chat about an investigation he’s helping me with.’
The receptionist raised an eyebrow and Morgan smiled. She knew it sounded crazy, but what was she supposed to say?
‘Harrison Wright, yeah?’
She nodded.
‘Second floor, Ward 12, you’d better clear it with the ward manager before you go walking straight in there.’
‘Thank you, I will.’
Morgan walked along the long corridor to the bank of lifts, knowing she should really take the stairs but couldn’t be bothered. She felt drained. It seemed like hours ago since she’d had her breakfast; her stomach was grumbling. She might see if Harrison wanted to go to the canteen again; the cake was pretty good for a hospital. More corridors that stretched on forever and she finally found the one which said ‘Ward 12’. There was a cluster of nurses all wearing different coloured uniforms standing around for handover. A man typing on a computer smiled at her.
‘Can I help you?’
‘Yes, I’m Police Officer Morgan Brookes. I wanted to check in on Harrison Wright. See how he is.’
He didn’t bother asking for ID. He smiled at her. ‘Bay eight, right at the bottom of this corridor.’
‘Thank you.’
She walked towards the bay. Inside there were ten beds but only one was occupied by an elderly man. She looked around and saw the bed near to where she was standing had crumpled sheets, and on the whiteboard above it said ‘Harrison Wright’. Morgan took a seat in the chair; he must have gone to the bathroom.
The old man looked at her.
‘Can you take me home, miss?’
‘I can’t, sorry.’
He nodded. ‘No one can, this place is keeping me against my will. He had the right idea.’
‘Who did?’
‘Young chap in that bed. He got up and walked out.’
Morgan stood up. ‘Do you know how long ago that was?’
He shrugged. ‘A couple of days ago.’
‘Thank you.’
She hurried back to the desk.
‘He’s not there; the man by the window said he’d left.’
The nurse who’d been looking after him turned around. ‘He was there last time I looked. Don’t take too much notice of Frank; he gets a bit confused. I’ll check the bathrooms.’
Two of them hurried off to check the bathrooms, while Morgan dashed back to see if his clothes were still in the locker next to the bed. It was empty.
She pulled out her phone and dialled Ben’s number.
‘He’s gone.’
‘Who, the kid? Where’s he gone?’
‘It looks as if he’s walked out. His clothes are missing.’
‘Shit. I’ll get someone to go and do an address check. Please can you go and talk to Bronte’s doctor? I’ll ask Lancs if they can send officers to check the bus and train stations. He’ll be on foot; he can’t have got too far.’
The line went dead.
Morgan turned to the nurses. ‘We’ll put a missing person’s report on the system. Can someone phone up 101 and give them the details, please?’
Then she left them to it, making her way to the intensive care unit.
Thirty-Nine
The intensive care unit was still busy; there were no free beds. The officer had been removed from Bronte’s bedside, and Morgan could understand why. She was on a secure ward; access was only given by the nurses and visitors were restricted. She was in full view of the nurses’ station and it seemed a waste of resources to have an officer here full time. She approached the desk in the middle of the room. The nurses here were busy, all working on patients, and she waited until one was free to speak to her.
Kimberley, the nurse from the other day, waved at her, leaving Bronte to come and see her.
‘How is she?’
‘Holding her own; she was taken off the ventilator and is breathing unaided, which is great. There’s been some involuntary movements of her fingers and toes.’
‘Has her boyfriend been in today?’
She shook her head. ‘No, he hasn’t been here since the day before yesterday. I sent him home, told him he was no use to her if he was exhausted. I thought he’d have been back before now though.’
Morgan wondered how much information she was permitted to share with the woman, and then wondered how she could protect Bronte if she didn’t know what was happening. She would take the flak for it if needed, she decided. She leant forward and lowered her voice.
‘He tried to kill himself yesterday and was on Ward 12, but he’s discharged himself and I’m worried about him.’
The nurse’s hand lifted to her mouth. ‘Oh no, is it because I sent him home?’