Sycamore Gap: A DCI Ryan Mystery(37)
“You’re saying that it puts him in the vicinity? Surely, that’s circumstantial.”
“I know that it is. He was questioned repeatedly about those photographs last year and his story never changed: he says that they aren’t his and he has no idea how they got there. There’s not a cat in hell’s chance of me being able to interview Keir Edwards about the same thing, without something more.”
“You would want to interview him yourself?” Paddy was surprised.
“It’s my case.”
“Is that all?”
An unreadable look passed across Ryan’s face.
“No, it’s not all.”
Ryan made it to the hospital in time to catch the last ten minutes of afternoon visiting hours. It was a refreshing change to walk along the plastic-coated floor of an ordinary ward, rather than the intensive care unit. Instead of the incessant ‘beep’ of monitors, Jack Lowerson’s new ward carried the sound of quiet laughter. Here, there was positivity.
He headed to the bed at the end, where the curtains weren’t drawn, signalling that it was alright to approach.
“Jack.”
Lowerson didn’t look unwell, Ryan thought, aside from being a bit thinner. In the six months that he had been in the hospital, the deep skull fracture had mended following emergency surgery to remove several blood clots in his brain. His wavy brown hair had grown back, hiding the scar that lay beneath it. His cheekbone and nose had both been broken and, after some impressive plastic surgery, the only evidence that his face had been smashed could be seen in the slight dent which leaned his nose a little to the left. Looking closely, his face was ever so slightly asymmetrical, but it was better than the alternative.
“Ryan,” the man pushed himself up into a sitting position and rested against the pillows at his back.
Almost immediately, a young nurse bustled over and plumped those pillows. With a parting smile, she bustled off again.
Ryan raised a single black eyebrow.
“You might be onto a winner, there, mate.”
“I wish. She’s breaking my heart.”
It was fantastic to be able to sit here bantering with the lad, Ryan thought. It was a miracle that Jack was alive at all, that he suffered no permanent brain damage …
Don’t dwell on it.
“You’re looking well.”
“Thanks, every day I feel better and better.”
Ryan nodded.
“Look, ah –”
“Ryan, I –”
They spoke in unison. Jack gestured for him to speak first.
“Lowerson … Jack. I never got a chance to apologise.”
“There’s no need –”
“There’s every need,” Ryan interjected firmly. “You’re one of mine. I let you down.”
Jack shook his head and looked down at his hands against the crisp white sheet.
“You told me to bring them in for questioning. I went beyond that; way beyond that. I entered a suspect’s premises without any support. It was basic training and I ignored it.”
Ryan swallowed. That much was true, but it was a bloody hard way to learn his lesson.
“You didn’t deserve this.”
“No, I didn’t. But that’s not your fault.”
Ryan rubbed clammy hands over his jean-clad legs.
“Look, I just wanted to say that we’re all glad you’re back in the land of the living.”
“Me too.” Jack cleared his throat. “I appreciate you coming down here. My mum was telling me that you and Phillips visited every Saturday afternoon, while I was out of it.”
Ryan gave a quick, short nod.
“It was the least we could do.”
“It means a lot.” Jack looked away, embarrassed to find that tears were brimming. Ryan saw them and gave the man a moment to compose himself before changing topic.
“Thing is, Jack, you can’t loll about here for the rest of your life flirting with Nurse Nancy over there. We’ve got work to do.”
Lowerson smiled.
“I caught the news,” he pointed a finger at the old-fashioned TV fixed to the wall in the corner of the room.
Ryan lowered his voice and leaned forward so that only Jack could hear.
“We found another one,” he murmured. “Same wall cavity, but this one’s brand new.”
Lowerson’s eyes turned dark and serious.
“You’re thinking it might be a copycat?”
“Could be.”
“They worked fast,” Lowerson muttered. “Someone looking to cash in on the media hype?”
“They killed her before any of the news channels had even picked up the first murder.”
Jack frowned.
“If not that … you think it’s the same guy, returning to the scene of the crime?”