by CS Savage
'Hi, Beth, can you give me a ring. It's sort of urgent.'
She put the phone down. Beth was probably at work. She redialled, this time, Ro's number again. No answer. Great. Where is everyone?
Clancy tried hard to concentrate on her work, but a sense of dread tightened in her stomach. She slid her hand across the table, picked up her phone, dialled. Again, it rang out, again no answer. It was very unlike Ro to be out of contact like this. Clancy checked the clock, nearly midday. She knew she had Amy's number written down somewhere at home. If she hadn't heard anything before she got home, she would look for the number, ring her, see what they had been up to at the weekend – and ask what time Ro had left there. She was interrupted by her desk phone ringing, reached out and picked it up.
'Hi, it’s Neil, the AMPH. Are you Mr Lowe’s psychiatrist? I'm trying to set up this assessment.'
Clancy tried hard to keep the irritation out of her voice. 'Set up? This was urgent on Friday. I was promised it would happen this morning.'
'Not by me, you weren't.' Neil sounded as if he was chortling to himself. 'I would never have promised such a thing. Before I can even start, I need to go and get a warrant. I just need to go over some details.'
Clancy closed her eyes briefly, touched the scab at the back of head but managed to pull her fingers away before causing any damage. 'When do you think you can get it sorted for?'
'Aiming for tomorrow, but no promises.'
Clancy reiterated his history.
'Ok, I'll go and get that warrant this afternoon. I'll try to set things up for nine am tomorrow. I take it you'll be available?'
'I'll make sure I am. Let me know if anything changes.' She placed the receiver gently down – if she hadn't consciously done so, she would have shattered it.
She spent the afternoon trying to complete a report she was writing, but she just couldn't get her thoughts straight, kept rereading the same lines. In the end, she grabbed her coat and thought she would pop out for some fresh air. Pacing around the grounds, she tried to absorb the peace, but her thoughts raced – and she remembered, she still had to track down Hussein. She pulled her iPhone out and flipped through her contacts before dialling.
'It's me. Have you heard from Hussein?'
'Not a whistle. Gone to ground, it seems,' Hamish answered.
Christ – where is everyone disappearing to?
'I'm waiting to hear back from the AMPH about this assessment, and from the police about this idiot they're arresting who’s been sending me dodgy letters. You stick on Hussein's case, will you? I haven't got the energy for him until this settles a bit.'
'No probs, I'll do that.’
Sitting at her desk again half an hour later, Clancy stared at her phone, wishing it to ring. She dialled Ro again. This time, it went straight to voicemail. Shit, now her battery is flat. Clancy knew Ro always kept her phone charged – she never went anywhere without it. Where the hell was she?
74
Even though you are lying still, your eyes closed, I know you are awake. Your breathing is shallow, irregular. Your face is white, no hint of colour. I itch to get the make-up out to brighten you up but know I must wait until you are gone. As I run the fluid through the line, to increase the flow, your breathing slows down, becomes deeper, your eyelids relax. You are a picture of pale beauty. I take your wrist, feel for your pulse. It is still there, light and thready. I move to start the routine of cleaning you, take the bowl to the bathroom and fill it with warm water, soap, take the sponge and soak it. Although it is tiring, there is a peacefulness to the routine. The fact that I know I will soon have no need to follow it almost makes me feel sad. But then, I remember I will have you forever, and my joy returns.
75
Angel
She was vaguely aware of movement in the room. Her eyelids felt like lead, so heavy that even though she strained herself to muster all her physical strength, they remained resolutely shut. But she could hear breathing in the room, was desperate to see what he was up to now. There was a creak of hinges, the cupboard door opening and then the clatter of metal on metal. Seconds later, the sound of rustling, like the scrunching of a plastic bag and then a snap, like plastic cracking. She heard light footsteps approaching, tried to shrink away from him but couldn't move a muscle. The needle in her arm was stinging. She couldn't see, but she could imagine the skin, red and inflamed around the metal. Suddenly, there was a pull as the line was tugged, the needle shifted, and the pain shot through her, but again, she didn't flinch. It was as if the strength had been forcibly drained from her, sucked out of her, her muscles turned to fat. And then, she felt her thoughts go fluid. Again, she was sinking, floating. And then, darkness returned.
76
Clancy
It was gone four pm before the police called her with an update.
'We have Victor in custody. Went to his house, arrested him first thing.'
'Great. What's he saying? Is he admitting to it?'
'Well, that's the strange thing. He's been crying like a baby, says he loves her, he wouldn't harm her. But he does admit posting that Facebook photo and throwing the eggs. Even admits he roughed her up a bit outside the college. But we've shown him the notes and the photo, and he's adamant. Says he's never seen them before, had nothing to do with them.'
'Do you believe him?'
'Dunno. He might be lying because the notes and photo are more threatening and show planning, he may realise that might get him into more trouble. He claims that everything he's done, he's done impulsively because he's been so upset. Could be true. Anyway, we're not giving up yet. Just thought I'd let you know that we're keeping him here, going to have another go at him later.'
Clancy breathed out slowly, drew her hand down from her neck. At least she could stop worrying about Ro. Vic was locked up, she couldn't think of a better place for him. As she put the phone down, Hamish stuck his head round the door.
'Can you talk?'
'Yeah…that was the police. They have that idiot ex-boyfriend of Ro's in custody. Thank God.' She looked at the photo on her desk. Hamish’s eyes followed her.
'I haven't seen her in a while,' he said. 'Has she changed much?'
'No, not much. She's still a massive pain.' Clancy smiled. 'Wouldn't be without her, though.'
'I just wanted to check about Hussein. Do you want to make a time to go round there? Still not heard anything from him–' The phone ringing interrupted them.
'Hi, Neil here. I've got that warrant. The assessment is booked for nine-thirty am tomorrow. Police can make it. I'll have to call the ambulance when we've seen him. I've got a second section 12 doctor lined up. I'll meet you there, ok?'
'Great.'
'The police risk assessment is showing him as high risk, so they'll be out in force, I'm afraid. It won't be the most discreet assessment.'
'He won't thank us for that,' Clancy replied, before replacing the receiver and turning back to Hamish.
'Good news?' Hamish said.
Clancy nodded. 'Indeed. Hopefully, we'll get him in. Now, Hussein…would you mind going round there to see if you can catch him? I'm going to be out with this assessment tomorrow, so can't come with you, but I'd feel happier if we lay eyes on him sooner rather than later.'
'Will do. I'll ring you tomorrow, let you know how I get on.' Hamish stood up and turned to leave. 'Good luck for the morning.' And he was gone.
Clancy checked the clock, it was now gone five. Time to finish writing up and then home. She tried Ro's number again, still went straight to voicemail. When she got home, she would be able to find Amy's number and should be able to track her down. And at least Vic was behind bars.
As she put her key in the front door, she was struck by how cold and empty the house seemed. Nothing had moved since she had left that morning, no discarded shoes lay in the hall, no light spilling from under doors. No Ro. She walked through to the kitchen and reached immediately for a wine glass, took an unopened bottle of red from the rack, uncorked it a
nd poured a full glass. She walked through to the bureau in the lounge, which was the last place she remembered seeing the list of Ro's friends’ phone numbers. She had taken the numbers down when Ro was fifteen, a sort of safety net so that she could check on her if she was staying out, but had never actually used it.
The bureau was stuffed full of paperwork, old insurance policies, bank statements and utility bills. She rifled through the piles, eventually found an old envelope under the passports. Names and numbers were scrawled in pink highlighter pen in Ro's handwriting. She quickly scanned them, felt the corners of her mouth rise as she saw some of the names of old friends she hadn't heard of for ages. Near the bottom of the list was Amy, a house phone number, not a mobile, likely to be her home address.
Clancy drew her phone from her pocket, dialled the number. An irritating voice told her the number could not be recognised. Exasperated, she dialled again. Same message. Either it was a dud number, or they had changed it. She filled her glass, glugged more wine down and went back into the kitchen. She sat at the table, wringing her hands, picked up her glass and drank more wine. But her stomach still churned. In the end, she picked up her phone and dialled Hamish, desperate to hear a friendly voice. She sighed with relief when, after a few ringtones, he picked up.
'Everything ok?'
'Sorry to dump on you. I'm just so worried about Ro. That list of numbers I have for her friends – well, Amy's is a dud…number not recognised'
Clancy could hear a thump as Hamish sat down at the other end of the line. 'Don't worry about Ro, she'll be fine. She’s old enough to look after herself. Try to keep focused on work, that part is tough enough.'
Clancy began to relax into the evening. She clocked the now empty wine bottle in front of her. Where the hell did that go? One bottle of wine was never quite enough. She sighed, stood up, better get herself something to eat and get to bed. Tomorrow was going to be a tough day.
77
As soon as the dawn breaks, I wake – my pulse immediately fast. I can hear raindrops pattering against the window. I peek through the blinds, and all looks gloomy. It’s time to start my preparations. Everything must be cleansed. I start with myself, go to the bathroom and turn on the shower. I stand under the warm torrent for ten minutes, scrubbing my skin until it tingles. I cleaned the bedroom last night, so I only need to do one more body wash, and everything will be set. I feel the blood flow to my penis at the thought of what is to come. When I have scrubbed every inch of my body, I dry myself carefully. I do not need clothes, my penis twitches as I leave the bathroom, as the picture of my performance starts to run through my mind like a film.
As I open the bedroom door, my eyes fall straight on you, lying spread-eagled. Your skin is pale, tinged with blue. The glow of life has already left, your skin has a shiny quality, like glass. I hastily wash you, go through the final routine of rolling, washing, sheet changing. When you are ready, I walk to the side of the bed, feel your wrist for a pulse. It is hardly present, the rhythm irregular. Your chest hardly rises as you breathe. Your cheeks are like marble. I take the line running from your drip, move the ball up the catch, see the drips start to fall more quickly. I watch as the life seeps out of you, away from you, and I know that now is the time. I move to the bottom of the bed, stand between your legs, reach out to touch them, stroke them. The skin on your calves is cool, like porcelain. I watch the rise and fall of your breasts, each breath seems lighter, the movement almost indiscernible. I inch myself forward, running my hands up the skin of your thighs towards my goal. I kneel on the mattress, walk my knees forward and upward, press my thighs into the coolness of yours.
I do not need to caress my member, I can feel it, the skin stretched taught, almost painful. I lean over you, work my fingers up the inside of your thighs, up to your labia, spread them apart. It is so long since I have been in this position, have had this vista before me. I prise my finger gently in between them, they resist the intrusion, cling around my finger, but they cannot prevent my burrowing. I can feel the warmth of your body heat now, the folds of your vagina cling to me. I move my finger up and down, try to separate the folds, make a path for the volume of my penis. I withdraw my finger, inch my knees between your thighs, lean over your chest, my hands either side of you, my face close to yours. I watch, count the seconds between your breaths, each gasp seems to be more delayed than the last. When I can count to ten, I know that your breathing is slowed, that these will be the last that you have. I reach down, grasp my penis, force it between your labia, push against the firmness that seems to have lost its elasticity. I scream as I bury myself in you, a scream of joy and of redemption. You are mine, you always will be, no-one can separate us.
I pump into you, smacking my thighs into yours. I feel the bed rock beneath me. My climax is like a torrent of effervescence has been poured through my veins. It floods through my body in a rush of tingling. I cannot see, cannot hear, as I empty myself into you. And then, I collapse on to you, my face pressed to yours. It already feels cool against my skin. I reach up, draw your lids down over your opaque eyes, and take a deep breath. You are mine. But I still have a lot of work to do to preserve you.
78
Clancy
The door slammed behind her as she rushed to her Golf. God knows how she had managed to oversleep – she felt like she had tossed and turned all night. It was raining again, and she had forgotten her shell, so her fleece was already damp. She threw her bag on the passenger seat, started the engine and pulled out into the traffic, heading east towards Sutton, didn't need to use her Satnav, had been there enough times now to know her way from memory. As she pulled into the estate, she saw a white van, blue and yellow checked, parked by the side of the road. Two police officers stood outside it. Fortunately, they had had the sense to park round the corner, so that Lowe wouldn't be alerted. They weren't always so wise. She could see Neil talking to a man in a dark suit, the second doctor, who was standing just behind the police van. She parked up and crossed the road to join the team, checking her watch as she walked – ten minutes late.
'Sorry, guys,' she said as she approached. 'Bad traffic.'
Neil nodded at her. 'I was just filling Dr Paul in about his history. Did you want to add anything?'
Clancy put out her hand to shake his. 'Hi, we haven't met before. What have you been told so far?'
'Not much.'
Clancy nearly screeched. If I have to go over this history again...Patiently, she reiterated the story. The police approached, and they stood in a huddle together discussing how to proceed. A tall officer with short grey hair spoke.
'Look, he has a high-risk profile. We need to be careful.' He turned to face Clancy and Neil. 'I don't want you in the house without officers present. And he's an abscond risk, so we need officers at all the exits. I'm afraid I'm going to have to call for backup.'
'But you've had his risk assessment for 24 hours,' Clancy protested.
The officer just shrugged at her. 'Can't be helped, I'm afraid.'
'Great.' Clancy turned and marched back to her car, at least she could get out of the dratted rain. She sat in her car drumming her fingertips on the steering wheel, her thoughts racing. Was this assessment ever going to get done? Eventually, a police car pulled up behind the van, four officers piled out. Here we go. Clancy clambered out of her car for the second time. She caught sight of herself in the rear-view mirror as she moved, her hair was its usual wild self. As she approached the group, a four-by-four drove up the road, parked up.
Neil crossed the road to speak to the driver, 'You the locksmith?'
The guy nodded.
'Great, then we’re good to go. Right, two officers and us three,' he motioned Clancy and Dr Paul, ‘will go and knock on the door.’
'I suspect he won't answer,' Clancy interjected. 'I knocked on Friday…he opened the door a fraction but didn't look at all pleased to see me, told me to clear off. With the police in tow, I think it's fair to suspect he's not going to cooperate.'
Neil handed it to him. No way the police were going to act without seeing it.
The officer waved to two of his colleagues, 'I want you round the back covering the rear exit and keep an eye on the windows. I don't want to lose him. Everyone ready?'
Clancy pulled her fleece around her and followed the officers up the pavement and down Mr Lowe’s door path. It was Neil who knocked and shouted through the door.
'Mr Lowe, could you open the door and let us in please? My name’s Neil, I'm an approved mental health professional. I'm here with some colleagues to assess you under the Mental Health Act.'
The group stood quietly, heads cocked to the side, listening for any noise inside the building. It was silent.
Neil knocked again, 'Mr Lowe, can you open the door please.'
Still silence. Neil motioned to the officer who was standing behind him, a large black metal column under his arm. 'Do the honours?'
The officer nodded and stepped forward, took position on the doorstep, and on being given the go-ahead by the tall grey-haired sergeant, starting swinging the ram into the door. On the first swing, the door creaked, but remained solid. But after the second, there was a splintering sound, the door frame cracked. The officer lifted his foot, stamped against the door, and then chaos ensued. Clancy was pushed to the side as officers ran into the hall.
'Police, stay where you are.' In front of them, a dark clad figure appeared from the lounge door, ran into the kitchen, slammed the door behind him. The officers scrambled after him,