Chapter Nine

But I went back. Each visit was less awkward and more like before. Gently always looked like he wanted to make amends each time, but I shrugged it off. There were more important things to worry about.

Like why Gently kept suddenly shutting down. It didn't happen all the time, in fact, there seemed to be certain prompts, but I had only worked out two or three of them. Certainly one of them was the smell of straw. Gently refused to talk about it though, instead focusing on making sure that he was caught up with the cases happening at work. It was constant: almost as soon as I was through the door, he had the table cleared and stocked with notebooks and prints. We worked for an hour or so, probably downing more tea than was strictly healthy, passing back notes and theories. Nonetheless, it was keeping Guv busy and kept our minds off the comatose Raleigh.

I knew that Guv was working late into the night when I left and I didn't like it. He looked less ghoulish now than the initial days at the hospital, but there was a definite ragged, bone-weariness at his edges. At least when I was with him I could remind him to take breaks, citing my own tiredness as an excuse.

A week into this, I was just getting my coat when Gently's telephone rang. "Can you get that for me, John?" he called from the kitchen.

"Sure!" I called back, already reaching for the telephone. "Hello?"

"John, is that you?"

"Rachel, yeah. I'm just visiting Gently. What's up?"

There was a long silence on the other end, but finally, Rachel said, "It's Raleigh."

My knuckles whitened and I asked, "What about 'im?"

Let him be dead. Let the bastard be dead.

"He's woken up, but he says he doesn't remember kidnapping the inspector. In fact," static buzzed her words, "He says he doesn't remember anything at all."

"He must be lying," I snapped suddenly. "This is all some fucking scheme."

"John… we can't know that for sure. I – I did whack him quite hard and he's just woken up from a coma. He could be telling the truth," Rachel sounded tired. She sighed down the phone and added, "Just make sure that Mr Gently's OK. And remind him that if he wants to prosecute, he's going to have to make a statement."

"OK, OK," I said, "Thanks, Rachel. Thanks. Yeah, I'll tell him. It's fine. OK." I had to stop myself from slamming the phone into the cradle, my fingers tightening around the body so quickly I heard the plastic creak.

"Hey, John?" Gently stepped out from his kitchen, drying his hands on his trousers. His smile faded when he saw my face. "John, what's wrong?"

I bit my lip, forced myself to relax and said, "Raleigh's woken up. He's gonna live, but he says he doesn't remember grabbing you."

"Oh." He nodded slowly, "Right." Gently gestured to the remnants of his bruises, "I think it did happen, don't you?" His laughter was forced and flat.

"It's not funny, guv!" I snapped.

He held up his hands, "John…"

I barely registered that he'd spoken. "You need to make a statement, guv. We need to nail Raleigh for this. We can't let him get away with what he did!" My hands were trembling as the memory of Gently – frozen, bloody, and blind – rose sickeningly in my mind. "There's no way that him 'having' amnesia has any traction in court."

Gently was chewing his lip.

"Would it?"

"Depends…" he said slowly, "Depends on the severity of the amnesia and whether… he's found competent to stand trial." Gently rubbed a hand through his hair.

"We have to fucking get him," I repeated, "You have to make a statement tomorrow morning."

Gently gave me a wan smile. "I don't think that's necessary, John. We can always get him for the thefts and battery…"

"And he'll go down for, what, five years? Seven at most? He kidnapped you. Drugged you, chained you up in a barn and beat the shit out of you. If we get him for that, Raleigh goes away for life." My hands were shaking. I realised that I was shouting, but I didn't care. "I want him to pay," I snarled, "I want him to pay for what he did."

"John."

"We can't let him get away with it!"

"John."

"He's fucking trying to wriggle out of it!"

"John!"

I blinked, coming back to my senses. "Yeah?"

He looked weary and drawn. "I… I'll make a statement. Tomorrow." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he clearly regretted them.

"Right," I tried to keep my tone brisk. Make it normal. Make it safe. "I'll come 'round tomorrow, half-eight alright?"

Gently nodded. He gestured vaguely upstairs. "I'm tired. You must be too. You should go home."

"OK." I picked up my coat. "Half-eight. Don't forget."

"I won't." He shepherded me to the door. I stepped out into the cold night air. As Gently made to shut the door, I stopped him. "It'll be fine," I said.

He smiled again. "Yeah. See you tomorrow."

The click of a lock was both disheartening and like music. At least Gently was taking his personal safety seriously, I thought, but I couldn't say why this also pained me.

I ignored my uneasiness all the way home.

It was hard to keep my mind on the reports. I sat at Gently's desk – feeling vaguely like I was playing dress-up. The sensation wasn't helped by the strange sense of betrayal nagging at my mind.

I had been all ready to take Gently's statement myself, but at the last moment, he'd turned to Rachel instead. "Sorry, John," he'd mouthed and had looked vaguely ashamed.

A swell of frustration surged through my stomach and I pushed the reports away. Was I feeling jealous? That Rachel was hearing Gently's statement and not me?

I was being ridiculous. It was whatever would make guv more comfortable.

But still, why not me? I was the one who found him. I was the one who stayed at the police station all hours and poured over the clues and then I was the one who'd found him chained to that stinking pipe…

I mentally shook myself. It's not about you, John, I thought. It's not about you.

"Hey, John."

I looked up to see Gently hovering at the edge of the desk, his coat draped over his shoulder and an awkward smile on his face. I gave him a wan smile back. "You OK?" I asked.

He gave me a look of wide-eyed sincerity. "Of course," he said. "All done. And you're in my seat."

I raised my eyebrow at the attempt at humour. "Rachel's desk is being used by Taylor. She's using mine. I'm using yours. You can get it back when you come back to work."

Gently nodded and replied, "Next week, then?"

"Next week?" I looked up at him. "But…" I didn't want to say you still look like shit. But it was true. Gently obviously wasn't getting enough sleep.

Gently's expression hardened a little. "John, I'm fine." He reached up to rub his head, "I'm alright to come back. Besides, someone needs to keep an eye on you."

"Thanks." I couldn't help the coldness of my voice as I stood up. "How about I drive you home?"

Gently shook his head and said, "I might stay for a while. You're working. I don't want to disturb you."

"No, no. It's fine. I'm due a break, actually."

Gently didn't say much on the drive back to his house and I didn't try to push it.

The nurse was reluctant to let me see Raleigh, but the threat of a perverting the course of justice charge was the final nail in the coffin for her protests. Slightly sullenly, she led me to Raleigh's room with a police officer standing guard. He nodded when he saw my ID. The nurse stopped me outside and said, "I don't want you to upset him, Inspector. He's only been awake for a day and he's already been questioned quite thoroughly by the police."

I couldn't help myself. "Oh, I'll try not to upset him. I'll be respectful – the way he was respectful to my guvnor." At her confused face, I continued, "Do you know what his crime was? He kidnapped my guvnor and kept him tied up in a barn. No food. No water. When I found him he was covered in blood, concussed, and hypothermic."

"I… I didn't know that." The nurse shook her head and added, "But he's got amnesia, Inspector –"

"Doesn't change what he did. Let me see him. I want to know whether he's lying." I pushed my way past her.

She grabbed my arm as I opened the door and pulled me back. The door shut behind us. "Are you really the best person to question him?"

I glared at her. She was probably right, but I wasn't about to admit that. "Let me go in. I won't be long."

I shook her off and pushed open the door.

The little hospital room was very clean and bare. There was nothing that Raleigh could possibly use as a weapon. None of us wanted to take any chances seeing the damage done to Gently. I approached the bed where Raleigh was lying, eyes closed. I was starting to shake, so I clenched my fists tight against my legs. "Raleigh."

The man in the bed shifted slightly. He opened his eyes and looked at me, blinking. He smiled at me. "Oh, hello. Are you a police officer?"

"Cut it out," I growled, "Raleigh, I know you're faking this."

The frown was artistic. "I don't understand, officer," Raleigh said. "Have me met before?"

I pulled over one of the chairs and sat down. "Don't give me that shit. You know me. I'm the one you were calling when you were setting out the ransom demands for one Detective Chief Inspector George Gently. The same George Gently that you kidnapped in order to escape from police pursuit. I'm the one who found your little hidey-hole and the one you were about to shoot before –" a flare of caution flashed through my mind and I stumbled over the amendment, "Before you were hit by one of our policemen." I didn't know if Raleigh knew it was Rachel who had hit him or that she, as well as Gently and I, was a witness. I wasn't about to let someone like Raleigh know the identity of his attacker.

Raleigh was still smiling confusedly at me. His blinking was getting more rapid. "I'm afraid I can't recall any of that, Inspector. I'm sorry… I'm very sleepy." His gaze flitted over my shoulder and I turned to see the nurse in the doorway. "I'm sorry. I do need to…" he yawned and closed his eyes.

"Oi! Oi!" I reached over to poke his arm. Raleigh didn't move.

"Don't do that!" The nurse bustled over and practically shoved me out of the way. "Right. Out."

"But –"

"Out! I don't care if you're a police officer, but this man is my patient and I need to care for him. Out!"

As I was hustled out of the room, I caught a glimpse of Raleigh's hand, fingers curled loosely, rested on the bedsheets. The hands were big, hard, the knuckles covered in old scars.

And I couldn't help imagining those same hands clenched into fists and swinging – pummelling a helpless victim, a victim unable to even see his tormentor. I tried to imagine Raleigh's face in those moments – had he been angry? Or had he been cold and calculating, enjoying every second of his power over another human being?

I shuddered again. He's not getting away with this, Guv, I vowed, I won't let him.