Split Second - [9]

‘He’ll be going up for the scan in a moment,’ Dr Liu said. A knock on the door made them all turn. It was the police.

He took them into a side room. Louise hated leaving Luke, but the police officer said it would only be for a few minutes.

‘What happened?’ She had agreed to tell the officer anything she could to help, but she was also frantic to know how it had come to this.

‘He was attacked by three youths earlier this evening,’ the man said.

A sea of fury swelled inside, the waves smashing against the rock of her heart. ‘Where? Why?’

‘Kingsway. We don’t know why yet.’

‘Because he’s black?’ Louise said. Pity and grief and hurt swirling through her. Laced with guilt too, because her first thoughts had been that Luke had done something silly and got himself hurt. But someone had done this to him. Deliberately battered him.

‘We’ll be looking into that as a possibility.’ The man had his notebook open; he twisted his wrist and read his watch, jotted down the time. ‘I just need all the formal details out of the way: name, address, date of birth and so on.’

She gave him those, then he asked her when she’d last seen Luke.

‘Tea time. Half six. Then he went out.’

‘Where was he going? Did he say?’

‘He’s a teenager; “out” is all I get. Sometimes he goes into town with his mates, but he wasn’t dressed up or anything.’

‘Where else?’

Round Declan’s getting stoned, she thought, or in the park. But in this weather? Mind, they didn’t feel the cold, did they, kids; image was more important. ‘Perhaps just with his mates.’

‘I’ll need their details.’

She nodded. ‘The people that did this. Who are they?’

‘We’ve not identified them yet.’

‘Do you think they knew him?’ She was desperate for answers, for meaning, for sense.

He took a breath, scratched his head. ‘I don’t think anything; I’m just asking the questions we need to ask. Has Luke been in any trouble recently?’

‘No,’ she said. He had settled on an apprenticeship as an electrician. One of Carl’s mates had taken him on. He didn’t like the college part, but he’d gone along each week so far. And he’d wired some outside lights for Christmas. Rigging them up in the sycamore tree at the corner of the garden. It looked great – big, soft white globes, way better than the tacky flashing Santas and cartoon reindeers on the house opposite. She’d been so proud of him, and excited at the prospect that he might find his footing working in the trade. Make a good living. Settle into his own skin and forget about the army.

‘Any history of trouble in the past?’ the policeman asked her.

She sighed, worried that her answer would influence how he thought of Luke and what effort they’d put into catching his attackers. ‘A couple of cautions for antisocial behaviour and criminal damage.’

The officer waited, his pen poised. ‘Why was that, then?’ Did she imagine it, or had his tone changed, the warmth leaking away?

‘Messing with fireworks,’ she said, ‘and some graffiti.’ He could find out anyway – she didn’t want to appear uncooperative and add to any impression he might have that her family was a bad lot. ‘But he’s turned things around now,’ she said as brightly as she could manage. ‘He’s got an apprenticeship, as an electrician.’

He wrote it down. ‘Anything else you can tell me?’

‘He said he’d be back about eleven.’

‘Ruby?’ The man shifted his attention to her. ‘Anything else?’

She shook her head.

Louise swallowed. Sat up in her seat, determined to keep on top of it all, to just do what had to be done. To fight the impulse to withdraw into sorrow and shut down.

‘There was another victim,’ the policeman said. ‘Jason Barnes, do you know him?’

Louise shook her head.

‘He didn’t make it.’

‘What!’ She tried to untangle what he was saying. Saw the resignation in his eyes. ‘Oh my God. Oh no.’ She couldn’t stop trembling. Thinking that could have been Luke. Dead. Killed.

‘I’m sorry,’ she managed to respond. ‘Can we go now?’ she asked, rising. Her head spinning, her knees weak as straw. She had to get back to him. Dread pooling in her belly, between her shoulder blades. ‘Please?’ She had to be there, watch over him, keep him safe.

He nodded, and she held on to Ruby’s arm for support and numbly retraced her steps.

Andrew

The light on the snow was blinding, Andrew winced and narrowed his eyes. Two men were clearing the paths; the clang of shovels on the stone rang loud in the air. The snow muffled the other sounds, shushing the city.

He had moved the car in the middle of the night, sweeping clods of snow from the windscreen, the frosty air stinging his nostrils and nipping at his ankles; he had pulled on shoes but not socks in the race to get to the hospital.

Now they walked to the car park. ‘You’d better ring your parents,’ Val said.

This could kill Dad, he thought, already battling high blood pressure and angina. ‘I’ll tell Colin.’ His older brother lived close to the family home. ‘He can go round there.’ He pulled out his phone.

‘In the car.’ Val frowned.

He didn’t understand.

‘Less noise,’ she said dully. There was nothing for him in her expression, no affection, no compassion. She was exhausted.