‘I don’t mean you any disrespect, ma’am, but I have to do my job. The search will be fast, and then we’ll be out of your hair.’ The cop touches his hand to his forehead in a makeshift salute, then follows his officers into the house.
Miss Betty doesn’t look pleased. She turns to Rick and Philip. ‘Why aren’t you stopping them?’
‘We can’t,’ says Rick. ‘They’ve got a warrant. Legally, you have to give them access.’ He turns to Philip. ‘Look, I talked to Moira. Things went bad at the CCTV office. Hank’s been attacked, and it sounds like Moira’s injured. Cops and medical are on their way. I’m going there now.’
‘I’m coming with you,’ says Philip.
Rick looks back to Miss Betty. ‘Call your grandson a lawyer, Miss Betty. And make sure they’re real good at what they do. He’s going to need it.’
‘You think he killed that girl?’ says Miss Betty.
‘No, I don’t. But he’s going to have a hard time proving that to the cops.’ Rick looks from Miss Betty to Martha. ‘Keep me in the loop on whatever happens, and I’ll do the same. If you need me, I’ll be on my cell.’
‘You’re leaving right away, when I’ve got a house full of police doing who knows what to my private belongings?’ Miss Betty says, clenching her fists. ‘What kind of gentlemen are you? Why aren’t you staying here and helping me? How can you—’
‘I am helping you, ma’am,’ says Rick, trying to keep his tone even. ‘I’m helping you and your grandson, because I’m going to find out what the hell is going on and prove Mikey isn’t the murderer.’
35
MOIRA
Moira’s eyes don’t want to stay open. She feels as if there are weights on her lids, pushing them down, no matter how hard she tries to stay alert. Forcing herself to move, she shuffles closer to Hank. He’s still unconscious and his skin has a greyish, waxy look to it that can’t be a good thing. She checks again that his pulse is still there and is relieved when she feels it, but as she counts the beats her relief mingles with concern. Hank’s pulse is slower and weaker than it was a few minutes earlier. She glances towards the door to the Surveillance Suite and hopes help arrives soon.
She looks at Hank’s ashen face. Putting her hand on his arm, she tries to muster her most convincing voice. ‘Hang on in there, Hank. Help is coming.’
His eyes flicker.
‘Can you hear me, Hank? It’s Moira. I’m a new resident here. I found you. You’ve been injured. Help is on the way.’
Hank’s eyes open, darting from side to side, unfocused. His lips start to move. He’s trying to say something. Moira leans closer. Listens hard. But she can’t make out his words. ‘What’s that?’
Silence.
She looks at his face. His eyes are closed. His mouth is slightly open. He’s lost consciousness again.
Moira curses under her breath. Then she hears voices in the corridor. She thinks she recognises them, but the woozy feeling is back and she feels strange, discombobulated. She swallows back the nausea. Raises her head.
‘I’m in the Surveillance Suite,’ she calls. Her voice sounds odd, weaker.
The footsteps come closer, get louder. The noise of them feels like a pneumatic drill bashing into her brain. Just as she thinks she can’t take the noise a moment longer, Rick rushes into the room with Philip not far behind.
Rick stands above her, looking even more like a hulking giant from her viewpoint on the ground. The worry clear on his face. ‘You okay? What happened?’
‘I’m fine.’ Moira gestures towards Hank. ‘He hit Hank harder, he needs the medics now.’