Too Soon a Death: A Scottish mystery where cosy crime meets tartan noir: Borders Mysteries Book 2 (32 page)

She pointed over his shoulder to where the knife stuck up from the wooden floor.

Patrick let out the low whistle Zoe now recognised as his response to any surprise or shock. ‘That was close. Thank you.’

She leaned over to help him up.

Moments later, Cheek-studs raised himself and slashed at Patrick’s leg with something in his right hand.

He had a second knife.

THIRTY-EIGHT

The knife sliced through Patrick’s jeans into the back of his thigh. He cried out and fell against Zoe. She struggled to support his weight, wanted to lower him to the floor but saw the knife rise again. Although Cheek-studs was still on his knees, Patrick was well within his reach.

Zoe clutched Patrick and staggered back, trying to help him get out of range of the knife. The second blow struck his other leg. This time he made no sound but instantly became too heavy for her to hold. He slipped to the floor.

Cheek-studs rose to his feet.

‘You don’t have to do this,’ Zoe cried.

He responded by roughly shoving her to one side. She landed on the floor, then watched in horror as he bent over and lifted Patrick’s head, readying himself to slit the vet’s throat. Unable to do anything to save Patrick, Zoe turned away.

That was when she saw the boy.

He came up silently behind Cheek-studs and brought Patrick’s bolt cutters crashing down on the man’s head.

Cheek-studs pitched sideways on to the floor. Although he was still breathing, blood oozed from a wound behind his left ear. He wasn’t going to get up a second time.

Zoe crawled over to Patrick, pulled off her tee-shirt and pressed it against his legs to stem the bleeding. She found herself crying.

And then she heard sirens.

‘I’m sorry we had to let your attacker go to hospital first,’ Trent said to Patrick, who lay on a stretcher waiting to be wheeled into the second ambulance when it arrived. ‘I have to go by what the paramedics tell me. His condition’s life threatening.’

‘It’s okay,’ Patrick whispered. ‘There’s no way I would’ve wanted to travel in the same ambulance as him, even with one of your officers there too.’

Trent turned to Zoe. ‘You’re going to the BGH as well, I hope, Doctor.’

‘Only to keep Patrick company. The paramedics have checked me out. I’m fine.’ Zoe pulled the blanket she’d been given closer around her shoulders. Despite the heat of the day, she felt cold. The blanket also hid her maternity bra and the mound of flesh between it and her trousers.

The boy had kept hold of the bolt cutters and remained standing over the unconscious man until the first police officer appeared at the top of the stairs. Then he’d dropped them and run into the bathroom. He was sitting on the grass now, being examined by the female paramedic who had coaxed him out.

‘He saved our lives,’ Zoe said, nodding in the boy’s direction. ‘What’s going to happen to him?’

‘You probably saved his life too,’ Trent said. ‘It must have occurred to you that the boy your poacher friend fished out of the Tweed is almost certainly connected with what’s been going on here.’

Unwilling to mention the shock she’d received on seeing him for the first time, she said, ‘I did wonder.’

‘We’ll get an interpreter in so we can ask the laddie some questions. He’s obviously a victim, but he also may be able to help us track down those responsible for his enslavement and the first boy’s death.’

‘Will he be returned to his family?’

‘If they can be found. I’ve just spoken with a colleague from our special unit which investigates human trafficking. He said the boy’s most likely Vietnamese, brought to the UK by one criminal gang and sold on to another to be their gardener here.’

‘Gardener?’ Zoe frowned. ‘What a benign term for a child locked in a house with little food and hundreds of cannabis plants to tend.’

‘Trust me, Doctor, I’m not making light of what he’s suffered. And the worst of it is, his masters probably had other plans for him in the future, like forcing him into prostitution.’

Zoe looked again at the boy, felt the urge to go over and put her arms round him. ‘Poor little thing. I wonder if he knew the boy who died.’

‘If he did, he’s possibly the only chance we have of identifying him.’

A second ambulance appeared out of the trees and sped through the gate, which had been left open for the continuous stream of police vehicles which followed hard on the heels of Trent and his colleagues.

‘I’ll have someone drive you home when you’re finished at the hospital,’ Trent said. ‘We need to take formal statements from you both but that can wait.’

‘Thank you.’

‘There’s just one more thing, Doctor.’

‘What?’

‘I’d rather you didn’t visit Kate Mackenzie while you’re there.’

‘Why ever not? She’ll never forgive me if she hears about what’s happened today from someone else.’

Trent gestured towards the house. ‘Because this property belongs to her brother Robert.’

THIRTY-NINE

Still protesting there was nothing wrong with her, on arriving at Borders General Hospital Zoe was taken to a cubicle in A&E where a middle-aged nurse carried out a range of checks on both her and the baby. A bruise had started to come up where Cheek-studs had grabbed her arm when Patrick attacked him, but everything else was normal, even her blood pressure.

‘I should arrange for you to have an ultrasound,’ the nurse said.

‘There’s no need, honestly,’ Zoe said. ‘I’ve had a nasty experience but I’m fine. And judging by how much he’s bouncing around at present, my baby is too.’

The nurse peered at her over the top of a pair of pink-rimmed spectacles Kate would have been delighted to wear. ‘Seeing as you’re a doctor yourself, I’m not going to argue. But you do know what to look out for, don’t you?’

Zoe quoted what she would have told any woman in her care: ‘Vaginal bleeding, leaking fluid, abdominal pains or a decline in the baby’s movement.’

‘Alright, you pass,’ the nurse said with a grin. She handed Zoe a carrier bag. ‘There’s a police officer waiting outside to take you home. She asked me to give you this before you leave.’

Zoe peered inside the bag and saw her mobile, seemingly undamaged apart from a cracked screen, and an oversized white tee-shirt. She pulled on the tee-shirt and walked out to the hospital corridor. A tall, red-haired police officer approached, introduced herself as Constable Reid and offered Zoe a wheelchair.

‘Thanks but I can walk just fine.’

‘News has got out there’s been an incident,’ Reid said. ‘A few reporters are hanging about at the front door.’

‘How did they find out so quickly?’

‘It’s impossible to keep anything quiet these days. I’ll go first, you follow. Don’t say anything.’

‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’

Trying to look as though a police officer was walking ahead of her merely by chance, Zoe felt the colour rush to her face as the small group of men and women standing outside the hospital’s main entrance ran towards them. The neutral expression she had adopted before stepping out of A&E vanished when someone called her name; she turned and saw the photographer who’d snapped her that day on the Chain Bridge. She glared at him. He smirked and raised his camera.

Zoe shouted, ‘Leave me alone.’ The only response she got was the sound of cameras taking her photograph.

The damage done, Reid took Zoe by the arm and led her towards the car park. By the time they reached the police car, Zoe’s legs were trembling. She fell onto the front passenger seat with a groan. ‘I lost my cool there. Sorry.’

‘No you didn’t. Losing your cool would have been telling them to fuck off.’ Reid put the car into gear and concentrated on getting them away from the hospital.

As they’d agreed in the ambulance, Patrick phoned Zoe when he got home, which was a couple of hours after Reid dropped her off at Keeper’s Cottage.

‘How are you?’ she asked.

‘Walking like Kenneth More playing Douglas Bader but glad to be alive. What about you?’

‘As long as I don’t dwell on what might have happened if the boy hadn’t found your bolt cutters, I’m okay. It was a relief to walk in here and be swamped with affection from the dogs.’

‘Would you mind bringing Peggy over here later? The police haven’t brought my car back yet and I don’t think I could drive it anyway.’

‘Are you sure you don’t want her to stay here with us for a couple of days? She and Mac are still having a great time.’

‘It’ll do me good to take some short walks. And although she might not be missing me, I miss her.’

‘We’ll see you in about half an hour,’ Zoe said.

After grabbing scones and bread out of the freezer, a few pieces of shortbread and tablet, and half a dozen eggs, she herded the dogs into the Jeep and made the short journey to Patrick’s home. He came to the front door to meet them, wearing a pair of blue pyjamas.

When Zoe got closer, she could see the pain etched in his face. Even bending down to pat Peggy caused him to wince, and for once he didn’t pick the dog up to give her a cuddle. In spite of this, he lightly touched Zoe’s shoulder and said, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Whatever for? I roped you into going there and you ended up with stitches up the back of both legs. I’m the one who should be apologising.’

‘If only I’d left you in the car. When I realised what we’d found, we could’ve driven off and called the police from a safe distance.’

‘Let’s agree that we both messed up and leave it at that. Alright?’

‘Alright.’

Zoe followed Patrick indoors. Just before they reached his sitting room, he stopped walking and leant against the wall.

‘You’re obviously in a lot of pain.’

‘The injection the doctor gave me in A&E has worn off.’

‘Didn’t they also give you some medication to help you get through the next few days?’

Patrick winced and stared at the floor. ‘I can’t take them,’ he said eventually.

‘Why ever not?’

Still he wouldn’t look her in the eye. ‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Zoe.’

‘Are you going to explain what you’re talking about?’

He raised his head, took a deep breath and said, ‘I can’t take any drugs because I’m a recovering alcoholic.’

‘Oh.’

‘I’ve never abused pills, but I know I could very easily become addicted to painkillers so I avoid them. This is a bit worse than a headache, though.’

She said nothing.

‘I’ve shocked you into silence, haven’t I?’

‘No, I was simply hearing you out. I’m a doctor, remember. I don’t shock easily.’

‘Doesn’t mean to say you want an addict for a friend.’

‘You don’t know what I want.’

‘I know the closest you’ve ever come to substance abuse is singing along with
The Joker
in your car.’

‘Just because I didn’t recognise the smell of weed doesn’t mean I’m some sort of goody two-shoes!’ Zoe didn’t realise how loudly she’d spoken until she saw Mac slink off down the hall, his tail down. ‘Oh God, Patrick, I’m sorry. Let me help you get to your seat and we can talk about this.’

His jaw clenched. ‘I can’t even sit down.’

‘In which case let me help you find a position you can manage.’

To head off any further argument, she took hold of his arm and they walked together to the sofa, where she instructed him to lie face down. He complied, though not without protest. ‘I feel ridiculous. And useless.’

‘And less likely to keel over, I hope.’

He propped himself up on his elbows and nodded.

‘May I see the pills the hospital gave you?’ Zoe asked. ‘Or have you thrown them down the toilet?’

‘They’re in that box over there,’ Patrick said, pointing.

She found the packet underneath a layer of battered paperback thrillers. ‘These would definitely make you feel more comfortable. I can help make sure you stick to the prescribed dose.’

‘I won’t risk it. Trust me, I’m not being a martyr. There’s a very real danger they could trigger a relapse. If you look in the bathroom, you’ll see I even use alcohol-free mouthwash.’

‘And there’s nothing I can say to convince you otherwise?’

‘No.’

‘In which case, I’m going to stay here and look after you.’

‘Why would you do that? You’re not my doctor.’

‘I’m your friend. It’s what friends do. And to be honest, I don’t feel like being alone tonight.’

‘After what happened today, Zoe, someone should be looking after you.’

‘If it makes you feel better, let’s say we’re taking care of each other.’

‘You must think me very weak.’

‘No, quite the opposite, actually.’ She fetched a cushion from the armchair and tucked it behind his shoulder. ‘Will I get us a bite of supper? You’ll feel better if you have something to eat.’

‘Depends if you like ham and cheese. I haven’t got much else in.’

‘Lucky I brought a few bits and pieces with me, in that case.’

Zoe cobbled together a light meal which Patrick was able to eat without having to sit up. They chatted and ate and, later, napped, Zoe in the armchair using a small box of books as a footstool, Patrick face down on the sofa. His bladder forced him up at around three in the morning, after which she made mugs of tea and talked to distract him from the pain in his legs. They both spoke of intensely private things, Zoe about what had happened to her since coming to the Borders, including meeting Andrew for the first time, and Patrick about being saved from an uncertain future by Alcoholics Anonymous.

‘I’m guessing that the friend who keeps calling you at inconvenient times is another AA member,’ Zoe said.

‘Yes. I’m his sponsor. It’s the first time I’ve done this and I don’t want to screw it up.’

‘It’s a big responsibility but you seem to be devoting a lot of time and effort to him.’

‘Sorry I couldn’t tell you before, even when he was interrupting our outings. I probably shouldn’t have said anything now, but you’re a doctor, after all.’

They dropped off again around five o’clock, and Zoe woke with a start at seven-thirty, glad to have been rescued by the dogs’ whines from a bad dream in which she couldn’t staunch the blood coming from Patrick’s legs. She looked over at the sofa, relieved to see him sleeping peacefully, and rose to let the dogs out. While Mac and Peggy ran around the small garden at the back of the house, she stood admiring the view and thinking about the events of the previous day. By rights, she should be suffering from shock, but all she felt was relief that the baby was unharmed. Near misses no longer mattered; the only important thing was what actually happened.