A Stolen Memory (An Antonia Conti Thriller) by David Beckler

Author:David Beckler [Beckler, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2023-01-18T13:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

The nurse finished tying the bandage round Antonia’s right hand. Although she’d applied ice and compression overnight, by mid-morning the swelling hadn’t subsided, and she’d reluctantly gone to casualty.

‘It’s not broken,’ the nurse said, ‘but you need to elevate it, so we’ll give you a sling. Don’t get the bandages wet and change them every couple of days. Get someone to tie them if you can’t manage it. Swelling should go down in a day or two.’

Antonia thanked him and went to find the police officers she’d arrived with. She found them in the cafeteria. After two attacks in less than three weeks, plus the death of one of her attackers and capture of another, the police took her safety seriously. She’d refused round-the-clock protection, asking they just accompany her to and from work and on any essential journeys. The panic alarm Alan Turner had put in his house after an intruder had taken him hostage there still worked, and they’d tightened security at the offices.

She dozed on the way back to the office. They’d left the police station after three and she’d managed less than four hours of broken sleep. The vivid memory from childhood had reawakened less wholesome ones from her time imprisoned by her mother’s killers. The officers dropped her at the office and, thanking them, she asked them to come back at six and take her to the gym. Although in no shape to train, she’d promised to take Nadimah.

She fumbled with the key, not used to using her left hand, but couldn’t open the door. Frustration boiling over, she rang the bell and Sawyer replied.

‘Sorry, I can’t open the bloody door.’ She held her bandaged hand up to the camera.

‘Mrs Curtis told us to put the bolts on. I’ll come and let you in.’

Careful not to let her frustration, tiredness and the pain affect the way she treated Sawyer, she thanked her and disappeared into her office. She tried to catch up with the work she should have done this morning instead of sitting in casualty for four hours, but her head was full of cotton wool. The pain when she caught her right hand on the edge of her desk made her think they’d examined the wrong X-ray. She wished she hadn’t refused the powerful painkillers they’d offered her.

The police still hadn’t released the names of the people in the helicopter crash, so the story stayed prominent in the news cycle, mainly people speculating about the identity of the victims. Her disclosing a missile had brought the aircraft down would cause a stir. Adam’s account didn’t take long to knock into shape. She added the information she’d got from him last night and changed a few phrases. The advice Turner had always given her when editing her work guided her revisions: ‘Don’t tell the reader what to think, but make sure they see the truth and come to the right conclusions.’

When satisfied, she sent it for proofing before uploading it to their site. She ordered a sandwich and a coffee and while she waited, checked on something Adam had told her.

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