Read Online Shattered by Gabrielle Lord - Free Book Online

coffee, chewing it slowly.
    ‘There are also other rumours going round,’ she continued, ‘that it’s a cop-on-cop killing. There’s another superintendent, Dan Galleone, whose name keeps coming up whenever Bryson Finn’s gets mentioned. Some long-term feud. I’m chasing it up. But it’s all hearsay and innuendo so far. People claiming they heard something about it from someone, you know how it goes.’
    Gemma finished her food and Angie glanced at her watch. ‘I’d better get going,’ she said. ‘I want to suggest something to you,’ she went on. ‘Don’t know what you might think about it, but I’d like to register you as an informant.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Think about it. It makes sense. It stops people from grizzling if I’m seen doing something like this,’ she indicated the coffee, the food. ‘You’d be surprised how many eyes there are out there. Word gets around. Plus you could do a bit of digging around for me. You know how being a cop has its drawbacks when it comes to getting information out of certain types of people. Sometimes a civilian gets a much better result. You could ask about the sister-in-law – talk to the surviving brother. I could even get some money for you, pay for your time. Not a lot,’ she hastened, noticing the expression on Gemma’s face. ‘It’s okay. You don’t have to decide right now. Just think about it, will you?’
    She glanced at her watch again. ‘I told Natalie I’d pick her up from the hospital. She’s been there all night and morning. She’s going to need to get stuff from home.’
    ‘Can I come with you?’ Gemma asked, rising with her. ‘I promise I’ll think about letting you register me,’ she added, to forestall any objections.
    •
    As Angie and Gemma took the hospital lift, Gemma rehearsed various condolences. They got out at the fifth floor and walked through the security door to the end of the corridor. Beyond a tiny kitchenette was a sitting room, large enough for a small cupboard, low table and two chairs upholstered in green and white florals. A vase of hothouse roses stood stiffly in a perfect arrangement on the window ledge and a small television on top of the cupboard showed a mindless sitcom with the sound turned off.
    Any rehearsed words of comfort faded from Gemma’s mind when the woman sitting in one of the chairs raised her ravaged, tear-stained face.
    ‘Natalie,’ Gemma started, ‘I’m so very sorry about your husband and son.’
    Saying the words and seeing Natalie Finn’s attractive face marked with the stigmata of suffering – swollen, red-rimmed eyes, chafed skin, lank unbrushed hair – made Gemma tearful herself.
    Natalie Finn, clad in a hospital gown and a man’s sports jacket, stared at her, uncomprehending, as if Gemma had said something in Swahili. Angie hurried over and squatted in front of the grief-stricken woman. ‘Natalie,’ she said. ‘I’m here to run you home if you want. You need clothes, a shower. You need to take a break.’
    Natalie seemed not to have noticed her. A few more moments passed and Gemma saw Natalie straighten up, as if bringing herself out of a trance. As though seeing Angie for the first time, she said, ‘I didn’t write that note.’
    ‘Note?’
    ‘The police took my clothes away,’ Natalie said. ‘That’s why I’m dressed like this. Someone lent me the coat. I haven’t left my boy’s side until just now. The doctors sent me away. They said just for ten minutes. They wanted me to have a break. A break,’ she repeated, looking over at the roses on the window ledge. ‘Those awful roses. Why are they there? They’re too bright.’
    Gemma deftly removed the vase, placing it behind the door.
    ‘You need to have a break, Natalie,’ Angie repeated. ‘Have you got someone you’d like me to call for you? A relative? Friend?’
    Natalie seemed not to have heard her.
    ‘I did a terrible, terrible thing, and if Donny dies,’ she whispered, ‘I will never, ever forgive