Текст книги "Evil Games"
Автор книги: Angela Marsons
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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 23 страниц)
David looked as puzzled as she felt. She turned to the gangly male beside her. ‘Dougie, is there something you’d like to show me?’
Dougie counted along the exercise books and took out the third from the left. He didn’t look at the pages but counted to the seventh page and opened it, then passed it to her.
The writing inside was painfully small. Her eyesight was 20/20 but she had to squint to make out some of the words. It was written in script form with a name and then speech marks.
She looked to the book and back up at Dougie. Goosebumps rose from her skin.
‘Dougie, do you have eidetic memory?’
Dougie offered no response.
David was as confused as she. ‘What the …’
She took another look.
‘David, you thought Dougie was lovesick. You thought he was following Alex around because he liked her, but he was recording her every word.’ She tapped her head. ‘In here.’
She leafed through the book. The pages were filled with writing.
She looked back to him, open-mouthed. ‘This incredible, gifted young man knew what she was before anyone else.’
Kim stepped forward and touched his cheek, gently. He did not pull away
Relief and gratitude flooded her body. ‘Thank you for showing me your work.’
Kim read a paragraph in the book, feeling her anger rise as she did.
IT’S BECAUSE YOU ARE A WASTE OF MY TIME. YOU ARE SO DAMAGED THAT YOU WILL NEVER LEAD A REMOTELY NORMAL LIFE. THERE IS NO HOPE FOR YOU. THE NIGHTMARES WILL NEVER GO AWAY AND EVERY BALDING MIDDLE AGED MALE WILL BE YOUR UNCLE. YOU WILL NEVER BE FREE FROM HIM OR WHAT HE DID TO YOU. NO ONE WILL EVER LOVE YOU BECAUSE YOU ARE CONTAMINATED AND THE TORMENT YOU GO THROUGH WILL BE WITH YOU FOREVER
She lifted her eyes from the page. ‘David, who the hell is Shane?’
FIFTY-NINE
The property was two large houses converted to four one-bedroom flats. Nameplates and a bell were mounted in the doorway.
‘Come on, Charlie,’ Dawson moaned. ‘It’s bloody cold out here.’
‘Keep yer knickers on, Kev,’ Stacey said.
She pressed one of the other buttons. ‘Hello, is that Mrs Preece? Could you buzz to open the door. It’s the police and we’re here …’
Stacey stopped talking when the line cut off. She waited for the buzz of the lock being released. It didn’t sound.
Dawson nudged her out of the way.
He pressed another button. ‘Mr Hawkins, I have a delivery from Amazon.’
The buzzer sounded.
Stacey followed him in. ‘How the hell …’
‘Everybody orders stuff from Amazon.’
He turned left and knocked on the door. No answer. Dawson knocked again.
‘This guy is starting to seriously piss me off now. He won’t like the interview if he makes me angry.’
‘What yer gonna do, waterboard him?’
Dawson chuckled. ‘Stace, that was almost funny.’
‘I don’t like this, Kev,’ she said, leaning down. She looked through the letter box. The jacket and shoes Cook had been wearing a couple of nights before were within her view in the hallway.
‘He’s in there but it’s silent. It don’t feel right.’
They knocked together and shouted.
‘For once, Stace, I agree with you. I think we need to get in.’
‘Should we call the fire service?’ Stacey asked.
‘No, we’ll use the equipment instead.’
Dawson raised the extinguisher and aimed it towards the lock.
‘Have you got my package?’ said an elderly voice from the stairs.
‘Postman said he’d got the wrong address,’ Dawson shouted back.
He hit the door hard with the extinguisher. It burst open on impact. Stacey couldn’t help but be impressed.
‘Hey, what are you doing down there?’
‘We’re the police,’ Stacey shouted back as Dawson called for Charlie.
‘Do you have my package?’
‘No, we’re the police,’ Stacey repeated but louder, following Dawson inside.
‘Awww … shit,’ Dawson said, standing in the doorway.
Stacey came to rest beside him. Her mind echoed his words verbatim.
The grossly overweight man lay sprawled on the bed, face down. He wore light blue boxers and a covering of hair. His right leg dangled off the side of the bed. Aspirin packets sat next to a glass of water.
Stacey sprang into action. She touched the side of his neck. She didn’t remove her fingers until she was sure.
‘Call an ambulance, Kev. He’s still alive. Tell them unconscious but breathing.’
Dawson took out his phone and began to call it through. Stacey grabbed the boxes and started to count.
Dawson was reciting the address and the state of the patient.
‘I make it about twenty-five tablets,’ she said.
Dawson repeated the dose to the dispatcher before ending the call.
They stood and looked at each other.
‘Shouldn’t we be doing something?’ Stacey asked.
Dawson looked around. ‘You could make him a cuppa but I don’t think he’ll drink it.’
Stacey offered him a filthy look.
He opened his arms. ‘What do you want me to say? Can’t give him CPR, thank God. He’s still breathing.’
‘Jesus, Kev, knock it off. Errr … insensitive.’
She moved towards the bed and leaned in close to his ear. ‘Charlie, I’m Detective Constable Wood and …’
‘Bloody hell, Stace, great thing to tell a man already close to death.’
Stacey turned and glared at him as Dawson stepped past her to squeeze the man’s bare shoulder. ‘Alright, Charlie. It’s Kev. Everything’s gonna be okay. Help is on the way. They’ll be here any minute but we’re not going to leave until they’re here.’
Yeah, that was better, Stacey admitted, but only to herself.
‘A cry for help?’ she asked Dawson.
Dawson shook his head and stepped away, lowering his voice.
‘Nah, it’s a serious attempt. He meant to die. No bloke wants to be found like that and then live to tell the tale.’
And at this moment, they didn’t know if he would.
What exactly was Charlie Cook running from?
SIXTY
As she poured the aromatic Colombian Gold, Alex acknowledged that she had planned this session very carefully. Ideally she would have preferred longer to work with Jessica but she was growing impatient for a result. She desperately hoped that Jessica would not be a disappointment to her, like the others.
This was the biggest play of them all. If she could pull this off it would erase the failures of her other subjects. Kim was still a work in progress but Jessica was in a whole different league.
If Alex was interested in helping this woman properly she would be endeavouring to explore Jessica’s past, but that was not her priority. She had limited time. Most women with postnatal psychosis had already experienced an episode of serious mental illness.
Alex was still surprised that the social workers had dismissed it as postnatal depression instead of psychosis even though it only occurred once in every five hundred women. In Jessica, they had found the normal symptoms of depression but hadn’t seen the additional pointers that elevated it into Psychosis.
Jessica had also been prone to severe disturbance of mood, mania, muddled thoughts, false ideas and hearing voices. The onset of the symptoms had occurred quickly after the birth of the child, all indicating post-natal psychosis; a condition that required round-the-clock supervision by competent adults.
Such psychosis often resulted in maternal filicide and Alex needed to establish which major motive was responsible for Jessica wanting to harm her child. She had researched well-known cases for each of the possibilities and they were all fixed in her mind, ready.
She placed the coffee on the table. She really needed to get started.
‘I understand that you told the authorities that you rolled over onto Jamie while taking a nap with him beside you. We both know that’s not true but here I want you to talk openly.’
Jessica looked doubtful.
‘Whatever you say here is confidential. I am here to help you and I can only do that with total honesty. The sooner you tell me everything the quicker I can give you the help that you need.’
Jessica shook her head and stared into the depths of her lap.
Alex had guessed it would be difficult to persuade the woman to divulge her deepest secrets. No mother would wish for Jessica’s thoughts, never mind the burden of saying them out loud. But Alex needed that honesty. She needed those words.
‘Was it anything to do with your husband? Were you angry with him?’
Alex spoke gently and evenly. ‘Spousal revenge is far more common than people think.’ She paused to search for a memory that was stored at the front of her mind.
‘A few years ago a man named Arthur Philip Freeman threw his four-year-old daughter Darcy from the West Gate Bridge in Melbourne during a bitter custody battle. It’s believed he did this purely to make his spouse suffer.’
Alex thought this motive was unlikely for Jessica, as she had said nothing to demonstrate any hostility between herself and her husband. But there was a method to her madness.
‘Were you so angry with your husband that you decided to hurt him by hurting Jamie?’
Jessica slowly shook her head. Good. There was no defence that the incident was accidental. Her head was still cast downwards but the eyes were no longer staring beyond her lap, instead staring at it.
She was listening and that was exactly what Alex wanted. Jessica was not yet ready to admit she was wrong. The judgement of society and her family was responsible for the submission that was weighing her down. What Jessica wanted was understanding, acceptance. Permission. And the knowledge that she was not alone.
‘May I ask if Jamie was planned?’
‘Oh yes,’ Jessica answered immediately. Good, she was alert and connected. And finally she had spoken.
Alex hadn’t seriously thought it was a case of unwanted child filicide but that made no difference to her next move.
She sat back in her chair and just talked.
‘You might not remember but it was all over the news in the mid-nineties. A woman in South Carolina, Susan Smith I think her name was, reported to the police that she’d been carjacked by a black man who had driven away with her two small sons still in the car.
‘Nine days of tearful pleas played out on television for the safe return of her children ended when she confessed to letting her car roll into a nearby lake, drowning her children inside. All to keep her wealthy lover.’
There was no horrified shudder that ran through the body of her patient. Only a slight tip of the head that signalled her attention.
Good. She had achieved the first of the three stages. Understanding. Jessica needed to feel that she was not alone.
‘Honestly, Jessica, the problem is a lot more widespread than people think. You’re not the first person I’ve treated for this condition and you certainly won’t be the last. Your feelings are nothing to be ashamed of. They are part of you and I promise you’ll receive no judgement in this room from me.’
Finally, Jessica raised her head and they made eye contact. Alex smiled sympathetically and continued.
‘I promise I can help you but you have to tell me the truth.’
There was a slight movement of the head. Excellent, they were moving towards acceptance and Alex was left with two possible motives, altruism or delirium, either of which she could work with. From their earlier conversation, she had no reason to suspect Jessica had been delirious. So that left altruism. And in reaching this conclusion Alex had guided Jessica on a journey through successful acts of matricide and now the woman was listening.
Alex sat forward, resting her elbows on her knees.
‘I think you wanted to protect your child, Jessica.’
A single tear appeared and travelled over her cheek.
Oh you fools, Alex thought of the social workers. If they had known the true extent of her illness the child would more than likely have been removed from her care. But that would not have suited Alex one little bit. Social Services could not have sent her a better gift if the woman had appeared wearing a big, red bow.
‘You love Jamie so much you can’t bear the thought of him being hurt. You want to shield him from every bad thing in the world. Am I right?’ Alex asked, softly.
Jessica slowly began to nod her head.
‘He’s so beautiful and perfect and innocent; you can’t bear the thought of him experiencing any pain at all.’
Jessica nodded, more definite.
Alex just needed one last vital piece of information before she could move on to the third part of the process. Permission.
‘Can you remember when the thoughts began?’
The tears dried as she gave the question some thought.
‘It was the news,’ Jessica offered, mechanically. She’d been prescribed medication which had a dulling effect but, of course, it wasn’t the right medication for her condition. Lithium or electro-shock treatment were the most effective but this was further information that it didn’t suit Alex to share with the authorities.
‘Go on.’
‘Not long after I got back from hospital, there was a news report about a bombing in Pakistan. I looked at the pictures and felt frightened of the world I’d brought Jamie into. At first I just tuned into the news programmes now and again, but then I had the twenty-four-hour channels on all day every day. Eventually, I’d be holding Jamie with one hand and checking the news on my phone at the same time. It was like an addiction.’
‘What were you looking for?’
‘Hope. But the whole world was filled with death and destruction and hatred. I couldn’t understand why I hadn’t seen all this before I became pregnant. How could I have brought him into such a terrible world?’
Alex nodded her understanding. Jessica’s motive was the most common: altruistic. She genuinely believed her child would be better off dead, for any number of reasons. The condition often manifested because the mother felt that she could not protect the child adequately from threats, whether real or imagined.
‘Can you tell me some of the things that frightened you?’
‘One day I was reading about bombs exploding, whole families being tortured and killed in third world countries. There was hunger, starvation, drought, civil war. I tried to tell myself that all these things happened in someone else’s country but then I saw articles on car accidents, children being stabbed by other children, a man beaten to death for a bottle of wine, and I realised that it was all getting closer. Too close.’
Jessica stared into the distance without blinking as she recounted all of her fears. And there were quite a few to work through. Alex was pleased that she didn’t have to bother.
‘So, what did you do?’
‘I had Jamie on the sofa beside me and suddenly I felt this overwhelming urge to save him; protect him from the evils surrounding him. I visualised him just falling asleep and being safe. I just lay against him and closed my eyes. For a while I felt calm, as though I was finally taking proper care of my child.’
‘What happened next?’
‘Mitch came back from work early to check on me. I didn’t hear him come in. He pushed me aside, grabbed Jamie and rushed him to the hospital.’
‘How did you feel? And please, for the sake of your recovery, be honest.’
Jessica closed her eyes and hesitated for so long Alex wondered if she’d fallen asleep.
Alex prompted. ‘Jessica, please. I really would like to help you but I can’t unless you tell me the whole truth.’
Jessica sighed deeply but didn’t open her eyes. ‘I felt disappointed. Jamie wasn’t even struggling. It was like he knew what I was trying to do and understood it. He was just going to go to sleep. It felt so right.’
Alex marvelled at just how simple this was going to be.
‘Did Mitchell understand once you explained it to him?’
Jessica shook her head. ‘I didn’t tell him. He’d already assumed I had just fallen asleep and rolled onto the baby. That was what he told the hospital staff but social services got involved and prosecuted me for child neglect.’
Alex heard the disbelief in Jessica’s voice. In her own delusional haze Jessica couldn’t comprehend that anyone would even think that about her. The fact that she’d lied to her husband signalled that the belief in her own motivation was still within her.
‘The judge ordered me to get counselling and that was it. I’ve kept up the charade because it seems to be what everyone wants to hear. You’re the first person I’ve been honest with.’
‘And how does that feel?’ Alex asked, kindly. Trust was important.
‘Better. Everyone around me has the same expression. Even my own mother looks terrified if I go within ten feet of my baby.’
‘Are they right to watch you closely?’
Jessica hesitated. ‘I would never do anything that was not in the best interest of my child. Never.’
Alex noted the play on words. Yes, the motivation was definitely still there. Alex forced herself to go slowly.
Still, Jessica was seeking permission to do what she felt was right. Alex forced the smile out of her face.
‘Strangely it is a Western belief that your motives are wrong. There is a Buddhist belief in transmigration that dictates that a child who is killed will be reborn in better circumstances.’
Alex nodded with a look of ‘go figure’ on her face. She didn’t explain that this was believed by people who were too poor to feed their children and so felt that the child would be reborn in circumstances whereby it wouldn’t starve to death.
Jessica was nodding intently.
Alex really should be alerting social services that this woman was still a danger to her child. She should be informing them that she was not suffering from postnatal depression. She should be telling them that the medication she was taking was not correct for her condition.
However, none of these actions suited her purpose.
Alex removed her glasses and looked up to the left, searching for a memory that was rehearsed, ready and waiting. Jessica’s eyes never strayed from her face. Alex wanted to laugh out loud. She could not have scripted this session any better and real excitement began to form in her stomach. Jessica could be the one.
She lowered her eyes to meet the expectant gaze of Jessica. ‘Actually, come to think of it, your situation reminds me of an American woman called Andrea Yates. She had similar fears to you, only she saw the devil everywhere. She was devoutly religious and loved her children very much.
‘Every day she was terrified that the devil would claim them and that as they grew older she would not be able to keep them safe.
‘The authorities felt that Andrea should never be left alone with her five children, so the family set up a rota system so that someone was always in the house with her. Like you, she was monitored every single day. But one day her husband, also a religious man, decided that the authorities were wrong and placed his trust in God to take care of his family. He left for work before the next caretaker arrived and Andrea seized her opportunity. She drowned her children one by one in the bathtub.’
Alex looked for shock in Jessica’s features but saw only undivided attention.
‘Throughout her trial Andrea maintained that she’d done it out of love for her children, to protect them. Society judged her to be wrong but I’d like you to give some thought to how you feel about that case before our next session.’
Right on cue, the alarm on her watch sounded. ‘Okay, Jessica, that’s all for today.’ She sighed heavily. ‘My next session is a five-year-old girl whose face was ravaged after a dog attack.’ Alex shook her head. ‘Poor child was just playing in the park.’
Alex would have loved to take a photo of the terror on Jessica’s face. She guided her patient to the door and opened it. ‘I’ll see you next week, take care.’
Jessica nodded and passed through the open door.
Alex closed the door. She hoped there would be no session next week. The next time she wanted to see Jessica’s face was on the evening news.
SIXTY-ONE
Jessica Ross stumbled out of the premises. She had to get home. Jamie needed her. The neighbours had a dog they often left out in the garden. It could jump the fence and get into the house.
She put the car into gear, silently thanking God for bringing her to Alex; the one single person that understood what she was going through. Being able to open up and be completely honest with Alex had cleansed her of the crippling self-doubt she harboured for her feelings. The story Doctor Thorne had told her of the American woman, Andrea something, was playing over in her mind. She was running out of time.
… As they grew older she would not be able to keep them safe.
Danger was everywhere. The traffic lights at which she now waited could easily malfunction, meaning the cars hurtling down the hill could crash into the side of her Citroen. It had happened in Gornal two years ago and a little girl had been trapped in the wreckage for over an hour.
A car horn sounded behind her. The lights were green. Jessica turned and headed past the garden centre on her left. Two little girls were laughing and running around the car park. They could easily run into the road and be killed. Only last month this stretch of road had claimed a teenage cyclist.
She passed the national speed limit sign but kept to thirty miles an hour between fields on either side. If something were to run out in front of her she would have time to stop.
The vehicle behind rushed up in her rear-view mirror. She saw the crude hand signals he offered as his front bumper played kiss chase with her tailgate. She focussed on the road ahead.
She carefully eased the car to the middle of the road to turn right into the family estate. The car behind honked and sped past on her left, causing a gust of wind to rock the car slightly. She looked to the dashboard. Damn, she’d forgotten to indicate.
She passed a woman pushing a buggy. To her right was a lead that secured a brown Labrador to the handle. On her left was a toddler holding onto the other handle. The dog was on the inside, nearest the houses, and the child was closest to the road. At any second the dog could see a cat and react, taking the whole family with it. Why could people not see these things? Even a simple trip to the park was fraught with danger.
Five-year-old girl … face ravaged … dog attack.
Jessica parked the car in front of her sister’s Ford Ka and let out a breath. The little girl with half a face had chased her all the way home.
She looked towards her home and she knew what she had to do. The meeting with Alex had only clarified what she already knew.
‘Hi, sis, I’m back,’ she called from the front door. The sound of Jamie crying met her ears.
Jessica fought the urge to tear into the lounge, grab her child and protect him. She had to do this right. It was her only chance.
Emma was circling the lounge, rocking Jamie back and forth in her arms. ‘He’s been like this the whole time. I can’t settle him.’
Jessica offered her sister what she hoped was a bright smile and held out her arms. ‘Here, let me take him.’
Jessica took her child into her arms and rocked him gently. She felt his body relax into her own. Content. He knew.
Jessica caught the brief expression of relief that passed over her sister’s face. She resented the fact that everyone thought she had the ability to hurt her child when all she wanted to do was protect him. Any sign of affection to her baby was met with secret little nods and whispers in corners.
‘Good visit?’ Emma asked, sitting on the sofa.
Jessica nodded. ‘Talking with Alex is really helpful. I feel so much better already.’ She stroked her son’s hair. ‘Don’t I, little munchkin?’
She continued to walk around, rocking his little body against her own. ‘I’d never hurt him, Emma,’ she said, fixing her sister with what she hoped was a clear gaze.
Emma swallowed. ‘I know, Jess.’
She softened her gaze. ‘Look, he knows I’d never harm him, don’t you angel?’
He gurgled back at her. Emma laughed.
Jamie’s eyes started to droop with all the rocking. Jessica kissed his head and placed him into the Moses basket.
… Before the next caretaker arrived … seized her opportunity.
She turned to her sister. It was time for her to leave. ‘Well, I’m going to have a nice, long bath while Jamie takes a nap. You’re welcome to sit and wait if you want to.’
She caught Emma’s quick glance at the clock above the fireplace. She had three children of her own and many things to do.
‘Mum’s going to be here in twenty minutes, Em. I’ll be fine.’
Emma looked doubtful.
Jessica smiled reassuringly. ‘Emma, I’m really okay, I promise. I feel so much better.’
Emma looked away. ‘It’s okay. I’ll just wait for a little bit, make sure he’s settled off to sleep.’
Jessica shrugged and headed up the stairs, wishing her sister would just leave. Time was running out. She was halfway up when she heard her name.
‘What is it, Em?’
She turned to find Emma at the bottom of the stairs reaching for her coat. ‘You’re right. I know it’s okay. I trust you.’
Jessica returned to the hallway and hugged her sister. Finally she was going. ‘I really am fine, Em. Don’t worry.’
She opened the front door to let her sister out of the house.
Emma turned. ‘You’re sure?’
Jessica gave her one last hug and nodded. ‘We’ll be fine. I only want what’s best for him.’
Emma walked slowly to her car, probably questioning her decision, but Jessica offered a bright smile as reassurance. If Emma tried to call their mother she would already be on her way and wouldn’t answer her mobile while driving. If she called Mitch it would take him at least twenty minutes to get home.
As her sister pulled away, Jessica offered one last wave and closed the door behind her.
The second she entered the lounge a calmness settled around her that she welcomed. The sound of the television faded into the background.
After her session with Alex she had no doubt that she had been right all along. Initially, Jessica had questioned herself due to the reactions of everyone around her and so she had pretended, she had appeased, and all along she’d been the one in the right.
Her session with Alex had not only given her the confidence in her own convictions, it had vindicated her. She no longer felt guilty for her thoughts. She felt righteous and empowered.
‘Come to Mummy, sweetheart,’ she cooed, reaching into the Moses basket.
His sleepy little body squirmed once and then burrowed into her; his safe place.
She selected a knife from the kitchen drawer and mounted the stairs. She placed Jamie gently in the middle of the bed she shared with Mitch.
In the en-suite bathroom, she placed the knife on the edge of the tub and ran both the hot and cold water to fill the bath quickly. Her son would not be without her for long.
She went to Jamie’s room and took a moment to select his outfit; settling on a white romper suit covered with blue baby dinosaurs. It was her favourite.
Back in the bathroom she turned off the taps and undressed quickly, slipping into a white towelling robe.
As she entered the bedroom, she took a moment to observe her son, awake now, intrigued by these new surroundings. His small hands grabbed at the quilt cover. Jessica felt a rush of pride.
She stood for a moment at the bedroom window, observing a world that allowed the danger to creep closer every day. Satisfied, she closed the blinds and blocked out the terror. The crawling, invisible evil would never get the opportunity to harm her child.
The darkened room became intimate and safe.
Jessica smiled down at her child as she removed his white babygro. His legs flailed as she changed his nappy and redressed him in the romper suit.
Jamie was safe, right here. Nothing had yet hurt him and at this moment nothing could. As a mother it was up to Jessica to protect him. And she would.
A child who is killed will be reborn in better circumstances.
In another time the world would not be filled with cruelty and violence. Children would have the freedom to grow up without fear and intimidation. In another life, her son would be safe.
Jessica stared down into the eyes of her child as she reached for the pillow.
Jamie gurgled up at her, his limbs shooting out in all directions; happy, excited.
‘I love you so much it hurts, my darling. I know you understand that I have to protect you from this world. I cannot allow you to be hurt or damaged by anything. There is danger everywhere and I have to keep you safe. I know you feel it too, don’t you, sweetheart?’
He squealed with delight and Jessica knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she was doing the best thing, the only thing possible to protect her child.
She leaned over him and placed kisses on his chubby cheeks, his forehead and the tip of his nose.
‘We will be together soon, my darling, sweetest angel.’
Jessica lowered the pillow and covered the face of her son.
