Last Rites by Neil White Read Free Book Online Page A

she asked, sounding quiet and weak.
    ‘It's all right,’ he said, and took her hand. Her skin was cold and her hand felt brittle. ‘There's no need to move, Miss Hobbs. I'm a police officer.’
    Abigail raised her head, and then she winced and lay back down again. ‘Am I still in the hospital?’ she asked, her Lancashire accent slowed down by the drawl of the countryside.
    ‘Yes, you are,’ he replied, his voice gentle and soothing. ‘You'll be home soon.’
    She took a few short breaths, and then asked, ‘What happened?’
    ‘Someone set you a trap,’ he said.
    She swallowed, and Rod could tell that she was thinking back to the events of the morning.
    ‘Tibbs? I could hear Tibbs. Is he all right?’ she asked.
    He took hold of her hand and gave it a squeeze, as if the action would make her stronger. ‘Tibbs is dead, Miss Hobbs.’
    Abigail gave out a small cry as the events of the morning came back to her. She gripped his hand tightly as she realised what had exploded in front of her eyes.
    He let her cry it out for a while, but when her quiet sobs died away, he asked gently, ‘Who would do that to you?’
    He passed her a tissue, and as she wiped her nose, she replied, ‘I don't know. I've done nothing to harm anyone.’
    ‘No enemies?’
    Abigail waved her hand dismissively. Rod took that as a no, but he wasn't too sure.
    ‘It's happened to other people, not just you,’ said Rod, watching her face for some recognition, but Abigail didn't respond. ‘Have you heard that?’ he pressed. ‘Do you know these other people?’
    She turned away.
    ‘Miss Hobbs?’
    ‘Go to your family,’ she said.
    ‘How do you know I've got a family?’
    ‘You have a kind voice,’ she said softly. ‘That comes from contentment. And your family are waiting for you.’
    That stalled him for a moment, but he asked again, ‘What's going on, Miss Hobbs?’
    Abigail didn't answer. She rolled over in the bed so that he couldn't see her face any more.
    He stood. ‘Sorry to have disturbed you,’ he said. ‘If you want to tell me anything, get in touch.’ And he wrote his name and number on a scrap of paper and placed it on the small cupboard next to Abigail's bed.
    His footsteps were just light taps as he left the room. No one else stirred. He took one last look at Abigail, but she hadn't moved.
    I waited for Laura in a coffee bar a few minutes' walk from the police station, in a cobbled backstreet with views over the cathedral gardens. It had a mocha coloured shop-front and rickety metal tables, none of the bright lights of the chain coffee-houses, but it sold good coffee and that was enough.
    I had been thinking about Katie Gray, how she had been with me, that touch of her hand before I left. But then I saw Laura at the end of the street, and I felt a jump. Was it guilt? Or was it something better than that? Perhaps it was the excitement I used to have when I saw Laura, that feeling that I had got luckier than I deserved.
    She flashed a quick look down the backstreet but then she waved when she saw me looking out of the window. I asked the café owner for another cappuccino and reached out my hand as she sat down. My fingers brushed over her knuckles, like we were stealing moments together.
    ‘I'm sorry about this morning,’ I said softly.
    Laura moved her hand away. ‘Are you softening me up for something I don't want to hear?’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    Laura sighed and then it turned into a smile. ‘I love you to death, Jack Garrett,’ she said, ‘but if you need to see me, and it's to do with work, I need to worry.’
    I reached out for her hand again. She didn't move it this time, and I felt her fingers grip mine. They felt different to Katie's. Older somehow, her skin dry, the veins showing on the back of her hand.
    ‘I went to see Sam Nixon this morning,’ I said.
    ‘I know. Keep going.’
    ‘He wanted me to meet someone. Two people in fact.’ I paused for effect, to make sure I could properly gauge