by Matt Hilton
‘So now you just want to make a joke of it?’
‘Dead right,’ he snapped. ‘Because it is a joke.’
‘Oh. So that makes me a joke, too?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘You don’t have to.’ Kerry shoved off the table. Its wooden legs squealed across the floor. Adam gave it an angry shove back at her.
‘OK! So if Swain’s real, let him prove it to me. He’s here now, is he? Where?’ Before she could answer, Adam slapped his hands on his chest and threw back his head. ‘Come on, Swain. If you’re here let me know. Come and whisper sweet nothings in my ear, you bastard. Come on then!’ He waited, for about three seconds, before he thrust out his chin at Kerry. ‘Well? Did that wake the bastard up? Is he here or what? Yeah that’s right. He’s a no show. That’s because he never was here. He’s only in your head.’
‘So I’m a joke and a delusional nutter?’
‘You’re not a joke,’ he growled, ‘but you’re acting like you’ve lost your mind. I told you before, you need help, Kerry.’
‘So help me.’ She screwed her fists against her sternum. ‘Help me by listening to me, Adam. Please? Give me the benefit of the doubt. Once I catch Robson, Swain will give me what I want, and it will be all over.’
He shook his head. ‘Sorry. I can’t. I warned you I can’t live my life like this. It won’t end with Robson, because next you’ll be chasing Sally’s abductor. It’ll never end. Kerry, this obsession you have with the dead...I can’t handle it.’
She’d wilted momentarily, desperate for his understanding, and held out an olive branch. All he had to do was reach for it and everything would have been fine between them. But no, that wasn’t Adam’s style. Instead of simply taking the branch he’d slapped her in the face with it.
Anger, disappointment, frustration: they were the emotions driving her argument, and they melted from her. With cool clarity, she worked her engagement ring off her finger and placed it on the table. Adam stared at it, then at her face. His head shook gently, but that was the extent of his response.
‘You can’t live your life like this,’ she said, then flicked the ring away. It hit his abdomen and fell to the floor. He didn’t retrieve it. ‘Well, I’m sorry, Adam, but this is my life. Not ours.’
She left the house with nothing more than what was in her handbag, her phone and the clothes she wore.
37
He was about to summon DI Darke to his office, when his phone rang. He hit the speaker button.
‘DCI Charles Porter,’ he announced.
‘Hello, sir,’ said a woman with a soft Scottish burr he instantly recognised. Alisha Graham was the civilian staff comms supervisor. ‘I have an Adam Gill on the line who’d like to speak with you about his fiancée, uh, Detective Inspector Darke.’
Porter wasn’t in the habit of receiving personal calls from the respective partners of his team. The one time he’d met Adam Gill, he’d found the man to be a brash lout with little endearing about him. He’d wondered what a bright, attractive young woman like Kerry found likeable in the lager-swilling Neanderthal. It had come as no surprise to later learn that Gill was a guard over at HMP Belmarsh, having apparently failed to pass the stringent testing process to enter the Metropolitan Police Service, despite his background in the Royal Marines. Porter had no particular desire to speak with him, but his curiosity was piqued.
‘Did he give any hint about what he wants, Alisha?’
‘He only asked to speak with you on a private matter regarding Kerry.’
Porter thought for a second longer, then picked up the handset and cancelled the speakerphone function. ‘OK. You can put him through.’
There was a brief pause while Alisha transferred the call, and again Porter announced his rank and name in full.
‘Hello,’ said Adam, his voice sounding hoarse. ‘Thanks for speaking to me, Chief Inspector. But I’m going to warn you. You might not be too happy with what I’ve got to say.’
‘Well,’ he said ambiguously. ‘We’ll have to wait and see.’
‘I’m calling about Kerry. DI Darke. I’m her fiancé, or, well, I was till about an hour ago.’ Adam fell silent, but Porter was certain he could hear a faint crunching noise. Was the man grinding his teeth?
‘I’m sorry to hear that, Mr Gill. I take a keen interest in the welfare of my team, and it pains me to hear that a valued officer is experiencing relationship problems.’
‘Yeah, of course you do. Look, Chief Inspector, can we just speak man to man without all the formal bollocks? We both know you don’t give a shit about our relationship, only how it might affect Kerry’s performance at work.’
‘If you intend being rude, I won’t put up with it. Be civil, Mr Gill, or I’ll hang up.’
‘I wasn’t being rude.’ Adam sounded genuinely surprised he’d been taken out of context. ‘I just don’t want us dancing around each other. Just want us to say things as it is so there’s no confusion.’
‘Yes, well, we can speak plainly, but there’s no need for bad language.’
‘Fair enough, I’ll watch my P’s and Q’s.’
Porter nodded, without answering.
‘You’re Kerry’s superior, her immediate line manager, aren’t you? You have a duty of care to her?’
‘That’s right, Mr Gill. What are you getting at?’
‘Well, you must have noticed…’
‘Noticed what?’
‘Come on, Porter. You know what I’m talking about. Her bloody behaviour!’
‘Kerry’s been under some stress lately and—’
‘Stress you didn’t help alleviate,’ Adam butted in. ‘But it’s more than that. We all have stress at work; I’m betting you have too? But things with Kerry have gone beyond the joke.’
‘In regards the recent incident with Erick Swain, I offered Kerry counselling with one of our occupational therapists.’
‘Yeah, and she refused. Surely, as her superior officer, you could’ve ordered her to attend therapy?’
‘She convinced me she neither wanted nor required therapy. Pushing her into attending counselling might’ve had a detrimental effect at the time.’ Porter racked his brain, trying to recall if he’d made an official record of Kerry’s refusal to accept his offer of help: yes, he had.
‘And you don’t think she needs it now?’
‘In the past few days she’s shown a fine—’
‘You’re kidding me, aren’t you? She’s on the verge of a break down, man. If you haven’t noticed, you’re bloody blind or you don’t take as keen an interest in the welfare of your team as you make out.’
Porter wasn’t blind. He’d noticed all right. And despite what Adam said, he did care about the individuals in his team: it worked best only when they were at their best. But he couldn’t deny he’d neglected to act on Kerry’s erratic behaviour, except for sharing his concern with his old friend Graeme Harker. It might surprise Adam to learn that he was actually giving her a break, in not following disciplinary procedures for what could be perceived as neglect of duty — a sackable offense. She’d arrived at work drunk, ignored his direct orders, grown resentful and insubordinate of his leadership, and now — reading between the lines — had sneaked off home for a row with her boyfriend when she should’ve been on duty. He didn’t appreciate the insinuation he was being unsupportive when she could be suspended from duty, pending disciplinary action.
‘She has been notably distracted,’ he admitted.
‘Little-bloody-wonder. She needs help. All this stuff with Swain and Robson—’
This time it was Porter who cut in sharply. ‘Which she is not at liberty to speak to you about.’
‘Come off it. You don’t go home to your missus and tell her what’s going on at work?’
‘I certainly do not.’
‘Bollocks. Besides, she isn’t giving away state secrets. Anyway, that’s not what I mean. I’m talking about how obsessed she’s grown with catching this Robson character. And what s
he’ll do when she gets her hands on him.’
Porter’s chest felt constricted. ‘What exactly are you getting at, Mr Gill?’
‘Nothing,’ Adam said too quickly. ‘I just don’t think she should be on the case. It isn’t helping her state of mind, and it isn’t going to end well. Look, I feel like a swine even calling you like this. It sounds as if I’m just being bitter, because she’s dumped me. But, I’m worried about her. You need to pull her off this case, Porter. Hey, you know about what happened to her sister, don’t you?’
Porter was aware that Kerry’s older sibling had been abducted as a child, but beyond that he hadn’t given it much attention. Many officers had personal reasons for entering the police service. If her sister’s abduction had been the catalyst for Kerry joining up he wouldn’t hold it against her, she should be applauded. ‘What has that to do with anything?’
‘The trauma’s had a lifelong impact on her,’ Adam stated. ‘When she was a kid, she had to attend psychotherapy sessions. After that kid got shot on Wandsworth Road, and Swain fell to his death, well, I think it’s all come back to haunt her…uh, come back on her again. Now there’s this stuff with another girl going missing up in Cumbria. She’s a lit fuse, and she’s going to blow. Porter, no, Detective Chief Inspector Porter, you have a duty of care to her. You have to help her before something really bad happens.’
‘Do you have any idea where she is now?’
‘I was hoping she’d returned to work. I haven’t seen her since she threw her engagement ring back at me, and to tell the truth, I’m not sure there’s anywhere else she could go.’
‘Hmmm.’ Porter frowned deeply, then on impulse craned round and peered at the point on his office wall where his commendation hung, thinking how it had perturbed Kerry and left him creeped out by her reaction. ‘You mentioned that Kerry was once under psychiatric care…’
‘Well I know she saw a child psychologist. I’m unsure if that’s the same thing.’
Porter didn’t bother clarifying the difference. ‘Do you know the name of her psychologist?’
‘Kerry only ever told me she called him Doctor Ron. He had a practice up north in Carlisle, back in the late nineties. I was going to ring him before I decided to call you, and I did a bit of digging. I found him in Kerry’s browsing history on her laptop. He’s called Ronald Dawson. He’s retired now but, well, do you think he can help her?’
‘Possibly,’ said Porter. ‘Did you get a contact number for him?’
‘Yeah.’ Adam read it out, and Porter jotted it on a notepad on his desk. ‘Will you call him, Porter?’
‘Doctor-patient confidentiality exists,’ Porter explained. ‘But I believe Doctor Dawson will be more inclined to answer my questions than those of Kerry’s ex-fiancé, don’t you?’
‘Yeah. You’ve probably got a point. It’d be best coming from you, and I really hope you can help, because I’m at my wits end here. I only want what’s best for Kerry. I didn’t call you to stir up any shit for her. Only so she gets the help she needs before…’ he faltered and went silent.
Before she gets her hands on Robson, Porter thought, and something really bad happens.
38
If she asked him, she was reasonably confident Danny Korba would let her crash at his place for a few nights until she found somewhere more permanent to live, but she wasn’t going to ask. It was difficult enough staving off his overly protective attention as it were, and it could become unbearable — and impossible to hide her state of mind — if they shared a house, as well as an office. Mel Scanlon had adult kids at home, and both Glenn and Tony had toddlers, and girlfriends who might not be keen on them living in such close quarters to another woman. It was the problem with being a transplantee in the city; she had few friends and no family there to reach out to in times of need. Nigel Bellows, the coroner’s assistant, was a friend of sorts, but not close enough to ask help from. With nothing for it, she found a room at a hotel near Euston Station, where the overnight parking cost almost as much as the basic, though clean and comfortable, facilities. She picked the hotel as a snap decision. The first time she’d travelled from Carlisle to London, she’d spilled out of Euston Station clutching an overnight bag, and an online booking to the nearest affordable accommodation, and had stayed there for three weeks while she settled into her new role with the Met. There was nothing sentimental about her return. Her room was exactly as she remembered — Spartan and uniform — but the hotel boasted a restaurant with good food and a coffee shop she planned on making regular use of again.
Being in her room reminded her of her first arrival in London, when she’d been excited, anxious, and also maudlin for home. Transferring to London she’d effectively said goodbye to her mother. Siobhan’s alcoholism and dependency on prescription drugs had replaced any necessity for keeping her only remaining child close. Her mother had abandoned her as acutely as had her dad, without ever having gone anywhere but inside her own self-pity. Thinking of her mam, she was tempted to give her a call, but resisted the urge. No good could come from talking to Siobhan, considering the reason for her current predicament. Siobhan had formed a low opinion of men since her dad left, and when Kerry rang her with the news of her engagement to Adam, she’d been met with a wall of indifference bordering on animosity. Hearing that her daughter’s relationship had failed wouldn’t change her opinion any, and would earn Kerry only an unwanted ‘I told you so’.
She lay on her side on the hotel bed. It was huge, and its wide expanse exaggerated her loneliness. She needed a hug, but even a metaphorical one was out of the question, especially from Siobhan. She’d no close friends back home in the north, none that knew her well enough to lend a sympathetic ear, definitely not a shoulder to cry on. What she wished for was her older sister. She pulled up her knees and wrapped her arms around her shins, feeling even smaller and alone.
She wasn’t.
Girl had accompanied her to the hotel, and had taken residence in a corner of the room, in the unused space behind a tub chair sitting kitty-corner to a long counter holding the few accoutrements, and pamphlets supplied by the hotel. Kerry watched her from under her lashes, and for once Girl didn’t race for cover. She remained nebulous though, indistinct, and unresponsive under her scrutiny. As ever, Girl hung her head, sorrowful, stringy hair concealing her features, and yet Kerry sensed a change in her demeanour. There was mournfulness as usual, but this time Kerry was certain it was due to hers and not Girl’s troubled existence.
‘Why won’t you speak to me?’ Kerry whispered.
Through the veil of her eyelashes, she was certain Girl’s head raised a fraction in response, but she didn’t speak. She never spoke.
‘You and Swain are alike,’ Kerry went on, and this time Girl flickered and appeared poised to run. ‘You’re not like him in nature. That’s not what I mean. You’re his opposite. But you are like him in one way. You want something from me.’
Girl’s head rose and fell again, and Kerry could define enough of her to see her small hands clutch at the insubstantial fabric of her shapeless dress.
‘Unless you tell me what to do I can’t help you. Girl. I don’t even know your real name. I’ve called you Girl for…well, forever. You’ve never objected to it, but neither have you hinted it’s wrong. Who are you? I mean who are you really? And what is it you want from me?’
Girl turned her back. Kerry allowed her eyes to widen a fraction more, and for the briefest of moments saw Girl’s shoulders hitching, as if she sobbed, but then she darted, and as Kerry tried to follow the movement, Girl disappeared, though not completely. There was a swirl of shadows as she fled into the en suite bathroom. To pursue her inside the tiny room was pointless, there was no cornering a wraith that could come and go from this world at will.
‘I’m sorry.’ Kerry meant it, but frustration was killing her. ‘I shouldn’t press you, I know. But I’m at a loss here! How am I meant to know what you need if you won’t tell me?’
She angled for a c
learer view of the bathroom’s interior. If Girl was in there, she’d taken refuge in the shower.
‘Girl? If you can’t speak, is there some way you could show me?’
No reply, and no hint of movement. Kerry stood, and took a step closer to the open door and craned for a peek.
Girl rocketed past, this time for the corner beyond the bed. Kerry made the mistake of turning with her, and Girl never slowed when she reached the corner, only dematerialized through it.
‘No! Wait! Come back, Girl!’
She swore under her breath, at herself, not the recalcitrant sprit.
What was it with her personal coterie of ghosts that they were reluctant to show when she bloody well wanted them to?
Where the hell was Swain?
The ringing of her mobile phone startled her.
She delved inside her bag, and sat down heavily on the bed as she brought up the glowing screen.
There was a number displayed, no contact details, because she hadn’t assigned any yet. She recognised the number though, it was one she’d rang only days ago.
‘Doctor Ron?’ she asked, surprised that he’d called her.
‘Yes. Hello, Little Kes.’ He gave the prompt for straight speaking in those few short words. ‘Ehm, are you alone?’
She glanced around. Yes, she was alone all right.
‘What I mean,’ Ron went on, ‘is are you able to speak in private?’
‘Aye,’ Kerry said, feeling a knot form in her stomach. ‘I’m the only one here. Is…is there something wrong?’
‘Well I genuinely hope not. I hope I didn’t talk out of turn…’
‘Ron. What is it?’ She stood, paced half the length of the room.
‘I just received a rather impertinent call from a chap claiming to be your commanding officer?’
‘What?’
‘A chap called Charles Porter? He said he was a Detective Chief Inspector, and your immediate supervisor.’
