Lost Lives (Emily Swanson Mystery Thriller Series Book 1) (20 page)

“What about the police? What did they say?”

“She didn’t tell them,” Andrew said, shaking his head.

“The doctors reckoned I took a tumble in the dark. If that’s what they say, then let everyone believe it.” Harriet picked up her cup and saucer and they quivered in her hands. “What good have the police ever done me and my family, eh? Besides, I didn’t know what was inside that box and I wasn’t about to get you in trouble if it was something untoward.”

Emily was quiet. Harriet had been badly hurt because of her. The evidence was gone, back in the hands of the people it incriminated. The hopelessness she felt was paralysing.

Beside her, Jerome said, “When Harriet told me about that night, you’d already been gone two weeks. I let myself into your apartment with the spare key you’d given me. There was no sign of the box or any of the evidence that was inside it. Your clothes were all still there though. That didn’t sit right with me.”

“So that was when you moved into my apartment?”

Jerome blushed. “Harriet felt safer with me next door. And we thought I could take care of the place until either we found you or you came back on your own.”

“You looked for me?” Emily couldn’t hide her surprise.

“I tried,” Jerome said. “But I didn’t know where to start. I thought about contacting that receptionist, the one that helped you from the hospice. But I got scared. I didn’t want to attract anymore unwanted attention. Clearly I should leave the detective work to you.”

“Jerome, we uncovered something,” Emily said. “Something so terrible that those doctors thought it safer to lock me away. Whatever it is, it’s big. It reaches further than Alina, further than the Ever After Care Foundation. And it means they’re looking for me right now. They’ll be here soon. I can’t be here when they arrive.”

“Can you stay with a friend?” Harriet asked.

“My friends are all in this room.” Emily turned to Jerome. “Can you help me get to a hotel?”

“Of course. That reminds me.” He stood and hurried out of the apartment. When he returned moments later, he handed Emily her wallet.

“I found it under the bed.”

Emily pocketed the wallet. We better get going.”

“You will be careful, my dear, won’t you?” Harriet reached out her hand and Emily took it.

“If anyone comes knocking on your door, you haven’t seen me in months.”

In the window, Andrew let out a nervous laugh.

“Don’t you worry about us,” Harriet said. “Anyone tries anything, I’ll take my stick to ‘em!”

***

Twenty minutes later, Emily and Jerome sat in the back of a cab, heading through busy streets. It was getting dark, the sky somewhere between bottle-green and smudged charcoal. The driver had given up his attempts at conversation and now hummed along to a tune on the radio. His passengers were quiet, their heads turned from each other as they looked through the windows.

When they reached their destination, Emily paid the driver and watched the cab disappear. She limped badly now, the exertions of the day’s events taking their toll.

“Here,” Jerome said, hooking her arm over his shoulder.

They walked the short distance to the hotel, Jerome taking Emily’s weight. When they arrived, he held the door open, then moved to follow her inside.

Emily stopped him. “You should go home to your parents.”

“I’m not leaving you on your own like this,” Jerome protested. “You can barely walk.”

“The further you are away from me, the safer you’ll be.”

Jerome hung his head. “I’m sorry I couldn’t find you.”

“That’s not what this is about. This is about keeping you safe. They hurt Harriet because of me. I can’t let that happen again. Besides, when the time comes I’m going to need your help, and that means nothing can happen to you in the meantime.”

Jerome looked up. “What do you mean
when the time comes
? What are you planning to do?”

“This isn’t going to end well unless we stop them,” Emily said. “So I’m going to stop them.”

“How?”

“We’re going to show the world exactly who these doctors are and what they’ve been up to.”

The hotel room was a simple affair with décor that had seen better times and a worn bed that could tell a thousand sordid tales. For now, it was somewhere to rest. A place where no one could find her.

Before stepping into the cab, she had withdrawn cash at the ATM and used some of it to buy a prepay mobile phone. Now, she sat in the armchair in the window, staring down at the street and eating noodles she’d ordered from a takeaway.

Brick Lane was vibrant and colourful, a heady concoction of curry houses, retro fashion stores, street food, bars, and galleries. The cool evening was populated by tourists and a swathe of artistic types, who were all tattoos and body piercings and DIY haircuts.

Jerome had written his number on Emily’s hand before sombrely heading off to catch the train back to his parents. Finishing her noodles, she entered the digits into the contacts list of her new phone, then lay back on the bed.

She stretched out her limbs and they shrieked with pain. She thought about taking a bath, but her eyes grew heavy. Scared to sleep, she fought the exhaustion. What if she were to wake up and find the last twelve hours had all been a dream? That she was still at the hospital? Lying in darkness, she began to convince herself that it was true.

But then, she really was asleep, dreaming of running through an endless patchwork of fields. People chased her, their fingertips brushing her hair. She ran towards a building. As she drew nearer, she saw that it was St. Dymphna’s in full nightmarish vision, and there was nothing she could do to change course, to stop her body from ploughing towards it like a child running towards her mother’s open arms.

***

A week passed by in a feverish dream. Now that she was no longer taking a prescription of daily medication, her body succumbed to the throes of withdrawal, sending tremors through her already aching limbs, plunging her mind into the darkest depths. Her days were plagued by anxiety, her nights by insomnia. When she did sleep, the nightmares made her wish she hadn’t. Every time she woke, she rushed to check the day’s date, convinced she had lost another three months of her life.

To keep herself focused, she filled her waking hours with routine. She began by stretching her muscles the way the physiotherapist had shown her at St. Dymphna’s, followed by a trip outside to grab coffee and a snack to bring back to the hotel. Then there was more stretching, followed by anti-anxiety breathing exercises and a second trip outside to find dinner. Out in the street, she pulled the hood of her jacket over her head and scanned the crowds, looking for the doctors and their men.

What would she do now? She couldn’t return to her apartment. She could leave the city, find a new town where no one knew her and start again. Or she could stay. She could finish what had been started all those months ago. Doctor Chelmsford’s words echoed in her mind.
What is the point of living if our lives are spent in suffering?

Emily Swanson had suffered enough.

A spark ignited inside her. And now, in spite of her limbs still feeling weak and sore, in spite of the dizziness and unease, the spark burned into a fire.

Leaving her room, she made her way down to the reception desk and asked to borrow a phone directory. She sat in the drab lobby, sifting through the pages until she found the number she was looking for.

A familiar voice answered her call. “Hello?”

Emily didn’t answer at first. Anxiety blocked her throat.

“Hello, is someone there?” the woman on the phone asked.

Taking in a deep breath, then exhaling, Emily let the words flood out.

***

They met at Bramfords Diner. Rosa, pale and frightened and a great deal thinner than when Emily had last seen her, huddled against the wall. A waitress moved towards them, but a quick shake of Rosa’s head sent her back towards the counter.

When they were alone, she said, “If Doctor Williams found out I was here, he—”

“They abducted me, Rosa. They drugged me. They took away my freedom because we were close to finding out the truth. Why are you still working there?”

Rosa wiped her wet eyes with the back of her hand. “After you went to Karl’s house, I waited for something to happen. I waited for the police to come, to arrest them. But nothing changed. Everything carried on as normal. At first, I wondered if you’d gotten cold feet, if you’d decided to leave things alone. Then, one morning not long after, Doctor Williams called me into his office. Karl Henry was there, and they started asking me questions. About you, about whether I knew you, or if you’d tried to contact me.”

“What did you tell them?”

“I told them I remembered you from your visit to Ever After, but apart from that I’d never spoken to you.” As she talked, her lips trembled. “They knew I was lying. They didn’t say so, but I could tell from the way they looked at me. Doctor Williams asked about my son, about how he was doing at school. And then he said, ‘We like to take care of our own at Ever After, Rosa. We like to say, Ever After means forever after.’”

Emily was quiet, listening to Rosa speak, quickly understanding why she had been too afraid to leave.

“I wondered if something had happened to you,” the receptionist continued. “But after that meeting ... I can’t leave there. I can’t say anything to anyone. Look what they did to you! I’m scared. I don’t want that to happen to me.”

“Then why are you here?” Emily leaned in over the table. “You didn’t have to meet me, no matter how much I tried to persuade you. You could have put the phone down. You could have said no.”

Rosa was crying now. “I feel like they’re watching me all the time. I can’t sleep. I worry about my boy. I could go to the police but tell them what? I don’t even know what’s happening there.”

“But something is happening, isn’t it Rosa?”

“Another patient disappeared.” Rosa dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “The same circumstances as the others.”

“Patients are disappearing at St. Dymphna’s too.”

“Please, Emily,” Rosa moaned. “Please, help me get out of there!”

Emily weighed up the options. With all of the evidence she had gathered now gone, with no one else to turn to, she had only one choice. It was dangerous, and it could very well end with her back at St. Dymphna’s, or worse, but she had to try—for Rosa, for Alina, for Reina, for Grace. For herself.

“Get me inside,” Emily said, scarcely believing what she was saying. “Get me inside and I’ll help get you out.”

Rosa stopped crying. “Inside Ever After? I can’t do that.”

“It’s the only way. You want me to help you, then I need to find out what’s going on in there. We need proof. And the only way we’re going to get it is by getting me inside Doctor William’s office.”

Sleep brought more nightmares. Figures in surgical gowns surrounded her hotel bed brandishing pointed instruments. Her body paralysed, she watched with horror as they removed her limbs, sewing up the stumps with crude stitching.

Now awake, Emily paced the room, checking the door locks and peering down into the dark and empty street below. When it was clear she would not be returning to sleep at any time soon, she took a hot shower and then began stretching her limbs, until the stiffness faded and her joints were more malleable.

The sun rose a little before six-thirty and with it came a light shower of rain. By then, Emily had counted every flower printed on the hotel wallpaper and had moved onto the blue flecks of the bathroom floor tiles. Thoughts of what lay ahead crept their way in between the numbers. By eight o’clock her head pulsed with pain.

Leaving the hotel, she walked through the streets, making her way through morning commuters like a salmon swimming upstream, until she came to a small park tucked away behind a cul-de-sac of Georgian houses. It was a simple affair—a grassy area with a thin copse of birch trees, beds filled with daffodils, and benches still damp with early morning rain—and yet it brought a sudden peace to Emily’s feverish mind.

As she felt her anxiety begin to ebb, she thought about what she might do once this was all over. Perhaps she would find a small town beside the sea after all, where no one knew her, where she could really begin again. Perhaps she would buy a plane ticket and travel the world. It was something she had promised herself she would do once university had come to an end, but her mother had kicked up such a fuss that instead of travelling the world, Emily had taken the train back home, back to the village where every day was the same until Phillip Gerard changed everything.

Her thoughts turned to Grace, who had been so eloquent, so adamant in her beliefs. She wondered if she had been punished for helping Emily escape. If not for Grace, Emily would still be incarcerated against her will, more than likely induced into long-lasting sleep. She owed Grace her freedom. Sat on the bench, she vowed to repay her with freedom of her own.

***

The sun set just before eight, nestling itself behind the tower blocks and skyscrapers of the metropolis. Emily sat on the train that would take her towards the Ever After Care Foundation, drumming her fingers against the window. She’d spent the afternoon making preparations. She wrote letters to her bank, to Lewis, to Harriet Golding, and to the parents of Phillip Gerard, sealing them all in envelopes and placing them on the bedside cabinet of her hotel room.

Next, she called Jerome, who was pleased to hear from her until she relayed her plan and his involvement.

“You can’t go there!” he pleaded with her, and then after realising he was not about to change Emily’s mind, said, “I’m coming with you.”

“You can’t. Your safety is priority. You’re my lifeline, Jerome.”

There had been no more contact from Rosa, and so it was with creeping trepidation that Emily now sat in the train carriage, journeying through the coming darkness towards her destination.

By the time the train pulled into the station, a delirious brew of fear and anticipation bubbled inside her. She took the bus to Yellowpine Way, retracing the journey she and Jerome had made all those months ago. Attempting to calm herself, she began to count. She counted the number of times her heart beat in a minute. She counted the stars she could see now that the sky was clear of pollution. She counted her footsteps, hard and heavy against the tarmac as she stepped off the bus and walked through suburban streets. Crossing the pedestrian walkway on Romford Road, she descended the steps, passed the bus stop, and turned onto the private lane that led to the Ever After Care Foundation.

There were no street lights here. Branches blotted out the moonlight like hands across Emily’s eyes. Reaching for her backpack, she pulled out a small torch and switched it on. A stark ball of light illuminated the road and bordering woodland. She stopped still and listened. The far-off hum of the city undulated in a hypnotic pulse. A breeze whispered through the canopies. Somewhere to her right, snapping twigs betrayed the presence of an unseen animal. Then, came the drone of a car engine, moving towards her at increasing speed.

Switching off the torch, Emily hurried to the roadside and cloaked herself in darkness. A full beam of headlights bounded around the corner and lit up the tarmac. The car drove by, a young woman in nurse’s uniform at the wheel. A second nurse rode beside her, while a third sat in the rear, all oblivious to the furtive eyes watching them from the woods.

Emily waited until darkness had settled once more, then she stepped onto the lane and continued her journey. Soon, the road had opened up into a cavernous black hole. In the distance, the hospice lit up like a beacon.

A handful of cars sat in the car park. The windows of the old manor revealed movement here and there. Emily veered off the road and stepped onto spongey grass. Moving in a wide circle, she made her way through the hospice grounds, staying low and keeping to the shadows.

Facing the east side of the building, she saw two nurses meandering through the day room. Day patients had already returned to their homes, while residents were now in their rooms.

Emily moved on, flanking the lawn, until she had rounded the building and faced its south side. Lights filtered out from the lower floors. In a window directly above her, a figure appeared. Emily dashed into the harbour of a topiary archway. She waited, watching as the figure remained still. Then, the familiar outline of a nurse approached and both patient and carer disappeared from the window.

Emily was moving again, passing along a perimeter of tall hedges. She crossed a garden path, gravel crunching underfoot, and ducked through an opening in the hedgerow.

She was now on the opposite corner of the building, draped in darkness. The steel kitchen door was just ahead. Beside it, a window was open half an inch. Rosa had done as she’d promised.

Adrenaline pulsing, Emily stepped out of the shadows. Rosa had taken the window off the latch. Reaching an arm in, Emily found the door lock, snapped it open, and pulled down on the handle.

Seconds later, she stood in the kitchen, her heart pounding in her ears. She listened for voices, movement. Satisfied she was alone, she crept forwards, feeling her way towards the dining room.

Once through, she ducked down behind a table. Light spilled in through the open door that led to the foyer. She heard voices, distant and muffled, coming from somewhere above.

Emily crawled on her hands and knees from table to table. Somewhere above her, a door opened and closed. Out in the foyer, papers rustled. Now by the door, she risked the quickest of glances.

As Rosa had predicted, a nurse sat at the reception desk, filling in paperwork. Emily removed her phone from her pocket and checked the time. Nine twenty-three.
Come on!
she thought. Then, directly on cue, the reception desk telephone sprang to life.

The nurse picked it up after two rings and ran off the usual welcome spiel. Then, she said, “Rosa? It’s late, is everything all right?” A pause, then, “I didn’t see it anywhere, maybe one of the ... okay, hang on a second, I’ll take a look.”

Chair wheels rolled across the floor, then came soft footsteps as the nurse crossed the foyer, heading towards the day room. Emily’s phone vibrated in her hand. A message from Rosa blinked on her screen, containing just one word: GO!

With no time to change her mind, Emily stepped through the doorway. The light was dazzling and she felt immediately exposed. Her throat running dry, she dashed towards the lift and pressed the call button.

The lift began its descent. The second floor symbol illuminated. Then the first. Voices floated somewhere above her head. The lift doors slid open. Emily darted inside and hit the top floor button.

The doors closed behind her like fortress gates. Then, dizzy and breathless, she was moving upwards.

It was a short journey. Gears ground to a halt and the doors slid open once more. Darkness rushed in. Emily remained where she was, pressed into a corner, too afraid to step out. She listened, but all she could hear were her own ragged breaths. The door was shutting. Stealing forwards, she blocked it with her foot. Then, finding her courage, she stepped out into the corridor.

It was too dark to see. Reaching out a hand, she fumbled through the air until she touched the wall. Her torch was in her pocket, but she was afraid to use it. Instead, she pulled out her phone and tapped the screen. Weak blue light painted the space around her. Emily crept forwards.

Doctor William’s office was the last door on the left. Although he often worked late, Rosa had checked his schedule and tonight he was attending a charity gala.

The door was locked. There were no spare keys for the doctor’s office. At least, none that were available to Rosa. Emily had come prepared. Removing her backpack, she pulled out a crowbar. Having never opened a locked door without a key, a quick internet search had educated her in using other means. Sliding the edge of the crowbar in between the door and the jamb, just above the lock, Emily spread her feet wide, took in a deep breath and pulled as hard as she could. There was a loud crack as the jamb splintered. She threw her entire body weight at the crowbar. Wood and shrapnel shot through the air. The door flew inwards.

Emily stiffened, listening for signs that someone had heard the din. Evidently, the building had been well soundproofed.

A lamp sat on Doctor William’s desk. She switched it on. The office was of average size and nondescript. Shelves filled one side with leather-bound medical books and journals. In one corner, two armchairs faced each other. A filing cabinet sat opposite them.

Emily moved towards it, pulling open each drawer. There were patient files, alphabetized and separated according to whether patients were currently under the hospice’s care or were now deceased. Death certificates showed nothing untoward that a person outside of the medical profession could easily identify. And Emily still had no idea of what she was looking for.

Closing the drawers, she returned to the desk. A stack of trays sat on top, each tray filled with papers. Emily sifted through them. There was administrative paperwork and invoices to sign, but nothing obviously incriminating.

The desk had two drawers. The first contained stationery and printing paper. The second drawer was locked. Emily went to work with the crowbar. Moments later, she stood staring into an empty drawer space.
Why would anyone lock an empty drawer?
It didn’t make sense. She felt around, pressing against the bottom panel, then the sides. She felt a flutter of excitement as her fingers ran along the top. Something was taped to the roof of the drawer. Freeing the object, she held it up between finger and thumb. It was a small silver key.

Emily looked around the room. There was nothing here for the key to unlock. Frustrated that all she had found was yet another mystery to solve, she picked up the crowbar and slung it back inside her bag.
What now?
The thought of leaving with nothing to show was inconceivable. But short of avoiding the nurses and stealing though every room of the hospice, or tracking down Doctor Williams, abducting him, and forcing him to talk, she had run out of ideas. She had the key. But what good was a key without a lock?

Defeated, Emily switched off the lamp and hurried out of the office, stepping over splintered pieces of wood. As she passed by each room, she tried the doors. Each one of them opened with ease, revealing therapy rooms furnished with massage tables and couches. There were no locked drawers, nothing to hide.

***

By the time Emily reached the lift, she was overwhelmed by anxiety. How was this all going to end? If she stayed, they would find her. But if she went away, perhaps abroad somewhere, and if she fell silent, then there was a chance the doctors would eventually leave her alone. She could change her name, start a new life. But it would mean forgetting everything that had happened to her. It would mean forgetting Alina, Reina, Grace, all of the other lost patients. Could she do that? Could she step on a plane and leave everything behind?

Of course she couldn’t. If she disappeared now, the doctors would be free. And no matter if she stayed or if she ran, what had happened to her—what had happened to all of their victims—would remain forever branded on her mind.

The lift doors opened and Emily stepped inside. Her finger hovered over the ground floor button.

It was then that she saw the keyhole.

It was small and discreet, positioned above the top floor button, easily overlooked.

With trembling fingers, Emily slid the key into the keyhole and turned it. Immediately, the doors closed behind her and the lift began to ascend beyond the top floor, towards the attic.

When the doors opened again, Emily had the crowbar out, brandishing it like a weapon. In front of her was a short, narrow corridor with a low ceiling. At the end of the corridor was a door. She crept towards it.

As she came closer, she heard sounds—intermittent blips and bleeps. Reaching the end of the corridor, she stopped still. Beyond this door, she could not predict what she might see, what she might experience. There could be danger, untold horrors. Answers to the questions that had been haunting her these past months. The opportunity to turn around presented itself. Turn back or go forwards. Now or never.