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That white borehole in the sea, slowly closing.
Darkness. Horror.
Death-like sleep.
THIRTEEN
Daniel Locke is moved from the emergency department to ICU and from there, hours later, to a side room on Lundy Ward, up on the third floor.
DI Abraham Rose is notified while he’s nursing his third coffee, scrolling through photos of Billie Locke harvested from social media. Minutes later he’s staring at the hospital bed.
Lucy Locke’s downstairs. From the sound of it, frozen half to death. Crazy-brave to have ventured into that sea. But Abraham heard her plea inside the Drift Net. He saw her raw desperation. However bad her physical condition, it’ll be nothing to the trauma inside her head.
Silent, he watches the consultant examine Daniel Locke. Dr Hara Annapurna is a striking-looking woman: steel hair, thin lips, cheekbones like glass prisms beneath the skin. As she bends over the bed, Abraham shifts his attention to her patient.
Right now, only Daniel Locke’s head is visible. The rest of him is wrapped inside a Bair Hugger – a ribbed inflatable connected to a warm-air pump. The dialysis machineused to heat his blood has gone. In its place, a simple gravity drip administers warmed saline. A mask delivers oxygen. Various leads snake out of the Bair Hugger to a vital-signs monitor.
Even now, returned from near-death, Locke looks younger than his forty-two years: sharp features, black hair, white teeth – the kind of face used to flog sports cars, watches or expensive designer suits.
His eyes are closed. No hint of movement beneath the lids.
Annapurna writes something on a clipboard and hands it to the nurse. When she turns back to Abraham, his diaphragm spasms. He swallows, fearing the onset of a coughing fit. ‘Doctor?’ he asks. ‘A word?’
A single once-over is all Annapurna needs to figure out his connection. ‘It’ll have to be brief.’
‘Of course. You’re aware of the background. Neither child’s been found. There’s a chance Daniel Locke has information that could save them. I need to know whether he’ll recover. And if so, when I can speak to him.’
‘He’s lucky to have survived, certainly,’ Annapurna says. ‘But he’s also incredibly resilient. Under the circumstances, I have no objection to you questioning him whenever he wakes.’
‘How long before he’s discharged?’
She purses her lips.
‘Between me and you.’
‘In a presentation like this, I’d always keep the patient in overnight. Barring any complications, considering his good physical condition, I wouldn’t expect a longer stay.’ She pauses. ‘I understand his wife is downstairs.’
‘That’s what I heard. And in not much better shape.’
Annapurna shakes her head. ‘It’s all very sad. Was there anything else?’
‘No. Thank you. You’ve been a great help.’
She tilts her head. ‘Are you OK? You look a little … wrung out.’
His heart jumps. It’s the first time anyone’s noticed anything wrong from his physical appearance alone. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Just remember to get some sleep.’
The small kindness makes him awkward. He can’t look at her again.
Once the consultant leaves, Abraham returns his gaze to Daniel Locke. It’s quiet in here, just the two of them. Peaceful. None of the chaos Lucy Locke is facing in the emergency department. None of the crowding. Through the double-glazed windows, he hears barely a murmur from the storm raging outside.
Locke’s eyes remain still beneath their lids.
Abraham turns to the monitor. He notes the numbers: heart rate, blood pressure, oxygen saturation and temperature.
‘“He’s lucky to have survived, certainly,”’ he says, repeating Annapurna’s words. Approaching the bed, he peers at Locke’s face, then retreats. ‘She struck me as a competent physician. But in that particular respect I’d say her judgement’s questionable, wouldn’t you? I’m Detective Inspector Rose.’