Dead Man's Hands: A Yorkshire Murder Mystery (DCI Harry Grimm Crime Thrillers Book 15) by David J. Gatward

Author:David J. Gatward [Gatward, David J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Weirdstone Publishing
Published: 2023-08-30T16:00:00+00:00

EIGHTEEN

When Gordy came to, it took a few moments for her to realise where she was. At first, all she could make out were bright lights, but then shapes drew themselves from the brightness and soon she could see that she was on a bed. An annoying beeping sound came to her. She had no idea what it was, but what she knew she wanted to find it and stop it and never hear it again. Then more shapes emerged, grey blobs making odd whale-like noises at her from what she assumed were faces.

‘Gordy?’

The voice. She recognised the voice, which was good, so she held onto that, kept staring at where the voice was coming from, tried to remember who it belonged to.

‘It’s okay, you’re fine. It’s not as bad as we thought. You’re very lucky.’

Gordy was confused, disorientated, and a fist of panic reached into her chest and squeezed her heart. What’s not as bad as we thought? What’s happened? Where the hell am I?

‘… leg, and concussion. You’ll have to stay in for a while, just to monitor your condition, but somehow, and we don’t know how, yet, maybe we never will, when the car hit you, you rolled over the bonnet, and that sort of launched you, like a ramp they think, and—’

‘Anna?’

Yes, that was it, Gordy realised. The voice was Anna’s! She felt hands grab her own, squeeze them.

‘It’s me, Gordy.’

‘Where am I? What’s happened? We were at that nature reserve, weren’t we?’

‘We were.’

‘And now we’re not.’

‘No.’

‘Your face is scratched. Have you been gardening again?’

Gordy watched as Anna lifted a hand to her face and touched the scratches.

‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘No, not gardening. It’s nothing. I promise. I’ve been so worried …’

Gordy was about to ask what about, when she saw that there was another figure in the room as well. They were standing behind Anna and against the wall, just far enough away to imply that whoever they were, they were giving them some privacy. But her vision was a little blurry, and she couldn’t quite make out who it was.

‘Who’s that?’ she asked.

Anna glanced over her shoulder.

The shadow behind her lifted a hand and waved.

‘Now then, Gordy,’ he said.

‘That’s Dave,’ said Anna. ‘Harry sent him.’

‘Harry sent Dave? What on earth for? I don’t understand!’

And she didn’t, and now that panic was starting to spread, and Gordy had the sudden urge to get up, get out, and run like hell.

She pulled her hands from Anna’s, looked around, the room now fully in focus, and realisation poured over her like molten metal.

‘What the hell am I doing in hospital? Anna? Why am I here? What’s happened? What’s going on?’

Gordy was suddenly and acutely aware of everything around her, and not just the bed and that irritating beep, either. There were other sounds now, of people rushing around, of machines huffing and beeping and ticking and whirring. Smells came to her, none of them pleasant, a nose-curling cocktail of bleach and disinfectant, hot food, body odour, and stale coffee.

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