Chapter Twenty-Five #2
Judith lifted the magnet and took the sheet of paper. She read it carefully.
I’m boring and drab and I can’t seem to hold a conversation. I don’t blame her for dumping me.
Judith swore quietly under the breath. She had no evidence bag. She’d already handled the letter, as had god knew how many others. She held the page carefully between finger and thumb, and returned to the kitchen.
‘Elsa, where did this—’ She never got to finish the sentence. Instead she watched as Elsa’s eyes rolled in her head, watched as Elsa fell backwards off the bar stool like she’d just been shot.
‘Shit!’ Judith dropped the paper and ran to her.
Elsa was on the ground, and she was convulsing.
Her arms were drawn in towards her chest, and both hands were rigid.
Her jaw was locked, and her back arched and released, arched and released.
Judith pulled her phone from her back pocket.
She called for an ambulance and gave the address of the house, then did her best to support Elsa’s head.
The convulsions went on and on. There was bloody foam at the corner of her mouth.
Judith heard the front door open. The ambulance couldn’t be there already, could it?
‘Elsa? I’m home,’ a male voice called out.
A man wearing scrubs entered the kitchen. He was tall and handsome. He saw Elsa on the floor and froze for a moment, his face a mask of horror. Then he ran to her and dropped to the ground at her side.
‘What happened?’ His fingers went to Elsa’s neck, his head to her chest.
‘She just fell. She was sitting on the bar stool, and she went into a convulsion, and she just fell backwards.’
‘She hit her head?’ He was afraid, Judith could see that clearly, but he was trying hard to stay in control.
‘Yes. I think so. But she was convulsing before she fell. Is she epileptic?’
‘No. Christ no.’ There was a cardigan hanging on the back of one of the bar stools. He grabbed it and folded it and tucked it under Elsa’s head. The convulsion seemed to be slowing. He turned her gently onto her side, putting her in the recovery position. ‘How long has she been convulsing?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Judith said. ‘A minute, maybe two. I’ve called an ambulance. They’ll be here any minute. You’re her husband?’
‘Yes. Nathan. Who the hell are you?’
‘Judith. Detective Judith Lee.’
‘I don’t understand how this happened.’
The ambulance seemed to take forever. The convulsions finally stopped but Elsa didn’t regain consciousness. The paramedics finally arrived, apologising for the delay.
‘We’re backed up. There’s ramping at the hospital.’
Nathan ignored the explanation and barked a report at them, that Elsa had no history of seizures, that the convulsions had lasted up to two minutes, that he’d observed full body stiffening.
There were two paramedics; an older woman and a younger man.
They moved quickly, assessing Elsa, attaching monitors to her right index finger and to her chest.
‘I’m Olivia, this is Brian,’ said the female paramedic. ‘The patient’s name is?’
‘Elsa,’ said Nathan. ‘Elsa Anderson.’
‘Elsa? Can you hear me?’ Olivia said. She raised Elsa’s eyelids and shone a light into her eyes.
Elsa didn’t respond. She was breathing—Judith could see her chest rise and fall—but otherwise she seemed deeply unconscious.
There was a bloody residue at the edges of her mouth.
‘What was she doing before the convulsions?’ asked Olivia.
‘Was there any warning? Did she have any odd feeling, déjà vu, unusual smell or taste, severe headache or light-headedness?’
Nathan looked at Judith.
‘She was feeling nauseous, I think. She said she hadn’t been feeling well all day.’
‘Any recent head injury or fall? Any alcohol or drug use today?’
‘No fall or head injury until just now. No drug use, ever.’ Nathan glanced around the kitchen. ‘Elsa drinks, but not to excess. She might have had a glass of wine. I don’t know.’
Brian moved the gurney closer.
‘We’re going to lift her now, okay?’ he said to Nathan. ‘You can help us. We’re going to roll her onto the brace, then lift her. You just support her head, just as you are.’
Nathan nodded. His eyes were on Elsa’s face. ‘I’m a surgeon.’
‘That’s great,’ Olivia said, reassuringly. ‘We’re going to lift her now, okay? One, two, three . . .’ They got her onto the gurney and started to roll her towards the door. Nathan moved with them, his hand on Elsa’s shoulder. He gave Judith a frantic look. ‘My kids . . .’
‘Your au pair’s here,’ Judith said. ‘Go. I’ll make sure they’re okay.’
And so they left. The ambulance disappeared in a haze of flashing lights and the blaring of sirens.
Judith was still kneeling on the floor. There were a few packets thrown on the floor from needles and monitoring patches discarded by the paramedics.
Judith picked them up slowly. She found the bin and threw them out.
She found a plastic bag and bagged the telltale letter, then put it in her pocket.
Slowly, she climbed the stairs. The first floor was in semi darkness.
The overhead lights were off, but there was a little very gentle mood lighting coming from LED strips tucked into shadow lines.
The children couldn’t possibly have slept through all of that commotion, the arrival of the ambulance, its departure under siren.
‘Hello?’ Judith said quietly. She walked the wide corridor and tried to remember the au pair’s name.
On the first floor Judith found a primary suite with a vast bathroom and walk-in robe, a second guest room and a library, but no kids, and no au pair.
She climbed the stairs to the second floor.
The corridor was dark but she found a kid’s bedroom—striped pink wallpaper on the walls, a single bed covered in plushies—with its lights on and its door wide open.
The room was empty. Judith heard sounds coming from the end of the hall.
Voices. A child crying. Judith hurried to the door and pushed it open to reveal another bedroom, this one again in semi darkness.
Judith saw a little girl, maybe eight or nine, standing to the side hugging a rabbit plushie to her body.
An older boy, presumably Cameron Miller, stood with his arm around her.
And there was a young blonde woman wearing pyjama shorts and a T-shirt, on her knees, holding a much younger child.
No one noticed Judith’s arrival, partly because they had their backs to the door, and partly because the little girl in the young woman’s arms was vomiting.
‘It’s okay, it’s okay, pauvre petite,’ the young woman said. She sounded panicked. There was vomit all over the floor, vomit on the child’s pyjamas.
Judith flicked on the main light switch and light flooded the room. Everyone except for the au pair and the vomiting little girl turned to stare at her. Judith kept her attention on the child.
‘How long has she been like this?’ she asked. The vomit was blood-streaked.
‘I don’t know,’ the blonde girl said, in a heavy French accent. Her head was bent over the little girl, supporting her. ‘I was in my room. I just found her.’
The little girl retched again and cried weakly.
Judith thought about calling another ambulance, but they’d taken so long to come for Elsa. She pulled a blanket off the bed, wrapped it around the little girl, and took her from the au pair. The little girl cried harder, reaching back, but Judith held her tight and made for the door.
‘Wait!’ the au pair called after her. ‘Who are you? Where are you going?’
‘I’m police. I’m taking her to the hospital.’ Judith started down the stairs. The au pair followed. ‘Has she eaten anything unusual today?’
‘No . . . je ne sais pas . . . I don’t think so.’
The little girl was still crying weakly, but she’d stopped vomiting.
Judith had reached the hallway. There was a set of keys in a glass dish on the hall table.
Nathan’s keys. She grabbed them and made for the door.
She would have liked to bring the au pair with her, to have the girl sit with the child in the back seat, but someone had to stay with the other two.
‘Don’t touch anything in the kitchen, and don’t eat anything,’ Judith said. ‘The police will be here soon.’
She didn’t look back. Nathan’s car was parked in the driveway. It was a Mercedes SUV. She didn’t recognise the model. There was a child seat in the rear. Judith opened the back door and strapped the little girl in.
‘You’re going to be okay,’ she said. ‘I’m going to take you to the doctor, and soon you’re going to feel much, much better.’
Judith ran for the driver’s seat, turned on the engine and reversed out of the driveway. She drove at pace to the hospital, hoping what she’d told the child was true.