Lead Me Home: a clever and engrossing psychological thriller

by CS Savage

  Beth's face was white, her blonde hair looked yellow in contrast. She sat in silence, clutching her rucksack in her lap, staring straight ahead, for once, not searching from side to side. I couldn't just leave her. Clancy was proud of her choice, but she knew it added to the mountain of her worries.

  29

  I stand in the shadow of the evergreen. It’s foul out here, dour and dank, stinks of rotting vegetation. But I am mesmerised, I can’t take my eyes off you. I almost forget that insects crawl over my feet, tunnelling through the foliage. I don't shift my eyes from you, I drink you in, and you have no idea – the very thought sends a thrill through me. You are staring at the screen, rolling your mouse to and fro, absorbed in your cyber world. Despite being tired and grubby, the feel of the dust ingrained in my skin, the dirt under my fingernails, my hair stiff with grease, I watch. I rub my hands down my coat, at least the damned rain has stopped. I can't help my surge of desire. I press my hand to my groin and feel the throbbing. But I can't risk it, not whilst so many people are around. And Mother would kill me for being so uncouth. And my time will come. I am drawing you in, bit by bit.

  I cast my mind back to my last appointment with that stupid psychiatrist. She thinks she's so clever, thinks she knows me. Asks me daft questions, assumes I will tell her the truth. Who does she think she is, anyway? Forcing people to take medicine, incarcerating them. I grit my teeth, feel my face draw into a sneer. I know if I tell anyone about Mother, they will think I'm mad, just try and lock me up. Much better to keep her to myself, learn from her, gradually prepare. I still have lots to do.

  I focus my eyes back on you. You don't know it, but you are already mine. Your purpose has been defined, you will not escape. And I can't wait.

  30

  Rowan

  A message pinged in from Fariq. Yay, he’s back! She felt a little run through her, a rush of adrenaline.

  Hi sexy babes, how's you today?

  She didn't waste a minute before setting to the keyboard.

  Cool. You?

  Yep good. What you up to?

  Just got up, doing some college work. You?

  Thinking about my new sexy friend. Would love to meet you babes. Can't stop thinking about you...

  Rowan felt the warmth rise up her cheeks.

  Are you asking me on a date?

  Yeah. Suppose I am.

  Oh right. I'll have to see when I'm free.

  She felt her pulse quicken. She was just pressing send when she heard keys in the front door, the door flying open, her mum’s voice. She wasn't alone. Unusual for her mum to bring friends back. She tilted her head, could hear a low murmur and what sounded like crying. She rose from the table, peeped round the kitchen door. She could see her mum and, with her, a tall girl. She had long blonde hair, was dressed casually, a rucksack thrown over her shoulder. She was crying, clutching tissues, eyes downcast. Rowan had seen her before somewhere, but couldn't quite place her. Then, she remembered – the girl from the pub. What the fuck is going on?

  'Oh, hi, Ro. Wasn't sure you were in. This is Beth,' her mum said.

  'Oh, right...'

  'Beth's someone I am working with. She's having a bad time, so I said she could come and stay for a bit.' Beth was still crying, looking at the floor. Rowan could read her mum’s frantic eye signals. Don't make a fuss.

  She went back into the kitchen. What does “someone I am working with” mean? A member of staff? A patient? She must be a patient, and Mum had brought her home. Rowan knew about boundaries, about GMC guidance. She couldn't believe her mum was over-stepping the mark like this. She was putting her job, the income they both relied on, at risk. For what?

  She watched as her mum steered Beth into the kitchen, pulled a chair out for her and indicated for her to sit. Her irritation swilled round her, but even so, as she looked on, she couldn't help but feel sorry for this stranger. She was clearly in a right state, her shoulders shaking. She didn't even look up. Her mum made a mug of tea, placed it in front of the girl,

  'Drink.'

  Beth put her hand round the steaming mug, held it tight, but sat still. Rowan tried to make eye contact with her, but she was looking down at the table, as if staring through the bottom of her mug. In the end, Rowan reached across, touched her hand. 'Hi, Beth, I'm Rowan, Clancy's daughter.'

  Beth didn't look up, but she nodded her head to show she had heard. Her tears had stopped falling, but her face still shone damp. Her mum looked at Rowan. She mouthed, “leave her.”

  Great. I'm only trying to be nice. She stood up, closed her laptop, shoved it under her arm, and marched out. 'If you need anything I'll be upstairs.' Wonderful, now her mum had brought her work home with her.

  When she got upstairs, she remembered she had been in the middle of a conversation with Fariq. She flipped up her laptop lid and clicked onto Facebook, but he was offline. Fuck. Now, she has missed out on her date as well. She slammed the lid down, grabbed her phone and texted Amy. She needed to get out of here to go for a smoke.

  When she got back a few hours later, she could hear low voices coming from the lounge. Through the doorway, she could see Beth sitting curled on the sofa. Her mum was sat in the chair by the window, she couldn't make out what they were saying.

  'Hi, love. Come and join us?' The question trailed off. Rowan could smell cooking, followed her nose into the kitchen and found a covered meal ready for microwaving on the side. At least there’s some upside to random visitors staying. She walked through to the lounge with her food and sat at the other end of the sofa. Her plate looked lovely; pie and potatoes. Clancy and Beth were talking quietly.

  'You can stay in the spare room.' Clancy was saying. 'I'll take you up in a sec, show you where everything is.'

  'You know I've got college tomorrow?' Rowan interjected.

  'Yes, that's fine. I'm going to go in a bit late. I've got lots of work to do at home, anyway.' Her mum gave her a look that she wasn't going to argue with.

  Great. She couldn't remember the last time her mum had gone in to work late because of her. Rowan sat quietly, concentrated on eating. When she had finished, she stood up. 'I've got some college work to do, I'll be in my room.'

  Putting her plate on the kitchen side, she took the stairs to her room. The laptop lying on her bed was still open, she logged on. Ace. Fariq was back online.

  He messaged her immediately.

  Babes! Where d'you go?

  Sorry got distracted, I'm back now.

  So…What do you think about meeting up? Can't wait to see you in the flesh…

  Rowan made a split decision. She would meet Fariq. He was gorgeous, what did she have to lose? And it would help her get over Vic, she was fed up with thinking about him. Even though everyone was right, he was no good for her, she still missed the good times, the cuddling up, the sex. Fariq would take her mind right off him. She typed back.

  I'm free Friday night

  Cool. I'll pick you up outside Sutton train station. Look out for a black Audi. Can't wait babes xx

  He said he wanted to take her somewhere quiet and romantic. She rubbed her hands together, immediately started wondering what she should wear. She couldn't wait to tell Amy.

  31

  Clancy

  'You'll be ok, today?' Clancy asked as she pulled up outside Beth's house.

  'I'll ring you if anything happens. Let me know what time you'll be picking me up?'

  Clancy shouted, 'Will do,' and then pulled back out into the traffic. She bit her nails while driving to work, doubt scraped over her again. Beth had asked if she could stay another night, said she felt safer at Clancy's. And apparently, she had managed to get some sleep – not surprising given the amount of Olanzapine Clancy had made her take. Clancy scratched her head. She knew she was heading down an alley of trouble, but she couldn't refuse to let the girl stay. God knows if it was Ro, she would want someone to help her. She daren't ask why she couldn't go and stay with her own family.

  No way she could say anything to Da
n or anyone else about this. Thinking about Hamish, she felt her cheeks flush, imagined his reaction if she told him – yet hated the thought of keeping it from him. She knew what she was doing was for the best, but no-one else would understand. The traffic was built up along London Road, she tapped impatiently on the steering wheel. Ten minutes later, she pulled into the car park, grabbed her bag and almost ran into the building. She couldn't risk courting ill favour by starting her clinic late. No time to get a coffee, even, she just sat herself at her desktop and turned it on.

  Logging in, she checked her clinic list, felt her heart sink as she read the names. Another cheery meeting planned with Mr Hussein. While she waited, she flicked through her post. Envelopes of various shapes and sizes had been left on her desk by the team administrator. Report requests, more referrals. One envelope stood out. As she got to it, she felt a tiny flutter in her midriff. She sat upright, focussed hard on the writing. White envelope, neatly printed hand writing, addressed to Dr Clancy Mclean.

  These days, handwritten letters were rare, easily recognisable amongst the mainly brown envelopes. This envelope was not an office one. It was small like a notelet, the sort she would have used to write to friends with when she was a teenager. She picked it up, it was light – there could only be a sheet of paper in there. She turned it over, there was no sender address on the back. Running her finger under the sticky flap, she lifted it, gently prised it open. Inside lay a sheet of pink paper, thin as lace. She opened it. Printed handwriting, black ink, looked like it had been written with a fountain pen.

  Clancy, you will pay for what you have done.

  I will have my revenge.

  Watch and wait, and you will see.

  Clancy felt the pain between her shoulder blades as her muscles twinged. She was used to abuse and harassment; it was all par for the course as a psychiatrist. But this letter was premeditated, clearly written to threaten her, make her anxious. And it was working. She turned over the sheet of paper, nothing else written or printed, there was no clue as to the sender. Shuddering, she pushed the letter to the bottom of her stack of mail. It must just be a prank. I don’t need to take this seriously, do I? She picked up the other letters, started flicking through them. But the pink paper and malevolent words still played on her mind. A knock on her door distracted her.

  'Hello?'

  Hamish's head appeared around the door. 'You ready for us?'

  'Yes, yes, sorry.' Distracted, she opened her case notes, running her eyes down the screen. Hamish walked in. As usual, she felt a small thrill – it was so bloody irritating. He sat down and behind him walked Mr Hussein, who looked at her openly and assertively, before sitting on the edge of his seat.

  'Dr Mclean.'

  'Nice to see you,’ she lied. 'How are things going?'

  'Couldn't be better. Life is good. I've done my place up, new furnishings. It's just perfect. And I've got myself a girlfriend.'

  Clancy eyeballed him. She wasn't going to be intimidated by his insouciance, his arrogant air. 'Where did you meet her?'

  'Not giving away my secrets. Let's just say she's young, gorgeous with awesome taste, and she knows her place. I've got her eating out of my hand.'

  Clancy felt bile rise in her throat. She moved the questioning to more general topics – how was he sleeping, appetite, concentration? She tried to keep the conversation flowing, to read between the lines, pick up if he had any paranoia, any return of delusional thinking. Despite his smarminess, his over-familiarity, she could detect nothing. He seemed to be his usual slippery, unpleasant self. She looked at him directly.

  'Have you been hearing any voices recently?' She noticed a slight narrowing of his eyes, an increase in intensity of his stare.

  'No, of course not. Why would you ask me that? You're always trying to make out I'm mad.'

  'Not at all, Mr Hussein, I just need to check these things for my records. Thank you for taking the time to answer.' She nodded at Hamish. 'Okay, well, we'll meet again next week. Let me know if anything changes.'

  Hussein rose and walked from her office, Hamish behind him. Just before he exited, Hussein turned and smirked at her. Clancy kept her face still, but inside, she cringed. She decided she would talk to Emily, the team psychologist, about a SCID II assessment. The Structured Clinical Interview for the Diagnosis of axis two disorders was a tool used by psychologists to assess the presence or not of different types of personality disorder. If he would go for it, the report could be very interesting.

  Having finished her clinic, she sat at her desk, it was getting dark outside. She checked the clock – six pm – then dialled Beth.

  'I'll be round to collect you in an hour. Everything okay?'

  'I've stayed in, kept the door locked. The radio has been talking to me, telling me to watch out. But apart from that, I've been fine.' Beth spoke quickly, the words ran in to each other.

  'Just stay as you are. I'll ring you when I'm outside.' Clancy put the phone down. At least there had been no more incidents.

  32

  Rowan

  'Take a look at this.' She passed her phone over, the page opened to Fariq. 'Isn't he gorgeous?'

  Amy looked at the picture. She stared for a few moments, her nose wrinkled. 'Isn't he a bit old?'

  Rowan glared at her. 'He's not old. He's only twenty-nine. And he's wild sexy. I'm meeting him Friday night.'

  'Really?' Amy's eyes were wide. 'Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, you don't know anything about him.'

  Rowan felt the anger rise to her face. She leant towards Amy. 'Well, if you're going to be like that, you don't know anything about Sam, either…you've just met him in a pub, been out with him a couple of times.' She watched as Amy swallowed, rubbed her hand over her hair. Rowan could see her trying to form her words, starting to stammer. She was a bit of a wimp, hated arguing with anybody.

  'Well, it's not quite the same. At least I met Sam in Sutton. I'm only looking out for you, don't want you to make a mistake.'

  'Well, don't bother,' Rowan snapped. 'I'm fine. I can look after myself.'

  The pair sat in silence for what seemed like an age, the atmosphere tensing, before Amy reached across the table. 'Look, sorry, let's not fall out,' she pleaded.

  Rowan felt her chest lighten. 'Yeah, sorry too. I'm a bit jumpy. That's not the only news. Mum’s gone mad, brought some patient to stay with us.'

  'What?' Amy looked stunned.

  'She seems quite nice, actually, very quiet. But I'm sure it's against the rules. If she gets found out, she'll be in big trouble.'

  Amy was just about to reply when she noticed the time. 'Fuck, we’re going to be late.' They had practical in ten minutes, and they needed to get to the changing rooms to put their uniforms on. They managed to scrape in to the classroom with a minute to spare. Sue, their tutor, looked at them with her eyes screwed up. She was an aging skinny blonde with bleached hair, false eyelashes and fake tan. She was universally disliked. 'Good of you to turn up.' And then, she continued to address the class.

  Rowan took a seat next to one of the treatment tables. The room was reminiscent of a laboratory, clinical, lots of white and stainless steel, a faint tang of disinfectant. Today's lesson was eyebrow-tinting. Each student had a station, tables like gurneys. The room felt like a morgue. Rowan had no idea why she was doing this course, she bloody hated it.

  Six hours later, she followed Amy out of the lab, and they walked to the changing rooms, muttering.

  'Thank fuck that's over. I couldn't bear that woman for a second longer.'

  As they changed back into civvies, they talked about their plans for the week ahead, then gathered their things and left the college, walking across the car park to the bus stop. Light rain was falling; it was dark and damp, and street lamps shed long shadows. Rowan lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, leant against the bus stop, Amy by her side. All fell silent for a few moments.

  'ROWAN!' her name rang out in a shriek.

  She jumped, dropped her fag, clutched
Amy. A presence loomed before her, tall, dark hair, intense eyes. Vic. He grabbed her arm, pulled her towards him. She struggled, pulled away, but she was no match for him. He grabbed her other arm and picked her up, pinned her against the bus shelter, forced his knee between her legs, held both her hands in one above her head and used the other to circle her throat.

  'Where have you been? Why are you ignoring me? You're my bloody girlfriend. You're mine, get it, you're mine.'

  Amy started screaming, slamming him over the back with her bag. 'Let her go, you arse.'

  Other students at the bus stop turned to see what the commotion was about, started to approach at a run.

  'Ring the police,' Amy shouted.

  A tall black guy grabbed Vic by the collar and pulled him off, throwing him down on the ground. 'What's your game?' he shouted.

  Vic leapt up, for a second it looked like he was going to stop and fight, but he surveyed the gathering crowd, seemed to come to a decision that it was a fight he wouldn't win and turned on his heels running off down the road.

  'This isn't over, Ro,' he shouted over his shoulder.

  Rowan fell back against the glass of the bus stop, rubbing her throat.

  Amy threw her arms around her. 'OMG Ro. You've got to do something about this. Tell your mum, go to the police…'

  But Rowan shook her head. No way was she going through that embarrassment, no-one could know what he had done to her, what he thought of her. She picked up her bag, let Amy keep her arm around her to support her. She turned to acknowledge the black guy.

  'Thanks, mate, I owe you one.'