Conrad said tentatively. ‘Tell me this isn’t connected to Simone Henderson. Because we’ve already got our hands full with our own investigation.’
He had been worried that this would happen. That as soon as his boss heard about what had happened to Simone Henderson that he would go all out to apprehend whoever had done this to her. Regardless of the consequences.
Brady looked at Conrad’s worried expression.
‘No, like I said, I want to cover all possibilities with our case,’ calmly reassured Brady. ‘Now we’ve got that sorted, get your jacket. We need to be somewhere, which means rescheduling the briefing for 2pm.’
Conrad didn’t move.
‘Come on, Conrad. We haven’t got all day,’ stated Brady as he stood up.
‘Sir? I’m sorry … about Simone.’
Brady nodded.
‘I know you are,’ he answered. ‘So am I.’
Chapter Ten
‘Left here.’ The sudden instruction from Brady came halfway through a conversation on his BlackBerry. ‘No, not you!’ His attention returned to the person on the other end of the line. ‘I’m talking to Conrad. Listen, I’ll call you later. Alright?’
‘Bloody hell, Jack!’ replied Rubenfeld. ‘This won’t wait.’
‘That’s the same line you’ve been threatening me for years. Give me a couple of hours and I’ll get back to you and then we’ll meet? Call you later,’ concluded Brady, not giving the hardened hack a chance to argue.
‘I said left,’ repeated Brady, relighting his cigarette.
‘Sir?’ Conrad asked as he turned to Brady.
‘What?’ asked Brady as he dragged on his cigarette.
‘Do you think this is a good idea?’
‘It is if I want to find out what’s happened to our murder victim.’
‘As long as you remember that’s why we’re here, sir,’ warned Conrad as he pulled into Rake Lane Hospital.
‘Drop me off at the emergency entrance. Then meet me at the morgue,’ Brady instructed, ignoring Conrad’s comment.
Conrad didn’t reply.
Instead, his steel-grey eyes looked straight ahead as he did as he was told and parked by the emergency entrance. His strong jaw remained firmly set as he watched Brady get out, throwing what was left of his cigarette butt to the ground.
Conrad noticed that the ground was covered in cigarette butts. Smoked by either patients driven to distraction by their prognosis, or their equally worried relatives.
He watched Brady stride towards the entrance. He knew exactly where he was heading. And that was straight for trouble. He didn’t trust Brady to let it go. He decided to park the car and then follow him. The problem was, he knew exactly where he would go – and it wouldn’t be the morgue.
Without looking back at Conrad or the car, Brady made his way through the addicts who were standing, regardless of the smoking ban now in place on the hospital grounds, shivering in dressing gowns and slippers, with tubes attached to their arms and portable oxygen tanks or morphine drips.
Desperate wasn’t the word.
Brady walked straight over to the reception desk and flashed his ID badge at the receptionist.
‘Here to see Simone Henderson,’ Brady said.
The receptionist nodded at Brady before keying the name into the hospital’s database.
‘ICU, Ward 7, Room 2,’ she replied when she found her.
Grateful, Brady nodded.
Before he turned away the receptionist stopped him.
She conspiratorially bent forward.
‘I think you should know that two men were in first thing this morning asking if they could see her. I thought it was suspicious at the time since she’s under police protection and they obviously weren’t officers.’
‘What did they look like? The two men?’ Brady asked.
‘Maybe late twenties, early thirties? Dark, good-looking. Well-built. And they had a funny accent like they were foreign. Definitely not from around here.’
Brady accepted that anyone who didn’t have a Geordie accent was seen as being foreign in North Tyneside.
‘I thought they were lawyers or something
He had been worried that this would happen. That as soon as his boss heard about what had happened to Simone Henderson that he would go all out to apprehend whoever had done this to her. Regardless of the consequences.
Brady looked at Conrad’s worried expression.
‘No, like I said, I want to cover all possibilities with our case,’ calmly reassured Brady. ‘Now we’ve got that sorted, get your jacket. We need to be somewhere, which means rescheduling the briefing for 2pm.’
Conrad didn’t move.
‘Come on, Conrad. We haven’t got all day,’ stated Brady as he stood up.
‘Sir? I’m sorry … about Simone.’
Brady nodded.
‘I know you are,’ he answered. ‘So am I.’
Chapter Ten
‘Left here.’ The sudden instruction from Brady came halfway through a conversation on his BlackBerry. ‘No, not you!’ His attention returned to the person on the other end of the line. ‘I’m talking to Conrad. Listen, I’ll call you later. Alright?’
‘Bloody hell, Jack!’ replied Rubenfeld. ‘This won’t wait.’
‘That’s the same line you’ve been threatening me for years. Give me a couple of hours and I’ll get back to you and then we’ll meet? Call you later,’ concluded Brady, not giving the hardened hack a chance to argue.
‘I said left,’ repeated Brady, relighting his cigarette.
‘Sir?’ Conrad asked as he turned to Brady.
‘What?’ asked Brady as he dragged on his cigarette.
‘Do you think this is a good idea?’
‘It is if I want to find out what’s happened to our murder victim.’
‘As long as you remember that’s why we’re here, sir,’ warned Conrad as he pulled into Rake Lane Hospital.
‘Drop me off at the emergency entrance. Then meet me at the morgue,’ Brady instructed, ignoring Conrad’s comment.
Conrad didn’t reply.
Instead, his steel-grey eyes looked straight ahead as he did as he was told and parked by the emergency entrance. His strong jaw remained firmly set as he watched Brady get out, throwing what was left of his cigarette butt to the ground.
Conrad noticed that the ground was covered in cigarette butts. Smoked by either patients driven to distraction by their prognosis, or their equally worried relatives.
He watched Brady stride towards the entrance. He knew exactly where he was heading. And that was straight for trouble. He didn’t trust Brady to let it go. He decided to park the car and then follow him. The problem was, he knew exactly where he would go – and it wouldn’t be the morgue.
Without looking back at Conrad or the car, Brady made his way through the addicts who were standing, regardless of the smoking ban now in place on the hospital grounds, shivering in dressing gowns and slippers, with tubes attached to their arms and portable oxygen tanks or morphine drips.
Desperate wasn’t the word.
Brady walked straight over to the reception desk and flashed his ID badge at the receptionist.
‘Here to see Simone Henderson,’ Brady said.
The receptionist nodded at Brady before keying the name into the hospital’s database.
‘ICU, Ward 7, Room 2,’ she replied when she found her.
Grateful, Brady nodded.
Before he turned away the receptionist stopped him.
She conspiratorially bent forward.
‘I think you should know that two men were in first thing this morning asking if they could see her. I thought it was suspicious at the time since she’s under police protection and they obviously weren’t officers.’
‘What did they look like? The two men?’ Brady asked.
‘Maybe late twenties, early thirties? Dark, good-looking. Well-built. And they had a funny accent like they were foreign. Definitely not from around here.’
Brady accepted that anyone who didn’t have a Geordie accent was seen as being foreign in North Tyneside.
‘I thought they were lawyers or something
Similar Books
