Eye for an Eye

was the son of that couple, the man found murdered on the West Sands and the woman who disappeared. You remember them?’
    ‘I do indeed, sir.’
    ‘He’s to be arraigned tomorrow morning for murder.’
    Gilchrist almost stumbled. ‘Murder, sir?’
    ‘His ex-girlfriend. Alice McGhee. And her boyfriend. German-sounding name.’
    Hearing how close Beth had come to being murdered sent a shiver the length of Gilchrist’s spine.
    ‘Expect his lawyers will plead not guilty by reason of insanity. Apparently the man’s a wreck.’ McVicar shook his head. ‘Sometimes I wonder what the world’s coming to, Andy. I despair. I really do.’
    ‘Mind if I ask a question, sir?’
    ‘Not at all, Andy.’
    ‘You don’t believe Patterson’s version, do you?’
    ‘Not one bit. The man’s proven he’s a damned fool. I had the opportunity of speaking briefly to his wife. Becky witnessed the whole incident from the bedroom window.’
    Gilchrist almost smiled. It had troubled him that in the absence of a witness, Patterson might have convinced those who mattered. ‘Will she be expected to say what happened in front of her husband?’ he asked.
    ‘I wouldn’t put her through that.’
    ‘What’ll become of him, sir? Patterson.’
    McVicar sighed. ‘Not quite sure yet. Need to listen to what he’s got to say for himself, of course. Always try to be fair about that sort of thing. But he made a serious misjudgement in pulling you from the case. That’ll weigh heavily against him. Probably pull him under in the end.’
    They walked on in silence and reached the hospital ten cold minutes later. Gilchrist slipped the blanket from his shoulders and handed it back to McVicar.
    ‘Keep it, Andy.’ McVicar gave Gilchrist’s shoulders a tight squeeze then turned and strode into the night.
    As Gilchrist pushed through the hospital entrance, tiredness swept over him in a wave and he fought off the ridiculous urge to lie down on the cold tarmac and let sleep take him.
     
    Dawn broke to a grey-tinged sky and white-edged roads.
    Gilchrist opened his eyes. The waiting room had filled, but space either side of him lay clear.
    Doctor Ferguson stood before him.
    Gilchrist pulled himself to his feet. ‘I know, I know,’ he said, and took hold of Ferguson’s outstretched hand. ‘No need to stand.’
    ‘But you feel better upright.’
    ‘I do,’ he lied. ‘How is she?’
    ‘Better than you, by the looks of it.’
    ‘Put it down to old age and the rigours of a job meant for the young. Can I see her?’
    Ferguson shook his head. ‘She’ll be out of it for the best part of the morning.’ He frowned at Gilchrist’s head, and said, ‘Follow me.’
    They reached a row of rooms lined with curtains on rails, and Ferguson pulled the first one open to reveal a young woman in hospital scrubs writing on a medical chart.
    ‘Nurse Simmons will attend to your head wound,’ he said, then closed the curtain before Gilchrist could respond.
    He sat, eyes half-shut, and let the nurse unwind his bandage. As she eased it from his crusted wound, she said, ‘Now, how did you manage to do this to yourself?’
    ‘Got into a fight.’
    ‘At your age?’
    ‘Didn’t know I looked that old.’
    Nurse Simmons let out a staccato chuckle that he found refreshing, and began to work around his head like a hairdresser. She clipped off more of his hair and gave him an injection above the ear before cleaning the wound and sewing in an additional ten stitches, telling him the others looked like they’d been ripped out by the roots. When she finished, she gave him a couple of pills for his headache.
    ‘There you go,’ she said. ‘Good as new.’
    Gilchrist fingered his ear. He had no feeling on most of the left side of his face, all the way to his lower jaw.
    ‘You can go home,’ she added.
    Why? thought Gilchrist. And it struck him then how empty his life had become, how he missed his family, how he longed to hear their voices and be surrounded by the careless clatter and rattle of everyday life. How nice it would be to have a pint with Jack, or a meal with Maureen, or just phone them up and say,
How about I pop round and take you out? My treat.
And he saw that with Gail’s impending death, a huge part of what had been his family, his life, and what was to become his future, would simply vanish.
    ‘Do you have a car?’ Nurse Simmons asked.
    Gilchrist frowned, then remembered he had left his Merc in Patterson’s drive. ‘No,’ he