Luke Delaney - The Keeper

He nodded he understood. He’d only been awake a couple of minutes, but already felt exhausted. His eyes were beginning to roll back into their sockets when Kate’s voice cut through the morphine and other opioids, the fear in her voice acting like smelling salts. ‘Sean …’ He forced his eyes to open and focus, like a drunk trying to stay awake on a train. He could see the tears she wouldn’t allow to escape in her eyes.

‘That was too close, Sean, way too close. When they told me you’d been shot and you were being brought in — my heart, Sean — the pain in my …’ She couldn’t finish. He gave her a few seconds to compose herself. ‘I’ve been checking out the New Zealand Immigration website. I’d have no problem getting a job there, and neither would you. You could even transfer over as a DI. Listen, Sean — London, this job you’re doing — it’s too much. We have to think of the girls. A new life. A better life — for us all.’

‘Maybe …’

A knock at the open door saved him. Sally appeared, smiling in the doorway. Kate took it as her cue to leave and stood, bending over him and kissing him on the forehead.

‘Promise me you’ll think about it,’ she pleaded and headed for the door, brushing past Sally on the way out.

‘How you doing?’ Sally asked.

‘I’m fine, thank you,’ Kate replied with a forced smile before hurrying away along the sterile corridor. Sally shrugged her shoulders and crossed the room to Sean, slumping into the chair Kate had just vacated.

‘You look well,’ she told him with a wry smile. He shook his head and grinned as much as he could. ‘She’s hardly left your side, you know. When they first brought you in, they tried to keep her away, but she wouldn’t have it.’

‘Did you tell her what happened?’

‘I told her you’re a bloody idiot.’

‘And what about everybody else?’

‘I told them you went to the front of the house while I covered the back — that we didn’t think he was at home, which is how he managed to get the drop on you. There were a few awkward questions about why we didn’t wait for back-up, etc.’

‘And …?’

‘I said that we believed Deborah Thomson was in clear and imminent danger, so we had no choice but to go straight in and get her out.’

‘Anyone buy your story?’

Sally gave a shrug. ‘Keller didn’t contradict my account of events.’

‘You interviewed him?’

‘Yeah.’

‘With Dave?’

‘No. With Anna.’

‘Anna? Jesus.’

‘She asked some good questions. She was useful.’

‘And Keller — what did he say?’

‘I’m guessing you already know.’

He nodded. ‘He said nothing.’

‘He said less than nothing. He’s gone catatonic on us — won’t even say his name. Another future guest for Broadmoor, courtesy of our good selves.’

‘Best place for him,’ Sean pointed out, his voice beginning to fade. ‘Maybe Anna can interview him again as a patient.’

Sensing his distrust, Sally said, ‘She’s OK. Anna and I are becoming something like friends.’ Sean raised his eyebrows. ‘She’s been helping me, you know, with things.’

‘You fixed yourself,’ he told her. ‘It’s what we do, remember?’

‘I’m seeing her privately. No one at work knows about it. I’d like to keep it that way.’

‘Fair enough,’ he agreed, wilting under the influence of the medication that kept the pain at bay. Sally saw him drifting and stood to leave, her last words sounding warped and dreamlike in his head.

‘You and I both sailed too close to the wind these past nine months,’ she whispered. ‘The physical stuff heals, Sean, but we’re not the same after. We’ll never be the same people we were. But then again, maybe that’s not such a bad thing.’

He blinked slowly twice — then the darkness came.

Epilogue

Detective Superintendent Featherstone sat in his office at Shooters’ Hill police station poring over the reports generated by the investigation and arrest of Thomas Keller. With Corrigan still cooped up in hospital, he’d inherited a lot more paperwork than he cared for. Waste of time, he told himself — the shrinks would say Keller was barking mad and the courts would agree. There’d be no trial, just a plea of not guilty on the grounds of diminished responsibility that the CPS would accept. Then Keller would be marched off to Broadmoor for the rest of his natural. Waste of everybody’s time and money.

The phone ringing on his desk made him look up from Sally’s written account of Keller’s arrest and Deborah Thomson’s rescue, an account that had caused him to raise his eyebrows on more than one occasion. He snatched at the phone. ‘Detective Superintendent Featherstone speaking.’ He never tired of using his full rank on the phone — or anywhere else, for that matter.

‘Alan, it’s Assistant Commissioner Addis here.’ Featherstone rolled his eyes and sank deep into his chair. ‘You need to know, a lot of people are asking a lot of questions.’

‘About what, exactly?’

‘DI Corrigan,’ Addis answered.

‘Such as?’

‘Such as will he ever be fit to return to duty?’

‘He’ll need another operation to repair his shoulder, but I’m led to believe he’ll make a full recovery.’

‘Good. How soon?’

‘I don’t know — a few months, maybe less.’

‘Let’s make it less, shall we.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Featherstone. ‘What’s the rush?’

‘Maximizing the use of assets, Alan,’ Addis explained. ‘I want him in place and ready for the next time. Special Cases only — understood?’

‘Yes, sir.’ Featherstone listened to the line go dead, Addis’s words playing in his mind.

The next time. The next time.