by Tara Lyons
Just a little patience.
Patience can make you a winner. The cops will be running all over the place now looking for me and her — their super computer genius. Whatever will they do without her? They’ll fuck up by underestimating me. Patience is a quality. A quality I mastered a long time ago — with no room for compassion. That’s not my style.
Have another drink. Have another drink.
I love the trail of fire the vodka leaves, coursing from my throat to my stomach. I can literally feel it scorching my insides, reminding me I’m alive. Sit up. Don’t huddle in the corner. Own this stage and take the lead role once again. Own the role forever.
Perhaps Manor Hall had been a blessing after all. I mean, without that place I would never have found him again or had Doctor Emine shine her knowledge on me. A cruel past met a bright future and it woke something deep inside me.
That bitch in the coffin almost drowned me under Grace’s weak and remorseful confusion. I very nearly lost myself, thanks to DETECTIVE SERGEANT KERRY FRASER!
Calm down. Have another drink. Have another drink.
It’s time to stand tall again. I feel invincible. I feel stronger. Despite every bad thing, the limelight is calling me.
I felt as though I was underwater, struggling to reach the surface and gulp in the fresh air. Every single time I tried, my lungs were filled with salty sea water. But during the hospital treatments with Emine I gained so much help and guidance. She’s taught me so much about myself. About who Carly really is.
I had prayed that Emine wouldn’t be working a shift last night. And my prayers were answered. The doctor would have sussed my plan and tried to stop me. She’s an impressive woman: smart, independent, sassy. These are the types of women that vulnerable teenagers need in their lives to look up to … to call out to for help. I wouldn’t have wanted to hurt the doc, but no doubt I would have done what I needed to do. Just as I had to silence Maria Lee last year. A few weeks with Grace was all it took for Maria to uncover the truth and, therefore, she knew too much.
Emine helped me in a way that Maria couldn’t help Grace.
Funnily enough, the urge to silence those who know too much, or frankly just kill the wankers who don’t deserve the life they’ve been given, is no longer my ultimate goal. Not now I’ve ended his life. But the urge to pierce the tip of a cold blade into the heart of someone who’s wronged me … well, I can’t completely deny that urge has been extinguished.
Have another drink. Have another drink.
I can’t let my thoughts get diluted. I can’t be drowned ever again. You see, I’m not as weak as Grace. Yes, the fury still burns in me, as real as the fiery liquid mapping its way through my body. There will be further suffering, that fact is inevitable.
I hate myself.
Everything is supposed to be better now.
Why am I still in the darkness? She assured me, for so long, that this act would guide me out of the shadows and I wouldn’t be a stranger to the world any more.
I’m back in the corner. Lying on the floor and pounding it with my fists this time. It’s all flooding back, the waves of pain and fear are smashing against the rocks of rage and threatening to rise above them, take the control away from me.
The escape had been a victory after months of planning and endurance, but it had come at a price. The worst. I can’t stop the bile rising from my stomach. I let myself rock back and forth … back and forth … back and forth. It’s quieter when I do.
For fuck’s sake, now you do look like you should be in a mental home.
Okay, I need to breathe. Calming breaths. Deep breaths. Just like during my sessions with Emine. Even she didn’t notice the change. Just breathe.
Keep your shit together and you might just pull this off.
11
‘We need to be out there looking for her,’ Rocky demanded, and Hamilton wondered if the constable’s agitation was born more from guilt than fear … a feeling he himself had been battling with since reading the note.
‘And we will, but we need to do this first, just as we do at the beginning of every investigation.’
‘But this isn’t a norm—’
Hamilton raised a hand. ‘I get it, Rocky. Now, looking at the timeline of events we know Grace Murphy escaped from the prison just after midnight. Clever to use the fire alarm, it brought her some time while the snoozing security team ran around with their heads stuck up their arses.’
‘Who was the security guard in Murphy's room? And why was he there?’ Clarke asked.
‘Gabe Hardy,’ Dixon said, writing the victim’s name on the white board. ‘From what Doctor Inamdar told me, once the patients were locked in their rooms at night, there was no need for the night-time security staff to open the door, unless—’
‘Unless they thought a patient was in danger,’ Clarke finished her sentence.
Dixon nodded. ‘However, if that was the case, the protocol would be to radio through to inform a colleague of the door opening.’
‘The doors weren’t centrally locked?’ Rocky asked with a frown.
‘No,’ Hamilton grunted. ‘This place isn’t like a prison. Apparently, this hospital is all about rehabilitation without the “barbed wire and tight security”, or so I’m told.’
Dixon smirked. ‘Yes, well, anyway … all members of staff are in the process are being interviewed. The ones on duty — who were still in the building — first, so hopefully we’ll get more of an idea about specifics from them soon.’
‘Back to the timeline,’ Hamilton said. ‘Due to the commotion and head counts, our local officers weren’t informed of the escape or even the damn murder until about 2am.’
Rocky pounded the table. ‘And then the instruction to come here first put us back even further.’
Hamilton nodded. He agreed with the chief’s reasoning for a briefing, what with Grace Murphy being his team’s arrest last year and the subsequent background information the station needed as a whole — a media blackout had also needed to be put in place — but he also felt Rocky’s anger at the set-back it had caused.
‘Yes, if we’d known sooner that Fraser had visited the hospital, we could have possibly intercepted the kidnapping. However, what we do know is the window of time we’re working with, and thankfully, that’s not a very large window.’
‘But Murphy is a step ahead of us,’ Rocky continued. ‘Even if we only missed her taking Kerry by one hour, we don’t know where she’s gone.’ Rocky’s voice hitched at the end, his Irish accent broader than ever.
Hamilton’s head and heart pulled him in polar opposite directions. Rocky’s emotions burst to the surface, referring to his colleague by her first name, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the new constable would be able to cope with the uncertainty that lay ahead of them all. Those same regretful sentiments filled his chest, but he knew the only way to save Fraser was to push them down and ignore them. For now, at least.
‘Yes, Murphy is ahead of us, but only one step. We can catch up. The question is …’ Hamilton paused. ‘Can you keep it together?’
Rocky looked away and sighed. While Clarke and Dixon nodded — a look of pure determination and strength on their faces and in their body language — Hamilton was pleased they had assumed he was questioning them all. Rocky finally looked him square in the eyes, puffed out his chest and nodded silently.
‘Okay, here’s where I want us to start.’ An invisible kick of purpose had Hamilton on his feet. ‘Dixon, get round to the mother’s address—’
‘Surely Murphy wouldn’t be stupid enough to go home,’ she interrupted.
‘No, I wouldn't think so, but can we be so sure? Also, the mother and daughter were close, so I want to know why Valerie hasn’t visited the hospital in the past five months. Try and use your motherly instincts to get her to open up to you. Plus, we need to have a chat with that solicitor friend of Murphy’s …’ He clicked his fingers. ‘… Natasha Holten.’
‘Where are you headed?’ Clark
e asked.
‘I want a have a chat with Audrey Gibson … she was due to meet Fraser Friday night. I want to know what happened.’
‘Guv, I’d like to question the friend personally, rather than uniform,’ said Clarke. ‘She’s another person in Murphy’s life who hasn’t bothered to give her the time of day. I think there could be something more to this … maybe we can work out her plan.’
Hamilton pursed his lips and considered Clarke’s request. He had to admit, the lack of visitors to Manor Hall Hospital since Fraser’s recorded visit was strange, and perhaps Murphy had let something slip about her intentions. His partner could be on to something here, he thought. ‘Okay, but bring a PC with you. You too, Dixon.’
He looked at Rocky, and for a moment, his heart went out to him. Had they, together, allowed Fraser’s kidnapping to happen? His mind raced with scenarios of telling Fraser, and even the rest of the team, about the suspicions they’d had of her missing cat and possible stalker. If they’d spoken out on Friday, not leaving yet another thing to wait until after the weekend, would Fraser be safe now?
‘Rocky, I need you to hang back in the office and work on the computer.’
The corner of the constable’s lip twitched upwards. ‘Big shoes to fill, guv.’
‘I know, but SOCO confirmed Fraser’s car was not at her home address. Therefore, I’m inclined to believe that's how Murphy got off with our girl …’ He paused to clear his throat. ‘Check any and all ANPR cameras in the area surrounding Fraser’s home and find that car. If we can at least narrow down their direction of travel, we might just make it impossible for that woman to stay a step ahead of us.’
At the mortuary, Hamilton glared at the clock on the office wall. Midday … on Saturday, he thought, almost needing to realign his bearings. He should be with Elizabeth, deciding if they’d brave the rain and head out for a pub lunch, or just cook for themselves and snuggle up on the sofa watching a film. He regretted not leaving her a note to find this morning, but his wife of over twenty years was no stranger to waking up to an empty bed.
He drummed his fingers on Audrey’s desk, silently praying the post-mortem would end soon — and not for reasons about wanting to know more about the dead, like he usually did.
Audrey breezed into the room, loose flame-red curls bouncing around her shoulders, and launched a beige folder on the table. She slid into the chair opposite Hamilton and her brown eyes met his.
‘Gabriel Hardy—’
‘Yes, we know," Hamilton cut her off, immediately regretting his snappy tone but struggling to curve his lips into a smile. ‘I mean, Manor Hall informed us of his identity … well, they called him Gabe. I’ve got officers contacting his next of kin.’
‘Sounds like a cool nickname. I guess Gabriel is a bit old-school, I’ve never met anyone with that name—’
‘Audrey,’ Hamilton interrupted again. Although he tolerated her chatty nature, warmed to it even, he was in no mood for nattering this afternoon. ‘The post-mortem isn’t the reason I’m here to talk to you, Audrey.’
‘Oh, well, that’s disappointing. There’s me gearing up with all my extra notes; signs of possible sexual activity prior to death, a curry and beer for dinner and a large angel tattooed between his shoulder blades — more than likely a homage to himself, given the biblical namesake — and it’s not even what you want from me.’
Hamilton smiled slightly but it quickly transformed into a sigh. ‘And that’s where my investigations always start, with the victim, but it’s just …’
Audrey frowned. ‘It’s just what?’
‘I feel guilty saying the victim isn’t where my concern lies right now,’ he blurted out and instantly regretted it. ‘Of course, I’m devastated for this man and his family, and it’s the dead who usually point us in the direction of their killer—’
‘But this time you have that information already,’ Audrey finished.
Hamilton tipped his head. ‘Yes, and even more worrying reasons to find our murderer as soon as possible. Which is why you’re actually still the person I need to speak to.’
He saw the flash of confusion in Audrey’s eyes as she leaned back in her chair — away from her medical notes and findings, away from her security blanket — while he updated her on Fraser’s situation.
‘Oh my god,’ she whispered, and ran both hands through her hair, stopping mid-way as though she might pull the strands from their roots.
‘What with you being the last to see Fraser, I need to know everything you can tell me about Friday night.’
Audrey’s eyebrows pinched together, and her mouth turned down while she shook her head. ‘No, I never saw Kerry.’
‘But Clarke said—’
‘Yes, we were meant to meet in the pub, but she never showed. Well, no, that’s wrong …’
‘What’s wrong, Audrey? She bloody came to the pub or she didn’t, which is it?’
‘Sorry, I mean …’ Her cheeks burned as brightly as her hair as she took a few calming breathes. ‘I was minutes from leaving here to meet Kerry when she sent me a text saying that she had a migraine and could she take a rain check on the evening.’
‘What time was that?’ Hamilton’s words rushed out as quickly as his mind began updating the timeline of events.
Audrey’s eyes flickered around the room. ‘Erm … I’m not sure, probably about nine.’ Hamilton jumped to his feet. ‘I have the message on my phone, if you need to see it. It’s the reason why I was at the crime scene this morning … as I hadn’t been out … I could be on call…’ She lowered her face into her palms.
Hamilton lingered at the door before turning to ask one final question. ‘Did you reply?’
Her tear-filled eyes met his and she nodded. ‘I told her to snuggle up in a dark room and get some sleep. When I’ve suffered with migraines in the past, the darkness has always helped me.’
12
The darkness is my ally. I never lurked in the shadows, I was reborn in them. So many people fear the closing of the day. They fear the shadows invading their homes, their streets, their lives; fear the suffocation of a black abyss and, even when a light is shone, they fear the twilight silhouettes who dance on their bedroom walls and mock their panic of the darkness. But it is in these moments, cloaked in that very same darkness, you have the opportunity to grow.
It is the light I fear. I never feel safe in the brightness; I have nowhere to hide. There are those who dance and rejoice in the sun; the innocent who are yet to be burnt and the monsters wearing their masks. In the harsh beam of light, people choose a role and hide behind their chosen disguise: mother, father, friend, teacher, police officer. But who are they really? Enemy, adulterer, abuser, liar, stranger. You can’t know. In the darkness, there are no masks, you’re unprotected to the truth.
I don’t yet know the sergeant’s fate … I think I do, because I have a plan in mind, but people always have a way of surprising you, and you end up taking the second door or path or backup plan. But for now, she needs to experience the darkness so I know what kind of a person she really is. It’s fascinating to watch people … not “people watching” in a café while you’re sipping on a cup of coffee trying to distract yourself from your own problems, but really watch them. From the shadows, when they think there’s no chance of them being observed, when they’ve stripped themselves of their masks.
My thoughts quickly jump to Doctor Emine and I can’t help but wonder what’s hiding behind her mask. At the hospital she took a real interest in Grace, giving her extra talk therapy sessions and offering help. Eventually, the woman had stirred the memories Grace had fought so hard to bury, her suppressed pain and anger welcomed me back. I no longer needed the alcohol to take control of Grace’s body. I found the footway to be in control again, though, of course, that seems to have thrown up more problems than I was expecting.
You never want to share.
A tingle slithers down my back when I think of the doctor. Her confidence and sex appeal, and the abi
lity to command the people in a room as soon as she stepped inside it, blows me away. I’m in awe of Doctor Em. I can’t remember the last woman I’ve met who could radiate that strength and encouragement; a woman who made tough decisions and took ownership of them; a woman who makes me want to accomplish that … to accomplish my goals.
Ultimately, I had to lie to Em. Hell, I thought the woman was inspirational, but I wasn’t going to miss out on my opportunity — this opportunity — for no quack. I thought faking Grace’s progress would have been more of a challenge, I mean, isn’t it the hospital’s job to recognise the signs. But it was during the therapy I found the doctor’s flaw — her need to believe in people. Em’s belief in second chances, rehabilitation and the need for perpetual hope meant she couldn’t see that I, Carly, had become more powerful than all of them. Grace was the mask we wore in the light.
Doctor Em placed blame in the past. She explained that an awful, unthinkable evil lurked in Grace’s subconscious and rather than remember it, face it and deal with it, she had created our alter personalities to escape the pain.
The doctor was right, there was an evil, and it was Manor Hall Hospital that brought the wickedness back into our lives, more than the doctor will ever understand.
That face. The face that haunted and sneered and smiled. Carefree and living while we were merely existing. Grace had given up. In order to survive, I stepped up and saved us. Why should I pay for my actions? It’s not my fault I’m here … that I’ve become this person. It’s who I have to be … who I was made to be.
‘Then this bitch comes along and rubs it in further,’ I shout out and kick the silent coffin. ‘It wasn’t my fault I was caught, it was yours … and then I was sent to that place. To that hell hole, to be forced to live out that pain over and over again with nowhere to hide.’
You see, it wasn’t my fault, it was theirs, and they’ll all have to pay now. I just need to wait a little bit longer. This building may be my latest prison, but it’s a prison I've chosen for myself, for now, and it will serve me well until the time is right … not long to go. It’s time I played with a few more people’s lives before I end this. Just the way they’ve played with mine.
