Lincoln cringed.
In the distance, he heard a siren.
“I tell you, she just stabbed her in cold blood,” a middle-aged woman said to the police officer taking notes.
“I saw the whole thing,” a bald old man said, shaking his head. “They were arguing-”
“How do you know?”
“That dead girl said so after I asked the other girl, the one who ran away, if she was okay – she shouted for help, you see. Anyway, then the girl who ran away, she hit that dead girl on the head with that piece of wood. Next thing you know, they were fighting and, well, that’s how it ended up. Damn shame. What’s the world coming to?”
“Could you describe the girl who ran away?” the police officer asked.
“Sure,” the old man said. “She had short black hair, not too tall, about five and a bit – reminded me of someone on the telly.” He chewed his lip as though ruminating. “It’ll come to me eventually. Now where was I, oh yes, five and a bit, dressed like a modern-day hippy.”
“Did you hear what they were arguing about?”
“No, I was sitting waiting for my bus, over there. Missed the blasted thing now. Her indoors will give me what for if I’m not back soon.”
“Did anyone hear what they were arguing about?” the officer asked.
A few people shook their heads.
“I remember now,” the old man said. “She reminded me of that girl from that pirate film. What was it called?” He scrunched his face as he tried to think.
“Long John Silver,” someone said.
“Treasure Island?”
“Moby Dick.”
“That’s not a pirate film,” a man snapped.
“No, a new film,” the old man replied.
“Pirates of the Caribbean,” a teenage boy shouted.
“That’s the one. Now what was her name, the girl in it. Skinny girl, but pretty.”
“Keira Knightley,” the same boy said.
“Yes, that’s who she reminded me of, Keira Knightley, but with a few extra pounds and more, you know, up top.”
The police officer continued to make notes.
Up ahead, a bus approached and stopped at the bus stop. Lincoln weaved through the crowd and jumped aboard.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
Lincoln had a moment of panic. “Where do you go?”
The driver frowned. “Town circular.”
“Anywhere near Temple Hospital?”
The driver nodded.
“Hospital then.”
The driver told him the price, and Lincoln had another moment of panic when he didn’t know whether he had any money on him. He slipped his hand in his pocket and pulled out some change that he dropped into the receptacle.
The driver issued him with a ticket, and the doors slid shut behind Lincoln. He turned, looked outside and saw the nurse looking up at him, then the bus pulled away from the kerb, causing Lincoln to grab the support pole to stop himself from falling.
He needed to get back to the hospital and talk to a doctor to get to the bottom of what the hell was happening, because after losing an arm, the last thing he wanted was to go fuckin’ crazy as well.
CHAPTER 11
Joanna shook uncontrollably. She had just killed her best friend. Tears coursed down her cheeks and she put her face in her hands and sobbed.
She couldn’t understand how it happened. What had Lincoln done to Nina? What had she done to Nina?
Panicked by the screams and shouts of the shoppers, she had run; now she didn’t know whether she should have stayed - running away made her seem guilty of something, which she wasn’t, at least not entirely. It was an accident. She would tell them that. Tell them that it wasn’t Nina she killed. At least she didn’t think it was – didn’t actually know who or what it was to be honest.
A siren blared in the distance, making her cringe. Were they looking for her? Should she turn herself in?
Of course they’re looking for me, she admonished herself. I’ve just killed someone.
Even the thought made her shudder. There had been so much blood.
But if she turned herself in and said it was an accident, they’d be lenient, wouldn’t they?
She ran through it in her head. But whichever way she looked at it, they weren’t going to believe her. Her friend wasn’t really her friend at the time she killed her, because she was already dead, having been killed by someone else. Someone who then brought her back to life, and now wanted to kill Joanna. Well, they would lock her up in a padded cell and throw away the key.
She couldn’t believe she had found herself in this mess.
She wiped away her tears, didn’t know what to do next.
If she went home, the police might be waiting for her. But they didn’t know who she was, at least not yet. And of course, Lincoln might still be there, which was another reason she couldn’t return.
The alley she crouched in was behind an Indian restaurant, the aroma from which made her stomach grumble. The bins reeked of curry and spices. She looked up. Fat oozed from a fan on the wall, as though the building was undergoing liposuction, which tempered the grumble in her stomach.
The tears soothed her eyes a little, but she needed her drops, which were back at the apartment, but no way was she going back there.
It wouldn’t be long before the witnesses issued the police with her description, and then when an artist stepped in, they would have a representation to work with, and as soon as they showed it around the area, people would recognise her and that would be it.
No, before that happened she needed some proof, needed to discover what Lincoln was up to, and fast.
Cars circled the hospital car park like sharks as they searched for a space. Joanna ran between them and made her way towards the A & E reception.
She saw Stephen sitting behind the desk, trying to placate an irate man with blood gushing from a cut on his arm.
When he saw Joanna, he frowned and spoke to a colleague who took over his seat before he stepped out to join her.
“Jo, what’s up? You look terrible.”
“Thanks.”
“No, seriously, what’s happened?”
She didn’t know how much to reveal, as he would undoubtedly freak out if she admitted that she had just killed someone. And not just anyone. Nina. Tears filled her eyes.
“Jo!” He put an arm around her shoulder and guided her along the corridor to a small room decorated in pale yellow with a drinks machine that dispensed tea and coffee, comfortable looking chairs and a table.
“This is the new bereavement room,” Stephen said, filling the silence.
Joanna shook her head, unable to believe the aptness of where he’d brought her. She sat in the chair, which felt as comfortable as it looked – she could go to sleep, hoping that when she awoke the nightmare wouldn’t be real.
“Your eyes look sore. Have you been using your drops?”
“I need some more. But forget that for now. We need to talk.”
“This sounds serious. Would you like a drink first?”
Joanna nodded. “Coffee. Black.”
“That’s not your usual.”
“No, but I need something strong.”
Stephen walked across to the machine and poured two drinks before walking back and sitting down in the chair next to Joanna.
“So what is it?” he asked as he passed the drink across.
Joanna took a sip of the steaming beverage. It tasted bitter and burned her throat, but she didn’t care. Suddenly cold, she closed her palms around the cup to receive some of the warmth.
Stephen stared at her as he waited for a reply.
She peered at her drink, looking for inspiration. The reflection of the fluorescent light above wavered on the surface. Through her Fuchs’ eye, the light became a glare and she looked away.