He opened the window and let the air rush over his face, waking him, keeping alive the anger, stoking and stirring it until he recovered. A car swerved and beeped as he drifted over the centre line. He swore and wrenched the wheel back the other way, drifting into a side street, checking his map.
A red light appeared ahead. He was forced to stop at a set of roadworks. The light was temporary and it threw his map reading off. He checked the address and cursed. The house was here, in this street. Suddenly alert, he peered ahead, counting the houses from his position, checking the lights, inspecting the pedestrians. There were a few parked cars and he checked them all, one by one.
A Volvo, black and empty. A Mini, white, also empty. Then a BMW. Large, parked one door removed from Alex Madison’s house, marked clearly with police insignia. Victor’s breath caught in his throat as he saw movement in the car. His windscreen was dirty and he wiped it with his sleeve. Sure enough, there were two figures in the vehicle. He couldn’t make out the details, but they looked to be dressed the same, in uniform, which could only mean one thing.
He slammed his fists on the steering wheel and rested his forehead on top. He butted his head against his fists in rage. Too late. He was too late. The police bastards were here and they wouldn’t let him kill the devil child. If they knew the truth they might, but they wouldn’t listen to him.
The sound of a horn startled him. He checked his rear-view mirror and saw a man gesturing to him. Rude and unnecessary, the man was swearing at Victor to move. Victor looked up. The traffic light was green, but he paused. It was a narrow street and if he carried on he’d pass close to the police car. They were obviously looking for him and he couldn’t risk it.
The motorist beeped again, and he was joined by another. Victor turned the engine off, tapping several times on the wheel. He took four deep breaths and opened the door.
‘What are you doing?’ shouted the man behind. He’d opened his window and was looking at Victor with disgust. His eyes took in the dirty figure of the sick-looking man.
‘You can’t stop there,’ he said. ‘I can’t get through.’
Victor ambled towards the man in his car, wincing as his footsteps compounded the stampede in his head. It was an Audi, long and sleek with large wheels. He kept his head down until he was right next to the car. He leaned in so his face was level with the man.
‘Stop,’ said Victor. His face changed and he locked on to the man’s eyes. He clenched his jaw and changed his expression several times in rapid succession. He whispered a few words to calm the man. As he waited for the suggestions to permeate, Victor closed his eyes against the pain.
More honking, this time from the next car along.
‘I need your car,’ said Victor, hushing the man with more reassuring words as the inevitable objections were raised. The man looked puzzled now, his mind caught between the real and the planted. He struggled. Victor pushed.
The man opened the door from the inside and stepped out. His arms hung loose as he glanced around, lost, like a small boy staring at the stars.
‘This is my car,’ said Victor. ‘Yours is over there.’ He indicated the small hatchback he’d arrived in. Stolen, but serviceable. The other man would believe it was his, and he’d tell it to anyone who would listen until he went mad as the memories conflicted and bounced around in his head. He’d survive it, or he wouldn’t. Victor couldn’t worry about that. Wrong place and time. The man was in Victor’s way.
‘Hey!’ Another shout. The drivers of two other cars were getting angry. The traffic light turned red again and one of them swore, beeped his horn three times and slammed his car door.
Victor peered up the road. His time was up. The police car’s internal light was on and one of them stepped out, staring towards the commotion. Victor ducked in time, sliding into the stranger’s car, putting it straight into drive and jamming the steering wheel hard to the right until it locked. He didn’t look towards the police or the devil child’s house, he simply stood on the accelerator and the car lurched forwards and to the right. The turn took him on to the opposite kerb but he kept going, ignoring the honks and the shouts, yanking the wheel back as the tyres gripped the tarmac and powered the car into the main road and away.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Alex was vaguely aware of his phone ringing. He assumed it was Jane, and made to throw it on the table, when he noticed it was caller withheld. It could be a client from his private list, or the police switchboard.
‘Dr Madison,’ he said, his own voice sounding distant, like an echo. He swallowed. Pressure popped in his ears.
‘It’s Hartley. How are you?’
‘I’m, er—’
‘Sorry, stupid question. Forgive me. I haven’t been getting much rest. My social skills suffer first.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Alex. His ears popped again and his hearing cleared.
‘Anyway, listen, I’ve managed to get more resources. The press leak means this case is going high profile. Normally that’s bad news, but it means I have more manpower and more cars.’
Alex wondered if Hartley had been the one to leak the news to the press. He sniffed. ‘For what?’
‘Firstly, protection. Because of your father you’re getting a watch put on you and your house.’
‘I really don’t—’
‘Save it,’ said Hartley. ‘It’s not up to you. In fact, there’s a patrol car outside your house already. I know what you’ve told me, but if there’s any chance Victor heads your way, we want to be there. There’ll be a visible presence outside your house at all times. An armed response vehicle.’
‘Great,’ said Alex, wondering why he didn’t feel reassured. ‘But I think you’re wasting your people. Victor doesn’t care about me.’
‘I hope that’s true,’ said Hartley. ‘But for now, do me a favour and stay at home?’
‘For how long?’
‘Just a few days.’
‘How can you possibly—’
‘Sorry, I’ve got to go,’ said Hartley. ‘Just do it, please? Be nice to the officers. Make them a cup of tea or something.’
‘Nice,’ said Alex, hanging up.
He checked through the blinds and sure enough, a marked BMW sat outside. He saw two officers, one in the front and the other in the back. One of them pulled out a thermos and poured a cup of something. The other glanced over to the window. Alex, embarrassed, raised a hand and gave them a wave, before feeling stupid and ducking away.
He grabbed his phone and called Sophie.
‘Yeah?’ She sounded abrupt.
‘I wondered what you were doing.’
‘Oh,’ she said, her voice softening. Alex heard shuffling in the background and the slamming of a car door. ‘Nothing.’
He told her about his police protection and orders to stay put.
‘For how long?’
‘No idea,’ he said. ‘But if I’m stuck here, do you want to come over?’
There was silence and Alex thought maybe it was a bad idea, inviting Sophie here so soon after breaking up with Jane.
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘actually I do. We should talk.’
‘Good,’ he said, trying to push away his gnawing doubts. Sophie wouldn’t help his anxiety. Their relationship was a complication he shouldn’t invite on top of everything else. But still, he couldn’t pretend the attraction wasn’t there, or deny what they’d done.
Sophie arrived an hour later. Alex had showered and dressed casually, but with attention to detail. He realised he was dressing to impress, in spite of the circumstances. He examined himself in the mirror and frowned, still not sure of Sophie’s feelings for him. He might have it all wrong. Perhaps Romania was just a one-off: a workplace affair destined for disaster. It felt more meaningful than that, but his judgement wasn’t exactly spot on lately.
Thankfully, Sophie didn’t arrive in a hoodie and jeans. She was dressed in tight black trousers and black top. Sleek, not exactly what he’d been expecting. Alex’s
eyes tried to take it all in without being obvious, but Sophie brushed him aside with a quirky smile. She glanced around.
‘You alone?’ she said.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Apart from my bodyguards. Did you give them a twirl?’
She frowned. ‘Don’t joke. Hopefully they won’t be necessary.’
‘I agree,’ said Alex, watching Sophie survey his hallway and saunter through into the kitchen.
‘You look great,’ said Alex. ‘I feel like a bit of a slob.’ He indicated his immaculate polo shirt and slim chinos.
‘You look it,’ she teased, but it was strained. She didn’t look like she was here for fun. She leaned on the worktop, shuffling her left foot and biting her lip, which in the last few days had been her standard resting position, always nervous, always fidgeting. Alex was troubled at the sight. Was this case too much for her? Was he being selfish by keeping her on it? Or was it just him?
‘You heard Robert’s been put on administrative leave?’ said Sophie.
‘I hadn’t heard,’ said Alex, ‘but he looked worn out last time I saw him. He was as out of his depth as the rest of us, and with the added responsibility. Where has he gone?’
‘Nowhere. He called in. Told us all to be careful. He told me no patient was worth this strain. He gave me a message for you. Told you to stay away and leave it to the police.’
‘Which is exactly what I’m doing,’ said Alex.
‘A bit late,’ said Sophie. ‘You could have left it alone the minute you saw what Victor could do.’
Alex nodded. ‘I could. Coffee?’
‘Sure.’
‘If I had – left it alone, I mean – then we wouldn’t have . . . got to know each other.’
‘Had sex, you mean.’
Alex spluttered. ‘That’s not what I meant. What’s got into you?’
‘Nothing,’ said Sophie, shaking her head. ‘Sorry. But that is all we’ve done. We don’t owe each other anything.’
Alex was taken aback. He’d thought he was making progress with Sophie, breaking down whatever barriers she had. Clearly he was wrong. He had a sinking feeling about where this conversation was headed.
‘I know that,’ he said. ‘Jane’s gone,’ he added. Was that the right olive branch? What Sophie wanted to hear?
‘For good?’
‘For good.’
Sophie accepted the coffee and held it with both hands towards her mouth. She blew the steam away and sipped, pulling a face. ‘Sugar?’
‘It’s bad for you,’ said Alex, helping himself to three lumps before passing it to Sophie.
‘We can’t do this,’ said Sophie. Alex stared at her, but her face was downcast and she refused to make eye contact.
Alex gulped the hot coffee and put his cup on the worktop.
‘Do what?’
‘I’m sorry. I really am. We should never . . .’ Sophie paused and took a deep breath. He saw a battle in her eyes. ‘It was great getting to know you. You’ve been helpful, really. But I can’t—’
‘Tell me why,’ he said. Alex wanted desperately for her to tell him what it was that bothered her, what demons caused the hurt. The story about her family was false, he knew that much, but he couldn’t say it. Something ate away at her, something that caused her to disappear into a troubled state of mind. She wasn’t his patient, nor was she his partner. Were they even friends?
‘I’m sorry if we did things wrong,’ he said. ‘The sex. We don’t need to . . . We can start again. If you want to.’
‘You didn’t do anything wrong,’ she said. ‘I did . . .’ She raised her head and he could see her eyes were puffy. A single tear rolled down her left cheek.
‘What?’ Alex moved to put his arm around her but she stood and backed away. Wiping her face with her sleeve, she picked up her bag.
‘I shouldn’t have done this. You need to concentrate on your family.’
‘Done what?’ he said. ‘What did you do?’
Sophie shook her head. She wiped the tear from her eye and threw her shoulders back. Alex saw the confident Sophie trying to break through, her eyes sparkling. She backed out of the kitchen.
‘I’m sorry, Alex. Look after yourself,’ she said, and strode towards the front door.
‘Wait!’ Alex shouted after her, frustrated and confused.
Sophie looked around once as she opened the door.
‘I mean it,’ she said. ‘Take care.’
The door closed and Alex was left alone in the hall. He didn’t pursue her. He didn’t know why she’d picked today to break off a relationship that hadn’t even started, but there was nothing to be gained by shouting in the street. He’d wait – perhaps until after Victor had been caught. He couldn’t switch off his feelings for Sophie, but they were new and embryonic. He didn’t know what he really felt against the background of the situation with Victor and the prison.
Alex headed back to the kitchen, downcast, second-guessing his moves and conversations with Sophie, but failing to reach any meaningful conclusions. He threw his coffee away and grabbed a bottle of red. His day couldn’t get any shittier, and he was stuck in his house. Getting drunk wouldn’t make things any worse.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Victor lay on the tiled floor for several hours until he could stand. Furious, he splashed water on to his face from a metal pail. He wasn’t willing to fail now. He’d had the devil child in his sights, only to be forced away.
He knew he couldn’t get to the house. Victor had seen enough police in his time to know they were waiting and they were prepared. He’d be done for the minute he approached. He’d kill one, maybe two officers, but there’d be more. Hiding, waiting.
He had to find a way of luring Alex Madison out of his lair and into the open. He must tempt the precious young devil child to him, and Victor would show him what happened to the children who thought they could escape punishment.
Victor was precious, they’d told him, over and over. So precious. What is more precious than a young child? Innocent and trusting of anything. That’s how they arrived at Comăneşti. They didn’t stay innocent for long. None of them. Not even Laura.
Victor stared at his blurred reflection in the twisted metal and asked himself the question again. It came to him, slowly, but the answer was correct. He knew Laura would question it, but he would tell her the ends justified it. How else? She would understand, he thought. She’d come round, given time. She’d give him her blessing when she saw what it meant.
Victor knew what would lure his prey to him. Innocence must be spoiled.
It didn’t take Victor long. He’d forced himself up and out of the house. It hurt, but he had no choice. His fury dragged him through. He had no qualms about what he was going to do next.
A series of phone calls was all it took to locate both the mother and the child. Pretending to be Dr Madison loosened the lips of every school receptionist in the area, and it wasn’t long until he found the right one. Even if one of them reported his suspicious phone call, it would be too late. He was now parked across the street and a few buildings away from the school Alex Madison’s daughter attended. Sipping a bottle of water, he watched the coach slow and pull into the entrance, creeping along the narrow road, turning at the end. With a hiss it stopped and the driver jumped from the cab, welcomed by the crowd of eager parents waiting for their children. As they unloaded the bags and camping gear, Victor kept watch.
He didn’t know what the girl looked like, but he had a photo of the mother, and the car registration. He’d spied the Saab convertible already and was parked facing the same direction, ten or so cars back. He’d watch and wait.
For ten minutes Victor watched parents and their children. It troubled him to see the relationships and the obvious love between them. So protective and yet so trusting. It was complicated and Victor didn’t understand. He had no comparable reference with his own parents. He had a vague picture of them in his head, but the image came along with feelings of pain and anguish, not love an
d tenderness. He clenched his teeth and his fascination turned to hate. Why did these people have the right to such happiness? At least for two of them, their happiness would soon be over.
He straightened as the woman crossed the road, dragging a large black holdall and trailing a young girl. The girl was still yelling back to her friends. They all shrieked and danced around, while the parents patiently ushered them into cars, throwing mud-covered bags and rucksacks in behind them.
The Saab pulled out into the road and Victor followed.
A fresh wave of nausea hit as he drove through the suburbs. Images of Laura, his childhood friend, popped into his head and he dismissed them, distracting himself by imagining the pain on Alex Madison’s face when he found out what had happened.
As he drove, his mind whirled with hate. His mood was blackened further by the constant pain in his temples, and his anger flared with every bump in the road.
He would destroy them. The Madison family was about to reap what they had sown. Victor wouldn’t blink at adding one more orphan to this world.
They drove for less than ten minutes before pulling into a plain-looking cul-de-sac filled with large detached houses, the sort built to last a lifetime, with cellars and outbuildings. Perfect. The Saab coasted into the driveway before stopping. The girl jumped out first.
Victor knew her name was Katie. She was blonde and skinny, dressed in jeans and a patterned T-shirt, her hair pulled back into a plait. She bounced towards the front door and waited.
Her mum, Grace, followed. She had mousey brown hair and was short. Her face looked kind, but strained. The stress of raising a child, perhaps, with an absent father. Victor acknowledged these things in a cold and mindless way. He resisted the urges at the back of his head to stop. He resisted the look on Laura’s face, asking him what he’d become. He wanted to scream he was doing this for her – because of her. Her face disappeared as the front door slammed, and Victor prepared to move.
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