Free Wilderness (Arbogast trilogy) by Campbell Hart Page B

for.
     

 
    9
     
     
     
     
    February 17 th 2010
    Mary Clark looked frightened. Although she was past the worst she still felt dazed and her audience was having trouble making out what exactly she was trying to say through slurred words and vague gestures. She was like a drunk at the end of a long night of celebration and this wasn’t going to make for an easy Q and A session. Arbogast and DS Reid had pulled up chairs and were sitting staring at the patient while her husband, John Clark, sat at the other side of the room.
    “What were you sorry about?” Arbogast said.
    “Sorry?”
    “When you woke up you told your husband you were sorry – what about?”
    “It’s personal,” Mary wouldn’t look Arbogast in the face and was focusing all her attention on the hospital ID tag strapped around her wrist.
    “Mrs Clark, we will have plenty of time to talk in-depth about what exactly happened but right now we have a child missing with a known sex offender. We know you were travelling with the child. A number of people on the bus have come forward to say you were travelling with a young girl. The driver of the bus was Stevie Davidson who I know you know. I’ve spoken to your father.”
    Mary’s eyes opened with a look of pure disgust, “My father...what have you been speaking to that bastard for? Be in no doubt Detective that he does not speak for me.”
    In the background the husband, John Clark, tried to intervene, “I really don’t think this is—”
    “Oh it is very necessary Mr Clark,” Arbogast said, “and I would ask you to keep quiet or I will have you removed.”
    John Clark looked at his wife and then the DI. He realised this was a battle he would not win and sat back down.
    “Who was the girl Mrs Clark and why is she with Stevie Davidson?”
    Mary sat silently while she worked out what she was going to say. She looked close to tears.
    “You have no daughter,” Arbogast said, “so who is she?”
    “I can’t say,” Mary’s voice was a whisper, “I just can’t say.”
    Arbogast was getting angry, “You can’t say – really? A little girl is out there Mrs Clark. Where you were found was under ten feet of snow. Now it’s quite possible the girl and the driver may already be dead. Someone took the time to undress you and left you for dead and I have to make the giant leap that someone had good reason for doing so. Does it please you that the girl might be dead or being abused? She could be in the hands of paedophiles,” Arbogast knew this was a risk but hoped the threat of abuse might spark some kind of reaction, “she could be getting molested right now, this very second. We need to find her Mary and you need to help.”
    It was at this point that Doctor Fitzpatrick intervened, “Please DI Arbogast this really won’t do. I need to speak to you for a moment – outside please.”
    Arbogast glared at the Doctor with unconcealed contempt, “That would be most inconvenient Doctor,” he spat out the two syllables of Doc-tor with a venom which surprised DS Reid and the Clarks.
    “Nevertheless if you would join me for a chat I think that might be best.” Outside Doctor Fitzpatrick was unimpressed. Her stance was belligerent with arms folded right foot forward and shoulders squared in a gesture of defiance, “Just what do you think you’re doing in there? That woman is lucky to be alive. We still don’t know what happened to her but she was, as you say, left for dead in a bus and has still obviously not recovered. You need to go easy on her – she’s still in shock. Keep on at her like that and she might breakdown altogether. Do you understand?”
    Arbogast realised he had been holding his breath and exhaled through his nose and nodded.
    “And if you had bothered to ask,” the Doctor added, by way of compromise, “the bruising she has is historic. I’d say they were a few days old. Certainly she didn’t pick them up on the bus,” Her voice softened, “I appreciate the situation