Broadchurch: Across the Pond

Chapter 6

TW: mild medical talk

With thoughts of the strange new case bouncing round her head, Ellie didn't think she'd get any sleep, but she was out for over two hours. She checked to be sure Alec was still breathing, then set about acquiring some dinner. The front desk gave her some recommendations.

The DoorDash delivery took over an hour, and was so expensive that Ellie was glad it was on the LAPD's tab. The troll in the other room started to stir shortly after the food arrived; she heard him groan his way out of bed. He stuck his head into Ellie's room.

"Can I come in?" he asked hoarsely.

"Sure. Dinner'sin the mini-fridge."

Alec shuffled in, and retrieved a massive wax-paper-wrapped parcel from the refrigerator. "What's this?"

"It's a sandwich," Ellie explained as he joined her at the table. "The Americans call it a sub."

He unwrapped a sandwich that was a foot long and six inches thick. "Bloody hell. People actually eat this? "

"The girl on the phone asked if I wanted it cut in half or planned to eat it all at once."

"And I thought Broadchurch was another world. It's not bad, though," Alec said once he'd tried it.

"How are you feeling?" Ellie asked solicitously.

"Fine."

"Good." She stood up and slapped him upside the head. "That's for scaring me! And that--" she knocked on his skull with her knuckles "--is for being so daft!"

"Ow!" he yelped, choking.

"Explain," Ellie ordered. "Now."

Alec finally managed to swallow. She deserved to know. So, he explained how, two months ago, he woke with chest pain. His cardiologist it was probably an anomaly. When it happened again, the doctor scheduled a pacemaker replacement surgery, which still had not been done. He upped Alec's regular medicine, and added injections in case of an episode. In the meantime, no stress and no exertion.

"You should have told me," Ellie said. She felt like a broken record. "And you shouldn't have come here."

"The doctor cleared me to travel. Not my fault he was wrong."

They were getting nowhere. Ellie changed the subject. "I think we should go to the station early tomorrow, before anyone else. Get started on the murder wall."

'Murder Wall' was a method that they had adopted after the Sandbrook case: they took every picture, transcript, map, and bit of paper they could find and pasted it to a wall like a mural. Every location got a pushpin on the map, every suspect and victim got a picture and profile. Then they literally connected the dots. The Broadchurch team used it flawlessly; visitors were horrified.

"I think you're right," Alec said. "We'll get more done without people round."

Ellie's mobile went off. She checked the caller ID and grinned. "It's the boys!"

"I'll leave you to it," Alec said. He started clearing the table whilst she answered the call.

"Yeah, Uncle Alec's here. Tom and Fred say hi!" Ellie called cheerfully.

Alec waved vaguely on the way to his own room.

"He sends love and hugs," Ellie lied. She bit back a laugh when Alec's middle finger poked through the doorway. "This is nothing like Florida, lovelies. It's hot, and crowded. We had these sandwiches...."

Alec shut the door between rooms, drowning out his partner's happy chattering. He went to the bathroom for water and caught sight of himself in the mirror. Miller was right, he looked terrible. Not that he looked posh on a good day, but now his eyes were so shadowed that he looked more dead than alive. No wonder she was so worried. The bloody pacemaker was supposed to solve all this. What was next, surgery? A transplant? He couldn't be a cop if this continued. It was the only career he'd ever known, ever wanted. If he wasn't a cop, what was he?

No, that was stupid. Even if he wasn't a cop, he was still a father. That mattered more than anything.

His mobile dinged. Speak of the devil: it was Daisy.

Sry dad, lotta homework. will call tmrw. luv u.

He smiled—scarcely a full word in any of it. He answered in a more coherent manner: it's ok, baby. talk to you soon. love you too.

She answered back in seconds. dont call me baby.

sorry, darling.

DAD.

ok, sweetheart.

SERIOUSLY.

goodnight, kitten.

STOP DOING THAT. GOOD NITE.

Still smiling, Alec put his mobile away. Pet names were an inside joke with them. Daisy hated them, so Alec used them all the time. She knew he was sick, of course. He'd learned that lesson years ago, when he's collapsed during a foot chase. When he woke up in hospital, he decided he wouldn't keep anything about his health from his daughter again.

He sat down and started taking his night medicine. In the morning, he and Miller were going to hit this case hard. They'd solve it, like they had so many others. They'd do it fast, too, because a couple more of those sandwiches might just give him a heart attack for real.