Losing You (28 page)

Twenty minutes later, having expected to be at least halfway home by now, Emma was back in the ITU waiting room, feeling utterly drained, and not a little unnerved by what Clive Andrews had just told her and Will.

‘So neither of you know the Osmonds?’ Andrews asked, fixing them both with his shrewd, but kindly eyes.

Emma shook her head.

‘Never heard of them,’ Will said croakily.

‘Apparently Rachel Osmond works in Chiswick,’ Andrews offered. ‘Isn’t that where you used to live?’

‘Yes, but ...’ Emma couldn’t think what she wanted to say. She longed for this all just to go away, no more questions, no more shocks, no more hospitals or life support, just her and Lauren safe and together the way they’d always been. This place was alien, wrong, they shouldn’t be here at all.

‘Chiswick’s a big place,’ Will said.

‘Of course, but I’m wondering if they might be the parents of one of Lauren’s friends.’

‘I don’t know anyone by that name,’ Emma told him. ‘Have you asked any of her friends, or someone at the school?’

‘It’s in hand,’ Andrews assured her.

‘Do you know what this woman does in Chiswick?’ Will demanded.

‘I know she has a shop. I can find out what kind it is.’

‘What about her husband, what does he do?’

‘I don’t think that’s been established yet, but I’m sure we’ll know more by tomorrow.’ Taking out his mobile, he showed them the text from Jackie Dennis containing the unidentified number. ‘Does it mean anything to either of you?’ he asked.

Will looked at it and shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea. Why? Whose is it?’

‘That’s what we’re trying to find out. It’s where the message came from giving directions of how to get to the place near Glastonbury which the Osmonds apparently own. Do you happen to know anyone who lives down that way?’

Again Emma shook her head. Right now she could barely even remember where Glastonbury was, or if she’d ever visited, though of course Lauren had been to a couple of the festivals.

Will said, ‘So you think she went there before the accident to ... to what? Meet someone?’

‘It seems the most logical reason,’ Andrews replied. ‘Or perhaps she was giving someone a lift there.’

‘Like who?’

‘I’ve no idea, I’m simply putting forward possibilities.’

‘I don’t understand why it matters,’ Emma said, feeling as though the words were coming from a far distant place. She was too tired to do this, yet how could she not? ‘Whatever her reason was for going there, she wasn’t doing anything wrong, so why are you trying to make it sound as though she was?’

Andrews was registering her pain and understanding her confusion. ‘I’m afraid it’s because we don’t know what she was doing that we have to ask all these questions,’ he explained gently. ‘But at least we know she hadn’t been drinking.’

Will’s eyes widened. ‘How do you know that?’ he demanded.

Colouring slightly, Andrews said, ‘It’s normal procedure to carry out a blood test on someone in Lauren’s position.’

‘And if she had been drinking, what then? Would it make the kid who hit her less culpable?’

‘No, but as it’s not an issue perhaps we should return to the point of this discussion, which is to try to establish the reason Lauren went down into Somerset that night ...’

‘Why?’ Will broke in belligerently. ‘Surely you can’t think she was up to no good. If you knew her you’d know it’s insane even to consider it.’

Only too aware that parents almost never knew as much as they thought they did about their teenage offspring, Andrews said, ‘It’s very difficult to know what to think at the moment, but clearly there are some issues, queries, that need to be addressed.’

Will’s whole body seemed to stiffen. ‘Are you trying to say she was having some sort of affair with this Osmond bloke?’ he growled. ‘Is that what you’re getting at here, because if you are ...’

Unable to bear it, Emma said, ‘Will, just stop ...’

‘The hell I will,’ he cried, ‘because I for one won’t have my daughter slandered that way, and even if she was having an affair, it’s
not a crime
. She’s eighteen, for God’s sake, she can come and go as she pleases, so why are you ...
Actually I know what you’re leading up to here. You’re trying to make out she’s to blame for what’s happened to her.’

‘Absolutely no one thinks she’s to blame for that,’ Andrews assured him. ‘We know exactly how the accident happened, and no one, not even the Lomax family, is trying to contest it.’

‘But they will ...’

‘I doubt it ...’

‘... it only happened two days ago, and they’ve already got one of the city’s top lawyers working for them, so how the hell do you know where this will go?’

‘Will, can we please just hear what Clive is trying to tell us,’ Emma said sharply.

Flipping a hand to show his impatience, Will sat back with a tight expression and angry eyes as Andrews prepared to continue.

‘I’m sorry to say,’ he began, ‘that the mystery behind Lauren’s movements during the hours leading up to the accident is giving rise to suspicion. And the investigators would be failing in their duty if they didn’t try to find out what was going on, just in case it turns out to be something the defence can use to achieve a lesser sentence. Or in case Lauren was involved in some kind of illegal activity.’

Feeling her head starting to spin as Will leapt to his feet, Emma tried to stay detached from his anger, but it wasn’t possible when in her own exhausted way she was as appalled and offended by the suggestion as he was.

‘I get what’s going on here,’ Will raged. ‘It’s taken me a while to catch up, but the Lomax boy’s family are putting on pressure, aren’t they? They’ll have contacts in the police force at the highest level ...’

‘I can assure you nothing of the sort is going on,’ Andrews interrupted.

‘But you’re all corrupt, the whole bloody lot of you. I bet I won’t have to go very deep to find out that your top chap is a Freemason buddy of Russell Lomax ...’

‘Will, this isn’t helping.’

‘So what are we supposed to do, just sit here and let
them get that boy off the hook by staining our daughter’s name?’

‘Mr Scott, that really is not happening,’ Andrews told him firmly. ‘No one is trying to deny that Oliver Lomax was driving the car that hit Lauren ...’

‘Good, then let’s focus on him a bit more, shall we?’ Will snapped. ‘Let’s leave my girl, who’s probably brain-damaged thanks to him ...’

‘Don’t say that,’ Emma cried, burying her face in her hands.

‘... to carry on fighting for her life while we find out where
he
was before the accident, what
he
was up to. Did you test him for drugs? I bet you didn’t ...’

‘I wasn’t there when he was taken to the station,’ Andrews broke in, ‘but I’m sure the drugs test was carried out.’

‘But the charge was for drink-driving?’

‘Yes.’

‘What difference does it make whether it was drink or drugs?’ Emma exclaimed. ‘He was still driving the car, and Lauren’s still where she is, so for God’s sake, can we stop wasting time and energy on petty detail and concentrate on getting her through this?’

Seeming to lose it altogether, Will shouted, ‘And how highly do you rate her chances of survival, may I ask? Exactly what are you telling yourself in that pathetic little world of denial you live in? Without those machines she’d be dead, you do realise that, don’t you? She can’t breathe on her own, or eat, or even think ...’

‘Stop, stop, stop,’ Emma sobbed, covering her ears. ‘You’re her father, for God’s sake. What’s the matter with you? Do you want her to die? Is that what you’re saying?’

‘Of course I don’t want her to fucking die, but I don’t want her to be brain-damaged either ...’

‘Mr and Mrs Scott,’ an intensivist barked, coming in the door. ‘Whatever’s going on in here, you have to keep your voices down. Otherwise, please take it outside.’

Shamed by the reprimand, Emma said, ‘I’m very sorry. We didn’t mean ... Is Lauren all right?’

‘She’s the same, but I’m afraid we really can’t have you causing this sort of disturbance.’

‘Of course not,’ Will said gruffly. ‘I’m sorry, it was my fault. I just can’t seem ... I ...’ His eyes went to Emma. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, and dropping his head in his hands he slumped down in a chair while Andrews offered a further apology to the intensivist, with an assurance there would be no further disruption.

‘Are you sure you want to stay here tonight?’ Emma asked Will when the intensivist had gone. ‘What I’m saying is, I don’t mind ...’

‘Of course I’ll stay,’ he interrupted. ‘You need to go home and get some proper rest. I’ll call if anything happens.’

Emma glanced at Andrews, then back to Will. She was afraid of what she wanted to say, but knew she couldn’t leave until she had. ‘Please don’t tell her that it’s OK to let go,’ she whispered brokenly. ‘She’s fighting, Will, I know she is, and she needs to know we’re both with her, so please don’t let her think that you’re giving up.’

Will lifted his head. His face was ashen, his eyes wet with tears. ‘I have to do what I think is right,’ he told her, ‘not for me, for her ...’

‘Will, please ... I can’t let you stay here if you’re going to ...’

‘I’m not going to do anything,’ he broke in roughly, ‘except sit with her and read her a few stories. Tomorrow though, or as soon as we can, we have to talk to the doctor and find out exactly what he thinks her chances are.’

‘You know what keeps bothering me,’ Emma said, staring absently out at the passing landscape as Andrews drove her home, ‘is why she took her flute. She told me she was going to play for Melissa, but I went into Melissa’s house with her and she left it in the car.’ She took a breath. ‘I suppose she could have gone back for it after Polly and I left, but ... I don’t know, it’s just something that keeps bothering me.’

Unable even to attempt an explanation, Andrews replied, ‘Someone’s going to be talking to Melissa in the next day or two, so perhaps she’ll be able to throw some light on it.’

Knowing from a conversation she’d had with Polly earlier how unlikely that was, Emma sighed and closed her eyes. ‘I might need to talk to her friends myself,’ she said wearily. How was it possible to feel so tired, and yet so wired at the same time? ‘At the moment they don’t seem to be opening up,’ she went on, ‘but Polly’s convinced Melissa knows something. I think she’s more or less admitted it, she just doesn’t want to break Lauren’s confidence.’ She ached and shuddered inwardly. ‘I dread to think what it might be.’

Slowing as they reached the end of the M32 to merge round Cabot Circus, Andrews said, ‘Inspector Dennis was asking me earlier about a boyfriend. Do you know if she has one?’

Emma shook her head. ‘Not currently – at least I don’t think so, but I’m beginning to wonder now how much I really know.’ Her eyes remained closed as she tried to connect lies, deceit, secrecy with the daughter she knew and loved.

‘For what it’s worth I’m told her relationship status on Facebook is single,’ Andrews said, ‘and I’m guessing there aren’t any texts of a romantic nature on her mobile or Jackie Dennis would have mentioned it.’

‘Actually,’ Emma said, experiencing a disturbing mix of alarm and doubt, ‘an ex-boyfriend has been in touch a few times lately, wanting to see her. His name’s Parker Jenkins. I can’t imagine why she’d have driven to Glastonbury to see him, and pretended to me she was going out with Melissa, unless maybe he found some way of tricking her into going.’ Her head was thumping with the stress of so many scenarios, all of which seemed to peter into nonsense.

Easing off the accelerator as he headed into the underpass, Andrews said, ‘It’s sounding like a long shot, but it’s probably worth checking to find out if he sent the text, or has any connection to the Osmonds. Do you have a number for him, or an address?’

‘No, but I’m sure Donna does, and it’ll be in Lauren’s phone, of course, unless she’s erased it. Maybe it’ll match the one Inspector Dennis sent you.’

‘We’ll find out.’ And clicking on his earpiece as his mobile rang he listened for a few moments, then said, ‘OK, I’ll pass it on. Thanks.’ To Emma he said, ‘That was Jackie Dennis. Apparently someone with the Met has spoken to Ian Osmond and he’s saying the same as his wife, that he’s never even heard of Lauren.’

Feeling her head throbbing even harder, Emma pressed her fingers to her temples as she tried to think. ‘So why did she have their address?’

‘I’ve no idea, but Jackie Dennis is arranging to go up to London to speak to the Osmonds herself. At the moment we only have their word that they don’t know Lauren, but there’s obviously some connection and we need to find out what it is.’

‘Do you know what I’m thinking?’ Emma said, feeling dizzier than ever. ‘That maybe they run some kind of cult, and somehow or other Lauren’s got mixed up with it. Except how could I not know, I’d surely have picked up on something?’

‘You’d have thought so, but in my own experience with teenagers – I have two of my own and of course dealings with a lot more from all walks – I’ve often found that the answers, or signs, are there to be seen, but we’re looking the wrong way.’

Emma turned to him. ‘I don’t know if I can handle oblique right now,’ she said.

Grimacing, he replied, ‘And I’m already regretting saying it, because the last thing you need is more confusion being heaped on top of what already exists. Your theory about a cult could hold up. We’ll know more after Jackie’s made her inquiries.’ Then, changing the subject, ‘Would you like to stop somewhere like a supermarket before I drop you off?’

Shaking her head she turned to gaze sightlessly ahead, trying to process this new information with its new angles and puzzles, and hardly registering the way other drivers were slowing as they clocked the police car coming up behind them. Nothing about her surroundings seemed quite real; it was as though everything had slipped out of focus and was moving in a strangely separate world.
Familiar streets and buildings went by like apparitions from a distant past, hazed as though caught in a dream. She closed her eyes and opened them again and felt a swirling light-headedness coming over her.

‘Not long now,’ Andrews told her, as she buried her face in her hands, ‘another ten, fifteen minutes and we’ll be there.’