Witness

10. Kaiden

"Sorry I'm late." 

Nora Beckett continues to stare out of her bedroom window, sitting with a shawl around her shoulders but still letting her breath fog the glass at her mouth. 

"Mum?" I call. 

One can never be too sure with Nora. The Sunday visits are as unpredictable as her moods - on some days she's bouncing around the room with joy and on others she won't speak a single word. I approach without caution and sit on the edge of her bed. The sheets crinkle around my frame.

She turns to me and smiles, "Kaiden, love. Is it Sunday already?" 

"It is. How's your week been?" 

Her primary doctor met me at the entrance when I arrived, which is never a good sign. Her memory is always getting worse, and she's letting it frustrate her. She doesn't like to take her meds. We've been sedating her twice as much as usual. 

Never anything good to report.

"Incredible," Nora says, looking out of the window once more. "They've been letting us plant vegetables in the garden." 

I don't tell her that she told me that last week, or the week before. I just smile and join her at the window, looking out at the small ever-growing vegetable patch. 

It's a nice care home. One of the most expensive ones, but worth it's weight in extra funding. The residents actually get to leave their rooms, get to go on trips, get to have doctors on call twenty-four seven. 

"What've you planted?" I murmur. 

"Cabbage. Denise wanted the cabbage, didn't she? But I got right in there. She got to do the carrots in the end..." I smile and nod, smiling at her in the reflection of the window. It's a dreary day today, damp, grey and cold. 

And I'm still thinking about the last time I ran into Chelsea Jones. 

Seeing Damien's girlfriend at the hospital has sent my head spinning. James Hartley is obviously supposed to be dead for one reason or another - who the fuck knows why - and the fact that Damien would stoop low enough to send his girl to do the dirty work doesn't sit right on my chest. If that's what she was there for. 

It's confusing, disorientating. I seem to run into her at every turn, and I should feel more exposed than ever. If she truly is dating Damien - and I'm pretty sure she is - then my head should be the first on the chopping block. But there's something not quite right with the entire situation, something I can't put my finger on. 

I realised when I first saw her in the coffee shop that she was the dark haired girl from that night. The one kept in shadows, tucked under Damien's arm when James Hartley was dragged out of that hotel, beaten into what should've been an early grave. 

She got into Damien's car and I followed them home. Not realising that Tony wasn't with them - that he still had the body. Maybe James Hartley wouldn't still be in a coma right now if I'd have followed the right car. 

"Sweetheart?" Nora asks. 

"Hm?" 

"Are you listening? Away with the fairies today, dearest. What's on your mind?" 

"Just work, nothing important." 

"Always work," she sighs, smiling over at me. "Is it that same case you're working on?" 

I take a seat on the edge of her bed again, resting my elbows on my knees as she turns her chair to face me. The sun threatens to break through some of the dark clouds outside, but the sky remains grey.