John Harvey: Cutting Edge

Her first thought, as she sat up in bed, it was someone on the way home from the pub, kids coming out of the Marcus Garvey Center; once before a neighbor across the street had a brick thrown through her window, some people’s idea of fun.

But this had not been at the front, the sound had come from the back.

Sarah stood at the door to the bedroom, eased the door open and held her breath. Nothing moved below: no light save that from the street which filtered through the front room curtains and the pebbled glass above the front door.

Still she waited.

It need not have been her house at all, it could as easily have been next door. It could have been someone throwing stones from the field. If it had been a burglar, it was possible she had already frightened him off; or he could be down there, waiting. For what? Part of her wanted to turn round and get back into bed, pull the covers up over her head. Whatever she had downstairs that was worth taking, let him take it. Not for the first time, she cursed herself for not having a phone point put in the bedroom. Even so, surely that’s what she should do, go downstairs and telephone the police.

“What they all still had”-sweat was beading along Ridgemount’s lip, running into the corners of his eyes and making them sting-“was their liberty to do as they chose, have affairs with other women, other men, go off and study, anything they liked and I was trapped by what had happened to me and what had happened to me was their fault.

“So I watched that nurse, the way he would come on laughing and joking all the time with the other nurses and patients, always letting on like there was never a care in the world. No, you’re fine, nothing’s going to happen to you. Nothing’s going to go wrong, you take my word for it, you trust me, this operation’s going to be the best thing ever happened to you, put another ten years on your active life.”

“And that young woman, the one whose job it was to make sure that anesthetic machine’s working right, she’s up to the university making out she’s so smart and clever, going to get herself a degree and everything, thinks she’s so wonderful, couldn’t see the machine going wrong.”

“All of them, what I wanted, what I was waiting for, a way to take their liberty away without taking a life, ’cause the taking of a life, that’s wrong. That don’t help anything.”

“How about Amanda Hooson?” Resnick asked. “What about her life?”

“Now that,” Ridgemount said, looking straight at him, “that was never meant to happen. I never knew anyone could struggle so. That was a mistake.”

“Sarah!”

The second she heard the voice, she knew whose it was and she rocked sideways against the door, a single low breath expelled from her mouth.

“Shall I come up to you or are you coming down to me?” He was leaning against the wall between the front door and the foot of the stairs. In the faint light she could see only his face at all clearly and as she got closer she saw that he was no longer wearing the same clothes as before, but black jeans and a black cotton sweater. Hands in his pockets as he leaned there, nonchalant.

“You see,” he smiled, “I said it wasn’t over.”

“What? What isn’t over? What?”

He came towards her and she backed up the stairs, four or five treads, before thinking this is the last thing I have to do, show him I’m afraid. So she went back down, didn’t stop until she was face to face with him, more of a sneer than a smile at the corner of his mouth, she could see that now.

“What do you want?”

Before she could react, he grabbed the front of her dressing gown and pulled hard, throwing her off balance, hard into him. She pushed herself clear, one hand clawing for his face, but he only laughed and pulled again twice with the hand that had never let go and her dressing gown was wide open, the shirt that she wore in bed with its buttons torn away.

“What I want,” Carew grinned, “the same as you.”

Sarah kicked out with her bare leg, fast but not quite fast enough, her shin catching him high inside the thigh, and as he hopped back she aimed her elbow at his face, felt it strike something and barged past him towards the front room and the phone.

He caught her below the waist and flung her round, the knuckles at the back of one hand grazed against the iron of the fireplace and her head and shoulder thumped against the side of the easy chair. He jerked her again and lost his grip and she fell heavily on the base of her spine and cried out with the sharpness of the pain.

“Now,” Carew said, not unpleasantly, “why don’t we stop all this silly pretending?”

“When exactly was it,” Resnick asked, “that you realized what you had to do?”

Ridgemount’s gaze lifted from the table. “When I read it in the paper, what bad been done to that young doctor, the way they described how he’d been cut, with a scalpel, cut about the legs so’s likely he’d never walk again. That’s when I knew. Joseph, I said to myself, that’s what you have to do.”

Resnick’s pulse was beginning to race. He had to be sure. “This young doctor, what was his name?”

Ridgemount looked surprised. “Fletcher. Tim Fletcher.”

“You weren’t responsible for that attack?”

Ridgemount glanced over towards Patel, shook his head. “Haven’t I been telling you?”

“Wait,” said Resnick, on his feet, keeping his voice as calm as he was able, “with Mr. Ridgemount. Let him continue with his statement. I’ll send someone else along.”

He closed the door firmly and then began to run towards the CID room.

“Now isn’t this better,” Carew was saying, “instead of all that fighting? And over what?”

He was lying next to her, part on top of her, one leg and the weight of his chest pinning her down, pressing her back against the front of the settee. The roughness of the cheap carpet was rubbing against her leg, against her hip, and her other leg was going numb. Carew was playing with her breast, pausing every now and then to kiss her mouth, the side of her face, to slide his tongue inside her ear.

“And just wait,” he smiled, “it’ll get a good deal better.” He lowered his mouth to her face and licked a line from below her ear around towards her chin. “That’s what I could never understand about Karen. Silly little cow! Didn’t know a good thing when she felt one. Dumping me for Fletcher. Pathetic!” Carew slid his tongue inside Sarah’s ear and slowly out again. “Still,” he grinned, “soon cut him down to size.”

The two cars cornered too quickly, almost colliding with one another as they swung into Carew’s street. A third was pulling up in the road at the rear, not wanting to get caught out the same way a second time. Divine hammered hard at the door and when a sleepy medical student opened it warily, he barged him aside and went in, Naylor close behind.

Sitting in the second car next to Lynn Kellogg, Resnick thought, he isn’t going to be there, eating a take-away and watching television, it isn’t going to be that easy.

“When we picked Carew up,” Resnick said, “he was chatting up one of the nurses, Sarah Leonard …”

“You think he might be out with her?”

“I don’t think we should wait around on the off chance they come wandering back, hand in hand. Get through to the station, see if her address is on file. If not, check with the hospital. Don’t let them give you no for an answer.”

Resnick got out of the car and walked along the pavement to where Divine and Naylor were now standing.

Carew readjusted his weight, used his knees to ease Sarah’s legs further apart.

“Aah,” he breathed, closing his eyes. “This is going to be beautiful.” Opening them again, face so close to hers, “Don’t you think?”