Echoes of Lies Read Online Free Page B

charge me I’ll want to call my solicitor.” Her eyes were full of misgivings, but still the threat of prosecution didn’t seem to disturb her as much as knowing what she’d contributed to.
    â€œI’m not charging you; not yet. I want you to come to the hospital with me. There’s something I want to show you.”

Chapter 3
    She had no idea what to expect. But she was familiar enough with Dimmock General Hospital to know that the mortuary was in the basement. Detective Inspector Deacon parked at an unmarked rear entrance and led her upstairs. At least she was to be spared the ultimate humiliation of seeing what her unthinking cleverness had led to. All the way over here she’d been afraid he wanted to show her the body.
    He knew where he was going, twisted and turned without hesitation until a shut door blocked their way. A policeman sitting in the corridor rose to his feet. “Sir?”
    â€œI’m letting Mrs Farrell in on our little secret,” said Deacon heavily. One hand pushed the door open while the other, firm in the small of her back, pressed Brodie inside.
    Inside were all the trappings of intensive care but only one bed and one nurse who looked up at the sound of the door. She recognised Deacon and nodded a greeting.
    â€œAny change?” he asked.
    â€œNot a lot.”
    â€œThat’s good? Bad?”
    She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Inspector, I can’t tell you anything more than the doctors already have.”
    The bed was occupied but Brodie could see almost nothing of the patient. High-tech medical equipment clustered around his head like old women gossiping about what had put him there. Tubes ran up his nose, down his throat and into his veins, and his eyelids were taped shut. On a dark screen a blue line described a series of peaks and valleys. A monitor ticked off every heartbeat with audible relief.
    Heartbeats. Shallow, irregular, the sort of pulse to make an insurance assessor blanche, but heartbeats for all that.
    Brodie Farrell turned to DI Deacon with fury in her eyes. “You animal!” she cried. “He’s alive! He’s alive, and you didn’t tell me.”
    Jack Deacon had been called worse with less reason. He bore her
anger stoicly. “Mrs Farrell, you’re only here because I don’t think you’re responsible for this. If I did I’d have let you go on believing that the paper got it right and Daniel Hood died of his injuries.
    â€œThat wasn’t careless reporting, it’s what I told them. There’ll be hell to pay but I don’t care. I don’t want whoever did this to know he’s still alive. If they think he’s dead he’s safe, and maybe he’ll get well enough to tell me who they were and what it was all about. If they knew he was alive they’d come back. They were professionals; the evidence is written all over him, and I don’t want my officers risking their lives against professional killers if there’s an alternative.”
    Brodie hardly knew what to think or how to feel. She thought she’d helped strangers to murder a man she’d never even met, for money. She hadn’t guessed that was what she was doing, but for the last two hours it was what she believed she had done. Now it seemed no one had actually died; at least not yet.
    But why had they come here? Why was Detective Inspector Deacon taking such a gamble? “Inspector,” she managed, “what do you want from me?”
    â€œWhat we talked about: a statement and an E-fit.”
    â€œWe can’t do either of them here. What am I doing here ? What is it you want me to see?”
    Deacon debated with himself for a moment. What he was contemplating wasn’t nice but it might be helpful. It was reason enough. He stepped over to the bed and, before Brodie could anticipate what he intended or the nurse protest, threw back the sheet. “This.”
    If he’d expected