Down to the Woods: DI Helen Grace 8 (Detective Inspector Helen Grace)

by M. J. Arlidge

  ‘Get the fuck away from my house.’

  She was jerked from her memories by her ex-husband’s voice. Tossing her cigarette in the gutter, she turned to face him.

  ‘Believe me, I don’t want to be here, Oliver. But you haven’t given me any choice.’

  ‘Bullshit.’

  ‘I’ve messaged you countless times, asking you how Julia is, where she’s being treated, but you never respond.’

  ‘We had an agreement, Alice. I thought you understood the terms.’

  Alice stared at him. He was older, gaunter, but somehow harder too. He’d always had a twinkle, but this was gone now, replaced by something altogether more disquieting. He had never been overtly violent in their marriage, though he had lashed out on occasion, but he seemed far more intimidating than she remembered him.

  ‘Things change, Oliver,’ she responded bravely, refusing to be cowed. ‘I made mistakes, lots of them, but I’m older now, more mature. And if Julia, our daughter, hasn’t got long left, then I want to see her.’

  ‘To make your peace with her?’ he replied, sarcastically.

  ‘To tell her I love her, yes.’

  She felt tears coming, but shook them away, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

  ‘Well, I’m sorry, it’s not going to happen.’

  ‘I have a letter from my lawyer – a British lawyer – applying to Hampshire family services for an emergency access order.’ She handed the letter to him. ‘Now, you can fight it, but you’ll lose. In which case, they may choose to review custody arrangements.’

  But Oliver just shook his head, tearing the letter in two, before stepping forward to open the front door.

  ‘You’re not seeing her.’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ she challenged him, raising her voice.

  ‘Not while I still have breath in my body.’

  ‘I have come from Sweden to see my daughter,’ she protested, grabbing hold of his arm, as he tried to brush past her. ‘And I am not going home until I’ve done so. So, you’ll stay here and talk to me. We are having this conversation, Oliver …’

  She was virtually shouting and now, for the first time, her former husband seemed to hesitate. He looked around him, clocking a couple of local residents across the road, who were staring at them unapologetically.

  ‘Inside,’ he barked.

  Grabbing her by the arm, he propelled her inside the house, slamming the door shut behind them.

  135

  ‘There’s no way we can allow you access.’

  The consultant stood directly in front of her, blocking her path.

  ‘She is in a stable condition, but that’s the best that can be said for her. She’s been suffering from acute pneumonia for several weeks now – her lungs are shot, her immune system is compromised.’

  ‘But her father visits her daily.’

  ‘Under strictly monitored conditions and –’

  ‘Even so, he’s in there every day, talking to her. And he swears blind she is capable of understanding and even responding.’

  ‘It’s true that Doctor Ellis has had some success in communicating with her –’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘But that was when Julia was in better shape.’

  ‘And it’s your opinion that me talking to her will directly endanger her life?’

  Now Baines paused.

  ‘Well, no, I can’t say that for certain. But try to understand that her body is basically shutting down. We are keeping her alive in the hope that we may see some improvement, but honestly it would be a miracle. In reality, we are looking at a managed decline.’

  ‘Which makes it even more important that I talk to her. I believe she was the victim of a very serious crime nearly a decade ago, a crime which she is probably the only remaining witness to.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I can’t allow it,’ Baines insisted, shaking his head. ‘The stress of being interviewed by a police officer, of reliving past trauma … well, I’ve no idea what the effect on her might be. And as her father isn’t here currently –’

  ‘Another reason why I need to interview her now.’

  The consultant paused, the implications of what Helen had said striking home. He had no idea what crime Oliver Winter might, or might not, be accused of, but his imagination was running wild. Helen noticed beads of sweat pricking his forehead.

  ‘Look, I will be as brief as I can,’ Helen continued. ‘And I will make every effort to avoid distressing her. But I do need to talk to her.’

  Helen was staring directly at Baines and, finally, after a long-fought battle, she began to see some understanding in his expression.

  ‘So, please, page Doctor Ellis. Do whatever you have to. But we need to do this now.’

  136

  ‘How does it work?’

  Helen was cocooned in the HDU with Dr Louise Ellis. The room had been cleared of visitors and they were alone, save for Julia, who lay just out of earshot. The young woman, who had numerous tubes attached to her arms, now had electrodes attached to her forehead and temples too.

  ‘It’s a system that was trialled in the States for victims of road traffic accidents with severe head injuries. These were people in permanent vegetative states – they were unresponsive, the hospitals were angling to turn off life support, but tests proved that many of them could still hear what was being said to them. More than that, they could process it and respond.’

  ‘But how do you understand what they’re saying? How can they respond in terms we recognize?’

  ‘They can’t. Or at least, they can’t form sentences, but they can give a simple “yes” or “no”. Basically, different parts of the brain engage, depending on the kind of thing you’re thinking about. If, for example, you’re thinking about doing something active – running, dancing – the cerebrum at the front of your brain becomes active. If you’re thinking about something visual, like a beautiful sunset for example, then the cortex at the rear of your brain engages.’

  ‘So you ask a question,’ Helen clarified, picking up on this, ‘and if she wants to answer “yes” she thinks about running, and if she wants to answer “no” she imagines a sunset?’

  Dr Ellis nodded, gesturing to a high-resolution monitor to the side of Julia’s bed.

  ‘The screen illuminates whichever side of the brain she’s engaging. It’s not foolproof, but it’s been pretty effective. She and her father had quite lengthy conversations in the past. More recently, it’s been one-way traffic of course, him talking to her, which I didn’t think was necessarily a good idea. When you’re in a bad way, you need all the help and encouragement you can get, but it can be very stressful to be bombarded with information which you have no control over.’

  Helen glanced at the young woman, who looked so peaceful in her hospital bed. It did seem cruel to disturb her, but Helen had no choice, so turning to Dr Ellis once more, she said:

  ‘I’m ready.’

  Helen sat close to Julia, perched by the side of the bed. Dr Ellis stood to the other side, hushed and discreet. Clearing her throat, Helen began:

  ‘Hello, Julia. My name is Helen Grace. I’m a police officer and I’m here to help you.’

  Helen looked to Dr Ellis, who nodded to her to continue.

  ‘If you do not want to talk to me, I’ll understand. Just signal “no” and I will leave you alone. But I know you have suffered, now and in the past, and I think there is perhaps a lot you could tell me, if you were able to do so.’

  The monitor, the ghostly shadow of Julia’s brain, remained lifeless, but Helen persisted.

  ‘I’m currently investigating some very serious crimes. Three people have been killed, people you know. Tom Campbell. Lauren Scott. Caleb Morgan. Now I’m sure it must be surprising, even upsetting, to hear those names again, but I’d like to ask you some questions about them. If that’s ok with you?’

  Still nothing. Concerned, Helen looked anxiously at Dr Ellis again, only to find her nodding meaningfully at the screen. Helen returned h
er gaze to the monitor to see the front part of Julia’s brain flare briefly, before receding to grey once more. It was odd how beautiful it looked – the vivid flash of green before the return to monochrome.

  ‘Thank you, Julia. Now we know these people were your friends, that you lived with Lauren for a time. But I think they may have harmed you in some way …’

  Helen hesitated for a moment, before continuing:

  ‘About two months before your accident at the bridge, you all went to a party. A full-moon party in the New Forest. We believe that it was instigated by Caleb Morgan and that he had a particular purpose in mind. Julia, I want to ask you if Caleb attacked you that night?’

  There was a long, long pause, then the front of her brain lit up once more. Helen felt a rush of emotions – a charge of excitement that finally they were making progress, tempered by deep sadness for Julia. She had been barely more than a girl when the attack took place.

  ‘Did he rape you?’

  Another affirmative. Helen felt her anger growing, but she swallowed it down.

  ‘Did Lauren and Tom witness the attack?’

  This time the rear of her brain lit up. Helen hesitated, momentarily wrong-footed, then continued, feeling her way:

  ‘Did you tell anyone about your ordeal though? You lived with Lauren. Did you tell her?’

  After a brief delay, the front part of Julia’s brain glowed.

  ‘Did you tell the police?’

  Seeing Julia answer ‘no’, Helen pondered her next question, then asked:

  ‘Did Lauren tell you not to?’

  A resounding ‘yes’, the front portion of Julia’s brain flaring strongly this time. Now a picture was starting to emerge – the attack, the devastation afterwards, but also an attempt by Lauren Scott, possibly Campbell too, to limit the damage. Perhaps they’d been in thrall to Morgan, perhaps he’d had some hold over them. Either way, they had apparently fought his corner, turning on Julia when they should have helped her.

  ‘And does … does your father know about this? The attack? The attempt to silence you?’

  Another affirmative.

  ‘I know this may be hard for you to answer honestly, but we really need to know the truth, Julia. Did your father … do anything about it? Once he found out what had happened to you?’

  For once, the screen remained blank.

  ‘You were the victim of a gross injustice, Julia. Caleb Morgan should have been arrested and tried, Lauren Scott and Tom Campbell too possibly. But revenge is not justice. Because innocents suffer. Lauren Scott was pregnant, she had a partner who loved her, Tom Campbell too, people who are grieving now, who are suffering just like you. So, please, if you know, tell me. Did your father murder Caleb Morgan, Lauren Scott and Tom Campbell?’

  Another excruciatingly long pause, then the front part of Julia’s brain glowed green. Helen breathed out, long and slow. So here, finally, was the answer to the riddle that had been perplexing them for so long.

  Having wondered previously what Oliver Winter talked to her so earnestly about, day in day out, she had begun to ask herself whether he might have ‘involved’ Julia in his scheme, telling her of his actions in the hope of assuaging his guilt and providing her with some sense of satisfaction, of justice. But it was one-way traffic, as Julia hadn’t had the opportunity to respond, which was why Helen asked one, final question.

  ‘And would you like it to stop, Julia?’

  Helen looked from the girl to the screen. A second later, the front of her brain flared bright green.

  137

  ‘Enough!’

  He spat the word out with unconcealed venom.

  ‘You’ve said what you came to say. And I’ve given you my answer. There’s nothing for you here, so go.’

  He took her by the arm, but Alice shook him off. They had been arguing for the best part of an hour, but she wasn’t finished yet.

  ‘Look, Oliver, I know seeing me is painful, that what I’m asking you makes you feel angry. And if you want me to say that I messed up, that I treated her badly, then I’m happy to do so. I was wrong to do what I did.’

  She had tried threatening him with legal action, she had appealed to his strong sense of morality, arguing that she had the right to see her own daughter, but nothing had cut any ice with him and she had grown tired of repeating herself. Her only hope now was to play his game, to abase herself in the hope that he might soften his stance.

  ‘For a mother to abandon her child like that … I can make excuses about my youth, my state of mind, but none of them would make it any better.’

  She didn’t believe this – she had been young and he had bullied her into a bad decision – but she felt it was what he wanted to hear.

  ‘And believe me, Oliver, I have regretted it ever since.’

  ‘So much so you found yourself a brand-new family.’

  ‘What else was I supposed to do? There was nothing for me here – you’d made that very clear – and I still had my whole life ahead of me.’

  ‘So why now? Why come back now, when you have your nice new life? Why come back to this?’

  ‘We’ve been through this,’ Alice replied, failing to conceal her exasperation. ‘I have a daughter, a daughter who had no idea that she had a half-sister until recently. For her sake, I had to come –’

  ‘You shouldn’t have told her.’

  ‘But how could I not? Julia is her flesh and blood. She’s my child.’

  ‘No, she’s my child. You gave up any right to her the day you left.’

  His words cut deep. Alice desperately wanted to respond, to justify herself, but he talked over her.

  ‘I’m the one who brought her up, who educated her. I took her to dance classes, pony clubs, I told her about periods, I comforted her when she got dumped. I did all that, not you.’

  ‘Oliver, please …’

  ‘I got her through her exams, helped her get into university and when … and when she had her accident, I looked after her. I’ve been looking after her for nine years, Alice.’

  ‘I didn’t know about her accident, I didn’t know about any of it.’

  ‘Because you didn’t care. Because you didn’t ask.’

  ‘You would have told me to go to hell.’

  ‘And I would have been right to do so. You’re weak, Alice. And selfish. She was better off without you.’

  Tears pricked Alice’s eyes. Oliver’s words stung, partly because she suspected he might be right. But she refused to be cowed, there was too much at stake.

  ‘If you’d told me she was struggling, if you’d told me what happened, I would have come back, of course I would, but you deliberately kept it from me.’

  Oliver laughed, long and bitterly.

  ‘You kept it from me to hurt me. Just like you’re trying to hurt me now.’

  ‘You have no idea,’ he replied witheringly. ‘No idea what suffering means. With your nice house and your lovely family …’

  He was staring at her intently, in a way that made her feel distinctly uncomfortable. Having been furious with her earlier, now he seemed like he was enjoying himself, enjoying her distress.

  ‘I have spent every spare moment by Julia’s bedside. Caring for her, talking to her, communicating with her. Giving her reason to live. I have sacrificed my own happiness, any chance of another relationship, even my job. And you know what? I did it happily, willingly, because I love my daughter, because she needs me.’

  ‘I know that, Oliver, and I am so grateful to you –’

  ‘And do you know why she needed me, why she was hurting so badly?’

  ‘Because she was struggling with her work, like you said. Because she failed her exams –’

  ‘Because she was raped.’

  Alice stared at him, stunned. She felt like she’d been hit in the stomach, like she couldn’t breathe.

  ‘Raped by an animal who preyed on her naïvety, her youth.’

  ‘No, Oliver …’

  ‘This was a girl, my g
irl, who had her whole life ahead of her. She was bright, and caring, and funny, and beautiful … and he took that all away.’

  ‘I don’t believe you, I don’t …’

  But she did believe him. The naked fury in his eyes was not an act.

  ‘I didn’t know at first, she never told me. But one day I came home to find a farewell note, next to her diary. It was all in there, believe me, but I only read a few words before I was out the door. I had a sense of where she might be going, but I didn’t get there in time.’

  He was breathing heavily, as if the emotion might explode from him at any point.

  ‘I saw her … I saw her on the bridge. I called out to her, but I was too late.’

  In spite of everything, Alice reached out to him, grasping his arm. What Oliver was telling her was beyond awful – and it broke her heart.

  ‘I held her while we waited for the ambulance, kneeling there on the road. I thought I was going to lose her.’

  ‘But you didn’t, you saw her through it.’

  ‘And maybe I shouldn’t have done.’

  ‘Don’t say that. You did the right thing.’

  ‘Did I? Nine years she’s been in that bed. Suffering all sorts of indignities, all sorts of procedures, and for what? She’s lying in that bed now, her lungs filling up, drowning in her own mucus …’

  ‘Please, stop,’ Alice cried, unable to bear it.