Текст книги "Evil Games"

Автор книги: Angela Marsons

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

FORTY-SIX

At 9.30 a.m. Kim pulled into a space around the corner from Alexandra Thorne’s premises, feeling a little like a schoolgirl truanting for the first time. Telling Bryant that she had a dentist appointment was the first time she’d ever lied to him and she hoped it would be the last, but with this particular case, she was flying solo.

The door was promptly answered.

As the meeting was at her request, Kim guessed it was appropriate to show some manners.

‘Thank you for seeing me, Doctor Thorne.’

‘Of course, Detective Inspector Stone,’ Alex smiled widely. ‘However, as you wish this visit to be a non-professional one, I insist that you call me Alex.’

Kim nodded her agreement and followed Alex into the office. The doctor looked impeccable in tailored cream trousers and an aqua silk shirt. She wore no jewellery and her hair was perfectly styled.

‘Please, sit anywhere you like.’

‘No patients this morning?’ Kim asked, realising her words sounded like an interrogation question. In her head she had meant to say, ‘I hope I’m not keeping you’, but it looked like her reservoir of good manners was all dried up.

‘No, this is a free period that I normally use to take care of billing.’ A faint look of distaste crossed her face. ‘Not my favourite part of the job, but we all have to live.’

And nicely too, Kim thought, knowing the doctor leased the whole building. She guessed that it didn’t come cheap.

Kim knew she had to say something about their last meeting when she had been less than graceful about Alex’s success in keeping Barry Grant on the ledge.

‘Listen, about the other night …’

Alex held up her hand and laughed. ‘Please don’t say anything. I’m not at all sure I could accept any kind of compliment from you.’

Kim marvelled at Alex’s assumption that she was about to offer a compliment. Of course, whatever else could Kim have been about to say?

This was a different Alex to the ones she’d seen previously. The first visit she had been professional and severe with a hint of coyness for Bryant’s benefit. At the cemetery she had been introspective and vulnerable. With Barry, Alex had been proactive and driven. Right now she seemed almost playful and flirtatious.

‘I need to be sure this conversation goes no further,’ Kim stated.

To appeal to the doctor’s curiosity, Kim had told Alex that there were issues she’d like to discuss but she couldn’t have a registered visit on her record. Any other psychiatrist would have told her to get stuffed, but she had not been surprised at Alex’s generous donation of her time. Alex wanted something from her but she still wasn’t sure what.

‘Of course, Kim. As far as I’m concerned this is no more than two acquaintances having a chat over coffee, talking of which, I’m guessing white, no sugar?’

Kim nodded. It occurred to her that Alex had stripped her of her title without even asking for permission. Few people called her Kim. It made her a little uncomfortable but under the pretext of the visit she couldn’t complain.

As Alex placed the coffee on the table between them, Kim realised that when Alex had told her to sit, she had been standing in front of the only other available chair, forcing Kim to sit in the patient chair. Kim knew she was going to have to be careful.

‘So, what can I help you with?’

Kim chose her words carefully. ‘When we were talking at the cemetery, you said some things that got me thinking.’

Kim raised her eyes. Someone less astute might have missed the triumph that emerged momentarily in Alex’s expression, quickly replaced by an apologetic shake of the head. But Kim noted it all.

‘I’m so sorry. I should never have spoken the way I did. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I have few friends and I suppose a place like that amplifies your vulnerabilities.’ Alex smiled and tipped her head back. ‘Additionally I think you are a very easy person to talk to.’

Again with the flattery, Kim thought. Fortunately she was impervious to it, especially when she herself knew she possessed the warmth and charm of a Middle Eastern dictator.

Kim just nodded and remained silent, forcing Alex to continue.

‘None of us are perfect. We all have insecurities, but usually we hide our weaknesses from those around us for fear it might diminish their respect. Take yourself, for example, whatever you wish to discuss is something you probably wouldn’t share with your work colleagues.’

Alex was right. She had arranged this meeting under the pretext of discussing sleep disorders and although it was nothing more than a ruse it was a problem that she didn’t share with anyone.

Kim sipped her coffee, again forcing Alex to keep talking.

‘A woman in your position, with authority over a team formed predominantly of males can’t afford to show vulnerabilities. You probably think your team would respect you less and so you work harder to hide any weaknesses. Their opinion of you may not affect your ability to do your job but their validation and respect is imperative to you for more reasons than you care to admit.’

Kim decided it was probably a good idea to stop the doctor talking right about now. Her theory was a little too close for comfort.

‘You talked about sleep disorders. I could use some advice on that.’

‘Oh, Kim, I’m sorry. I’ve made you feel uncomfortable. I apologise. Occupational hazard, I’m afraid.’

Kim detected more amusement than sincerity in the words and recognised the prod as a mild rebuke: Do you see what happens if you keep me talking?

‘Not at all,’ Kim said, smiling. The forced expression felt alien on her face so she removed it.

‘Have you ever sought help for the problem?’

Kim shook her head. She wasn’t seeking a cure. She’d given up on that many years ago. No, she was here for one reason; to establish Alex Thorne’s guilt or any involvement in a crime.

Alex settled back into her chair, crossed her legs and smiled. ‘Well, the good news is that people who suffer with insomnia have a higher metabolic rate and tend to live longer than people who sleep for seven to eight hours per night. Severe insomnia is classed as less than three and a half hours per night.’

‘That’s me.’

‘Have you tried any of the remedies, like dark therapy or cognitive behaviour therapy? Have you carried out sleep hygiene?’

Kim shook her head. All things she’d read about but never bothered to try. Getting help for her sleep disorder was not her reason for coming.

‘You see, there are different types of insomnia. Difficulty in falling asleep often comes from anxiety. Some people go to sleep okay but keep waking during the night and others rise very early regardless of the time they go to sleep.’

‘I can’t go to sleep,’ Kim said, honestly. It didn’t hurt to offer a small amount of information.

‘That can be a symptom of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. There can exist a paradoxical intention to try and stay awake.’

‘Trust me, I want to sleep.’

Alex looked thoughtful. ‘How long ago did the problem start?’

‘Years ago,’ she answered, vaguely. The truth without the timeline.

‘Have you heard the term somniphobia?’

Kim shook her head and tried to keep her breathing even. Perhaps this had not been such a good idea after all.

‘It’s an abnormal fear of sleep, often established in childhood, following a trauma.’

Kim could swear that the doctor’s voice lowered slightly, gently. Or she could just be completely paranoid. The words childhood and trauma were spoken more like a whisper.

‘No, it was in college, I think.’

The doctor said nothing.

Kim spoke with a half-smile. ‘My childhood was pretty normal; loved sweets, hated cabbage, normal arguments with parents about staying out too late.’

Alex smiled at her and nodded.

‘I think it might have been the stress of exams.’

Just in time, Kim realised the doctor had used her own technique of remaining silent against her. Luckily she’d realised before she’d revealed any truth of her childhood at all.

‘You know, Kim, it’s surprising how many times you used the word “normal”. Most people say that about their childhood and yet there is no such thing unless you live in a television commercial. What did your parents do?’

Kim thought quickly and chose the sixth set of foster parents. ‘My mum worked part-time at Sainsbury’s and my dad was a bus driver.’

‘Any siblings?’

Kim’s mouth dried and she only trusted herself to shake her head.

‘No major losses or traumatic events before the age of ten?’

Again, Kim shook her head.

Alex laughed. ‘Then you truly did have a charmed childhood.’

‘How soon after the loss of your family did your sleeping problems start?’ Kim asked, diverting the conversation from herself. Perhaps she would learn something if the doctor started talking about herself.

Alex appeared momentarily surprised, but she recovered well. Her eyes glanced back to the photo on the desk and her voice was barely audible. Kim watched with renewed interest, now knowing the family never existed.

‘Losing Robert and the boys almost destroyed me. Robert was my soulmate. Unlike yourself we’d both had troubled childhoods and were drawn to each other. We tried for two years before Mitchell was born. He was quiet and sensitive. Nineteen months later came Harry who was the complete opposite of his brother.’ Alex looked at her, tears reddening her eyes. ‘My family was complete and then one day wiped out by a tired lorry driver who walked away with a broken wrist.’

Despite herself, Kim was entranced by Alex and couldn’t help doubting everything that had driven her to arrange this meeting. Her performance outshone Paltrow, Berry and Streep combined. And still there was something missing. And Kim was now surer than ever.

‘Didn’t you have any family to support you?’

Alex shook her head and collected herself. ‘My parents had passed away and I think I already mentioned that my sister died when I was nine years old.’

If she hadn’t been aware of the facts, Kim would have believed every word. But she knew the truth – and that made Alex’s performance all the more horrific.

‘That’s awful, I’m so sorry. Were you close to …’

‘Sarah. Her name was Sarah. She was younger and followed me everywhere. One day I told her to get lost. She went to the pond and fell in. My mother was, umm let’s say, forgetful and wasn’t watching her. It’s quite profound losing a sibling at a young age, especially when there is a part of you that feels that you should have been able to save them.’

Kim clenched her jaw and tried to ignore the light-headedness that threatened her. She had to get out of this room before she lost the ability to breathe.

‘But you wouldn’t understand that, with your normal childhood.’

Kim was saved by the sound of the buzzer. Annoyance flashed across Alex’s face as Kim propelled herself to a standing position.

‘I really must …’

‘I’m sorry, Kim. My ten thirty must be early.’

‘Thank you for your time, Doctor. I guess I’ll look up some of those techniques you mentioned.’

‘Please feel free to come and see me again. I’ve quite enjoyed our little chat.’

Kim nodded her thanks and followed the doctor to the door. She glanced briefly at the woman as they passed but her focus was on reaching the safety of her Golf before she collapsed.

Kim managed to get herself into the vehicle successfully but putting the key into the ignition proved one challenge too far and the keys fell into the foot well.

There was no question that although Kim might have requested the meeting, it was most definitely Alex’s agenda they had followed.

Kim banged her hand on the steering wheel. Damn it, that was not the meeting she’d planned.

The doctor had lied again about the family that didn’t exist and fabricated a whole history about a dead sibling. Kim felt sick to her stomach.

Kim had known that Alex would be a formidable adversary. Her intelligence and lack of emotional response already afforded her the edge. Even so, Kim had been prepared to enter into battle with the tools they held here and now. A fair fight would be fought in the present.

If Kim was even half right about Alex’s manipulations, the knowledge she had gained of her past presented a whole different ball game.

Alex had clearly found her history for a reason. She had to wonder what it might cost her to discover why.

FORTY-SEVEN

Alex asked her next appointment to wait for a few minutes in the small foyer while she collected herself. She was both irritated and jubilant. Jessica Ross could not have timed her early arrival any worse if she’d tried.

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.