Part 10 (1/2)

Carrie stared at him, moved by the pa.s.sion in his voice. By the excitement that was evident in every bodily nuance. He obviously cared for this community enormously. He looked invigorated and very, very committed. His grey gaze was earnest. She'd never seen him looking s.e.xier.

But she wasn't paid to be swept away by pa.s.sionate ideals, even if they were being delivered so eloquently by a man who had pushed her against a door and kissed her breath away.

'And where will the money come from?'

'The bottom line again, Carrie?'

She heard the disdain in his voice and saw the contemptuous curl of his lips. 'Yes, Charlie, The bottom line. Sorry to be so boring but a project of this magnitude...' she tapped the plans with a pen '...takes serious cash.' She didn't have the heart to tell him that her investigation would probably lead to a recommendation of closure.

'Once you've finished your financial a.n.a.lysis I'll take everything to the hospital board. The plans and my ideas on funding them. This kind of project should attract a lot of monetary support from government, private and community sources.'

'I don't know, Charlie,' Carrie said, her gaze returning to the plans. She chose her words carefully. 'The drop-in centre is hardly a financial gold mine to start with. This will be a really hard sell.'

Charlie pushed away from the chair. 'It's a free clinic, Carrie. It's not in our charter to make a profit.'

'It's not in your charter to lose money, either. If you do succeed in convincing them to do this, you're going to need to keep your books better.'

Charlie grinned at her. 'I'll put a part-time bookkeeper in my proposal.'

Carrie shook her head as she watched him swagger out the door.

Charlie attacked the rest of the day with renewed vigour. He felt like he was starting afresh. The excitement he'd felt when he'd first had the plans drawn up returned. Formulating them shortly after his separation from Veronica had taken his mind off what had been happening in his personal life and he had worked on them day and night. Then a year ago his whole life had changed again in the blink of an eye, and he had put everything on hold. But no more. He intended to take his life back. No matter what it held.

An hour after Angela left for the day Charlie was at the front desk, looking for a file, when a young woman staggered into the clinic. She looked about seventeen and was clutching the two edges of her torn T-s.h.i.+rt together, one breast half-exposed. Her skirt was ripped, her face red and bruised, her bottom lip swollen and bleeding. She was sobbing and her mascara had run all down her face.

Charlie raced around the other side of the desk and caught her before she collapsed.

'Don't touch me, don't touch me,' she screamed at Charlie, struggling to free herself from his hold.

Charlie released her instantly. Everyone in the lounge and waiting area stopped and stared, the jukebox the only noise.

The girl didn't look familiar to Charlie. 'It's OK. I'm a doctor. My name's Charlie. You look hurt. What happened?'

The girl looked at him with fear and rage in her eyes. 'I couldn't stop him, he was too big.'

Charlie felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. The girl had been raped. d.a.m.n it, he needed Angela! 'Jordan,' he said to the nearest open-mouthed teenager, 'go and get Carrie.'

Jordan scuttled past quickly and hurried down the hallway to the staffroom.

'It's OK,' Charlie said again to the frightened girl, 'No one's going to hurt you here. You're safe now.'

Carrie strode briskly down the hallway, Jordan close behind. She arrived on the scene and stifled a horrified gasp at the badly beaten girl with wild eyes, her stance wary and agitated.

'This is Carrie,' Charlie said quietly. 'She's a doctor, too.'

Carrie felt the denial rise to her lips. No, no, no. She wasn't here for this. Ever since she'd met Charlie he'd been dragging her into situations she didn't want to be in. Had given up before Dana's birth. But the wounded-animal look in the girl's eyes called to something deep inside her, and she just couldn't turn away from such a wretched soul.

'How about you go with her and she sees to your injuries?'

Carrie looked at Charlie. The look in his eyes was almost as desperate as the girl's. He needed her to do this for him, for this girl. But more than that, his slight nod told her he had faith in her. That she could do it. That she'd be OK.

Carrie took a deep breath and took a hesitant step towards the frightened girl, giving her a rea.s.suring smile. 'Hi,' she said. 'Why don't we go in there?' She pointed behind her to the treatment room. 'Then I'll clean up your face.'

The girl swung her gaze from Charlie to Carrie. 'I tried to stop him.'

'I know,' Carrie said gently, holding out her hand. 'Come on, you're safe now.'

The girl looked at Carrie's hand and then back at Charlie and then back at Carrie. 'I don't want him,' she said to Carrie, pointing at Charlie.

Carrie flicked a glance at Charlie. I do. At the moment she wanted his back-up and support more than anything. 'No, it's OK, just you and me. Just the two of us.'

The girl wavered for a moment and then nodded, walking warily towards Carrie. Carrie put her arm around the girl's shoulders. She felt her flinch slightly. 'It's OK. Come on, not far.' She led the girl to the treatment room, helped her up onto the examination table and turned to shut the door.

'Find her some clothes,' she said to Charlie, who was hovering outside.

He nodded. 'I'll give you a plastic bag to put her other clothes in. The police will want them for evidence. Wear gloves. I'll get a counsellor from the rape crisis centre over and call the police.'

Carrie nodded and shut the door. She took a deep breath before she turned around to face the girl again. She'd had no experience with s.e.xual a.s.sault victims.

She opened some cupboards against the far wall, looking for a dressing pack of some description to clean the girl's cut lip. It also gave her time to think of how she was going to deal with the situation. To say she felt out of her depth was an understatement.

Carrie found what she needed and fussed over opening the pack and pouring some antiseptic liquid into one of the plastic pots. She placed it on the trolley and pushed it over, dragging the mobile stool as she went.

'What's your name?' Carrie asked as she sat on the stool, the long-forgotten clinician inside her a.s.sessing the girl's battered face.

'R-Roberta,' she said, her arms crossed across her torn T-s.h.i.+rt.

'Hi, Roberta.' Carrie reached down and pulled some gloves out of a box on the bottom of the trolley. 'Would you like to get out of those clothes?'

Roberta looked down at her tattered and bloodied clothes and nodded her head.

'I'll have to bag them for the police, is that OK?'

'The police?'

Carrie saw Roberta recoil. 'Yes. You do want this man caught, don't you?'

Carrie saw a host of emotions flit across Roberta's broken face and feared that the girl was about to burst into tears. Then a hardness entered her eyes and her jaw clenched. 'I want him to rot in a jail cell for ever.'

There was a quiet knock at the door and Roberta startled clutching at Carrie's arm. Carrie covered Roberta's hand with hers. 'It's OK. It'll be Charlie with some new clothes.'

Roberta's grip eased and she nodded at Carrie.

Carrie rose and opened the door. 'Thanks,' she said to Charlie, accepting the bundle he gave her.

'How's it going?'