The Devil’s Dice: The most gripping crime thriller of 2018 – with an absolutely breath-taking twist. Roz Watkins
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to be able to run. I hauled myself up and stood shakily with my legs apart trying to get my brain to work. A wave of dizziness came over me like a blanket of mist, and I sat back down on the bottom step.
‘Fuck,’ I said. ‘Fucking hell.’
I knew I should probably call the Station, but what would I say? Someone came up behind me and I fell down the steps, like an idiot? I didn’t even see their face. I’d never hear the end of it from Craig. My new name would be Eddie the Eagle. And besides, I needed to be sick. I had to get back to Mum’s.
I took a first tentative step. Everything seemed to be in working order, albeit painful, so I carried on and started climbing back up towards Mum’s house. One foot after another. My head throbbed and something wasn’t right in my hip either. About ten steps up, I paused for breath and glanced back down towards the road.
I gasped and collapsed onto the step. It was the flashback again, smashing itself into my consciousness like an attack from a vicious animal. First the feet, dangling. Dangling like feet weren’t supposed to dangle, level with my face. Everything wrong – the feet, the ladder, incongruous in the middle of her bedroom. My brain unable to make sense of it. Staring at the feet for an endless moment, a low cry already building in my throat, terrified to look anywhere but the feet. Then the point my gaze flipped up. Carrie’s head slumped forward. The shape of her skull through wisps of hair. Me screaming, climbing the ladder, scrabbling, pulling, sobbing. Then falling. Finally, always the falling.
Hannah sniffed the air. ‘Ugh! Hospitals. You could have chosen somewhere more interesting for a mini-break. I spend half my life here.’ She wheeled herself up to my bed.
My head was mushy. ‘At least it’s wheelchair-friendly. Anyway, I’m not staying. I hate hospitals.’ They smelt of guilt and dejection. I forced those feelings away and attempted a smile. ‘Nice of you to visit me, Hannah.’
‘I was worried about you.’ She frowned at me. ‘I did have someone else to visit too.’
‘Good to know I’m such a priority in your life. Who were you visiting?’
‘It doesn’t matter. When are they discharging you?’
‘I don’t care what they do, I’m leaving today. I’ve missed a day of work already. I can’t believe I’ve been here last night and most of today. What a waste of time.’
‘What the hell have you been up to anyway?’ As if I’d done it deliberately.
‘I fell down some steps, and bashed my head.’ I swivelled to show the bump.
‘Jesus. How come?’
‘Someone ran up behind me.’ I hadn’t meant to say that.
‘Oh my God. Maybe it was a rapist or something. What did he look like?’
‘I didn’t see. Honestly, it was most likely just some idiot in a hurry. It gave me a fright, that’s all. And I fell down the steps.’
‘Why didn’t they help you then? If it was a normal person?’
She had a point. Something wasn’t right about the whole incident. But the thought of reporting it as suspicious filled me with exhaustion. I had no information. I’d seem pathetic. The last thing I needed now, with Craig hot on my tail, was to appear vulnerable. ‘I’m not saying anything to Work or to Mum about the person coming up behind me. It’ll only worry them. Don’t mention it, Hannah, I mean it.’
‘But it’s kind of scary. What if they’re after you?’
‘Stop it. Seriously.’ I remembered the flashback. It hovered in the back of my mind like a caged animal, scratching to be let out. I couldn’t let it out. I couldn’t go back to how I’d been in Manchester. I was over all that. ‘Anyway, who were you visiting?’
‘Oh, I met someone through that group. She campaigns for stuff for disabled people. She’s had pneumonia and I came to visit her. That’s all.’
‘Oh. You never mentioned her before.’
‘Why do you always have to be so negative?’
‘For Christ’s sake, Hannah, I wasn’t being negative.’
‘Your face says it all. Besides, I know your views. What was it you said about that group? The devout manipulating the disabled?’
That did sound like me. I kept my voice even. ‘Look, I don’t want to argue. Let’s not talk about it. It’s not worth falling out over.’
‘Okay. I know you don’t like that group. But they’re only trying to stand up for vulnerable people and unborn babies who have no voice.’ Hannah swallowed. ‘Nowadays most people would abort a baby like me with Spina Bifida.’
God, I didn’t have the energy today. I shifted on my pillows. ‘I’m not sure that’s true, or a good way of looking at it. You’re—’
‘They showed us pictures of babies at the age they can still kill them.’
‘They’re bloody manipulating you, Hannah, can’t you see it? Did they show photos of babies screaming after their twentieth operation too?’
Hannah shifted her chair back an inch.
I reached for her hand. ‘I’m sorry. I just wish they wouldn’t show that stuff.’
‘They’re trying to make things better.’
I pulled my hand away. I couldn’t understand why Hannah had been sucked in by them, but I didn’t want to repeat the argument.
‘Just forget it,’ Hannah said. ‘You’re right. I did have lots of operations on my spine but I can’t remember. My baby photos would have been more at home in The Lancet than in a family album.’
‘Oh Hannah, I didn’t mean you. Of course I don’t think you should have been aborted.’ I looked over at Hannah, so lovely and full of life. I’d never admitted to her that being paralysed was one of my worst fears; that it woke me sweating in the night, tangled in sheets and gasping for breath; that I probably would abort a baby like her if I ever had to make that terrible choice.
Hannah looked up and I followed her eyes. Jai, striding towards us.
His voice sounded like he was being lightly strangled. ‘Meg, what happened? They say you bashed your head.’
‘I’m okay. It’s no big deal.’
‘I was leaving anyway,’ Hannah kissed me, somewhat frostily, and did a kind of wheelchair handbrake-turn before gliding away.
Jai sat on the chair by my bedside. ‘Seriously, are you alright?’
‘I’m fine. How’s it going with the Hamilton case?’
‘Oh, there’s a suicide note. Richard’s wrapping it up. You don’t need to be involved.’
I sat up, with some difficulty. My brain chugged. I’d forgotten. Just before I fell. The call from Kate Webster. ‘An email,’ I said hesitantly.
‘Yes, an email. All fairly clear cut.’
No, it wasn’t. I was sure it wasn’t clear cut. ‘What did the email say?’
‘It was the usual stuff. Sorry, sorry, you’re better off without me and all that.’
‘How do we know someone hadn’t hacked his account? It just doesn’t have the feel of a suicide to me.’
‘He’d been behaving strangely, acting depressed, saying he was cursed. Richard’s happy with suicide.’
‘Come on, Jai.’ I could feel my brain clarifying. ‘One, have you ever tried to get cyanide? You can’t pick it up from Asda. Two, cyanide’s not a nice way to die—’