Out of the Dark Read Free

but lots of the old disused light-industrial buildings were being turned into lofts like hers or taken over by architects and designers. And just
across Southwark Street, near Tate Modern and the river, there were flats that cost a fortune.
    ‘After what I’ve seen at the nick every Saturday night, I wouldn’t want to be out alone on the streets round here after dark,’ he said.
    Trish thought of all the evenings when she’d walked back from work over Blackfriars Bridge or picked her way home through the dark streets from the expensive parking space she rented under the furthest of the railway arches. She’d never been molested in all the years she’d lived here, and she’d never been afraid of the area or of anyone else who belonged in it. George didn’t like it, of course. He much preferred the cosy, domesticated streets of Fulham, but they made Trish feel like an eagle crammed into a budgie’s cage.
    The thinner officer was demanding the driver’s documents. She looked terrified now, as well as shivering and ill, and hardly seemed to understand what he wanted.
    ‘Oh, come on,’ Trish said, impatience adding a rasp to her voice. ‘You know perfectly well that hardly anyone carries insurance details, or even a driving licence. The law requires a driver to present her documents to a police station within seven days of being asked to do so. She’s got plenty of time. You have breathalysed her and found her clear of alcohol. She can’t have been driving anywhere near the speed limit or there would have been a lot more damage to the car as well as the child. You haven’t any reason to detain or bully her like this. And she should be in hospital.’
    The officer’s face looked as though all the life had been washed out of it. Trish knew she’d blown her cover and could have sworn in irritation. She’d been so careful to avoid telling these two that she was a barrister, knowing how much most of them loathed ‘briefs’ for the way they were assumed to use legal technicalities to protect the guilty.
    ‘I wouldn’t dream of trying to bully anyone, Ms … What’s your name?’
    ‘Maguire. I told you that before. Trish Maguire.’
    ‘OK.’ He turned back to the driver to give her instructions about taking her documents to the police station, before reminding her that they had her name and address and would be contacting her when a decision had been taken on whether to charge her. He hoped for her sake that the victim survived. Penalties for killing by means of dangerous driving were increasing with every case. Then he and his colleague exchanged glances and moved towards their car.
    ‘Are you just going to leave her here?’ Trish demanded, following them.
    It appeared they were. They were not going to arrest her at this moment. Her smashed car was not causing an obstruction, and the wall had not been damaged. In due course, after their investigation was finished, she would be able to get the car towed to a garage. She wasn’t injured. She wasn’t their responsibility.
    ‘But she needs medical care.’
    ‘There’s no sign of injury. If you think she should be in hospital, I’m sure you can make the arrangements for her.’
    Trish wished she’d kept her mouth shut. This, she was sure, was punishment for her profession and her intervention on the driver’s behalf. But she was too worried about the woman’s condition to play games now. The rigors were shaking the driver so violently that Trish was afraid she might break her teeth.
    The officers drove away. Trish felt panicky and powerless and quite unlike herself. All she could think of was the sight of the bloody, broken body that had been huddled at the foot of the wall. Hearing the sound of deep gulping sobs, she turned. The driver was bent double over the bonnet of her car, howling.
    ‘He’s going to die. I know he is.’
    ‘Come on,’ Trish said, trying not to join in. ‘I’ll drive you to hospital. Get you checked over. You’ll be all