You Are Dead

103

Tuesday 23 December

‘Well, it’s not quite home, darling, is it?’

Roy Grace opened his eyes, feeling totally disoriented. The light was too bright, the bed felt unfamiliar, the ceiling looked strange. Fear engulfed him for an instant. Where was he?

What had happened?

Then he saw Cleo’s face above him, looking at him strangely, with a quizzical grin.

What was going on? Where—?

She leaned down and kissed him tenderly on his forehead.

Where — where was he?

‘You are crazy, my love,’ she said.

‘Crazy?’

His right leg was throbbing painfully. He saw a woman standing beside Cleo in a pale blue shirt. A name tag was pinned to it, which he couldn’t read. She looked like a nurse. Next to her stood a man of about fifty, in dark blue surgical scrubs, and blue and white gauze, like a J-cloth, tied with tapes around his head.

‘Welcome back, Detective Superintendent Grace,’ the nurse said.

‘Back?’ Grace said. He was trying to piece together things in his mind. The tunnel. Dr Crisp. The shotgun.

The man in scrubs stepped forward. ‘How are you feeling, old chap?’

‘My right leg’s hurting like hell!’

‘I’m not surprised. I’ve removed eleven shotgun pellets from it. You’re lucky, another few inches and you might have lost your leg. We’ll keep the pain under control and you’ll be back on your pins in a couple of weeks. Although it’ll be a bit tender for a few weeks, I’m afraid.’ He gave him a lopsided smile. ‘Sorry, should have introduced myself. I’m Rupert Verrell, a consultant surgeon here.’

It was all coming back to him now. ‘I didn’t realize it was that bad. Thank you.’

‘Double-barrel shotguns at close range are not good news — thought you as a detective would be the first person to know that.’

‘Yep, well I do now,’ he said.

‘You had a lucky escape — he was clearly a lousy shot.’

‘Glenn told me what you did, darling,’ Cleo said. ‘You are bloody nuts! A few inches in another direction and I might have been a grieving widow.’

‘How long have I been here?’ Roy Grace asked, feeling sudden panic.

‘Two days, darling,’ Cleo said.

‘What’s the date today?’ he asked.

Cleo gave him a chiding look. ‘December 23rd.’

‘What’s the time?’

She glanced at her watch. ‘Five past ten.’

‘Morning?’

‘Yes, morning!’

‘Shit!’ He tried to sit up — and instantly felt as if a red-hot poker was being pressed against his leg. ‘Yoowwwww!’ He closed his eyes, wincing. ‘I’ve got to go shopping!’ he said. ‘I’ve got tons of stuff to get — I have to get your card, your presents!’ And, he suddenly remembered, he’d got nothing yet for his godchild, Jaye, either.

‘There’s no way you’re going shopping today, old chap,’ the surgeon said. ‘Unless you’re planning on doing it online.’

‘You’re not seriously keeping me in here over Christmas? We’ve just moved into our new house — I–I’ve got to be at home with my family. I’ve got to get out and buy presents!’

‘I’ve got my present,’ Cleo said. ‘It’s you. You being OK, being alive, that’s the only present I need this Christmas.’

Grace stared up at her, despondently. ‘God, darling, I am so sorry.’

‘Remember what you told me when I was pregnant with Noah?’

He winced in pain again, then shook his head. ‘No, what?’

‘That your job was to catch and lock up the bad guys, to make the world a safer place for your unborn child and me. Well, that’s what you did. I may be mad as hell at you for putting your life at risk, but I’m proud of you. I don’t know many people who are married to real heroes. Noah and I will celebrate Christmas with you here in the hospital. It’ll be different from the one we planned. But hey, we’ll make it a good one. Right?’ She squeezed his hand.

He smiled up at her, blinking away tears, and squeezed her hand back. Then he heard the voice of the nurse, detached and bossy.

‘Your husband needs to sleep now.’

‘Darling, before you go, what’s happened to Crisp?’

‘I just know they’re still digging.’