Can You See Her?: An absolutely compelling psychological thriller

by S. E. Lynes

  ‘London remains committed to a zero-tolerance attitude towards knife crime,’ Mayor Sadiq Khan later commented. ‘Anyone caught carrying a knife will be arrested and charged. Parents would be wise to remind their children that the penalty for possession of a knife is four years.’

  The papers fall from my hands. I hear them slide to the floor.

  ‘Rachel. In the story you told me, you mentioned a couple of times texting your son, Kieron, at university.’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘You told Anne-Marie you had two children.’

  ‘I… I did.’

  ‘You told Ingrid that your son was at university.’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Can you tell me what these newspaper clippings relate to?’

  The breath stills in my chest, shudders out of me in a heavy rush.

  ‘My son,’ I manage. ‘I can’t. I can’t.’

  ‘I understand. It’s a difficult thing to say, Rachel. You’ve found it impossible. As have Mark and Katie. The three of you haven’t spoken about Kieron at all, have you? About his death. Is it possible you haven’t been able to believe it?’

  ‘I don’t know. I just… can’t talk about it. I don’t want to.’

  ‘Can you tell me? Can you tell me now, do you think?’

  I close my eyes. Time stills in the silent room. I think of Kieron’s bedroom door at home. I think of my hand on the door handle, the breath caught in my chest. I haven’t been into that room for a year. I can’t go into that room. I cannot.

  ‘Rachel? I know this is harder than you can bear, but if you can articulate it, it will help, I promise.’

  ‘It won’t bring him back, though, will it?’

  ‘No. No, it won’t. But it will help you to grieve. It’ll help you to get to the bottom of all of this.’

  ‘He was murdered.’

  ‘Who was? Can you tell me who?’

  ‘My son. Kieron. He was stabbed outside a bar in London.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, he was, Rachel.’

  Outside the silent room, the intermittent hum of traffic. I glance at the window, hoping to see the fly. But it isn’t there.

  ‘He’d only been away from home four days,’ I hear myself whisper. ‘It was freshers’ week. He’d gone on a date with this lad he’d met. He texted me. He sounded happy. Like he was making friends, having a good time. As he came out of the bar, him and his friend were set upon. His friend managed to get away, but Kieron… he didn’t. He didn’t get away. They rushed him to hospital but… he didn’t make it.’

  The room is silent. Outside, the droning of the cars. Life continuing as if nothing has happened. How can life continue as if nothing has happened?

  ‘You’ve been incredibly brave, Rachel. You’ve found words you never thought you’d find and you’ve said them out loud. There are other things you can’t imagine you’ll ever do, but you will. I think this is the heart of all of it. Kieron. Your son. Your son is at the heart of this.’

  I am nodding. My jogging bottoms are spotting with tear drops.

  ‘The attack on Ian Brown,’ she says. ‘It’s the only one you remember clearly, is that still the case?’

  ‘Yes. The others are just… they’re just… images.’

  ‘And you remembered that attack after you’d read about it in the news.’

  ‘Yes. That’s when it all came flooding back.’

  ‘You remembered being in the pub, and taking the boy to the pond where you took Joanna. You said he reminded you of your son, even though physically they were not alike.’

  ‘Something about him. And he was gay as well, like our Kieron.’

  She shifts in her chair, leans forward with her hands clasped together in front of her.

  ‘And the date, Rachel. The twenty-eighth of September. The day you decided to raise your passing acquaintance with a homeless boy to something more. A friendship, with yourself in a maternal role. You wanted to adopt him, in a sense. You wanted to give him a fresh start. You chose the twenty-eighth of September to do that, but you didn’t mention the significance of the date in your story. Do you think you can now?’ She pulls out some tissues. ‘I know it’s hard, but you’re doing so well.’

  ‘It’s the anniversary,’ I say.

  ‘Of what, Rachel?’

  ‘Of Kieron. Of him… of his… I can’t say it. If I say it then… I don’t… I don’t… I don’t want…’ I grasp a tissue, another, another. There aren’t enough tissues in the world. I will cry for the rest of my life and still he won’t come back. He will never come back. My boy. My son.

  ‘Knifed,’ I manage. ‘Hate crime. How can I say that? How can any mother say that?’

  A moment. Two.

  I look her straight in the eye. ‘I just wanted to comfort him, that’s all. I wanted to hold him to me so that he wouldn’t have to die alone. Kieron died alone. We got the call and went straight there. We drove all the way without stopping, straight to the hospital, but he… he’d gone. He died afraid and lonely and I wasn’t with him. I wasn’t with him. Do you see?’ I plunge my face into my hands. ‘I wasn’t there for my boy. I wasn’t there.’

  51

  Katie

  Transcript of recorded interview with Katie Edwards (excerpt)

  Also present: DI Heather Scott, PC Marilyn Button

  HS: And the final date, this Saturday just gone, can you confirm your whereabouts? (Pause) For the tape, Ms Edwards is composing herself.

  KE: I was in Warrington with my mates. I wanted to be with my mates. Get wasted, like. It was the anniversary and I just couldn’t take it. I was in a state. I thought Mum would be doing something but she left for work without saying anything to anyone. My dad didn’t say anything to me that morning either, apart from asking if I was all right, which I wasn’t, obviously, and neither was he. None of us were. Dad said he was going out with Roy so I thought Mum must be going out with Lisa. I didn’t realise she wasn’t seeing Lisa anymore. I couldn’t believe she hadn’t asked me what I was doing, but now, with everything that’s happened, I suppose I hadn’t asked her either, had I? I mean, she was ill. She is ill. And that’s what that means, people not behaving like themselves. I mean, you see it on Facebook and Insta and everything but it’s just, like, slogans? When it’s real, when it’s someone you love, it’s actually really hard. After our Kieron died, my mum set the table with four places for weeks. We couldn’t get her to stop. I mean, we say we understand if someone’s depressed or whatever, but then we expect them to behave normally and get pissed off if they don’t. And I was pissed off at her for not taking any notice of me, I suppose. I was grieving too! But I should have got it, you know? Before. We were all in such a bad place. Kieron was so cool. He DJ’d at my eighteenth – all my mates loved him. I loved him. I loved him so much and he was taken. Liam’s mum said that grief is selfish and I was really offended when she said that, but I know what she means now. Grief is selfish. It is.

  HS: So did you speak to your mum that evening? For the benefit of the tape, Ms Edwards is nodding.

  KE: She rang me. I could tell she wanted to talk. She might even have wanted to talk about Kieron, she might have been ready, but I’ll never know that now, will I? She asked if I wanted to do a late night with pizza and wine. We hadn’t done that since before Kieron died. She was lonely. I could hear it in her voice. I knew I should go to her, get in a cab and go. I told her I loved her but I went back into the club. I wish I hadn’t. If I’d gone to her, this would never have happened. I should have gone to her. She was lonely and I left her alone and now this has all happened and it’s too late. (Breaks down)

  52

  Lisa

  Transcript of recorded interview with Lisa Baxter (excerpt)

  Also present: DI Heather Scott, PC Marilyn Button

  LB: I saw her walking down her road. I was coming from her house but I kept my eyes dead straight. She looked like she was in a world of her own, to be honest. And then I texted her the next day, the Saturday, because it was the
anniversary, you know? I asked if she was OK. I tried to get her out for a drink or just to come round, but she didn’t even reply. I should have rung her. I feel terrible, but at the same time, she wouldn’t have answered, and if someone won’t talk, won’t come out and won’t reply, what else can you do? I should have gone and got her from work and forced her to come to mine or something, anything. I shouldn’t have left her on her own that day. No one should. But you have to be brave to keep chipping away at someone. Brave or stupid. I didn’t know what to do, how to be a friend. Which is weird, because we’ve been friends our whole lives.

  HS: And you’re saying you were at home that night, the night Ian Brown was knifed?

  LB: Yes.

  HS: For the benefit of the tape, can you describe what’s in front of you?

  LB: Cigarette ends.

  HS: These four cigarette ends were found in a plastic bag hidden in the garage at Rachel Edwards’ house. Can you tell us anything about that?

  LB: No. I don’t know why anyone would keep dog ends in the garage. But as I say, Rachel wasn’t herself. I realise now that I didn’t know the half of what she was doing. I only found out about the clip file when Mark showed it to me.

  HS: Mrs Edwards says she found evidence of you and Mr Edwards having smoked in her absence. Could the cigarette ends be yours?

  LB: Possibly. We did have a sneaky fag because we were both stressed. But why would she keep my dog ends?

  HS: Rachel did see you driving past her last Friday, clearly on your way from her house. When she got in, she found the cigarette ends in the kitchen. She kept them, planning to confront you about it later. She believes you and Mr Edwards were having an affair.

  LB: An affair? What do you mean, an affair?

  HS: A love affair.

  LB: Me and her Mark? Are you yanking my chain? (Laughs) Oh my God. You’re actually serious? Sorry, but that’s ridiculous. I’d never do that to a friend, and certainly not to Rachel; that’d be like doing it to my own sister! Really, you can forget that one. Strike it right off your list. Besides which, Mark’s not my type at all. He’s too nice, for a start. I seem to prefer total bastards, if you’ll excuse my français.

  HS: Ms Baxter, cigarette ends were found near the town-hall pond on Sunday the twenty-ninth of September and in the bushes near the car park of Brookvale Leisure Centre late in the evening of Thursday the twenty-sixth. Following forensic examination, a DNA match has been found with the sample found at Rachel Edwards’ property. Can you shed any light on that? Ms Baxter? Ms Baxter?

  53

  Rachel

  Amanda sips her coffee. I hear the soft gulp as it goes down her neck. This is a new day. Yesterday she held my hand, told me that I was brave.

  ‘Rachel,’ she says after a minute or so. ‘I want to ask you now about David King.’

  ‘Dave? As in my manager Dave? Why? What’s he got to do with it?’

  Slowly she picks up my statement. ‘You confessed to the murders of Joanna Weatherall and Anne-Marie Golightly, and the strangulation of Henry Parker. You claim to have killed Ian Brown. But there’s nothing in here about the murder of David King.’

  I wipe my eyes, blow my nose, warmth flashing through the length of me. ‘David King? Dave?’

  ‘Your manager, yes. He was found dead in his flat in Duke Street, about ten minutes’ walk from your place of work.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Two days after you made the call. But he’d been dead for over forty-eight hours. Which means he was killed sometime on Saturday afternoon or evening.’

  ‘What?’ Heat bursts in my head; my hair is damp.

  ‘He was murdered. Stabbed twice in the ribs with the same knife. You haven’t mentioned him other than to say he popped in around midday, that he made you a cup of tea. Do you remember anything at all?’

  ‘No, I… I didn’t know.’

  ‘Rachel, I’d like to try something with you, if you’re agreeable. I’d like to try hypnosis. Would you be willing to do that?’

  It’s a strange kind of laugh that escapes us in moments where we can’t imagine ever doing anything of the sort, and it’s that kind of laugh that breaks from me now.

  Amanda smiles, her blue eyes half closing. ‘It’s not… I’m not going to perform any tricks.’

  ‘Not going to make me stand on one leg and cluck like a chicken?’

  ‘I was hoping to take you back to the pond. I was hoping that now that you’ve been able to voice what happened to Kieron, we might be able to dig a little deeper into that memory. All right?’

  ‘All right.’

  ‘So you’re happy for me to use hypnosis?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘All right. All right, Rachel.’ She shifts her bottom to the edge of her chair. ‘Close your eyes.’

  54

  Rachel

  ‘You’ll hear my voice, Rachel, and my voice reminds you that you’re safe and calm and relaxed, really relaxed and warm in your safe place. Now I want you to know that all information that you have ever seen, heard or felt since the day you were born is stored in your subconscious mind, and that’s where we’re going to go. That information is available to you at will if you want it. All you need to do is to relax and let go… It has always been there, and will always be, for your easy access, just like taking something from a shelf. I want you to go back to the park that night. I’m here and you will hear my voice and my voice will remind you that you’re safe and calm and relaxed.

  ‘You and Ian are walking through the town-hall park towards the pond… Reach in now and remove any block to your memory that you may have had. Any time you feel a block coming back, take a deep breath, and as you exhale, you can command that block to leave you. It is your mind, your cache of information… you own it. And you control it. I’m here beside you, Rachel, and you will hear my voice, and my voice will remind you that you are safe and calm and relaxed, relaxed and warm in your safe space.

  ‘You now have total recall at will. Remembering is a priority for you. It is easy and natural for you to remember. As you receive new information, you have total recall of this information at will. You now have the ability to retrieve that information and I am here beside you… You’re in the park and you’re walking towards the bench by the pond…’

  I hear her voice in the sky. I’m walking through the park and I’m telling her I’m walking through the park and I hear myself tell her I’m walking through the park. My voice is mine and someone else’s. My voice is a radio. The radio is broadcasting my voice and my voice is calm. I am calm. There is a breeze on my face and the air is cool and smells of night. Blue Eyes is in the sky; the sky is dark blue and calm. The boy is with me. He feels like Kieron beside me, the way he walks, his energy, his smell. He’s young and he’s telling me his troubles like Kieron used to do. I tell him it’s going to be all right. I tell him being gay isn’t wrong. He’s going to be OK and one day he’ll find someone who loves him for all the reasons he thinks he’s unlovable. There’ll be heartbreak along the way but there’s heartbreak for everyone and the important thing in this life is to love, to get out there and love, love your head off and take the knocks as they come because living without love isn’t living at all, not really.

  ‘We get to the bench and he sits down,’ I hear myself say from the sky. ‘I put my arm around him. With my other hand I feel the knife in my bag. And he’s talking to me and I’m comforting him and telling him everything’s going to be OK. And then he says he needs to go and I say OK, all right, I’ll walk you back to the road, and there’s… there’s a smell. And he says he has to go. And I say I’ll walk with him but he says he’s changed his mind, he wants to stay awhile. I say OK. OK, love, I say, and I say goodbye and I wish him well and I tell him not to worry about things and I smell smoke. I can smell cigarette smoke. It’s strong, wafting over on the breeze. But there’s no one there. There’s no one… there’s no one there…’

  ‘Rachel?’ Blue Eyes, blue skies, calling my name my name
my name. ‘Can you look in your bag, Rachel. Look inside your bag.’

  ‘I can,’ I say to the sky. I am calm and the air is cool. I am opening my bag and my bag is dark.

  ‘Can you tell me what’s in the bag, Rachel?’

  ‘My purse. My cloth bags for the supermarket.’

  ‘What else?’

  ‘My umbrella. Glasses case. Tissues.’

  ‘Can you find the knife, Rachel?’

  I am looking into my bag and my bag is dark. I am rummaging around in my bag, rummaging around around around.

  ‘Can you find the knife, Rachel?’

  ‘It’s not in my… I can’t… but I can smell smoke.’ My breath comes shallow and fast. I am not calm. The air is cold.’

  ‘Can you find the knife, Rachel?’

  ‘The bench is cold. I can smell… I can smell cigarettes.’

  ‘Rachel, can you find the knife?’

  ‘Cigarette smoke. I can smell… Oh God. Oh God help me.’

  ‘Rachel.’ Amanda’s voice in the sky. ‘Rachel, it’s OK, we’re going to come out in one, two, three… out.’

  I open my eyes. I am panting. There is sweat on my forehead and my mouth is dry.

  Blue Eyes is looking at me with concern. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘I said goodbye to him,’ I say. ‘I left him there on the bench. He was alive. There was an umbrella in my bag. Not a knife. I smelled cigarettes. But neither of us smoked.’