Read Aftermath for Free Online Page B

superiority.
    Chris stood up straight, and came to life.
    "Mrs. Morrison, hello again.” he said, with the smooth tones and affable expression he used to put people at ease.
    The woman’s eyes widened. “You’re still here since this morning? Why aren’t you out looking for that monster ?” she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper.
    “We’ve just arrived with the GFU to assess your husband’s injuries,” Chris soothed. “Good to hear that he’s doing better.”
    “Don’t worry Annabel, rest assured that we are doing all we can to find this guy," Kennedy sputtered with such lack of eloquence Reilly physically turned to look at him.
    "Surely the man who stabbed my husband is not at this hospital," the woman replied pointedly, eyes narrowing.
    The man…
    Unlike the others, Reilly wasn't about to tip-toe.
    “So you believe the attacker was male?” she began, “that’s helpful information. In any case, now that your husband’s condition is stable, my colleagues and I would like to have a private word. The detectives need a full statement from you now, and the GFU also has some questions that will help us with our investigation. Also, we will need your prints and blood type, so as to differentiate you from the perpetrator.”
    “And you are?” the woman asked coldly.
    “Reilly Steel, Garda Forensic Unit.”
    “Oh, of course, anything you need," Annabel said, softening a bit.
    Chris waylaid a passing nurse. "Is there somewhere private we can speak?"
    “Sure, this way."
    They were led to a small six-person conference room with a white board, presumably for staff meetings.
    Reilly closed the door and let Mrs. Morrison get settled for a moment.
    “I take it you’ve changed your clothes from this morning,” she said, and the other woman nodded.
    “Yes…there was just so much blood.”
    “Where are those clothes now?”
    “My co-presenter … Tara… she picked these up from wardrobe at the studio, wanted me to have something more comfortable. I’m not sure what she did with my dress - dry cleaning I suppose? My jacket … I don’t know where that is …maybe downstairs somewhere. I used it try and stop the bleeding. It was Gucci.”
    Of course it was.
    Reilly eyed Kennedy who automatically picked up the phone. “I’m on it.”
    “I’m so sorry, I didn't realize it was important….” the woman sniffed, looking close to tears.
    “It’s fine, and we appreciate what you are going through, Mrs. Morrison," Reilly began, softening a little in the face of the woman’s obvious distress. “Thank you for co-operating."
    Then she opened her kitbag and pulled out a fingerprinting kit along with a sterile needle, vial, alcohol and cotton balls.
    “We’ll do everything we can to find the person who did this to your husband,” Kennedy told her, while trying to track down her clothes.
    Chris remained stoic, but Reilly noticed he kept swallowing and clearing his throat as she took Annabel Morrison’s fingerprints.
    She’d wait until the interview was finished before taking blood, for fear that the witness might pass out.
    Annabel barely looked up, and appeared to be holding back a fresh wave of tears.
    Reilly waited for Chris to do his job, but after the third time he cleared his throat, she decided to jump in. He was nervous, she realised.
    “Mrs Morrison, can you tell us exactly what happened last night? Step by step, please?"
    The woman shook her head, her perfect hair hardly moving. “Call me Annabel, please,” she replied as if by rote. “Oh, it’s all such a blur," she continued, her voice a low whisper. "I came home and ... and ... Josh … he…”
    The flood she was holding back escaped, and her beautiful face wrenched into a painful grimace, her mouth open in a silent and clenched sob.
    Chris jumped up and pulled up a chair right next to her, and without missing a beat, Annabel buried her face on his chest, shoulders rolling with uncontrollable sobs.
    Oh for crying out loud ….
    Then