Dark Lies

by Nick Hollin

  ‘Did you know?’ asks Mark, standing far too close. His face is flushed and his hands are balled into fists, but there’s control there, too, his voice lowered to a whisper. ‘Because he knew. That’s how he was able to make that promise. That’s how I was able to believe him. That’s why he wanted the cuffs. It’s why he let me…’ He runs his fingers across the back of his other hand where a large bruise has formed on his knuckles.

  ‘Who told you?’ she asks, knowing he might have seen it on the television, with speculation bound to be growing, but also sensing she’s been betrayed.

  ‘What does it matter?’

  ‘I just wondered,’ she says, carefully. ‘Because I’d wanted to tell you myself, face-to-face, so we could talk through the possibilities.’

  ‘What possibilities?’

  ‘We are working on a number of theories,’ Katie says, maintaining her calm this time as she gestures towards a small book-lined room to their left. ‘I also understand your doubts about Nathan, but if you’d seen how this development has affected him you’d know—’

  ‘Guilt,’ snaps Mark, rubbing his hand again. ‘That’s all it is. Guilt at the secret he kept. You’re just blind to it.’

  ‘Not blind at all,’ she says, holding his stare, before moving into the small room and hoping he’ll follow. When he has, and she’s convinced him to take a seat on a neat, blanket-covered chair in the corner, she perches herself on the edge of the desk upon which sits a computer that ought to be in a museum.

  ‘I need to know about the doll,’ she says, at the same time scanning the spines on the bookcase for the name J.M. Priest. She’s not surprised to find she is not there.

  ‘What about it?’ asks Mark. His feet are jumping around, mirroring the movement of his hands.

  ‘Why did you come and get it?’

  ‘Because…’ He lifts a hand to his hair. It’s thinning on top and in need of a wash. All of him is: she can smell that from where she’s sitting. Not that she’s any better. ‘Because my daughter Ellie insisted. She got incredibly upset.’ He looks down, pulling at that hair. ‘Of course she did. She’s only four but she’s not stupid. She knows what happened.’

  Katie’s attention is drawn again to something she’d heard when she first stepped into the house, something she’d not quite believed. Now there can be no doubt. It’s the sound of a child laughing.

  ‘Is that her I can hear?’ asks Katie.

  ‘Yeah,’ says Mark. ‘It must be the shock, but they’re both like that. They have seemed okay ever since I returned the doll, or since I stopped at a shop and bought Ellie one that didn’t…’ He holds his hand up in front of his face, as if considering the doll’s decapitation. ‘I suppose I could have stitched it back on, but I could never do that sort of thing, that was always…’ He looks to his left, and following his gaze Katie spots a series of small photo frames on a shelf in the corner filled with pictures of the family. They’re far smaller and cleaner than the ones she’d seen at Nathan’s home, but even with the curtains pulled and the light low Katie can make out all the fingerprints on the glass.

  ‘So he’s been in my house again,’ says Mark. ‘Is that what that doll proves?’

  ‘Yes,’ says Katie, not yet ready to share what else it proves. ‘Does your daughter believe it’s the same one?’

  ‘I think so. It wasn’t that old anyway. And to be honest, it wasn’t that precious to her before, which is why she’d left it behind when I brought the two of them here.’

  ‘Can I speak to Ellie?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It might be important.’

  ‘You’re not going to upset her, are you? I mean, it might be shock but I prefer to hear them laughing.’

  It doesn’t matter, because a young girl has appeared at the entrance to the study clutching a floppy doll to her chest, the head still intact. Behind her is a man who must be in his seventies looking as worn down as the son he resembles so closely.

  ‘Everything okay?’ says the older Mr Brooks, with an expression that makes it clear nothing will ever be okay again. ‘I’m sorry about…’ He nods towards the girl in front of him. ‘I tried to stop her, but you know what she’s like.’

  ‘You can leave her with us, Dad,’ says Mark, opening his arms for the young girl to run into.

  ‘Hello,’ says Katie, matching the smile now spread across the girl’s face. ‘Are you Ellie?’

  The girl nods, a blonde ponytail bouncing at the back of her neck.

  ‘And what is your doll called?’

  The girl looks down, twisting her head as if confused by the question. ‘I don’t…’

  ‘That’s okay. It’s obvious she’s very important to you, though.’

  Again the girl nods, this time even more enthusiastically.

  ‘Can you tell me why?’ It seems a strange thing to ask a child, to wonder why they might like one toy more than another, but Katie’s fear is starting to grow.

  ‘It’s a secret,’ she says, looking down at her feet.

  ‘I love secrets,’ says Katie, trying to avoid Mark’s glare over his daughter’s shoulder. ‘I also love sharing them with people I trust.’

  The young girl looks back at her dad, asking the question without saying a word. He nods, to let her know that Katie can indeed be trusted, even though his eyes are saying something very different.

  ‘Will it still happen, though?’ asks Ellie, squeezing the doll. ‘I mean, do you promise?’

  Katie sees Mark’s mouth open, sees his desperation to find out where this is heading, to make that promise. But Katie knows how this works, knows the grudge that even a young child can carry for years if a promise so important is not kept, so she cuts him off. Ellie runs out of the room and is back with them minutes later. In one hand is the doll, in the other something so small she’s managed to hide it.

  ‘You are special,’ she says, looking at Katie with the sort of absolute trust and admiration that only a child could offer so quickly. ‘You are the one that will make it happen.’ And then, with an even broader smile, Ellie opens her hand.

  The paper is folded over and over, but there’s no mistaking the presence of both horizontal and vertical lines. Katie reaches out for it, then stops. She’d been so wrapped up in the horror of it all that for once she had forgotten the process. At the same time she knows that putting on the gloves might upset Ellie, might even make her snatch it back. And it’s already been handled by the child. Nevertheless, she will stick to the rules.

  ‘I don’t want to damage something so precious,’ she says, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a pair of blue latex gloves. Instead of worrying her, seeing them seems to excite Ellie even more. As, it seems, does the sight of Katie’s whole arm shaking as she takes the paper off her and carefully opens it up.

  HA HA, YOUR MUM IS DEAD

  Mark is standing by Katie’s shoulder, his breathing short, his eyes wide.

  ‘What is this?’ he spits.

  ‘What do you think it is?’ asks Katie, crouching down to Ellie’s level.

  ‘It’s what he told me.’

  ‘Who told you?’

  ‘The wizard in the garden. He pushed the paper through a hole in the fence. He said it was a magic piece of paper and that whatever was written on it would come true.’ Ellie looks a little embarrassed at her next confession. ‘I can’t read yet, so he told me what it said. It said I needed to get this back.’ She holds up the doll triumphantly. ‘If I did, and if I keep our secret, then Mummy will come back too.’

  Mark pushes past Katie, knocking her onto her knees, and takes his daughter in his arms. He’s sobbing uncontrollably, and Ellie looks up at Katie, the first sign of worry on her face.

  ‘Are you not here to help bring her back? Did I do something wrong? Was it because I told my sister Ava about the wizard?’

  ‘You’ve done nothing wrong,’ says Katie, her own voice breaking, unable to find the strength to rise. She knows it won’t be long before this little girl
learns the truth – the same truth she had learned at a very young age. There is no magic in this world.

  Finally standing, she wants to leave, to walk away and never come back, but there’s work still to be done. She places a hand on Mark’s back, and he turns to her with a look that’s a mix of hatred and desperation.

  ‘Why?’ he says. ‘Why would he do this?’

  The answer had been there from the moment she’d discovered the significance of the doll to a killer who delights in drawing out pain. She had known that in pursuing the link she would somehow be a part of inflicting that pain and yet, as always, she couldn’t stop herself. The truth would come at any cost.

  ‘I will need to get a team here,’ she says softly, and Mark’s eyes close in resignation. This had been a place of escape, somewhere to hide from the hideous events. And yet now it will be trampled all over in the search for clues that she knows will not be there, not unless the killer has left them intentionally. It’s all part of the game: it’s a game that she knows, as she looks at Mark, then at his dad, who has appeared in the doorway with an even smaller girl alongside, she is losing.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, and Katie is walking back to her car. She glances at where the suspected journalist had been. He or she has been moved on by one of the team that has arrived. She hears the sound of a car window being lowered and looks down at a black saloon that’s pulled up next to her. Dr Miles Parker is staring up at her with a twisted grin.

  ‘What’s your partner got caught up in now? Always had my suspicions about him. Surprised you didn’t. But then I guess it’s true what they say about love being blind.’

  Katie bends over and leans heavily on the sill.

  ‘You told Mark Brooks about Nathan’s brother.’

  ‘I merely kept him informed of developments. In the same way you ought to have.’

  She should have seen this coming. She should have heeded DS Peters’ warnings. She had created an enemy. Or rather she had followed her instinct from the first time they’d met, looking into the doctor’s eyes and seeing the sort of person he was.

  ‘You undermine my investigation again and I will ruin you.’

  ‘Don’t think you carry that weight anymore,’ Miles says with a sneer. ‘Rumour has it you’re on the way out. Not even Daddy’s reputation can save you this time.’

  ‘That’s right,’ she says. ‘The bosses think I’m losing it, that I’m reckless and dangerous.’ She leans in closer, so close she has to fight the urge to use her forehead to spread his nose across his face. ‘What do you think?’

  He leans back, face paling. ‘I think you’re as crazy as your boyfriend.’

  ‘Quite possibly,’ she says, noisily dragging her nails across the door trim. ‘And imagine the damage the two of us could do.’

  * * *

  Back at her own car, she finds the PC has kept watch the entire time, and she thanks him with a nod. He doesn’t say a word, looking relieved to be able to move away. Falling into the driver’s seat and starting up the Rover’s engine, she searches for something to say to the man slumped against the passenger door, wishing he could tell her what to do next, wishing he could be her partner again.

  And, as if he’s sensed her need, he struggles to push himself up and to find his focus.

  ‘I don’t know what happened with the family in there,’ he says, thumping his forehead. ‘But I can imagine… I can imagine. And I’m sorry, so sorry for everything he’s doing.’ He opens his eyes wider and settles his stare. ‘I will do whatever it takes to make this stop.’

  ‘Does that mean…?’ She can’t bring herself to complete the question, knowing what it would represent for Nathan: risking his control, his sanity, his very identity.

  ‘Whatever it takes,’ he says, closing his eyes.

  Twenty-Two

  Nathan is sitting staring at Katie’s kitchen table, lost in his most vivid and most difficult memory. He’d thought his mum was asleep when he’d found her, drained by the exertions of looking after his dad, but it hadn’t taken long to realise the terrible truth that both of his parents had gone in a single day. Even though he’d known she was dead, he’d rocked her gently, as she would have done him when he was at the very start of his life, until she’d started to slump towards the floor. He’d reached out to grab her, falling himself and remaining on the floor, holding her tightly. He didn’t move for nearly two hours. When he’d heard his brother walking up the drive he’d jumped to his feet to block him off at the door, then turned back towards the table, removing the one thing he knew would hurt Christian even more than the sight of their mum’s body.

  He’s thinking of that item now, rapidly rewriting the past the same way he had after he’d been given his mum’s book and wondered if she somehow knew about him – reading between the lines of his terrible nightmares and perhaps identifying the very same dark vision that had shaped her writing, and possibly her life. Might she also have spotted the same affliction – and that’s the only way he’s ever been able to think of it – in Christian? Might that have been the reason she couldn’t carry on, heartbroken, envisioning a life without her husband, but also terrified of what she had passed on to both her sons?

  He snaps back into the present, aware that Katie is pacing around in the living room, impatient for them to begin.

  ‘What did he do to those little girls?’ says Nathan. He hadn’t wanted to ask, but he knows he can use this.

  ‘He gave them hope,’ she replies. ‘Made them believe their mum might come back.’

  Nathan nods, thinking of his own mum again, thinking of the desperate prayers he’d said on the day that he found her.

  ‘Okay,’ he says, pushing himself up and heading for the small door behind the curtains.

  ‘I’ll just be outside.’

  ‘No!’ he says sharply, before breathing out slowly to make himself clear. ‘I need to know there’s no other option, nowhere I can go, nobody I can shout out to. No escape.’

  ‘You’re kidding. There’s no way I’m leaving you here on your own. You heard what the Super said. I’m amazed he hasn’t already got you locked up.’

  ‘And that’s exactly what I will be,’ he says, nodding at the room again. ‘I want you to take the key with you.’

  ‘Even so…’ She shakes her head.

  He pauses before speaking. ‘Do you want me to do this, or not?’

  She stands in front of him with her arms crossed, but already he can see her features soften.

  ‘No,’ she says, clearly. ‘I don’t.’

  ‘Of course you do,’ he says, with an unsteady laugh. ‘Think of those mothers. Think of those children. Think of what might still be to come.’

  ‘I didn’t think I’d ever have a limit,’ Katie says, eyes wide in revelation. ‘I’ve been stabbed, shot at, thrown myself down a flight of stairs…’ She lowers her head. ‘And I’ve done far worse to others to get a result. But this… You… I guess I’m just realising how important you are.’ She drags at her hair. ‘And I don’t just mean the work.’ She waves an arm at her surroundings: the dirty flat filled with dirty clothes, cigarette ends and empty bottles. ‘This mess isn’t just because I can’t do the work.’

  A new fear starts to spread through Nathan, something stronger than the anticipation of what he might find in that tiny room behind him. The only thing more terrifying to him than his constant fight with the darkness is what might happen to him if he ever let in a little light. He searches Katie’s face.

  ‘We need to go ahead with the plan,’ he says finally, through clenched teeth. ‘If I can make it through this, then maybe…’

  ‘It’s too much,’ says Katie. ‘I mean, look at you.’ She fails to do so herself, gesturing, instead, at somewhere near his feet. ‘You’ve been away too long.’

  ‘I only have one more day.’

  Without warning, she reaches out and grabs him by the wrist, her fingers pressed against his scars. ‘That’s enough! I know you feel
like you need to take back control over all this madness. But that is not the way.’

  ‘And I know you don’t want me to walk away from this case.’

  ‘That’s the last thing I want.’ She lets go and knocks past him on her way towards the tiny room. She disappears into the darkness, flicks on the light and he can soon hear paper being torn from the wall. When she emerges, he already knows what she’s holding before she shows him: details of the murder that he has never been able to face. The crime scene that he knew for certain would push him over the edge. The body that proved to him that his darkest desires were possible and sent him running for the hills.

  ‘I shouldn’t have been such a coward,’ he says, realising he’s started bending his fingers back, testing the resistance. ‘I should have tried to solve that a long time ago.’ He points at the papers in her arms. ‘Unless I always knew, deep down, that it was Christian.’

  ‘We don’t know for sure it was the same person. Steven Fish’s murder was very different.’

  ‘How else could Christian have got hold of the skin he left inside the doll?’

  ‘Well, then maybe it was different because it was his first.’

  ‘The doctor was the first.’

  ‘Maybe Steven Fish was when he really lost control, killed a stranger, tortured a stranger. There are no signs he’s tortured anyone else.’

  ‘Only the families of his victims.’

  ‘That does seem to be the point.’

  ‘I think maybe I’m the point,’ says Nathan. ‘It’s twenty years since Mum took her own life…’ He pauses to squeeze his eyes shut. ‘“So sorry to have left you alone”, that’s what she said, written on the same squared paper. And I think Christian does feel alone. I think he’s doing this in the hope that I’ll join him, that I’ll be his twin again.’