The Game Changer (11 page)

‘I can appreciate your hurt, Sarah.’

‘When I told him I had no intention of going back to work, he was even more annoyed. I hadn’t said it categorically to my
employer, you see. I didn’t want anyone asking too many questions. It wasn’t like typing other people’s letters was a major career. It was only a part-time job, and we certainly didn’t need the money.’

‘But the job helped you for a while?’

‘Yes, it did. It helped me to pretend my life could get back to normal, but that was before I realised that being normal was society’s way of not letting me be the person I wanted to be.’

‘It’s tough, Sarah. There’s no denying that.’

‘After John left the room,’ she paused, wiping her tears away, ‘I pulled the curtains closed so it would be easier for Lily to fall asleep. I told her that Daddy would understand soon, and I don’t know how long we slept for, but when I saw John standing in the doorway, I knew by the way he held himself that he’d been crying. I waited in silence as he walked over to the bed and sat on the edge. I thought he didn’t want to disturb Lily, and for the first time in a long time, it felt like we were a family again.’

‘I can see why that would be important, Sarah. You have a lot of love to give.’

‘He said my name, softer, more relaxed than he was before. He told me that he loved me, and I could feel my spirits lift, and I thought maybe this wouldn’t be as difficult as I had first envisaged. It was then that he suggested I should get dressed. He wanted us to go for a walk, to spend some quiet time together. I assumed he meant with Lily. I mean, I couldn’t possibly leave her behind, but when …’

‘When what, Sarah?’

‘He looked at me so strangely when I told him I needed to change Lily into warm clothes so she wouldn’t get a chill. I knew then he didn’t love her, but his words hurt so much, delivered with such coldness, when he said, “That thing is not my daughter.”’

‘Do you need a few moments, Sarah, to compose yourself?’

‘No, it’s fine. I turned my back on John, but he kept on talking, saying she wasn’t real. I knew it was hopeless then. He was never going to accept her, no matter how important she was to me.’

‘That must have hurt you.’

‘I told him, I practically spat at him, that she’s real to me. I told him I wasn’t going to let him ruin my happiness, not for the second time. He lost it completely then, and I knew why.’

‘I don’t quite understand, Sarah.’

‘He still blames himself for Lily’s sickness. He delayed bringing us to the hospital, you see, saying first labours always lasted for hours and hours, and wouldn’t it be better to stay at home for as long as possible. He wasn’t to know he was putting her life, and mine, at risk. But last night, when he was denying her, prepared to exclude her from our lives, I wanted to hurt him more than anything. I told him I wouldn’t allow him to harm her or me ever again.’

‘That must have been harsh for him to hear.’

‘I meant every word of it.’

‘I know you did, Sarah.’

‘He went out then for the walk on his own. When he came back, he did that staring thing again, watching me as I attached the new teddy-bear mobile over the cot, before covering Lily up for her night’s sleep. That was when I knew for sure he hated us.’

‘Hate is a very strong word.’

‘You didn’t see how he looked at us.’

‘No, Sarah, I didn’t. What do you want to do?’

‘I need to be somewhere else.’

‘That’s completely understandable.’

‘Can you help me?’

‘Of course – the group is all about supporting one another.’

‘I know the work done at the commune is important, and with a new baby, I wouldn’t be much use on the island. I don’t want to be a burden.’

‘Don’t worry about that. However, going to the island is a big step. Sarah, you need to be sure.’

‘I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, or at least, not for a very long time. I know there is a lot to sort out.’

‘Don’t worry about incidentals, Sarah. Your well-being is what’s paramount.’

‘And Lily’s?’

‘Lily is important to you. Anyone can see that.’

The Game Changer walked over to Sarah, who was now rocking the baby doll. ‘It’s okay, Sarah. Things will work out fine for everyone, you’ll see.’

‘I’m sure about going to the island, but I’ll only go under one condition.’

‘What’s that, Sarah?’

‘I want to pay my way. I’ll take the money out of the bank tomorrow. I don’t know how long I’ll need to stay for, but I don’t want charity.’

‘You’re a proud woman, Sarah. I respect you for that.’

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, MALCOLM HAD LEFT A message on Kate’s voicemail, but as yet she hadn’t replied. Even if his association with Michael O’Neill was innocent, there was no getting away from the fact that Adam had sown a seed of doubt in her mind. Why hadn’t Malcolm connected the suicide case she’d spoken to him about with Michael O’Neill’s death, especially if he knew him? He might have thought she was talking about someone else – she hadn’t mentioned any names – but even so.

The note was still rattling her. She had quizzed Adam earlier about what Sam Miller, the profiler attached to the case, had come up with on O’Neill. According to Sam, the victim had shown numerous tell-tale signs of inability to cope since his retirement, shutting out his wife and other lifelong friends. There were other signs of depression too – calling to the school uninvited, allowing his appearance to deteriorate – and although his form had improved a couple of weeks before his death, the latter, as Sam had pointed out, was not unusual, especially if the deceased had already made the decision to take his own life. A planned suicide often acted as a release valve, with many victims appearing happier before they died. There would have been a feeling of contentment, knowing that whatever troubled them in life soon wouldn’t be able to harm them. The potential blackmail scenario might have compounded matters, all of which pointed in one direction: suicide.

The police still hadn’t any idea where the money had gone. And, although Michael O’Neill’s widow would receive her husband’s life-assurance payment, her financial situation was a lot worse than it should have been. The profile that Sam Miller had drawn up on
the late Michael O’Neill was of a man who was careful, reliable and conservative, at odds with the disappearance of the money, unless blackmail had been at play. It was impossible to work out in retrospect what a person had on their mind before death, and for some reason, this thought brought her back to her reaction the day before, standing outside her old home, thinking someone inside was watching her. Too many questions were floating around in her head, but were her questions feeding into a form of paranoia, making her jittery?

Walking into the study, she pinned a large sheet of white paper to the wall opposite the door, and began to create a variety of mind maps, almost as if she was turning her past life into some kind of investigation. On the first, she wrote Kevin’s name in the subset of friends, then added two question marks, the first after ‘girl’, and the second after ‘man’, thinking about the memory she had of seeing them together from her bedroom window. She kept adding sets under various headings, and more subsets, until the whole sheet was covered. Twiddling the pen, her palms became sweaty. The mind maps didn’t give her any answers, but somehow she felt more certain about one thing: although they held a lot of information, gaps existed.

She pinned up another sheet of white paper, equal in size to the previous one, then another and another, until the whole wall was taken up with them. Some were linked to her life at school, others to her life at home, the friends she used to hang out with, friends of her parents, relations, all the people known to her back then, especially around the time of the attack.

When her mobile phone rang, she saw immediately it was Adam. The call felt almost like a distraction.

‘Hi,’ she said, sounding more together than she felt. ‘Did you get anything on the newspaper clipping?’

‘That’s the bad news, Kate. The techies couldn’t find anything, other than your own prints.’

‘That was stupid of me.’

‘Don’t beat yourself up.’

‘I know, but still … What about Malcolm and the late Michael O’Neill? Have you found out any more about their connection?’

‘I spoke to Malcolm Madden half an hour ago. According to him, he hadn’t seen Michael O’Neill for a couple of months. They met at Golf Classic last year, and although O’Neill wasn’t a client, Madden admitted speaking to him about his low moods. The conversation hadn’t gone down well with O’Neill, and because of that, they had ceased contact.’

‘Seems reasonable … Adam?’

‘Yeah?’

‘I was wondering about visiting Michael O’Neill’s widow.’

‘That’s a bit out of the blue, Kate, especially as you’re not part of the investigation.’

‘I know, but I’d feel better if I did. It’s not that I don’t think Sam Miller is capable, but what harm can it do?’

‘I don’t like it, Kate. I mean, with the chief super and everything, visiting Ethel O’Neill sounds a little …’

‘A little what?’

‘Odd.’

‘Look, I’ll play it easy. Ethel O’Neill was the closest person to the victim, meaning she was also the most likely person to know which of her late husband’s friends or contacts were important to him.’

‘Are you digging because of the Malcolm connection?’

‘It’s not only that. I’ve been thinking about the other killing, the one in Manhattan, and how the killer planted evidence linking O’Neill.’

‘Go on, I’m listening.’

‘If it is a power game, and they’re playing clever, it feeds into a narcissist-type mind-set.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning people’s motivations are complicated. There’s often more than one scenario influencing events.’

‘You’re talking about the different MO?’

‘In part, yes, that is important, but I’m sure there’s more than that happening here.’

‘You’re supposed to be off work, remember?’

‘Do you want to hear my thoughts, or don’t you?’

‘Sure.’

‘To kill Tom Mason in the manner Fisher described required a form of detachment. If power and ego are at play, then the killer may see the victim or victims as a form of collateral damage, unimportant, except in so far as they impinge on the killer’s desires.’

‘And someone capable of inflicting great pain.’

‘Yes, but they also wanted to leave a calling card.’

‘As you said, Kate, ego could be an influencer.’

‘If that’s the case, especially if we’re dealing with a narcissistically motivated individual, the reasons behind the killing are not always straightforward. Minor or major past events could be a factor.’

‘I’m not getting you, Kate.’

‘Look, all I’m saying is that normal rules don’t apply where narcissism is concerned. All sorts of nuances can influence a killer’s behaviour.’

‘Go on.’

‘The heightened narcissism or egotistical beliefs are essentially false, and are often linked to a suppressed low self-esteem. One that can be seriously undermined by rejection, for example, resulting in elevated levels of hatred or jealousy. What one person might take as a slight against their character, a narcissist will see as something else entirely.’

‘Why is that?’

‘To the narcissist, the slight or the offence threatens their grandiose perception. They can also link two totally obscure motivations easier than others, and once they’re connected, their ego will do the rest. They’ll see it all as part of some grand plan they need to control.’

‘So what you’re saying, Kate, is that the Mason case is telling
us more about the killer than the O’Neill case, assuming they are connected.’