They had no difficulty in reaching Deborah’s side ward without arousing untoward interest since it was still during visiting hours. Lindsay quickly scouted round to make sure the area was not under surveillance before the pair of them ducked into Deborah’s room. In the thirty-six hours since Lindsay had last seen her, Deborah had made a noticeable improvement. She was propped up on her pillows watching television, the deathly white pallor had left her skin, and she looked like a woman in recovery mode. Even the drips had been taken out. When they entered, she grinned delightedly. “At last,” she said. “I thought you’d all forgotten me.”
“Far from it,” said Lindsay, going to her and kissing her warmly. “Listen, there’s no time to explain everything now. But we’ve got to get you out of here. The doctors say you can be moved safely, and Jane’s promised to take care of you.”
Jane nodded, picking up the chart on the end of the bed. “It looks as if your condition is quite stable now,” she remarked. “Don’t worry, Deborah, you’ll be okay with me.”
“I don’t doubt it, Jane. But what’s all this about, Lin? Why can’t I stay here? Surely I must be safe enough or the police wouldn’t have left me unguarded?”
Lindsay sighed. “I know it looks like I’m being really highhanded about this, but it’s because I’m scared for you. You were attacked because Rupert Crabtree’s murderer thinks you know something that can compromise him. I’ll explain all the details later, I promise, but take it from me that the police won’t arrest the person who attacked you. He doesn’t know that, though. So you’ve got to get out of the firing line or he’ll have another go.
“I’ve managed to arrange somewhere for you and Cara to stay for a while till the heat dies down, somewhere no one will find you. I don’t trust the police to take care of you, so we’re doing it all off our own bat, without their help. Will you trust me?”
“I don’t seem to have a lot of choice, do I?” Deborah replied. “But I don’t know how you’re going to get me out of here. I tried getting out of bed this afternoon. It turned out to be a seriously bad idea.”
It was a problem that hadn’t occurred to Lindsay. But Jane had already found a solution. “A wheelchair, Lindsay,” she said, smiling at the look of dismay on the other’s face. “We passed a couple outside the main ward, in an alcove. Can you fetch one while I get Deborah ready?”
Lindsay strolled down the corridor, trying to look nonchalant till she reached the wheelchairs Jane had spotted. With all the subtlety of Inspector Clousseau, she wrestled one out of the alcove, struggled to release the brake, then shot off back to the side ward. Luckily no one saw her, for she would have aroused suspicion in the most naïve student nurse. Between them, Lindsay and Jane got Deborah into the wheelchair and wrapped a couple of hospital blankets round her. After checking that the coast was clear, they left the room. Jane started to push the wheelchair back the way they’d come, but Lindsay hissed, “No, this way,” leading them in the opposite direction. During her earlier visit, she had reconnoitered an alternative route that was quicker and less public. Back at the van, it was a matter of moments for Lindsay and Jane to lift Deborah in. Jane settled her into the double berth beside an overjoyed Cara.
Even so short a move had clearly taken its toll on Debs, who looked more tired and pinched than she had done a few moments ago. Jane carefully arranged the pillows under her to give her maximum support, but Deborah could not stifle a low moan as she tried to find a comfortable position for her head. Cara looked scared, but Jane soothed her and persuaded her to lie down quietly at the far side of the bed. Leaving the wheelchair where it stood Lindsay climbed into the driver’s seat.
With perfect timing, they left the hospital grounds in the middle of the stream of visitor’s cars departing from the scene of duty done. Lindsay stayed in the flow of traffic for half a mile or so, then turned off to make a circuitous tour of the back streets of Fordham town centre, keeping a constant check on her mirrors. She trusted Rigano to keep his word, but she felt no confidence that Harriet Barber would do the same. After ten minutes of ducking and diving, Lindsay felt satisfied that no one was on their trail and headed back to the MG. She drew up beside the car and turned round to confer.
“We’ve got a long drive ahead. I anticipate about twelve hours, given the van. We need to take both vehicles, so I can leave you the MG. Where you’re going you’ll need wheels, and I think I need to borrow the van for a while. I suggest that we swap at the half-way stage, Jane, around Carlisle?”
“Okay, but we’ll have to stop at every service area, so I can check on Deborah’s condition,” Jane replied.
“Just where are we going, Lin?” Deborah asked in a tired voice.
“An old school friend of mine has a cottage about ten miles from Invercross, where I grew up. She’s a teacher, and she’s away in Australia at the moment, on a six-month exchange scheme, so I fixed up for you to use the cottage. It’s lovely there, ten minutes from the sea. Electricity, bottled gas for cooking, telly, peat fires-all you could ask for. And no one will come looking for you there. Cara can even go to the village school if she wants. It’s a small community, but they’ll keep their mouths shut about you being there if my mother explains that you’re convalescing after an attack, and you’re scared the man who attacked you is still looking for you.”
“My God,” said Deborah faintly.
“I’m sorry,” said Lindsay. “I had to act quickly. I couldn’t just sit back. There was no one else I could trust to make sure you were protected.”
“And how long do I have to hide in the heather?”
“That depends. Until Simon Crabtree is dealt with. It could be months, I’m afraid.”
“I’ll stay as long as you need me,” Jane chipped in.
“I can’t take all of this in. What has Simon Crabtree to do with me?” Deborah demanded, hugging Cara close. “One minute I’m recuperating in the hospital, the next I’m thrust into a remake of The Three Musketeers crossed with The Thirty-nine Steps.”
“I’ll explain in the morning when I’m driving you, I promise,” Lindsay replied. “But right now, we should get a move on.”
“I’ll take the van as far as Carlisle, then,” Jane decided.
Lindsay nodded. “That’ll be best. And don’t push yourself too hard. Any time you need a rest or a coffee, just pull off at the services. I’m used to driving half the night, working shifts like I do, but I don’t expect you to do the same.”
“Cheeky so-and-so!” muttered Jane. “Have you forgotten the hours junior hospital doctors work? You’ll be flaked out long before I will, Lindsay.”
“Sorry, I forgot,” Lindsay apologized.
The journey seemed endless. Deborah and Cara managed to sleep most of the way, only really waking during the last couple of hours. Lindsay explained the reasons for their flight to Deborah as she drove the last sixty miles down the familiar narrow roads with their spectacular views of the Argyllshire mountains and sea lochs on all sides. Cara was spellbound by the changing scenery and seemed not to be listening to the adult conversation.
Lindsay reached the end of her tale as they arrived in the tiny fishing village of Invercross. A cluster of brightly painted houses and cottages crowded along the harbour. “So here we are,” Lindsay concluded. “Right back where I started all those years ago. Only this time, on the run like Bonnie Prince Charlie and Flora Macdonald.” She pulled up outside a small, two-storey house on the harbour front. “Wait here a minute. I’ve got to get the keys.”