The Dark Series

by Catherine Lee

  “Where the hell is all this coming from? You were never like this, Evie. What has that heart done to you?” Taylor was mortified the moment the words left her mouth, but they were out there, and they couldn’t be taken back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

  “Get out.”

  “Evie, please.” Taylor’s eyes welled, they pleaded for forgiveness.

  For the first time in her life Eva turned her back on her friend. “Get out,” she repeated.

  Taylor picked up her bag and walked out the door in silence. After a few moments there was a soft knock, and Andrew opened it enough to put his head around.

  “Safe to come back in?”

  “Sure. Thanks, Andy,” she said. Andrew looked confused, and Eva back-pedalled. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have called you that.”

  “No, it’s okay,” he replied, opening the door wide and stepping in. “My friends call me Andy. It was just unexpected from you.” He smiled at her, and for a moment Eva forgot all about the heart.

  “Hello again.”

  Eva’s concentration broke and she saw that Georgie had followed Andrew in.

  “Hi. Thanks for coming back.”

  “No problem,” replied Georgie. “I think I can help.”

  “Let’s do it then.” Eva didn’t want to waste any more time.

  “What happened to Taylor?” asked Andrew.

  “She had to leave,” replied Eva, with a look that ensured no further questions were asked.

  Georgie settled herself in the chair by the bed, while Andrew stood by the window, out of the way.

  “Okay,” Georgie began, “remember when we spoke about being calm, letting the memory come to you? Don’t try and force it, and don’t fight it, either. Close your eyes, Eva.”

  Eva did as she was instructed. There were no issues as far as forcing the memory; it had such a strong presence. It wasn’t long before she was back in that house walking toward the woman.

  “I see her again,” she said.

  “That’s good. Now, I want you to see if you can slow the memory down, even stop it if you can. Remember you’re here, in the hospital, not in the room. You are holding my hand, you’re completely safe. Can you slow the memory down?”

  Eva was walking toward the woman, that now familiar feeling of excitement and anticipation accompanying every step. She stopped, finding it surprisingly easy to capture the scene in a kind of freeze-frame, as if it were a DVD and she had pressed the pause button.

  “I’ve stopped it,” she said. “I’m holding the sunflower, it’s bright and beautiful.”

  “Good. Any more details about the room?”

  “It’s still empty. It’s not a big room, I mean, it is big because it’s a kind of combined living and kitchen area, but by comparison to some houses it’s not big. That’s all I can see.”

  “That’s great. Okay, I’m going to ask you now if you can take a couple of steps backwards. Just a couple of steps, nice and slow, as if you were rewinding a tape.”

  Eva took a couple of moments to concentrate on her breathing. Nice and steady; in, out, all the while maintaining the frozen image in her mind. Then she took a step backwards. Again, it wasn’t as hard as she thought. She took another step, and another.

  “I’m going backwards.”

  “Keep going, you’re doing great. Have you reached the door?”

  “I’m at the door now. Going back through it. It’s a solid door, painted white, with three glass panels.”

  “Can you describe the panels? How are they arranged in the door?”

  “They’re vertical rectangles, arranged diagonally down the door. You know, one on the top left, one in the middle, one bottom right.”

  “Is there a screen door?”

  “No, no screen.”

  “Okay Eva, keep moving backwards. What else can you see?”

  “I’m on a patio. It’s tiled, black and white like a chess board. There’s three, no, four steps down to a small garden. I’m walking back through the garden, through the gate. A little white-painted iron gate, in a brick wall. The bricks of the wall match the bricks of the house.” Eva was starting to get excited now. She was talking faster.

  “You’re outside the house now, on the footpath?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you freeze it there?”

  “Yes, I’ve stopped. I can see the house. There’s a for sale sign in the garden.”

  “What agency?” Andrew’s voice threw Eva, and she opened her eyes just in time to see the look Georgie shot him. “Sorry,” he whispered.

  Eva closed her eyes again and she was back in front of the house.

  “I can’t make out the agency, but it starts with L. There are two names, the first one starts with L.”

  “Lexman and Jones, that was the agency Grant worked for.” Andrew again.

  “Keep looking at the house,” said Georgie, getting Eva’s attention back. “What else can you tell me about the house?”

  “The windows. It has windows that slant. They’re on an angle.”

  “What do you mean, on an angle?”

  “They slant outwards as they go up. Oh my God!” Eva’s eyes flew open. Andrew came rushing forward. “Oh my God,” she repeated, heart racing now.

  “What is it, Eva? What did you see?” Even Georgie’s voice was no longer calm.

  “The house, that house. I know that house.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The windows and the door, and the old white tyres made into planters that look like swans. I know that house. I was born in that house.”

  “What do you mean—”

  “How—”

  Andrew and Georgie were both firing questions at once. Eva shut them out, trying to concentrate. Was it the same house? She’d only seen it a few times. They’d moved out before she was even a year old. Her dad had told her the story many times of how she was born, and she begged him to show her the house. One day he picked her up from school and they went for a drive, just the two of them.

  “Where are we going, Daddy?” she’d asked when he missed the usual turn-off.

  “You’ll see when we get there.”

  So she had waited, content with watching all the houses drift by as they drove through the unfamiliar neighbourhood. When you’re eight years old, even the mundane can be fascinating. Soon enough they pulled up outside a house. The house Eva now saw in her heart.

  “That’s where you were born, kiddo,” her dad had said. “Too impatient to wait for the ambulance, your mum had you right there on the kitchen floor.”

  “In that house, Daddy?”

  “In that very house.” He had gone on to explain how he and her mother lived in a tiny flat when they were first married, and worked for two years to save the deposit for this house.

  “So proud of it, we were,” he’d told her with a smile. “Our first real home.”

  “Why did we move then, Daddy?”

  Eva remembered how his brow had creased when she’d asked him this.

  “You know, I’m still not really sure. It was your mother’s idea. We needed something bigger if we were going to have more kids, she said. She never did settle in that house.”

  Looking at the house in her mind now, Eva was almost sure it was the same one. She’d driven past it herself a few times over the years as an adult, always getting a little kick out of being born on the kitchen floor.

  “Eva?” Andrew was calling her name. She looked at him as if registering him for the first time, before realising he and Georgie must both be as confused as she was.

  “It’s the first house my parents owned,” she explained. “I only lived there a short time, less than a year, but Dad took me to see it once. I don’t know the address, but I know where it is.”

  “Can you tell me how to get there?” asked Andrew. He was already half out the door.

  “What are you going to do?” asked Georgie.

  “I’m going over there, of course.”

  “But
we don’t even know if Amanda is there. This is a house from Eva’s past, not Fraser Grant’s. She must have two memories mixed up. You’re sure it’s the same house?” she asked Eva.

  “I’ve only seen it a few times, but the front of the house is very distinctive. The windows, and the black and white tiles. I’m pretty confident it’s the same house.”

  “Look,” said Andrew, “I don’t care if it’s a house from Eva’s past, I don’t care if she’s got some sort of memory-wires crossed, I’ve got to check it out. If there’s even the slightest chance Amanda could be there, I have to go. What else do we have to go on?”

  “He’s right,” said Eva. “Here, help me with this.” She started removing the wires from the electrodes stuck on her chest.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” said Andrew.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “No chance,” he said, grabbing her hands to stop her pulling the drip out of her arm. “I have no intention of answering to your mother. Remember what happened last night? What Dr Graham said this morning? You’re not well enough to leave the hospital, Eva.”

  “Oh come on, don’t you start. I’m fine. I didn’t have a bloody leg transplant. And I’m breathing better now than I have for months. I’m sick of being wrapped up in cotton wool.” She pushed Andrew away and swung her legs over the side of the bed, but Georgie grabbed her wrist before she could remove the drip.

  “No, Eva. Andrew is right, you can’t leave the hospital.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. Your body is too fragile, your heart is too fragile. You need to protect it. I’ll go. We’ll have you on the phone the whole time. Give me your number.” She took out her mobile and entered the number Eva recited. Georgie sent a text to confirm, then helped Eva get settled back into the bed.

  Eva sighed. She knew they were right.

  “I’ll text the directions,” she said. Andrew and Georgie hurried out of the room, leaving her to rest her head back on the pillow and try to figure out the quickest way to the house from here.

  34

  Cooper hated playing this waiting game. He’d sent one of the junior strike force detectives to go through every book in Grant’s apartment, on the off-chance that bill or another was still there, but he didn’t hold out much hope. Grant would have been spooked by his old man finding it, and would have made sure that couldn’t happen again.

  Jack had just polished off his fourth cup of tea for the morning, and was now, not surprisingly, in the men’s room. He still hadn’t come up with a name, and Cooper was wondering if he was ever going to, when he burst through the door back into the main operations room.

  “I’ve got it! Geoff something, the name was.”

  “Are you sure?” Cooper had sat here for the last twenty minutes listening to Jack go through at least half a dozen names. Each time he thought he was sure, then changed his mind. It was testing Cooper’s patience.

  “Yes, it’s Geoff. I can see it on the envelope.”

  He hadn’t been this sure of any other names. Cooper’s hopes were raised once more.

  “What about a surname?”

  “Starts with P. Ordinary sounding name.” Jack thought for a minute. “No, can’t think of it. But a regular name, Peters, Peterson, something like that.”

  Cooper sensed it was the most he was going to get.

  “Listen, Jack, you’ve been a great help today. I want you to know, we really appreciate it. I really appreciate it.” Cooper took the man’s hand and gave it a sincere shake.

  Jack just nodded. “I hope you find her, Detective. For everyone’s sake.”

  As Cooper was organising someone to take Jack home, Quinn came rushing down the corridor. He waited until Jack was led away and then couldn’t contain himself any longer.

  “Boss. We’ve called all the hardware stores within a 50k radius of Glebe, and there’s one sale that’s a close match. Hardware store in Kirrawee. He must have been heading south.”

  “Good work, Joey. We’ve also got a partial name from the old man. Geoff, and a surname beginning with P.” Cooper explained the bill Jack had found years ago. “And, Jack never saw him on weekends either. It’s got to be a fake identity. He could have been a completely different person on weekends. This Geoff somebody. Listen, all his office files were brought here into evidence, weren’t they?”

  “Yep. Should be still downstairs.”

  “Come on, we need to go through those files again. Grab Davis and Saulwick on the way. They can help. We’ll need the documents we pulled from his apartment as well.” Cooper hesitated. “On second thought, I’ll get that sorted. You brief Munro.”

  Within fifteen minutes they had all the relevant boxes of files identified and brought up to the largest meeting room. All the members of Strike Force Darby not out on other assignments had assembled, sensing a breakthrough, which Cooper took full advantage of.

  “Right, I don’t want to see anyone standing around. We’ve got two fresh leads to follow up here.” He noticed Munro joining them as he was explaining about the paint and the name. “So we’re looking for anything that has the name Geoff P, or anything similar. Pay particular attention to areas in the south. Get busy people. Amanda Fox is out there somewhere.”

  “Nice work,” said Munro as Cooper opened his first file box.

  “We haven’t found her yet, Sarge, but I gotta tell you I’m feeling pumped about this.”

  “Quinn says your theory is he was using a false identity, living a second life on weekends.”

  “It makes sense, Sarge. It’s the first thing in this whole damn case that has made sense. He lives the city lifestyle through the week, then heads to the country house for the weekend. Somewhere quiet, isolated, where he can keep a prisoner for a month without anyone being suspicious. He was a real estate agent, and a good one according to his boss. We already figured it’s feasible he could have another property, why not another identity? He spent seventeen years inside. You can learn a lot about identity theft in there, if you get in with the right crims.”

  “So no-one saw him in the city on weekends, then?”

  “No. His father said he worked weekends, but I checked that out and he hasn’t worked weekends for at least five years. He had some sort of deal going with the owner of the agency. The owner was happy because Grant was the number one salesman. As long as he kept pulling in the dough, he could do whatever he wanted. Certainly he had enough freedom to come and go as he pleased, giving him plenty of time to stalk his victims.”

  “Alright, get on with it. Need any more bodies?”

  Cooper looked around. There were more than enough people crowding the room.

  “Don’t think so, looks like most of the team are already here. If there’s something in these boxes, hopefully we’ll find it before too long.”

  Munro nodded and went back to his office. Cooper took another moment to go over it in his head. He thought of all the victims he couldn’t save, all the years Fraser Grant had gotten the better of him. Not this time. There was one more woman out there, and this one he was determined to bring home alive. He turned back to his file box and started searching.

  By one o’clock they had been through half of the files with no luck. Cooper sent a junior analyst to the canteen for a load of sandwiches. He didn’t want people drifting away to eat at a time like this. Halfway through a ham and pickle sandwich, he made the breakthrough he’d waited almost ten years for.

  “Sarge!” he called out. “Sarge! I’ve got it! You little beauty!”

  Munro stood in the doorway to his office, forefinger wiping mayonnaise from his chin.

  “What have you got?”

  All eyes were now on Cooper.

  “Sale of a property in Darkes Forest to a Geoff Patterson back in July 2001. Right before the property boom. Got it for a good price. Probably worth at least double that now.”

  “Where’s Darkes Forest?” asked Davis.

  “That’s down south, near Helens
burgh,” said Quinn, eyes lit up.

  “Yep. I reckon this could be it.” Cooper could barely contain his delight.

  Munro started issuing orders.

  “Quinn, get on to the registry office and check out this Geoff Patterson. See if he’s real or a stolen identity. Cooper, talk to the owner of Lexman and Jones, or somebody there. See if anyone remembers anything about the sale. The rest of you keep looking, just in case this isn’t it.”

  Cooper had already picked up the phone and was dialling the Lexman and Jones office before Munro finished speaking. The owner wasn’t available but the receptionist went off to get the office manager, who’d apparently been there for almost twenty years. Cooper paced the floor, as much as the phone cord would allow, waiting for the woman to drag herself to the phone. When she finally did, Cooper explained what he wanted and, thankfully, the office manager said she remembered the sale. It was one of the first sales closed by Fraser Grant, and the whole office had been impressed at the time. The house was old and musty, hadn’t been occupied for well over a year. Other agents had difficulty even getting buyers to go inside. Plus, it was so far away from the office. It was owned by a family friend of one of the directors. No-one wanted it. Fraser had been in property management back then, but was itching to get into sales. The directors gave him the Darkes Forest listing as a challenge — sell that place and we’ll see. Fraser had sold the house within a couple of months. Cooper asked the woman if she remembered the buyer.

  “Well, no,” she replied. “That was the funny thing about it. Everything went through Fraser. He said the buyer was an old gentleman who couldn’t get around terribly well, so Fraser took all the documents to him. A couple of the other agents joked that there really was no buyer, that Fraser had made him up, but no-one really believed that. It’s not too unusual for a buyer to never set foot in the agency office. And no-one really cared, to tell you the truth. As long as that house was off our list, everyone was happy.”

  “So Fraser sold the house to someone nobody else ever saw, and in return he was promoted to sales. Is that right?”