Page 17 of The Scene of the Crime (Jessica Russell #1)

‘Any brain injury is challenging, and the outcome is difficult to predict. Many factors are involved, including the severity of injury, age, prior functional levels and the onset of secondary complications. Fortunately, even with the most severe cases of brain damage, there is always a chance of recovery.’

‘Isn’t that just another way of saying he has a fifty-fifty chance?’

‘Yes, you could put it that way. But I assure you, we will do everything we can for Johan.’

Michelle started to cry. Doctor Babu reached over to a table by his side, picked up a leaflet and handed it to Michelle.

‘This leaflet has phone numbers for family support services and counsellors should you need them. On the back is the ICU number . . . you can call us for an update on Johan’s condition anytime.’

‘Can I see him?’

‘Yes, but I must warn you, he is connected to a ventilator to assist his breathing, IV drips and monitors. Due to his head injuries and swelling, he will look very different from the last time you saw him, but with time, the swelling will recede. I would recommend comforting him by talking softly and touching his hand. I will speak with the nurse, who will take you to see him.’

‘Thank you, Doctor Babu, and for all the care you are giving my husband,’ Michelle said. When he left, she looked at Jessica, still in tears. ‘It’s going to be so hard seeing him if he’s unrecognisable.’

‘Would you like me to come with you?’

‘I don’t want to keep you from your work.’

‘I’m more concerned about you right now.’

‘Well, if you don’t mind, thank you.’

‘Is there anyone you’d like me to call who can be here for you?’

‘It’s OK, thanks. I take it I won’t be able to go into my house for a while?’

‘We are still examining the scene, but hopefully we will be finished sometime tomorrow. I can arrange for an officer or one of my team to assist you in getting some clothes and anything else you need from the house.’

‘It’s fine, thanks. I’ll go to Holly’s house. She’s my sister. My mother said she’d tell her what’s happened, but I’ll call her later.’

‘Can I ask you a personal question?’

Michelle looked puzzled. ‘OK . . .’

‘I noticed one of the rooms in your house looked like it might be used as a baby’s room . . . are you pregnant?’ Michelle didn’t look as if she was.

Michelle started to well up again. ‘Yes, nearly four months . . . and expecting a boy.’ She placed a protective hand over her stomach and seemed about to say something when she began to gasp, overcome with tears.

‘With the stress you’re under right now, it might be worth telling Doctor Babu. He could arrange for you to have an ultrasound to make sure everything is OK.’

Michelle nodded. ‘I’ll do that.’ They exchanged phone numbers and Michelle gave Jessica her sister’s details. Jessica also gave Michelle DI Chapman’s number and explained she didn’t have DCI Anderson’s but she would text it as soon as possible.

As they approached Johan’s bed, Michelle began to shake and Jessica put a steadying arm around her shoulder.

Looking at the figure on the bed, surrounded by tubes and wires, she would never have recognised the man in the hunting photo.

His face was grotesquely swollen, looking like a balloon that was about to burst.

‘Oh my poor Johan, what have they done to you?’ Michelle sobbed, collapsing into the chair next to the bed. She looked up at Jessica with a helpless expression. ‘God, I feel so useless right now. If Johan had come with me to Lancashire, or I’d been at home . . .’

‘You mustn’t blame yourself in any way, Michelle,’ Jessica said firmly. ‘You are not responsible for the actions of others.’

‘I’m frightened to touch him.’

‘I’ll help you.’ Jessica took Michelle’s right hand and gently placed it on Johan’s left.

As they touched, Michelle became even more distressed. ‘Please don’t die, Johan. I need you . . . I can’t live without you.’

Jessica felt herself welling up as memories of her mother’s last moments flooded her mind. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself, and made a silent vow to find whoever was responsible for what had happened to Johan De Klerk.

*?*?*

Walking to her car, Jessica recalled the last week of her mother’s life, eighteen months earlier. She was fifty-seven. It was the usual Sunday get-together at the bungalow in Petts Wood. Eileen had cooked roast beef, vegetables and giant Yorkshire puddings filled with gravy.

She’d hardly touched her own plate and Jessica had noticed that their mother’s skin looked yellow and she’d lost a lot of weight.

When she mentioned her concerns to David, he agreed and told Jessica he’d also noticed their mum wincing in pain and struggling when walking up the stairs or doing anything strenuous.

He’d asked her if she was unwell, but she brushed it off as the symptoms of menopause.

David hadn’t known that women generally put on weight during menopause.

They persuaded Eileen to go to her GP. The only appointment available was in two weeks, and David said he could take Eileen as it was in the afternoon after his work.

When the day of the appointment came, Jessica vividly remembered her brother calling her while she was at a crime scene, thinking it was to tell her what the GP had said.

‘I’m at the Princess Royal Hospital with Mum,’ David had said, a tremor in his voice.

‘I thought you were going to the doctor’s?’

‘That’s why we’re here. The GP said Mum had jaundice, and it might be from a liver infection.

He told us to go straight to the emergency department for tests.

When we got here, they took some blood and urine samples, then an hour later they said Mum’s blood test showed some anomalies and she needed to have a CT scan. ’

‘They’re probably just covering themselves. They wouldn’t want to tell you one thing and then discover it’s something else. At least we know Mum’s in safe hands.’

‘I think you should come. You know more about these things than I do.’ He sounded desperate.

She remembered arriving at the hospital and joining a pale-faced David in the waiting room. ‘Any news?’ she asked, sitting down beside him.

‘They’ve done the CT scan, but now they’re doing an MRI.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know . . . I’m not a bloody doctor!’ he snapped.

Jessica vividly remembered the doctor entering the room, prompting David to jump out of his chair, demanding to know what was wrong with their mother.

The doctor informed them that Eileen had been moved to a bed in a private side room and wanted to speak with them.

As David grew increasingly frustrated, firing off question after question, the doctor just repeated that their mother wished to talk to them.

She could recall entering the room with David and seeing their mother sitting upright in bed.

Eileen greeted them with a loving smile, though it was evident she had been crying.

David stood on one side of the bed while she stood on the other, and Eileen took hold of their hands.

What she said was forever etched in both their memories.

‘I have cancer in my bones and liver, which is inoperable. The doctor said they could arrange end-of-life care for me at home, but I don’t want to be a burden to you.’

David froze with shock, then broke down in floods of tears, repeatedly insisting that the doctors were wrong and that she wasn’t going to die. Eileen squeezed his hand tighter.

‘I’m sorry, but there’s nothing the doctors or anyone else can do for me, even if I had seen them weeks ago.’

In her forensic work, through focusing on the job in hand and practising meditation, Jessica had learned to set aside her feelings when dealing with death.

Knowing she had an important job to do and that her efforts often comforted the grieving also helped her cope.

But when she was told her mother was going to die it felt like her heart had been ripped out.

Three days later, Jessica and David were again by Eileen’s side as she peacefully passed away. It felt like their mother had been taken from them in the blink of an eye.

*?*?*

Driving to Barking, Jessica thought about what Michelle had said, how she must have prosecuted or defended men and women who were capable of violent crimes but learned to detach herself from the horrific acts they were accused of.

But when tragedy is close to you, really part of you, detachment seems impossible.

Jessica had learned that. And now Michelle was learning it, too.

But her mother’s death, and being abandoned by her father, weren’t the only traumatic events Jessica had had to deal with in her life.

In her interview for the MSCAN job, she had only given brief details about the sexual assault she had suffered.

And the road to recovery had been a long one.

It was only through counselling and many hours of yoga and meditation that she had learned how to deal with her feelings.

And, of course, focusing her attention on her work.

And that, she knew, more than ever, was what she had to do now.

Having learned the extent and brutality of Johan’s injuries from Doctor Babu, Jessica wondered if the person who entered the De Klerks’ house had done so with the sole intent of killing or causing severe injuries to Johan.

If so, had taking the contents of the safe and the watch been done to make things look like a burglary gone wrong?

Although it was possible, stealing first and then trying to kill Johan just didn’t make sense.

Jessica tapped the steering wheel, wondering if she had overlooked or misinterpreted something in her scene analysis.

And there was another question: why did someone want Johan De Klerk dead?