AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He squeezes his eyes shut again. He remembers Jess leaving the apartment. Then the knock on the door and Nav standing there. Something about the doctor seemed odd from the word go. His shoulders were stooped, his hands shaking as he put his bag on the floor. He wouldn’t meet his eyes, but Griffin was in so much pain, his body aching so badly, that he hadn’t cared.
“Have you got the pills?” Griffin had asked, collapsing back down on the bed.
Nav had nodded. “But you’ll need something else first. Your withdrawal is more established than I expected.”
Griffin had grunted in agreement. He’d let the doctor roll up his sleeve, put a tourniquet around his arm. He felt the quick cold of the alcohol wipe, then the prick of the needle as it went into his vein.
Then the relief. The blessed all-encompassing rush of euphoria as the opioid hit his bloodstream. He’d felt Nav watching him, and opened his eyes, surprised to see the doctor crying, the syringe and needle still in his hand.
He’d shaken his head. “I’m sorry,” he’d said, backing away from Griffin, then turning and rushing out the door.
Griffin knew something was wrong. He knew what these drugs were like; he’d had enough of them in his system over the past year, but this felt too much. He tried to stand up, but his brain was woozy. He wobbled to his feet. He knew he needed to find his phone, call someone, but the world was sliding sideways. The floor rushed up to his face; he felt the knock to his head as he hit the ground.
Shipman, he’d thought. How could he have been so blind? To let Sharma in to the apartment. Trust him to pump him full of drugs when there was a serial killer on the loose copying murderers from the past.
His face still pressed into the floor, he lifted his hand, and with a shaking finger, ran it in the dust. He managed five letters before he passed out.
* * *
He first woke with a jolt, still in his apartment. Unknown faces staring down at him, medical equipment in their hands. He blinked at them, his vision slowly clearing. Then again: gone.
In the ambulance, awake for longer. He asked about Jess.
“Your friend?” the paramedic replied. “Sorry, mate. She was arrested.”
He swore loudly and tried to sit. The paramedic gently persuaded him back down.
“You’re not out of the woods yet, mate. You’ve had a considerable dose of an opioid. No sooner do we pump Naloxone into you, it wears off and we’re back to square one. Sit tight …”
The guy had been right. He hadn’t been conscious for long.
* * *
And now, here he is. Alive. An IV in his arm, tubes running up to a clear bag on a stand. Oxygen tube under his nose, monitors beeping next to him. He dimly remembers Cara coming in to see him. Reassuring words that he was okay, that she would catch whoever had done this to him.
And then he remembers Jess. Arrested. Probably being interrogated by that pathetic excuse of a detective, Taylor.
“Shit!” he shouts. Then he slumps back on the pillow. “Shit,” he mutters again, quieter now. But at least she’s safe, he thinks. She’s with Cara. She’ll be okay.
At least she’s safe.
CHAPTER
71
JESS IS FROZEN. The video is still playing on the screen, but she can’t focus. She can’t think.
He knew. Somehow that guy knew who she was. He knew what they were going to do.
She racks her brain, trying to think what happened that morning. Did she proposition him? He spoke to her first, she remembers that now. He commented on the weather, something harmless, but then what did he do? Did he smile? Casually drop an indecent remark? Why did they go into that restroom together?
She closes her eyes, tries to calm her breathing. She made the suggestion, but he mentioned the restroom. It’s clear. This whole thing was planned.
This is him.
She has his face on screen. The guy she fucked. The man who set fire to her house. Who killed Patrick. Who killed Griffin’s wife. And all those people.
Her gut rolls and she leans forward, the sparse contents of her stomach suddenly vomited into a bucket. She waits there for a moment, retching, her body heaving, gasping for breath.
