Read Online Shattered by Gabrielle Lord - Free Book Online Page B

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    She stopped abruptly and Gemma watched as her eyes widened, reliving the scene.
    ‘Take it easy,’ Angie said. ‘Take your time.’
    ‘But before that, I wondered, where’s Findlay? What’s he doing? His car wasn’t there.’
    Findlay Finn, thought Gemma, the brother-in-law, the artist.
    ‘Bettina’s husband,’ Natalie was saying. ‘My artistic brother-in-law.’
    Natalie didn’t seem to have much time for her brother-in-law, Gemma thought, hearing the edge of contempt in the words. Again, she made surreptitious notes, getting down her impressions in as few words as possible. Natalie seemed not to notice.
    ‘There are three low steps just before the front entrance of Bettina’s place,’ continued Natalie, ‘and as I stepped onto the first one, I saw Bryson’s shoes and his feet near the door. Then Bettina’s legs. At first I thought they’d fallen down the stairs in some freak accident. I started calling Donny. That’s when the panic hit me. I ran inside calling him and that’s when I saw him .   .   .’ Natalie’s face crumpled and her voice distorted. ‘He was lying there, with all that blood. I was screaming and I grabbed him and put my hand over this great gushing hole in his neck.’
    Natalie closed her eyes as if to block out the horror of the scene. ‘I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t leave him for a second because my hand was stopping the bleeding. He’d already lost so much blood. All his blood was on the wall and on the floor. Somehow, I managed to get my mobile out with one hand and made a triple-zero call. They seemed to take forever. Donny was so white – like paper. By the time the police and the ambulance arrived I thought he was dead.’ She hunched over again, folded almost double in pain. ‘I’ll never forgive myself. Never. Never. Oh,’ she sobbed, ‘poor Bryson.’
    Angie stood up and went to the television set, switched the silent charade off, catching Gemma’s eye. Even though there’d be a formal police interview later, this spontaneous information was invaluable.
    Natalie fished in her bag for her wallet and pulled out a small school photograph of a bright little boy, hair brushed neatly, still damp from his shower, fresh blue school shirt open at his narrow neck, big cheeky grin lighting his grey eyes, with the same high forehead and wide jaw as his mother.
    ‘He doesn’t look like this any more,’ said Natalie, passing the photograph to Angie. ‘I have to keep looking at this to remind me that somewhere under all those tubes and bandages in ICU is my beautiful little fellow.’
    ‘He’s great,’ said Angie, passing back the photo. ‘And he looks like a brave boy. I can tell from that smile – he’ll fight to live.’
    The subtlest change in Natalie’s eyes indicated that the words had brought some comfort.
    ‘Please try to have a little tea,’ Gemma urged, lifting the styrofoam cup. ‘It could help.’
    Slowly, Natalie straightened up and, ignoring the cup in Gemma’s outstretched hand, fixed her with blazing, reddened eyes from the grey mask of her face. ‘I’ll tell you what will help. You asked me earlier if there’s anything you can do for me? There is. Angie says you’re an investigator now?’
    Gemma nodded.
    ‘Then find out who tried to kill my son! Find out who killed my husband and my sister-in-law. Find out who did this to my family!’
    ‘That’s what we’re here for, Natalie,’ said Angie. ‘The largest strike force I’ve ever known has been organised for this investigation.’
    Natalie jumped to her feet, agitated. ‘I’ve got to go back to my son.’
    ‘Let me take you home,’ said Angie. ‘Just for a few hours. Donny’s in good hands here.’
    ‘I can’t leave him.’
    ‘Okay,’ said Angie. ‘I’ll call you later. We need to take a statement from you. I’ll meet you wherever you are. Here or at home. But please think about getting some rest. You’ll be better able to help Donny if