Nowhere to Run - Constance Fairchild Series 03 (2021) by Oswald James

Author:Oswald, James [Oswald, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

◆◆◆

Diane Shepherd appears early the next morning. I don’t know what they’re giving me through my IV drip, but it dulls the pain enough for me to rest. Unfortunately, it also scrambles my brain a bit, which isn’t all that helpful given how fractured my memories already are.

‘You look like you’ve been in a car crash,’ is the first thing Shepherd says, which is about par for the course with her. No ‘Hello, Con – how are you?’ or any other niceties.

‘I feel like I’ve been in a car crash. Or maybe gone ten rounds in the ring with …’ I stop speaking when it occurs to me I can’t remember the names of any boxers. Shepherd doesn’t comment.

‘We need to know what happened. Establish a timeline of events. I understand you went to speak to Dai and Ellen Young at Twmp Farm, asking about one of their neighbours. Where did you go after that?’

I look around the room to try and cover up the fact that my brain is moving particularly slowly. It’s a nice room, away from the bustle of most of the hospital. Karen’s stepped outside, and the door’s closed. Just me and the boss.

‘I … I went home. To the cottage.’ I do my best to replay the scene in my head, all too aware that there are sizeable chunks missing. ‘I had supper, did a bit of work, then went to bed.’

Shepherd nods as if checking my account off against something she already knows. ’So how do you think you ended up on the beach a little more than twenty-four hours later?’

‘I don’t… What?’ My sluggish mind catches up. ’Twenty-four hours? I thought I was found the next morning.’

Shepherd shakes her head. If she’s not careful it’ll fall off at this rate. ‘No. We met you on the Wednesday at the Botanics. I was expecting a call back on the Thursday, didn’t push it until the Friday because we all know you’re not the most reliable when it comes to answering your phone?’

‘I was found on Friday morning, then.’ I have no idea what day of the week it is now.

‘Half past five. A couple from the caravan park out walking their dog. Bloody lucky they found you when they did. Another hour and you’d likely have been dead.’

I stare at the ceiling tiles for a moment. Something about Shepherd’s words rings untrue. I wouldn’t have been dead because I’d already died. But that makes no sense.

‘Did you maybe go for a night walk along the cliffs again?’ Shepherd asks, and there’s another question unspoken behind that one.

‘What do you…?’

‘I know you were having bad dreams. Worse than that. Night terrors and panic attacks, wasn’t it?’ And now I detect a softening in Shepherd’s voice, a genuine concern. She’s ex-military, she understands about PTSD better than most. That’s why she’s been so accommodating this past year, giving me the time and space to heal. ‘You should have told me it wasn’t getting any better, Con. We could have arranged for more therapy.

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