The Police Doctor's Discovery

by Laura MacDonald

  ‘I’ll let you get on, then,’ said Bruce. As they reached Reception, he said, ‘Oh, did you get the Alzheimer’s email?’

  Rachel paused. Why was he asking her that? ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘but I haven’t had the chance to check it yet.’

  On the way to her car she found herself wondering if it could be Bruce who had been responsible for the emails. Then she dismissed the thought—she really was becoming paranoid now, she told herself firmly as she started the engine. Why, at one time there she had even suspected Nick—as if it could have been him.

  But...the little voice of reason niggled at the back of her mind, it had to be someone. At least it wasn’t the stalker—the murderer, she reminded herself. He was safely locked up—there was no way she was in any danger from him. It was far more likely that her first suspicions had been correct and it was indeed Tommy who had a fixation about her and who was obviously capable of far more than he led his mother to believe.

  There was a light drizzle, enough to need to use the windscreen wipers, and the low cloud made the late afternoon seem darker than it really was, while the canal, when Rachel reached it, appeared deep, gun-metal grey. The Newtons lived in a cul-de-sac of modern, semi-detached houses built of yellow brick, and Rachel found number eleven with no trouble and parked outside. The garden had a small lawn surrounded by neat flower-beds filled with wallflowers and yellow and white chrysanthemums, and after Rachel had rung the doorbell the door was opened almost immediately by Philip.

  ‘Oh, Rachel,’ he said, ‘it’s so good of you to come.’ Rachel noticed he looked agitated and there was a bead of sweat on his upper lip. ‘Come in,’ he added, standing back for her to enter the small hallway.

  ‘Hello, Philip,’ she said stepping inside. ‘How is she?’

  ‘She’s in a lot of pain,’ he replied. ‘She’s in bed, like you said.’ He indicated the stairs.

  ‘Right, thank you, Philip.’ Rachel started to climb the stairs with Philip close behind her. ‘Which bedroom?’ she asked as she reached the landing.

  ‘Oh, that one.’ He pointed to a room at the back of the house whose door stood ajar. Rachel tapped on the door, walked into the room and instantly knew there was something wrong. She had been expecting the main bedroom, with Julie in a double bed. Instead, she found herself in a small narrow room, little more than a box room. There was a single bed in the room but it was empty. There was no sign of Julie, but most disturbing of all to Rachel was the fact that the wall facing her was covered with photographs of herself.

  For one instant she was struck dumb as she gazed at the wall. The photographs were mostly old ones—her as a child in the garden of Ashton House, as a teenager at some party or other—but there were others, more recent ones, which had been enlarged, showing her at the Michaelmas Fair, with Georgie, on the dodgems and receiving her raffle prize. Then her brain leapt into gear and she rounded on Philip, who was standing very close behind her, blocking the doorway. ‘What’s going on, Philip?’ she said, surprised at how calm her voice sounded. ‘Where’s Julie?’

  ‘Julie isn’t here,’ he said, and his words sent a chill down Rachel’s spine. ‘It’s just you and me now, Rachel.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ she said, her voice still calm in spite of the fact that her heart was beating rapidly and her mouth felt quite dry. ‘You said Julie was ill...’

  ‘That was the only way I knew to get you here,’ he said, his tone matter-of-fact.

  ‘So where is she?’ As she spoke Rachel felt the hairs at the back of her neck begin to prickle.

  He didn’t answer, instead leaning forward to study his photograph collection more intently.

  ‘Philip?’ Rachel repeated urgently. ‘Where is Julie?’

  ‘She’s left me,’ he said at last.

  ‘Left you?’ Rachel frowned, surprised in spite of her fear.

  ‘She’s gone back to her mother,’ he said. His voice was dull, flat and expressionless.

  ‘But why?’ Rachel demanded. ‘I don’t understand. I thought you two were happy. You were trying for a family. I thought...’

  ‘We were,’ he said in the same flat monotone, ‘sort of, but then you came back, Rachel, and everything changed.’

  She stared at him. ‘You’re saying that my coming back to Westhampstead changed things between you and Julie?’

  ‘Of course it did.’ He spoke scornfully, as if it should have been obvious.

  ‘Well, I’m sorry, Philip,’ she said, ‘but I really don’t see why.’

  ‘Don’t you?’ He stared at her, and now his eyes with their sandy lashes seemed to bore into her. ‘She always knew there was someone else,’ he said, ‘but she didn’t know who, then yesterday she found these.’ He indicated the photographs. ‘She knows now that it’s you, that it’s always been you. She said she’s had enough, can’t stand it any more, so she’s gone. But I don’t care, Rachel, because that leaves me much more time to be able to see you.’

  With a muffled exclamation Rachel tried to get past him but he was too fast for her, barring the door and her only escape route. ‘Philip...’ She took a deep breath. ‘Please, let me go,’ she said, striving to keep her voice as calm as possible and not give any indication of the panic she was feeling.

  ‘I’m getting a bit tired of only being able to email you,’ he went on, totally ignoring her request, ‘and you didn’t even bother to answer me.’

  She stared at him. ‘It was you,’ she said, and the words seemed to stick in her throat.

  ‘Of course it was me,’ he said, kicking the door shut behind him. ‘Who did you think it was—that Kowalski creep? I thought I’d put paid to him once before, but now he’s back, sniffing around you again.’

  At his words everything seemed to click into place but Rachel felt paralysed and utterly speechless, knowing now that she was probably dealing with a man with a deadly obsession that had haunted him for years.

  ‘I love you,’ he said. ‘I’ve always loved you. We grew up together at Ashton House. We were always together, you and I.’

  ‘We were children, Philip...’ she protested.

  ‘We were always meant to be together,’ he argued, and there was an edge of anger in his voice now. ‘If you hadn’t started going out with Kowalski everything would have been all right, but then you went away and I didn’t see you for years. I met Julie...she wanted to get married. I told her there was someone else, someone who I would always love, and she said it didn’t matter, that she understood. But then you came back, Rachel, you came back for me. It’s all meant to be, don’t you see?’ He took a step towards her, reaching out for her, and she backed away, putting up her hands to ward him off.

  ‘Philip, don’t do this,’ she said desperately. ‘Think about...your mother...’

  ‘My mother liked you,’ he said. ‘She always said what a lovely daughter-in-law you would make.’

  ‘But she wouldn’t like this, Philip, you driving Julie away and tricking me into coming here...she wouldn’t like that at all...’

  ‘I don’t care,’ he said. ‘I’ve got you here now. This is all I’ve ever dreamed of, all I’ve ever wanted.’ He moved forward and attempted to pull her into his arms. She twisted frantically to try to get away from him.

  ‘We’ll be happy, Rachel,’ he said, ‘just you and me, and later we could have a baby. I bet I could get you pregnant.’

  That was the moment that Rachel lost her composure completely and screamed at the top of her voice. Philip tried to silence her, then the next moment all hell seemed to break loose as the door burst open and the room was suddenly full of people. Uniformed police officers were everywhere, Terry Payne was there, and Nick—Nick who pulled Rachel roughly into his arms and held her while two policemen restrained Philip. Terry arrested and cautioned him and he was led away, out of the room, down the stairs and into a waiting squad car.

  ‘Oh, Nick.’ Rachel leaned weakly against him, the tears pouring down her cheeks. ‘Oh, thank God you came. I thought...I
really thought...’

  ‘Don’t,’ he said softly against her hair, ‘not now. Later. Let’s get you home now.’

  * * *

  ‘But how did you know?’ It was much later and Rachel and Nick were at the house in Cathedral Close. Rachel had taken a hot shower while Nick had lit a fire to take the edge off the damp chill of the autumn evening and now, wrapped in a warm bathrobe, Rachel reached up and took the glass of brandy that Nick passed to her.

  ‘I had an inkling,’ he said, sitting beside her on the sofa and cradling his own glass of brandy in his hands. ‘Not about the emails, of course, because I thought we had that tied up, but about the letter. I had found myself thinking that it had to have been written by someone who was around at the time, someone who knew you very well, well enough to forge your handwriting, and someone who also knew me, and all about our situation. I cast my mind right back to those days and for some reason I thought of Philip Newton.’

  ‘You did?’ She turned her head and looked at him in surprise. The only light in the room was that of the fire.

  ‘Yes.’ He nodded. ‘He was always around, wasn’t he? Whenever I came to Ashton House he was lurking around the garden or the drive.’

  ‘Well, he did live there with his mother,’ Rachel said slowly. ‘They had a flat at the top of the house for all the years that Elsie Newton was our housekeeper.’

  ‘So he would have known all the comings and goings in the house?’

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose he would,’ she admitted.

  ‘And did you and he spend a lot of time together?’

  ‘We used to play together as children,’ she said, her forehead wrinkling as she tried to recall those days. ‘He used to come to my birthday parties—that sort of thing. I think my mother felt sorry for him, what with his father going off and leaving them when Philip was only five.’

  ‘Did you know he’d formed an attachment to you?’ asked Nick.

  Rachel frowned again. ‘I suppose I was aware of it,’ she admitted at last. ‘He used to follow me around and once when we were about ten or eleven he said that one day we would get married. But then when I went away to school I guess I never thought any more about it. He did ask me out once, now that I think of it, and I...I turned him down.’

  ‘Goodness knows what that did to him,’ said Nick grimly. ‘My guess is he didn’t take rejection too well.’

  Rachel took a sip of her brandy. ‘Honestly, Nick,’ she said after a moment, ‘it never crossed my mind since coming back here that it was him...that he could be responsible...’ She bit her lip and trailed off, staring into the fire as she relived those terrifying moments in Philip’s house.

  The only sound in the room was the crackling of a log that Nick had thrown onto the fire. ‘How...how did you know where to find me?’ asked Rachel at last, looking up at Nick.

  ‘Well, like I say, I’d already had an inkling that he might have been responsible for writing that letter,’ Nick admitted, ‘then when I got your message about receiving another email I went straight to the medical centre. They told me you were out on an emergency. When I asked where you had gone they seemed reluctant to tell me—patient confidentiality and all that—but Bruce Mitchell overheard the conversation and he stepped in. As soon as I told him I feared you might be in danger, he told me that you’d been called to the Newtons’ house. I knew then for certain that my hunch had been correct. I radioed in for back-up and the rest you know.’

  ‘Oh, Nick.’ She rested her head on his shoulder. ‘If you hadn’t come...’

  ‘Don’t,’ he said firmly, slipping one arm around her and holding her tightly, ‘don’t even think about it.’

  ‘What will happen to him?’ asked Rachel after a moment.

  ‘He’s up before the magistrates tomorrow for stalking.’

  ‘But he’s sick. He needs help, Nick.’

  ‘Yes, I know—I imagine there will be recommendations for psychiatric reports before it goes any further.’

  ‘I feel sorry for Julie,’ said Rachel after a moment. ‘He said she knew he had a fixation with someone from the start but that she was prepared to accept the situation—then I came back to Westhampstead.’ She paused. ‘She didn’t know it was me even then—to think we’ve been working together...’ She shook her head.

  ‘Did he say how she found out?’ asked Nick.

  ‘He said she found the photographs. She must have snapped, Nick. He said she’d left him and gone back to her mother. It must have been pretty spooky for her, finding all those photographs—there were dozens of them right back from when I was a child. Most of them had been blown right up...well, you know, you saw them. Oh, Nick, maybe I shouldn’t have come back.’ Her voice shook.

  ‘Nonsense,’ he said firmly. ‘Of course you should have come back—the fact that Philip Newton chose to destroy his marriage by stalking you is no one’s fault but his own. I rather suspect that Julie might have discovered his weird ways long before you came back. She may not have known it was you, but she must have realised that the man she was married to had some very odd habits.’

  ‘He must have got my email address from Julie,’ Rachel said slowly, then with a little start she said, ‘Although, no, perhaps not. There was a time he came to the surgery with Julie and he would have been on his own in my consulting room while I was examining her—it would have been easy for him to look up my address on the computer. And on another occasion,’ she added, as the memories flooded back, ‘he was selling raffle tickets for the Michaelmas Fair—I can remember filling in all my details, including my address and phone number. He was clever, Nick, and very devious.’

  ‘You’re right.’ He took another sip of his brandy. ‘And going back all those years ago to that letter, he must have found samples of your handwriting around Ashton House, even an old envelope from a letter you’d sent home, and practised copying it until he had it so perfect that even I was fooled. He must also have travelled to London to post it so that the postmark would have been right.’

  ‘And the flowers,’ said Rachel. ‘He must have heard that yellow roses were my favourite flowers when he was at Ashton House.’

  ‘That’s just the sort of thing someone like him would remember,’ said Nick.

  ‘And it was him sitting outside here late at night,’ said Rachel with a shudder. ‘I could only see a shadow sitting in the passenger’s seat—at the time I thought the driver, whoever he was, was visiting someone in a house in the close. I realise now that it was because he would have been seen in the streetlight if he had been sitting on the other side. He saw you leave here that night, Nick...’ She began to shake and gently he extricated the glass from her fingers and, setting it down on a low table beside the sofa, turned and gathered her into his arms.

  ‘It’s all right,’ he said softly against her hair, ‘it’s all right, Rachel, really it is. The nightmare’s over now. I’m here...’

  He held her close for a long time as they sat there in the flickering light of the fire.

  ‘To think I blamed my mother...’ said Rachel at last, breaking the silence.

  ‘You mustn’t forget the fact that your mother didn’t like me,’ protested Nick mildly, ‘and she did tell you that I was seeing someone else when I wasn’t.’

  ‘And Tommy—poor Tommy Page. I even blamed him...’ Rachel shook her head in distress. ‘I still think it might have been better for everyone if I’d never come back to Westhampstead,’ she added shakily.

  ‘Do you know what I think?’ said Nick, tilting her chin and looking deeply into her eyes. ‘I think you shouldn’t have gone away in the first place. I think we should have stayed together all those years ago then no one and nothing would have ever come between us.’

  ‘So are you saying that we’ve had our chance, that it’s too late for us now?’ she said. Lifting her hand with one finger she gently traced a line down his face and across his lips.

  ‘I’m not saying anything of the sort,’ he replied. Catching her hand with one of
his own, he held it, imprisoning it against his face. ‘What I am saying is that I believe we’re being given a second chance—that this is our time now. We were meant to be, Rachel, you know that as well as I do.’

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered, ‘I know.’

  ‘So is that how it is going to be from now on? You and me together against the world?’

  ‘Yes, but with one exception.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘A lot of the time it will be you, me and Lucy,’ she said.

  ‘Bless you for that,’ he murmured, and quite suddenly his voice was unexpectedly husky. Then his arms tightened around her again. ‘I love you, Rachel,’ he said. ‘I’ve always loved you.’

  ‘I love you, too,’ she replied, and as the log suddenly spluttered and fell apart, sending sparks shooting up the chimney, with a deep sigh of satisfaction she slid her arms around his neck and drew his face towards her own, knowing as she did so with a sudden deep certainty that from that moment onwards everything really was going to be all right.

  * * * * *

  ISBN-13: 9781460377123

  THE POLICE DOCTOR’S DISCOVERY

  Copyright © 2015 by Laura MacDonald

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.