Recompense

by Caroline Goldsworthy

  ‘Yes, that sounds good. I’d like to see them,’ Adam replied, panting as he tried to keep his footing on the slippery shingle.

  ‘Ah, well, Adam, that’s where we have a problem,’ said his companion giving him a nudge with their shoulder.

  ‘We do?’

  ‘Yes, Adam, we do. You see my friend lost her cameras the night she was attacked.’

  Adam swallowed. A chill began in his stomach and spread throughout his body. ‘Attacked?’ he whispered.

  ‘She lost everything that night. Not just her cameras, they can be replaced. But she’s a shadow of the person she used to be. That woman has gone. Gone forever.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Adam.

  ‘Yes, you should be. You and your friends.’

  ‘My friends? What have my friends got to do with it?’ Adam stepped backwards, realising he should run, as sudden understanding flooded over him. He stumbled on the loose gravel and tripped. ‘It’s you. You’re the one who’s been killing my friends aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, that was me. It was all me.’

  Adam sobbed, peering up at the figure though his open fingers as his new acquaintance leaned over him.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll make it quick,’ his companion lied.

  7th July 2018

  The body rested on the beach, far above the tideline, laying near two pools filled by rainwater and winter waves. His head rested on a low rock; his eyes covered with compact flash memory cards. He was still mostly clothed, although he had bled out and the rust coloured liquid seeped into the small stones beneath his body.

  When Carlson arrived, Adam was already ensconced in the incident tent, with Dr Kilburn and two of the CSI team.

  ‘Good morning, Ronnie,’ said Kilburn cheerily. ‘We meet again, although this one is a bit fresher than the first two. As you can see, he’s been stabbed here and here. Unusual places, but it eventually led to him bleeding out. But you will also have noticed the blood on his face. I have a suspicion as to what we will find under those cards.’

  ‘What are they?’ asked Carlson.

  ‘Compact flash memory cards, sir,’ replied the photographer. ‘They’re used for digital SLR cameras like this one.’

  ‘I see, my wife has a digital camera but it uses much smaller cards,’ said Carlson. ‘Have we got all this captured?’

  The CSI nodded and Kilburn eased the memory card off Adam’s face and popped it into an evidence bag. There was a sharp intake of breath from the four in the tent who were still breathing.

  ‘I did wonder,’ said Kilburn. ‘There are times when it’s nice to be wrong. This would have been one of those times.’

  He removed the remaining flash card and that too was captured by the waiting CSI.

  ‘What does it all mean?’ said Carlson. ‘I take it they’ve not been found?’

  ‘No, if they’d been left by the body anything could have taken them. Fox from the golf course, seagull. Anything,’ said Kilburn.

  ‘Yes, of course, but the mutilation is significant,’ said Carlson, as they all leaned forward, gaping in silence at the body and the empty sockets where his eyes had been. Carlson was the first to recover his equilibrium. He wrenched himself upright, unable to take his eyes off the empty sockets where the dead man’s eyes should have been. He sighed. ‘I’ll see you later for the autopsy?’

  ‘Yes, first thing in the morning, I think,’ replied Kilburn distractedly. ‘It’ll give Kirsty’s people ample time to gather all they can from here.’

  Carlson nodded, left the tent, and staggered across the pebbles to the inner cordon where he removed his protective clothing. It was collected and placed in an evidence bag. He ducked under the tape and met with his team of officers.

  ‘Bled to death, eyes cut out, and memory cards placed over the eye sockets,’ he said to his team. ‘Who found him?’

  ‘Jogger,’ said Poole. ‘He runs along the sea wall every morning before the family wakes up. Out and back. It was the birds that attracted his attention, he says. It was still dark, he said, when he ran past on the outward leg around four thirty am, but just getting light on the return, so they were circling. Must have been like something out of a horror film.’

  ‘Believe me, it was like that close up,’ said Carlson, pressing his thumb and forefinger into his own eye sockets. ‘Jervis says he’ll do the autopsy first thing, just as soon as Kirsty’s team can release the body. He still has his wallet so they’ve identified him already. Adam Waite. Jane, would you come with me and do the death knock. Ben, you and Tim, witnesses, house-to-house etc. You know the drill. We’ll meet you back at the factory later.’

  Jessop and Poole nodded and Lacey stumbled after Carlson’s long strides, as he lumbered over the shifting stones.

  13th July 2018

  Ben Poole sat repositioning the cutlery and napkins on the table. He’d asked for the flowers to be replaced by something more symmetrical and he’d eaten all the breadsticks. Is she not coming? he wondered. Was it a trick? Punishment for going off and leaving her behind? Thoughts raced through his head, playing hide and seek in his mind. As soon as he dismissed one with logical discourse another popped up and teased him with malignant memories of his behaviour towards women. Am I that bad, he wondered? I’ve always tried to keep my distance. He knew he could not keep his distance from this woman any longer but… and there she was. In a simple, green shift dress, which clung to her curves as she strolled towards his table. Her hair was loose, and the auburn waves bounced on her shoulders. Every man in the place was staring at her. Some of the women too. Poole’s heart thumped against his ribs and he thought it would burst through his chest wall like a cartoon creature’s heart.

  She was not unaware of the impression she made but her eyes were only for him. Her lips curved in a smirk of amusement.

  ‘Hello, Ben,’ she said. ‘Sorry I’m late. I thought I could fit in one last test and of course, it took longer than anticipated. I hope you’ve not been waiting too long?’

  ‘No, no. Not at all,’ he said. ‘I’ve not been here long myself.’

  He saw her looking at the half empty bottle of wine on the table and she gave him an appraising look. ‘Okay, you’ve got me,’ he said. ‘I’ve been here a while and have probably drunk a little too much.’

  She laughed and sat as the waiter pulled out her chair for her. Placing a clutch bag which matched the colour of the dress on the table, she reached for the bottle and poured herself some wine. ‘Do I need to catch up?’ she said. ‘At least it’s not a school day tomorrow.’

  ‘I should probably slow down. I do have to work tomorrow,’ he said reluctantly, as he reached for his wine glass. ‘I want to go over the statements we’ve received so far. The boss said he’d come in too and we can have a chat and exchange theories.’

  She nodded. ‘There’s an email waiting for you both; that’s what I was waiting on. There’s a partial on one of the memory cards, but it’s not in the system. Sorry,’ she shrugged. ‘But at least when you catch him, you’ll have something to compare.’

  ‘When?’ Poole said glumly. ‘It’s beginning to feel more like if. Anyway, we have plenty of other occasions to talk about the case. What about you? What drew you to the murky world of crime scene investigation?’

  ‘Don’t laugh, but TV shows like CSI and NCIS. Oh, and Buffy,’ she giggled, hiding her mouth behind her hand.

  ‘Buffy, as in the vampire slayer?’ Poole grinned. ‘Really? Are there any forensics in Buffy?’

  ‘No, but it’s all that female crime fighter vibe going on. You know?’ she replied. ‘One woman fighting all the evil in the world. Anyway, I was twelve. So don’t be so judgy. What were you watching?’

  ‘Oh, now let me think,’ he said taking a sip of water. ‘NYPD Blue, The X-Files and Father Ted.’

  ‘They’re all a bit before my time,’ she smiled at him. ‘Though I did love the X-Files. I caught up with it at uni.’

  They both looked up as the waiter hovered close by. P
oole held up five digits at him and the man nodded and went to hover near another table.

  ‘I guess we’d better order,’ he said. ‘What do you fancy?’ He studied the menu and completely missed her looking him over and licking her lips.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  6th September 2016

  Bristol

  ‘It is you, isn’t it?’ A man with several bags of shopping plonked himself in the chair opposite Lissa in Torrie’s waiting room. ‘We met at the Abbey earlier this year?’ He half stood and stretched his hand out, expecting it to be shaken.

  Lissa recoiled in her chair. He dropped his hand and sat down again. She looked him over nervously, noticing his shy smile. A woman in a business suit pushed past Lissa and into Torrie’s room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

  ‘Do you remember me? It’s Malcolm. I told you to call me Mal, like all my friends do,’ he said, staring at the closed door. ‘I seem to have got my appointments muddled this week. Looks as if I’ve got a bit of a wait. I was going to get myself a coffee, are you rushing off? I could make one for you. I have doughnuts.’

  Lissa studied him more carefully, vaguely remembering the scruffy pale hair. His slightly crooked smile lit his face up and she tried to relax. Just a little.

  ‘I’m waiting for a taxi to take me home,’ she said. ‘It should be here by now. I’m expecting it any minute.’ The words tumbled out in a rush; she knew it was because of her anxiety to get away from a man. A man who simply wanted to make her a coffee and share his bag of doughnuts. What was it Torrie had just said.

  ‘You are making great progress, but get out and meet people now. Go to a café with Jenni. Meet some of your other friends. You don’t have to stay long. Take time for a coffee, a natter and maybe a snack.’

  Lissa’s eyes drifted to her mobile and the text message from the taxi company. Car stuck in traffic. Ten minute delay. ‘Okay,’ she finally said, deciding to take the risk. ‘My taxi is going to be late, but no coffee, I’ll grab a water.’

  ‘Good,’ he said and strolled to the table where the coffee and tea materials were. ‘Help yourself to a doughnut. They’re freshly baked, still warm.’ He passed her a napkin from the pile near the sugar and milk.

  Lissa took it from him and grabbed a doughnut. It was warm and squidgy, the dusting of sugar forming crystallised lumps on the surface. As she bit in, the warm jam oozed into her mouth and down her chin.

  ‘Here, let me,’ he said, and before she could stop him the man had wiped her chin with another napkin.

  Lissa shot back away from him, dropping the doughnut on the floor. She clutched her handbag close and began to hyperventilate. Seeing the horrified look on his face, she calmed her breathing and started to apologise.

  ‘No, no, no,’ he said. ‘My fault. I should never have been so presumptuous. We’re all here for something aren’t we?’ He bent down and covered the doughnut in the napkin and placed it in the bin. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. Rinsing his hands at the small sink he wiped them on a towel and moved away from the sink so that Melissa could rinse her own hands.

  ‘It’s my fault,’ she said. She turned to face him and accepted the towel from him. ‘I’m still very jumpy. I don’t like people getting too close to me. Especially men.’ She heard his sharp intake of breath and looked at him. She could see his face twisted in pain.

  ‘Then it’s me who should apologise,’ he said.

  ‘You did,’ she replied. Her mobile pinged a single note and she retrieved it from her bag to read the text message. ‘Thank you. I appreciate it. I really do. Anyway my taxi’s here. I have to go. Thank you for the doughnut.’

  She pulled the door open and, as she was about to leave, she turned and smiled. ‘Thank you,’ she said again, and ran to the waiting cab.

  I watched her run to her taxi, knowing that I had overstepped her invisible boundaries. I thought we had become closer when we were in the hospital, but perhaps I was wrong. But at least now, I knew where to find her. I knew what time her appointment was. I was sure that I could persuade Torrie to let me move my appointment so that I could have a few moments with her each week.

  Just to make sure she was okay. Nothing more than that. Simply to make sure she stayed out of harm’s way. There would be nothing wrong with that, would there?

  I looked at the bags of shopping, my props for our meeting. Most of them were empty boxes, resealed to look like the real thing. I thought about leaving them under the table in the waiting room, but I knew Torrie would be suspicious so I took them with me, and threw it all in a bin down the road. Except for the doughnuts. I’d eat the rest at home and relive that moment of the sheer ecstasy on her face as she bit into the warm jam.

  27th September 2016

  Bristol

  Lissa slumped into the chair in Torrie’s room. ‘I’m exhausted,’ she said. ‘Absolutely exhausted.’

  ‘How are you settling in?’ Torrie asked.

  ‘Slowly. It’s weird being somewhere new and there’s more traffic noise than at my parents’ place, but I think I’ll settle down in time. It’s only been a few weeks, but I’ve started organising my photographs, looking at them and deciding which ones are good enough for photo stock sites.’

  ‘That sounds great, said Torrie. ‘You seem to be making progress with that part of your life. How about fresh air and exercise? How did you get here today, for example?’

  ‘Taxi.’

  Torrie smiled at her. ‘And how far was that journey?’

  ‘About three minutes.’ Lissa shrugged. ‘In the past I would have walked it but, in the past, I wouldn’t have needed to be here. I wouldn’t need your help.’

  ‘How would you feel about taking a short walk in the street? Get Jenni to come with you. Could you manage that?’

  ‘I suppose I could give it a try. I was getting used to being outside again at the hospital and at home but Jenni’s place is a bit more, well more exposed I guess. I just feel a bit more at risk. Perhaps you’d like me to ask Mal to help me.’

  ‘Mal? Who’s Mal?’

  ‘Someone I met at the hospital. I thought he was one of your patients too. He did tell me his therapist was called Torrie as well. I met him in the waiting room at the beginning of the month and now he seems to have the appointment after mine. I almost thought you’d planted him there.’

  Torrie frowned. ‘Ah well,’ she said. ‘If he were a patient then I wouldn’t be able to confirm or deny. Anyway now that you’re here and settled into your new home, I want to talk about the plans for your continued improvement. Okay?’

  That sounds good,’ said Lissa. ‘I want to get better. I want my life back.’

  ‘Great, but one step at a time, hey?’ Torrie sat back in her chair and was pleased to see Lissa mirror the posture. Good, she thought, at least we are establishing some empathy.

  ‘First of all,’ she continued, ‘we will talk about what’s happening to you…’

  ‘Ah, talking therapy,’ said Lissa. ‘I’ve heard all about that.’

  ‘From Jenni?’

  Lissa nodded.

  ‘This will be slightly different because I want to help you learn tools and techniques to help you cope with intrusive thoughts, so if you have flashbacks or disturbing memories, you’ll react in one of three ways. That’s what we all do,’ said Torrie.

  ‘Three? I thought it was just fight or flight?’ said Lissa.

  ‘Yes, those are when the body experiences a burst of adrenaline. But there are also instances when we just freeze, the cliché of the rabbit in the headlights. Now that’s noradrenaline working. What I want to do is help you cope with those scenarios, should they occur, through the breathing exercises, but by talking about the thoughts and triggers, I would hope to lessen their impact on you.’

  ‘So the more I talk about them the less scary things become?’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Torrie. ‘What triggers can you think of right now which cause intrusive thoughts?’

  ‘None,’ said Lissa. ‘I c
an’t think of anything.’

  ‘How do you feel about cars hooting loudly?’

  Lissa stiffened in the chair, her elbows pushing against the sides. Torrie could see sweat forming on the younger woman’s brow.

  ‘So now breathe, in, two, three. Out, two, three. In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four.’

  Gradually Lissa began to relax and she glared at Torrie. ‘Oh, that was mean,’ she snapped. ‘You knew that would scare me. Why did you do it?’

  ‘I guessed that it had caused a panic attack before, but I want you to listen to car sounds here while we are together and you are in a relaxed state. Ultimately I want you to be able to face it and talk about it so that it doesn’t keep having that impact on you. None of this is going to be a quick fix. While you tuck the trauma away, we’re not treating it. This way we will address each trigger one at a time and during that time you need to keep taking the medication that Dr Jarman has prescribed for you. Or will you have a new GP now that you’ve moved into Clifton?’

  ‘No, Dr Jarman has agreed to keep me on his books, despite the distance.’ Lissa was still shaking. ‘How am I going to get better if I can’t even talk about something like a car... See, I can’t even say the word.’

  ‘And that’s one of the reasons that I’d like you to take a walk each day. The chances are that it is a sound you will hear, and it’s about learning to temper your reaction to it. Currently it’s a sound that makes you hyper-aroused. It startles most people, but for you that goes several steps further,’ replied Torrie. ‘How do you feel about taking a short walk each day. Start slow and build it up?’

  Lissa nodded. ‘Okay, I’ll give it a try,’ she said. ‘Same time next week?’