Питер Джеймс - Left You Dead

Veins of pink streaked the pre-dawn sky through the windscreen as Roy Grace finally turned into his lane, the Ford bumping along the unmade track. Every muscle, tendon and ligament in his arms and upper body ached like hell, and his heart was heavy at what lay ahead, and behind him, and the terrible tragedy that had so nearly happened out there on the clifftop.

He honestly didn’t know how much longer he could have held on. Seconds at most. He shivered at the thought of what might have been.

Halting the car outside the cottage, he switched off the engine and just sat there for some moments, feeling the early morning breeze through his open window, too drained to even get out of the car.

In the distant farmyard, he faintly heard a cockerel crowing. The car clock showed 5.53 a.m.

He felt in turmoil. His dearest friend had so very nearly died. He wondered how, on top of the tragedy of Bruno, he could ever have lived with that. And he was shaking at the knowledge that he himself might not have been alive to see this dawn. To see Cleo and Noah and their unborn baby. He tried to blank that from his mind, but he couldn’t.

He’d insisted that a loudly protesting Glenn Branson be ambulanced to hospital for a check-up, while he waited at the scene for the Coastguard’s air-sea rescue helicopter to arrive. The crew radioed that in its searchlight they had seen the body of a man at the bottom of the cliffs. Presumably Niall Paternoster, but they wouldn’t be sure until after the body was recovered later in the morning by the lifeboat. Roy then phoned the control room to make the necessary arrangements for notifying the IOPC.

Rebecca Watkins had been lucky. She’d crashed through a tree and dense shrubbery onto a ledge twenty feet below the top of the cliff. Just a short distance to the right or left and she’d have missed it, joining Niall on an unsurvivable drop onto rocks at the bottom.

She was injured, just how badly Grace wouldn’t find out until sometime tomorrow. She’d sure been more fortunate than Niall — or maybe not completely so, depending on her injuries, and depending on what happened after she’d stood trial for murder. But that was for another day.

After the helicopter had winched her to safety, he’d gone back to HQ with the rest of the team for a quick debrief, where he learned that Eden had been arrested by a member of the Surveillance Team while attempting to flee, and was now detained at Brighton custody centre.

Grace then cleaned the mud as best he could from his clothes, face and hands, before driving to the hospital at Eastbourne, where he waited while Glenn was being X-rayed and checked over.

The A&E doctor reported, after a long wait, that the Detective Sergeant had suffered two cracked ribs, and they were keeping him overnight for observation. It wasn’t until the doctor had assured him that his friend was OK, and not in any danger, that Grace had finally left the hospital.

Utterly all in as he finally entered the front door, he was glad that Humphrey hadn’t come trotting over for his usual hug and pat — he wasn’t sure he had the energy even for that. It took everything he had just to take his clothes off and brush his teeth, before crawling into bed as quietly as he could so as not to wake Cleo.

But she was awake.

‘How did it go?’ she murmured.

‘Fine,’ he said. ‘It was — you know — OK. Sort of— thing—’

He was sound asleep before he could finish what he was going to say.

‘Wakey-wakey, sleepyhead!’

Roy Grace opened his eyes to see Cleo standing over him. Although the curtains were still drawn, the room was light. He blinked several times. ‘Hey.’

‘Any idea what time it is?’

He shook his head. He had no idea at all.

‘Midday!’

Sitting up with a start, he said, ‘What?’ He looked at the bedside clock for confirmation: 12.07 p.m. ‘Shit!’

He’d planned to be in the office by 9 a.m., although he’d told his team members from last night to come in late.

‘Your buddy, Cassian Pewe, rang you a couple of hours ago. He sounded sweet as pie. Asked if you could call him back whenever it suited you.’

‘Ten years would suit me,’ he retorted. ‘That do? Although that would be too soon.’

‘So, he’s still not been arrested?’ She looked worried.

Grace shook his head. ‘It’s taking longer than I thought — they’d normally jump on something like this as an absolute priority.’ He reflected for a moment. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have listened to Guy Batchelor. Perhaps evidence from a jailbird doesn’t cut the mustard so far as Professional Standards are concerned. In which case I’m going to be the fall guy here. And if that happens, my future in Sussex is toast. Anywhere else in England you fancy living?’

She frowned. ‘Seriously?’

‘If Pewe remains here and gets to find out, which he will, that I’d presented evidence against him, then I don’t have a future with Sussex Police — not for as long as he’s here.’

‘You’ve always got the Met as an option.’ Cleo sat on the side of the bed. ‘Let’s get the funeral behind us and then worry about it, shall we? We’re not going to let that creep affect our lives. You said Alison Vosper would have you back in the Met like a shot. So even if you had to commute to London, we could still live here, couldn’t we?’

‘You’re right. Let’s deal with the funeral. Put everything else on hold until then.’

She kissed him on the forehead. ‘Tell me about last night, what happened?’

He hesitated. ‘I’ve got to go into work today.’

‘You’re not a machine, darling. Can’t you take the day off? It’s glorious out there. Let Glenn handle it today?’

‘There’s a slight problem with that.’

‘Oh?’

He reflected for a moment on all he needed to do. ‘OK, I’ll leave it till later. Let me go for a run, then have a shower and a strong coffee, then I’ll tell you over brunch. Want me to make it? Poached eggs on crushed avocado on bagels?’

She grinned. ‘Take it away, mon brave !’

As she left the room, he reached for his phone, his arm painful, every bit of it aching. He dialled Branson’s personal phone. It rang twice, three times. Was he still in hospital?

Then, to his relief, the DS answered.

‘I’m still alive, boss,’ he said. ‘Wow, you are one strong son-of-a-bitch.’

‘I’ll take that as a thank you.’

‘You’ll get a proper thank you when I see you. Meantime, don’t make me laugh, it hurts.’

‘I’ve been there, had busted ribs. I won’t make you laugh, I promise.’

‘Don’t even think about it.’

‘I promise!’ Grace grinned.

‘I called in and I had an update from Norman,’ Branson said. ‘Niall Paternoster’s dead, Rebecca Watkins has several broken bones and extensive bruising but she’ll survive. I’m sure we’ll finally get to the bottom of what’s been going on. Trust me, I’m a detective.’

‘Yeah?’

He heard a loud cry of pain. Then, ‘Don’t make me laugh!’

‘Apologies,’ Grace said.

‘You might try to sound more sincere.’

‘Well, you might try to sound a little more grateful that I saved your life. How about losing some weight, so you’re a bit lighter next time I have to hang on to you over a cliff?’

‘Is that why you called me, to cover yourself in heroic glory?’

‘I should have bloody let you go!’

There was a long silence. Then Branson said, ‘I love you, mate.’

‘Yeah, well, I quite like you, too.’

Grace lay back against the pillows after he’d ended the call. He was now feeling fully alert. He called the Incident Room and asked to be put through to Jack Alexander.