Free A Lovely Way to Burn by Louise Welsh

him?’
    Dr Ahumibe looked away from her, towards a small window high on the exterior wall and a glimpse of blue sky. Stevie followed his gaze and thought how like a prison cell the room was.
    ‘No. From what I heard, Simon died of something else.’ He ran a hand across his skull. ‘Simon and I had known each other a long time. We worked together here, and as part of the same small team in private practice. That’s why I was surprised he hadn’t mentioned you. Whatever it was he wanted you deliver to Mr Reah, he would have trusted me with it, now that Malcolm’s gone.’
    Stevie hesitated. Simon’s letter was insistent that she trust no one except Reah. But Reah was dead and Dr John Ahumibe had a tired, anxious air that made her want to confide in him. Behind her a door opened.
    ‘You’re needed on the ward.’ The nurse who had entered was dark and pretty, with black hair that looked as if it would break into a riot of curls, were it not besieged by a barricade of pins.
    Ahumibe gave her a small nod and got to his feet.
    ‘Two seconds.’ He looked at Stevie, his eyes mild and unreadable. ‘Why not open the package here and make up your mind once you’ve seen what’s in it?’
    Dr Ahumibe had the sort of voice designed to soothe frightened patients, or to gently break bad news, but the reasonableness of it recalled Simon’s letter. He had told her not to entrust the laptop to anyone else, no matter how polite, kind or authoritative . Stevie slung her satchel over her shoulder.
    ‘I’ll phone if it’s anything belonging to the hospital.’
    The nurse was still standing in the doorway, watching them as if they were part of some play. Her good looks and neat figure were marred by her sour expression.
    ‘Excuse me,’ Stevie said. ‘I need to go.’
    For a second Stevie thought the other woman was going to block her way, but she held the door open.
    ‘Miss Flint.’ Dr Ahumibe followed them out of the room. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to stay a little longer.’ He glanced at the nurse. ‘Miss Flint may have survived the virus.’
    The nurse looked at her. Stevie saw that her irises were almost pure black, her eyes shadowed with lack of sleep.
    ‘You had it?’
    Stevie shrugged. ‘I’m not sure.’
    The nurse started to say something, but the ward doors opened and a thin man wearing a creased white coat over an equally crumpled blue shirt and chinos strode towards them. The new arrival was almost as tall as Dr Ahumibe and as pale and blond as the other man was dark. Dr Ahumibe said, ‘Miss Flint’s had the virus and lived to tell the tale.’
    The man turned his Weimaraner eyes on her, his face keen and intelligent.
    ‘In that case you could be a rather useful young woman.’ He smiled. ‘I wonder if you would oblige us with a few samples. Don’t worry, they’ll be painless.’
    Stevie could see a couple of nurses at the nurses’ station looking at them, wondering what the huddle was about. She wanted to leave, but the thought of Joanie stalled her. The idea that the solution might lie in her blood was strangely nauseating, but if she could help, then she would.
    ‘I have to go to work later. I’m happy to give you whatever samples you need but I’m afraid I can’t hang around.’
    ‘In that case, Nurse Webb will take you down to the lab.’ The pale man looked at Dr Ahumibe. ‘Makes more sense for them to take whatever samples they need there.’ He nodded to the nurse and put an arm around his colleague’s shoulder, steering him away from the two women without waiting for an answer. ‘Do you have a moment? I’ve got to dash off and collect William in a minute.’
    Dr Ahumibe murmured, ‘Miss Flint was Simon’s girlfriend.’ The newcomer’s eyes glanced back at her, sharp and quick as a scalpel. Dr Ahumibe added, ‘She dropped in to deliver something from Simon to Malcolm but . . .’ He let the sentence trail away.
    ‘O-h.’ The newcomer dragged out the vowel,