Chapter 11

Return ticket

TIM KICKED his heels in the hospital waiting room; every emotion racked him from anxiety and frustration through to weariness. All he could do was wait and hope. He had followed the ambulance under police escort through red lights and heavy evening traffic but could barely remember anything of the journey, his eyes focused on the back doors of the flying ambulance. He wasn’t allowed to accompany his wife all the way to where they were working on her in the theatre; he had to wait for the experts to bring his wife and unborn child back to life, then back to him. He coped by believing that Michelle would pull through, any other possibility was not worth considering. He occupied himself by calling everyone who should know in the meantime and, in ones and twos and more, they came to wait with him. Michelle’s parents arrived first with Geoff and Lesley with their children immediately behind, followed by others as the night wore on. Finn, who was staying at the Jones’ house during the Easter college holidays, followed along a little later with his fiancée Abbey on his arm and they embraced him in turn. While Abbey joined her anxious parents, Finn stood with his back to them and quietly handed Tim a mobile phone. Tim lifted his eyebrows.

“It’s a new and anonymous pay-as-you-go phone, supplied by Ammo.” The Scot spoke very softly, his lips close to Tim’s ear as they embraced in consolation in Tim’s moment of need. “It is completely untraceable to you. Ammo is the main contact for operations while Malc is calling in all his favours from his contacts; all your friends are tracking the culprits down. No stone’ll be left unturned. They’ll take care of everything. Roger and Geoff know nothing. You, Roger, Geoff and me, as family connected to Michelle, will stay out of it completely so we are not implicated in whatever develops. OK wee man?”

Tim nodded his thanks, “They have escalated this thing too far, this has to be an end to it,” he whispered back. Finn nodded his silent assent and Tim put the phone in his pocket.

“ ... She virtually shut her life support system down to hibernation level, it seems, both to protect herself and the baby; she will probably only remember what happened at a deep subconscious level, if at all,” the younger of the two doctors droned on to Tim in the doctor’s cluttered office, “Hopefully she will be able to put this horrible experience behind her on her way to full recovery.”

Tim could barely hear what the doctor was saying. He had not slept for 45 hours and the adrenaline that had kept him going thus far was already draining from his blood in relief. The only thoughts running through his head were that his babies were fine, both his beloved Chelle and their unborn child were going to be OK and would be awake soon, neither of them any more than superficially the worse for wear for their horrific ordeal. The doctor had mentioned tests for sexually transmitted diseases, which had so far returned negative results, but they would continue to be monitored for any latent problems. Her mental health was uncertain but the appropriate consultant was on hand, briefed, he assured Tim, to make her assessments once Michelle was in a position to be able to respond. They walked back towards the private side room where Michelle lay. The clinical consultant wanted one last check before leaving Tim alone with his slowly awakening wife. Tim stumbled, the fatigue catching up with him. The older of the two consultants, old enough to be Tim’s father, fully aware of the ordeal he had been through, caught his arm, steadying him. Tim smiled wanly at him and the doctor nodded back without expression, but he maintained the steadying grip on Tim’s arm until they reached the room. Inside, Jenny and Abbey were maintaining their watchful vigil, both looking dog-tired, almost to the limit of their endurance. In the waiting area at the other end of the corridor, Tim could see Roger lying down on a bench seat, while Finn stood pacing up and down. Finn waved when he saw Tim and he nodded in reply. Geoff, Tim knew, had returned to work today after going home for the first time since their ordeal began and getting a night’s sleep last night. Lesley was at home looking after their children. The family members, both the Smiths and the Jones, had done all they could to support the couple in their time of need. Minutes later the consultants left the room silently, the older one with a small, satisfied smile on his face, barely expressing the delight he felt at the satisfactory outcome of this particular case, as he closed the door quietly behind them.

Michelle looked so beautiful lying there, Tim thought; if you ignored the black eye, split lower lip and the bruised cheek. Her skin colour was so much better than a couple of days before and the air tubes that had initially maintained her air intake had been removed. Michelle was breathing without any additional aid and appeared unlaboured. She looked at peace, as if she was having a much-needed rest, the slight rise and fall of her chest ample testimony to her returning vitality, the large bump below still holding the promise of an additional life to come.

The police detective, Sergeant Oliver Norris, looked just about as uncomfortable as he felt. He stood there shifting from foot to foot, wrestling with what to say to the husband of the victim. He had ended up exactly like this the last time he had confronted Mr Timothy Smith. That was over two years ago, he remembered with a grimace. That conversation had begun with so much promise and ended extremely unsatisfactorily, in fact even now he hadn’t long gotten over the ramifications of that misguided attempt to get one over on the notorious Smith family. He hoped this time the result would turn out better but he had no great hopes in that direction. This wasn’t even his case but he had been asked to do this task and he was never shy of responding to a difficult challenge.

Tim stood next to Norris just outside Michelle’s room, so their conversation didn’t disturb her while he could also keep an eye out to respond to her if she awoke while he was outside the room. He was loath to leave her alone, especially now that he had sent the Jones’ family in its entirety home to rest, but recognised the need to be kept abreast of what the police were doing with their investigations. Michelle had been drifting in and out of various levels of consciousness all morning without being sufficiently awake to recognise or respond to him and this intrusion from the police officer was an unwelcome and unnecessary one. Tim recalled the cell phone call from Ammo late last night. Three of the bastards were caught. Toby, though, got away, leaving one or two leads to follow. There was a fifth man involved too; he now found out. The three culprits questioned didn’t know who he was; Toby had brought him along, apparently for the ride. The three had now been taken care off and were already ... underground, Ammo had said.

Tim looked at Michelle through the window. Norris followed his eyes and looked through the glass. It was easier to talk, thought Norris, not having to look into Tim’s eyes. He began.

“We’ve had the DNA results through, and have identified three of the perpetrators as the same three guys from that alley incident a couple of years ago, if you remember.” Of course he would remember, Norris thought, permitting himself a grim smile, he was there, wasn’t he? They both knew that but neither could admit as much. Norris actually had a grudging respect for this man, beating three determined thugs, each of them half his age, inflicting serious bodily harm and barely receiving a scratch. And now this, this obscenity was more than he would wish on the worst villain he’d ever had to deal with.