Beyond the Blood Streams

by Ben Oakley

  But maybe she did know more about this than she was letting on. Was she the golden clue that had fallen on my lap at just the right time?

  “Get behind the sofa,” I said to her, “and don't make a sound.”

  I walked to the door and opened it, pre-empting the police knocking.

  “Ah Mr. Lake,” one of the two officers said, “we were following up on a possible intruder report.”

  “Yeah look, I'm so sorry. I've been having terrible nightmares because of what's going on with this whole thing.”

  I explained to them what they should have known about Paine and they were happy to put it down as a false alarm. They left pretty sharpish but I had a gut feeling I was doing the right thing.

  I turned and couldn't see her. “You can come out now,” I said.

  I watched as she rose calmly and nervously from behind my sofa, “thank you, Harrison. Thank you for believing in me.”

  “Don't speak too soon.”

  “I'm yours, my life is in your hands.”

  I suddenly thought back to Jess, “don't give me that responsibility, just don't.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “We're gonna get you some better clothes, then we're gonna have a drink and work out what the hell is going on here.”

  Thirty Five

  It was nearing six in the morning when Stansey finally started to calm down. I showed her where she could have a shower and then the room where I kept all my clothes, alongside a rail of other clothing.

  When Jess had stayed with me, I raided a charity shop for all kinds of clothing and filled an entire rack with them. They were all different sizes and styles and I was sure Stansey was going to find something that would fit, and might even suit her.

  I waited for her in the lounge and she came down just as it was starting to get light outside. I offered her a coffee and croissant and she accepted with thanks. I ate two croissants on account of the fact I was still having hunger pangs from the day before. It didn't bother me, two croissants wouldn't pile the pounds on – but I did think about a third one.

  She sat opposite me in an open-zip white hoodie with a red tank-top underneath. The ripped black trousers with red pockets certainly brought the outfit together, even if it wasn't going to be my first choice for her. Her hair was tied back high on her head and she had applied a copious amount of moisturiser to her face, leaving her with a gleam under the bright lights of the lounge.

  “Thank you,” she said, “I know this can't be easy on you but it's not easy on me either.”

  “How did you get in here?”

  “You left your window open at the back on the first floor. It wasn't too difficult to shimmy up the drain pipe and reach over.”

  “No. I meant how did you get in here the first time?”

  “First time?”

  “When I found you in my cellar?”

  “Sorry, yes. I don't know.”

  “Can we spit-ball for a moment?” I asked, wanting to speed this whole thing up.

  She nodded, “you mean like a brainstorm?”

  I nodded back, “exactly like that.”

  “That would be good, I'll be as honest as I my mind will allow.”

  I wasn't hanging about, “Stansey King is dead. Who are you?”

  “Some bits come back to me in my dreams and others in moments of time that go by all too quickly. I remember my family, we lived near a forest in a beautiful place but I don't remember where and I don't know their names.”

  “Are you from England?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Because there are no missing persons reports in this country that match your description, photo, or DNA.”

  She held back tears, “it's what hurts me so much. Why do I believe my name is Stansey King?”

  “I'm unsure.” I sat forward to the edge of the sofa. “Have you ever been hypnotised?”

  Why was I always harking back to that reason? It just always seemed to be a logical explanation to me. But then who was hypnotising her, if that was the case?

  “I don't think so.”

  I was happy with that response. “What's the last thing you remember?”

  “When?”

  “You said you woke up in my cellar, so what do you remember before that?”

  She looked at her hands, “I was being held somewhere but I don't know where, I was masked or blindfolded. I only felt and smelled the person who had me. That's how I know now it wasn't you. You don't have the same smell as the other guy.”

  “Glad to know it,” I smirked. “How long were you being held for?”

  “Weeks, maybe longer.”

  “So you potentially disappeared around the same time as the other Stansey King?” It was less of a question and more of a fact-check for my own personal use. I stormed ahead, “what do you remember before you were taken?”

  “I remember my childhood and teen years until now but I can't focus on where my family lived. I don't remember names, only images. I was being held in a dark place, somewhere real smelly, dim lights, unnatural feel to it.”

  I saw her struggling to pin-point her memory, “go on.”

  “It was almost basement-like. It might have been an underground facility, I don't know. I remember wearing rags for clothing.”

  “If I had photographs of such a place could you identify it?”

  She ignored my question, “wait! I can remember something else. A smell like old beer, like a brewery maybe but that was after I had been in his basement, I was moved somewhere but I didn't know where or why. I tried to escape many times but he pulled me back and kept me there. He wouldn't let me leave.”

  “Your kidnapper?”

  “I would think so, I'm not sure. I was confused, I still am confused,” she looked at me with lost eyes. “There was something wrong with me and I'm not sure what it was.”

  “Were you suffering from something in particular?”

  She cocked her head to the side and looked more closely at her coffee cup before taking a big gulp. “This is a nice coffee, thank you.”

  “It's my own blend.”

  “How do you blend your own coffee?”

  I smirked, “tell me what might have been wrong with you and I'll tell you how I blend my coffee. Deal?”

  “It's difficult, I think I was suffering from some kind of mental health issue but I'm not sure what.”

  “Focus.” I raised a finger, “so it must have been pretty serious for you to have been there for weeks and be confused.” I raised a second finger, “what could it have been?” And a third, “does it feel like something in particular? Everyone knows their own bodies better than anyone else.” I put my hand down.

  “Yes, I was suffering from something but... god, it's so hard.”

  “Were you having delusions?”

  “I guess so?”

  “You guess so?”

  “Well I must have been to not remember too much.”

  “Not necessarily, you could have been suffering from depression, anxiety, stress. Any number of seemingly unimportant issues can rise to fully take over your life and put you on the back burner.”

  I stood and asked her to do the same, she hesitantly did so and we faced each other, just a metre between us.

  “I'm gonna mix this up, I'm gonna go quick-fire. Answer immediately. If you don't know the answers then see what you come up with as quick as possible.”

  “Right, okay,” she said, crossing her arms.

  I jumped straight in, “how old are you?”

  “Nineteen.”

  “Date of birth?”

  “March 8th, 2001.”

  “Jeez, you make me feel old. Where were you born?”

  “Slovenia,” she shocked herself.

  “Good! Keep going!” I focused her attention on me.

  “Why do you have a British accent?”

  “I studied here. At Oxford University.”

  “Where are your parents?”

  “Deceased,”
she suddenly put her hand to her mouth in shock.

  I raised my hands to calm her down again. Just keep going, I thought to myself. She was doing well and things were coming out that I hadn't expected. I roughly knew where Slovenia was in Europe but if I was honest, I'd struggle to pinpoint it on a map.

  “You're doing well,” I said, “are you alright?”

  She waved her hands in front of her face, “please go on, I'm remembering.”

  “Did your parents ever live in Oxford?”

  “Yes, for five years until they passed away.”

  At least it explained to me how she had come to claim her parents were in Oxford. But it still didn't explain the belief she was someone else. I had to keep pressing. I felt I was getting somewhere with her.

  I started walking around her slowly, leaving a two foot space between us. As I circled her, I continued with the questioning.

  “Where do you work?”

  “I don't have a job.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “Essex,” she said quickly, again surprising herself.

  “I thought you said you studied at Oxford University?”

  “I did but I left to do something else. I can't think what though.”

  “When did you leave Oxford to move to Essex?”

  “Three months ago.”

  “Why did you move?”

  “For money.”

  “That's honest,” I said with a smile.

  She hesitantly smiled back and I saw truth in her eyes, a truth I hadn't seen in a long time. I continued, “where in Essex?”

  “I'm not sure, I can't pinpoint it in my mind.”

  “What were you being paid to do?”

  “I'm not sure I was being paid as such but I remember going somewhere for money.”

  “You went for money but you weren't being paid?”

  “Yes and no. It was in return for services.”

  I thought about it but said it anyway, “sexual services?”

  She took a deep breath, “oh my god.” She closed her eyes and I saw her breathing quicken.

  I stopped in front of her, “you can do this. Whatever you did before now is in the past. You must never let any single decision define who you are as a person. You cannot let it define you. You are more than just a bad choice.”

  She smiled and nodded her thanks, “I was subsidising my student fees with occasional escort work. Oh shit.”

  I began circling her in the opposite direction, quickening my pace ever so slightly. She stood still as her memories came flooding back.

  I continued, “it's alright, focus on the answers and not the emotions associated with the answers. How long had you been escorting?”

  “For a year since I was eighteen.”

  “Were you invited to Essex by a client?”

  “Yes, he was nice to me and had a lot of money.”

  “Did you ever return to Oxford?”

  “I don't think so, I stayed with him for a while until... until he...”

  “What happened?”

  “He hurt me and did things to me... to my mind.”

  My ears pricked up even more as I passed in front of her, “what do you mean, mind?”

  “I was confused and he showed me what kind of life I deserved. He created something in my mind so that I was trapped by it and it got so bad I felt lost within myself. A special hour or something.”

  “Special hour? Do you mean an Immortal Hour?”

  “I'm not sure.”

  I thought to myself for a moment. What had Foster said about an Immortal Hour? That someone could be trapped in a singular moment in time? But he said it was a new psychiatric term that wasn't generally used. I stopped directly in front of her.

  “How long were you in my cellar for?”

  “A night and day maybe? Before he left me, I heard a faint voice talking to me but I couldn't hear everything he said.”

  “What did he whisper to you? What stands out?”

  “I heard a voice say something about a pond and then Linden hospital.”

  “I knew it,” I said out loud, when I should have kept it in my mind.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Everything's been pointing to it. Something is going on there and I'm gonna get to the bottom of this.”

  I relaxed and shook my hands to relieve the tension of the early morning. Only a few hours to go and I would be in the devil's chamber; Linden itself, and I wasn't going to leave without answers.

  “What did he do to me?” she said.

  “Do you remember what he looked like?”

  “His face is always blurred in my head but I remember his smell. He was at the hospital yesterday morning.”

  “What?” I didn't think I could be shocked further.

  “That's why I ran out, because he came to me and told me about the horrible things that would happen to me but I couldn't see his face. I can never see his face. He told me to follow my body and I got confused again. I argued with him and cried but he said he was always watching me and no one could help me. That's why I came to you because I believed you would help me.”

  “Follow your body?”

  She nodded and took a deep breath, “that's what he said.”

  My mind was suddenly in overdrive and it was too early to be processing all of it but time was against all of us.

  “Are you telling me the person who abducted you was in the hospital?”

  “That's right. He's messed up my mind.”

  “I've seen the security footage and there is no one there.”

  “He was there.”

  “It could have been off-screen but no one saw anyone else entering your ward.” I had to assume her version was the truth. “What did he talk to you about?”

  “He told me to follow my body. He was confusing me on purpose, it's how he does it. He was asking if anyone suspected anything.”

  “About me or you?”

  “Whether they were looking for anyone else in regards to your investigation.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “He walked out and I decided to make a run for it.”

  “Did he tell you anything else?”

  “He might have done, I'm not sure. My head hurts so much.”

  I asked again, “where were you born?”

  “Slovenia.”

  “What's your name?”

  “Stansey King.”

  I spun around and clenched my fists, “dammit.”

  “That is my name. What if I am actually her?”

  “Stansey King is dead, I'm sorry, but you're not her. Someone has done something to you to make you think you are her. I'm betting the same sick bastard who put you in my cellar, is the same person who has killed seventeen people in the Blood Streams. And we can't let him get to eighteen.”

  I pulled the curtains back and the morning light flooded the lounge. It was a welcome sight after the artificial light of the early morning. Nothing better than sunshine to awaken the mind.

  Something was bugging me still.

  “How did you get from his basement to mine?”

  “I have no memory of it. I was in his basement, then I was in a real smelly place then I just remember waking up down there,” she roughly pointed in the direction of my cellar.

  “So he was moving you around?”

  “Not until very recently.”

  “How was he moving you?”

  “I was in a metal box, it was cold and sticky, I don't remember exactly. I'm sorry if I haven't helped you enough.”

  “No, don't be sorry, you've done amazingly.” I sighed, “if you believe you're Stansey King then I'm gonna believe you too – until we know any different.”

  She jumped forward and hugged me, it took me completely by surprise.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “We're gonna get this bastard,” I promised.

  Just as I said that, my email notification buzzed.

  Thirty Six

  The police data of
fice had sent me through the background files on Doctor Foster. I finally had his first name, something many doctors refused to give away, mostly for security purposes.

  Doctor Clive Foster.

  Stansey was looking at me for direction. I had to believe she was telling the truth. Only because I couldn't work out a scenario where she would be lying and for what purpose.

  “You know how to make breakfast?” I asked her.

  “Seriously? I'm a student, we know how to make a king's feast for the price of a vodka and coke.”

  “Vodka and coke's expensive.”

  “Not if you know where to get cheap vodka.”

  “I'm trusting you, Stansey, you know that don't you?”

  “And I thank you for that. I can help. Just tell me what to do.”

  I nodded at her and smiled gently, “eggs and bread are in the fridge, a couple of egg sandwiches wouldn't go amiss. Is that cool?”

  “You keep your bread in the fridge?”

  “Lasts longer. Come and meet me on the top floor when you're ready.”

  It was only fifteen minutes later when I heard her traipse up the stairs. She had created the single best egg sandwich I'd had in years. She had boiled the eggs perfectly before slicing them thinly and laying them on a fresh slice of bread. She had covered them in raw spinach, a dash of Tabasco, and a toasted second slice of bread on top for an added crunch. She even brought with her a large pot of coffee and two cups.

  “Damn, these are good! How did you know?”

  “Just working with what I got.”

  She walked over to the piles of folders and books then glanced at the map on the wall. I watched her intently to see if I could pick up anything else from her.

  She pointed to the map with my circle of restriction, “what's this?”

  “That's because of you. I can't move anywhere beyond a five mile radius of this house. I'm no longer a suspect but the investigation is ongoing.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  “No, the person who did this to us is gonna be sorry.” I nodded at the other seat, “take a pew.”

  She sat next to me and looked at the screen I was working on.