Chapter Fifteen – A Train to Catch

Jenny Merton had only driven a car as fast as she was now when she'd been forced too by the terminally ill man who had taken her hostage over a year ago. The Rover came to a screeching halt next to the General Hospital in Ashfordly and she jumped out of the vehicle, not caring about where she left it. She ran the small distance to the entrance and headed for the casualty section. Hundreds of dreadful and gloomy thoughts whirled in her mind as she half-walked, half-ran through the seemingly endless corridors, her heels clicking rapidly on the floor tiles.

"Jenny!" A familiar voice called out from behind her, causing her to come to an abrupt halt and turn around to see Steve Crane walk out from an adjoining corridor.

He made his way toward her and, as she stood there, seeing the serious look on his face, her hands began to shake.

"Steve," she finally managed as he came to stand opposite her. "Where is he? Is he all right?"

"He's been shot, caught in the arm," he explained. Seeing the terrified look on her face he hastily added; "Don't worry, Jenny. Sarge will be fine."

She chuckled nervously at the statement, feeling her legs turn into jelly.

Steve gently reached out to steady her. "Are you all right?" He asked softly, in a caring voice.

"Yes, I'm sorry," she apologized, feeling stupid all of a sudden.

"Come on, I'll take you to him. However, I don't think he'll get out of here today," Steve cautioned.

Jenny nodded and then turned to look at the young constable. "Are you all right?" She asked.

Steve nodded reassuringly. "I'm fine, there's no need to worry about me," he said confidently.

She crinkled her nose as a faint upward curl played on her lips. "Are you sure? Because that vivid bruise above your left eye looks painful," she said softly.

The constable returned the smile. "I have a hard head," he replied as he nodded toward a doctor clad in a white coat when they walked into the casualty section.

"Doctor Smith," PC Crane said, seeking the man's attention.

The doctor nodded and walked up to them.

"This is Jenny Merton, Sergeant Merton's wife," Steve introduced.

The doctor, in his mid-fifties, smiled politely at her. "I recognize you from somewhere," he said kindly.

"I work with Doctor Merrick in Aidensfield; I'm a pharmacist," she explained politely, wanting nothing else than to see her husband. "Where is Dennis?" She asked, feeling a bit anxious.

"Your husband is through here," he said and gestured toward a room further down the corridor. "He's to be transferred upstairs, on the ward."

"Is he all right?" Jenny asked worriedly.

"We had to remove the bullet from his arm surgically, he's lost a lot of blood and the shock is still affecting his body. That's why I want to keep him in for observation," the doctor explained seriously as they entered the room.

Jenny nodded as the doctor finished explaining and gently pulled the curtain, dividing the two beds in the room, aside to reveal the Scottish sergeant.

"Dennis," Jenny whispered as she took in his pale features and dull eyes. She quickly closed the distance to his bedside and sat down next to him.

A ghost of a smile danced on his lips as she carefully sat down on his bedside. "Hey," he whispered.

Steve and the doctor chose that moment to walk away, leaving them alone.

Jenny reached out to touch his forehead, her worry rising as she felt his clammy skin under the palm of her hand. "You're burning up," she said concerned.

Dennis couldn't help but to chuckle. "You're the worst mother hen I know," he said lightly, trying to diffuse the somber mood. However, his voice sounded weak even in his own ears.

"Are you trying to frighten me to death?" Jenny admonished.

"Sorry, I didn't really plan for this to happen," he answered neutrally, careful not to let his frustration and pain seep through in his voice.

"The doctor says you're going to be all right," the young pharmacist said, more to reassure herself than anyone else. "Thank heavens," she added.

"With a little luck I will be out of here tomorrow," Dennis said.

"I doubt that," Jenny said seriously as she gently took his hand into hers, mindful of the IV in his arm. "Dennis, please, please don't scare me like that again," she said seriously.

"I'll try," he whispered tiredly, his eyes involuntarily closing.

Jenny smiled as she looked down at him. He would not come home tomorrow, he wasn't up to that, but at least he was alive and resting safely in a hospital bed and that was enough for now.

OOOOOO

"Gina," Liz said in confusion as she stepped through the door to the Aidensfield Practice. She had expected it to be Jenny greeting her as the pharmacist had left the farm earlier to man the practice.

The barmaid looked up from the newspaper she was studying, where she stood behind the counter. "Hi, Liz," Gina replied. "I'm glad you came back. Jenny said she didn't know when you would return and, frankly, I didn't get much sense out of her."

Liz frowned, thankful the last of her daily patients had been taken care of earlier. "What do you mean?" She asked.

"Dennis has been shot," Gina replied bluntly.

"Shot?" The young doctor echoed as a million questions popped up in her brain.

Before Gina could explain further the door opened again, revealing a smiling Ben Norton. However, seeing the look on Liz' face he instantly sobered up.

Doctor Merrick whirled around, barely acknowledging him before turning back to her friend again. "What…" she began.

"He's going to be fine. Jenny is with him now. That's why I'm here," Gina explained. "However, since you're back, I'd much rather stand behind a more familiar counter."

"What's going on?" Ben asked.

"Sergeant Merton has been shot," Gina explained. "Caught in the arm apparently, according to Phil."

"People are scared as it is around here. Without anyone trying to kill the police," Liz said angrily.

"Do they know who it was?" Ben asked curiously. "Do they know how it happened?"

Gina shrugged, not able to answer.

"All right," Liz said. "I'll lock up here and head over to the hospital."

"I'll come with you," Ben said without hesitation.

"Thanks, Gina. You're a life savior," Liz said with a smile as she turned to the barmaid.

"Don't mention it. Perhaps if things go south and both Oscar and I find ourselves incapable of serving beer you might step in?" She said with a smirk.

"If that's the case I might help better by practicing in my own field," Liz returned cunningly.

"That's what I was afraid off," Gina let on. "Anyway, say hello to them for me."

"Wait a minute," Liz said as if suddenly remembering something. "Isn't Oscar at the railway station?"

"Yeah, thank heavens for Phil's grandmother," Gina let on cunningly. "I think she enjoys standing behind the counter."

OOOOOO

"Steve, are you sure you're okay?" Phil asked carefully as he studied his pale colleague.

The slightly younger officer waved his concern away. "Like I said to Jenny. I have a hard head," he replied with a faint smile. "The motorcycle is worse for wear though as it glided to a stop against a rather large boulder when I jumped off of it."

"Bernie will have that taken care of in a few hours," Phil assured him. "Might be just as well because you're in no shape to ride it anyway under the circumstances."

Steve frowned at him.

"Anyway, let's drive you home and tuck you in. I think you've had enough excitement for one day," Phil added kindly.

"You sound like I'm a little child…" he whined then caught himself as he remembered that children were still a delicate matter for his colleague.

"Fine then," Phil said, his voice colder yet not uncaring. "A lift to the station then? To try and sort out this mess?"

"To the station it is then but not to the police station," Steve said.

Bellamy shook his head. "You know, I think you hit that head of yours pretty hard this time," he said.

OOOOOO

Liz worriedly glanced around the waiting hall at the General Hospital unable to spot her blonde friend. She moved on with Ben on her tail toward the casualty section. Making inquiries with some of the doctors she cooperated with during her days at the hospital she was finally directed toward a ward in the West Wing.

There, on a bench in the empty hallway, sat Jenny Merton. She was leaning forward with her elbows on her thighs and her head had come to rest in her cupped hands, fingers spread wide over her face.

"Jenny," Liz said gently as she quickly closed the distance and sat down next to her.

The pharmacist straightened and let her hands drop down to her lap. "He's all right, Liz. At least he will be. It's just me, silly me," she chided herself.

Liz gently put a comforting arm around Jenny's shoulder. "I would say it's a natural reaction considering that your husband is admitted after being shot," she said quietly.

"Liz," Jenny said in a shaky voice as she looked at her friend. "I was so afraid."

The doctor took her into her arms, the pharmacist leaning into her. "I know, Jenny, I know," she whispered and then switched subject hoping to steer her friend away from the dark thoughts of losing her husband.

"Look, everything is well at the farm. I've just talked to my friend down in London and according to him Jack is really making an effort. He'll be back the day after tomorrow. Of course he'll have to go back a few times to London as a follow up but isn't it wonderful news?"

Jenny nodded, a soft sob escaping her lips. "That's great, Liz," she managed.

"Why don't I go and find Dennis' attending physician and have a word?" Liz suggested softly. "Then Ben and I will drive you home. You're exhausted and need some rest."

OOOOOO

Jonathan Forbes cursed under his breath as he neared the train station in the outskirt of the Aidensfield village. The platform seemed very lively for just a village station. Sometimes it amazed him that little sleepy villages with a few cottages scattered around the moors could have their own train station.

Forbes contemplated on heading back, to retrace his steps down to Strensford or go further ahead up to Ashfordly but then decided against it. The police knew of his presence in the area, the faster he got out of the North Riding District and Yorkshire the better. Then, since he knew fairly well how Nichols worked, Forbes guessed that he would be lingering in the shadows of the little station ahead already. After all, he did need to catch up with the man to relieve him of the moneybag.

According to his profile stashed on the CID HQ Jonathan Forbes had always been a cunning, rash and bold criminal. That's how he was and how he worked. Therefore he had the guts to park the yellow sedan that he was driving right outside the gate to the railway station in the specified parking lot for taxi service. He carefully strode out of the vehicle and whistled faintly on a melody of the Beatles, appearing carefree. Unbeknownst of the officer watching him.

"I don't believe that guy," Steve said as he narrowed his eyes, the headache making stars dance across his field of vision, and glanced through the magnifying lenses of the binoculars.

"Let me see," Phil urged curiously, barely giving Steve time to get the sling of the binoculars away from his neck.

"I'll give the police station a call," – he glanced at his wristwatch – "Should be right about time for tea."

"You're mean Steve. I'm sure Alf's been looking forward to that half the day," Phil replied with an upward curl to his lips.

OOOOOO

"How's it coming?" Joyce Jowett whispered behind the back of the last delegate as she walked up to Blaketon, having stepped aside to let Emile Nolan do the talking for a while.

Oscar looked thoughtful for a moment. "I think they're impressed with the order Master Stevenson has kept and the income of gods through here. Also, words from the grocery store and post office down in the village complimenting the railway is turning it in our favour," he said.

"What about the ticket sales and the traffic on and off the station?" Joyce asked.

"Statistically it's a little dark when it comes to those numbers," he admitted. "But, I think it was a good call to urge as many of the villagers here to take a train ride today."

"Perhaps we should thank the ornithologists too for gathering in the area due the annual meetings," she let on sarcastically as she spotted a skinny man dressed in tweed, littered with special equipment, hoping to spot a rare bird of some sort.

OOOOOO

To be continued

/Thank you for commenting on the last chapter ;) So sorry for the delay in updating but the site wouldn't let me log in.