Terminus, p.9
Terminus, page 9
She shook her head a little and put her hand into her handbag to find her house key. She handed it over to her boss. “Bring me all my underwear, don’t even think of stealing a pair.” Her eyes lingered on Gary’s chin, unable to make eye contact.
“There’s a floral holdall in the bottom of the wardrobe. Mine’s the left side doors. Pack me joggers, tops, and a smart pair of trousers and blouse for the press conference. Oh, and my perfume from the dresser and the cosmetics from the top drawer…”
“I’ll pack your shower kit, too. Don’t worry, Alyson, I’ll be back by about five. I’ve got a few things to do at the office, but I promise I won’t forget anything. Do you want your laptop or iPad or anything?”
She laughed. “You and your gadgets, Gary. I bet you’ll have a fancy radio in your coffin, so you don’t get bored when you’re dead!”
Gary chuckled, stood and, with an awkward half-wave, made his way out of the flat.
Alyson watched the door close behind him and turned the volume back up on the television. Her mind was racing. I’m sure that I don’t have to doubt him. He’s just trying to be a good friend. Isn’t he? I don’t know why I couldn’t say they’ve got a lead. That someone picked Annie up at the railway station. Why has he just gone ahead and bought a bloody doorbell? I wish I could just tell him to get lost, but I can’t…
Alyson’s home was weirdly cold. Gary looked around for the thermostat controller and turned it gently until it clicked into life. He turned it up another few degrees, just to take the chill out of the air. He looked around and frowned. I’m looking for Pushkin, but Alyson doesn’t have any pets. Weird, don’t most people have an animal at home? I can’t imagine not having a cat. Gary studied all the pictures on the wall and bookshelf and looked down at the carpet.
“Damn it,” he cursed, seeing that he’d left a slushy set of footprints on the carpet.
Knowing how Alyson liked everything in its place, he couldn’t leave the mess as it was. He slipped his shoes off and put them by the front door, and spotted the vacuum cleaner nestled next to the wall at the bottom of the stairs. With a smirk tickling the edge of his lips, Gary pulled the vacuum out and plugged it in, swiftly getting rid of the mess. He put the device back, but couldn’t resist not curling the lead back properly and left it draped across the floor. Gary spent the next twenty minutes happily looking for a drill, which was under the stairs in a tidy cupboard with several shelves, and installing the doorbell. He took his time, making sure it was properly straight on the door frame. With a feeling of real satisfaction, he set up the internet connection to the doorbell, but on an account billed and set up to him. Gary smirked to himself, the feeling of control satisfying.
Gary flicked his way around the Ring app. As he had one already at his own home, it was easy to set it up and send a link to Alyson for her to use the app. His phone sounded a message a moment later. ‘Thanks, I appreciate your help.’
‘Is that sarcastic, or does she mean it? Never mind, I don’t really care, as long as I know where she is. Maybe I should go and see Annie soon. I suppose that she’ll need some food and drink… can’t have her dying on me yet. Right then, best get a move on.’ With a spring in his step, Gary jogged up the stairs to Alyson’s bedroom. The room was dim and had a faint lingering smell of sleeping bodies. He crossed the room and pulled the curtains open, light flooding in. With a frown, Gary noticed she had not made the bed. He shivered, a stark reminder that Alyson had left quickly. On a normal day, he knew she wouldn’t have dreamed of leaving the home without everything being spick and span. Without giving it any consideration, Gary pulled the duvet straight and placed the scatter cushions from the foot of the bed along the top of the pillows propped up against the headboard.
He opened the left door of the inbuilt wardrobe and knelt down. Some things never change, didn’t even need to look around for your suitcase.
Gary grunted. The suitcase was surprisingly heavy. He pulled out the black hard-shelled case and put it on Alyson’s bed. It was secured with a combination lock, but the catches didn’t click open when he pushed the lime green latch. With a sigh, he gazed towards the window without seeing out. A lightbulb clicked on in his mind, and he swirled the numbers around to 1998. The year Annie was born.
Confidently, he pressed in the latch, and the lock clicked open. The case opened with a well-weighted motion. Gary frowned; what he found wasn’t what he expected. Instead of holiday clothes, swimwear and travel toothpaste, a thick black garment rested, perfectly smoothed, into the aperture. Gary focussed on the contents of the case, his insides tensing momentarily. With a gasp of air, he blew out the content of his lungs and blinked tightly. He reopened his eyes and forced his body to relax. With care, Gary pulled the garment out and placed it on the bed.
The floor-length jet-black Gothic style wedding dress, highly detailed corseting and lashings of lace, looked as gorgeous as the first time he had seen it, some twenty-five years previously. Gary picked up the choker and ran it through his fingers. Alyson, this means that you must love me.
He rummaged around the bottom of the wardrobe and, amongst the shoes and handbags, found the floral holdall. Gary removed it, placing it onto the bed next to the dress. He smiled, a contrast from the shock when he opened the case, and replaced the dress back into the suitcase. It pleased him he didn’t need to struggle.
Realising that time was ticking on, Gary rushed to pack the holdall. Satisfied that he had remembered everything, he slipped the choker into his pocket, gathered the bags, and departed.
Alyson’s eyes ran around the flat. Satisfied that the room was tidy, she picked up the keycard from beside the kettle. With care, in case someone was striding down the corridor, Alyson opened the door and stepped out into the corridor. It felt to be something of an anti-climax. No-one was in sight. A few strides took her to the nurse’s station.
“Mrs Read. How are you?” Chen looked at Alyson in anticipation.
“How’s Mark? I still haven’t seen the consultant yet. They haven’t forgotten me about, have they?”
Chen sat back, not breaking eye contact with Alyson. “There’s no change with Mr Read, I’m sorry to say. Mr Oliver is the Duty Consultant today. I promise that I’ll prompt him to make it his mission to see you.” The corners of his eyes crinkled, mouth smiling. She broke away from eye contact, tapping the countertop with the edge of the swipe card.
“Thanks Chen. I’ll come and see Mark in a while, if that’s ok. I need to prepare myself first…”
“Take your time Mrs Read. We’re giving Mr Read the best care possible. I’ll see if I can track down Mr Oliver for you, ok?”
Alyson gave a single nod. Feeling tears stinging, she glanced away and walked back to the flat.
The sun shone brightly, and Alyson gazed out across the view offered by the large windows in her flat. Daytime TV droned on in the background, punctuated from time to time with jaunty jingles. A sharp knock on the door made her jump, spilling tea onto the bed. She gritted her teeth and grunted with annoyance, hoping the consultant finally decided to make an appearance.
Alyson crossed the room at speed and pulled the door open. A distinctly average looking middle-aged man stood in the corridor, dressed in scrubs and a hairnet. Behind thick-rimmed glasses, his light blue eyes looked exhausted, looking towards the ward’s entrance as if he were thinking about his words or the weight of the world was on his shoulders. As he realised Alyson had opened the door, he turned to her and half nodded his head. “Mrs Read? I’m Mr Oliver, ITU Consultant. I’m sorry I haven’t seen you up to now.”
“It’s ok,” Alyson muttered.
Mr Oliver took in a deep breath. “Mrs Read. I’m sorry that we have met under these circumstances –”
“When is Mark going to wake up, and I suppose this is a ‘piece of string question’, but when will he be able to come home, do you think?” Alyson stared at Mr Oliver, nothing else in her peripheral vision as every ounce of her being focussed on the doctor.
Mr Oliver sighed and glanced towards the nurse’s station. He turned back to Alyson. “I am afraid that Mr Read is really very poorly. It’s a miracle, to be honest with you, that he survived surgery. We have a lot more tests to do. There’s relatively good news and not so good news. In a medical sense, he’s fairly stable insomuch that his breathing and heart rate are steady. However. It is too early to give a long-term prognosis.”
Alyson scoffed. “Please, you don’t need to sugarcoat this. Mark’s going to be a cabbage, isn’t he?”
“Eh, that’s not a phrase that’s used these days, but it is entirely plausible that Mr Read will be in a permanent vegetative state, or reduced consciousness.”
“Can I ask for his treatment to be stopped? He doesn’t deserve to be put in the position of a pointless existence.”
Mr Oliver crossed his arms and gazed at Alyson.
She squirmed. “I’m sorry, doctor. It’s just… I hate to think of my husband just existing.”
“Mr Read will quite possibly be moved to another ward, the HDU, in the next few hours. He’s not in a place where if we stopped ventilation he would die, but we’re keeping him on the ventilator to give his body an opportunity to heal while we do the breathing for him. I know this is a very difficult time for you. I promise we’ll continue to do our very best for Mr Read.” Mr Oliver’s bleeper screamed, its tones demanding attention. He looked down at it and pressed a button to silence the device. “Sorry, I have to attend to this.”
Alyson watched the doctor half jog to the nurse’s station. He picked up the receiver and jabbed the buttons. She sighed and retracted into the familiar comfort of the flat.
The kettle called to Alyson. A moment later, steam rose from the mug, bitterness filling her nostrils. Alyson jumped at the sound of someone rapping their knuckles on the door. She traipsed over to see who had come to visit.
Chen stood ramrod straight in the corridor. His dark eyes, full of sadness, met Alyson’s. He wasn’t smiling. He sighed and glanced at the floor before making eye contact. He said, “Mrs Read, I have a tricky message from the matron to give you.”
“What is it, Chen? You seem anxious. Is it Mark?”
“I’m so sorry Mrs Read. I wish it wasn’t like this, but we only have one patient family flat. The truth is, Mr Read is going to be in hospital for the long haul. We have a new patient; he fell from scaffolding onto his head.”
“My God! What’s his prognosis?”
“I can’t say. But his wife is coming from down Kent way, and she has nowhere to stay…”
Alyson sighed; resignation slumped her shoulders. “I get it. Damn, what a terrible thing for her to be coming to, Chen.” She placed a hand on her hip. “I’ll call my friend Gary to come and collect me. The consultant still going to ship Mark out of intensive care soon?”
“Yes, Mrs Read. Your husband isn’t in need of one-to-one care now. Try not to worry; he’s going to a ward that’s more than capable of caring for him.”
“Thank you, Chen. If it wasn’t inappropriate, I’d hug you.”
“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing. My wife tells me I’m very bony to cuddle.”
Alyson giggled, a weird feeling to laugh in the moment, and went back into the flat to call Gary.
Chapter Fourteen
Gary read the message on his phone. ‘Your goods are with our driver, Mike. They will be with you between 13:00 and 18:00.’ That’s really inconvenient timing! I’ll have to message Alyson and tell her I’m delayed. Gary stroked Pushkin, smiling as he felt the cat’s purr calm him.
‘Hey Alyson, I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to collect you until about seven this evening. Work gave me an emergency call out.’ Gary waited for a reply to his message. Nothing came immediately, so he dressed, ready to visit Annie.
“Sorry, I’ll be back later, Pushkin. Be good, won’t you? One of us needs to be on Santa’s nice list this year.” Gary scoffed.
He dressed in the clothes he would wear for visiting a building site. Tough workwear jeans, white T-shirt under a thick dark blue jumper and a body warmer. His feet cocooned by thick soled, sand coloured, Caterpillar boots. I’ll be a rebel and skip the Hi-Viz vest, Gary chuckled to himself, thinking of his jobsworth reputation at work.
Gary’s phone chimed. He slipped it out of a chest pocket and looked at the screen. A Ring notification showed movement at Alyson’s door. Frowning, Gary prodded the screen to see who had been at her door. Alyson glanced at the doorbell as she entered the house, followed by a woman in a smart trouser suit and a man in a police tunic. Gary rewound the footage to have a closer look at the cop. He peered at the man’s epaulette, which showed three pips. “Damn it! Pushkin, look. That’s a top boss. I can’t remember that rank and I bet that the woman is the cop that Alyson has been talking to. No wonder Alyson didn’t message back. I bet she hasn’t realised I texted. Tell you what sweetheart, I’ll ring her.” He poured a coffee and sat on his sofa.
“Gary, hi!” Alyson sounded upbeat, maybe even happy and positive.
With a slurp, Gary drained his coffee in one hot shot. “Hi. How are you doing? I’m sorry, I can’t pick you up until later. Just calling to see how you are. Is Mark coming round yet?”
“I’m at home, Gary. Wallis came to collect me, and we met Detective Chief Inspector Bryan Watkins here. They’ve arranged a press conference; it’ll be on in about twenty minutes. You should watch, it’s on all the main channels.”
“You’re kidding me. That’s good news. Hopefully, someone knows something and help find Annie.” Gary gritted his teeth, pressing the buttons on his remote control to burst the set into life. “Mr Watkins was telling me they have some good intel. He also said that it’s the first time he’s worn his tunic in about five years and he’s relieved that it still fits him.”
“Break a leg, Alyson. I’ll tune in. So, do you want me to take you over to see Mark later? I really don’t mind.”
“I’ll ring you later.”
Gary pulled the phone from his ear and stared at the display. She’s hung up. I wonder what this intel is. It can’t be that good, or they’d be picking me up.
The cat nudged Gary’s wrist. “Oh, Pushkin, what should I do? I hate feeling out of control. Alyson isn’t too smart, not that I’d say that to her face. But what about those cops? Damn, maybe I’ll have to speed things up with Annie. What do you think, Pushkin? I know I need another coffee before watching Alyson on TV.”
He stood and took off the bodywarmer and jumper. As if he had all the time in the world, Gary made his way to the kitchen and poured a mug of coffee. His bladder suddenly felt full, so he paid a visit to the toilet before sitting back in his favourite chair. A moment later, Sky News filled his screen. After a couple of adverts, the presenter said, “We cross now to Newdon and to a news conference about the missing woman, Annie Read.”
The familiar sight of Alyson’s living room appeared. They had propped a fold out material screen up behind the sofa, with the police force logo and a telephone number sign repeated across the blue material. Sitting on the edge of the seat cushion in the centre was the male cop. Alyson sat on a kitchen stool just beyond the left side of the seating and a female cop, presumably the FLO, on the right.
With a poker face, the man spoke. “Welcome to this press conference. With me is the mother of the missing person, Alyson Read, and my Family Liaison Officer Jemma Wallis. I am Detective Chief Inspector Bryan Watkins.”
The two women sat up straighter when their names were mentioned. “Because of the urgency, this event will differ slightly from a normal press conference. No journalists are here, but I have arranged a Zoom meeting. First, I’ll be telling you what we know. Annie Read is a high-risk missing person. She is twenty-four years of age and works in the 999 call centre for Newdon Police. Annie lives in Corby, Northamptonshire. On Monday the 18th February, she completed her work shift and made her way on foot to the train station in Newdon to continue her journey. Sadly, she never made it home.”
DCI Watkins gazed at his laptop camera steadily. Gary shuddered, as though the police officer were looking straight at him.
“The trains stopped because of the snow. What I am about to show you now is the last known sighting of Annie. Kind-hearted members of the public came out of their homes to help people with their journeys. I must mention now that we are not interested in prosecuting anyone for any potential motoring offences. You can rest assured that your assistance in getting Annie home takes priority.”
DCI Watkins leant forward, filling the screen momentarily. Gary leant forward, almost slipping off his chair. Footage played from a CCTV camera of the train station car park outside the ticket office. Gary hardly heard the commentary from Watkins. “Here we see the final few people waiting for a Good Samaritan. Miss Read had selflessly not tried to push onto an earlier car or bus, instead letting others go first. Now, just coming into view is a Nissan Qashqai.
I have highlighted Miss Read. As you can see, the image quality isn’t great, and the number plates on the car are obscured by slush. My forensics’ team has attempted to enhance the images, but they weren’t able to improve them enough to read the plates. The driver is dressed bizarrely as Santa. This image is an enhanced picture of the driver through his windscreen, albeit rather grainy. As you can see, a further three passengers climbed in. Were you picked up by Santa at Newdon train station? We have reviewed all the footage and no other car driver was in fancy dress. I believe that the fact that this outfit obscures the driver’s face is no coincidence. If you are indeed Santa, call me and clear your name.”
“What the hell should I do now, Pushkin?”
Jemma Wallis spoke, making Gary jump a little. “As DCI Watkins said, this is a very unusual event. There is nothing to suggest why Miss Read may have been abducted. I am speaking on behalf of Mrs Read, Annie’s mother, as she is devastated by her daughter’s disappearance. Tragically, on the same day as Miss Read disappeared, her father, Mr Mark Read, was involved in a road traffic collision, and is in a coma. Annie Read is twenty-two years of age, has shoulder length dark hair, brown eyes and is 5 feet 8 inches tall. She is of slim build. On your screens now, I’ll show you a recent photograph of Annie, along with our contact details. If you wish to give us information anonymously, call CrimeStoppers on 0800555111. Alternatively, you can call our Incident Room on 01632 123321. You can also go to our website and find details of our WhatsApp numbers. Let’s get Annie home.”
