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Chapter 21
Shona was on her way home. Ravi and Kate had completed the interview with Wazir and the fiscal had approved the theft charge. He would go to court in the morning. Wazir had identified Isla and Sami as the two other people in the baby milk CCTV photographs. A lawyer had advised he apply for asylum and Shona had asked for protected custody as a potential witness, while her enquiries were ongoing. Finally, they had their baby milk thieves, but Wazir had remained tight-lipped about the traffickers and they were still no nearer to finding out who had killed Sami and Isla. She hoped for an update soon from Dan, saying he’d tracked down the elusive Buckland. Maybe the boy Jamie would bring them a step closer to the answer.
The low, late September sun shone directly in her eyes as she headed west along the A75. It caught every rise and undulation of the land, painting it with soft purple shadows and turning the wind-blown grass on the roadside to a fiery, flickering fringe. Shona thought of the estuary and the curlew’s call on the mudbanks. She looked forward to the view from home.
The phone rang, showing Becca’s name. She clicked the hands-free button on the steering wheel. ‘I’m on my way back, darlin’. Be with you shortly.’
Becca’s breath came ragged and uneven through the speaker. ‘Mum… Mum.’
Shona felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck. ‘What’s wrong? Are you okay?’
‘I was on my bike… I fell… a car hit me,’ Becca said, the wind-noise almost overwhelming her weak voice.
‘Where are you?’ Shona sat forward straining to catch every detail.
‘On the top road… near the farm.’ Becca sobbed. ‘I can’t… get up.’
‘Stay on the line, darlin’. I’m putting you on hold to call help. Don’t hang up.’ Shona flicked the controls and dialled 999. ‘This is DI Oliver, Dumfries CID, I need an ambulance. RTA on the B712 by Mainsgill Farm. Casualty is a fifteen-year-old female cyclist. Attending. ETA,’ Shona glanced at the clock on the dashboard, ‘ETA, fifteen minutes.’ She switched the call back to Becca. ‘I’m coming, Becca, stay where you are. Keep talking to me. I’m coming.’ Then she floored the accelerator and pulled out, overtaking a lorry and several cars, flashing her headlights at an oncoming tractor before leaving the A75 and weaving through the tight lanes.
‘Where are you?’ Shona searched the road ahead, lined on each side with solid, drystone walls, but could see nothing. Then she gasped; the pink metal paintwork of Becca’s mountain bike lay crumpled like a sweet wrapper against the moss-green of the verge. ‘I see you, I see you.’ Shona pulled the Audi to a halt, grabbed her phone and flew out of the car. ‘Jesus.’
Becca was lying in a shallow ditch. She was dirty and wet, blood smeared across her face. She clutched her right arm, which flopped at an odd angle, the bone above her wrist protruding through the skin. Her bike helmet lay next to her showing a long split where it had struck the loose granite stones on a tumbled section of the wall.
‘Becca.’ Shona choked back a sob, tearing off her suit jacket and folding it under her head. ‘The ambulance is coming. Where are you hurt?’
‘My arm.’ Becca tried to sit up. ‘My head hurts.’ Her skin was clammy and waxy white, the skin around her eyes and mouth blueish. Shona was afraid she was going into shock. She glanced at the shattered helmet and tried not to imagine what it signified. How bad was her head injury? Stay calm, deal with what you see.
‘Don’t move,’ Shona warned her. She quickly assessed her daughter’s condition, then ran back to the car for the first aid box and the thick tartan blanket she kept in the boot. She covered her, wrapping a triangular bandage loosely over Becca’s wounded arm. Becca sobbed, biting her lip in pain, but she let her mother continue. ‘Okay, okay, it’s done,’ Shona reassured her. ‘Got to get you warm. Can you tell me what happened?’
‘I was going up to the farm for eggs. A car hit me. Drove off.’ Becca blinked slowly. She was shaking, letting go now that her mother was here. Cold, and dropping adrenaline levels were taking their toll.
‘Did you know who it was? Did you recognise the car?’ Shona was keeping her conscious and distracted from the pain. She dialled Rob’s number. He was close by, at High Pines. Why hadn’t Becca called him?
‘No one comes up here, ’cept the farmer.’ Becca’s words were slurred.
‘Your dad’s not answering.’
‘Out… with Uncle Sandy.’
Shona needed Rob, here, now. But there were other people she could rely on in an emergency. Her lifeboat family. Skipper Tommy McCall answered on the first ring. ‘Becca’s hurt, accident on Mainsgill Farm Road. Bring a spinal board.’
Tommy was there in minutes, his white Ford Transit van roaring up the tarmac track and pulling in behind Shona’s car. ‘For goodness’ sake, Becca. What have you done to you
r mother now? She’s enough to do catching robbers without you flinging yourself off bikes.’ Tommy stroked Becca’s hair back from her forehead, feeling the clammy skin and the rapid pulse beneath her chin. She gave him a weak smile in return. He confirmed Shona’s diagnosis of concussion and compound tib-fib fracture. ‘Pop this on for me, Becca, just to protect your neck.’ He slipped the cervical collar over her head while Shona contacted the control room via Tommy’s VHS radio.
‘Ambulance is still thirty minutes away.’
‘I’m not happy with her condition,’ Tommy said quietly, his face grim. ‘Let’s get her onto the spinal board. We could call the helicopter, but it will be quicker to make our own way there. Agreed?’ He waited for Shona to nod, then he turned back to Becca.
‘Och, let’s not wait for the slow-pokes,’ he said, loudly. ‘Becca fancies a ride in my van. Don’t you, pet?’ Becca looked back at him through half-closed eyes. ‘Listen,’ he said, half under his breath to Shona, ‘I can’t give her any gas and air, Entonox is contra-indicated for head injuries. Don’t want her to slip under. Understand?’
Shona nodded, biting her lip. Then she squeezed her daughter’s good hand. ‘We’re off to hospital, but we need to get you comfy for the ride,’ she said brightly. ‘I want you to take big breaths and be a brave girl for me.’
Becca cried out as they slid the orange plastic board beneath her. Shona could feel the panic rising in her own chest. Now Tommy was here, and Becca’s rescue was not her sole responsibility, the anguish she felt as Becca’s mother was pushing at her composure as a police officer. It threatened to burst through, as unstoppable as the Solway tide. She swallowed hard and forced herself to smile. Becca was whimpering, rivulets of tears forming paths through the blood and dirt on her face.
‘Not long now,’ Shona said, watching Tommy run to the van, turn it round then jump out again to fling open the rear doors ready to load Becca inside. She tried Rob’s phone again meanwhile, cursing under her breath as it rang out before resorting to voicemail.
‘Let’s go.’ Tommy lifted the bottom of the stretcher, Shona the head, murmuring a stream of reassurance to Becca. They slid her into the centre of the van, between the old fishing nets, wet-weather gear and boxes of spare parts. Shona jumped in beside her as Tommy closed the doors and ran round to the driver’s side. As they set off, Shona updated the 999-control centre that they were on their way in with the casualty.
