23. Chapter 23

23

A lfie woke with a gasp and blinked in the stark white ceiling. It didn't have a crack in it like in his living room at home. A blue curtain surrounded him, and to his left, there was a computer monitor, beeping his heart rhythm. The pillowcase under his head rustled noisily as he turned his head to look at the chair beside the bed. The cannula in the back of his hand caught his attention, and he waited to feel the scratch and pinch of skin, but it didn't come. The chair moved, or the blanket lying on top did, and Tia poked her head out, revealing herself. She gave him a weak smile.

"You're up?" She gripped the top of her nose. "Not up, but awake."

"Is…is this the first time?" he croaked and went to move his hand to his throat, but it snagged on the cannula and he hissed at the sharp sting.

Tia scrunched her brow in sympathy. Her hair wasn't sleek and straight, and the skin under her eyes looked puffy. She yawned, waving her hand. "No, not the first time. You're usually confused after you sleep."

Alfie nodded, taking stock of his body. It didn't hurt, but ached with a strange numbness, like pins and needles, but stronger, all-consuming. It was everywhere.

"So, what happened?"

"What's happened to your body, or what happened to put you here?"

Alfie frowned. "My body."

"Three broken ribs and a fracture to your pelvis."

"I can't feel it," Alfie mumbled.

Tia exhaled sadly through her nose. "Trust me, when the painkillers start wearing off, you'll feel it."

"How long have I been here?"

"Two days. You asked for me when you woke and managed to tell the nurse my number." She bowed her head, then lifted it hesitantly. "Do you remember what happened?"

Alfie frowned and sieved through the mash of memories in his head. "We were driving Nate to the cemetery—Is Nate okay? Dave and Mike?"

Tia frowned. "Dave and Mike are mostly all right, few broken ribs, concussed."

"Nate?"

Tia bit into her lip, then released it with a pop. "Every time you've woken up, you've asked about him first. You look all panicked—"

"Tia, is he all right?"

"As far as anyone knows, he's fine."

Alfie dropped his head back to the pillow. "I don't understand."

"Nate, the psycho who butchered three men, he's on the run. They think he set up the crash. They think it was all his plan."

"He escaped?" Alfie whispered.

"Yeah, but that's where it gets weird. He pulled you from the car, drove you a few miles away from the crash and dumped you in the road."

"What?"

Tia shuddered. "Who knows what he was planning on doing to you before he changed his mind. It's got the police stumped."

"The police?"

Tia nodded. "Yeah, they want to ask you questions, but every time they do, you shut down and say you need sleep."

"I don't remember seeing them."

"Your boss has been in too. What's his name, Riley?"

"Ryan."

Tia nodded. "He's got the most annoying beard ever."

Alfie snorted, remembering how Nate had said it looked like a dirty arse crack. Tears suddenly swelled in his eyes, and he couldn't stop his bottom lip from trembling.

"Is Ryan the guy you've been…"

"No."

Tia bunched her lips and blew. "Phew."

Alfie blinked rapidly and got his leaking eyes under control. Tia didn't comment and didn't try to comfort him. He knew if she did, he would cry harder, and he suspected she knew it too.

"Has anyone else visited?" he asked.

"Some old man, but I doubt he's your lover."

Alfie squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth.

Tia gripped his fingers carefully. "Is it the pain again?"

Alfie opened his eyes and turned to her. "No, just—I don't… My head is just a mess."

"Yeah, and the rest of you." She laughed, but Alfie didn't join in. She stopped, then pulled a guilty expression and shifted in the chair. "Sorry, too soon."

"Wh-when will they let me go home?"

"They said hopefully in a week, but you've got to stay off your feet as much as you can. It's a hairline fracture, but you've still got to be careful, okay?"

Alfie nodded.

The fracture to his heart felt much, much bigger.

Ten days later, Alfie swung his legs from the bed with an impatient growl. The crutches leaning against the bed clattered to the floor, and Tia wagged her finger.

"You're going to hurt yourself more and end up back here."

She leaned down to get the crutches and set them against the bed again.

Alfie clutched the back of his neck with a huff. "Does it really take that long to sign me out?"

"They're busy people."

"I've been waiting for hours."

His nurse, Sally, poked her head through the curtain. Her hair was black and curly, and many times Alfie had found strands on his sheets. She wore a professional smile that didn't reach her eyes, and Alfie didn't blame her for faking it. He wasn't a happy sight to look at.

"It's the day you've been waiting for," she said.

"Yeah, and I want to leave in the day, not at night."

Tia flicked the back of his hand. "Stop it. You're a terrible patient."

"Yeah, I am. I just want to get home and take care of myself."

"Your keys and your smashed phone are at reception, along with your prescription, but what do you want to do with this?"

She lifted the bag in her hand and raised an eyebrow.

Alfie stared at it, then at Sally. "What?"

"These were the clothes you were bought in wearing. Do you want to keep them?"

Alfie looked again, and his heart quickened when he saw the charcoal coat through the clear plastic. "No-no thanks."

"Are you kidding?" Tia squeaked. "The coat is worth a fortune. There's no blood on it, right?"

Sally drew her eyebrows together. "Erm, maybe a little."

"No matter, I'll take it."

"No!" Alfie snapped. "No one's taking it. I want it thrown away."

Tia and Sally shared a concerned look that Alfie pretended he didn't see.

"Okay, I'll throw it. You've just got to come to the front desk with me, and we'll do the paperwork."

Alfie closed his eyes slowly. "Thank you."

He dropped down as gently as he could onto his feet and took a step forward.

Sally shook her head. "I've got a chair for you."

"A chair?"

Sally slapped her professional smile on. "Yeah, to wheel you out."

"Great," he hissed.

Tia chatted the whole way back in the taxi.

Alfie knew it was nervous blabbering.

The entire time he had been in hospital, he'd been snappy and impatient. His ribs ached with every movement, and he breathed shallowly to lessen the burn. His hip felt fine, but they constantly told him off for trying to walk without his crutches.

Worse than the discomfort and the frustration, he hated relying on others. He knew eventually they would turf him out, and he wanted them to do it as quickly as possible, not let him linger and get familiar with the staff.

Tia had been there.

She wasn't there because it was her job or out of a sense of duty like Henry, Glen, and Marie, but because she cared about him.

Alfie caught her hand in his and squeezed gently.

Tia snapped her jaw shut immediately.

"Thank you," he whispered.

She shook her head. "You don't have to thank me."

"Yeah, I do. I've been horrible."

"It's okay. Everything's confusing. Not just the crash, but I bet you're wondering why he pulled you from the car."

Alfie wondered, but he didn't like to think about it. Nate had left him to die away from the car, sprawled out like roadkill. Nate, who had escaped and vanished.

Tia shuddered. "Freaks me out thinking about it. He's been all over the news. You never said there were people like that at Larkwood."

"You knew there were murderers and rapists."

"But not vindictive psychopaths who—"

Alfie raised his hand, and she pressed her lips together.

She exhaled through her nose, seemingly getting herself under control. "Sorry. Must be creepy knowing you could've ended up like them."

The taxi screeched to a stop on the kerb, and Tia paid the fair.

Alfie swung his legs from the car carefully, then placed his crutches on the ground before heaving himself up.

Tia followed, and he could feel her eyes glued to him the whole way to the door.

"I'll transfer you the money for the taxi."

"What are you talking about? I'm coming in."

He turned to her and shook his head. "I really just want to be on my own."

Tia scrunched her face in sympathy. "You sure?"

He forced his lips into what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "I'm sure. Now go before he drives off."

"I'm going to call you later, and you'd better pick up."

"I will," he promised, then hobbled inside.

His duvet was still on the sofa, and the dirty plates were stacked high in the sink. It wasn't the welcome home of movies with banners and balloons. It was the welcome from a lonely house and a lonely existence.

Alfie couldn't recall breaking down in the hospital, and Tia didn't say he had, but when he lowered himself to the sofa and stared out the window at the sign for Larkwood, he sobbed into his palms.

Nate had left him.

The noises escaping him didn't sound human but cruel and tortured. He was nothing but an animal snared in his own trap. He reached for the duvet, shoved it over his mouth and screamed until the painkillers faded and he passed out from the burn in his ribs.

Alfie didn't believe it was possible to feel any worse, but there was a knock on the door the next day and his heart sped up. The only person who visited was Tia, and she walked straight in, twirling her key. That meant it was a delivery. Pizza, clothing, groceries, he didn't care as long as it was something from Nate. He hopped on his crutches, balanced on one, then opened the door wide.

A police officer stood on the other side, stern-faced, with a notepad in his hand. "Alfie Bridges?"

He nodded. "That's me."

"I'm Police Constable Martin Price from Marshall Police Station. Here to ask you a few questions."

Alfie had avoided them at the hospital, faked drowsiness and pain when they approached. He didn't want to be quizzed on the crash. He wanted to lock the incident away to dissect later with a sound mind.

"Does it have to be right now?"

Martin nodded. "Yes, yes it does."

Alfie hopped back into the living room and resettled himself in the groove on the sofa.

"How's the hip?"

"Pelvis," Alfie mumbled, "and ribs. I'm sore, but I can move if I take it easy."

Martin perched at the other end of the sofa, as far away as physically possible. "My colleagues will be along shortly."

Alfie frowned. "Colleagues?"

"Yes, a warrant is being finalised."

"Why-why do you need that?"

Martin hung his head and closed his eyes. "We want to ask about your relationship with Nate Mathews."

Alfie's blood clogged in his veins, and he hunched over with his hand braced on his stomach.

"Relationship? He's a prisoner, and I'm a prison officer."

Martin studied Alfie, tracking his eyes over his face to record his reaction. He scribbled something in his notebook. When Alfie leaned back and tried to see what it was, Martin quickly pressed it to his chest.

"Nate's accomplices pulled Mike from the car, then got Nate out. They cut his cuffs. Then he went back for you. I have statements from both Dave and Mike, who were conscious throughout. Nate was concerned for your welfare, and when he could've left and driven away, he didn't. He took you."

Alfie pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't know why he did that—"

"Your boss told us you were reluctant to accompany Nate on Sunday. Dave and Mike both said Nate wanted you to get out of the car and told you to leave several times. They said you were pale and distant before the crash."

Alfie's gut clenched, and he curled over farther. "I had been off sick all week. Of course I was reluctant, and Nate's always mouthing off like that."

"When asking your colleagues about yours and Mr Mathews's relationship, one of them told us he enjoyed your presence. And on Monday December 3rd, you were seen going into Nate Mathews's cell."

"By whom?"

"CCTV."

"The cameras are broken."

"Not the new ones that were installed that day during a lockdown. Your superior kept the broken ones up as distractions while the smaller cameras were fitted."

A hard lump formed in Alfie's throat. "It was an emergency. I had to go in there—"

"Without informing your fellow officers or writing the incident in the logbook?"

"I was ten minutes at most."

Martin scrunched his nose. "More like forty-five…"

"Nate was on suicide watch. I was checking on him. He was upset over—"

"His Nana Doris." Martin rolled his eyes. " Sure he was."

"What exactly are you accusing me of?"

Martin exhaled deeply through his nose. "We have reason to believe you aided Mr. Mathews's escape."

Alfie straightened fast and gawped at Martin. The air left him in a rush, and he winced at the flare of pain in his ribs. "You—You think I was involved? I smashed up my ribs and my pelvis."

"If you're not involved with his escape, then you've got nothing to worry about."

"What kind of things are you searching my house for?"

Martin's eyes hardened. "Anything that indicates you had an inappropriate relationship. Anything that suggests you were in contact with him outside of the prison."

Martin's lips continued to move, but Alfie couldn't hear the words that passed through. He shivered as something dark and sinister wrapped around his spine, and he lifted his eyes to the ceiling, where he imagined his bed was. The bedside table drawer was full of post-it notes and the picture Nate drew of him tied up. Instead of fear and arousal, there was only fear, but magnified to terror. He forced himself to swallow and grabbed a crutch off the coffee table.

"Just got to take a leak."

Martin stood. "Do you need some help with that?"

"No, I'm fine. Just going upstairs."

He didn't turn to Martin but hopped as calmly as he could to the stairs. He only needed one crutch and used the stair rail to steady himself. He realised halfway up that Martin was following and glanced over his shoulder. Martin's thin lips were pressed into a line, and his eyes were unblinking.

"You don't have to come up—"

"I think I do, Mr. Bridges."

"I'm just going to the toilet. I won't be long. You can put the kettle on if you want." Alfie took another step and heard the creak of the step behind.

"You seem a bit unsteady. I might just walk behind you, make sure you don't fall."

"I'm fine. I can do it. I got pretty fed up being accompanied to the toilet."

Martin snorted. "Still, I'm a police officer. It would be wrong of me to leave you if I thought you were in danger of slipping—"

"I won't."

"No harm in being careful," Martin said.

"There is, actually."

"Not that I can see."

Alfie pressed his lips together and breathed deep. He needed to get to the drawer, grab the post-its and the picture and flush them down the toilet. He couldn't run. Even hobbling at a swift pace made his bones ache.

"What is it you're hiding?"

"Nothing," he snapped.

There was a knock on the door, and Alfie closed his eyes in relief.

"Sounds like the cavalry," Martin said.

"You'd better go let them in."

"Yeah, I'd better."

Alfie opened his eyes and hopped up the final few steps. He dropped the crutch and crawled over the bed to get to the drawer. He tugged it open, but before he could grab what was inside, there was heavy pressure to his back, someone pinning him down.

He yelled out in pain as his ribs screamed in protest. He couldn't turn to see who pinned him, but another police officer strolled around the bed and peeked inside the drawer.

"I didn't believe them when they said Nate Mathews was a good artist. Interesting subject he chose…"

He snapped on a glove, reached inside and pulled the picture out for Alfie to see.

"Let me guess, you're going to tell me this isn't you and it wasn't drawn by Nate Mathews."

Alfie squeezed his eyes shut and didn't bother to deny it.