Page 1 of The Truth Will Out (DI Sam Cobbs #18)

H e reluctantly scribbled on the patient’s notes and inserted the test results into the envelope, glad that his surgery still used the old filing system.

His hatred of working with computers was well known amongst the staff.

They had pleaded with him to update the system rather than remain stuck in his old ways, but his argument had remained the same for years: “What if the computers go down? Where will we be then?”

Robert Morgan tidied his desk and left his office with his dirty cup and medical bag in hand. He gave the receptionist the cup and announced, “I’m off to see Mrs Evans. I’ll go straight home from there. I have a dinner engagement this evening.”

He could tell the receptionist was dying to know more about his social life; however, she had the sense to stay quiet.

He made a point of never discussing his personal life with the staff, and he rarely interacted with them at all.

He had rules and stuck by them. The working day should consist of dealing with the patients and their needs, except in most cases, he rarely did that either.

He knew his manner was brusque at the best of times and often borderline ignorant at others.

His lack of empathy and bedside manner were notorious, not only at the surgery but throughout Workington.

It prevented people from registering with the surgery, which, in turn, made his life easier on a day-to-day basis.

“Goodbye, Doctor Morgan. Enjoy your evening,” Lisa said.

“I will. See you in the morning,” he replied gruffly, then left the surgery.

His black BMW was parked in its usual spot, close to the rear entrance.

After depositing his bag on the back seat, he slipped behind the steering wheel and drove off, not giving the surgery or his staff a second thought, as usual at this time of the day.

His main gripe, when he attended meetings he was forced to go to, was that the other doctors’ conversations centred around their surgeries, mostly the shenanigans their staff got up to, not only at work but during their time off as well.

What concern was it of theirs, or his? That sort of rubbish didn’t affect him, so why should he show any interest in it?

Robert drove out to one of his older patients, whose daughter had rung earlier.

She’d told the receptionist that her mother was unable to get to the surgery, hence his need to fit in a home visit on the way home that afternoon.

He detested seeing patients in their own environments.

Some of his patients’ houses were the pits.

What was it with older people who always used Vicks during the summer as well as the winter months?

He struggled to work that one out. It was a smell that irritated him and generally brought out the worst in him.

He parked up outside the patient’s terraced house on the outskirts of Workington and rang the doorbell. A woman in her fifties opened the door.

“Oh, hello. I’m Doctor Morgan. I’ve come to see Mrs Evans.”

“Ah, yes. Come in, Doctor. I’m her daughter, Vanessa.

Sorry to call you out like this, but Mum has been poorly in bed for a few days.

I’m very concerned about her. I think she has a chest infection.

She’s hardly eaten the last two days. I’ve been really worried about her. She’s not getting any younger.”

“None of us are. Where is she?”

Vanessa stepped behind the door and allowed him to enter. He didn’t suggest removing his shoes. Why should he? It wasn’t wet outside .

“She’s in her bedroom. Can I get you a drink?”

“No, thank you. Would you like to show me the way?”

Vanessa quickly shut the front door and then scooted past him to lead the way up the stairs. At the top, the smell of menthol hit his nostrils and sparked his anger.

“The doctor is here, Mum. Everything will be all right now.”

Mrs Evans turned her head weakly to look at him. “Hello, Doctor. It’s nice of you to come. I haven’t been able to get out of bed in days,” the old woman said, her voice sounding strained.

“Yes, yes. Can you tell me what your symptoms are?”

“My chest hurts when I cough, and my nose won’t stop running. It’s not a cold because I always eat well with a cold. I think it’s something more than that.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, Mrs Evans. Can you sit her up?” he asked Vanessa.

“I can try. Come on, Mum, let’s get you sat up so the doctor can examine you properly.”

Vanessa struggled to get her mother upright. Robert stood back and watched, not offering to assist them. Why should he?

“I can’t, dear,” Mrs Evans croaked just before she started having a coughing fit.

He raised his hand and turned his head away to avoid catching any of the old woman’s germs. It was at times like this that he preferred wearing a mask, like during Covid; at least the rate of colds and chest infections had gone down back then.

He kicked himself for not putting one in his pocket before leaving the car.

He opened his bag to see if there was one hiding in there.

At the bottom, he found one that was still in the packet but scrunched up.

It’ll do for now. He slipped it into position, then stepped forward and placed the stethoscope on the woman’s chest.

“Breathe in… and out.” He did the same on her back and repeated, “In… and out.” Taking a few steps back, he removed the mask and announced, “She has a chest infection. I’ll give you a prescription for antibiotics. That should clear it up within a week or so. ”

“But Mum has COPD, Doctor. Don’t you think she should go to the hospital?”

“No. The hospital is inundated with patients. This isn’t an emergency.”

“I beg to differ,” Vanessa snapped. “Look at her, she can barely breathe, and you think that’s not an emergency? I’ve never heard the like. I’m going to ring 111 and see what they suggest.”

He glared at the irate woman, scribbled a prescription, handed it to her, and then packed his bag.

“Very well. It’s your prerogative. The medication will have you up and about in no time, Mrs Evans, but if your daughter wants to get you out of your comfy bed and to the hospital, then that’s up to her. ”

“I’ll call an ambulance,” Vanessa said.

“Another drain on NHS resources, when I’ve already told you what’s wrong with your mother and written her a prescription.”

“I’m entitled to get a second opinion. My mother is suffering.

The trouble with you doctors is that when people get to a certain age, you write them off.

Well, not on my watch. I intend to make sure she’s treated properly.

Mum isn’t one to fake illnesses. Look at her, she’s suffering and deserves the best care she can get. ”

“She has received such care. I’m sorry you feel she hasn’t.

Do what you need to do. The doctors at the hospital will tell you the same thing.

There are a number of bad infections going around at the moment, but if you’re not prepared to take my word for it, then there’s little I can do to change your mind. I’ll see myself out.”

“Well, I never. Your bedside manner is totally lacking, Doctor. I’ll be writing a complaint about this visit.”

He raised his eyebrows and left the room without saying another word. On his way downstairs, he paused to listen. He heard Mrs Evans pleading with her daughter not to make a fuss.

“Don’t be so ridiculous, Mum, you’re in a right state, and he couldn’t give a toss. I’m not having it.”

“I don’t want the hassle, dear. Can you get my prescription for me and let this be the end of it? ”

“You’re impossible, Mum. You have the right to be treated decently by the doctor.”

He continued his journey down the stairs and left the house, making sure he banged the door on the way out.

Bloody people! They think us doctors haven’t got anything better to do than be at their beck and call every day.

Robert got back into his car and drove towards home.

Halfway there, at a narrow point in the isolated road, his car was struck from behind.

He hadn’t even noticed the van approach him.

He slammed on the brakes and stormed out of the vehicle.

The driver was staring at him, holding his gaze but refusing to leave his van.

“What do you think you’re doing? You bloody moron, didn’t you see me?”

The man stared straight ahead, ignoring him. Robert moved to the front of the van and took a photo of the numberplate, then returned to the driver’s door. It sprang open, knocking him backwards into the hedge.

“What are you doing? There’s no need for you to be angry. You struck me, remember?”

The man, with muscles that would put a bouncer to shame, glared and marched towards him.

Robert’s gut twisted. He hated any form of confrontation. He held his hands up in front of him. “Listen here, I don’t want any trouble. Hand over your insurance details and then we can both be on our way.”

The man’s lips parted into a snarky grin. “That’s all there is to it, is it, mate? Wrong. I’ve got other plans for you.”

Robert saw the man’s fist coming. He tried to dodge it but failed. He was knocked out cold.

Robert opened his eyes, not recognising his surroundings. He tried to sit up, but the restraints across his naked chest, along with the extra ones around his wrists and legs, made it impossible for him to move. “What the hell is going on here? Hello, where are you? ”

He surveyed the room. It was larger than average, with old rusty shelving along one wall.

Most of the ceiling was thick with mildew.

He found the smell, another one he detested, atrocious, and it didn’t take long for him to start sneezing.

The snot trickled down each side of his face.

He had no way of wiping it, not with his hands bound. He was strapped to a metal table.

What the fuck is going on here?

His stomach rumbled. He didn’t have a clue how long he’d been there, or how long he’d been unconscious. Straining an ear, he couldn’t detect any movement outside the room.

Where the hell am I? What does this bloke have planned for me?

He lay there, staring at the ceiling for what seemed like hours until, finally, someone entered the room.

But it wasn’t the man who had knocked him out.

Had he been a hired hand sent to abduct him?

The man wore a mask. He was about a foot shorter than the goon who had rammed his car and assaulted him.

“What’s the meaning of this? Let me go now, and I promise I won’t go to the police.”

The man laughed. “You won’t get the chance.”

“What do you mean? What are your intentions?”

“You helped yourself, didn’t you?”

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Your sort never do. You make me sick. Most of the time, you think you’re so much better than those around you. I’m here to rid you of your delusions.”

“I’m a doctor. I took an oath,” Robert said, his voice hoarse because of the lack of water. “I helped people. I continue to help them. It’s part of my job.”

Footsteps sounded behind him as the man slowly circled the table, each step as meaningful as the last. His laugh echoed. It was low and measured. “No, Doctor. You helped yourself. It was never about your patients, was it?”

“I… no, you don’t understand. Let’s discuss this. I’ll make you see sense.”

Panic thundered in his chest as the man paced menacingly back and forth behind him. The man’s breathing was calm and steady, unlike his own.

“The time for talk is over. Today… you are going to be punished.” The figure stepped out of the shadows and came to a standstill beside him.

The overhead light switched on. It was a fierce light that blinded him. Was there someone else in the room he hadn’t noticed?

The man showed his hands; they were covered in surgical gloves. He was holding a scalpel in his right hand.

Robert shook his head. “Don’t come near me with that thing.”

“Why? Afraid I don’t know how to use it?

Nothing could be further from the truth, Robert Morgan.

I can tell you don’t recognise me. That’s good.

It means you’ll go to your grave not knowing who I am or why I would want to kill you.

Believe me, I have my reasons. Let’s get started, shall we?

You just lie there, nice and relaxed, and everything will go according to plan.

Oops, silly me, I forgot to ask. Do you want a sedative? ”

“Yes… I mean no, you can’t do this to me. I won’t allow you to.”

The masked man took a step closer and poised the scalpel over Robert’s chest.

“No,” Robert screamed. “Don’t do this. Why are you doing this? There must be something I can do to stop you.”

“There isn’t. I’m getting bored now. Just lie there like a good boy. All of this will be over and done with soon enough. Now, are you ready?”

“NO! Please, don’t do this. I don’t know what I’m supposed to have done wrong.

” Robert turned his head away, unable to watch what was coming.

The pain erupted in his chest a moment later.

He screamed for the man to stop the assault, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. The darkness descended not long after…