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Cragg moved forward quickly, bending down. A closer inspection revealed the man was sweating. Although the desk sergeant didn’t know him his face was familiar. He had seen him around the town on the odd occasion.
“Are you okay, sir?”
The man flinched at Cragg’s question. Perhaps he’d been attacked, though the desk sergeant could see no evidence of that. But he knew enough about the way people fought these days to know that they didn’t always leave any outward signs.
Cragg put his hands on the man’s shoulder. “Come on, sir, let’s get you up and into a more comfortable position. Can you tell me your name?”
The man pushed Cragg’s arm away – not violently but very gently, considering his size. “I need help.”
“Of course you do,” replied Cragg. “And that’s what I’m here for – to help you. Let’s get you to the other side of the counter into a chair and you can tell me what’s bothering you.”
Once again, he refused Cragg’s help but stared at him. “It’s not me that needs help, it’s her.”
“Who?” The situation had suddenly grown more urgent. Cragg needed answers. “Who needs help?”
“My wife.” The man suddenly sunk to the ground, placing his head in his hands. “Oh, God, no.”
Cragg put his arm on the man’s shoulder. “Please, sir, I need to know what’s going on. Who are you?”
Cragg was about to ask another question when the man suddenly spoke. “Robbie Carter.”
“Good, Robbie. Well done. Now, can you tell me your wife’s name?”
Robbie Carter rubbed his hands down his face. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes. “Jane. It’s Jane.” There was a pause. “I think she might be dead.”
“Dead?” Cragg repeated. “You think your wife is dead?”
Robbie Carter lifted his hands and grabbed Maurice Cragg’s shoulders. He started talking, fast, as if he was reading out bullet points.
“I’d been out all night. Came home. On the floor, she was on the floor, in the bedroom.” His breathing turned to sobs. “Place has been burgled. Mess all over. I think she’s dead, sergeant. She needs help.”
Cragg stood up quickly. Staring into Robbie’s eyes, he said: “Mr Carter, I want you tell me where you live... now! It’s very important, please tell me where you live.”
“Swansea Court – number two.”
“That’s out near the leisure centre and the school, isn’t it?”
Carter simply nodded.
Cragg moved faster than he had done in years. Around the other side of the counter he picked up the phone and dialled the hospital. When the receptionist answered he barely gave her time to take a breath.
“Louise, it’s Maurice Cragg at the station. I need an ambulance and I need it now. Two Swansea Court. There’s no time to waste: woman upstairs on the bedroom floor. Her name is Jane. Her husband says she may be dead – he doesn’t seem sure. He’s very distressed. Quick as you can.”
“Right away, Mr Cragg.”
Cragg replaced the receiver and came back around the counter. Robbie Carter was still kneeling on the floor. “Mr Carter, I have to ask. Have you seen the offender at all?”
Robbie didn’t say anything.
“Mr Carter, I need you to tell me everything you can. It’s important.”
Robbie stared vacantly ahead, past Cragg.
The desk sergeant couldn’t take any chances. He couldn’t allow an ambulance crew into a dangerous situation, so he came around the counter and through into the back room. The television had warmed up and the episode of Armchair Theatre he’d planned to watch was well under way.
He grabbed the handset on the radio and called the patrol car.
The radio crackled in reply. “What can I do for you, Sarge?”
