by Tania Carver
‘Them or me, wasn’t it? Lose them or he’d kill me.’
Imani’s stomach turned over. ‘So – he gave you the choice. He would either kill you or kill them, is that it?’
‘Yeah.’ He looked away from her once more. ‘Said I had to pay.’ His voice small, saying more than he’d intended.
Imani let his hand drop.
‘What?’ he said. ‘I just did what everyone would do. You’d do the same, wouldn’t you?’
Imani was saved from answering by her phone. She answered. Phil urging her to get to the Malmaison as quickly as possible.
She stood up. ‘I’ve got to go, Darren.’
‘What?’ He looked suddenly sad, as if he’d just asked a girl out and been knocked back. ‘Where you goin’?’
‘Got work to do.’ She started to walk away from the bed.
‘What about me?’
She stopped, turned. ‘What d’you mean, what about you?’
‘I thought… aren’t you supposed to stay with me, or somethin’? Look after me?’
‘I think you’re more than capable of looking after yourself, Darren. You chose to live. Now choose to live with what you’ve done.’
She turned and left the hospital ward.
26
U
niforms had arrived at the Malmaison. Phil gave them orders.
‘He’s still in here. Got to be. Make this place watertight. He can’t just disappear into thin air. Go to it.’
They did.
He took Nadish off door duty and set him to work coordinating door-to-doors as well as interviews with anyone else in the hotel, trying to find out what they had seen, if anything.
His phone rang. His first thought was that it was Marina but on checking the display he saw that it was Sperring.
‘Come and look at this,’ he said.
Phil found his DS in a room on the ground floor, checking video footage.
‘What is it?’ asked Phil, entering the cramped, sweaty room.
‘This, boss,’ said Sperring. He sat forward, pointed at the screen.
The man sitting with Sperring paused the footage, rolled it back. Sperring told him to press play.
‘Here’s our couple,’ said Sperring. ‘Coming down the hall.’ The screen showed the man and woman from the room arm in arm. The man kept trying to fondle and manhandle the woman. The woman was smiling, but even on grainy CCTV Phil could tell that she wasn’t enjoying it and only tolerating it. ‘Getting a bit amorous here,’ said Sperring.
‘Well, one of them is,’ said Phil.
‘And here they are, going into the room.’
The screen showed the door closing, the man with his hand gripping the woman’s behind.
‘What now?’ asked Phil.
‘Keep watching,’ said Sperring.
He did. Another figure approached the door. Phil’s stomach turned over. He knew instinctively who it was. He scrutinised the screen, trying to take in everything about the figure, every detail.
He saw someone wearing what looked like overalls or work clothes and boots with a hoody over the top. Phil felt a thrill run through his body.
‘Turn round… turn round…’
The figure, as if listening to Phil, did so. And Phil’s elation dropped. The figure was wearing a gas mask.
‘Shit,’ said Phil.
As they watched, the masked figure looked up at the camera, gave an elaborate salute.
‘Fucker. He knew we’d be watching.’ Sperring could barely contain his anger and frustration.
The figure hefted his bag onto his shoulder, knocked on the door. The door was opened. In the figure went.
‘Fast forward,’ said Phil. ‘He must come out.’
‘He does,’ said Sperring.
The other man fast-forwarded the footage until they watched the same figure step from the room, walk down the hall and away.
Phil sat back. Then, thinking of something, leaned forward again. ‘Stop. Go back,’ he said. ‘To where he comes out.’
The man obliged. They watched the masked figure leave the room once more.
‘Stop,’ said Phil. He put his reading glasses on, screwed his eyes up tight. ‘Is this the best you can get with the screen?’
The other man said it was.
‘Look,’ said Phil, pointing. ‘There. His feet.’
‘What about them?’ asked Sperring.
‘Different shoes. Or boots. The carpet in that room was thick with blood. He would leave a bloody trail if he just walked out wearing the same boots. He must have taken them off and replaced them. In the room.’
‘You think they’ll still be there?’
‘I doubt it, but it’s worth a look. If not, he’ll have them in that bag of his. Should make him easier to find, even if he’s got out of his gear. Or maybe he’s left some DNA behind. Something. Anything.’
‘In a hotel room?’ said Sperring. ‘No shortage of that.’
‘We have to try.’ Phil sighed. ‘Do we know what their names are, this couple?’
‘Booked in as John Wright,’ said Sperring. ‘Don’t know if that’s his real name or not. No idea about the woman.’
‘The hotel should be able to tell us. He’d have booked with a credit card.’
Phil took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes. Before he could speak again, his phone rang. He took it from his pocket, again expecting Marina, and checked the display. The station. He answered.
‘Sorry to disturb you,’ said Elli, ‘but I thought you’d want to take this. It’s him.’
Phil’s stomach flipped again. ‘Put him on.’
He put his hand over the mouthpiece, mouthed the words ‘It’s him’ to Sperring, then heard several clicks as the call was transferred.
‘Hello, Phil,’ said the same muffled voice. ‘You don’t mind if I call you Phil, do you? I mean, as we’re going to be working together it’s only fair that we should call each other by our names, don’t you think?’
‘So what do I call you, then?’
‘I told you. The Lawgiver.’
‘Right. The Lawgiver. And… and what makes you think we’ll be working together?’
‘Well, I’m sure you’ve seen my latest judgement by now. John Wright. Banker. Caught with his hands in the till.’ A laugh. ‘Can’t do that any more, can he?’
Phil was lost for words. He didn’t know how to proceed. Whether to humour the caller or go up against him. He tried to keep calm, keep asking questions. Remember his training.
‘I presume you’re still in the hotel.’
‘You presume wrong.’
‘Why don’t you show yourself, eh? Come and talk and we can get this all sorted out now before it goes any further.’
Another laugh. ‘Does anyone ever do that, d’you think? Someone, like your good self, says that and the other person thinks, “Why yes. I’m going to stop what I was doing and hand myself in. Just for a chat, of course. That’s all it’ll be.”’ The voice hardened. ‘Don’t treat me like an idiot. You’ve seen what I’m capable of. You know what I’m doing. Why I’m doing it. I’m not going to stop. And you’d better be prepared to help me. Or you won’t like the consequences.’
‘What should —’
‘Shut up. Just shut up. Listen. You’re going on TV. You’re going to tell everyone watching what I’ve done and why. And you’re going to take me seriously.’
‘And if I don’t?’
‘You really want to find out? Really? You’re on the right side at the moment. The same side as me. But go up against me and you’ll become my enemy. And you’ve seen what I do to my enemies.’
The phone went dead.
Phil just stared at it.
PART THREE:
SCREAMING FOR VENGEANCE
27
M
arina hadn’t been able to sleep the previous night. At first she thought it was because she was spending her second night in an unfamiliar bed away from home but that hadn’t been it. She had missed Phil.
She always did. His presence was a comfort, his six-foot frame reassuring for her to reach to, to touch while she slept. But it wasn’t the absence of her husband. It was her dreams.
When she had closed her eyes, slipped away, Fiona Welch had been there. Sitting in her room, looking at Marina, smiling. Just as she had been the previous afternoon. Her thoughts dancing behind eyes that held secrets. Terrible, dark secrets. In her dream, Fiona’s hair had been different. Darker, curlier. More like her own. And her clothes had been different, too. Less like she had been wearing, more like Marina’s own. She didn’t say anything in the dream, or nothing that Marina could remember. But she had communicated something. Almost telepathically. Something about Phil wanting a younger woman. About Marina being too old for him, about how she, Fiona, was the one he wanted.
She had woken after that, unable to get back to sleep for ages.
That was when she phoned Phil. Marina felt a pang of guilt at waking him but it was important to speak to him. Having Phil in her life made her able to confront the day-to-day darkness she dealt with. And she knew she was the same to him. It was more than just a marriage. They had both looked into the abyss and had the abyss look into them. It was their mutual love that held the other back from stepping over the edge.
His voice was sleep-bleared when he answered. ‘Hello…’
‘Hey,’ she said. ‘Sorry about the time.’
She heard a shuffling from the other end of the phone as he checked what the time was. ‘’S okay.’ She heard him rouse himself, sit up. ‘Where are you?’
‘On the way to Finnister. Something came up.’
‘Yeah. I got your voicemail last night. Sorry, I was too tired to reply.’
Marina had phoned Phil to tell him she was staying over at Anni’s, contrary to what she had told him earlier. She knew that Eileen, Phil’s mother, would be looking after their daughter Josephina so that was one less thing to worry about.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I thought you’d be asleep. I just wanted to let you know what was happening. What you up to?’
‘Was just about to get up. Had a late night. There’s a… oh, you don’t need to know.’
‘Can I help?’ She had desperately wanted to talk to him about her situation but knew his would be just as important too.
‘Maybe later. Someone got away from us last night. I’ve got to get back on that horse. Catch him.’
‘You will.’
‘Wish I had your confidence.’ Silence on the line. ‘What’s up?’
‘Well…’ Now that she was speaking to him it seemed slightly ridiculous to be bothering him. Then she thought of her dream, the last words of the woman calling herself Fiona Welch. Continued. ‘There’s a bit of a situation developed here. You know how Anni and Mickey called me in to give a psychiatric assessment of this patient?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Well, it’s more complicated than that.’ She paused, took a deep breath. ‘There’s a woman here who thinks she’s Fiona Welch.’
Phil was suddenly wide awake. ‘What? Fiona Welch? You sure?’
‘I mean, it’s not her. Definitely not her.’
‘Not unless she’s come back from the dead. I saw her die. Watched her fall to her death.’
‘I know. But she’s… spooky. Uncanny. No one knows where she’s from, who she really is. They’ve looked into her background, found nothing. All they know is that she’s persuaded two young men to kill their girlfriends.’
‘Jesus.’
Marina stopped talking. Phil sensed there was something more. ‘And?’
Another deep breath. ‘And the dead women all looked like me, apparently.’
‘I…’ Phil was lost for words.
‘I know. And she claimed to know you as well.’
‘Impossible.’
‘Yes, I know. And it all sounds so ridiculous when I say it out loud. But then I think about it, about her, and it’s not. She gave me the creeps. Seriously.’
‘Is that your professional opinion?’
‘It’s the only opinion I could have. And she said something else. To tell you one word. Justice.’
Silence on the line once more. The electronic static turned to ice.
‘Phil?’
‘Yeah, I’m here. Justice? That’s all?’
‘That’s all.’ Marina sighed. ‘Phil…’
‘What?’
‘Am I too old for you?’
‘What?’
‘Do you want a younger woman?’
‘What’s – where’s this come from?’ He tried to laugh off her words.
‘Fiona Welch. Sorry, the woman calling herself Fiona Welch. See how easy it is to believe it? She said it. Said you were… that I was too old for you.’
‘Bullshit. She’s just trying to mess with your head, whoever she is. Don’t let her.’
Marina felt relieved. She knew it was a stupid thing to say, but the woman’s words had upset, unnerved her. ‘Thank you.’
‘You don’t need to thank me. You just need to find out who this woman is.’
‘We’re working on it. But there’s also been a suicide last night. The woman Anni wanted me to profile. That’s why I’m still here.’
‘Oh, Jesus – doesn’t rain but it pours.’
‘Tell me about it. I’ll get this sorted then come home.’
‘Good. Look, don’t worry about the Fiona Welch impersonator. She’s stuck in Finnister. She can’t do any more damage now.’
‘I know.’
‘But?’
‘Yes there was a but. But she makes me feel… I don’t know.’
‘Don’t worry about her. Mickey and Anni’ll deal with her. They’ll find out who she is.’
‘I know.’
‘Just come home soon. I miss you.’
Marina smiled, felt Phil smiling in return. ‘Miss you too.’
‘I’ll see you later.’
They made their goodbyes and hung up.
Marina was glad she had phoned Phil. She felt better just talking to him. More secure. And yes, the woman who called herself Fiona Welch unnerved her. Scared her, if she was honest. But she had the strength to cope with her.
Or at least she now hoped she did.
She got ready, left for Finnister.
28
M
orning had arrived but the sky hadn’t got the memo. Dark, storm-rich clouds hung heavy over the East Anglian countryside, hastening day to premature evening, sucking whatever joy could usually be found from the hours, leaving depression in their stead. Imminent bursts threatening to turn the day to monochrome static.
Marina drove back towards Finnister House, not wanting to be stuck in the impending downpour, hoping the clouds wouldn’t break until she got there. As she approached, it no longer seemed to be the place it had been the day before, a state-of-the-art secure hospital. It was now a brooding, Gothic pile, a bleak house with more than one madwoman in more than one attic.
Marina had been excused from her university work for a few days. They didn’t mind as a rule – the department regarding it as quite prestigious that a member of their staff should be so in demand for consultancy work. A vindication that they had chosen the right person to teach the course.
She parked the Prius. Already the car park was host to police cars and tactical support units. She hurried to the entrance. Anni and Mickey were already there. She had followed them from Colchester. As soon as they saw her approach, they surreptitiously dropped their held hands. Back on duty.
Anni and Mickey were now officially an item. The short, mouthy black girl with the blonde spiky hair and the shaven-headed burly bloke with the warm, intelligent eyes. They had spent a long time dancing around each other, hesitantly trying to get together, each one waiting for the other to make the first move. They were worried it would jeopardise both their working relationship and their friendship but once the relationship had happened their friendship had only gone from strength to strength. They were also stronger collea
gues as a result. Relationships between those working on the same team were still officially frowned upon but Mickey and Anni had successfully managed to compartmentalise their official and private lives to the extent that their work was never compromised, so a blind eye had been turned.
Marina couldn’t have been happier for them; they were two of her dearest friends and favourite colleagues. But for now they all had work to do.
Anni turned to her as she joined them. ‘Good job you changed your mind and stayed over.’
‘Like I must have known,’ said Marina.
‘Spooky,’ added Mickey. ‘Like working with Derek Acorah.’
Marina looked up at the sky. The air had turned colder, sharper, rain now a loud, angry threat.
‘Let’s get inside,’ she said.
Once they had passed through security they found a woman waiting to greet them. Small, dark hair tied back into a neat ponytail, clothes functional yet stylish. Her expression said that she was a capable woman doing a difficult and demanding job to the best of her abilities. But that today was severely testing her.
‘Carol Blakemore,’ she said, extending her hand and shaking each of theirs in turn. ‘Director of Clinical Care. We didn’t have a chance to talk yesterday.’
Marina introduced herself. ‘I’m here in an advisory capacity only,’ she said. ‘I won’t be part of the investigation.’
‘At the moment,’ said Anni, glancing at Marina, then back to Carol Blakemore. ‘Are the local force here?’
‘They are,’ said Carol. ‘Been here since first thing this morning. They’re handling things well and in these instances it’s their jurisdiction but obviously since you were here yesterday we thought you’d want to be informed.’
Anni nodded.
‘Can you tell us what happened?’ said Mickey.
Carol Blakemore puffed out her cheeks, expelled air as if she was slightly tired of repeating the same words.
‘Please,’ said Anni, ‘I know it’s difficult, but we’ve not heard it before. Just try to tell us as if it’s the first time you’ve said it.’
Carol looked slightly shamefaced. ‘Well, as I told the other officers, we unlocked Joanne’s room this morning and found…’ She paused, reliving the experience. ‘We found her on the floor. Her wrists… blood everywhere.’