Red Light by Graham Masterton Page A

although we have no way of telling exactly because girls vary in the age of their sexual maturity. Her breasts have started to develop, but typically African girls show signs of breast development a year earlier than Caucasian girls, although nobody knows why. However, she has been desperately undernourished and because of that her menarche has not yet started.’
    ‘How about her general physical condition?’
    ‘She has some patterned scarring on her back and arms, which looks like lizards or scorpions and appears to be tribal decoration of some kind. If you can find somebody who is an expert on such scarring you might be able to identify where she has come from. But she also has severe diagonal scarring, which is almost certainly the result of having been whipped or beaten with a stick.’
    ‘I see. Any genital mutilation?’
    Dr Surupa turned over the page of his clipboard. ‘No, no FGM, although that surprises me a little in the light of all the rest of the tribal scarring. However, she
has
been sexually abused, and very violently. She has both vaginal tears and anal fissures, both comparatively recent. I don’t like to imagine what objects must have been forced up inside her.’
    Katie stood looking out of the window at two young nurses running and laughing across the car park. Then she said, ‘Thank you, doctor. I’d appreciate it if you’d keep me up to date with any changes in her condition – especially if she starts to talk. I’ll come back to see her as often as I can.’
    She walked back to Isabelle’s room. To her surprise, Branna MacSuibhne, the new young reporter from the
Echo
, was standing next to Isabelle’s bed, taking pictures with her iPhone.
    ‘What in the
name
of Jesus are you doing in here?’ she demanded. Then she turned around to the armed garda and said, ‘Why did you let
her
in? She’s a reporter, for God’s sake! I thought you were supposed to be taking care of this young woman’s security?’
    The garda stood up, dropping his newspaper on the floor. ‘I’m sorry, ma’am!’ he protested. ‘She told me she was one of the medical team.’
    ‘I did not so!’ said Branna.
    ‘Well, she didn’t tell me she wasn’t.’
    ‘Oh, I see,’ said Katie. ‘So long as somebody doesn’t actually introduce themselves as a reporter, or a criminal, or a homicidal maniac, they’re all right to come waltzing in, are they? Does she
look
like one of the medical team, with her handbag and all?’
    ‘I only wanted to get the human side of this story,’ said Branna.
    ‘You’ll get the human side of my hand if you don’t get away out of here. And give me that phone.’
    Branna reluctantly handed over her iPhone and Katie ushered her out of the room, looking back at Isabelle as she did so. Isabelle was staring at the television, seemingly oblivious to all this disturbance.
    Out in the corridor, Katie methodically deleted all Branna’s pictures of Isabelle from her camera. Before she handed her iPhone back, though, she said, ‘What about recording?’
    Branna’s cheeks were flushed with frustration. ‘There was nothing to record.’
    ‘She didn’t say anything to you?’
    ‘Not a word.’
    ‘Then push on, girl, and don’t think of coming back uninvited.’
    ‘You can’t stop me getting my story,’ Branna challenged her.
    ‘I’m not going to try to, Branna. But I
can
stop you from making a holy show of this young girl. In the whole of your lifetime, you will never have to suffer what she’s already been through, so don’t you forget it!’
    ‘We’ll have to see about that, won’t we?’ said Branna, and stalked off along the corridor with her water-buffalo hairstyle bouncing.

Nine
    As soon as he saw Mânios Dumitrescu appear out of number thirty-seven, lighting a cigarette as he came, Niamh’s son, Brendan, said, ‘Right, that’s it!’ and went for the front door. Niamh, however, caught hold of his sleeve to hold him back.
    ‘Don’t, Brendan! They’re not worth