Perfect Stranger: A gripping psychological thriller with nail-biting suspense

by Jake Cross

  ‘Maybe a more realistic picture would be a guy strangling his cheating wife.’

  Peripherally he saw Rose’s jaw drop and realised he must have said the wrong thing.

  But Katie didn’t react, except to say, ‘This is very intrusive of me, I know that. But this will be over in a minute and then I’ll get out of your hair.’ She lowered her eyes and timidity coated her next words: ‘Do I have your permission to contact you when I get the results? They come by email in three to five days.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Rose answered for him. ‘Katie, can I ask your birthday?’

  ‘Of course. The fourth of June 2001,’ Katie replied, looking pleased that Rose wanted to know more about her.

  Chris looked at Rose, wondering why she’d really asked. He’d already wondered if she’d thought about the fact that she would have been carrying Julia at the same time that Eve bore Katie – Julia was born only a few weeks later. If so, she hadn’t mentioned it.

  Katie looked at each of them and then lowered her eyes. ‘I was wondering what plans you had this evening? I was thinking we could have a sit-down. Have a proper conversation. I know right now you have to get back to work, but it would be nice if you could spare the time later.’

  ‘I can’t tonight,’ he said, too quickly. He felt Rose stiffen, obviously no fan of his response. But he didn’t backtrack. Couldn’t. ‘One of my daughter’s friends is coming up from university for a few days. I have to pick her up. Then it will be a busy evening of settling her in.’

  She paused. ‘She’s staying here?’

  ‘For a few days, yes. So, unfortunately, I can’t make tonight. But another time?’

  Rose rubbed her chin, one of many giveaways that she was unhappy with his behaviour. But Katie smiled.

  ‘Absolutely fine. Anytime. Anyway, it’s three to five days for the result so I will get out of your hair and leave you alone until then.’

  ‘I didn’t mean we can’t meet up. It’s just—’

  ‘No, it’s fine,’ she cut in. ‘You need time to get your head around this. I get it. It really is fine. It’s probably best if I stay away until the test results are in.’

  ‘If you’re sure. I just don’t want you to think I’m trying to avoid you until we know.’

  Katie shook her head, but Chris could tell the girl wasn’t comfortable. ‘No, Katie, we’ll grab a drink or something before then. Tonight is just bad timing.’

  Some of the warmth radiating off Katie had cooled. It was almost like she’d retreated into a shell of herself. But that sheepishness was absent when she pulled a folded A4 sheet from her pocket and said, ‘I need a swab from you, and a signature. Something to do with the Human Tissue Act.’

  The sheet was an application form. There was a clear box for including a driving licence, which Katie had already taped hers to, and an invoice at the bottom, to which she’d attached a cheque. And she’d signed the form. There was a line for Chris’s signature. He scrawled it with an unsteady hand while Katie extracted oral swabs from the box.

  Again, needing to crack a funny, he showed Rose the cheque and said, ‘So cheap. We could treat John and Carol. We all know their kid’s the spitting image of John’s brother Eric.’

  This time Rose didn’t settle for a sly reprimand, but outright told him to stop acting immature.

  Now eager for something serious to say, something unbidden popped out. ‘Do you hope it’s positive?’

  His question seemed to shock Katie.

  ‘Let’s wait for the results,’ Rose jumped in. ‘Katie has business at the garage and Chris, you have to get back to work. Katie, thank you for returning our property and I want—’

  ‘I just want you both to know that I’m sorry for all this,’ Katie blurted, wringing her hands. ‘I don’t mean harm and I’m not trying to create an awkward situation.’

  Rose touched Katie’s arm. ‘No, Katie, it’s fine.’

  ‘Yes,’ Chris said. Again, all he could think of. Nothing else untoward escaped this time.

  ‘No, I really am sorry.’ Katie’s expression was remote again, as if she was holding back all emotion. But meekness was once again layered upon her tone of voice. ‘I had a father for all my life, and then I got the bombshell that he might not be. I just need to know the truth. If you like, I don’t even have to tell you the results. I can just vanish, and you need never know. But I need this for me. I need to know.’

  The tension pulsing off Katie started to harden Chris’s spirit, as he realised he might not be the weaker one of the pair. ‘No, Katie. No, you go ahead and contact me with the results. Of course I want to know. As soon as you get them. And we’ll take it from there.’

  Meekly, she stumbled through her next sentence: ‘I suppose you’d work it out anyway if I just didn’t contact you, and, sorry, I wasn’t thinking about how you also need to know the truth.’ She held up an oral swab. ‘Perhaps we should get this done before my – before your daughter comes in.’

  She’d corrected herself sharply, but Chris didn’t miss it. It sent a funny tingling through his fingers. My changed to your. Before she said, your daughter, Katie had been about to say my sister.

  Wishful thinking?

  As Rose escorted Katie as she rolled her bike down the driveway, she couldn’t help a glance up and down the street: nosy neighbours might be wondering who this young woman was. She also couldn’t help noticing a curve to Katie’s spine that gave her a slight forward lean, and her own horrible relief that this tall, slim beauty wasn’t a perfect human specimen after all.

  As Katie swung her leg over the ride, her jeans rode up to expose a sockless ankle. And mottled reddish-white skin, raw and nasty. Rose gave it just a glimpse and looked quickly away, revulsion instantly smothered, but Katie hadn’t missed it. Perfectly balanced astride the machine, she raised the same foot onto a handlebar and tugged her trouser leg up another six inches. Now, permission granted, Rose stared. The entire calf was ruined. She knew she was looking at burn scars. This imperfection instilled only pity.

  ‘Engine caught fire at eighty miles an hour,’ Katie said.

  ‘My god. What did you do?’

  ‘Trousers caught fire. I slowed to about forty and just leaped off. The road rash on my butt hurt more.’ She smiled, a great big grin that eased Rose’s awkwardness. ‘No big deal, but both ankles look like I wear lava socks.’

  There was a moment’s silence. Katie cracked her fingers, one at a time. Rose had noticed the young woman cracking her wrists when they first met, and again when Rose had opened the front door to her.

  ‘I have rheumatoid arthritis,’ Rose said. ‘My immune system attacks my own joints. I’ve had it since about your age.’ She showed her own wrists, which were misshapen, like some of the finger knuckles. ‘My hips and shoulders hurt the worst, although I’ve got three toes that don’t bend.’

  Katie looked at her own hands. ‘Oh, I understand. I’m always cracking my wrists. No, my problem isn’t arthritis. My fingers and feet tingle, but it’s just a circulation thing. Thin veins or something.’

  Rose’s hand was still raised and Katie grabbed it. ‘I don’t want either of you to think that I’m trying to find a new father.’

  ‘We don’t… we don’t think that.’

  ‘I don’t know why he was killed.’ Katie let go of Rose’s hand and her eyes dropped to her bike, like a sorry child.

  It took Rose a second to bridge the gap: Ron Hugill, the man Katie had long called father, in error. ‘I read it in the newspaper. His funeral was yesterday. I’m so sorry about that. You’ve had so much pain recently.’

  ‘Ron was a very good man,’ Katie continued. ‘Even when my mother was having her bad days because of the cancer, he was a rock, you know? Good to me. I don’t know why he was killed. He didn’t have any enemies. Everyone liked him. I don’t know why he was killed.’

  ‘It was probably just a robbery. Just… wrong place, wrong time. Thugs like that don’t care. They don’t care who they hurt. Your fathe
r was just very unlucky.’

  She immediately regretted using the word father. Katie only nodded and then started her engine. Rose suddenly hated the thought of Chris and Katie parting with nothing but a plan to wait for the test results.

  A neat idea popped up.

  Ten

  Chris was late back to work, which pleased his boss, Alan, because he got to vent sarcasm. Chris barely heard the rebuke, though, because everything was blurred background scenery and would probably remain so until he got the paternity results. He now had a new worry because Rose, with her misplaced good intentions, had invited Katie to their wedding anniversary on Saturday.

  Her reason was two-fold. Rose had asked if the rest of Katie’s family knew about Chris, but the answer had been no. Eve’s sister, Elaine, was the only member of a shattered family who’d kept in periodic contact with Eve, but Katie had never liked her. Plus, Katie didn’t have many friends. So Rose had wanted to make her feel wanted. But mostly she hoped to make sure Chris and Katie weren’t total strangers when gloriously announced as father and daughter. ‘What better chance for some bonding than a party?’ she’d said.

  He didn’t like it. ‘And what if the result comes back negative?’

  ‘You think I didn’t think about that? If we have a negative result by then, Katie might just vanish. But I think the party would be a good way of saying goodbye and good luck. There’s no doubting that you knew her mother. That’s fact. You and Katie have still had an impact on each other’s lives and it wouldn’t be right to just shoo her away as if she was nothing more than a waitress who brought food.’

  Good point, but he still didn’t like it. But the girl had accepted the invite, so it was happening. And his anxiety hadn’t been helped by Rose’s damn joke that he should be thankful Eve Levine hadn’t had triplets.

  Even so, he managed to get on with his job. Louise called him over to the Enterics bench. He remembered she wanted that shift swap for this weekend, but he’d forgotten to ask Rose’s permission. Which was good, because when he’d told Louise he’d think about it, he had forgotten about the anniversary party. As he walked over, he plucked up the courage to tell her.

  ‘Ask your ball and chain about that swap?’ Louise predictably said.

  The courage failed him. ‘She’s checking to see what we’ve got on. I’ll let you know tomorrow.’

  She had a stool sample on the bench. He picked up the form. From the Emergency Medicine Unit, a temporary assessment feeder ward from A&E.

  ‘You mean you forgot?’ she said.

  Raymond Monroe, 34, serious gastroenteritis. Suspected E. coli 0157. An awkward little alien intruder because it was booby trapped. Antibiotics could kill it, but after death it released serious toxins that could turn a host’s bad day worse. So right now, Raymond Monroe wouldn’t be getting any medicine, not until his carers knew more.

  ‘Oh yes,’ Chris answered as he pulled out his phone and booted up Facebook.

  ‘Phone her now, could you? I need to let my boyfriend know.’

  ‘Which one?’

  She elbowed his arm and he told her he’d ask tonight. Tomorrow, he’d tell Louise that he’d forgotten about the anniversary party. He was back at his bench only seconds before Louise shouted his name again.

  ‘I’ll call her on the way home,’ he yelled without looking, and with no intention of doing any such thing.

  ‘Not that. Where’s the Enterics kits?’

  She was now by the supplies cupboard, looking annoyed. He stared at her and his silence told her what she needed to know.

  ‘Christ, Chris, is there anything you can remember? Is that why you wear a name badge?’

  Uncommon anger from her. He told her he’d order the kits right away.

  ‘I need it here right now. It should have been here today. It won’t come till tomorrow.’

  His own anger started to simmer. He had bigger worries. ‘So why didn’t Alan order it?’

  ‘He asked me to. And I asked you. I’ve got this test to do.’

  The BDMAX machine was fast and accurate at identifying the presence of certain bacteria, including the nasty E. coli 0157. But the test could still be done manually.

  ‘So do a damn Sorbitol test and stop being lazy,’ he snapped. Loud. Others looked around. Louise pulled a face and returned to her bench. Maybe she would have argued further if she wasn’t eager for that shift swap. Which she wasn’t getting.

  Show over, he hopped on the computer to order the kits. As he typed, he wondered what changes to his life a positive paternity result might mean. He’d been terrified about a meteoric shifting of land mass in his world, but that didn’t have to be the case, did it? It wasn’t as if he and Katie had had a long life together. They barely knew each other, lived in separate worlds; maybe Katie, even following a positive result, had no plans to keep in touch.

  He looked over at Alan’s office. The boss had a grown son he hardly saw. Plenty of adult children flew the nest and hardly saw their parents thereafter. Maybe Chris and Katie would just shake hands and never see each other again.

  That thought eased him a little.

  Later, he sat at one of the computers to input a result on a pregnancy test. Louise was already at the other computer. He ignored her, but his peripheral vision caught her staring at him.

  ‘What?’ he said.

  ‘I apologise.’

  He softened. He turned his chair to face her and she showed her monitor. He saw that she’d written up the result of her test on Raymond Monroe’s sample. Negative for E. coli 0157.

  ‘For sure?’ he said.

  ‘Yeah, I did the manual. Pink all over the plate. No E. coli.’

  ‘Then he can go ahead and get antibiotics. Well done.’

  ‘Thank you. And I’m sorry for shouting at you earlier. I’m just bitchy today because Joe’s not back now until early Friday. But we argued because he wants to pop to Bradford to see his brother before he sees me.’

  Joe, one of two boyfriends, worked on an oil rig, two weeks straight then two off. He only got the chance to see Louise for a couple of days a month. Most of the lab joked that he had another family somewhere. Not something Chris would laugh at right now, of course.

  But he focussed on something else she’d said. Popping to Bradford. The city was only an hour’s drive away.

  Eleven

  Chris pulled into the car park of The Blue Swan in Bradford and sat staring at the building.

  He remembered the first time that Eve had hinted at continuing their relationship. In White River State Park. If you and your friends are ever on a pub crawl, she’d said, I’ll get my dad to do happy hour prices for you. We run The Blue Swan.

  Will do, he’d replied. Just a throwaway answer at the time, but back home and during a pub crawl with pals, he’d mentioned the happy hour promise. They’d said no, too far away, and besides, he’d started seeing a sexy young gymnast called Rose by then.

  He’d given that false name and no address, no place of work or friends’ names or anything else Eve could have used to trace him. He wasn’t sure why, but once they’d started to enjoy the day, he’d felt that admitting a lie might put her off, so he’d stuck with it. The same weakness that had prevented him from telling Louise why he couldn’t do her shift swap. If he had had any plans to see Eve again, of course he would have told her his real name. But he hadn’t. So, he hadn’t.

  He stared at the pub. A two-storey detached red structure with a small white stone outbuilding. It was for sale at just over two hundred thousand, now closed, rundown, and maybe symbolic of Eve’s mental state as her efforts to find Katie’s father slowed, faltered, stalled and finally died. He pictured her beyond that outer wall, cancer-ridden and popping pills, passing the search for Chris onto Katie with her devastating revelation. Then he imagined the place in its heyday, bloated with customers, Eve working the bar for her parents, while upstairs a baby girl slept. What might have been? Maybe Chris would have ended up running the place with her. He cou
ld be chairman of a pool league that Katie played in as a teenager. He could have developed a whole new social circle. His errant sister and Katie, what kind of relationship might they have had? Perhaps in some alternate universe a relationship with Eve Levine might have resulted in his own mother not dying, since she’d been driving to visit Julia with birthday presents when a non-fatal heart attack sent her car into a lethal somersault – ten years next July, that. Maybe she would have had that heart attack at home and got necessary treatment, and survived. Consequently, his sister, Lindsay, might not have gone spinning off the rails, and she’d have a rich husband and a house on the same street. Who knew?

  Chris forgot about parallel universes as he spotted a little human figure attached to the keystone above the arched wooden double doors of the pub. He got out of the car and approached for a closer look. It was a doll in a dress, secured there by string around the neck. The plastic skin and the clothing and the hair were grimy, as if from the pollution of a billion passing vehicles. A strange decoration for a pub, but Eve had had a little doll hanging from her keys, way back. He remembered it now, for the first time in all that time. Had she called it a lucky charm? Something passed down the family? He couldn’t recall. But the one above the door struck him as a sign of her presence. Like her seal. Or, now, like her ghost’s calling card.

  He strolled to the large front window, which was whitewashed, and found a gap to peer through. The lounge beyond was dim and empty. No tables or chairs, no jukebox or pool table, and although the bar had pumps, the shelves behind it were bare and there were spaces that he guessed had once contained tall fridges for bottles. The place looked like it had been out of action for a long time. Long before Eve Levine had died.

  He tried to picture himself behind that bar, Eve by his side, but quickly shut it down. Looking at the past was such a daft thing to do because you couldn’t change it, and there was no guarantee of what might have been even if you could go back. He could have dated Eve and raised Katie and bonded with her entire family, and every single one of them could have died in a gruesome pub fire ten years ago.