Dark Shadows

by Sibel Hodge

  When I’d been kidnapped by some brutal men, that had taken her personal guilt to a whole new level because she’d blamed herself again. But it was Mitchell she’d turned to in order to find me. Mitchell had rescued me. And in the aftermath, she’d barely wanted to let me out of her sight. It was only now, years after that horrific event, that she felt comfortable enough to let me go without being scared to death something would happen to me again.

  When I’d taken the associate counsellor job forty miles away from where we lived, she’d finally realised I had to fly the nest and start my own life without her looking over my shoulder. She’d also worked through her guilt and anger over Mitchell, and the enemy had become the saviour. He’d saved me, but he was also a lifeline to her, too. They’d both been through trauma no one should ever have to suffer, and together, they were healing each other. One thing I was certain of was that if it hadn’t been for Mitchell, I’d be dead. He’d been best friends with my dad, and they’d served together in the Regiment, risking their lives together, and even though Dad hadn’t returned from his tour of duty but Mitchell had, I loved him to bits. Mitchell had become the father I’d never had—an unofficial godfather—and I was ecstatic that he and Mum were now in a relationship. They both deserved happiness. And the last thing I wanted to do was spoil things for them with my own problems, so I just said, ‘Yeah, everything’s fine. I’m learning a lot. The whole team is really supportive. And I’ve got quite a few clients already.’

  ‘And how’s the flat? The security intercom on the front doors and your alarm are still working, aren’t they?’

  I smiled. ‘Yes, Mum.’ Bless her, she couldn’t help herself.

  ‘Because if they’re not, you need to report it straightaway.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I will do. How’s Mitchell?’

  ‘Oh, he’s fine, love. He’s doing the garden. He’s planting some flowers in the borders. You know he can’t keep still.’ She laughed.

  They were living together now. Mitchell had sold his own property the year before, and they’d bought a new house as a couple. Since then, he’d thrown himself into decorating and sprucing up the garden, hoping to put their own signature on the place. I smiled as I thought of the solidly built ex-elite special forces soldier on his hands and knees, planting daisies in the garden.

  ‘He says hi, by the way,’ Mum said.

  ‘Say hi back.’

  ‘Maybe you can come up for the weekend? It’s supposed to be a scorcher. We could do a BBQ.’

  ‘Yeah, um… maybe.’ I glanced through the glass doors into A&E. I couldn’t go off and have fun until I knew Marcelina would be okay. ‘Can I call you later?’

  ‘Yeah, of course. Love you.’

  ‘Love you, too.’ I hung up and stepped back into the waiting room.

  The air was muggy with a strong stench of stale sweat. My throat was dry, and I had the beginnings of a headache behind my right temple, most likely an effect of the adrenaline that had long since worn off. There was a vending machine in the corridor, so I bought a bottle of water and drank thirstily. I’d just deposited the empty bottle in a bin when I heard my name being called from behind.

  I swung around and saw a female doctor in a white coat striding down the corridor. ‘I’m Toni,’ I told her.

  She stopped in front of me. ‘Hello, I’m Dr Fellows. I’m treating Marcelina Claybourn.’

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘You’re with the university?’

  ‘Yes.’ I showed her my uni ID card and explained again how Marcelina had no family here yet and that I was her counsellor. I tried to sound professional and assured, but I could hear the slight tremor in my voice.

  ‘Did you leave her next-of-kin details with reception?’

  ‘Yes. My boss was going to inform her parents of what’s happened.’

  ‘Okay, good. Well, her minor injuries consist of a broken leg and quite a bit of bruising. But she also suffered a head injury. She’s unconscious, and we think there’s some swelling in her brain. We’re just waiting for her to have some scans before we’ll be able to ascertain more.’

  ‘When I saw her earlier, she mentioned some episodes where she’d had what sounded like blackouts. She described it as lost time.’ I gave her the examples Marcelina had told me. I didn’t feel as if I was breaking patient confidentiality, because it might be pertinent to her treatment.

  ‘Thanks for letting me know. I’ll add that to her notes.’

  ‘Can I just go and see her quickly?’

  Dr Fellows pursed her lips, hesitating for a moment, then said, ‘I don’t see why not. But just for a few minutes.’ She guided the way along a corridor. ‘It looks like she—’ Dr Fellows was interrupted by her name being called from behind.

  We both turned around.

  ‘Appendicitis, suspected rupture,’ a paramedic called out, striding alongside a trolley. A boy on it was howling and doubled over in pain.

  Dr Fellows pointed further along the corridor and said to me, ‘Marcelina’s in trauma room one. Up there.’ She diverted her attention to the child and paramedic and told them to use trauma room three, before disappearing with them into a private room to our right.

  As I walked up the corridor, I found an open bay of beds, some with patients fully clothed and conscious on them, some with curtains around them. Trauma room one was a private room on the opposite side.

  An alarm sounded from somewhere. Raised voices with shouts of ‘We need a resus trolley!’ rang out. Nurses appeared from one room and hurried to where the shouts for assistance were coming from.

  I paused outside Marcelina’s room. The door was open, but curtains had been pulled around the bed area so I couldn’t see her. I entered the room as a male doctor in a white coat stepped out from behind the curtain.

  ‘Dr Fellows said it was okay for me to see her for a minute,’ I said. ‘Are you treating Marcelina, as well?’

  ‘I’m Dr Lahey, consultant neurosurgeon.’ He moved away from the bed, sliding his hands into the pockets of his white lab coat with a grave expression on his face.

  ‘How’s she doing?’

  ‘It’s too early to say, I’m afraid. We’re monitoring her carefully. Are you a relative?’

  By now, I almost wished I had it tattooed on my forehead. ‘No, I’m her student counsellor at St Albans University.’

  ‘Right.’ He nodded. ‘Well, she’s in good hands. We’re going to do everything we can for her. Don’t stay too long, okay?’ He slipped out of the room.

  I moved towards the curtain and pulled it aside. Marcelina lay on her left side, a blanket covering her body. A gauze pad was taped to the wound on her forehead, just above her hairline. She had a small cut about one centimetre long on the back of her neck, oozing fresh blood that was dotted on the pillow, some cuts on her face, and a lot of swelling and abrasions on her arms and hands. Her skin was pale, her short blonde hair making her look even more deathly white. The ventilator and various other machines she was hooked up to emitted steady beeping sounds with numbers flashing on a screen.

  I walked around to the right side of the bed so I could face her. Her right arm was outside the blanket; an IV drip connected to her vein with a cannula. I gently took hold of her hand. It felt cold and weightless in mine. She looked like a broken bird.

  ‘Marcelina? Can you hear me?’

  She didn’t respond. I fought the tears threatening to form and swallowed the lump in my throat as I carried on talking to her. Hopefully, she could hear me somewhere in there. Hopefully, she’d know there was someone who cared about her and that she wasn’t alone.

  A little while later, Dr Fellows came in the room and pulled the curtain back. She looked at Marcelina then looked at me with a concerned frown furrowing her brow. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘She’s supposed to be on her back. Did you move her?’ Her voice was sharp, the frown deepening as she carefully turned Marcelina so she was lying on her back. ‘All her t
ubes will be compromised if she’s on her side, plus, it’s not a good position for her to be in with her injuries.’ Dr Fellows checked the monitors attached to the tubes. Pressed a button on one of the machines. ‘Everything seems okay. But…’ She looked back at me, the frown now morphed into a suspicious glare. ‘I doubt she could’ve turned over on her own. She’s heavily sedated.’

  My eyes widened. ‘All I did was hold her hand. She was like this when I came in.’

  Her eyes narrowed, as if she didn’t believe me.

  ‘Maybe the other doctor moved her,’ I said.

  ‘Which doctor?’

  ‘The one who was in here when I arrived. Dr Lahey.’

  She picked up the chart hanging off the end of Marcelina’s bed and flicked through some pages, shaking her head. Looking puzzled, she muttered to herself about consultants not bothering to record their visits. I glanced at the chart as she wrote down that Dr Lahey had attended.

  Then she said, ‘She’s going for her scans in a minute, so you’ll need to leave now.’

  I let myself out of the room, sending up a silent prayer that whatever happened next for Marcelina would be good news.

  Chapter 15

  Detective Becky Harris

  Before I headed to the bar, all I had time for was a quick change of clothes and a hair-taming routine that lasted longer than I usually subjected myself to. No matter what I did, my crazy waves had a mind of their own.

  I undid my ponytail and tousled my hair with lots of product until it resembled something slightly better than a nest of rats’ tails. The waves had gone straggly, and my split ends needed a serious trim, but I never could stand wasting time in a hair salon.

  When packing to come here, I’d been stressing about what to wear. Most of my clothes were either work suits or casual stuff. In the end, I’d decided to be as generic as possible, so I dressed in a vest top, skinny cut-off jeans, and a pair of flip-flops, before slapping on a bit of lipstick, which was the usual extent of my makeup repertoire.

  It was hot and humid as I stepped outside the accommodation block and walked to the union. There were plenty of students around, and I said hi to a few as I walked past. So far, everyone except Shakia had been really friendly. What she’d done, filming Vicky in the kitchen, was bullying. I wouldn’t put it past her to have shown the video to many other people, either. Had Vicky found out and been embarrassed and upset to the point of killing herself because of it? That was possible. Sometimes it was the smaller things that triggered people to finally snap.

  The terrace where I’d sat earlier for lunch was heaving with students. Most of the tables were full, and people sat on the grassy area nearby, nursing drinks. Laughter and chatter rang out as I approached the picnic tables, looking for Jess and Millie. A few people caught my eye and either smiled, looked away, or checked me out. I spotted the guy who’d given me the active-student classes flyer earlier sitting cross-legged in a cluster of people, looking fit and sexy. He saw me watching, waved, and grinned at me. I grinned back and felt a fleeting feeling of excitement as a hot flush crept up my neck. I hadn’t been on a date with anyone since I’d split up with Ian. Just the thought of it scared the crap out of me. But now I was here, having very naughty reactions to a student. God, I must be bloody hormonal. Or it was the hot weather. Even though I was only about ten years older than these people, I felt a lifetime older. I’d seen too much horror in my career.

  I found Jess and Millie at one of the tables and walked over.

  ‘Oh, hey, you came. Cool,’ Jess said. ‘The band’s really good, but they don’t start till nine.’

  ‘Great. I’m going to the bar. Anyone want a top-up?’ I pointed to their glasses.

  ‘Vodka and Diet Coke for me, please.’ Millie wiggled her glass in the air.

  ‘Bottle of Kopparberg, thanks. Any flavour,’ Jess said.

  ‘Be right back.’ I headed past the crowded tables to the inside bar area, which was more or less empty. A guy in his early twenties with tattooed arms stood behind the bar, serving a couple of girls. He sauntered over when he’d finished.

  ‘Hi, what can I get you?’

  I gave him the girls’ orders and got a lime and soda for myself. I had to keep a clear head, so there would be little or no alcohol for me. As he was sorting out my drinks, I asked him if he knew of any work going behind the bar or anywhere else that paid cash in hand, but he just shrugged and said no as he put the drinks on the bar in front of me.

  I handed over some money and was pleasantly surprised to get a decent amount of change. Subsidised drinks, a student’s dream.

  I headed back outside and sat down at the table. Jess and Millie were talking about the lecture I’d been in earlier.

  ‘What do you think, Becky?’ Millie asked.

  ‘About what?’ I asked.

  ‘Thomas Hardy. “The Darkling Thrush”. Creating sadness through imagery.’

  ‘Uh…’ I trailed off, searching around in my brain for something studenty to say and coming up empty. I wasn’t a big reader in my real life. I didn’t have time for it. When I wasn’t at work, I was sleeping, especially after my promotion to DS and the big cases I’d handled recently. Probably the last time I’d read a book was on my honeymoon with Ian, and that had been Bridget Jones’s Diary, hardly on a par with the required reading for an English literature course.

  ‘Me and Millie are having an argument about the second stanza. What do you think of it?’ Jess rolled her eyes in a good-natured way. ‘“The Century’s corpse outleant, His crypt the cloudy canopy, The wind his death-lament”.’

  I tilted my head, wondering what to say. ‘I think I preferred “We will destroy Gotham. And then, when it is done and Gotham is ashes… then you have my permission to die”.’

  Jess and Millie gave me a confused frown.

  I grinned. ‘It’s from the film The Dark Knight Rises. Tom Hardy.’

  ‘Ha ha.’ Jess pointed the neck of her cider bottle at me with a grin. ‘Funny.’ She raised it in the air. ‘Here’s to Thomas and Tom Hardy.’

  Millie chinked her glass against Jess’s bottle, and I did the same.

  Jess leaned over the table and whispered to Millie, ‘Oh my God, don’t look now, but Curtis is over there.’

  Millie ran her hands through her hair to make sure it looked perfect then licked her lips. ‘Where?’

  Jess angled her head to the left.

  Millie tried to do a surreptitious glance over, but it looked obvious to me. ‘He’s so peng,’ she whispered back.

  I didn’t even have a clue what that meant, but by the look on her face, it was obviously good. I glanced over at who they were looking at. It was the mixed-race guy I’d been admiring before, now deep in earnest conversation with a group of friends.

  ‘Why don’t we go to the HIIT class tomorrow?’ Millie said. ‘He’s always there.’

  ‘What time’s it on?’ Jess asked.

  ‘Eleven.’

  ‘Can’t. Got a lecture, remember?’ Jess said.

  Millie pouted. ‘Yawn. He could HIIT me up any day.’ She cackled drunkenly, and I wondered how long they’d been there before I arrived. Still, it worked in my favour. Drunk people had loose tongues.

  Curtis looked over and caught us watching.

  ‘Oh, shite, he saw us.’ Millie giggled, and we all looked away.

  ‘Why don’t you go and talk to him?’ I asked.

  She shook her head. ‘No way. I’m too embarrassed.’

  The angst of teenage love. I remembered it well. But the angst wasn’t just reserved for youngsters. After my on-off marriage with Ian had hit the rocks for the final time, I’d been feeling really down. Opposing thoughts knocked around in my brain, either worrying I’d never meet anyone else again, or worrying that I would and it would end with a repeat disaster. I shook my thoughts away. This investigation was helping to keep my mind firmly off Ian and my new single status, and I wanted it to stay that way, thank you very much.

  I tried to work o
ut how to get Natalie back into the conversation. Since they’d mentioned seeing her with someone who was a professor or tutor, I said, ‘Curtis is a bit too young for me. I’ve actually got a thing for older guys.’

  ‘Urgh!’ Millie groaned. ‘How old?’

  I shrugged and laughed. ‘This might sound weird, but I’ve got a thing for grey hair. Maybe I’ve got a bit of a tutor fantasy going on.’

  Jess looked at me like I was mad. ‘I think Natalie did, too.’

  ‘Oh, yeah, you said you thought she was seeing someone older, didn’t you?’ I said casually then took a sip of my drink. I swallowed then waited.

  ‘He was a tutor,’ Jess whispered. ‘When I asked her who it was I’d seen her with, she said he was called Professor… what was it?’ She waved her hand in the air as she thought. ‘Cain! That was it, I think. Professor Cain.’ She raised her eyebrows and wiggled them suggestively. ‘She swore nothing was going on between them, though, but she looked all embarrassed about us spotting her with him.’

  ‘Do you know what subject he teaches?’ I asked.

  They both shrugged.

  Tutors and students having relationships happened all the time, the whole world over. But if Natalie was secretly seeing someone, what other secrets had she kept from her friends? I noted the name in my head and then turned the conversation in a new direction. ‘Before I got here, I was reading about some weird cults and societies that have hazing rituals in unis. They don’t have anything like that here, do they?’

  Millie’s lips parted with surprise. ‘Not that I know of. You mean like initiation ceremonies and all that? That’s more like from America, isn’t it? Sororities and fraternities and stuff?’

  ‘You mean a cult like that Waco thingy?’ Jess asked me.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Apparently, there are quite a few in the UK. And they like preying on students.’

  ‘Seriously?’ Jess shuddered. ‘I thought that was just an American thing, too. Sounds freaky.’