Page 60 of One Left Alive
Thirty-Nine
The intensive care unit was still busy; there were no free beds. The officer had been removed from Bronte’s bedside, and Morgan could understand why. She was on a secure ward; access was only given by the nurses and visitors were restricted. She was in full view of the nurses’ station and it seemed a waste of resources to have an officer here full time. She approached the desk in the middle of the room. The nurses here were busy, all working on patients, and she waited until one was free to speak to her.
Kimberley, the nurse from the other day, waved at her, leaving Bronte to come and see her.
‘How is she?’
‘Holding her own; she was taken off the ventilator and is breathing unaided, which is great. There’s been some involuntary movements of her fingers and toes.’
‘Has her boyfriend been in today?’
She shook her head. ‘No, he hasn’t been here since the day before yesterday. I sent him home, told him he was no use to her if he was exhausted. I thought he’d have been back before now though.’
Morgan wondered how much information she was permitted to share with the woman, and then wondered how she could protect Bronte if she didn’t know what was happening. She would take the flak for it if needed, she decided. She leant forward and lowered her voice.
‘He tried to kill himself yesterday and was on Ward 12, but he’s discharged himself and I’m worried about him.’
The nurse’s hand lifted to her mouth. ‘Oh no, is it because I sent him home?’
Morgan shook her head. ‘No, I wouldn’t think so. Did you speak to him much?’
‘Not really, he wasn’t the talking type. He spent most of his time staring at his phone and taking selfies.’
‘What of? Him in here?’
‘Mostly, a few times I caught him crouched next to Bronte’s bed. I don’t want to sound mean, though, and I know that’s what all kids do now. They live their lives on their phones and forever take pictures, but it made me a bit uncomfortable of the ones he took with Bronte. I mean, the girl is in a bad way and there he is spending twenty minutes making sure his hair looked right before taking photos of them both. Another thing as well, he never looked sad on them; he always had this big grin with his white teeth showing.’
‘That’s odd, I’d feel uncomfortable too. Did you ever ask him why he was taking them?’
‘I did, once, he said they were so Bronte could see how poorly she was and how he’d always been there for her when she did wake up. He started crying and I felt mean, so I left him to it. I hope to God he wasn’t putting them on Snapchat or Instagram.’
Morgan was starting to get a really bad feeling about Harrison Wright. What if Ben was right and he was loving all the attention and drama? Maybe he wasn’t so innocent in all of this.
‘My sergeant wanted me to ask if Bronte had full blood work done when she was admitted.’
The nurse nodded. ‘All patients in a serious condition do.’
‘Would they have run toxicology tests?’
‘Given the circumstances I would have assumed so, let me check her notes.’
They walked into the room. It was much quieter in here without the ventilator. Morgan reached out, gently taking hold of the girl’s hand.
‘Hi, Bronte, it’s me, Morgan, from the police. Glad to see you’re fighting. Keep going, we’re all rooting for you.’ Tears welled in her eyes and she lifted her sleeve to brush them away. This was so hard; that poor girl didn’t deserve any of this.
The nurse smiled at her. ‘You’re pretty nice for a copper. I take it you haven’t been one very long.’
‘Why?’
‘Oh, just a guess. You’ll get used to it eventually, although not always. I’ve been working in here for nine years and most days I can go home and try to switch off, you have to, or it would send you insane. But occasionally someone will end up in here and they’re far too young and didn’t deserve it. Those days it can be difficult to leave it all behind. Yes, here we go. There were no traces of anything unusual.’
‘Oh, right. Thank you, I just need to check in with my boss.’
She left and went in search of the canteen. She needed something to eat and coffee. Ben didn’t answer so she left him a voicemail. Taking her latte and slice of Victoria sponge, she went and sat at the table she’d shared with Harrison. Pulling a notepad out of her bag, she began to scribble notes inside of everything she’d been told since she got here. It occurred to her she could go and speak to the pathologist while she was here. He may be able to help. As she left the dining room, she stopped a porter.
‘Please can you tell me how to get to the mortuary?’
He pointed to the far end of the corridor. ‘Down there, turn right, straight on then first left.’
