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Jess sensed his disapproval from the brevity of his message.
Yes. I’m sorry. I need you to check I’m okay.
The dots again. Then: I’m not a damn mechanic. The brain is tricky, and I can’t see what’s going on in there. Come to the hospital.
I can’t. I’ll be arrested, she replied. Then she typed back the words she knew would get him there. Fine. Don’t worry.
He arrived at the apartment, pissed off and scowling. Nav had come to her aid more times than she could count over the years, patching her up, checking her over, but it had always been on the edge of what was acceptable for a doctor to do. Never something this bad. And never when there had been this much risk.
He pushed past her into the room.
“Sit down,” he barked. “And where the hell am I?”
Jess didn’t answer the question, just did what she was told. He grabbed another chair and sat in front of her, pulling a penlight out of his bag and shining it in her eyes.
“Watch me,” Nav said. He shone the light into each eye in turn as she looked at his face. He seemed stern, concentrating. He moved it left and right, then up and down. He placed a warm hand gently on her forehead. “Look at my finger.”
She watched as he’d moved it in an H shape in front of her eyes. She knew the neuro exam back to front, she’d done it so many times. He carried on and she followed his instructions, sticking her tongue out, shrugging her shoulders, holding her arms out and closing her eyes. She resisted his pressure on her arms, then her legs when he asked her to. She touched her finger to her nose, then to his finger, doing it over and over again.
“Have you had any problems with your vision?” he asked, gruffly.
“Just some blurriness. Felt dizzy a few times.”
“No loss of consciousness? No slurred speech?”
“I fainted briefly.”
“Been sick?”
“No.”
He sighed. “You seem fine,” Nav muttered. “I downloaded your CT scan from when you first arrived in the hospital, and it was clear. But there could be anything going on since then. Expanding hematoma, increasing intracranial pressure? And without knowing how much pain you’re in …” His voice tailed off.
“Come back with me,” Nav continued. “We won’t go to the police, I promise. I need to know …” He’d stopped. “I need to be sure this is okay,” he said, pointing to her head. “It’s important you’re okay.”
She knew Nav was right. He didn’t have to go through the list of medical complications; she was worried enough already. Overwhelming tiredness overtook her. Sitting in that apartment, her body felt gritty; the clothes she was wearing, the ones from the hospital, were uncomfortable. She looked at the pile of photos of dead women on the table, wondering what insanity she’d gotten herself into.
She looked around the room, seeing it with fresh eyes. Griffin was a grown man, living in a one-room studio apartment, if it could even be described as that. The furniture was old, worn out. And where was his wife? What did she know about him, really?
She knew it was the right thing to do.
So now, here she is. She’s had a sleep and instantly feels better. Being with Nav, at his house, is everything she wants.
She sits up, her mouth furry, her head groggy. She glances at the clock: 4:35 PM. It’s been seven hours. The whole day has passed without her noticing.
Jess pulls herself to her feet. She slowly walks down the stairs and into the kitchen. Nav smiles when he sees her.
“Feel any better?” he asks.
“Not much.” Jess feels grubby, a layer of dirt under her clothes. “Can I have a bath?”
Nav goes toward the bathroom, but she waves him back. “I know where it is,” she says. “I’ll figure everything out.”
He nods. “Dinner will be about an hour. And I got you these.”
He passes her a Tesco carrier bag, and she looks inside. There’s a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, a sweater, some socks, and underwear.
“They’re not great, and I had to guess at your size—” he says, but she cuts him off.
