Obsession

by Susan Lewis

  ‘I’ll be with you just as soon as I can, Cristos,’ Corrie said into the phone. ‘I have something to tell you … I think you know what it is.’

  ‘I’ll be waiting,’ he said. ‘Just get here as soon as you can.’

  When the police broke down the door of Luke’s apartment they found the TV blaring and no one at home. Since it was Saturday Radcliffe hadn’t expected anyone to be at the TW offices, and he was right. But the security man had handed over the addresses and telephone numbers of all TW’s employees and CID officers were spreading out all over London now to go and interview them. Back at the station a constable was onto the licensing centre in Swansea to find out the types and registrations of all vehicles registered in the names of either Luke Fitzpatrick or Bobby McIver. That could well prove to be a needle in the haystack search, but they didn’t have much else to go on right now.

  Radcliffe himself was on the phone to the doctor who was tending Bobby McIver. ‘Just tell McIver we know about Fitzpatrick,’ he was saying, his sparse hair on end where he kept agitating it. ‘Tell him there’s nothing to be afraid of anymore. See if he says anything. If he does, get back to me.’

  He banged the phone down as DC Archer walked into his office. ‘You’ve alerted the press?’ he said.

  Archer nodded. ‘Phillip Denby’s arrived to take Corrie home. At least, he’s taking her to Annalise’s where she’s going to be staying for the next few days.’

  ‘With a round the clock police guard?’

  ‘Naturally,’ Archer confirmed.

  The search for Luke went on all that day and into the next, but any lead they gained always ended in a blank. A team of detectives spent hours tearing Luke’s apartment to pieces looking for something that could give them a clue as to where he might be, but nothing presented itself. His picture was over the front page of every newspaper, on every news bulletin, but as yet there hadn’t been a single sighting.

  Phillip was staying at Annalise’s too, and though both he and Corrie judged the time right now to tell Annalise who Corrie really was every time they tried to broach the subject it was almost as though Annalise knew what they were going to say but didn’t want to hear it.

  ‘Do you think Luke’s told her already?’ Corrie said.

  Phillip shook his head. ‘I don’t know, he might have. But she loves you so much, Corrie, when she was in the hospital it was only you she wanted, so I can’t imagine why she’s responding this way. Perhaps she doesn’t quite understand what we’re trying to tell her … Perhaps we should just come right out and say it. We can always explain about Edwina later.’

  They agreed to do it that way just as soon as Annalise woke up, but by the time she did Phillip had been called to his office to sign some urgent documents, and Corrie really didn’t want to go ahead without him.

  She was just ending a call to Cristos when Annalise walked into the room. ‘No, you’ll have to wait,’ she was saying. ‘I want to see your face when I tell you. I know, but it won’t be long now. I’ll be there before the ceremony, I promise. I’ll talk to Radcliffe again, see what he says.’

  ‘Why don’t you just go?’ Annalise said, when Corrie rang off.

  Corrie looked up into her pallid face and sighed. ‘I wish I could. Oh God, you don’t know how much I wish I could. But there’s no way of avoiding the police while they’re sitting around outside the way they are – and I can’t see Radcliffe letting me go yet. Not before they’ve found …’

  As Corrie’s voice trailed off Annalise turned away. Over the past twenty-four hours no one had mentioned Luke’s name in Annalise’s hearing and though there was a part of Corrie that wanted to persuade Annalise to talk, another part of her sensed that the pain Annalise had bottled up inside her was so profound that to force her to face it would only be to hurt her all the more.

  As bad as this had been for Corrie she couldn’t even begin to imagine how it must be for Annalise. To have discovered that the man she loved had so brutally murdered five women; and somehow contrived to have an innocent man arrested, and had all this time been terrorizing her own father while sleeping with her mother was too enormous to comprehend. Yet did Annalise still love him, Corrie wondered. Even after everything? Maybe she did and that was why she couldn’t bring herself to speak about him. Perhaps, added to her pain was a shame so deep and so torturous that she couldn’t admit to it even to herself. But if she could, if Corrie was only able to reach her …

  Corrie’s eyes suddenly moved back to Annalise. Perhaps there was a way. Perhaps if she could get Annalise as far away from this nightmare as possible, somewhere where she would no longer feel the oppressive presence of the police nor the constant threat of danger … If she could persuade Annalise to come to France with her where both she and Cristos could take care of her, maybe then Annalise would let go. If she didn’t, and the police didn’t catch up with Luke soon, then Corrie was very much afraid of what this unbearable strain would do to Annalise.

  ‘If I go to Cristos,’ Corrie said quietly, watching Annalise as she pulled a curtain to one side to look out at the police, ‘would you come with me?’

  Annalise’s eyes widened as she turned back to Corrie. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, I’ll come with you.’

  Corrie’s face broke into a smile. ‘I’ll get on the phone to Radcliffe right now then, shall I?’

  ‘He’ll never let us go.’

  ‘I’ll make him. I don’t know how, but I’ll think of something …’

  ‘No, stop,’ Annalise said as Corrie started to dial. ‘Don’t call him. Not from here. Call him from the airport, after we’ve bought the tickets. Just tell him we’re going … He won’t be able to stop us.’

  ‘I think he will,’ Corrie said, pulling a face. ‘But you’re right, maybe we should do it from the airport. It’ll seem a bit more of a fait accompli from there. Of course he’ll know what we’re up to before we even get to Heathrow. The police outside will want to know where we’re going the minute we walk out of the door. Still it’s worth a shot …’

  ‘Shall we pack?’ Annalise said, the ghost of a sparkle lighting the depths of her eyes.

  Corrie nodded. ‘Yes, let’s do that,’ she said. ‘After we’ve reserved the tickets.’

  When Corrie and Annalise arrived at Heathrow airport, with their police escort, they went straight to pick up their tickets then made for the telephone booths. Annalise was calling Phillip while Corrie tried to get through to Cristos. He wasn’t there, but Jeannie was.

  ‘Gee, Corrie,’ Jeannie exclaimed, ‘you don’t know how glad he’ll be to hear you’re on your way. I’ll get right onto him.’

  ‘Will he pick us up from the airport?’ Corrie asked.

  ‘Sure he will. If he can’t, I’ll make sure someone does. Hell, I’ll come myself

  Then, with DC Fulton at her elbow Corrie called Radcliffe.

  When DI Radcliffe put the phone down to Corrie he looked across his desk at DC Archer who had been listening in to the call.

  ‘Our lads are out there at the airport, sir,’ Archer said, ‘shall I get them to bring her in?’

  Radcliffe took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  ‘I think it would be wise, sir.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Radcliffe said. ‘But what am I supposed to do, arrest them? Corrie wants to get out there for that festival.’

  ‘Yes, I know, sir.’

  ‘Then hell, let her go. She’s told us all she can, they both have, and they’ll be safe enough with Bennati; apart from anything else the damned press are following him wherever he goes – and there’s no way Fitzpatrick can get out of this country. We’ll fly them back as soon as the awards have been announced. Now, I want you to tell me that some clever-dick on this force has discovered where Fitzpatrick is hiding himself.’

  ‘I wish I could, guv,’ Archer said mournfully.

  ‘Well someone’s got to know where the hell he is,’ Radcliffe declared. ‘Corrie Browne walked into this station more than twenty-four
hours ago now …’

  ‘We’ve managed to locate the cab driver who picked her up after she escaped,’ Archer offered. ‘He’s on his way over.’

  ‘Good. Any leads yet on the whereabouts of this Siobhan?’

  ‘We’re still working on it, sir.’

  Radcliffe’s lips pursed thoughtfully, as shaking his head he turned his eyes to the window. ‘Why is it I get the feeling that the bastard’s out there somewhere just biding his time?’ he muttered angrily under his breath. ‘He’s not on the run, he’s waiting. And he’s waiting for Corrie Browne. So just what the fuck is it that he wants with her? And what in Christ’s name did he mean when he told her that he had to deal with Annalise?’ He looked up and his eyes were narrowed with intent as he looked at Archer. ‘I’ve got to find him, Ruth, you know that don’t you? I’ve got to find the bastard.’

  Archer stared helplessly back at his taut face. She knew, as well as Radcliffe did, that it wasn’t only his concern for Corrie and Annalise that was driving him now. It was the fact that since Corrie had gone missing his job had been well and truly on the line. As yet not every detail of the case had reached upstairs – like how Corrie Browne herself had tried to warn them about Fitzpatrick all those months ago – but when the top brass found out, and they most certainly would, the shit was sure going to hit the fan. And the added fact that Fitzpatrick was a personal friend of Radcliffe’s was going to make matters a whole lot worse. Both Archer and Radcliffe knew that nothing short of an arrest within the next few hours was going to save Radcliffe’s skin now, and the likelihood of that was so minimal as to be virtually non-existent, for it seemed that no one in the world, with the exception of Fitzpatrick himself, knew where he was – or what he was planning to do.

  His hands were unsteady as he picked up the parcel beside him. The anger was receding now, coiling back into his gut like an exhausted snake, though lingering remnants of its venom were still poisoning his brain and he took great gulps of air in an effort to cleanse every cell. Tears continued to leak from his eyes – his grief was total, his heart so filled with it that the weight stooped his shoulders.

  It was all coming to an end. He was on the point of losing himself for ever, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He’d tried for so long to fight it, but the moments for himself had become so few, the moments when he yearned for Corrie – like now.

  He hadn’t made her understand, she hadn’t given him the chance and now there was nothing more he could do. The rage was rooted inside him, invading every part of him, eclipsing his mind and governing all that he did. It had crippled him, violated him, and now finally it was obliterating him completely. She might have stopped it, she might have reached out to him and eased the chaos, but she hadn’t.

  Suddenly he giggled, the sound bursting from his mouth like the discordant cry of a trapped animal. He would die soon, very soon, and he would take Corrie with him. No one could part them then, and in death she would heal his wounds; she would piece together his shattered heart and make him whole again, the way he’d wanted her to in life. She would be his salvation, she would comfort him for all of eternity.

  But how could he go before he had released Siobhan? His precious, darling Siobhan. Her torment was his and his, hers. Only they shared the pain – the pain no one would ever understand. Siobhan had to die, he must do that for her before he left this world. But he couldn’t get to her now, there was nothing he could do to free her from her living hell. He’d tried, so many times before, but none of them were Siobhan. To kill those who were like her wasn’t enough.

  The parcel was open now and as he lifted out the contents he turned to himself in the mirror. His deathly pallor was striped with bands of sunlight, his eyes were red and swollen and saliva foamed at the corners of his mouth. It needn’t have been like this – if Corrie had only listened to him, if she’d loved him, she could have saved him. He was going to tell her, he would have told her that day, but when he’d got there she had gone. He’d known then, at the very instant he’d seen the broken panels, that it was over for him.

  At first his despair had drowned even the rage. Why had she gone? Why hadn’t she understood how much he needed her? Why hadn’t she heard his silent cries for help? Of all of them she was the only one who could have saved him. Perhaps, if she’d loved him, she could have saved them all. But it was too late now, she had gone, and as he had knelt there in the rain-spattered street, hunching over the jagged debris of the panels, the monstrous rage had started to slither through his veins.

  There had been no time then to go for Annalise, no time to do anything but come here and wait for Corrie. This was where she would come because this was where Bennati was.

  And now she was on her way. She would be here soon and she was bringing Annalise with her. His heart contracted as he saw Annalise’s face in his mind’s eye. How he had hurt her, how he had damaged her – she had tried to kill herself because of what he had done, but they had saved her. No matter, he would end it for her himself. She wouldn’t have to live her life the way Siobhan was living hers – oh no, he wouldn’t do that to Annalise. He would finish it, the way he should have finished it for Siobhan.

  His head dropped as the sobs started to curl agonizingly through his ribs. Would he find the courage for it? Would he be able to end her misery, when like Siobhan, he loved her so much? Annalise, Siobhan, it was so hard to distinguish one from the other now. All he knew was that Corrie stood aloof from it all, untainted by the tragedy, so pure, so caring that in life or in death she would be his salvation.

  The plane would land soon, he must go. This wouldn’t be easy, so many people to recognize him. But the disguise was there, lying on the table in front of him.

  He took one last look at his face in the mirror, knowing that he would probably never see himself again. He’d thought, long ago, that the real bastard was dead. They’d told him he was dead, but they were wrong, he was still alive – Octavia had shown him that. Octavia had shown him that he was the bastard. The same blood ran in his veins, the same perversion tainted his mind. He’d done all that the bastard had done, and worse. He was ruled by the bastard so he was the bastard. And now he would give in to it totally, he would become the man he feared and despised, it was the only way he would be able to find the courage to do what he must.

  His last prayer, as his mind started to sink into darkness, was that before setting them all free, God would spare him from harming either Annalise or Corrie the way he had Siobhan.

  – 27 –

  RADCLIFFE HAD SPENT the past hour in Deptford where the cab driver had picked up Corrie. Just before he’d arrived they had located the garage where Fitzpatrick had been holding her and Radcliffe, still sick to his stomach at what he had seen inside, was now making his way back up the stairs to his office. As he slumped into his chair Archer, who was at her desk in the CID office, put down the telephone and went through.

  ‘There was human hair, teeth, skin all over the place,’ he said, as she closed the door. ‘And rabbits’ carcasses.’ He looked up. ‘What does it mean, Ruth? What the hell do those rabbits mean?’

  Archer shook her head. ‘Sir …’ she began.

  ‘Have Corrie and Annalise arrived in France yet?’ he interrupted.

  ‘I was just about …’

  ‘I shouldn’t have let them go,’ Radcliffe went on. ‘I want them back here. Tonight. We’re going to have to spring a trap for Fitzpatrick, and we’ll have to use Corrie Browne …’

  ‘I’m sorry, guv,’ Archer said, ‘but I think it’s too late for that.’

  There was a sudden swirling queasiness in Radcliffe’s gut as he looked back at Archer.

  ‘I’ve just had Cristos Bennati on the phone,’ Archer explained. ‘Corrie and Annalise haven’t … Well, we don’t know where they are, sir.’

  ‘What do you mean you don’t know where they are?’ Radcliffe hissed. ‘That plane took off over three hours ago with them on board. Bob Parker called in to confirm it.’


  ‘Yes, sir. I’ve checked with Air France too, they were definitely on the flight. But as yet we haven’t found anyone who saw them get off it.’

  ‘Well they sure as hell didn’t sprout wings,’ Radcliffe roared. ‘So how the fuck could they not get off at the other end?’

  ‘I don’t know, sir. Bennati said he waited. He checked with Air France too and got the same answer as I did. They were on the flight. Bennati assumed he must have missed them in the crowds at Nice airport and that they had got a taxi to his hotel. But they haven’t shown up there either, sir.’

  ‘This isn’t possible,’ Radcliffe muttered. ‘It just isn’t fucking possible. He couldn’t have got out of this country.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that, sir,’ Archer replied.

  Radcliffe glared up at her. ‘Go on,’ he said tightly.

  ‘Well, maybe he went before we put a stop on all the air and ferry ports,’ she said. ‘I mean, he could have gone as soon as he found that Corrie Browne had escaped. He’d have only had an hour or so to do it, but …’ She shrugged. ‘It’s just a suggestion, sir.’

  ‘But why would he have gone to France?’ Radcliffe snapped. ‘Because Bennati is there,’ he added, answering his own question.

  ‘Yes sir. He’d know that as soon as she could Corrie would go to Bennati. It’s my guess that Fitzpatrick’s been there all the time, checking with the airlines just waiting for her to arrive.’

  ‘Well if you’re so damned fucking clever,’ Radcliffe thundered, ‘then how the hell did he get them out of that airport when Bennati himself was standing right there?’

  ‘Bennati, and half the world’s press, sir,’ Archer corrected him. ‘It was chaos at Nice airport when that flight got in, Bennati said. He said too that he was called to the telephone but there was no one at the other end.’

  ‘And just what is Bennati reading into that?’ Radcliffe demanded.