The Colour of the Soul

by Richard T. Burke

  “What do you mean, when you say it was a blank?”

  Annalise glanced at Dobson. He signalled his agreement to proceed with the slightest tilt of his head. “I had a session with a hypnotherapist this morning. I remembered some of what happened prior to the accident.”

  “Tell me what you do remember, then.”

  “My boyfriend and I were—”

  “Just for the record that would be Mark Webber, wouldn’t it?” the policeman interrupted.

  “Yes. Mark Webber and I were driving to Lymington. We were planning to have lunch at Lyndhurst. We stopped for fuel. As we left the petrol station, Mark told me he was responsible for his parents’ deaths.”

  Davies leaned forwards. “What is the relevance of this, Miss Becker?”

  “You asked my client what she remembered, and she’s answering your question,” Dobson snapped.

  “I’m not interested in your boyfriend’s background. I want to know what you can tell me about the crash.”

  Annalise shook her head. “I don’t recall anything.”

  Davies folded his arms. “Do you have a driving licence, Miss Becker?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you insured to drive Mr Webber’s vehicle?”

  “No, not as far as I’m aware.”

  “What is the point of these questions?” Dobson said. “You already know the answers.”

  “And yet you were the driver of the car when it collided with Mr Parker’s, causing the severe trauma that led directly to his death.”

  “Don’t answer that,” Dobson growled. He transferred his attention to the policeman. “Miss Becker has just told you she has no memory of the events immediately prior to the collision. We have expert medical advice that will testify to the fact that her injuries have resulted in serious damage to her brain, preventing her from retrieving her memories. Your only source of information is the owner of the vehicle in question, and he has a vested interest in the outcome. We both know you don’t have a case.”

  Davies opened the folder and flicked through the pages until he came to a series of photographs. He removed one, turned it around and placed it before Annalise. He tapped a finger on the image. “This is the other car after the accident, Miss Becker. It used to be a Fiat five hundred, although you can’t really tell anymore.”

  Annalise swallowed hard as she stared at the scene of devastation. The front of the blue vehicle was a crumpled mass of twisted metal concertinaed to a quarter of its original length. A spider web of cracks extended over the windscreen on the driver’s side except for a jagged, circular hole.

  Dobson placed his hand over the print. “You’re trying to intimidate my client.” He swivelled to face Annalise. “You don’t need to look at this stuff.”

  The policeman extracted another photograph and positioned it alongside the first. “This is a shot from inside the vehicle. The red patch on the glass is blood from the impact of Mr Parker’s head.”

  Annalise turned away. She couldn’t help but notice out of the corner of her eye the roiling purple clouds swirling around the DCI.

  Davies slammed a third picture down beside the other two. “This is Mr Parker before they took him to the morgue.” Annalise flicked a quick glance at the latest addition. A body bag lay on the ground. The wearer of a pair of black trousers stood at the edge of the shot, but only the lower part of his legs was visible.

  The band surrounding the policeman’s head turned darker, streaks of inky blackness interspersing the lighter hues.

  “That’s enough. DCI Davies,” Dobson said, standing and pushing his chair back. “My client has already told you she remembers nothing about the accident. This is intimidation, pure and simple.”

  Annalise closed her eyes. The angry voice of her solicitor assaulted her hearing but didn’t register on her brain. A pressure wave seemed to build in her skull. Every sound took on a muffled quality. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table and covered her ears. A sudden vision of the inside of the car flashed into her head. The vehicle was gyrating wildly through the air. Her hand gripped the steering wheel. A bone-jarring crash pulverised her body, smashing her sideways. She opened her mouth and screamed. The tendons in her neck stretched taut like ropes. Only when she had exhausted all the oxygen in her lungs, did she stop.

  The door crashed open and two wide-eyed policemen stared into the room.

  “Somebody call a doctor,” the solicitor yelled.

  Dan placed an arm around his daughter’s shoulder and pulled her tight. “It’s okay. It’s alright. I’m here.”

  Annalise leaned into his chest and sobbed, her shoulders heaving with each intake of breath. Over the course of the next few minutes, she gradually regained her self-control. She retrieved the handkerchief from the pocket of her jeans and wiped away the combination of tears and mucus streaking her face. She lifted her gaze to the two policemen who remained in the doorway. “Sorry, I’m alright now. I think my memory’s starting to return. I had a flashback to the accident.”

  One of the men shrugged his shoulders and turned to leave. “Do you want me to stay, TT?” the other asked.

  Davies shot an angry glance at his colleague. “We’re just finishing up here. I can manage by myself. And don’t call me that, or you’ll find yourself in hot water.”

  The man backed out. “Whatever you say ... TT.”

  The DCI frowned at Annalise. “So I take it after that little performance you’ve remembered something.”

  “No, I think this interview is over. We’re leaving,” Dobson leaned forward with his hands on the table. “We’ll also be submitting a report to the Police Complaints Commission.”

  “Yes, actually I have,” Annalise said, ignoring her solicitor. “I still can’t remember what happened before the accident, but some memories of the crash itself have returned. My hand was on the steering wheel ...”

  Davies sat back with a smug grin. “Thank you.”

  “... but I wasn’t driving.”

  The self-satisfied smirk faded. Confusion clouded his face. “What? I don’t understand.”

  “I was holding the wheel, but I was sitting in the passenger seat.”

  “You better explain.”

  “I was trying to get Mark to pull over to the side.”

  It was Derek Dobson’s turn to smile. “It seems you have the wrong suspect, DCI Davies.”

  Chapter 42

  “I heard one of the other policemen refer to DCI Davies as TT. Does his middle name begin with T or something?”

  Alan Billings grinned. Dan and Annalise Becker sat before him. The three of them occupied a private office that was far more salubrious than the stark interview room. Father and daughter had requested a chat with him before leaving the police station. The grapevine was in full swing about the screaming incident. It seemed his fellow officer was in a spot of hot water. It couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.

  “No, it’s not that.”

  Dan repeated his question. “So what do the initials stand for?”

  “DCI Davies isn’t popular around here. The TT is an abbreviation of Tony Toenails.”

  Dan shook his head. “Toenails? Why do they call him that?”

  Billings leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I shouldn’t really tell you this, but his nickname is Toenails because he’s so far up the Superintendent’s arse, that’s all you can see sticking out.”

  Dan suppressed a guffaw. “Right, I understand.”

  “Actually, there’s more to it than that. A couple of years ago, one of the constables stopped a lad he suspected of carrying drugs. It turned out he was in possession, but the boy was the son of another officer. It was a first offence, and there’s a certain amount of leeway in whether they decide to prosecute. The boy’s father persuaded his colleague, the arresting officer, to let his son off with a warning.

  “Anyway, DCI Davies got to hear about this and took it up the chain of command. Both men ended up losing their jobs. To say old Toenails is unpopu
lar would be an understatement. Shortly afterwards, he transferred to Traffic. So, other than explaining my colleague’s nickname, what can I do for you?”

  Dan’s face acquired a serious cast. “Do you think it’s safe to move back home, yet?”

  “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea until we catch the man responsible.”

  “Okay. I guess we’ll have to extend our stay at the hotel, then.”

  “That would be my recommendation. So I hear some of your memories have returned,” the policeman said, turning to Annalise.

  She shook herself out of her reverie. She had been lost in her own thoughts and hadn’t been listening to the previous conversation. “Yeah, it looks like my so-called boyfriend tried to frame me for the accident. That has to be why he proposed to me. He wasn’t thinking about me; he was thinking about himself. It must have occurred to him that if we were married, I wouldn’t be able to testify against him, the bastard.”

  “It sounds as if you made the right decision by saying no,” Billings said.

  “I suppose. Look ... there’s something else that’s been bothering me.”

  The policeman frowned. “I’m assuming it’s to do with the attack.”

  “Yeah. You know I saw a hypnotherapist to see if she could help me retrieve my memories?”

  “I wasn’t aware of that, but I can understand why you’d want to.”

  “So, I had the first session this morning.”

  “And did you remember anything?”

  “Yes, that’s what I wanted to talk about. The woman who hypnotised me took me back to the day of the accident. We were driving to the south coast. Halfway through the journey, we stopped for fuel. When Mark returned to the car after filling up, he was all serious, like he had this big secret he needed to confess.”

  Billings’ forehead creased in puzzlement. “I’m guessing what he told you might be relevant to the murder case?”

  Annalise shrugged. “Maybe. I can’t really be sure. Unfortunately, the hypnotherapist brought me out of the session before I remembered everything. The last thing I can recall is that he admitted to being responsible for the deaths of his parents.”

  The policeman scratched the back of his head. “That explains something.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Obviously we looked into your boyfriend’s—”

  “Former boyfriend,” Annalise interjected.

  “Right. As I was saying, the fact he went out on a date with the murdered girl made him a person of interest in our investigation. When his name first came up, I checked to see if he had a criminal record. It turned out his case files were sealed when he was eleven years old.”

  “Why would they do that?” Dan asked.

  “There are several reasons, but it’s unusual for children that young unless they were the victims of domestic abuse or something like that.”

  “I’m assuming the same would apply if they were involved in a serious crime,” Dan added.

  “Correct. So, do you know in what way he was responsible?”

  Annalise blushed. “Um ... I promised I’d keep it a secret, but as it happens, I can’t remember anyway.”

  “It doesn’t matter what promises you gave him,” Dan said, “especially after what he’s done to you. If it could help catch the person behind these attacks, you’ve got to tell the police.”

  “I know, but I genuinely can’t remember.”

  Dan turned to Billings. “Did you ask him why the file was sealed?”

  “He made it very clear it was none of my business.”

  “So you never read his records?”

  “No, it needs a judge to approve access, and I’d have to demonstrate they were relevant to my investigation.”

  Annalise tugged at her bottom lip. “You don’t think Mark’s involved somehow, do you?”

  “We investigated him pretty thoroughly after the murder,” Billings replied. “At the time, we ruled him out of our enquiries, but I don’t like coincidences. I wasn’t going to request a look at his file, but now I might just change my mind. The only problem is it could take three or four days to persuade first the Chief and then the judge to give me permission.”

  Dan sat forwards. “Hang on. Can’t you search your databases for a married couple who died together at around that time?”

  “That’s not a bad idea, but we’d still be guessing. The best bet is to get access to the file.”

  “In light of what Annalise has remembered, isn’t it worth having another chat with him?”

  “I’ll certainly be paying Mr Webber a visit. I’d be surprised if DCI Davies isn’t having the same thoughts seeing as how the main witness in his case has now turned into his prime suspect.”

  “I still can’t believe—”

  Annalise interrupted her father. “Why don’t we bring forward the next hypnotherapy session?”

  Both men stared at her in silence.

  “At the moment it’s scheduled for Wednesday afternoon,” she continued. “We could call Mrs Haseldene and ask if she can fit me in earlier. If we told her it was to assist the police with an investigation, I’m sure she’d help.”

  “That would be very helpful,” Billings said. “At least I’d know whether it was worth spending the time to fill in the paperwork.”

  Dan turned to his daughter, a look of concern etched on his face. “Rachel did warn about rushing things. She proved today that the memories are still there. Your subconscious is trying to protect your conscious mind. I’m not convinced it’s a great plan to bypass that.”

  “You have no idea how frustrating it is being unable to remember what happened. I just want to know the truth, however bad it is.”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Look, at least give her a call. I’m tired of living like this, hiding away from some psychopathic killer. If I have the clue that we need to catch him sitting inside my head ...”

  “We can’t be certain you do have the answer, Annalise.”

  Billings rubbed his face between his palms. “Obviously I don’t want to pressurise you into doing this, especially if it might impact your health, but the more information we have, the better our chances of catching this man before he hurts anybody else.”

  “Alright, I’ll call her,” Dan said. “But I’ll only agree if she thinks it’s safe.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “That’s all I’m asking,” Billings said.

  Chapter 43

  The Becker family were gathered in the hotel lounge. They had just finished eating in the restaurant and sat in the low-slung armchairs around the wooden table on which their drinks rested. All the females were drinking Coke although Beatrice’s glass remained almost full as she concentrated on her phone’s screen.

  Dan sipped a pint of bitter then carefully placed it back on the beer mat. “We’ll have to get up a bit earlier than we did this morning. We need to be at the hypnotherapist’s by nine o’clock.”

  Beatrice glanced up from the display. “Can’t I stay here?”

  “What about school?” her mother asked.

  The girl shrugged. “It’s the start of term. I won’t be missing much.”

  “We have to check out by ten,” Dan said, “so we’ll all have to leave together. We can go back to the house for the time being. I’ll confirm with DCI Billings whether he thinks we should book another night when I call to let him know the results of the hypnotherapy session.”

  “I’ll work at home then.”

  “Are you going to do any studying if you’re not at school?” Sophie asked. “You seem to spend all your life playing with your phone.”

  Beatrice sighed. “I’m not playing, I’m communicating.”

  “Who with?”

  “Oh, just some friends. You do want me to have friends, don’t you?”

  Dan tutted. “What’s wrong with actually speaking to them?”

  “I can’t really speak to them if I’m stuck here, can I? Anyway, it’s not like it was in yo
ur day. Everybody uses apps to talk.”

  Sophie caught her husband’s eye and gave an almost imperceptible shake of the head. “The world’s gone mad. So if you stay at home, you’ll do some school work, right?”

  Beatrice looked up. “I said I would, didn’t I? I’ve got all the books I need in my room. My friends will all be in lessons, so there won’t be anybody to message, anyway.” She clicked a button on the phone, placed it on the table and picked up her drink.

  Annalise tuned out the conversation. Her eyes roamed across the other occupants of the lounge. Her gaze settled on a smartly dressed couple who appeared to be in their late thirties or early forties. The man leaned forwards and said something in a low voice. The woman put her glass down and sat with folded arms. Her aura undulated in shades of pink. As Annalise watched, the haze behind the man darkened to an intense grey colour. He rose to his feet and spoke again to the woman. She remained seated and avoided eye contact. He stared at her for a few seconds then shook his head and strode towards the door.

  Annalise allowed her mind to wander. What had he done to be displaying such dark tones?

  Perhaps he wanted to murder her, she thought. Or maybe he’s planning a fraud of some sort.

  Sensing the focus of Annalise’s attention, the woman glanced over, an unreadable expression on her face. When Annalise turned away, the woman stood and headed towards the bar.

  “Annalise?” Dan said.

  “Sorry, what did you say? I was thinking about something else.”

  “I asked how you were feeling.”

  “Okay, I suppose. I’ve got a bit of a headache.”

  “That’s not surprising, really. A lot has happened today. Are you sure you’re happy to go through with this session tomorrow?”

  Annalise’s forehead creased in consternation. “I just want to get my memory back, and if what I find out helps capture the man who’s responsible for all this, then all the better.”

  A ping originated from the tabletop. Beatrice snatched up the mobile. Her fingers danced over the keys of the lock screen. She quickly scanned the message.

  “I’m going outside for some fresh air,” she announced.