by Tara Lyons
Tonight, she sat in the position that had become normal and squeezed her hands together in prayer. She formed a new nightly routine of whispering to God, or the angels, or to anyone who would listen, asking to be left alone. She opened her eyes, noticed her knuckles turning white with the pressure, loosened the grip on her own hands and tried to steady her breathing.
She peeked out of her window, too afraid to have the curtains closed and her room be propelled into complete darkness, and looked up at the clear black sky. Not a star twinkled, but the moon shone in a cloudless sky and she took that as some kind of offering of hope.
Sleep beckoned her, as it always did at this late hour, but she brushed it off. The wall clock said midnight, and it had been twelve thirty when he’d come into her room last week, so she told herself that she only had to last another half hour. It was starting to catch up with her, the lack of sleep, and it was showing in her day-to-day activities. Her English teacher had been shocked to find her napping in class yesterday and threatened to call her mother. She’d promised it was a one-off, not sleeping the night before due to an upset stomach, and breathed a sigh of relief when the teacher chose to believe her. Luckily, with no school tomorrow, it wouldn’t matter if she only got a few hours of rest … just until her mother woke up in the morning at least.
With the claws of sleep dragging down her heavy eyelids, it became more and more difficult to ignore the call of dreamland; a place where T curled her hair before their Saturday trip to the cinema, where she laughed at a joke Devon interrupted the class with, where her grandparents visited for a Sunday roast, and where she hugged and kissed her mother each morning before leaving the house.
A song played in the background; a gentle melody that she knew well but couldn’t find the words to sing along to. She was at the beach and realised, right there in that tranquil moment, that it was her most favourite place to be. She smiled. Although she’d only been to this particular seaside once, it felt like home. It felt safe. She walked across the sand slowly, so the soft warm grains could find the groves of her toes and nestle in there … until the shore became harder and wetter, and the white peaks of the waves crashed down and ran across her skin. She looked out to the ocean, to the endless rhythm of the waves, until it finally met the turquoise of the never-ending sky. The sea sparkled in the sun. She closed her eyes, committing that image to her memory, begging herself never to forget it, and tilted her head to the sunshine. The heat soaked into her skin, giving her the energy she needed, an uninterrupted boost her soul craved. Until the waves grew higher and splashed her hands and stomach. She stepped back, looked down and frowned; the ebbing tide crawled further away from her. Another splash to her hand made her spin around.
She gasped, the shining sun had been stolen by the gloom of the night. Her eyes blinked rapidly as she tried to focus, and her mind screamed at her to come back from the glistening water’s edge. There was no need for her eyes to wander, to decipher where she now was. Her breaths came fast and shallow as his fingertips lightly grazed her stomach and hand. On her back, in her bed, she stared into his demonic expression.
7
Hamilton stood with the iron gates in front of him and the sound of the crashing Thames behind him. Pellets of rain beat against his head and, despite Dixon offering shelter under her umbrella, he allowed the increasing downpour to wash over him. His heart felt as heavy as an anchor, pulling down with it his ability to breathe and swallow at ease, and causing a pain to spread throughout his entire body.
Behind the bars, a new build stood tall and proud. The freshly painted bricks seemed to shine through the drizzle, like a beacon of hope to all who stepped foot inside, but now, Hamilton knew different. The outside was a mask for the horridness behind its walls. A ball of anger erupted from the pit of his stomach, cremating the anchor, and he drew in a lungful of cold air before wiping his face.
Stepping forward, with Dixon mirroring his movement, he wondered why she hadn’t broken through his trance. Instead, she had stood in silence next to him — for what felt like hours but could have only been minutes — and allowed him to contemplate the circumstances of the crime they were about to face. Although she asked no questions, he had asked himself plenty, but the one question screaming louder than them all was, are you to blame for all this?
Together they entered the gates, passing security and SOCO teams who were as oblivious to the heavy rain as he was, and entered the building. He went through the motions of ID badges, signing in with an officer, placing protective footwear over shoes and slipping on latex gloves, but his mind was trapped in a goldfish bowl and everyone around him was stuck in a slow-motion movie. He caught Dixon staring at him, her lips were moving but he could hear no sound. He shook his head from his personal vacuum.
‘… Because you look a bit pale, sir.’
He caught the tale-end of her sentence and nodded in agreement. ‘A bit shocked, to say the least, Dixon. I can’t quite comprehend how I didn’t know this place existed.’
‘Well, the chief did explain in the briefing that—’
‘I’m well aware of what he explained,’ Hamilton snapped. ‘But that doesn’t mean I’m okay with this … place, and it certainly doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t have known about it, for Christ’s sake.’
Hamilton rubbed a hand back and forth over his head. He didn’t want to take his frustration out on Dixon, but the fury bubbled like boiling water inside him. As she turned to speak to a young uniformed officer, Hamilton steadied his breathing, intent on calming down and facing this investigation with a clear head.
‘Okay, guv, there’s a doctor at the end of the corridor waiting to escort us to the crime scene,’ Dixon said and led the way.
‘I didn’t mean to bite your head off, it’s just …’
She dismissed his words with a wave of her hand. ‘I’m just surprised you asked me to join you. What with Clarke’s history and knowledge, he seemed the obvious choice over me or Rocky, not that I’m complaining, of course.’
Hamilton nodded. ‘It crossed my mind. However, I need Clarke to compile a comprehensive list of everyone who was involved in the first investigation—’
‘What if it’s not related to this murder?’ Dixon asked.
‘It will be, and you’ll be a fresh pair of unbiased eyes at this scene, which is what I need this morning.’
A slim woman wearing ripped jeans and bright red Converse paced back and forth between the small space at the end of the corridor. Her short, curly hair bounced as if it had a life of its own. Hamilton frowned, looking for the doctor in charge that he had been promised. As he slowed, the woman turned and marched the few steps towards him with her hand held out to shake his.
‘Hi, I’m Doctor Emine Inamdar, I’m the hospital’s head physician.’
‘Ah … I see.’
She laughed. ‘What were you expecting, a long white coat and stethoscope?’
‘Well, not the stethoscope.’ He paused before introducing himself and Dixon.
Her jade eyes shone brightly against her light brown skin. ‘It was my night off, but I was called when the fire alarm went off, so excuse the casual attire. Although, we are more informal here, anyway — first name terms and all that — it helps the patients trust us if we don’t actually look like doctors,’ she explained while placing an access card over a black box and opening the door for them.
‘But you are a doctor, correct?’
Emine stopped to peer at him briefly, one eyebrow raised slightly, though she gave a small smile and continued walking through a maze of doors and corridors.
‘Yes, Inspector Hamilton, I’m a real doctor. This facility—’
‘Is a joke,’ he interrupted.
He heard the woman’s deep sigh and surmised it wasn’t the first time she had faced such scepticism about Manor Hall Hospital.
‘This facility, Inspector, started off as a trial, but I’m proud to say we’ve already had some success stories.’
‘I’m
guessing you won’t be adding murder and an escaped convict to that list.’
She stopped in the middle of an upstairs corridor, the SOCO team passing in and out of a room behind her. Although she had folded her arms across her chest, one corner of her mouth tugged upwards, a slight smile threatening to break out. Not out of amusement or joviality, however, Hamilton thought.
‘I won’t pretend to be anything but devastated about last night’s events.’ She held up her hand to stop Hamilton interrupting her again. ‘And I can assure you, I will be conducting a full investigation myself into the staff and the security of this hospital. I’ve worked here for nearly a year, since the first day this building opened, and not once has a patient tried to escape. They’re here to seek medical care and help for their mental health.’
Hamilton shook his head as a bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. ‘Doctor Inamdar, the people in this building are criminals, not patients, and should be treated as such. I — and many other police officers in this city — worked tirelessly to make the arrests we made, but it seems someone only has to scream the term “mental health issues” and they get put into this cushy looking place.’
‘I fully understand your concerns, Inspector, but you have to understand not everything is as black and white as it seems. Yes, the people in our care have committed crimes but, for them, making the distinction between right and wrong can be very difficult sometimes. They all have their own demons—’
‘And are literally given a get out of prison free card for murdering innocent people because of their personal demons, Doctor.’
Emine lowered her arms and fiddled with the thick white watch-strap on her left wrist. The ball of fury had returned to Hamilton’s stomach, but he realised they could argue about this for days … Would it really matter? It wouldn’t change the events of last night. A debate wasn’t what he was here for.
‘I can see we’re not going to have a meeting of minds today, Inspector.’ Emine ironically agreed with his internal thoughts. ‘But the use of this hospital and the way the police system is using it is something you’ll have to take up with your superior. I’m here to answer any questions you may have about my pa … about your suspect.’ She offered him another smile.
Hamilton gazed over her shoulder again and, for a moment, watched the people milling in and out; the rustling of their all-in-one white suits echoed like thunder in his ears, the constant camera clicks adding a gun-fire backing track.
Dixon cleared her throat. ‘Where are the other patients?’
‘Most are in their bedrooms,’ Emine replied. ‘We moved the patients from this floor into another part of the hospital for now. I appreciate you need to collect your evidence, but we’d really like to get them back to their own rooms as soon as possible. For some of them, it’s the routine that keeps them safe and content.’
‘Patients and staff will need to be interviewed,’ Hamilton informed the doctor.
She nodded, and he saw a look of sympathy flash in her eyes. ‘Of course, as I said, I’m here to help and … although you may not agree with what we’re doing here, I would never want to endanger the general public. I’m fully aware of the previous crimes committed.’
This time, Hamilton returned the doctor’s smile. After all, the woman was only doing her job, as they all were. He stood tall, marched towards the room and spotted a blaze of red hair in the midst of all the activity, hunched over the bed.
Hamilton glanced around the room. A pool of wet blood glistened as a ray of sunshine broke through the window and brightened the room; the bare walls, void of personality and character, except for the small bedside table which was stacked with books by James Patterson, Conrad Jones and Truman Capote. His eyes widened as a feeling of utter disbelief took hold of him. Are there really no boundaries in this place? Let's give a murderer various crime novels to indulge in during her free time.
Audrey sprung up, pushed the hair from her face and looked up at Hamilton who towered over her petite frame. It gave him a moment to scan the lifeless naked body, but his eyes stopped and hovered over the man’s large chest.
‘No stab wound to the heart?’ he asked.
Audrey frowned and shook her head. ‘No, a blade to the victim’s neck, and the murder weapon was left here for us. I assume a knife was weapon of choice in the past?’
Hamilton nodded and remained quiet as he turned slowly in the room. The furniture scarce, no personal photographs were pinned to the walls and he saw no diary or journal to glean some intelligence from. He drummed his fingers against his thigh, thinking of the court session he’d briefly attended. It wasn’t something he usually did, but this criminal had perplexed him at the time and he needed to understand more. However, a new investigation began for his team, and he resorted to reading the newspaper articles of the trial instead — though he felt they never painted a completely true picture. They always had their own agenda to sensationalise, just to help with their sales. He re-joined Dixon in the corridor, still in conversation with the doctor.
‘Doctor Inamdar,’ he interrupted.
‘Please, call me Emine.’
‘I’ve noticed the various cameras and locked doors around the hospital, but you said this was the first time someone had escaped from this hospital, is that correct?’
‘Oh, yes, this has never happened before. Despite being a fairly new hospital, and still undergoing development, Manor Hall is a secure facility. Our goal is to encourage recovery and understanding … however, I fully understand we’re dealing with a sensitive case here and—’
‘Sensitive,’ Hamilton echoed. ‘This woman murdered six people by the time we arrested her last year, and your security guard is the seventh victim to die in cold blood.’
‘Our staff and security system—’
‘Is flawed,’ Hamilton interrupted again. ‘Especially if a criminal can get their hands on keys and access cards that are designed to keep this psychiatric hospital safe.’ Hamilton raised both hands, fully aware he’d taken his frustration out on the wrong person. ‘Doctor … Emine, I’m a man of procedure and have spent most of my life hunting down vile and evil creatures that stalk this city. While the whys and reasonings of their actions are important, and have lead me to capturing them many times, my ultimately goal is to stop them harming anyone else.’
Emine ran a hand through her brown curls and sighed. ‘Not only do I understand, Inspector, but I thank you and all the emergency services in London for everything you do. However, the whys and reasonings of a person’s actions are the exact things I need to uncover if I’m to succeed in helping them.’
The largest smile Hamilton had ever seen, showing off a full set of snow-white teeth, appeared on Emine’s face. He knew this wasn’t a time for jovial expressions — a confused criminal was on the loose and another innocent body lay in the room behind him — but she was infectious and he couldn’t help but allow the corners of his mouth to turn upright. Ever so slightly.
Emine continued, ‘And that’s why I’ve given DS Dixon some files that will hopefully help your case. I’m sure you’ll send the warrant over for these immediately, however, with the confidential information they contain.’ He saw the twinkle in her eye and tipped his head. ‘They’re not my full notes from all our sessions, of course, but rather an outline of them.’
‘Plus a very small visitor’s log,’ Dixon added.
Hamilton held his hand out, particularly interested in that list. As he read the three names, his heart quickened. With a deep frown, he launched down the corridor, storming to the locked door, waiting for the doctor to catch up with him.
As the trio walked back through the maze of the hospital back towards the entrance, Emine explained her thoughts on the situation. Her continual reference to the “patient”, rather than the “cold-blooded killer”, grated on Hamilton’s nerves.
‘I had actually been really impressed with her behaviour and openness of late, except—’
‘So you thought she was cured?�
�
The doctor huffed, crossed her arms in front of her, and Hamilton spied a thick paperback grasped in her hands. ‘There is no cure for this disorder, Inspector. She was on medication for her depression and anxiety, but I focused, and worked closely with her, on a talk therapy treatment. Sadly, I hadn’t had the breakthrough yet.’
Hamilton raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to give it to me in layman’s terms. What breakthrough, exactly?’
Emine inched herself closer. ‘Dissociative identity disorder, or multiple personality disorder as it’s more commonly known, is a severe form of dissociation. The patient literally disconnects themselves from their thoughts, memories, feelings and even their identity. The host personality will feel very confused and forgetful and be totally unaware of other personalities, but they are all very real.’
‘How many personalities can there be?’ Dixon asked.
The doctor whistled. ‘That’s some question, Sergeant. The medical explanation for the disorder is when a personality becomes dissociated into two or more distinct characters, who, in turn, control and dominate. However, throughout treatment, an average of thirteen or fifteen personalities can be identified and, though uncommon, instances have been documented of patients with over one hundred personalities.’
Hamilton rolled his eyes and pulled at his shirt collar. He couldn’t say he didn’t believe what the doctor was saying, but he also couldn’t admit to accepting her thesis, either.
‘What can cause the change in personalities?’ Dixon asked. ‘I mean, you said you’d been pleased with her behaviour.’
Emine nodded. ‘Environmental triggers, life events or perhaps it was a memory we unravelled during treatment. All of these things would have easily caused the sudden shift from one personality to another.’
Hamilton sighed. ‘And the breakthrough you said you’d been waiting for?’