Blind Fury

by Lynda La Plante

  “Just before the accident, we’d been out to celebrate; he’d gotten this new job in London working for a top security firm. He and his girlfriend were about to move—well, she did move; he’d been worried that he couldn’t get permission to take Rex with him. Dog handlers often have to wait for the animals to retire before they can ask to keep them as a pet.”

  Anna broke down in tears, and Ken looked at her, surprised. “What are you crying for?”

  “Because of what happened in my head. I couldn’t stop it, and now I feel disgusted, ashamed, because of what I thought.”

  “And what did you think?”

  Anna sniffed and then reached for a tissue from the bedside table. She explained to Ken about the coincidence, the blue blanket and the dog hairs, but before she could finish, he had thrown the duvet aside and gotten up.

  “Wait, just let me get this straight—because of evidence, forensic or whatever it was—you made a connection between me, the friggin’ dog, and a murder victim. Is that right? Am I right?”

  “It just happened; I couldn’t help it.”

  “You couldn’t help it?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He stood at the end of the bed wearing just his boxer shorts and staring at her in disbelief. He then leaned forward, dragging the duvet away from her. She was naked.

  “Go into the other bedroom,” he hissed. “I don’t want you here with me. Go on—get out. Get out!”

  “No, I won’t.”

  He reached forward and gripped her arm so tightly it hurt, but no matter how much she struggled, she couldn’t release herself. He dragged her to the door.

  “Don’t do this, please, Ken.”

  He pushed her away from him and picked up her nightdress.

  “Put this on and get out.”

  “No, I won’t.”

  He glared at her as she pulled on her nightdress. “Okay, stay and do what you like, but I’m out of here.”

  He picked up his jeans from the floor and started to get dressed. She went to him, wanting to put her arms around him, but he wouldn’t let her near him. She sat on the bed as he dragged on his T-shirt, zipping up the fly on his jeans.

  “You know, I really believed that we had something special, and you come here, sit with my parents—for what? Because you think that I have some connection with this sick case you are fucking working on.”

  “It isn’t like that.”

  “It isn’t?”

  “No, but I can’t help that it’s always in the back of my mind and—”

  “You keep me out of your mind from now on.”

  It was awful. He grabbed his bike boots and walked out, slamming the door. She ran after him, and Brenda came out onto the landing.

  “What’s happened?”

  Ken was by the front door with his leather jacket and bike helmet. “Go back to bed, Mum. It’s nothing. I have to leave.”

  “Please don’t go,” Anna said, heading after him down the stairs, but he’d already opened the door. She held on to it, still trying to persuade him not to leave, but he roughly pushed her away and slammed the door shut.

  Brenda came out of her room again as Anna began sobbing. Brenda knew her son had gone because she couldn’t help but hear his bike start up and roar off.

  “Whatever’s happened between you?” She was midway down the stairs.

  “Please just leave me alone—it was all my fault.”

  Roy appeared above them on the landing. Brenda looked up and told him that Ken had left.

  “I know that, I could hear his bike. What’s been going on?”

  Anna sat on the stairs, sobbing. Neither Brenda nor Roy seemed to know what to do, and then they looked shocked as Anna sprang to her feet.

  “I’m going after him.”

  “Don’t you think you should calm down, love?” Roy said.

  Anna ran past them to her room, not wanting to talk, just desperate to leave and follow Ken. They were still on the landing, full of concern, when she came out.

  “It was all my fault, but it’ll be all right.”

  Roy was moved. “You’re very upset. I don’t think you should drive.”

  “I’ll be all right, really, and I’m sorry this had to happen. He’s gone without his uniform, and I have to see him.”

  Brenda walked back down the stairs with her. “Don’t worry about his uniform. He’s got a spare in his flat—but I’m worried about you.”

  Anna put her arms around Brenda and hugged her tightly. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ll write to you.”

  They both watched her drive off too fast, and Roy closed the front door.

  “What on earth do you think sparked that off?” he asked as he put his arm around his wife.

  “I don’t know. They seemed so happy together, but you know Ken. How many girls has he split up from? He never seems able to keep one for more than a few months.”

  “I thought this one was different, but then what do we know?”

  Anna parked beside Ken’s motorbike. She’d driven erratically, veering between crying and angrily shouting at herself, but she managed to calm down enough to keep within the speed limit. All she cared about was making up with him.

  She hurried into the block of flats and ran up the stairs. She took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. She kept on ringing it, but he didn’t open the door. Next she banged on the door with the flat of her hand.

  “I know you are in there, Ken, and I am not leaving until you talk to me. KEN, OPEN THE DOOR!”

  But he didn’t. So she kept her hand on the doorbell for what seemed like an age before slumping down in the doorway. Next she took out her mobile phone and rang his, but he didn’t pick up. She kept on calling him until it was switched off. She got up again and hit the door, then kicked it.

  “Open the door, Ken.”

  A neighbor looked out. He saw her standing there and asked if she was all right. She apologized and said she was just waiting for Ken to let her in.

  “I hope he does soon, darlin’, as you’re waking up the whole block.”

  She went back and sat on the stairs, beginning to think that he was not going to give in. She still had her mobile phone in her hand, and after a while she texted a message to Mike Lewis. She was so tense and angry that it took some time. It was even hard to believe it herself as she left the text that the team should check into prison officers and security guards who were dog handlers, and to go as far back as when Cameron Welsh was under arrest and on trial.

  That done, she sat huddled on the stairs, and when she put her phone away, there by Ken’s photo was the envelope with her photograph that she’d forgotten to send to him. She had to have been sitting there for fifteen minutes before Ken finally opened his front door. She looked up at him.

  “You don’t give up easily, do you?” he said.

  “I won’t go away until we’ve talked. Please let me come in.”

  He stepped back into the flat, and she picked up her bag and followed him. He was sitting on the end of his bed, still in his jeans but barefoot. She felt like a schoolgirl, standing in the open doorway. She passed him the envelope. “I meant to post this to you.”

  He didn’t take it, so she threw it on the bed. He opened it and looked at the picture of her turning somersaults.

  “Very nice,” he said, tossing it aside.

  She didn’t know where to begin, and he didn’t make it easy, looking at his watch. “I have to be on duty tomorrow, so why don’t you say what you have to say so I can get some sleep.”

  “I don’t know where to begin.”

  “Try starting with what it feels like to think you know a woman, trust her, fall in love with her, and then find out she thinks you’re a murder suspect. You’ve brought her into your family, and all the time she was fucking checking out if . . .” He shook his head. “How could you be with me and even contemplate that I could not only be lying to you, but using you because I was some warped killer.”

  “I didn’t think
that.”

  “Of course you bloody did. Why don’t you admit it? To be so two-faced beggars belief.”

  “I’m not two-faced.”

  “Christ, you even admitted what you thought when you found the blue blanket—and what’s this about dog hairs? My best mate’s never going to have a life—what’s with you suspecting even him?”

  Anna stood in front of him, crying. She knew what he was saying was partly true, and she didn’t know how she could rectify the damage to their relationship.

  “I’ll go because I don’t see how I can make it up to you. All I can say is that . . .”

  “Say what? Always on duty, are you?”

  “Yes, if you must know. Yes, I am, or I used to be, but not with you.”

  He laughed, but it wasn’t humorous, it was cold laughter, and his eyes were still intensely angry.

  “Can I make a cup of coffee?” Anna asked.

  “No, you can just leave me alone and go back to London. I mean it, Anna. I can’t deal with this.”

  She went into his kitchen. She was shaking, and even though she didn’t want a coffee, she made one. She walked back to the bedroom; Ken was now in bed, leaving only a small bedside lamp on.

  “Do you want one?” she asked.

  He sighed and shook his head. She moved slowly into the room and then sat on the edge of the bed. She was hesitant at first, beginning to explain about her visits to Cameron Welsh, the ongoing interrogation of their only suspect, John Smiley, how they were attempting to build a case against him but how it continued to fall apart no matter what new developments implicated him.

  “I was told that the blanket found wrapped around Dorota Pelagia had German shepherd hairs, and we are certain it was one of the blankets issued to prisons.”

  He lay with his eyes closed.

  “Are you listening to me? Look, what happens is the trail of clues sort of fire up inside your brain. We’ve thought that our killer might even be a police officer or someone that the victims were able to immediately trust. Something clicked inside my head when I saw your friend in his security uniform and with the same type of dog that would leave hairs on the blue blankets. For a second I was suspicious, or what it was more like was piecing together a jigsaw. Cameron Welsh has maintained that there was a witness, and he may have been right. He’s constantly mentioned that he knows more, that he seeks out small clues he wants us to follow. We’d reached a conclusion that he was lying, that he didn’t have anything more to tell us, but what if he knew all along about someone—possibly a security guard? It would make sense, and that’s what he has been holding back.”

  Ken remained with his eyes closed.

  “I hated having to sit with him. He was constantly giving me these sexual gloating looks. He repels me, but I had to meet with him because my boss insisted. After the last visit, I was certain that it had all been a ploy to get me there, that he was enjoying himself, that he might even have had some fantasy about me, but I only agreed to meet with him again because it meant that I could spend time with you.”

  Still no reaction.

  “For the first time in my life, I want to be with someone more than I want my career. Previously, I would be the first person to forgo leave, but I’ve taken more time off than I have on any other case because I wanted to be with you, and if you asked me, I would walk away from the entire career that to date has been the most important thing in my life.”

  He said nothing. There was a long pause, and she stood up. “I’ll go now.”

  He flipped open the duvet, inviting her in, and she crawled in beside him fully clothed. He lifted his arm for her to snuggle closer, holding her tightly.

  “I don’t want you to go,” he said softly.

  She remained beside him in her clothes all night. They fell asleep, exhausted. She was woken by him gently touching her face; he was already dressed for work.

  “I have to go, but I can be back early afternoon. Can you wait for me?”

  “You’ll never get rid of me.”

  He straightened and headed for the door, then turned back. “You know, maybe I was so mad because I’d had a really bad day. Cameron Welsh is making life difficult at the unit. We had an unpleasant fight between inmates, and he was the one that sparked it off; we’ve even had him sedated, but he’s getting worse by the day. I think you were right—I think he does have this fantasy about you, and whether or not it’s my intuition or his, I think he knows about us.”

  “How?”

  “No idea, but he’s made a few snide remarks. I ignore them. If you think he does have more information, I doubt you’ll get any sense out of him.”

  She sat up. “What did he say about us?”

  “He never says anything directly; it’s mumbled when he passes me. He said something about redheads being the devil. Another time he said I’d pay for betraying him, just crazy stuff. But we’ve had to make him give up a lot of his privileges, so that enrages him, and like I told you, he’s refusing to wash and eat.”

  “Will he be transferred?”

  “I’ve suggested it. If he acts any crazier, he should be shipped out to Broadmoor. So that’s why I flew off the handle so easily.”

  “You should have told me.”

  “It wasn’t the right time. And then, well, you know what happened next.”

  Anna jumped on top of the bed and held out her arms. He moved away. “There was something else I intended to do and . . . I don’t know if this is the right time even now.” He went to the dresser and opened a drawer. He took out a small box and then returned to the bed. “It’s secondhand—Victorian, I don’t know if you’ll like it—and maybe you will want to spend time thinking about it. You don’t have to give me an answer straightaway.”

  She could feel her heart thudding. He moved closer and opened the box. It was a ring, a thin gold shaft with flat rose diamonds and pearls.

  “Is it what I think it is?” She had to catch her breath.

  “Like I said, you don’t have to make any decision now. It might not even fit.”

  “Is it an engagement ring?” She could hardly get the words out.

  “Yes.”

  She hurled herself at him, almost making him drop it, hugging him and kissing his face.

  “Do you want to try it on?”

  She held out her left hand, and he took the ring from the box and slipped it onto her ring finger. It was not a perfect fit, but she didn’t care; she felt as if she would explode with happiness.

  “Do you want me to ask you properly?”

  “Yes.”

  He flushed and licked his lips.

  “Okay . . . Will you marry me, Anna Travis?”

  “YES, YES, YES, YES, YES!”

  After Ken had left for work, Anna took a long bath, constantly holding up her hand to look at the ring. She found some Bandaids in the bathroom cabinet and wrapped one around her finger so the gold shaft would fit tightly. She then did something that she had never done before; she put a call in to the incident room, but it was still early, and Mike wasn’t available. Barolli, Joan, and Barbara were also not at work, so she left a message with the duty sergeant that she would be unable to be present today. She was going to say she had food poisoning or the flu, but instead said it was a personal matter and she would make contact later in the morning.

  • • •

  She was dressed and sipping a mug of coffee when her mobile rang. It was Barbara.

  “Hi. Good morning to you,” Anna said.

  “You sound perky. We thought you were sick or something,” Barbara said.

  “Just feeling a bit under the weather. I’ll be back in the morning.”

  “Well, it’s all right for some. We’re in the incident room. Mike asked me to contact you, as we’re a bit nonplused about your late-night text message.”

  Anna straightened out fast and agreed to speak to him. She explained what her message was about, that it was a possibility their killer could have been a security guard, a dog handler, ma
ybe. This would explain the dog hairs found on the blue blanket.

  “I’m not quite following why or how you’ve come to this conclusion,” Mike said.

  “Cameron Welsh has maintained that he had information, and he’s led us along by the nose, but at one stage he suggested that our killer could be a police officer. I think he said someone of authority who would look completely trustworthy. We went down the police officers’ route but got nothing. What if the killer is a security guard? They have spare uniforms, they even pay for them, so even if our man was no longer working for a security company, he could have retained a uniform. Also, dog handlers have a van . . .”

  “You think he works in Barfield Prison?”

  “No, he’d be in London, maybe transporting prisoners to and from court. I know it’s a long shot, but it’s something we should look into. Go back five years to Cameron Welsh’s arrest and trial and see if we can get a result.”

  Mike said he would look into it, but he didn’t sound that interested, possibly because it would be yet another long round of tedious clerical work. Anna asked if they had had any new developments, and he rather curtly said it had been only twenty-four hours.

  “What about Smiley’s bank accounts?”

  “Being checked out. If it’s not a rude question, where the hell are you?”

  “Just with relatives. Something’s cropped up, but I’ll be back as soon as possible. Did you get my messages to trace Margaret Potts’s foster parents?”

  “In the pipeline.”

  “If we do get a contact, I’d very much like to take the interview.”

  “Right, I’ll make a note of it. Is everything all right with you?”

  “Fine. Like I said, it’s a personal matter, but I’ll be there first thing in the morning.”

  Mike hung up before saying anything else. Anna felt a bit guilty but then shrugged it off. She’d never taken a day off before, and she knew she must have a number of days, if not weeks, due to her.

  After the call, she decided to go out and do a grocery shop to cook a meal for when Ken returned home, since he’d given her his front-door key. As she left, she saw his neighbor and smiled, apologizing again for making such a disturbance. She couldn’t take the smile off her face, and as she walked to her Mini, she had a real desire to do a cartwheel like the one in the photograph. She also had a real urge to call someone to announce that she was engaged, and it saddened her that there wasn’t anyone close who would want to know. But she couldn’t feel down for long, constantly looking at the ring on her finger as she drove to the shops. She was not alone anymore, and just thinking about what the future held made her beam with joy.