Page 9 of Indie
“Yeah. You said, Indie,” Fury shot me his best exasperated look.
“No. They passed me and then passed the petrol station on High Road. Bet they have cameras there.”
“Yeah. But how we gonna get our hands on those images?”
“Think I might just know someone.”
*****
It was mid-afternoon by the time I made it back to the hospital. The garage shutters had taken some effort to straighten out, even just to get the place open. And then I’d had to turn away customers as the fucking things hadn’t rolled up high enough to let a car pass under. I suppose I should be thankful the heavy metal had done its job, and despite the number of times the truck rammed it, it had never fully yielded.
I’d left the prospects and Magnet watching over the company who were fixing the problem. Sure, they could probably be trusted. They knew who we were, after all. But I didn’t want them wandering around the garage, sticking noses into places they shouldn’t, or even getting too familiar with how secure, or not, everything inside was.
Visiting time was manic. Cars raced around the carpark, desperately trying to find a space, and it was like the whole of Gateshead and Newcastle combined had descended to visit their sister-in-law’s cousin, twice removed. I tucked the bike between a car and the wall, on the white chevrons at the end of the row of parking spaces and hoped it was still in one piece when I made it back.
The ward my father was on was busy, family milling about, a buzz of voices competing against the beep of machines and the incessant yammering of the call buttons from bedsides. We’d made sure my father had a room right at the far end. I would have paid cash to make it happen, but the twins had sorted it without the need to hand any of our money over.
Slipping inside, the room was quiet, the buzz of activity outside not penetrating the tranquillity of the space. The only noise was the wheeze from my father, and the whoosh of a drip forcing fluid into his body. Ste was asleep. His skin was greyer than usual, and the rattle of his chest as ominous as ever. But it was the shape in the chair beside him that my eyes caught next.
She was curled up in the hospital-issue blue PVC covered seat, her knees folded up under her as she leaned to the left, her head in her arms. A lock of apricot fell from the bun on her head and the same apricot freckles dusted her cheeks and her nose. I’d moved closer without realising, my legs moving, but my mind had wandered ahead moments ago. Her chest rose and fell steadily under the manky blue smock-style shirt, but it rode up slightly, so that I could see the curve of her arse, the dark trousers pulled tight around her.
Emmie sat up suddenly, looking around wildly. First at me, and then at Ste, and then back to me, her eyes widening and her teeth reaching for her bottom lip. And on that bottom lip was abreak in the skin. A red blotch that hadn’t been there when I saw her last night. The skin around the cut was swollen and red, and mottled with cream from the make-up she was wearing to cover it.
She jumped to her feet, swaying for a moment from the body that was not ready to wake up just yet.
“Indie. I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I…I just sat down for a moment beside Mr Carter…Ste.”
She was terrified. Of what exactly, I wasn’t sure. But she wasn’t the one who should be terrified. That was the one who had done that to her lip. Because their face was going to look far fucking worse when I found out who it was. And I would find out.
Chapter Five
The man with the greying hair stood over the top of me and for a moment I couldn’t focus, but I knew who it was. He had a certain presence. Something commanding about him, although he always spoke quietly, in that low, vibrating rumble of his. Shit. I was asleep. Asleep at work. Shit. I sprang upright, my legs not quite keeping up, and darkness rushed at my eyes, stealing my sight for a split second, even though it felt longer. A hand touched my elbow, steadying me.
“Indie. I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I…I just sat down for a moment beside Mr Carter…Ste.”
His eyes scanned my face, stopping at the left-hand side of my lip, at the place where heat still collected, radiating from the spot where the skin was broken.
“Emmie,” his voice was slow, as if he was having to think about the words he used. “What happened to your lip?”
“Err…nothing, really. I mean…it was just the dog.”
“Didn’t think a dog punched people.”
His eyes moved to mine, and he’d stepped closer, so now I was looking up at him. Indie was so much taller from this angle. From closer up. Taller and wider. And imposing.
“That’s not what it was.”
A hand moved towards me, and I jumped backwards instinctively.
“Shit,” he cursed softly.
“I…I need to get back to work. I shouldn’t have been here. If they knew that I’d been asleep… I’m so sorry. That really shouldn’t have happened.”
My words were coming out in a gibberish rush, any sort of control I’d normally have, gone suddenly. And still Indie continued to watch me, a frown creating a ridge between his eyebrows. I understood why he’d be pissed off. I was supposed to be caring for his father, not sleeping on the job. And that feeling of guilt and dread seeped into me, not least because if I lost this job, I wasn’t sure how I’d keep the roof over our heads. I was already struggling, week to week. Day to day.
“Emmie,” he said again, moving to block the way when I tried to get round him. And for a moment, I wanted to cower,unsure of what he would do to me. “Emmie,” his hand moved towards me, and I tried not to flinch.
His touch was gentle. Tentative. His forefinger pushing under my chin, tipping my head up and the pad of his thumb swiping gently under the swelling of the cut. Heat rushed to the spot from where he had disturbed the skin. And from the careful roughness of the pad of his thumb.