaret’s to do that. The nurse who catheterised her didn’t note any signs of trauma to her genitals, though—no bleeding or discharge. None of the typical injuries you’d see in a sexual assault, either. No bite marks or bruising to her thighs or breasts.”
“I don’t get it,” Sanne said. “Why else would someone have taken her? Personal grudge? Ransom?”
“I’m glad it’s not my job to figure that out. I’m not sure I want to know.”
“I want to know. It’s the only way we’re going to catch this bastard. If she escaped from him before he was done, chances are he’s already looking for another victim. Shit, I need to speak to Nelson.” Sanne stood too abruptly and swayed on the spot, her flush of anger vanishing, leaving her face pallid and clammy. “Whoa, what the fuck?” she muttered, grabbing the hand that Meg flung out to brace her.
“Sit your arse back down.” Meg pushed her into the chair. “Apart from half a piece of shortbread, what’ve you eaten today?”
“Does a smoothie count?”
“Sort of. What else have you had?”
“Some water. That tea.”
“And how far had you run before you embarked on your impromptu rock climb?”
“About eight miles.” She peeked up at Meg. “Who told you about the rock climb?”
“Nelson.” Meg didn’t try to disguise her exasperation. “You’re probably dehydrated, and even an idiot could see you’ve hurt your arm. So, drink the rest of your tea and get that coat off.”
Sanne shuffled in the chair like a scolded child. “I can’t.”
“Can’t what? Tea or coat?”
“Coat. I think it’s
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