Truth Lies Waiting (Davy Johnson Series Book 1) by Emma Salisbury Page B

placing it on
the table beside me. Marcia, the quieter of the twins, steps forward: ‘Can I
get you something, Davy?’ She asks. I nod slowly; already my senses seem
dulled. ‘Drink,’ I gasp. Marcia fetches a bottle of brandy from a makeshift bar
in the corner of the room and pours me a large glass.
    ‘You
were lucky Davy,’ Jude says sternly as she cuts through the denim on my right
leg so she can access my knee. I’m not sure I would describe today as one of my
luckiest, but the morphine/brandy combo has started working its magic and I
can’t be arsed contradicting her. In fact, I start to feel giddy, like
everything’s a blast even when I see the extent of the damage: my knee has
swollen to three times its original size. The women are frowning, which makes
me want to laugh. Ignoring me, Jude continues:
    ‘This
could’ve been a lot worse. The fact that you had jeans on meant the damage has
been limited. The denim held your knee in place, providing support. You’ve been
a lucky wee sod, Davy.’
    She
looks over at the twins who are standing like sentries by my side. ‘Get an old
sheet,’ she instructs them, ‘cut it into wide strips………and find me some safety
pins.’ The girls set about following Jude’s instructions, which gives her the
privacy she’s looking for.
    ‘What
the hell happened?’ She asks quietly.
    ‘The
cop did it.’
    ‘Which
one?’ she asks sharply, taking the glass I’d been drinking from and re-filling
it with brandy which she knocks back in one go. ‘You mean the one who’s been
causing trouble for you?’
    I
nod. ‘It was him that drove me here.’
    ‘Ye
mean he did this tae ye then was going to take ye hame?’ Jude shakes her head
angrily. ‘Shit, I wished I’d known, I was too busy looking at the state of
you,’ she mutters, adding, ‘I didn’t pay him any mind.’
    Jude’s
looked out for me ever since I was a kid, threatening school bullies who made
my life a misery, making sure Mum’s boyfriends didn’t pay me the wrong sort of
attention. She means well but I doubt there’s little she can do to MacIntyre,
other than give him an STI.
    I
give her the headlines, starting with MacIntyre’s assault on Daz, the robbery
at the factory and my subsequent arrest. I leave out my car drive with Marcus;
there’s nothing to be gained by revealing I’m now in debt to him, besides, there’s
a limit to how much Jude will help me before deciding that Mum has a right to
know. Don’t get me wrong, I think the world of Mum, but she’s always been
useless in a crisis; Jude’s the one that I’ve turned to over the years and she
seems to know instinctively what support Mum is grateful for her giving and
what she’d resent.
    Jude
has been listening to me carefully as I tell her about the assault on Daz, her
eyes darting to the front room door in case one of the twins walks back in.
‘Jesus Davy,’ she sighs, puffing out her cheeks like a mechanic assessing the
work required on a damaged car. ‘Are you sure that’s what you saw? I mean,
junkies’d sell the steam from their piss if they could get it in a bottle, if
this Daz needs money he’ll not be fussed who he fucks, if it wasn’t your man….
it could easily have been someone else.’
    Jude
isn’t interested in the fact that MacIntyre is a cop; she’s serviced enough of
them – both in and out of uniform – to know they’re as partial to a guilt free
leg over as the next man. She’s shocked by my naivety: ‘You’ve accused a copper
who hates you of having sex in a toilet-’
    ‘-against
Daz’s will!’ I interrupt, reminding her.
    ‘Ye know that?’ she demands, ‘You’ve actually asked this boy to confirm he
was there against his will?’
    I
shake my head: ‘I haven’t had a chance yet-’
    ‘-But
still, you thought you’d rake it up without checking your facts first?’ I
forget Jude has also serviced several lawyers over the years; her knowledge of
legal argument brings a whole new meaning to on