Page 42
Story: The Rising Tide
‘I’m looking for my husband,’ Lucy says. ‘Daniel Locke.’
Her words elongate and ping back, as if they’re attached by elastic. Suddenly, everything resolves. She sees the receptionist clearly. Sees how she flinches from Daniel’s name. As if it’s a knife. Or a sharp loosed stone.
The woman taps her keyboard. ‘That’s the … He’s the one who …’
‘Daniel,’ Lucy says. ‘His name’s Daniel.’
The woman’s lips shrink further. ‘Looks like they transferred him to Lundy Ward. A room of his own.’
‘He’s alive.’
‘No one told you?’
She shakes her head. ‘Lundy Ward?’
‘Follow the signs. Third floor.’
Lucy turns, nearly collides with the person behind her. Mutters an apology and stumbles away. Follows a corridor to a staircase. Limps up it to ICU. Lundy Ward is opposite. She passes a police officer stationed outside a door. Looks for a ward sister, anyone who can help.
‘Mrs Locke?’
Lucy wheels around. Waits for the corridor to settle.
‘I’m Sergeant Hurst. We thought you were downstairs.’
‘Where is he?’
‘Did they let you—’
‘Where’s Daniel?’
Hurst’s expression flattens. ‘Wait here,’ he tells her. ‘I’ll see if you can go in.’
FIFTEEN
1
His face inches from Daniel Locke’s, Abraham says, ‘I see I have your attention. That’s good.’
Locke’s blue eyes are startling in their intensity, cold and savagely beautiful.
Wolf, Abraham thinks. And knows he’ll have to tread carefully. ‘In future, I’d advise against feigning sleep while hooked up to a vital-signs monitor. You might fool the doctors, but they’re not the ones asking difficult questions. What happened to the children, Daniel? Where are Billie and Fin?’
Locke’s eyes flare like struck match-heads. Beside him, the monitor records another spike in heart rate and respiration.
‘Were either of them alive when you last saw them?’
The man’s jaw begins to work, as if he’s trying to lubricate his tongue.
Abraham reaches down and lifts away the mask. ‘Youreek of booze. Was that to give you courage? I don’t know if you intended to kill yourself out there. If so, you’re out of luck. Your window is long gone. When I leave, there’ll be an officer in here at all times. Later, when we take you to the police station, you’ll be placed on suicide watch. Whatever you did, whatever crime you committed, I’ll uncover it. As I said before – and you need to listen very carefully, because I guarantee you haven’t come across anyone like me before –I follow a higher authority.’
Hearing that, Locke bares his teeth.
In truth, even in custody it’s difficult to keep determined prisoners from killing themselves. But Abraham is going to learn what happened to those kids. And Daniel Locke, one way or another, is going to help him.
He feels a cough coming, this one a real blood-burster. He’s half tempted to let it fly, showering Locke with diseased lung. Instead, he buries his mouth in the crook of his elbow. The pain is bad, but it passes. When Abraham returns his gaze to the bed, he finds Locke staring.
‘I have a message,’ the man hisses. Again, his eyes flare. ‘A message for thatbitch.’
Her words elongate and ping back, as if they’re attached by elastic. Suddenly, everything resolves. She sees the receptionist clearly. Sees how she flinches from Daniel’s name. As if it’s a knife. Or a sharp loosed stone.
The woman taps her keyboard. ‘That’s the … He’s the one who …’
‘Daniel,’ Lucy says. ‘His name’s Daniel.’
The woman’s lips shrink further. ‘Looks like they transferred him to Lundy Ward. A room of his own.’
‘He’s alive.’
‘No one told you?’
She shakes her head. ‘Lundy Ward?’
‘Follow the signs. Third floor.’
Lucy turns, nearly collides with the person behind her. Mutters an apology and stumbles away. Follows a corridor to a staircase. Limps up it to ICU. Lundy Ward is opposite. She passes a police officer stationed outside a door. Looks for a ward sister, anyone who can help.
‘Mrs Locke?’
Lucy wheels around. Waits for the corridor to settle.
‘I’m Sergeant Hurst. We thought you were downstairs.’
‘Where is he?’
‘Did they let you—’
‘Where’s Daniel?’
Hurst’s expression flattens. ‘Wait here,’ he tells her. ‘I’ll see if you can go in.’
FIFTEEN
1
His face inches from Daniel Locke’s, Abraham says, ‘I see I have your attention. That’s good.’
Locke’s blue eyes are startling in their intensity, cold and savagely beautiful.
Wolf, Abraham thinks. And knows he’ll have to tread carefully. ‘In future, I’d advise against feigning sleep while hooked up to a vital-signs monitor. You might fool the doctors, but they’re not the ones asking difficult questions. What happened to the children, Daniel? Where are Billie and Fin?’
Locke’s eyes flare like struck match-heads. Beside him, the monitor records another spike in heart rate and respiration.
‘Were either of them alive when you last saw them?’
The man’s jaw begins to work, as if he’s trying to lubricate his tongue.
Abraham reaches down and lifts away the mask. ‘Youreek of booze. Was that to give you courage? I don’t know if you intended to kill yourself out there. If so, you’re out of luck. Your window is long gone. When I leave, there’ll be an officer in here at all times. Later, when we take you to the police station, you’ll be placed on suicide watch. Whatever you did, whatever crime you committed, I’ll uncover it. As I said before – and you need to listen very carefully, because I guarantee you haven’t come across anyone like me before –I follow a higher authority.’
Hearing that, Locke bares his teeth.
In truth, even in custody it’s difficult to keep determined prisoners from killing themselves. But Abraham is going to learn what happened to those kids. And Daniel Locke, one way or another, is going to help him.
He feels a cough coming, this one a real blood-burster. He’s half tempted to let it fly, showering Locke with diseased lung. Instead, he buries his mouth in the crook of his elbow. The pain is bad, but it passes. When Abraham returns his gaze to the bed, he finds Locke staring.
‘I have a message,’ the man hisses. Again, his eyes flare. ‘A message for thatbitch.’
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