So Say the Fallen (Dci Serena Flanagan 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

anything more to do here, do you?’
    Barr shook his head and pulled aside the curtain, showing the room in natural light for the first time since Flanagan had arrived. Flanagan moved the table back towards the bed, gave him room. As she did so, one of the framed photographs toppled forwards, almost fell to the floor, but Flanagan caught it. She put it back in its place, a picture of a child, in the row of loved ones who’d kept watch over Mr Garrick’s last peaceful breaths.
    Except they hadn’t.
    A strange thought. Flanagan tried to connect it to whatever had started to tug at her mind shortly after Mrs Garrick and the minister had left. Like an itch she couldn’t reach.
    Barr said something, but Flanagan didn’t hear.
    The photographs.
    She studied them, one after the other. The itch deepened.
    Barr spoke again. ‘I said, he’d have had a nice view from here.’
    Flanagan turned her head, followed his gaze. A well-kept garden, an expanse of healthy green lawn, an assortment ofshrubs, a few rock and water features, all bordered by a small wood, leaves beginning to brown, late afternoon sunshine spearing through the branches.
    ‘A nice view,’ Flanagan said, returning her attention to the photos. ‘But not much of a life.’
    Dr Barr buried his hands in his pockets. ‘It would have got better, though. He still had a lot of healing to do. A lot of pain to suffer. I spoke to his doctor earlier. Mr Garrick had lost too much muscle tissue for it to be wrapped over the bone, so healing was slower than below-the-knee amputations. That and a couple of infections had made it an even harder road for him. But given time, he’d have got there. He could’ve been mobile again. He wasn’t going to be locked in here for ever.’
    ‘Then why did he do it?’
    ‘With a journey that tough, that painful, maybe he couldn’t see the end of it.’
    Flanagan hesitated, then asked: ‘Are you definitely citing suicide?’
    Dr Barr turned to her, his eyebrows drawing together. ‘I haven’t seen anything here that suggests otherwise. Have you?’
    ‘No,’ Flanagan said. ‘Not really. Just . . .’
    ‘Just what?’
    She indicated the photographs, put words to what had bothered her. ‘We’ve both attended suicides before. We’ve both seen something like this. The pictures of family. When people take that step, they often want to see their loved ones.’
    ‘Yes,’ Dr Barr said. ‘And?’
    ‘He couldn’t see them,’ Flanagan said. ‘They were facing away from him. I didn’t realise when I first came in, the way the table was sitting by the patio doors. But when I moved it back . . .’
    Dr Barr looked down at the table, from one framed photograph to the next, a frown on his lips. ‘Maybe he wanted them close, but he couldn’t stand to see them. Or let them see what he was about to do. Who knows? When a person is about to take their own life, rationality doesn’t come into it. Anyway, it’s in the coroner’s hands now. Hope not to see you again too soon.’
    ‘Likewise,’ Flanagan said as Dr Barr exited.
    Alone, now.
    She stared at the table and the photographs for a few seconds longer before blinking and shaking her head, chasing the notion away. Another question she could never answer, one of a long list that spanned her career. This was a suicide, and no photograph would change it into something else.
    Flanagan turned in a circle, surveying the place where Henry Garrick had spent the last miserable months of his existence. The bible on the nightstand to one side of the bed, the selection of motoring magazines on the other. Above the bed, another framed verse of scripture, like those in the hall. Flanagan whispered the words.
Isaiah 41: 10: Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.
    She stared at the verse, suddenly aware of the currents of air around her, warm and cool. The