Hidden

by Derick Parsons

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The next morning Kate opened her eyes and stared at the white ceiling above her bed, dully noting that it was long past time she had the place decorated; the paint was starting to crack and peel. Idle thoughts concerning colours drifted through her mind as she hauled herself out of bed and pulled on a robe; she even started contemplating various types of wallpaper. After all, almost anything was better than thinking about the mess she had made of her life. She shook herself and sighed, wondering vaguely if she were losing her mind. She walked barefoot from her bedroom, heading quietly for the bathroom and hoping that Peter would still be asleep, and would remain asleep until she had left the flat. Fat chance; the sofa was empty and faint sounds from the kitchen alerted her to his presence there. Just her luck that one of the heaviest sleepers on the face of the Earth should suddenly start rising with the lark, solely because she did not want to see him.

  She went into the bathroom, showered, and began readying herself for the day, all the time aware of a dull heaviness in her head that vaguely reminded her of weather forecasts. With random thoughts running through her mind about v-shaped depressions, localized in her apartment, she returned to her bedroom and dressed in one of her work suits; a severe, charcoal-gray jacket and skirt combination that matched her bleak mood perfectly.

  Kate sat before her vanity mirror and began putting on the light touches of make-up that were all she allowed herself during the day, but then stopped and laid down her mascara brush. She stared at herself in the mirror, thinking angrily; What the hell are you doing? Why do you insist on fouling everything up every time you have a chance of happiness? What kind of masochist are you? Or perhaps sadist would be more accurate, since it generally seemed to be Peter she ended up hurting.

  There was no answer to that. Or at least, no answer she cared to search for. She stared at herself for a long minute before making a rueful face at the mirror; at least she no longer needed to worry about getting fat. Quite the opposite, in fact; her cheekbones and jaw-line were more accentuated than ever. But not in an elegant, super-model way; rather she was starting to look ill.

  You love him, you idiot, don’t you? And always have. You love Peter and just won’t admit it?

  Kate sighed; of course she did. She always had, and even a dedicated dodger of self-truth like her could deny it for only so long. But then, love had never been the real problem between them; her fear of commitment, of truly and irrevocably giving herself to another, was the problem. Jesus, she could never even say the words ‘I love you’! Not to anyone. She had always found it hard to express her emotions, but then, Peter had never seemed to need to hear the words. He might have liked to hear them, but he didn’t need to. Not the way she needed reassurance from him. She shut her eyes briefly; the more she thought about their relationship the more she realised just how much Peter had given, and just how little he had asked. And badly though it might reflect on her, even this was better than thinking about why she continually ran from her own feelings.

  Kate lowered her tear-filled eyes; was her chance of a life with Peter just one more of the many things her father had stolen from her, along with her innocence and her childhood and her trust in people? In spite of all her knowledge and education? In spite of her experience? She was supposed to be a trauma therapist, for God’s sake, this was just the sort of problem she was trained to help people overcome. Tears that should have been shed years before welled up in her eyes but, as ever, she forced them back, refusing to even think about what had been done to her.

  ‘Physician, heal thyself,’ she muttered aloud, getting up to go into the kitchen and face him, possibly for the last time. Heal thyself, God, if only it were that simple.

  Peter was sitting at the little table drinking coffee, and when Kate entered the room be gave her a quick glance from under lowered brows before nodding towards the cooker and saying, in a neutral tone, ‘Kettle’s just boiled if you want a cuppa.’

  Kate forced a smile in his direction without actually looking at him and busied herself making a cup of Nescafe. For once regretting the speed with which instant coffee was prepared she added milk and sugar and sat down at the table, knowing that she had to face him sooner or later. Later sounded much better to her right now but it would be as well to get this over with. Perhaps once and for all.

  He was looking at her calmly and, in contrast to how she felt, looked fresh and well- rested, causing her a momentary stab of irritation; why didn’t he look tired and drained and wretched? Where were his red, bag-laden eyes? She forced such nonsense from her mind and silently sipped her coffee, waiting. But he simply sat there without saying a word either so at last she was forced to break the pregnant pause by saying, slightly caustically, ‘Can I assume you won’t be here when I get home tonight?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ He hesitated, ‘I don’t think it would be a good idea, do you?’

  Kate shrugged and said lightly, ‘In that case I won’t give you a key.’

  Peter’s face tightened and anger flashed in his eyes, giving her heart a momentary lift of illogical pleasure.

  ‘Do you intend to stay here alone?’

  Kate shrugged again, ‘What’s it to you?’

  His voice rose slightly as he said harshly, ‘Stop playing games! You know I won’t leave you here alone! Not so long as you’re in danger!’

  Her heart was pounding for no good reason and she lowered her eyes to prevent him reading their expression. ‘I’ll be fine. I can survive without you, you know.’

  ‘Evidently,’ he replied dryly, and with just a hint of bitterness, ‘But this isn’t a game, okay? Someone threatened to kill you. He has your phone number already and with all the media attention this place won’t be too hard to find. So you either stay with friends or family, or I stay right here with you. And that’s the end of it.’

  Kate felt like crying, but instead she said, as sarcastically as possible, ‘Well, I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble so don’t worry, I’ll make alternative arrangements.’

  ‘Promise me, Kate,’ he said evenly, his dark eyes boring into hers, ‘All bullshit aside. You know I won’t leave you here alone so promise me you’ll stay somewhere else.’

  She couldn’t meet his gaze with eyes that were suddenly full of tears so she fixed them on the table and said softly, ‘Okay, fine, I promise.’ Her voice wasn’t quite steady but he didn’t seem to notice, and a deafening silence descended. After a minute or so he said heavily, ‘I’d better get going.’

  He stood up and Kate said, in a small voice she didn’t much care for but seemed unable to help, ‘Are you going back to England? Soon, I mean?’

  He pursed his lips, ‘I’m not sure. Not today, at any rate.’ He gently touched her shoulder, ‘I’ll talk to you later.’

  Kate nodded, that light touch sending a shiver through her entire body that left her shaking. Left her wanting to call out to him, to stop him from leaving. To beg him, if necessary. But she remained silent, and as he walked out of the apartment a single tear rolled down her cheek. One was all she would allow herself. She took a deep breath and noisily finished off her coffee, cutting off the tears before they could take a hold. She slammed down her cup and got to her feet; she had too much to do to sit around all day moping about what could have been.

  She rang the hospital, giving her day a much-needed boost by hearing that Sean Morrison was not only sitting up and talking, but was in fact already grumbling vaguely about being allowed to go home. Best of all, he would be allowed visitors the next day, meaning she would be able to thank him in person for possibly saving her life. Indeed, judging by the phone call she’d had the night before, almost certainly saving her life.

  Somewhat cheered by this news she rang Mullins, and her day received another boost by her catching him in. His flat, impersonal tone steadied her jangling nerves and she said calmly, ‘Inspector Mullins? Kate Bennett here. Did you get my message?’

  ‘I did,’ he said heavily, ‘Thoug
h I could hardly believe it. After this phone call it now seems obvious that someone with a grudge is after you personally. So we’re back to square one. And question one; namely, who would want to kill you? I’ve already checked on our friends Meagher and Straub, and both are safely locked up where they’re supposed to be, and will be for years. So who else have you got?’

  ‘I told you, I haven’t the faintest idea,’ said Kate glumly. It wasn’t news to her that Straub was still in Broadmoor; if there was ever the slightest chance of him getting out one of her old friends from the Thames Valley police would have been on the phone like a shot to warn her. And Sean had told her about Meagher being in prison. ‘I don’t have any other enemies, and Grainne Riordan is the only patient I’ve had in years. The attack must be connected to Grainne but I have no idea how, or who could have done it. Unless someone has it in for her. Did you hear about the fire in Deacon House last night?’

  ‘Yes, it’s no secret around here that she’s my pigeon, so one of the boys filled me in first thing. I rang the fire investigator and he says it’s definitely arson so we’re making inquiries. Not me personally, you understand; the local Garda are dealing with it. And I don’t envy them one little bit.’

  Kate frowned, ‘What do you mean?’

  Mullins gave a little bark of humourless laughter, ‘Deacon House currently has sixty-three inmates, Miss Bennett, all of them disturbed to one extent or another. Detectives from Lucan are dealing with it and according to them security out there is a joke. And the list of ex-patients must run into the hundreds, if not thousands. The list of suspects is almost endless. And even if they find out who did it they can’t very well arrest them, can they? Not if they’re mentally incapable.’

  ‘Are you joking me?’ asked Kate angrily, ‘You can’t really think an inmate did it? Grainne’s ex-pusher is paid to burgle my flat and is subsequently murdered. Then I am attacked in my office, to say nothing of last night’s threatening phone call. Then there’s a fire in the mental home where she’s resident. Don’t you think all these things are connected?’

  ‘Did I give you the impression I was stupid, Miss Bennett?’ asked Mullins coldly, ‘Don’t you think I’m aware that there may be a connection? But the key word here is may. Because right now I don’t see any link between all those events. Do you?’

  ‘No,’ admitted Kate reluctantly, ‘and God knows I’ve racked my brains to come up with one. The only explanation is that there’s something in Grainne Riordan’s past that has someone scared. But I have no idea what it is, or who’s behind it all.’

  Mullins sighed and said more naturally, ‘Me either. But I’ll be looking, I assure you.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Sergeant, I meant no offense and I certainly don’t think you’re stupid. I’m just frustrated that I can’t see the connection myself.’

  ‘None taken. Though it might be if you call me Sergeant again. It’s Inspector. But seriously, I’m not Sherlock Holmes and I need evidence to solve crimes. What I don’t do is spin elaborate theories linking possibly unrelated...’

  ‘These events are all related,’ interrupted Kate positively, ‘They have to be.’

  ‘Not until I see some evidence they aren’t, though privately I think you’re right Privately; officially they’re still unrelated events, and likely to remain that way. The only link between all those things, including now two fires, is the Riordan girl, but your friend Jordan won’t let me question her, even though no charges could be brought against her in view of her mental health.’

  ‘I should think he won’t!’ said Kate indignantly, ‘The girl is a psychiatric patient, vulnerable and fragile. Being interrogated by you could destroy any chance we have of ever restoring her to full mental health.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Mullins dryly, ‘I’m touched by your faith in my tact. Not to mention my humanity. But the point is that I’m as aware as you that Grainne is the key to whoever is behind all this. But if I can’t talk to her, I can’t find out what it is. So don’t talk to me about frustration.’

  ‘I see your point.’ Kate was silent for some time but then said, reluctantly, ‘The next time I see her I’ll mention the fire, but I won’t question her in depth about it; that might be counter-productive. No charges can be brought against her, anyway, as you pointed out, but I’m curious to find out if she did it. Because if she didn’t, the question is who did. And why. So if I discover anything important I’ll let you know.’

  ‘I’d appreciate that, Kate,’ said Mullins, with more warmth than he had evinced to date, ‘but see that you do, for her sake; that fire might have been intended to kill her. Our mysterious malefactor might have given up trying to find out what Grainne’s been saying about him to you lot, and decided to shut her up for good.’

  Kate thought for a moment before saying, ‘People have patterns of behaviour that tend to repeat themselves; suppose both fires were attempts to murder Grainne? What if she didn’t burn down her parents’ house? She’s evinced a lot of guilt over her mother’s death, but that could be because her mother died because someone was trying to kill her. In her current state that would cause as much guilt as if she’d actually killed her mother herself.’

  ‘The Oxford police must have loved you,’ said Mullins dryly, ‘Or is it just the Irish police you think so little of? We didn’t just seize on Grainne as the only possible suspect, you know, and then go home to bed. Believe me, we conducted a thorough investigation but we couldn’t find any trace that anyone else started the fire, or was even in the house with the two of them that night.’

  This silenced Kate for a moment, then she said, ‘If your ‘malefactor’ only knew it he could rest easy; there’s nothing in the file. Did you collect your copy from the porter at Trinity, by the way?’

  ‘Yes, first thing this morning. And a fat lot of good it is. I’ve only had time for a quick run-through but as far as I can see it leads precisely nowhere.’

  Kate gave a humourless bark of laughter, ‘I told you so. And believe me, I’ve been over it half-a-dozen times. But I suppose whoever paid Jimmy Shiels to steal it wasn’t to know that we wouldn’t find... shit, whatever it is.’

  ‘Shit is right,’ he sighed, ‘Alright, well, if you dig up anything let me know.’

  ‘I will, Inspector. And thanks.’ Kate hung up and went to get her coat. It was almost ten and she was impatient to get out to Deacon House, both to talk to Trevor Jordan and to see Grainne. The unfortunate girl was sure to be in a fearful state, whether or not she had started the fire. And considering the way her mother had died it might actually be less upsetting for her if she had started it herself.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  As she pulled into the car-park at Deacon House Kate examined the building with a critical eye. From the outside at least it looked unmarked, and Kate was pleased that its graceful, gracious lines had not been marred by the fire. She locked her car and made her way inside the building, where once again no signs of the previous night’s drama were in evidence; evidently the fire had been nowhere near as serious as she had feared. She approached the reception desk and said with a smile, ‘Hi, Cathy, is Trevor here?’

  The younger woman nodded, ‘In his office. I have to warn you, though, he’s very tired and cranky after what happened last night.’

  Kate shook her head in disbelief, ‘I couldn’t believe it when I heard. I take it you weren’t here?’

  Cathy shook her head vehemently and with evident relief, her short, silvery blonde hair flying, ‘I never work nights. Actually, I only got here at nine and the excitement was long over by then, but Dr. Jordan’s been here all night.’ And she added feelingly, ‘And it shows.’

  Kate had experienced Trevor’s rare but white-hot tempers before, and gave her a sympathetic smile before walking across to knock on his door. In response to his shouted invitation she went inside and said, ‘Morning, Trevor.’

  He did indeed look tired and red of eye but there was no sign of ill temper as he smiled and got to his feet,
‘Hi, Kate. It’s good of you to come in so early. And I’m sorry for ringing in the middle of the night like that. I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I was so shocked and upset that I wasn’t thinking at all.’

  She shook her head in brisk dismissal, ‘Forget it. Of course I’d want to know about something like that, whatever the time. How’s Grainne?’

  He nodded tiredly, ‘Okay. I think. One good thing about all this is that she asked about you this morning, asked if you were coming to see her.’

  ‘She asked for me by name?’ asked Kate with flush of sudden excitement.

  He smiled, ‘Well, what she actually said was “I suppose that nosy bitch will be coming to interrogate me about the fire?”. Is that a good sign or bad, do you think?’

  Kate beamed at him, instantly restored to good-humour, ‘No, it’s a great sign! She may be ready to start talking to me. Really talking, I mean, rather than just venting whatever’s on her mind when I happen to be there.’

  ‘Maybe,’ he replied, stifling a yawn, ‘Don’t get your hopes up, though.’

  She waved her hand dismissively, ‘Hope is what keeps us alive, Trev, it’s what keeps us humans going. And I know all about false dawns, believe me. But never mind all that now; tell me exactly what happened here last night.’

  ‘Well, we’re not too sure exactly what happened. A fire broke out on the second floor about two, but luckily the sprinkler system kept it under control until the fire brigade got here and sorted it out.’