Dark Fragments: a fast paced psychological thriller

by Rob Sinclair

  ‘Do you know where Cara Andrews has been taken?’ I asked. ‘She was brought in here a few hours ago but I think she’s been taken to a ward.’

  The receptionist gave me a hesitant look and then typed away on her computer.

  ‘Are you family?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m her husband.’

  The receptionist looked up and took a moment too long to scan my battered face before she spoke.

  ‘Ward three, down the corridor,’ she said, pointing off to the left, away from the A&E assessment area from where I’d come.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said.

  I headed toward the ward, again checking around me for Powell. I was so on edge. I wanted to see Cara, but I didn’t know what she had told the police of the attack. If she was lucid enough, they were sure to have questioned her, and she had no reason not to tell the police that the attack wasn’t random, which is what I had alluded to with Powell, and that I’d known the attackers. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want the police tracking down Coonan and Egan before I did.

  I was a little surprised Dani hadn’t been there at the hospital to greet me – or reprimand me more like. Perhaps because it was the middle of the night the word hadn’t yet spread that her brother had been attacked by members of O’Brady’s gang. That was fine by me. I didn’t need Dani’s help for what was to come.

  I found the ward. The double-doors that led into it were security-locked. I pressed the button for the intercom and waited. When the call was answered I again said I was Cara’s husband and a second later the door clicked unlocked. I walked in and saw a gaggle of hospital workers, trainees I assumed, working their way toward me with a casually dressed consultant in front. The timing was perfect and meant I was able to coolly walk past the reception desk at the same time they did without any further questioning from the receptionist.

  As I walked further down the corridor it wasn’t too hard to figure out which room Cara was in. There was a police officer stationed outside, sitting on a chair with her head resting against the wall.

  As I approached she straightened up and got to her feet.

  ‘You?’ she said, a look of incredulity on her face.

  ‘Me?’ I said, bemused.

  I quickly realised she was either one of the officers who had been on the scene or she had seen me in the hospital already.

  ‘You’ve been discharged?’ she asked. ‘Where’s Powell?’

  I ignored both questions. She wouldn’t have liked the answers. ‘I need to speak to Cara.’

  ‘She’s resting.’

  I looked through the open doorway and spotted Cara lying on the bed. White sheets were draped over her body and a cannula was attached to her hand. Her eyes were shut and her face was ghostly white, except for her fat, purple bottom lip and her nose, which had turned almost black with bruising.

  ‘I didn’t catch your name?’ I said, trying to sound relaxed and in control.

  ‘It’s PC Trent.’

  ‘Is she okay?’

  ‘I’m not a doctor, but I’ve been led to believe she should be fine. Eventually.’

  ‘I really need to speak to her.’

  ‘She’s sedated. I’m not sure you can.’

  I stared at Cara. The noise from my conversation with Trent was making her stir. She shuffled and murmured and then slowly opened her eyes.

  ‘Please?’ I said.

  ‘Her husband is here,’ Trent said. ‘I’m really not sure you should be.’

  I looked into the officer’s eyes but said nothing. I could see she didn’t trust me. I couldn’t be sure what she knew of the story of the attack, of my relationship with Cara, but whatever she knew, it was clear I wasn’t welcome.

  It riled me, though, that she assumed Cara’s husband was more welcome than I was. Cara was only still married because he refused to sign his divorce papers.

  Just as I was about to turn to leave, Cara came to. She sat up in the bed, rubbing her eyes. She looked over and her gaze caught mine. I looked back at her pleadingly. My heart melted to see her so scared and hurt.

  ‘I think you should go,’ Trent said to me, holding out an arm and blocking my way into the room.

  ‘Cara. Please?’ I said.

  I saw a tear escape from her eye. ‘Go away,’ she said, beginning to sob. ‘Just leave me alone.’

  ‘No. We have to talk. I’m so sorry for what happened, but we have to talk.’

  ‘No!’ she shouted. ‘No, Ben. Not now. Not ever. I never want to see you again.’

  ‘You heard her,’ the officer said.

  ‘You can’t mean that?’ I said, desperation in my voice.

  I pushed Trent’s arm out of the way and went to move into the room. Trent grabbed me, twisted my arm into a hammerlock and pushed me up against the wall – a move much like the one Dani had delivered not too long ago. I grimaced in pain.

  ‘She said she doesn’t want to speak to you,’ Trent blasted. ‘And I told you already, you shouldn’t be here.’

  ‘Let go of me!’

  Trent held me for a few seconds longer. I didn’t try to fight back, didn’t try to resist at all.

  ‘I’m going to let go,’ Trent said, ‘and then you’re going to walk away from here. Right?’

  ‘Right.’

  Trent let go and stepped back. I nursed my arm for a second, looking over at Cara. She’d turned away and was staring out of the window.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

  She said nothing in return, didn’t even acknowledge my words. There really was little more I could do. Reluctantly, I turned and walked away.

  I was hurt. I hadn’t expected that reaction from Cara, her stock dismissal of me. And I was angry. With her. With O’Brady. With Egan and Coonan. And, for some unclear reason, with the person I saw entering the ward as I headed down the corridor.

  I’d never met him before but somehow I knew who he was. And vice versa, he seemed to clock me.

  Our eyes met as he stepped through the ward doors and he stopped in his tracks, his face full of disdain. He opened his mouth to speak to me, but I brushed past him out through the doors.

  ‘Hey, I’m not finished with you!’ he shouted, scurrying after me.

  He pulled on my shoulder, spinning me around to face him. When he saw my snarling face, it knocked him right back down again.

  ‘Stay away from my wife,’ he said, only half as confident as he had been a second before.

  ‘Or what?’

  ‘Or nothing. Just do it.’

  ‘She’s the only one who gets to decide,’ I said. I went to move away but Dean Andrews grabbed my arm again.

  ‘She doesn’t want you,’ Andrews said. ‘Get that into your thick head.’

  Well, I could have argued that point all day long. As it was, the emotion of the situation got the better of me. I lunged for Andrews, grabbed him by the throat and pushed him backward against the wall.

  ‘Touch me again and it’ll be the last thing you ever do,’ I growled.

  Andrews squirmed, trying to break free, my own strength surprising both of us.

  ‘Just leave her alone,’ he wheezed.

  I held the grip tight on his neck and the look of panic in Andrews’ eyes began to grow. But what was I going to do – choke him to death right there in the hospital? What would that achieve?

  Reason got the better of me and I let go.

  Andrews slumped down. I turned and began to walk away again. I just wanted to leave that place. But Andrews hadn’t finished. He still had plenty of salt and he wasn’t going to stop until he’d rubbed it all into my open wounds.

  ‘I knew she was having an affair,’ Andrews called out to me. His words had the desired effect and I stopped again, though I didn’t turn to face him. ‘I knew it. She was so happy all of a sudden. Her old self again. In a strange way I was happy for her. I love her. But with someone like you? Look at you. You’re a loser.’

  I clenched my fists. I wanted to turn back around and finish the weasel off, but
I had to stay strong.

  I took a step further away, but Andrews just wouldn’t let up. He was egging me on. Pushing for a reaction.

  ‘She was pregnant,’ he said. His words once again stopped me in my tracks. ‘It was mine.’

  I turned to face him, my heart in my mouth. I was stunned by the revelation. And confused. And saddened. Still I said nothing.

  ‘Can you believe that?’ he said. ‘We’d been trying for so long. It tore us apart. We’d split up because of it. She wanted to move on. She was just so desperate to have children.’

  I closed my eyes, imagining her pain.

  ‘But I would never give up on her,’ Andrews said. ‘I would chase her forever. I’ve always believed in her. In us. All she ever wanted was kids. She was pregnant when she was attacked. She didn’t even know. The doctors only found out when they were examining her. She’s lost it. She’s lost our baby because of you.’

  I stared at Andrews. I wanted to lash out at him, but it wouldn’t have been right. I’d never met the man before, but I’d already hurt him so much. Cara too. And what had happened to her … I would never forgive myself.

  I spotted movement over Andrews’ shoulder and looked past him to see Powell emerging from around the corner.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry she was hurt. I really am.’

  ‘Just stay away from her,’ Andrews said. ‘From her and from me.’

  I said nothing more, just turned and left.

  I hated myself for what had happened to Cara. I’d caused her so much agony. She was a good person. She didn’t deserve that.

  Her suffering wouldn’t go unpunished, though. I was absolutely convinced of that.

  CHAPTER 54

  ‘You must have known that Cara would end up getting hurt?’ she said.

  ‘Beaten up and raped? I’m not sure how you could expect me to foresee that.’

  ‘I didn’t mean that. But you seeing Cara could only ever have ended in pain for her, one way or another, couldn’t it? You were in so deep already with O’Brady. And the situation with you and Gemma was far from clear.’

  ‘I know. You’re right. But maybe Cara and I really could have been something. Who knows? Perhaps she would have left Andrews for good and we would have been happy together.’

  ‘Do you really believe that? She was pregnant with his child.’

  ‘Yeah, but they had split up. I don’t know. It sounds nice, though, doesn’t it? That we may have been happy together. Too nice, I guess. Like something that would never happen for me.’

  ‘You could have broken it off, the affair with Cara. When you realised you cared for her, to stop her getting hurt.’

  ‘But I couldn’t. I wanted to see her. It was as simple as that. With Gemma gone and no prospect I could see of that ever working out, Cara was exactly what I thought I needed. I wanted to be with her.’

  ‘But you were bringing her into a dangerous world.’

  ‘I know. But that didn’t alter the way I felt about Cara. I liked her for who she was, and I thought she felt the same.’

  ‘So you don’t think that now?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I was surprised at how easily she was able to remove me from her life.’

  ‘Why did that surprise you? She’d been attacked and raped because of you. She lost a baby too.’

  I winced at her words. ‘It surprised me because I thought Cara’s feelings for me were genuine. Even when someone causes you pain, if you love them enough, you can’t turn off the switch just like that.’

  ‘Do you not think perhaps she did have feelings for you, but she had to push you away? That it was a struggle for her to do so, but that was the only course she could see?’

  ‘Maybe. In a way I hope so.’

  ‘You said she was pregnant when she was attacked.’

  ‘That’s what I was told. I knew nothing about it. Andrews said that even she hadn’t known.’

  ‘What was your reaction on finding that out?’

  ‘I felt two things. On the one hand, I felt an intense sadness for Cara. She desperately wanted children – I can’t imagine the pain she must have felt on hearing she’d lost the baby like that. And I felt for the child too, for what might have been. It wasn’t my child, but it was still horrifying.’

  ‘And what was the other thing?’

  ‘Hatred. Possibly the purest hatred I had ever felt. I wanted blood. And I knew in that moment, walking away from Andrews in the hospital, that I was going to get it.’

  CHAPTER 55

  It was the middle of the night when I left the hospital and I was tired and confused. I had two missed calls and a voice message from Dani from earlier in the evening, before the attack. She wanted to speak to me about O’Brady. I could only assume that her lack of contact since then was because she still knew nothing of what had happened. That was good. I had to keep my distance from Dani, from all of them in fact. For now at least.

  I’d had no calls or messages from Gemma, though. That hurt. She would surely have heard about the attack? She was my next of kin. Whatever I thought of him, Andrews had been at Cara’s bedside almost immediately to be with his estranged wife. Gemma hadn’t even called or texted to check on me. She was finally showing her true colours.

  As was I.

  Initially I headed back to the hotel in Sutton – I needed my car – but the presence of a police panda car stationed in the hotel car park quickly stopped that plan. I couldn’t be sure exactly why the police were at the hotel looking for me. Perhaps it was simply a coincidence. I wasn’t about to go and find out.

  Instead, I headed back to the house. My Yamaha was parked in the garage. I didn’t know whether anyone would be home, and even if they were, they’d probably be asleep. Either way, I wasn’t planning on saying hello. I wondered whether another police car might be stationed there too. Luckily there wasn’t one.

  There were no lights on in the house as I approached, no signs of life at all. I opened the garage and quietly rolled my bike out onto the road. After shutting the garage door, I sat on my bike and looked up at the family home. An immense feeling of guilt and regret built up in me as I thought of all the hope there had once been when we’d first moved there as a family.

  It had all been a lie, though, nothing more than a far-fetched dream. Sitting on my bike, staring up at the house, I realised with absolute certainty that the dream would never come true now.

  There would be no more pretending. No more hiding who I really was. It was time to take back control.

  I fired up the engine and pulled on the throttle and the bike edged forward. I meandered along the streets of Sutton, soon moving out of the town and heading east toward the M42 motorway. My mind was bubbling away, though everything around me was serene.

  It took me the best part of an hour to reach the twisting country road where Callum O’Brady’s luxury home was located, on the outskirts of the leafy, wealthy village of Knowle. I’d only been to his house twice before. Each of those times I had been filled with discontent over my unwelcome but necessary alliance with the man. I’d also been worried for my personal safety, as I was every time I had met with O’Brady or his cronies.

  Not so this time.

  I parked the bike in a lay-by about a quarter of a mile from O’Brady’s house. There was no pavement, no streetlights, and the road was barely wide enough to allow two vehicles to pass. With pain coursing through my body – the painkillers I’d taken some hours ago were steadily wearing off – I kept to the overgrown verge as I walked on in the darkness. My hand nestled inside my jacket the whole way, caressing the cold, hard object that was tucked inside.

  Individual properties were dotted along the road, each with extensive plots and nearly all with high hedges, walls and gates screening them from passers-by.

  I came to a stop when I reached O’Brady’s gates. They were shut. I remembered from my last visit that the ornate eight-foot-high iron gates were electronically secured. Redbrick walls ran along across the
front of the grounds, stretching a good thirty yards either side of the gates. A small intercom box was attached to the wall. I knew also that the house had bright security spotlights, though my presence by the outer gates had not yet triggered those.

  The security was about as tight as you’d expect for a rich man’s home. Not impregnable by any stretch, but certainly visible and deliberate.

  I looked through the gates toward the house, which was lit up with sympathetic, soft-glowing lighting that ran up the contoured driveway and around the main building. O’Brady’s home was stunning. It was a big, mock-Tudor design with black-painted timber and white render interspersing the red bricks. The lighting brought out all of the property’s charm, which was at complete odds with the character of its tasteless owner.

  Up the driveway, parked outside the house, I counted a total of four cars. One I recognised as O’Brady’s Range Rover – his pride and joy, a highly customised model that looked like an oversized boy racer’s plaything rather than an off-road vehicle. The other three cars I didn’t recognise, and they made me wonder whether O’Brady had company. I had assumed at least his wife would be home with him, but perhaps some of his gang was too.

  As I stood contemplating at the gates my ears caught the sound of a rumbling car engine in the near distance and my heart rate automatically quickened. I moved a couple of steps to my left, toward the wall and out of the faint beams of light that were coming through the gates.

  I watched as bobbing headlights came into view. I held my breath, my heart pounding, waiting to see whether the car would slow as it approached the gates, praying that it wasn’t more of O’Brady’s clan.

  As the car approached I was lit up for the world to see in the bright beams of the headlights for all of three seconds. It felt like a lifetime. To my relief, the vehicle thundered past, the slipstream smacking me in the face as it did so. I took a moment to get my heart and breathing back under control.

  When I was ready, I moved along the wall to where it abruptly came to an end at the far corner of the plot. Along the adjacent side of the property a dense tree-line marked the boundary with the adjoining farmer’s field, but there was no security. The outer wall with the locked gates was as much a visual deterrent as anything else.