“Familiarity also breeds contempt,” he said. “And it’s my professional opinion that your mother’s familiarity with her surroundings is causing her to act out. Perhaps in an environment where she didn’t feel so in-control, it might cause her to reset, mentally.”
“You’re talking absolute rubbish,” Harriet said pushing up onto her feet. Forgetting her foot, she placed her weight on the injured leg and a jab of shooting pain ripped up through her calf causing her to gasp aloud.
She crumpled forward and grabbed the counter for support, tears momentarily blinding her.
Jonathan was there in an instant.
“Here, let me help,” he said as she tried to swat him away.
“I’m fine,” she said, through gritted teeth.
He didn’t let her go, his hands, holding her tight as she straightened up with the support of the counter to balance her weight.
“Let me take you inside,” he said, his hand sliding down to grasp her waist.
Harriet shrugged him off and took a hobbling step toward the living room. “I said, I’m fine,” she said pleased to discover the hitch in her voice had disappeared.
He followed her into the living room and Harriet scooped up the papers and files she’d left strewn over the couch before he had the chance to examine them.
“Are those the case files?”
She nodded but bit down on her tongue to keep from snapping at him.
He set her wine glass down on the coffee table before he joined her on the couch. He folded his lean legs up beneath his body, angling his torso so that he faced her. He wore a sympathetic expression and Harriet remembered it only too well from the early years when she’d been a teen visiting her mother. She’d hated it then and she hated it now.
“Harriet, I think you’re allowing your emotions to cloud your judgement.”
“Don’t patronise me.”
He looked at her, shock filling his eyes. “I never would.”
Harriet leaned over and picked up the glass. Her hands shook and she fought to control her temper. Was it the pain that was affecting her judgement or because Jonathan seemed to be needling her? It was probably a combination and Harriet was too tired to try and analyse it too closely.
“If you can’t see how this might benefit her then you’re not the psychologist I thought you were.” His words were a slap in the face and Harriet sucked a sharp breath in through her teeth. “I’m your mother’s doctor first and foremost, everything I say is for her benefit.”
“And how does this benefit her if it triggers another break?”
He leaned forward earnestly. “I don’t think it will.”
“But you can’t say with any certainty that it won’t.”
“Well, no but—"
“So why take that risk?”
“Because if I don’t, I think she’s going to kill someone.”
“Someone else you mean,” Harriet said softly as she turned her head away and took another mouthful of the wine. It seemed the more of it she drank, the less it tasted of bitter vinegar. When she’d been a student, she’d found the same to be true then too.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you like this,” he said with a deep sigh. He leaned back on the sofa and gave her a rueful smile. “I screwed all this up, didn’t I?”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, you know,” he said, the meaning in his words unmistakable.
“I never led you to believe that this would amount to anything,” Harriet said.
He shot her a disappointed smile. “I know you didn’t, but you can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“I’m not interested, Jonathan, not like that.”
He nodded. “I understand.”
Harriet shook her head and dropped her gaze to the glass in her hands. “This won’t affect your ability to care for my mother, will it?”
“How could you think that of me?” He forced as much hurt into those few words that Harriet felt instantly guilty. How was he so good at always turning the tables on her? It wasn’t the first time he’d done it and it always seemed to catch her off guard when it happened.
“No. My care for my patients always come before any personal attachments I might have,” he said softly.
“Good.”
“Harriet,” he said, leaning forward.
She glanced up at him and was surprised to find him so close. Before she could move, his lips found hers. It was nothing like she’d imagined it might be. His lips were cold and wet and they slid against her mouth as his hand pressed into her hair.
With her free hand, she planted it against his chest and pushed, hard. Instead of releasing her, Jonathan tightened his grip on her hair and Harriet cried out in pain.
It was all he needed and he thrust his tongue into her mouth with enough force to make her gag.
He moved closer, his weight pressing into her and Harriet reacted. Clutching the wine glass, she tipped it over his crotch.
“Christ,” he said jerking away from her to stare down in disgust at the bright red stain spreading across the front of his beige chinos.
Harriet scrubbed her hand over her mouth in an attempt to rid herself of the taste of him.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Harriet spat the words out as she shifted backwards on the couch to put as much distance between them as was humanly possible.
“What am I doing? Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that question? Look at what you’ve done to me?”
Harriet glanced down at the spreading red stain on his trousers and felt a flicker of satisfaction light insider her chest.
“I told you I wasn’t interested and you said you understood. I thought I was pretty clear on this?”
He shook his head and stared at her with incredulity. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?” Jonathan snorted in derision as he climbed to his feet. “You women are all the bloody same. You smile and flick your hair while batting your lashes at us poor bastards and we’re supposed to just ignore it all like you’re not flirting your bloody arses off.”
“I wasn’t flirting with you,” Harriet said, fighting to keep her temper in check. “In fact, if you think what I was doing with you could be even slightly construed as flirting then I pity any woman you’ve ever had any contact with.”
“You’re just a frigid bitch,” he spat, temper getting the better of him as he dabbed at his trousers with a white handkerchief.
“Sticks and stones, Jonathan,” Harriet said before she sighed. “And you call yourself a psychologist, yet you can’t read when a woman isn’t interested in you. How does that work?”
“I was going to talk to the board about getting you into the hospital when your mother was moved out but I won’t bother now. In fact, you’ll be lucky if you ever work clinically again when I’m done with you.”
“So that’s what all this was about?” Harriet stared up at him in shock. How could she have been so naive and stupid? He’d spent years trying to talk her into working at the hospital but there had always been the barrier of her mother being an in-patient.
But if he succeeded in shipping her mother off somewhere else then there wouldn’t be anything stopping her from taking up a position in the hospital; he was obviously more calculating than she’d given him credit for.
Had he been counting on her feeling beholden to him for his help as a way to get her into bed?
It seemed too far-fetched, yet as she stared up at him, she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was the truth.
“You’d risk the welfare of your own patient, for what?”
“Don’t you come the high and mighty with me, you arrogant bitch,” he said, leaning down toward her. “I wasn’t the one who let a patient get the jump on me and causing the death of another member of staff.”
“That’s unfair and you know it,” Harriet said. His words cut her to the quick and she hated the wobble it caused in her voice. “Mr Joyce wasn’t my patient.”
“No,” Jonatha
n said. “He wasn’t and you shouldn’t have been in that room with him. But it doesn’t alter the fact that you screwed up. There’s blood on your hands, Harriet, so don’t sit there and pretend you’re better than me when you’re really not.”
He strode from the room and she listened as he gathered his things from the kitchen. It wasn’t until the front door slammed that she released the breath she’d been holding onto.
He was an arrogant asshole but he was right about one thing. She did have blood on her hands. If she hadn’t been so arrogant and let her desire to be the best get in the way, then Joyce’s nurse would still be alive. It was her fault, and nothing would change that.
Reaching over to the table, Harriet grabbed the bottle of wine and emptied the rest of it into her glass before she took a mouthful. How was she supposed to help the police when she hadn’t even been able to help those who relied on her?
She stared into the glass and not for the first time wondered if perhaps the answer could be found at the bottom of it after all.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
With Tilly tucked up in bed, Bianca made her way downstairs to the quiet living room. Pulling her laptop from the table and onto her lap, she settled back against the cushions and stared at the Skype request.
Ryder1980 wants to add you.
At least this way if she did add him and they spoke over video chat there could be no confusion come Saturday. He was either who he said he was or...
She clicked accept request and waited. It took only a moment for the screen to light up and the sound of a ringing phone filled the room.
Tugging a pair of headphones from her handbag she connected the call and stared at the blank black screen.
"Hello?" She felt stupid talking to a blank screen but it was either that or just hang up.
The screen lightened and she found herself staring at the same man from the dating site. The image was grainy but he at least looked as she'd imagined.
"Hey, babe!" He grinned and the image froze with his hand halfway to his face.
"Ryder, the picture is really bad. Is it your end or mine?"
"Sorry," he said, the picture failing entirely. "I've got hotel wi-fi and I don't think it's very good." His voice at least came through crystal clear and Bianca felt the knot of tension she'd carried with her all day slowly unravel.
"I got to see you for a minute," she said with a smile.
"I can still see you," he said. "And my god but you are a cool drink on a hot day."
Bianca cringed at the cheesy compliment and covered the screen with her hand.
"Hey!" Ryder said.
"You can't say stuff like that," she said.
"Why not?"
"It's cringey, that's why." Bianca pulled her hand away and grinned.
"Your hair is shorter than the picture you put up," he said. "
"Yeah, I got it cut since then." Bianca pulled the end of her hair and stared down at the red locks. "I needed a change."
"Yeah, I get that." There was a sound on the other end of the line as though Ryder had changed position.
"Are you in bed?"
His masculine chuckle slid down the line into Bianca's ear. She curled her toes against the carpet and felt the butterflies in her stomach erupt.
"Why would you like it if I was?"
"Seems a little early is all," she said aiming for nonchalant and managed only to sound ridiculous instead.
He laughed again. "I've got an early one in the morning," he said.
"Another shareholder meeting?"
"Yeah. God save me from those bloody shareholders." He sighed. "Anyway, enough about that. What were you saying earlier about being nervous?"
Bianca sighed and slid down on the couch, it was weird talking to a blank screen but Ryder's familiar voice in her ear was soothing.
"I don't know," she said. "It's probably just my own weird neuroses."
"No go on, you can tell me."
"I feel like I'm being unfaithful," she said. "You know to Tom.”
Silence greeted her on the other end of the line and Bianca's heart sank. Clearly, this was a step too far for Ryder. Not that she could blame him, it wasn't his place to take on someone as screwed up as she was.
"Do you think he'd want you to think like that?"
"What?"
“Tom, do you think he'd want you to look at it like that?"
"Well no," she said. "But it's how I feel."
Ryder sighed. "You know, if it's too much for you, we don't have to meet on Saturday. If you're not ready, I understand.”
"That's not what I'm saying," she said and closed her eyes. "Or am I? I don't know anymore."
"Well, let's start with what you do know," he said softly. "I don't want you think there's any pressure on my end."
"You see, when you say stuff like that you make me feel bad," she said as she started to laugh.
"Why?"
"Because it proves you're one of the good guys."
He chuckled and Bianca fought the urge to squirm.
"You don't need to worry about that," he said. "I'm definitely not a good guy."
Bianca rolled her eyes dramatically. Well, you could have fooled me.
"Mommy!" Tilly's voice cut the air and Bianca jumped.
"I've got to go," she said, ending the call without waiting for Ryder to say anything.
Her heart thudded violently in her chest as she took the stairs two at a time, reaching the landing in record time.
Tilly stood in the doorway, her Dora the Explorer pyjamas askew and her dark hair standing on end.
"What's it, baby?" Bianca said, crossing the floor to her daughter.
"I can't find, Gruff," Tilly said, scrubbing her hands over her eyes.
"What do you mean, I thought he was on the bed with you?"
"That's what I thought too," Tilly said, her voice hitched as the first of her tears began to fall. "But I can't find him."
"Well, was he in the bed with you when I read you your story?"
Tilly shook her head and stared up helplessly at her mother. "I don't know. I don't remember."
Bianca sighed as her phone downstairs began to ring. "Well he's got to be in here somewhere," she said, taking her daughter by the shoulders and turning her around to march her back into the room.
"You didn't move him, did you mommy?"
Bianca ran back over the events of the morning. She'd made Tilly's bed and Gruff had been where her daughter had left him that morning, hadn't he? She could have sworn that he was definitely on the end of the bed but that was the problem with doing the same things every day; each task had the uncanny ability of bleeding into one another and this was no exception.
"No, I'm sure he was on the bed when I made it," she said, flicking on the overhead light.
"You didn't put him into wash?" There was no denying the hopeful note in her daughter's voice.
"No," Bianca said. "But you hop into bed and I'll have a look for him."
It took only a couple of minutes for Bianca to realise her daughter's most prized possession wasn't anywhere to be found in the room.
"Can you check the washing machine?" Tilly asked. "Just in case..." Tilly was on the verge of tears and Bianca found it impossible to deny her daughter that request.
"You stay here, I'll be back in a minute."
Hurrying down the stairs, Bianca passed the couch and caught sight of Ryder's messages of concern that lit up the screen. He could wait.
Heading into the kitchen, she tugged open the washing machine and stared into the empty drum. Not that she actually expected to find anything inside anyway. That was definitely something she'd remember. Grabbing Tilly's school bag from the table, she unzipped the pink bag and peered at its contents. Nothing.
With a frustrated sigh, Bianca set the bag back on the table This was the last thing she needed.
Moving back to the stairs, Bianca grabbed her phone and took it upstairs with her.
"Did you find him?"
&
nbsp; Bianca shook her head. "Sorry, kiddo, there's no sign of him."
Tilly's face crumpled. "Where is he?"
"You didn't take him to school, today did you?" Tilly knew the drill, Gruff wasn't supposed to leave the house. After the incident involving a train journey the summer before an appeal online had seen the little brown bear returned in one piece, luckily. From that moment on, the rule had become Gruff didn't leave the bedroom except for special occasions but that rule hadn't stopped Tilly from trying to take him to school on more than one occasion.
"No," Tilly said, crossing her heart. "I wouldn't."
Bianca dropped down on the pink coverlet next to her daughter. "I don't know," she said. "He's bound to turn up. He's just waiting somewhere for us to find him and we will."
"Promise?"
"I promise," Bianca said, snuggling in next to her daughter. "Now, come on, you need to get some sleep or come the morning you won't want to get up."
Tilly nodded and slid down in the bed. Her eyes were still watery and as Bianca stared down at her small serious daughter a tear slipped from the corner of her eye and slid down onto the pillow.
"I just hope he's all right," Tilly said. "I don't want him to be scared."
"He's a big bear," Bianca said. "And big bears don't get scared. Remember, you tell him to look after me every day before school, so he's not scared of anything."
Tilly nodded. "That's true. He's a protector bear."
Bianca smoothed down her daughter's hair and nodded. "Yes, he is. Now get some sleep."
"Will you stay here?" Tilly's voice was already thick with oncoming sleep.
"Of course I will."
Tilly snuggled down into her mother's arms and within a few minutes had drifted off. Bianca lay there next to her and ran back over the day’s events. As far as she was concerned, Gruff had been on the bed when she'd made it, the only trouble was she couldn't swear to it. But if she was right and he'd been on the bed before she left the house, then where was he now?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Drew scrubbed his hands over his eyes and listened to Maz repeat the question for what felt like the millionth time.
“Let me get this straight, Nigel. You expect us to believe that you never had a thing for your stepdaughter?”
The Hanging Time Page 18