The Last Book. A Thriller by Michael Collins

Author:Michael Collins [Collins, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: tinku
ISBN: 9780987206305
Published: 2011-09-27T04:30:00+00:00

17. St Vincent’s Hospital, Sydney

You can die in hospital

Kristen loved the sun’s delicious heat, especially after paddling through the bay’s cooling depths and emerging from the glassy water, dripping, thirsty and ready for a long gin and tonic and a sly nap behind the enormous shades Cara bought her.

It was a terrible thirst she felt right now. Too much time in the salty water, you fool, she thought trying to stretch. Maybe Cara will be the ultimate girlfriend and hand me a drink. She tries to speak, call out, and the words won’t come. Her lips are dry, feeling blistered and swollen. Her head aches horribly. Oh, no, we’ve fallen asleep in the sun, again. Feel numb—my toes, my fingers—why can’t I move anything?

Kristen squeezed her eyes open, closing them with a moan as harsh light seared her retinas. Her heart raced and then settled, the sedatives automatically kicking in. It’s a dream, a weird dream. She remembered the part before the beach—a mass of grinding, tearing metal with her inside, screaming as it tumbled through the air. Remembering—not a dream. The staring, impassive face, as the car—a Merc—pulled alongside hers just before the end. Horribly scarred. A twisted mouth, and cruel eyes, so very cruel.

This time her eyes snapped open and she squinted. A room. White mostly. Medical equipment. Where the fuck is this? Kristen could feel her body now—floaty—nice really. She experimented, lifting her left hand. It was bruised and sprouted a hedgehog of wires and tubes—not so nice. She allowed her eyes to travel further. A bank of monitors beeped and flickered on a trolley to her right with an open door beyond. She sees a corridor with white coats floating past. Definitely a hospital, but where? She felt her furry teeth under her tongue. It was twice its normal size. And for how many hours?

Kristen looked around the bed for a call button. She had to tell them about Zach. She felt terrible. The poor bugger had been handcuffed to his desk all day.

*

Down the corridor, Jack Dalton’s eyes were busy even as he sipped his coffee. The yachting magazine on his knee was partly for show and partly to remind him that in three months time his life would change forever.

Jack was so close to retirement it made him shiver. After almost thirty years in law enforcement and the last ten in the Australian Federal Police, he was ready to turn his back on all the idiots, scum and dross of society who’d interrupted his sleep, given him stress ulcers, and strained his marriage a thousand times. He would turn in his badge, step aboard the brand-spanking new Island Packet 440 yacht with his long suffering wife, Stella, and happily never see another gun as long as he lived.

At ten in the morning, the corridor outside the intensive care unit was busy, but he’d been outside Corsfield’s door for a week now and had got used the hustle and bustle. It had taken a couple

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