Chapter 5: Transfer

The phone was under the bed frame, and the camera wouldn't swing away until ten past twelve.

The van was coming at eleven.

I lay in Room 14 and watched the clock over the door.

Seven. Eight. Nine.

If I screamed, the girl wouldn't be saved. I'd just be in the van with her.

If I walked out of this room on my own two feet, the whole ward would know by morning, and so would Stewart.

At ten the night shift came on.

I heard the orderly's voice at the nurses' station, low and tired, asking about the coffee.

At ten-fifteen she came in with her flashlight to do the first check.

She shone it at the ceiling, not at my face.

I blinked.

Short short short long. Short long. Long short.

She stood very still with the light pointed up.

I did it again, slower.

V. A. N.

Then I whispered it, because Morse was too slow for this.

"The girl. Eleven o'clock. Call Matthew."

"I don't have his number."

"Under the bed. Last text."

She knelt by the bed.

Her arm went under the frame.

When she stood up, her face hadn't changed at all.

She left the room with her flashlight swinging.

The door clicked.

I waited until the footsteps faded, and then I couldn't stand it anymore.

I slid off the bed and crawled to the window.

The blind was the cheap kind, metal slats. I lifted one with a fingertip.

Room 14 looked down on the front drive.

A long white sweep of gravel, lit by lamps, running to the iron gate.

At ten-fifty a white van came up the road with its headlights on.

It stopped outside the gate and waited for it to open.

The gate began to swing.

Then another pair of headlights came around the bend behind the van, fast.

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