Reckoning Point, стр. 39
It was Smith. He was naked, which I'm sure these young women would normally find a pleasing sight, but today there was nothing pleasing about Smith.
He was walking down the road with slow, jerky movements. People shouted in horror as he reached out his arms to them and they jumped out of his way.
‘Look after him.’ Mark’s last words reverberated in my mind over and over, and all I could think about was the trouble I'd be in if Smith escaped, or worse, if people realised what had been done to him and Mark got in trouble for it.
I ran down the stairs and burst out into the street. Smith hadn't got very far and I hurried towards him, my eyes flicking left and right, anywhere that I didn't have to look at his naked body, and the telltale trail of blood that tracked its way from his behind down the back of his finely muscled thighs.
When I reached him I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to touch him. But he stopped, almost as though he sensed I was there and he sat down on the edge of the road.
People hurried past, done a double take, stopped, looked, and then, when they felt the horror that was no doubt emanating off the both of us, they moved on, quickening their pace.
“Smith, you have to come back with me,” I whispered urgently.
His head jerked at my words and he opened his lovely, lopsided mouth. “Ugh,” he said.
I was close to tears myself. I wrung my hands as I talked quietly but urgently to Smith. Pleading, imploring …
Then, just as I thought it couldn’t get any worse, I heard the telltale siren announcing that the police had arrived.
37
NAOMI WILSON and THE DOCTOR
HOLLAND SPOOR
9.7.15 Early evening
Naomi parks her car up in the designated parking areas three streets away from the surgery. She has official business there of course, and nobody would question her, but knowing herself that it’s not strictly business on her part is enough to make her conceal her tracks as much as possible. She waits until she’s sure he’s got no other patients that evening, and as the sun starts to dip and a chill creeps in, she rings the doorbell.
She hears him on the other side and she straightens herself and plasters a smile on her face as he opens the door.
“Miss Wilson,” he says, emphasising the ‘miss’. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
He’s not her favourite person, not even close, but Bram is the only doctor that she knows who doesn’t put everything through the books. And as he steps back and gestures for her to come in, she swallows back her dislike for him and mentally prepares herself.
He takes his time closing the door and she takes the opportunity to watch him. He looks to be in pretty good nick for a man who must be in his sixties, but he’s still slow moving. She looks around the hallway, noting the cleanliness, knowing his lives on his own, wondering if he hires a cleaner to keep it so immaculate.
“Are you restocking?” he asks as he shows her into his office. “Because you’re going to have to go through the proper channels, I’m very low myself.”
Once, just once when she had chosen to spend an extra day at home with Erik she had come to Bram for medication instead of going through the main GG&GD dispensary, and since then he’d never let her forget it. But this time, her visit to him isn’t work related, not the way he expects anyway.
“No, not this time, Bram,” she says in reply deliberately using his forename to dilute down his medical status. “This time I’m here as a friend, or a patient, if you will. A friend in need, let’s say.”
It sickens her to have to be nice to him and the glint in his eye suggests he knows he has the upper hand.
“A patient,” he replies, leaning back in his chair and holding his fingertips together underneath his chin. “And a friend. Tell me more.”
Don’t let him see your nerves. Don’t get upset, she tells herself silently. Stay bloody strong. You’re better than this man, in spite of what you need from him.
“I had an incident, at work this month,” she swallows and suddenly her mouth seems awfully dry. “The usual thing, I was tending to a lady, there was … an incident. I’m pretty sure I cleaned myself up okay but she’s an addict and as there was blood … well, I need to be sure I’m not infected.”
She wants to cheer; it sounded plausible to her own ears. But when she looks up at him he’s half smiling. No, actually, he’s almost sneering, and her heart sinks. He knows she’s lied about what actually happened. Damn it.
But he doesn’t say anything like that; he doesn’t tell her that he knows it was a lie. Instead, he simply nods. “I have some time now, we can get it out of the way?”
Maybe she misjudged him, she wonders as tears spring to her eyes. Maybe after working alongside junkies and wife-beaters and screw-ups for so long she’s become disillusioned with everyone. Or maybe it was her own stupid mistake that has made her see she’s no better than the people she deals with on a daily basis. Suddenly, she can’t wait to get back to Erik. Dear, uncomplicated, hard-working Erik, and as Doctor Bastiaan unwraps his needles and sets about getting it all ready, she stops him.
“Thank you,” she murmurs.
He nods in reply and as she rolls her sleeve up she changes the subject.
“What’s with the deaths I’ve been hearing about? Three