The Doll's House (35 page)

‘Go on.’

‘I felt frightened. I can’t remember any more, but it feels connected.’

‘Clodagh?’

‘Yes?’

‘There is something else we could try.’

‘What?’

‘During the previous session, not the one today but before, your conscious mind resisted the regression. It forced me to use an alternative method. I had to endeavour to overload it, tire the conscious mind, before the use of tapping on the forehead to shock it into subconscious regression.’

‘So?’

‘We could try to regress again but this time use the format from
our previous session. We could attempt to pinpoint the regression in a very specific way.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Direct you to the root cause of your childhood distress.’

‘Around the death of my sister?’

‘Perhaps, or it could turn out to be something else entirely. It’s a risk, Clodagh, and one you must be fully sure you want to try. The truth could turn out to be extremely difficult. We’re entering this blind.’

‘Not knowing, Gerard, can be a whole lot worse.’

‘I appreciate that, Clodagh. It’s up to you.’

‘Can we attempt it now?’

‘Yes, if you want to. As I said, I’m not expecting anyone else today.’

‘Okay, then. Let’s try it.’

‘Clodagh, can I ask you something else?’

‘Of course.’

‘How did you get here today? Did you come alone?’

‘Yes. Why do you ask?’

Kate hadn’t heard back from O’Connor after the incident-room briefing. She thought about phoning him but decided against it. If he had something to tell her, he would have called.

The black-and-white photograph of her and Charlie stared at her from the desk. It spoke volumes. She checked the time. Imogen Willis was due shortly. She reviewed her case notes on the Jenkins and Gahan killings again, knowing the specific area she wanted to concentrate on: the sense of reward that the drowning offered the killer.

If the method of killing far outweighed the risks, was this a one-way trip? One that the killer had no intention of ever coming back from? If so, the possibility only pointed one way: personal destruction.

Kate considered O’Connor’s interpretation of Becon. He wasn’t a man to get his own hands dirty. He was capable of using others. If he had been involved with Jenkins’s shaky financial dealings, the prospect of proving it, considering his level of power and protection, would be difficult, but there was more at stake here than money.

She had started to question the possibility of psychosis in the murders. In the public domain, there was often confusion between psychopathic and psychotic behaviour. In reality, they were poles apart. At extreme levels of psychosis, there were serious mental disorders, like schizophrenia, but as with all mental illnesses, it could take varying forms. It was often brought on by severe depression, disintegration of personality, and sometimes resulted in grossly distorted thoughts, perceptions and heightened levels of anxiety. All these factors could be
bubbling over in the killer, including how and why he arrived at this juncture.

Kate heard a low tap on the door: Imogen. ‘Come in,’ she called from her desk. When the door opened, Kate saw instantly that she was distressed. ‘Close the door, Imogen. Come and sit down.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Are you okay? Can I get you a drink of water? You look a little pale.’

‘No, I’m fine. Actually, no, I’m not fine.’

‘Let’s start nice and easy. Take your time. When you’re ready, you can tell me what happened.’

Imogen wasn’t in the mood for waiting. ‘When I woke up this morning, I thought it was two days ago.’

‘You mean you got the days mixed up?’

‘No. I lost two days. Forty-eight hours gone.’

‘You can’t remember any of it?’

‘Nothing.’ Panic rising in her voice. ‘I went down to the kitchen, and Jilly started to ask me stuff, and I had no idea what she was talking about. Kate, I can’t even remember coming in here with my parents and sister. Jilly told me we did, but I don’t remember it.’

‘Don’t worry, Imogen. Calm down. We’ll work this out.’

‘Okay.’

‘What is the last thing you remember, before you lost the two days?’

‘I was with my friend Alicia.’

‘Where?’

‘At her house. We were using her laptop, chatting on Facebook.’

‘Were you relaxed?’

‘Yeah, I was grand. Alicia was in great form too.’

‘What were you talking about?’

‘Different things.’

‘Give me an example.’

‘How cute Harry from One Direction is.’ Imogen managed a smile.

‘What else?’

‘Alicia talked about her sister. She’s away in London, but she’s coming home. They’re very close.’

‘When is her sister due back from London?’

‘I don’t know. I can’t remember. I remember her saying her sister was coming home, and after that I remember nothing.’

‘Imogen, do you recall what we spoke about before, about how disassociating yourself from events can happen?’

‘Yes.’

‘I think it’s possible that when Alicia was talking about her sister, you lost yourself for a while. Something triggered it, but we can’t be sure what.’

‘Do you think it has anything to do with me and Jilly? I mean we’re close, like Alicia and her sister.’

‘It could be. The important thing, Imogen, is not to let this upset you.’

‘It’s hard, Kate.’

‘I know it is, but you’re on the right track.’

‘Do you think so?’ Imogen sounded unsure.

‘Yes, you’ll have to trust me. It will come back. It’s just a matter of time.’

Shortly after Imogen had left, Kate phoned O’Connor. The more she thought about the killings, the more the influence of psychosis made sense. If Becon was a driving force, considering what O’Connor had told her about their conversation, it was unlikely that he was the one in any kind of psychotic state.

If psychosis was involved, it tied in with the killer not functioning within his normal routine. It would be practically impossible for him to do so. The signs should be obvious to those near to him.

O’Connor was quick to answer. ‘Kate, I was about to phone you.’

‘I need you to examine the behaviour patterns of the key players we know of, starting with Dominic Hamilton and Martin McKay.’

‘Kate?’

‘What?’ Kate didn’t like the sound of O’Connor’s response.

‘Hamilton’s missing.’

‘How do you mean, missing?’

‘He didn’t go home last night. Lynch spoke to his wife, Valerie, about ten minutes ago. It seems he’s been taking a lot of time off work. His wife felt he had been originally working too hard, but she was also worried that he might be depressed.’

‘And she has no idea where he is?’

‘They’ve barely talked the last number of days. She’s been trying to convince him to get help.’

‘Did his wife say anything else, mention any signs of pent-up aggression, self-harming?’

‘Not that Lynch said.’

‘Can I talk to her, O’Connor?’

‘I’ll get Lynch to give you her number, but there’s something else.’

‘What?’

‘It seems Hamilton and you have something in common.’

‘What’s that?’

‘You both enjoy the occasional run.’

‘Pushing his body hard?’

‘It’s where he does his occasional running that’s important.’

‘Don’t tell me – the canal?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Damn it, O’Connor, maybe we should have connected all this before now.’

‘He’s matching the profile. Strong links to the area, outward signs of life falling apart. He knew both victims.’

‘O’Connor.’

‘Yeah?’

‘If it is Hamilton, and he’s been pushed over the line, it could have been his mother’s death, but it feels like more than that. As I said before, she might have said something before she died or perhaps someone else did.’

‘Whatever, Kate, either way, he’s in my sights.’

‘What about Martin McKay?’

‘I’ve sent a car to his office in town.’

‘You need to tread carefully.’

‘I always do.’

‘Listen to me for a second. There’s a strong possibility that, whoever the killer is, he’s suffering from some form of psychosis.’

‘You mean he’s nuts?’

‘Let’s stick to the medical term, shall we? If the killer is psychotic, he’s most likely only heading one way at this point.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Self-destruction.’

‘You’re talking suicide?’

‘If Dominic Hamilton is unaccounted for, and he turns out to be the killer, you need to remember he hasn’t an awful lot left to lose. He’s risked it all already. But that isn’t the thing that’s worrying me most.’

‘What is?’

‘If he hasn’t already attempted suicide, as I said the other night, there’s every chance he has another victim in mind, and he won’t be capable of waiting a protracted interval either.’

Gerard Hayden’s face looks troubled. The longer he takes to answer me, the more apprehensive I feel. ‘What is it, Gerard?’

‘Someone called to see me the other day, a man. He told me he was your brother.’

‘Dominic?’

‘Yes. He expressed concern for your welfare, advised me to treat you carefully, that you were—’

‘That I was what?’ My voice is suddenly louder, angry.

‘He said that you are somewhat delicate. He used the word “disturbed”.’

‘And what did you say?’

‘Well, naturally, Clodagh, I needed to take his concerns on board.’

‘What did you tell him?’

‘Not a lot. Nothing he didn’t already know. My primary responsibility is to you, which is why I’m telling you this now. If we’re to continue, I don’t want any side issues getting in the way.’

‘I see.’ The thought that Dominic had been meddling, talking to Gerard behind my back, feels like he’s taken something without my permission. The same way Martin has in the past. Did Dominic follow me here? Otherwise how would he have found Gerard Hayden’s house? Perhaps Valerie gave him the address. ‘I need your word, Gerard, that if we’re to continue, anything I reveal to you is kept between ourselves.’ I’m surprised by the strength in my voice.

‘You have it, Clodagh. It’s important that you trust me.’

‘I don’t know that I can trust anyone, Gerard. Not any more. But it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is going back, finding out what happened, and if I had anything to do with it.’

‘Clodagh, do you want to continue?’

I can still see the concern on Gerard’s face. ‘I don’t have any choice.’

‘Right then, Clodagh. Let’s start.’

I look at the first candle Gerard lit, and as I count backwards, I can’t get the image of the flame out of my mind. I feel the same resistance by my conscious mind. A part of me doesn’t want to let go. Is it because I don’t trust Gerard now, or is it because I’m afraid?

‘Clodagh, can you still hear me?’

‘Gerard, it’s not working.’

‘It will, don’t worry. Relax as much as you can. Keep your eyes closed. Clodagh, I’m going to talk you through complete physical relaxation from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. Each step along the way, another part of you will relax, until your body is ready to let your mind follow.’

It’s a relief to physically let go. To feel my body become limp and loose, willing my mind to do the same. Again Gerard needs to change the game plan, first by asking me to count backwards, then counting forward to thirty-seven, moving my eyes from right to left, and back again. It’s harder to let go, now I know what to expect. Gerard asks me to open my eyes, to concentrate on a point on the ceiling above me. When I do, I realise he’s doing the counting, mixing up the numbers, skipping forward and then backwards again. When I least expect it he taps me twice on the forehead, and on the second contact, I feel my mind racing. Almost instinctually, I close my eyes, unsure of where I will end up.

‘Can you still hear me, Clodagh?’

‘Yes.’ My voice is so low I can barely hear it.

‘Where are you?’

‘I’m falling, down, down. It’s dark, black. I’m so afraid. I don’t like this feeling. I don’t want to be here.’

‘Where are you?’

‘At home in Seacrest. The dolls are here.’

‘Which dolls?’

‘Sandy and Debbie. They’re sitting under the blackboard.’

‘Can you see your younger self?’

‘Yes, but it feels wrong.’

‘How is it wrong?’

‘Nobody is talking. I have scissors, small hand scissors. I’m cutting off my dolls’ hair.’

‘Why are you doing that, Clodagh?’

‘I don’t want them to be pretty any more. Their hair is scattered beneath them, like falling leaves. Sandy looks so sad. Her lips are drooping. But Debbie’s different.’

‘How is she different?’

‘Her eyes are angry, wild. “You’ll be sorry,” I hear her say.’

‘Clodagh, what are you feeling?’

‘I still feel frightened. I don’t understand what’s happening. It’s like a bad dream I can’t wake up from.’

‘I want you to go further back, Clodagh. Go back to the first time you felt frightened.’

I have a sense of falling again, tumbling through time and memory.

‘Where are you now, Clodagh?’

‘I’m with my father.’