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“Nasty contusion to the head, although on first check it looks superficial. Main problem is the lack of blood and the lacerations to his forearms. That’s where it’s all coming from. You were good to find him when you did. Who knows what might have happened.”
They hear noise, and the paramedic turns. Adam’s fully awake now, cut free from the chair, but writhing under the grip of the men in green. Romilly hurries over.
“Adam! Adam, stop.”
Jamie can see him struggling, looking down at the needles still in his arms. He has never seen that look on his boss’s face before. Desperation. And pure fear.
“Please, please,” Adam cries weakly. “Take them out.”
Romilly kneels in front of him. She takes both his hands, and he calms slightly, his eyes locked on her. Jamie can see the horror on his face. People say they’re scared of heights, of spiders, of snakes, but this is something else. A deep-rooted phobia, terrifying him to his core.
“Please,” he whispers.
“I will,” she replies. “Just stay still. And I will.”
Adam stops moving, but Jamie can see him shaking, tears now tracking clean lines in the dirt on his face. Romilly takes the dressings offered to her, and slowly she removes the needles as Adam squeezes his eyes tightly shut.
“There. Done. All gone.”
Adam opens his eyes and looks. Despite all the blood, the cuts on his arms, he visibly relaxes, and leans forward into Romilly’s outstretched embrace. She holds him. His face rests on her shoulder, eyes closed, completely still, and all around them the paramedics continue their work. Placing dressings on his arms, cleaning up his wounds.
Jamie watches.
The sense of relief is all consuming. Adam has been found. He’ll be okay. But at the same time he feels the discontent. Why hadn’t they been so lucky with Pippa? Why did she have to die while Adam lives?
He turns away from the scene and walks out of the boathouse to the waterfront. It’s a pebble beach, scattered with rocks and seaweed. Quiet, but for the wash of the tide on the shore. Seagulls squawk, their cries loud in the air, like children fighting over the last sweet in a box.
There are a few paths leading away from the boathouse; he picks one and walks fast along it, channeling his anger downward, feet thumping to the ground. Headlights guide his way. His first thought when they found Adam: I must phone her, tell Pippa he’s okay. And the feeling that came after—remembering anew that she had gone, that she would always be gone—crushed him almost as strongly as it had the first time. He knows that it will be like this now. First thing in the morning, reaching out for her. Making a cup of tea, getting one mug out of the cupboard rather than two. Every sunset, every friend’s baby being born, every fucking clichéd happy memory would be his and his alone.
Knowing who killed Pippa and all those other people doesn’t provide the relief he was hoping for. It hasn’t brought his wife back; it only adds fuel to the anger burning in the pit of his stomach.
He tilts his head, staring upward into the night sky. It’s clear and the stars shine bright, easily seen away from the normal glare of civilization. The sight calms him. Pippa believed in God. Not enough to go to church, but she’d say a quiet prayer when times were hard. She thought something, someone, was up there. He hopes so too. So she can be at peace.
Something had been looking out for Adam. Or maybe it had just been him, and good police work.
He turns and looks back to the boathouse where the blue lights of the patrol cars still flash. Flashlights dance in the night sky. He pulls his shoulders straight, for the first time thinking about his future.
He found Adam. He’s a good detective. A fucking great one. He’ll finish this murder investigation. They’ll put Maggie Clarke away, and justice will be served.
Then he’ll apply for that promotion.
He’ll make his wife proud.
CHAPTER
71
ROMILLY KNEELS NEXT to Adam, his hand in hers. He’s still slumped in the same bloody wooden chair, his eyes closed. He holds an oxygen mask to his face. The paramedics mill around. Romilly can tell they’re keen to get him to a hospital. She echoes their thoughts to him.
But he shakes his head.
She looks up at Jamie as he walks back into the boathouse.
“Tell him, Jamie,” she says. “He needs to be seen by a doctor.”
“You’re a doctor,” Adam mutters.
“The appropriate doctor. In a hospital.”
