He went to bed early and woke at six-thirty as it was beginning to get light. The hotel was quiet other than the first sounds of stirring from behind the kitchen doors when he looked in the restaurant. He decided to go for a walk before breakfast, partly from curiosity and partly to loosen up his leg, which had stiffened overnight. The town was deserted, the sky purple, beginning to turn blue as the sun crept up over the hills. When he reached the river he followed the public footpath across the meadow and as he approached the trees on the far side he detected the familiar, tangy scent of cut pine and sawdust. As he drew nearer he could see that the sawmill was still there. He paused, flooded with memories of riding his bike this way in the holidays before catching the bus into Carlisle and his job at the Courier. Other memories crowded and jostled in his mind and when he turned and walked back the way he’d come crows flapped from the trees and mocked him.
At the hotel he ate breakfast alone in the restaurant, though next to him a table covered with the litter of empty cups and egg-smeared plates was testament to the fact that others had also been up early. Afterwards he drove along the valley towards Brampton and took the main road to Carlisle where he followed the signs to the new hospital. Inside he followed directions to the pathology department and asked to speak to Dr Keller.
‘My name’s Turner,’ he told the receptionist. ‘I have an appointment.’
Dr Keller, when she arrived, didn’t fit the mental picture Adam had already formed of her based on their brief phone conversation when he’d called from London. He was expecting somebody older than the woman in her mid-thirties who approached him. Her smile was friendly as she offered her hand.
‘I’m afraid I can’t spare you more than half an hour,’ she said, speaking with a soft Scottish accent as she led the way along a narrow corridor.
Her office was large and untidy. Files in brown folders that hadn’t made it to the filing cabinets were stacked on every available surface. She made space for him on a chair beneath a framed certificate from Edinburgh University on the wall.
‘On the phone you mentioned a road accident.’ She sat behind her desk and opened files she had already retrieved. ‘Three young men. Pierce, Frost and Davies?’
‘That’s right.’
‘And you’re a journalist?’
‘I’m a freelance writer. I specialize in investigative features.’
‘I see. Well, I’ve checked with the police and there’s no investigation pending. The coroner’s verdict was accidental death, but I take it you’re aware of that.’
‘Yes.’
Dr Keller laced her fingers together on her desk. ‘So, how can I help?’
‘When we spoke you said autopsies were performed on all three victims. Did you examine the bodies yourself?’
‘Actually, yes.’
‘Can you tell me if you found anything unusual at all? Anything to indicate this could have been something other than an accident.’
She furrowed her brow. ‘I’m afraid I don’t follow you.’
He explained briefly that Helen Pierce maintained that her brother, who was supposedly the driver of the car, not only didn’t know how to drive, but didn’t drink either. ‘I understand the autopsy results showed that his blood alcohol level was several times above the legal limit.’
She listened without comment, and then began to scan the contents of the files in front of her. ‘That’s correct.’ As she leafed through the pages she laid out some photographs on the desk. They were black and white prints, each of the naked body of a young male, Ben Pierce among them. He lay face up on the autopsy slab, the channels designed to carry away body fluids clearly visible.
‘Judging from the contents of his stomach and by measuring the rate of alcohol absorption in his blood and brain I’d say this young man had consumed the equivalent of a large glass, or about a quarter of a bottle of spirits prior to the accident.’
‘Enough to make him drunk?’
‘People react differently when they drink, but I’d say so, yes. In his case the reaction might well have been worse.’
‘Oh? Why is that?’
‘He also had traces of a drug called Lamictal in his blood. Do you know what that is?’
‘The medication he took to control his epilepsy?’
‘That’s right.’
‘His sister claims that he didn’t drink much because of his medication. Apparently more than a beer made him sick.’
Dr Keller met his eye and though she didn’t look entirely unsympathetic she shrugged slightly. ‘That’s quite possible. The side-effects people experience from drugs like Lamictal can vary, but certainly for some mixing it with alcohol could make them quite ill. However, there is no doubt that this young man had been drinking.’
‘There’s no chance of some kind of error I suppose? Perhaps his results were mixed up with somebody else’s.’
She shook her head, and smiled a little wryly. ‘I’ll disregard the implied slur on my professional conduct, Mr Turner. There is absolutely no chance of a mistake having occurred.’
‘No offence intended, Doctor.’
‘Then none is taken.’
Somehow it was this one thing, this anomaly that Helen Pierce had been so adamant about that had struck Adam most of all. If she was wrong about that, then perhaps she was wrong about everything else too. Maybe she simply hadn’t known her brother as well as she thought.
‘You said that this young man’s sister claims that he couldn’t drive,’ Dr Keller said.
‘He never learned because of his epilepsy. Apparently their parents were killed in a car accident. By a drunk driver.’
‘Have you considered the possibility that that fact in itself may very well explain what happened here? A young man whose judgement is impaired by alcohol gets behind the wheel of a car. His inexperience leads to the accident.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s tragic, but I’m afraid not unusual.’
On the face of it, her logic made sense, Adam had to admit. Except that Dr Keller hadn’t known Ben Pierce the way Helen had.
‘Anyway, I don’t see anything unusual here,’ Dr Keller said at length. ‘The injuries are consistent with those I would expect to see with victims of a road accident.’
Adam examined the picture of Ben, looking in particular at a black mark between his neck and shoulder. Other than this blemish he appeared uninjured. ‘What is that, a cut?’ Streaks of what he assumed was blood ran away from the wound and down across his shoulder and ribcage.
‘Yes.’ Dr Keller referred to her notes. ‘There were traces of paint in the wound that matched samples from the vehicle. The wound itself is around six inches long, and penetrates to a depth of almost an inch. About half of it appears to be a clean cut, the edges are more or less neatly severed. The rest is messier, more jagged.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘My guess would be that it was caused by a section of metal from the wreck. It was forced in like so.’ She demonstrated what she meant by pointing her hand and thrusting downwards towards the space between her own neck and shoulder. ‘The angle of entry suggests it might have come from the roof. Then, forced by the momentum of the crash it cut through the flesh towards the base of the neck.’ She slashed towards her own neck with the tips of her fingers. ‘That would have produced this jagged section of the wound. It was this that killed him by the way. The artery was partially severed. Other than that this young man suffered only a few minor abrasions, apart from a blow to the head, which very likely rendered him unconscious. Though it wouldn’t have killed him.’
‘So, you’re saying cause of death was what exactly?’
‘He bled to death. Probably over several hours.’
Adam thought about that. ‘He was found in the driver’s seat, I believe, still wearing his seatbelt. If it took so long for him to die, why didn’t he get out of the car? Wouldn’t you expect him to go for help?’
‘As I said, he was probably already unconscious. With the amount of blood that he lost, I doubt that he ever came around.’
‘But it took several hours before he died?’
‘I would say so.’
Adam looked at the photographs of the other two bodies, and something about them struck him. Both Keith Frost and Simon Davies appeared to have suffered more visible injuries than Ben. They were each marked with a mass of what looked like bruises and abrasions. He pointed it out. ‘Isn’t that odd?’
‘Actually there is a logical explanation. They were both found some distance from the car. My guess is that neither of them was wearing a seatbelt. The first time the car rolled the doors probably popped open like the ends of a can and they were thrown out. It happens all the time. That partly accounts for their more obvious injuries. Both were killed almost instantly by the way, and both from a massive trauma to the head.’