The Police Doctor's Discovery. Laura MacDonald
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to make the two house calls she needed to do before she could go home.
Home for Rachel, as she had told Nick Kowalski, was a house in Cathedral Close, which she was renting for a year from friends of her parents who were travelling abroad. Tucked away in one corner of the close in the lee of the great cathedral, St Edmund’s was an elegant, stone-built Georgian-style house filled with antiques, and if the furnishings were a little too traditional for Rachel’s more modern tastes it was something she felt she could live with. Some of the more expensive pieces of glass and porcelain she had locked away in the glass-fronted cabinets in the dining room, terrified that she might break them, but after a while she had begun to relax and enjoy the undeniable comfort and luxury of the house. In many ways it was similar to Ashton House, her parents’ home, but it had been many years since she had lived there and she had since become used to a more modest way of life, first in student then hospital accommodation and more recently in the apartment she had shared with Jeremy.
As she thought of Jeremy she kicked off her shoes and sank down onto one of the two deep, comfortable sofas. When she had first met Jeremy, a fellow doctor in the practice where she had been working, and had brought him home to meet her parents, he had been hailed as a perfect match for her and the perfect son-in-law for them. The son of wealthy parents, educated at one of the country’s top public schools and with a career that looked set to take him to his own Harley Street practice, he must have seemed like the answer to Rachel’s parents’ prayers, but for Rachel things hadn’t quite worked out that way. She was fond of Jeremy, of course she was, but somehow their relationship had become static, with neither of them seemingly interested in marriage or starting a family, which, from Rachel’s point of view at least, was strange because she knew deep in her heart that she wanted both of those—to be married and to have children. But somehow she’d never been able to visualise either with Jeremy. They were friends, good friends, but that was all and their relationship seemed to lack the extra spark that Rachel felt sure should be there if any further commitment was to be made.
The spark had been there with Nick. The thought, unbidden, came into her mind. Why should she think of that now? Only because she had seen him again that day, she told herself fiercely. Her relationship—if you could even call it that—with Nick had been years ago. They had both been very young and they had both, without a doubt, changed in the intervening years. But that spark had been there. It had been there all those years ago, it had been there every time he had as much as looked at her and even more so whenever he had touched her. And her skin, without fail, had tingled in response, and it had been there again today.
She gave an angry little gesture as the realisation hit her. It was ridiculous that she should even think such a thing. It had simply been the shock of seeing him again after all that time that had done it—nothing more at all. Nick Kowalski was bad news. He’d been bad news then with his high-speed motorbike and his wild ways and he was probably bad news now. It was surprising that he’d done so well in the police force—he was young to be a DCI but, no doubt, he had ridden roughshod over anyone who had got in his way on his passage through the ranks. Somehow she couldn’t quite think of him as an utterly reformed character. No doubt his wife had suffered—by his own admission his marriage had ended in divorce—and there was a child, a little girl. She couldn’t imagine Nick as a father but his face had softened when he’d mentioned his daughter.
But what in the world was she thinking about Nick for anyway? Hadn’t he hurt her before—dumped her unceremoniously without so much as a word of explanation, leaving her desolate? The last thing she wanted now was to have too many dealings with him. That she might have to spend time with him occasionally in her work with the police was quite enough, although with a bit of luck even that shouldn’t be too often. Rachel knew from experience that most of her work would be not with plainclothes CID officers but with the uniformed station staff and, provided that Westhampstead was still the quiet country town it had always been, she saw little reason that should change.
With that slightly reassuring thought uppermost in her mind, she stood up and made her way into the kitchen where she began preparing pasta and salad for her supper.
She had barely finished eating when her phone rang and, desperately trying to swallow the last mouthful, she answered it, expecting it to be her father or perhaps Jeremy, although she and Jeremy had agreed to have as little contact as possible during this trial separation period.
‘Hello?’ she said. There was a silence on the other end then the caller hung up. With a little grimace Rachel replaced the receiver, only for the phone to ring again immediately.
‘Hello?’ she said, ‘Who is this?’
‘Rachel?’
Her heart jumped. ‘Yes...?’
‘It’s Nick. Nick Kowalski.’
‘Oh,’ she said, ‘hello.’ She’d known it was him as soon as he’d spoken her name—had recognised his voice.
‘You’re eating,’ he said abruptly. ‘Sorry.’
‘No, it’s all right,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I’ve just finished.’
‘I understand you are duty doctor for the station tonight.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That’s right.’
‘I need a doctor to examine a man who has been brought in for questioning.’
‘What’s the problem?’ She hoped she sounded professional and efficient even though for some extraordinary reason her pulse was racing.
‘He seems disorientated and his movements are uncoordinated.’
‘Has he been drinking?’
‘Not as far as we know.’
‘I’ll come down now.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Oh, Nick?’ There was a slight pause.
‘Yes?’
‘Did you phone just now—a moment ago?’
‘No. Why?’
‘Oh, it doesn’t matter—it must have been a wrong number. I’ll be with you shortly.’
She hung up and stared at the phone for a moment. Why in the world had she reacted in such a silly way to the sound of Nick’s voice? Had it been because she hadn’t imagined that he would phone her? But that was stupid—given the fact that she was area police doctor, it was quite on the cards that he might phone her. Usually she would expect it to be the duty sergeant who would do so but it certainly wasn’t outside the realms of possibility for a DCI. Hastily she took her dishes to the kitchen then ran upstairs, changed her skirt for a pair of trousers and pulled on a warm sweater before picking up her case and leaving the house. In spite of her earlier conclusions that Nick was bad news and should be avoided at all costs, she found that as she drove to police headquarters her pulse was still racing and she felt a level of excitement at the thought of working with him that she hadn’t felt for a very long time.
CHAPTER TWO
IT WAS quite dark by the time she reached police headquarters, another indication that autumn was almost upon them. Locking her car, Rachel climbed the steps at the front of the building and on opening the main doors found Nick waiting for her in Reception. He looked tense, wound up like a tightly coiled spring, and for one moment she was tempted to apologise in case she’d kept him waiting. Then she thought better of it. This man was not her boss or her superior, she was not answerable to him and it would be as well for her to remember that fact in all her dealings with him.
‘Rachel.’ He turned on his heel.
‘You have a patient for me?’ She nodded at the sergeant on the desk, not Harry Mason this time but a younger man who likewise acknowledged her with a nod. ‘Yes,’ Nick replied curtly, ‘come this way.’ She followed him out of the reception area down two corridors to the cells at the rear of the building. The place smelt of pine disinfectant. A radio somewhere played rap music