Panic (Part 3)

River, waiting outside the heavy double doors, cast her mind over the events of last night. After seeing Carlton, both girls had recovered their appetites and had eaten a good dinner in a restaurant just opposite the hospital, in case any more news came. Then they had gone back to River's flat -- neither feeling ready to go back to Carlton's empty house, even though it was much bigger. They had slept on the sofa in shifts, in case a call came from the hospital. And, at last, early this morning, it had come.

The doors swung open, and Louise came out. Her eyes were glittering suspiciously, but her face was calmer. "Your turn," she smiled, "Thanks for giving us some time alone."

"No problem," replied River. "How is he?"

"Not bad, I suppose," said Louise, "Considering... anyway, you can go in and see for yourself. I'll wait outside."

Inside the ward, Carlton lay in the same bed as he had been last night, but River was relieved to see that he no longer had the life support machine beside him and seemed to be breathing normally. Tubes were still wired into his hands and one was taped under his nose, but it was such an improvement from the last time that River couldn't help herself breaking out into a relieved smile.

"Mark!"

"It's sir as soon as I get out of bed, understood?" he said, and tears came to River's eyes as she saw the twinkle back in his.

"Understood." She pulled up a chair beside him. "God, you gave me such a fright! How are you feeling?"

"Like I've just been shot," he said, looking up at her. He hated feeling so pathetic, just lying there. "But I'll live."

"I'm glad to hear it."

There was a slight, awkward, pause, and then Carlton brightened. "Hey, Kate, can you do me a favour?"

River raised an eyebrow. "Sure, but it's back to 'River' as soon as you get out of bed."

He chuckled. "Fine, Kate. Help me sit up."

"You're supposed to be resting."

"Like hell I am. Help me up." And, when she didn't move, "If you don't, I'll try and do it myself. And then I'll rip out all my monitors and wires and probably fall into a coma again."

Knowing that she wouldn't put it past him, River plumped his pillows up behind him and raised him slowly into a sitting position. Then something clicked. "Again? You mean, it's happened before?"

Carlton shook his head dismissively. "Last night, after the anaesthetic. Only for a few hours. It's nothing, I'm fine."

"What?! Why wasn't I told this?"

"Calm down, I'm fine, like I told you. Anyway, I've something to show you. Look in the folder on that table over there."

River took it, and opened it up to see a couple of black and white photos. "What is this?"

"CCTV footage from the day that boy was killed. I've had an I.D. from his school: a Daniel Wyatt, aged 16, who apparently loved old buildings, which was probably why he investigated it in the first pla-"

"Wait, what?" River broke in. "You're still trying to solve this case?"

"Why shouldn't I be?" Carlton seemed completely confused.

"Well, for one thing, the last time you tried you ended up shot. Secondly, like I said, you're supposed to be resting, and I don't think solving crimes comes under that category. And thirdly, because we know who killed the boy, but he had a balaclava on, remember? CCTV footage won't help you much."

Carlton only considered the third one worth answering. "That's why I got it. Because I don't think the man who shot me is the same one who shot the boy. So I took a look at who went into the house that day, other than the boy."

River took a closer look at the photos. Three men were entering the house together. One had a balaclava over his head, and was about the height and weight of the man who had shot Carlton. Another had long blond dreadlocks that obscured his face. The third was wearing a large dark overcoat, the right arm of which hung oddly.

"Is that...?"

"A prosthetic, I think," replied Carlton, in response to River's pointing arm. "Who would you choose, out of the three?"

Answer (highlight to read): It was the man with dreadlocks. The man with the balaclava was a very good shot, as shown by the fact that his bullet hit Carlton exactly at the wrong (or right) angle. However, several shots were randomly fired before one hit the boy. The man with a prosthetic could not have fired a gun, which needs two hands to load (and it would have needed reloading after so many misses).