by Gayle Curtis
In his dream, he found himself looking around for his younger son, who had begun to cry. He started looking under restaurant tables, but he couldn’t find him. Nathaniel woke from this dream, convinced Buddy was crying, and it wasn’t until he reached the door of his cell that the realisation of where he was hit him again. He lay back down, and when he drifted off again he found himself back in the restaurant.
The table where he found Ida was set for two and covered in a bright white tablecloth; glasses and cutlery were laid out, ready for a meal. Nathaniel pulled out the only remaining chair and sat opposite her. It was dark all around them apart from the light of a storm lantern on the table and the little glowing orbs coming from the passing cars he could see through the large windows.
‘Dad?’ she said, looking up to meet his gaze.
‘Yes, sweetheart?’
‘Dad?’
‘Yes, sweetheart.’
‘Dad?’
‘Yes, sweetheart?’
And so it went, like a film clip being repeated over and over again, only this was fluid, playing out before Nathaniel without any editing or cuts. Then she paused briefly to lift the glass from the table, and out of her mouth came a marble, then another and another.
‘Talk to me, sweetheart. Come back to us. Tell us what happened,’ Nathaniel heard himself saying to her.
She just smiled, looked contemplatively at him, then rolled the marbles over the table cloth towards him.
‘Dad?’
‘Yes?’
‘Dad?’
‘Yes?’
‘Dad?’
There Nathaniel stayed, within that dream, happy to continue their stilted conversation. His daughter’s beautiful face didn’t alter at all – it glowed in the soft lighting, and she looked relaxed and happy caught in her linguistic loop. He was used to seeing her with a crumpled brow, stress she had started accumulating soon after she was born – violating the fresh features he remembered her having when she had been an innocent baby – from constantly worrying about her mother; a child who had swapped roles with her parent. All that had gone from her face now, and there was a solid peace, a grounding within this dark room with its empty tables and gentle atmosphere, people walking past the windows but no one coming in.
Nathaniel could have sat there forever, the mysterious atmospherics having a similar effect on him as they were clearly having on Ida. When he became aware of consciousness he tried to weigh himself down, so he could stay in the room of sleep with her. Nathaniel could feel he was waking up because he had begun to wonder why he hadn’t seen her in such a long time. Why had he missed her? Where was she? Within the realms of sleep, it had all seemed quite normal, that his little girl was alive there. That’s when Nathaniel woke up suddenly, a sharp clarity slapping him around the face.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Dan was quite different to all the other participants – even more so than Gerald, the man with no shoes.
Dan was one of the oldest volunteers and trickier than anyone I’d ever spoken to. He intrigued me, which was why I continued to search out his company. If I struck up a conversation with him he would snap at me like an aggravated dog, and he would return to his reading material, which was either a book or a broadsheet. Some minutes later he would ask me a question about some particular topic he’d been thinking about. So, quite quickly, I gathered we would be doing things on his terms – to a point, or so I thought until we arrived at the end of the game.
Dan had been a professor of quantum physics and now worked at a boarding school teaching maths. He’d retired from the university many years ago, but had continued his work, filling his time with the activity he loved the most – teaching. There was no wife nor children at home to occupy him.
This all made for some interesting conversations during our train journeys together. We argued and clashed over our views and opinions about the universe, like two ball bearings caught in a drum. The relationship we were forming shouldn’t have worked at all, but it did. During the times we weren’t locked in heated debate, we were polite to one another, in a very British manner. We talked about philosophy, touched on politics, and I probably shared more of my views with Dan than anyone else I met.
‘What would you say about yourself if you were dead?’ I asked him one day.
‘I’d have to think about it.’
‘When you have, write it down.’
‘Why are you so interested?’ Dan folded the broadsheet he was reading and placed it on the seat next to him.
‘It’s a good exercise for observing the life you have had from the outside. Maybe you could use it on your students.’
Dan shrugged, and the following week produced a one-page obituary. We were on a night-time train; he was only ever on that one or the early-morning one. The boarding school was situated in the north and he stayed there for his tutoring during the week, travelling home on a Friday night. It was during a Friday night, on the day he handed me his obituary, that we played the game.
It was quiet, the air tepid, still and cool. We were in a single carriage on our own and there was silence as I asked him if he wanted to shoot himself or be shot.
We’d discussed the Suicide Watcher, talked about me in the third person. Dan’s feeling was that all my participants must have wanted to die on some level and had, in fact, killed themselves.
There was no question that Dan was going to win the game, that he’d be like Magda – brave and fearless until the very end. Not just because of his beliefs and candid approach to death, but because he had never allowed anyone to take control of his life.
The moment Dan put the gun to his head he died. I found out later he had an aortic aneurysm, a little ticking time bomb, prone to exploding under stress. What a waste of life.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
THEN
Elise had risen from her drug-induced slumber, feeling no better for it. How anyone thought she would feel refreshed having a few hours’ rest was beyond her. Asleep she might be, but the drugs just stopped her waking up from the nightmares she was swimming around in. All she was left with now was a strong urge to take more drugs.
Elise was struggling to recall what was real. Flashes of the past few days and how she’d ended up drugged and in bed were just that – brief sparks of memory she couldn’t grasp. Ida was dead and her father and husband, the two people she needed the most, had been arrested. On top of all that, DC Chilvers had shown her a photograph of the man Elise believed was Steven Bridges, only to be told he was actually James Caddy. Nathaniel’s friend, a man she’d once had a drunken fling with. Nathaniel had been working away and Steven had arrived at their apartment unannounced, as he always did, knowing there was always a bed and a meal on offer. Elise had seen no problem with him staying while Nathaniel wasn’t there, but on the second night, having spent the day together, one thing had led to another after far too many drinks. Elise had never told Nathaniel, and Steven had agreed it was best kept a secret. They were all guilty of telling lies.
Elise had been staying in her bedroom, away from everyone and everything, finding comfort in the darkness. Friends and family had called round with flowers and food, wanting to show support or find out more information, but Sonny was staying with her, and he and DC Chilvers had managed to politely send them all away.
Ida’s clothes were being kept for evidence, but Elise was given a bag containing her jewellery. When Elise realised one of the diamond studs they’d bought for Ida’s fifteenth birthday was missing, she’d become hysterical.
‘There’s only one,’ DC Chilvers had told her.
‘One? Found on her, with her? Where?’ Elise had felt her anxiety creep from high to extreme.
‘There was only one in her ear. The other is missing.’
Elise had become fixated on the earrings, wondering if one had come loose and dropped out in the violent struggle she so desperately wanted to erase from her head. Or had Ida given someone one of her earrings – a stranger – another scen
ario that caused more anxiety.
‘How are you doing?’ Sonny got up from the kitchen table.
Elise just nodded, not wanting to answer anything about her well-being. There was no well-being, she was dead inside; the charcoal remnants of a raging fire. She went to the coffee maker and poured herself a cup.
‘Where is everyone?’ she asked.
‘You’ve spoken to Nathaniel?’
‘Yes, the custody sergeant allowed him to make a call last night. Where’s Ray?’
‘Ah. I was hoping DC Chilvers had spoken to you about Dad. He was rearrested and we’re waiting to hear if he’s going to be charged.’
‘With what?’
‘He’s been questioned about trafficking; he’s in a bit of hot water.’
‘What sort of trafficking? About your adoption?’
‘Not sure . . .’ Sonny was being vague. ‘Nick and Karen called and asked about having the boys for an extra couple of days – they thought it would give you a break.’
Elise sighed, fed up with people telling her what to do with her children.
‘It might be a good idea to leave Miles and Buddy where they are,’ he said. ‘You need a rest.’
Elise knew he was right. The thought of having Buddy back filled her with dread. She knew something bad had happened, and although she couldn’t quite recall what, it had led to Nick and Karen taking the boys back to theirs.
‘I guess so. We’ve got a funeral to arrange.’
‘Have they released Ida’s body?’
‘Tomorrow.’ Elise sipped her coffee, watching him.
‘Is she being buried?’
‘Oh, yes.’ It hung in the air between them; a possible exhumation if it was needed. Elise was well aware that if Ida was cremated, they could lose vital evidence.
‘Elise, what an awful mess.’ Sonny scratched his head, just on his hairline near his temple, something he always did when he was nervous. ‘Can we talk for a minute?’
‘Sure. What is it?’ Elise sat on one of the chairs and tucked her feet behind the legs.
‘I just wanted to check everything was okay? That we’re all right?’
‘Why wouldn’t we be?’ Elise’s heart was thudding in her chest, but she remained calm.
‘The other day, when Miles was being interviewed.’ Sonny reached across the table and took Elise’s hand. ‘You got very upset when I told you about the allegation.’
Elise looked at him, puzzled by what he was talking about.
‘When a client accused me of touching her in a police cell? The one who stabbed her sister?’
‘Oh yes, I remember.’ Elise sighed. ‘I don’t want to fight, Sonny. You’re my brother and I believe what you told me. Dad would have checked you out anyway, you can be sure of that. I was upset and overreacted.’
‘I wouldn’t hurt any of you, I can promise you that.’ Sonny’s pull on Elise’s hand was slightly firmer than she felt comfortable with.
‘All I want is to find out who murdered my daughter.’ Elise held Sonny’s gaze.
They were interrupted by the doorbell, and Sonny got up to answer it. DC Chilvers came in, windswept and rain-soaked.
‘Where have you been in this weather?’ Elise got up to pour her some coffee.
‘I’ve been to Magda King’s. Nathaniel suggested I speak to her about the parcels.’
‘Parcels?’
‘He was worried about some items he thought Ida was having sent to Mrs King’s house, but it seems to be a misunderstanding.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘It’s fine, honestly. If I thought there was anything to tell you, I would.’ DC Chilvers unzipped her coat and hung it on one of the hooks in the hallway. ‘I do need to speak to you about something. Can we have a few minutes, Sonny?’
‘Sure. I’ve got some work to do anyway.’
When Sonny had gone, she pulled a chair out and sat down.
‘I’m not sure how much you know at this point, but I’ve just had a call from the station.’
‘I know my father has been arrested but I don’t know what for.’
‘I haven’t had an update about your father, he’s still being interviewed. Has anyone spoken to you about your husband?’
‘I spoke to Nathaniel last night. I know what he’s been charged with.’
‘And do you understand he might not be granted bail?’
‘Yes. I know that.’ Elise was tired of people talking to her like she was an imbecile.
‘Elise, you do know Nathaniel’s been charged with downloading illegal images?’
‘I know all that. I completely understand why you’ve felt it necessary to charge him, but you’ve got it all wrong. It would appear that James Caddy has been using the name Steven Bridges for years. Nathaniel had no idea who he really was, and neither did I until recently. We know him as Steven Bridges. When James Caddy was first mentioned, we didn’t know anyone was talking about Steven. My father certainly didn’t tell us he was a patient, and why would he? We’d have been none the wiser, Steven was using a different name.’
DC Chilvers nodded, waiting for Elise to continue.
‘Tolek and Nathaniel came up with this big idea that they were going to net some high-profile paedophiles and expose them in a documentary. I told them it would backfire. As soon as they’d started it and people began contacting them, they decided it wasn’t such a good idea. Alex, my husband is not a paedophile. Have you spoken to Tolek?’
‘He’s at the station now, being interviewed.’
Elise handed DC Chilvers a cup of coffee. ‘What’s really pissed me off is that you’ve charged Nathaniel, which means all this will be in the papers tomorrow and we’ll have social services knocking on the door. Didn’t you think about the consequences of this for us, with all the media camped outside?’
‘Elise, downloading inappropriate material is illegal, regardless of the reasons behind it. This has to be dealt with like any other crime. We arrested him so we could protect you and your children. We are concerned about his connection to James Caddy. You can see how this looks. If he’s innocent, he’ll be released.’
‘Mud sticks though, doesn’t it?’
‘Your husband needs to stay in custody until the CPS make a decision and we rule him out of any involvement with James Caddy.’
‘Let me tell you something about Steven Bridges. I don’t think he killed my daughter.’
‘Steven Bridges doesn’t exist.’
‘Okay, James Caddy.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
Elise’s eyes were wide with anger. ‘Because he doesn’t have any reason to.’
‘There isn’t always a “reason”, for want of a better word. James Caddy is a very dangerous individual.’
‘It seems to me that you don’t know what you’re doing. One minute, Alistair’s being questioned, then Sonny, then my father. You’ll be accusing Nathaniel of killing her next.’
‘We haven’t charged anyone yet. This is normal in any investigation.’
Elise frowned. ‘So, do you think the attack was sexually motivated?’
‘There are no signs it was, but we’re not ruling it out. It’s more likely that Ida knew something that someone didn’t want anyone else to find out. You know the photographs were taken by James Caddy, that they’d been talking online?’
‘She wouldn’t have done that without telling me.’
‘All teenagers lie, Elise, even straight-A students. She probably didn’t tell you because she knew you’d worry. The content of the messages is strange. It’s not your run-of-the-mill grooming, there’s no flirting or sexual references that we usually find when an adult is making contact.’
‘Well, James Caddy didn’t have anything to do with my daughter sexually.’
‘Do you know why he lied to you all about his identity?’
‘Is that a rhetorical question? Are you being sarcastic?’ Elise was a bit wired from the tablets she’d taken and knew she
sounded aggressive.
‘It’s just a regular question.’ DC Chilvers sipped her coffee.
‘Steven – I mean James Caddy, sorry – didn’t want me to know he was seeing my father. He was embarrassed.’
‘It sounds like you and Caddy were close?’
‘He was a good friend until he and Nathaniel had a fight when he was staying over one evening.’
‘Do you know why that was?’
‘It’s not what Nathaniel thinks. What other innocent explanation could there be for a man watching a young girl sleep?’
It was a few moments before the detective answered.
‘A father watching his child?’ DC Chilvers leant back in her seat. ‘You and he were intimate?’
‘Once. A long time ago, and Steven – James – convinced himself Ida was his. She’s not, because I did a test.’
‘Did you ever tell him that?’
‘I never got the chance. He vanished the night Nathaniel threw him out.’
‘You remember the conversation we had about his paranoid schizophrenia and how he attempted to kill his stepdaughter?’
‘I’m telling you, he didn’t do it.’ Elise banged her hand on the table. ‘He didn’t do it because he wouldn’t do that to someone he believed was his daughter.’
DC Chilvers didn’t speak. Elise had stunned her into silence.
‘Steven – James, whatever you want to call him – wouldn’t hurt one of his own,’ she continued. ‘I know that for sure. I’ll tell you who you need to have a closer look at.’ Elise drained her coffee cup and lowered her voice. ‘Sonny John Travers.’
‘We have our eye on him. Why are you suspicious?’