Evil Games

by Angela Marsons

  Alex looked for a reaction to the triggers she’d mentioned but saw none. Her trauma lay elsewhere.

  ‘As a psychiatrist, I accept that people are broken. Psychologically, some of us are injured for a short period of time following a loss.’ She looked over at the gravestone of good old Arthur, and swallowed bravely. ‘And we find a way back, never to normality, but we mend as best we can.’

  ‘Who’s over there?’ the detective asked, without finesse or apology for the directness of the question.

  Alex sighed deeply. ‘You saw the photos on my desk. My family, killed three years ago in a car crash.’ Alex’s voice broke on the last few words. She could sense the woman’s discomfort. She raised her head and stared forward. ‘Grief does strange things to you.’ Alex thought she saw a reaction and pressed on. Any response just whetted her appetite for more and she had plenty of heat-seeking missiles in her pocket. ‘I don’t think one ever truly comes to terms with a loss.’

  The woman offered no encouragement but Alex persevered anyway.

  ‘I lost a sister very young.’

  Aah, a noticeable bristle. Now they were getting somewhere. ‘We were very close, almost best friends. There was only two years between us.’

  The lack of response or encouragement to carry on was infuriating. Alex decided she needed to give them something in common.

  ‘After she drowned, my sleeping patterns changed drastically. I’ve never slept for more than three to four hours a night. I’ve been tested, examined, prodded and monitored. For my trouble, I got a nice name for my condition but no cure.’

  Truthfully, Alex slept for seven hours solidly every night but the hours parked outside this woman’s house indicated that the detective did not.

  ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking like this. I’m sure you want to get back to your family.’

  The woman beside her shrugged. Still she hadn’t engaged verbally and yet she remained on the bench.

  Alex laughed ruefully and toyed nervously with the belt on her jacket. ‘Even psychiatrists sometimes need someone to talk to. Loss changes us all. I’ve learned to fill the long hours of the day productively. I write up notes, research, use the Internet, but sometimes it feels like the night will never end.’

  A slight nod. Every reaction, however small, told Alex something.

  She noticed a small change in the demeanour of her companion. The body had turned slightly in on itself, like a sandwich left uncovered. It could have been an effort to protect herself against the biting wind, but Alex knew otherwise.

  She decided on a no-lose gamble.

  ‘May I ask who …?’

  ‘Nice chatting, Doc. See you later.’

  Alex watched as the detective strode back to her car, got into the Golf and sped out of the grounds.

  She smiled as she removed the stone from her shoe and headed up the hill. The woman’s actions in beating a hasty retreat were as significant as a lengthy conversation. Alex had learned plenty and was beginning to get the measure of her opponent.

  Detective Inspector Kim Stone was socially inept. She lacked the manners that if not naturally present could easily be learned, if required. She was driven and intelligent. It was possible she had been sexually abused but she had definitely experienced tragedy and loss. She didn’t enjoy physical contact and didn’t care who knew it.

  Alex reached the gravestone she’d been aiming for. She read the simple inscription and made no effort to hide her pleasure.

  Solving any puzzle involved methodical, logical stages. First came the eagerness to get started, followed by an understanding of the enormity of the challenge ahead. Next comes the focused concentration required to make headway, the commitment to achieving the end goal.

  Finally, the most exciting part: the point at which the next piece you fit will be instrumental in the completion of the entire puzzle.

  Alex reread the information engraved gold on red and knew she’d found a key piece of the puzzle.

  TWENTY-SIX

  The doorbell sounded and Kim didn’t have to ask who was at the door as she undid the chain.

  ‘The Missus made too much lasagne.’ He shrugged. ‘She insisted.’

  Kim smiled. ‘The Missus’ sent round a home-cooked meal every other week and was as charitable in nature as her husband.

  Kim remembered some months earlier when Bryant had rescued a Staffordshire bull terrier and her pups from a flat on the notorious Hollytree estate. The puppies had been saved from a life of dog fighting and the mother from constant litters until her ultimate fate as bait in the dog ring.

  The Bryant family had reared the pups and found them homes with family and friends, keeping the mother for themselves.

  ‘So, what do you really want?’ she asked, reaching for a second mug.

  ‘Well, I’ve been thinking …’

  She smacked her brow. ‘Bryant, I’ve told you about dangerous activity.’

  He narrowed his gaze. ‘Kim, did you just make a funny?’

  She shrugged.

  ‘I think you need to let the Ruth Willis case go. You seem obsessed with Doctor Thorne and it’s not going to do you any good.’

  ‘Oh really, well guess who I bumped into today?’ Kim was careful not to say where. For some reason the conversation she’d had earlier with the doctor had replayed itself in her head over and over but she was unsure why.

  ‘Surprise me.’

  ‘Doctor Thorne. She asked how Ruth was.’

  Bryant shrugged. ‘As you would expect, I suppose.’

  ‘Hmmm …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘What don’t you know?’

  ‘She had quite a lot to say.’

  ‘About Ruth?’

  ‘Not really, more about herself.’

  ‘What sort of things?’

  ‘That her family died, she doesn’t sleep much, she has few friends …’

  ‘Are you two best mates now?’

  ‘There’s just something … strange.’

  Bryant sniggered. ‘Rich, coming from you.’

  ‘Okay, forget it.’

  ‘I’m sorry, go on, strange how?’

  Kim was trying to work that one out herself. Maybe if she used Bryant as a sounding board it would make sense to her and then she could forget it.

  ‘The things she said, the way she said them. Statements about herself that seemed like she was trying to get something from me. Do you know what I mean?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why would she tell me so much about herself?’

  ‘Perhaps you caught her at a weak moment and she felt drawn to you.’

  Kim could concede that was possible. The conversation had taken place in the cemetery.

  ‘Yeah, but I got the impression that the chat was for my benefit rather than hers.’

  ‘Did she ask you any questions, pry into your life?’

  ‘Not directly, but …’

  ‘Is it possible that she was feeling vulnerable or that she was simply trying to engage you in a conversation?’

  ‘I suppose, but …’

  ‘Look, Kim, people meet and chat. They talk about themselves and then you talk about yourself. It’s called making an acquaintance. Truthfully, dogs have it easier. They simply sniff each other’s …’

  ‘Enough.’ Okay, she knew she wasn’t good at making friends but she just knew when something didn’t feel right.

  ‘I’m serious. You might not know this but it’s normally how people get to know each other. They converse. In some rare cases I’ve heard it said that they can eventually become friends.’

  Kim dismissed this. ‘There’s something else.’

  ‘Of course there is.’

  ‘There’s something about her that’s not quite … real.’

  ‘How so?’

  Kim searched her memory for an example. ‘Did you ever see that program, Faking It?’

  ‘Where people were given a crash course in something l
ike brain surgery and had to try and fool experts at the end of the show?’

  Kim nodded. ‘It’s like that. It’s as though Alex is acting through the emotions. They’re registering on her face but nowhere else. She takes them out one at a time and the pause in between is just blank. It’s weird.’

  ‘Kim, I say this with respect as you are my boss and I’m the closest thing to a friend you’ve got …’ Bryant paused, seeking permission to continue.

  Her lack of response was her answer.

  ‘ … but I’m not too sure that you’re the best judge of anyone’s demonstration of emotional response.’

  Kim wasn’t hurt by his words. Truth didn’t upset her and she had to concede he had a point.

  ‘Why is the conversation still bothering you?’

  Kim thought for a moment. ‘I honestly don’t know.’

  ‘Just let it go. You’re never going to see her again so it has no impact on your life.’

  Bryant’s reassurances hadn’t worked. A niggle remained that she hadn’t yet seen the last of Alexandra Thorne.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  It was almost nine when Alex closed the front door behind her. The house was in total darkness.

  She headed through the hallway into the kitchen. After leaving the cemetery she had nipped to Marks & Spencer and picked up a ’96 Chateau Lascombes. She’d earned it.

  Alex placed the bottle onto the marble worktop and paused. Something was not quite right. Immediately, she was hit by the smell. She looked around. An unpleasant odour filled the room. She took another sniff but couldn’t identify any particular element. It was foul and it was all around her.

  ‘Goodness, what died in here?’ she muttered to herself, as she opened the six foot door to the combined fridge freezer.

  The bottom tray held a half bag of mixed salad that she’d opened earlier in the day. There was no milk as she rarely used it and everything else was in sealed containers.

  She swung the heavy door closed. Her heart jumped into her mouth as her eyes met with those of the figure stood right in front of her.

  Stunned, she stepped backwards.

  ‘Shane … wh— what the …’

  Shane grabbed her upper arm to prevent her moving away from him. ‘Hello, Doctor. Have you missed me?’

  Alex tried to slow her erratic breathing and get her bearings. Shane was here, in her house. How the fuck had that happened? Shane no longer even entered her thoughts.

  His grip on her arm was firm, his eyes calm and controlled.

  He towered above her by a good ten inches. He moved closer and the stench filled her nostrils. Nausea rolled around her stomach. It was a mixture of body odour, damp and stale food.

  She gagged but kept her lunch the right side of her throat.

  She tried to pull free of his hand but it was strong and determined. ‘Shane, what the hell are you doing here?’

  Alex wondered if the tremor in her voice was as clear to Shane as it was to her. She didn’t know him well enough to gauge the full extent of his capabilities. But she had manipulated him once, could she do it again?

  ‘I’ve come to punish you, Alex.’

  Alex swallowed. His expression was cold. He didn’t look like the vulnerable little boy anymore. He looked like a man. A real one.

  She said nothing. She had no clue what was running through his head. She needed to think of a strategy. If she could just reach her mobile phone …

  As the thought occurred to her, Shane reached behind for her handbag with his free hand. He upturned it so the contents spilled onto the dining table, then took her phone and placed it in his pocket.

  Shane used his grip to push her back against the kitchen counter. He loosed her arm and placed each hand to the side of her, trapping her in that position.

  She considered her options. She could try and raise her knee and thrust it between his legs in the hope he would fall to the ground. That would give her enough time to get to the door, unlock the bolts and chain and get out. Fantastic if it worked but not if she couldn’t get enough force behind the action. She’d seen what he’d done to Malcolm and he’d killed his abusive uncle with his own bare hands.

  She decided on a different approach.

  She swallowed her fear and smiled at him flirtatiously. ‘I have missed you, Shane.’

  His head moved slowly back, his mouth forming a look of mild distaste.

  Bad idea. She backtracked quickly and tried to look earnest. ‘I really have.’

  Shane shook his head. ‘You’re a liar and a bitch. Before I met you I had a chance at a life. David gave me a roof over my head and those guys understood me. They were friends. And now I’ve lost them. I’ve lost everything because of you.’

  She tried to keep her breathing even. She opened her mouth.

  ‘Don’t speak,’ he instructed. ‘Everything that comes out of your mouth is fucking bullshit. You made me believe I could be normal. You convinced me that I could feel clean and whole and you knew all along that I couldn’t.’

  Lines too deep for a twenty-three-year-old furrowed his brow. ‘And you used me to hurt Malcolm. I don’t know why you did that but I hurt him real bad because of you. I think you damage people, Alex, and then walk away untouched, but not this time.’

  Alex’s heart missed a beat. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what he was going to do to her. In a physical fight he held all the cards, but the psychological playing field was a different battle altogether.

  ‘I really trusted you, you know. I thought you were my friend and now I’ve lost everything because of you.’

  She tried not to flinch as his right hand reached up and touched her cheek. ‘So, clean, so beautiful, so perfect.’

  Shane’s coarse skin against her own almost choked her but she kept her expression benign. There was a wistfulness in his face that she recognised from many of her patients. There was still something he wanted, craved.

  She needed to reach out to the little boy. Her safety depended on it.

  She took a gamble and lightly touched his left hand. His jaw tensed but he didn’t remove his hand.

  And, finally she had her strategy. She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘I’m so glad you found me, Shane.’

  His eyes bored into hers.

  She ploughed on, forcing the fear from her voice. ‘I’ve been looking so hard for you. I went back to the house early the next morning to see if you were okay and David told me you’d gone. I wanted to say sorry for being mean to you. I was just angry at what you’d done to Malcolm.’ She shook her head. ‘I thought we had a connection. I thought I could help you.’

  The brief shadow of indecision slowed her rapidly beating heart and she pushed on. ‘All those hours we spent together I thought we’d been making progress. I thought you believed in me, but when I saw the state of Malcolm it was as though our time together had meant nothing.’

  He shook his head slowly but his right hand fell to the side, away from her face.

  ‘Come on, Shane. You felt it too. We had a friendship. I shouldn’t have said what I said.’ She looked down and shook her head. ‘It was cruel and it wasn’t even true.’

  ‘What wasn’t true?’

  ‘That I couldn’t help you.’

  Total confusion now contorted his face. ‘But you said …’

  ‘I know what I said, Shane. But I was wrong to say that. It was only because I was angry at you. Of course I can help you. That’s why I walked the streets the following night looking for you.’

  ‘But …’

  The balance had tipped. She moved out of his space and then turned, holding out her hand. She was back in control and this would end her way.

  ‘Come with me and I’ll start helping you now.’

  He stayed where he was.

  The danger had passed. Enough confusion had been caused to distract his rage. The little boy had resurfaced.

  Alex coaxed him forward and led him to the consultation room.

  ‘I’ll put on the desk
lamp, it’s more comforting.’

  She reached to the side of her desk and switched it on. Another button sat to the right of it. She pushed it twice.

  The room was bathed in a low, intimate glow. She led Shane to the patient’s chair. He sat.

  A few minutes; that’s all it would take. Help was less than a mile away. She needed closure to this particular subject and the plan was now crystal in her mind.

  She removed her jacket and placed it on the table between them. ‘Do you want me to start helping you, Shane?’ she asked, gently.

  He said nothing but simply stared at her.

  ‘If you let me, I can make it all go away. We can start now and then in a little while I’ll call David and you can go back to Hardwick House. Is that what you want?’

  He looked doubtful. ‘Can I?’

  She nodded emphatically. ‘Of course you can. You chose to leave. Your room is still there for you.’

  He looked at her disbelievingly. ‘You’d do that?’

  She smiled reassuringly. ‘Shane, I would do anything to help you. You are my friend.’

  His face collapsed and his head dropped into his hands. ‘Oh, God, Alex. I’m so sorry for what I’ve done. I thought I hated you. I thought you hated me. I thought I was so dirty that you couldn’t even stand to be near me.’

  ‘Don’t be so silly,’ she said, as though he was five years old. ‘Now close your eyes and focus only on my voice.’

  He sat back in the chair and closed his eyes.

  She rolled up the right sleeve of her blouse. Without taking her eyes from his firmly closed lids, she began pinching the skin on her forearm with her left hand.

  ‘First of all, just relax and clear your mind. I’m going to help take some of the pain away.’

  His face relaxed and his jaws slackened. Alex smiled as she rolled up the sleeve on her left arm. She continued talking to Shane in a calm, soothing voice as she dug a fingernail into the skin as hard as she could. She traced a line to her wrist. It was a diagonal line with the skin broken in places. Already it looked worse than it actually was.

  ‘You have to let your hatred go, Shane. I can help you put the past behind you. I can help to make you feel clean again.’