Evil Games (25 page)

The call from Kim yesterday had been a surprise and had come just as she’d been wondering how to engineer their next meeting. Alex had arisen extra early to prepare, with nervous excitement akin to first-date nerves. The fact that Kim had made contact with her without any kind of intervention had further convinced Alex of the affinity that existed between them.

She had known that each meeting with Kim would give her more ammunition and today she had learned a lot. An idea was beginning to form of just how the detective inspector might fit into her plans.

Alex was thrilled at Kim’s denial of her horrific childhood and the clarity of the pain those events had caused. It was clear that she had not sought help for the demons that haunted her, and however well Kim thought she hid her emotions behind the rigid exterior, she could not hide from someone who had spent their life studying people and their emotions.

Because Kim had not dealt with the pain of her childhood, the detective’s grip on sanity was tenuous at best. If dealt with, the memories would still bring feelings of pain and loss but not the threat of being engulfed. Alex couldn’t help but wonder how far she could push Kim until she fell into the abyss of her fragile psyche. The only thing keeping her safe was the distance she had tried to put between herself and those hurtful memories.

Ultimately, Alex knew her dealings with the detective were going to be fruitful and educational at best, but at the very worst, entertaining.

Her boredom threshold craved more challenge. Someone like Kim challenged her. There was so much conflict there that it emanated like a beacon. Kim had issues that even she wasn’t aware of, and that excited Alex. Kim was a new toy that she could play with for a very long time.

She forced her thoughts away from Kim, took a

deep breath and affixed her glasses. Irritation was not a good trait to show to her patients. Not for what she charged an hour.

‘Mrs Ross, if you’d like to come in,’ she said, warmly, opening the connecting door. The female shuffled in without really looking at her.

Some of her court-ordered patients started off this way. Not particularly happy to be seeing a psychiatrist but with little choice in the matter.

She quickly appraised the female. She still had a slight bulge where the baby had once rested and although her child was now seven months old, Jessica Ross had not yet bothered to shift the surplus weight. Her hair was unstyled and straggled down past her shoulders. She moved with the gait of a homeless person, devoid of hope. She wore no make-up and her haggard complexion aged her twenty-five-year-old looks by ten years.

This wasn’t a case that held any significant interest for Alex. It would pay for the new laptop computer she wanted and possibly a service on her car if she could stretch it out a bit.

She immediately sat. This patient didn’t warrant a coffee. Colombia Gold was expensive.

‘So, Jessica, you’ve been court-ordered into therapy following a violent incident that happened with your baby?’

Although Alex’s voice was soft, her words bit and the woman visibly winced. Alex was satisfied she’d caused a little pain.
Thanks for interrupting my meeting, bitch.

Alex placed the notepad on the table and sat back. It wouldn’t hurt to start stretching this case from the very beginning.

‘I can see that you’re feeling quite stressed and uncomfortable, so let’s not rush it. Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?’

Jessica’s shoulders relaxed slightly with the relief of not having to get into it straight away.

Alex prompted. ‘Just tell me about growing up, family, that kind of thing.’

Jessica nodded, already grateful.

God, people were pathetic, Alex thought, tuning out. Transparency was so lacking in stimulation.

‘… holidays were normally in Blackpool. I remember one time at the beach …’

Alex tuned out as a slow smile spread across Jessica’s face. Jesus, she was reliving a fond memory. Alex nodded occasionally, urging her to continue whilst thinking about the disappointments she had suffered so far.

Ruth was by far the biggest disappointment to her – not least because of the time that had been invested. She had not been an opportune candidate like Barry, who also had not performed as Alex would have liked, although at least he had been useful in arranging an unexpected meeting between herself and Kim.

Shane had been a promising candidate initially, but his instability had been further evidenced in her home. She shuddered at the memory. Not the fear she had initially felt when he’d startled her, but that she hadn’t seen it coming. Shane would serve as a reminder that loose ends needed to be tied up.

Alex had already decided that Hardwick House was no longer a part of her life. The demand on her time did not equate with the benefits. She had hoped the place would provide a steady stream of subjects from which she could pick and choose, but she had underestimated both the quality and quantity of the fare on offer. For a while the challenge of seducing David Hardwick had been tantalising and had made her visits to the house of misfits at least tolerable. However, even that challenge was failing to keep her entertained. His game of playing hard to get had become tiresome.

She would, at some stage, send a letter to David explaining that recent events had affected her emotionally and that she no longer felt able to be of service to the facility. In the meantime she made a note on her pad to block the calls on her phone.

‘… dropped out of college because of the anxiety and panic attacks …’

Still no response was needed from her and it took all Alex’s energy not to roll her eyes. This woman had weak, poor victim plastered all over her face. Alex felt that the only challenge she would face with this particular patient was not throwing her out.

It suddenly occurred to Alex why she found this woman so irritating. There was a quality in her that reminded Alex of Sarah. Alex made another note on her pad. She hadn’t checked the online estate agents for a couple of days. She felt sure there would be a new listing for Llangollen by now. Yes, a bijou two-bed terraced cottage that was probably being advertised as an ‘exceptional bargain’ for a quick sale.

It only normally took a couple of letters to galvanise her sister into action. If not, Alex had a few more tricks up her sleeve to prompt Sarah into getting out her running shoes. On your marks, get ready, now run, Sis.

Although her sister was quite predictable by now, Alex continued the game just because she could and it gave her some measure of entertainment to have an involvement in Sarah’s life. The fact that the pathetic fool allowed herself to be uprooted every few years was entertainment in itself.

‘… it started a couple of weeks after the birth …’

Yada, yada, yada. Alex wondered if her boredom would be relieved if she started plucking the fine, light hairs out of her arms one by one. It would probably be less painful.

Oh Lord, spare me from this tedium. In Alex’s opinion postnatal depression was turning into the most fashionable accessory for most first-time mothers and was being diagnosed indiscriminately. There were no baby blues or periods of adjustment anymore.

‘… I just felt worthless and I wanted to understand what had caused these feelings …’

Probably your own subconscious being honest with you, Alex thought as she nodded at the woman’s distress.

‘… felt guilty for all the negative thoughts. I felt like I was letting my husband down. He was so excited and was enjoying the baby and I couldn’t tell him the truth.’ She shook her head, fighting back tears. ‘I thought I was going crazy …’

All very textbook, Alex thought, although Jessica had arrived at this stage quicker than she’d thought. Alex would now be forced to endure the monotony of asking some questions.

‘Did you experience any suicidal thoughts?’

Jessica hesitated then nodded, wiping her eyes. ‘Which just gave me something else to feel guilty about: contemplating leaving them.’

‘What happened that day?’ Alex asked. She now wanted this useless woman gone. If she had to guess, she’d say the child just wouldn’t stop crying and she’d gripped it by the arms too tightly or some other banal reason.

‘Which one?’ Jessica asked.

The question surprised Alex. She had assumed there had been only one episode of violence towards the child and that social services had been involved from the beginning.

‘The first one,’ Alex responded, offering her full attention. This was now getting interesting.

‘It was one of my worst days. The day before I’d felt on top of the world, really good, almost too good. I’d been full of energy and excitement. Then bump, the next day was darker than all the rest. I was terrified of everything. Even the kettle switching off was enough to set my teeth chattering. I remember that I couldn’t recall where I kept the washing powder. It was really strange. I found myself looking for it in the garden shed.

‘Jamie started to cry and at first I couldn’t find his bedroom. It was so weird. We’ve lived in that house for three years and I couldn’t find the second bedroom.’

Alex put down her notepad and sat forward. ‘Go on,’ she instructed, giving this new patient her full attention.

‘I stood above his crib and he stopped crying. I looked down at him and suddenly I heard these voices, very low at first, telling me to pinch him. It was garbled but as soon as I heard it, I knew that everything would feel better if I got his skin between my fingers and squeezed.’

Alex was alert to every word now. ‘And is that what you did?’

Jessica coloured, tears gathering in her eyes as she nodded.

Alex wanted to clap her hands together. Overworked social services had sent her a gift. This woman had been diagnosed as suffering from postnatal depression and exhibited all the signs. But on top of the obvious, Jessica had experienced euphoria, confusion and verbal hallucinations. Jessica Ross was suffering with postnatal psychosis, a very different kind of animal and one that made her suddenly very interesting indeed.

‘Oh dear me, I’ve just realised,’ Alex said, warmly, as she rose from the chair. ‘I haven’t even made us a coffee. Bear with me while I fire up the coffee machine.’

She smiled reassuringly at case study number four.

FORTY-EIGHT

Bryant parked the car behind Tesco in the centre of Blackheath.

‘You know you might have fooled them, but I’m not as stupid as I look.’

‘You couldn’t be,’ she quipped.

‘I know you weren’t at the dentist,’ he said, staring forward.

‘I do have teeth, you know,’ Kim clarified, tapping her top lip.

‘Yeah, I’ve seen them rip grown men to pieces, but that’s not what I meant. In three years you’ve never made a medical appointment in work time. Not even once.’

It was on the tip of her tongue to argue but she changed her mind. Bryant knew she had lied and Kim knew he knew she had lied. She had no wish to make things any worse.

‘I just need to be sure you know what you’re doing,’ he said, without turning her way.

Kim was tempted to lay one hand on his arm, to reassure him, but she didn’t and the moment passed.

‘Come on my little worrywart, we have a shadow to find.’

The shoe shop was located in the high street, nestled between a butchers and the entrance to the indoor market.

A bell sounded as Kim held the door open for Bryant.

Where the smell of car parts had been inviting to her, this small space was anything but. There was a musty air, as though the stock had lay stagnant and still for a very long time; not so much displayed as preserved.

Handmade price signs peeled from walls filled with dated handbags. A central island held an array of purses and wallets. It was a store with multiple personality disorder. Or a shop just trying to survive.

A male appeared from the back office and slid behind the counter. Kim guessed him to be late forties. His grey jeans were creased with a waistband that had been swallowed by his stomach. A black T-shirt showed sweat marks at the armpits. She couldn’t help wondering if his clothes were changed with the same frequency as the stock. But the picture was becoming clearer as to the shop’s popularity. Inviting, it was not.

Bryant stepped forward. Kim stood back and observed the male carefully.

‘We’d like to talk to you about Leonard Dunn. He’s a member of a book club you run.’

Kim saw a smudge of red skin appear above the neckline of the man’s T-shirt.

‘You know, of course, he’s been arrested for abusing his two daughters?’

Although Bryant spoke gently, the starkness of the question remained.

Charlie Cook shook his head vigorously. ‘I doe know nothing about any of that. We just meet now and again to talk about books.’

His eyes darted between them.

Bryant nodded his understanding.

‘Yeah, I’m in a book club, myself. Great to meet up with the boys now and again.’

Kim showed no surprise at his lie.

Bryant moved forward and leaned on the counter. ‘Missus thinks it’s a cover-up for something else.’

The redness travelled north.

‘It’s no cover-up … I swear … we read books … and then discuss ’em. It’s all we do … honest to God …’

‘Yeah, my missus thinks we just go out on the piss.’

Charlie visibly relaxed. He smiled and the redness dropped a notch.

‘But see, the thing is, we know someone else is involved in what Leonard Dunn was doing.’

The redness rose up like a blanket.

Charlie shook his head vigorously. ‘Nah mate … no way. Not one of us. No chance. Sick mate. Nah, not little girls … makes me ill. All we do is talk about books. Just the thought …’

‘Okay, Charlie,’ Bryant said, holding up a hand. ‘But we gotta ask.’

‘Oh yeah … yeah … course. I get it.’

‘Well, if you think of anything that might help, give us a shout.’

Charlie’s skin began to return to its normal colour at the prospect of them leaving.

He offered a trembling hand across the counter and Bryant was brave enough to take it.

Kim headed towards the door. Bryant followed for a few steps and turned.