THE GREEN ROOM
A Psychological Thriller
in the “DARK MINDS” Series
by
FAITH MORTIMER
From the
Best Selling Author of
“On Devil’s Brae”
& “Behind a Twisted Smile”
About the author:
Faith Mortimer: born in Manchester, England and educated in Singapore, Malaya and Hampshire, England. Qualified as a Registered nurse and later changed careers to oversee a number of travel and sport related companies.
Faith is married with a family. Once the children attended University, she decided to join them in reading for a Science degree. Faith obtained an Honours Science degree in 2005 and believes the dedication and stamina needed to sit for a degree while in full-time employment, gave her the confidence to finish writing her first novel.
She has now written and published 16 novels and a volume of short stories. All are available as eBooks and paperbacks from your favourite online book store.
For more information about Faith and her writing please follow on Facebook. www.facebook.com/FaithMortimer.Author
http://twitter.com/FaithMortimer
Website: www.faithmortimerauthor.com
Where Faith writes a regular blog about all manner of things!
THE GREEN ROOM
by
FAITH MORTIMER
Copyright © Faith Mortimer 2015
The right of Faith Mortimer to be identified as author of this work
has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All Rights Reserved
No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication
may be made without written permission.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents originate from the writer’s imagination.
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
Published 2015
by Topsails Charter, Southampton
Acknowledgements
A Big Thank You to my editor Catherine and to my husband Chris for their invaluable assistance and patient support
Also thanks to my Beta readers and to THE Book Club, especially Tracy Fenton and her administration team for their wonderful support.
.
THE GREEN ROOM
Faith Mortimer
PROLOGUE
It was the foulest of nights. She couldn’t remember a night as grim. Torrential rain fell in sheets and then swirled along the gutters before racing down between the bars of the storm drains and hitting the rushing stream below. What had started as light drizzle had become a storm.
Feeling utterly miserable, she paused beneath the street lamp, her umbrella all but useless as a sudden gust whirled around the corner shop, buffeting and shrieking against her slender body like a wailing, demented banshee. The street lamplight shone around her like a weak halo, shrouding her long dark hair, pulled back into a ponytail. She took in the route before her, the gaze from her tawny-coloured eyes flicking left and right. The road looked empty, but she could barely see beyond the second street light, and it was a long and squelchy twenty-five-minute walk home from the Yvonne Arnaud theatre.
Damn her pride! Why hadn’t she accepted the lift from Darren? Okay, so she may have had to invite him in for coffee, and yes, he could be boring and full of himself, like many males playing the lead in a play, but at least she would have been dry. She recalled how cross he looked when she told him politely but firmly she had a lift lined up.
It wasn’t true, but she believed it at the time. She had noticed the other dark-haired man drinking alone at the theatre bar. She spotted him in the same corner when the theatre company had first arrived in town a couple of weeks earlier. They locked eyes for a moment when she wandered into the noisy room and bought herself a gin and tonic. Quite a bit older than her but good-looking and, judging from his physique, pretty fit. She lingered by the bar, perching herself upon a bar stool, with her shoulder bag over the back of her seat. She wondered if he would make any attempt to chat her up, but apart from that one brief eye contact and slow, appraising smile, she was disappointed when he made no other positive move. Strange—she was certain he was interested. Having someone else on hand would have made Darren think twice about pestering her later on, too. His earlier offer of a lift was simply an excuse to get her in his car. Fighting his grubby hands off was the last thing she wanted after the evening performance. It had been a long week and she was exhausted.
She sighed as she stood beneath the street lamp and hoped Darren wouldn’t sulk and take it out on her the following day. She had heard about his reputation when he didn’t get his own way. Too bad! She wasn’t in the mood for games, even for ‘star quality’, and sleeping with him wouldn’t have done anything to further her career. She felt a fresh trickle of icy water run down beneath her coat collar and she shivered. God, it felt bloody cold after the warm, late, summer weather they had all been enjoying.
She resented not being able to splash out on a taxi. Playing a small part in the play meant low wages, and pay day was still over a week away. Her thoughts flashed to the theatre company’s next production. The director had promised her a more important role and that entailed more money. It hadn’t taken much to persuade him; married men were so easily persuaded. She chuckled. Oh yes, she was determined to make her way up the ladder to stardom, no matter what.
Ahead of her was the town park, the fenced-off children’s playground and sports fields over to her left, while to the right, snaked a thicket of birch and hazel frequently used by runners and dog walkers during the more clement weather. The wood cut right across the parkland near the ornamental gardens and would shorten her journey by five minutes if she hurried. She took another dejected look around. The route was one she knew well; she took it regularly in the mornings to get to the theatre but supposed no other idiot was likely to be out walking in such awful weather.
Another fierce gust smacked into her, and, mind made up, she crossed the road and headed for the path bordering the wooded copse. Within seconds, the air felt warmer, and she realised the trees were blocking the path of the wind. The rain began to ease off, too, and within a minute, it stopped. She fished a tissue from her pocket, wiped her face dry and set off.
Glancing at her watch in the muted light shining from the lamp above, she saw it was twenty minutes to twelve. With luck, she would be in the warm and dry before midnight, enjoying a blissfully hot bath and a steaming mug of cocoa.
Her steps made no noise as she hurried along in her thigh-length boots; the only sounds came from the incessant drip of water from the trees on her right or the rumble of late-night traffic on the roads behind her. The meandering path was lit by a string of lamps throwing out golden pools of light. And then she froze.
A crack from a broken twig, a rustle in the undergrowth…and a hooded figure loomed up out of the gloom by her side. He uncovered his head, and when he smiled, she recognised him. How odd that they should meet there, of all places.
“You left this behind in The Green Room,” he said, putting his hand into his pocket and holding out her purse. “I was coming this way, but you were walking too fast for me to catch up. Everything’s all there. I swear I haven’t taken any of your cards or cash.”
“Oh! How stupid of me. It must have fallen out of my bag when I hooked it over my bar stool earlier. Thank you.” She reached for it. “What a gentleman following me all this way…and on a night like this, too.”
He said nothing. Glancing up, she stared into his face. Instinctively, within seconds, she knew something wasn’t right, despite his grin.
It happened so
fast, and she was so taken aback that she forgot to scream. Her breath caught in the back of her throat as he stepped towards her, one arm snaking round her waist forcing her forwards, and then spinning her round, causing her to slam against him. Her skirt and coat were yanked up from behind, and with terror, she felt a hand slide between her buttocks as her tights and knickers were torn from her. From out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other arm strike down towards her neck.
As she opened her mouth to scream, she caught a glint of metal as it flashed; a long moment of white-hot agony as she fought for breath. She didn’t know which was worse: the fingers biting into her windpipe or the assault from behind. She felt her eyes bulging, losing vision, and then a moment of blessed relief as the pressure was released round her throat. Her lungs felt seared as she gasped for air, only to catch it in a stifled sob as once again the force returned. Why me…and then nothing as a black shutter fell before her eyes.
Chapter One - Christian
Looking back, it had been simple…as easy as the other times. He watched Janet Lambert shimmy into the room, glancing round to make sure she had an audience. She threw her glossy dark hair back over her shoulders, smiling broadly at everyone who looked her way, including him. She widened her eyes, sharing an inviting look; he had no idea what colour they were from where he was sitting but knew that, later, they would fill with terror. He had her measure. These women, they all had a high opinion of themselves, believing they were special. A pretty face, seductive body and the belief the whole world would fall at their feet just because they smiled at a man. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why didn’t they use their brains just once? Make it all the more exciting.
He noticed how she crossed her long slim legs, displaying her thighs above the tops of her leather boots. Her bag was hanging on the back of her seat, unzipped and wide open, and he caught a glimpse of a wallet nestling near the top. These women made it so easy. He gave it just the half hour, time for one drink, and then slipped away before there was a mass exodus when time was called. He was certain he would achieve what he wanted.
But, none of these women were clever. Nowhere near his league. They thought they were special because they were on the stage. They all imagined they were destined for the higher echelons of Hollywood. Poor histrionic cows. It was all an illusion, mostly; ninety per cent would never make the headlines…ever.
But an engagement with him gave them just that. One meeting was all it took, and then the stupid bimbos had more media coverage than they would ever imagine possible.
Thespian prey. That was what he liked to call them. Heigh-ho…on to the next.
Chapter Two - Ella
“Can I get you another drink, Ella?”
I looked round, recognising the slurred voice belonged to Liam McAllister, a registrar at the Royal Surrey County Hospital, and currently stationed on the men’s general surgical ward.
I know I smiled, realising Liam was more than just a little plastered. But as eye-catching as he was, he was unquestionably drunk and therefore prone to amorous overtures and positively dangerous. Besides, my friend Teresa Nikolic told me she had it on good authority he was drawn to stunning women. Although I considered myself moderately attractive, I couldn’t fill that criterion. I would be nothing more than a minute’s distraction.
“Can I?” he persisted, swaying as he clutched at the doorframe with one hand while the other held a half-full beer glass.
I held up my hands in front of me, worried that the amber nectar was about to be spilt over my dress. “No thanks, Liam. I’ve had more than enough and I was thinking about going home.”
“So soon? But it’s barely past midnight. To quote an overused expression, the night is still young.” He grinned and attempted a leer.
“Maybe it is to you, but it’s actually nearer two o’clock, and I’m on early shift tomorrow, as I’ve swopped with Staff Nurse Bloomfield. You know, Vivienne Bloomfield. Then, I’m on holiday for a fortnight.”
“Nice one. Going away?”
“No. I’ll be spending most of the time painting my flat. The builders have done all the heavy stuff, and now I’ve got to start on the walls. I want some colour around the place. Once that’s finished, I can think about new furniture. There are a couple of auctions coming up, and I have my eye on some chairs and a desk.”
“Ah! You know what they say—all work, etcetera, etcetera. By the way, where’s your current man? I was—” He hiccupped and glanced round the room. “—hoping you’d finally ditched your policeman friend. He’s not your type, you know.”
This time I did laugh. Liam had always been transparent, and maybe this time, he was intent on taking things further, despite my earlier doubts that I wasn’t attractive enough for him. I had been leaning against the wall and stood up straight.
“You mean Michael? And no, I’m not about to ditch him. We’ve been together now for…” I thought and did a quick count. Blimey. Was it really that long? Two years? “Just over two years.”
Liam leant in closer. His dark-green eyes glittered from the alcohol, and his hot breath reeked of beer. “Two years and still not committed? Tut tut, Theatre Sister Mallory. So there’s hope for me yet, then?”
I shook my head. I was hopeless when it came to understanding men, but instinctively I was positive Liam was far too hot-headed and unpredictable for me. It must have been the Highland blood in him. As I stared back into his pale freckled face, framed by a head of dark-red hair, I likened him to a latter-day Rob Roy or William Wallace. He was lean but strong; I recalled his capable hands assisting his consultant-surgeon boss in theatre on many occasions. Although normally well-mannered and what my mother would call a perfect gentleman, I knew Liam could erupt when thwarted, and I certainly wasn’t in the mood for any of his suggestions. I suppressed a sigh. I liked him, but I was too shy to say what I really felt.
“Nope, I’m afraid not.”
Liam frowned for a moment before his face lightened. “So, can I offer you a lift home at least? I’m bound to be going your way.”
I pulled a face despite trying to hide my feelings from him. “Nice try, Doctor McAllister, but the answer’s still no. You know darn well I live along the Epsom Road, and you’re in the opposite direction. Anyway, I drove here.” I lowered my voice and took a gamble on his temper not rising. “Besides, I doubt you should be driving anywhere. Liam, be sensible. You’ve had far too much to drink. By the way, did you know there’s some blood on your cuff?”
He turned up at the party on his own and hadn’t been there long. That wasn’t unusual—I knew of at least two other hospital bashes going on that evening. Many hospital staff enjoyed a party crawl. Liam must have gone straight from work, as I noticed the specks of blood on the cuff of his right shirtsleeve. His shoes were a bit muddy, too. He really was becoming careless. After he arrived, he went straight to the kitchen to look for a drink, and he was swaying slightly on his feet. He left a small trail of wet mud across the laminate flooring. He had already been drinking, then. I bit my lip. What should I do? I thought. It wouldn’t have been the first time he had driven home blind drunk. I sympathised up to a point. Like the majority of hospital staff, he was overworked and, I knew, more stressed than a human being should be. The drink alleviated some of the stress, but it wasn’t the answer. I looked round at the crowd in the room, hoping to catch someone’s eye and some help. Almost everyone among the senior hospital staff present knew of Liam and his off-duty drinking habits. So far, it hadn’t interfered with his career, as he was a gifted doctor and surgeon.
Thankfully, his mood was good that night as he attempted to play the fool and leered at his beer glass.
“I made a mess of opening a bottle of wine for Alex in the kitchen. Bloody thing broke in my hand. I must have cut myself. But you’re talking rubbish about my driving. I haven’t had much up ‘til now, but now you mention it, this little beauty is looking rather empty,” he replied, but I didn’t hear the rest of his conversation, as there was a sudden comm
otion in the opposite corner that caught my attention. A small group was huddled round a man I recognised but didn’t know personally. He was holding a small tablet, and whatever they were looking at on the screen was obviously of great interest.
“Sorry, Liam. I missed that. I wonder what all the fuss is about over there.” I glanced back, but he had already wandered off towards the kitchen in search of a fresh pint. I switched my attention back to the others when one of the women, a staff nurse from A and E, gave a sudden cry.
“Another one! Oh my god! I know I won’t sleep tonight now…wondering whether he’s out there.” She glanced round and I recognised her as Mimi Seymour.
I felt every hair on the back of my neck stand up. Somehow, I knew exactly what she was talking about. Almost against my will, I found myself joining the knot of people and stood next to my friend and work colleague, Teresa. The group had fallen silent, and the other woman’s outburst had caught the attention of everyone in the room. The music and the chatter died down. Alex, the party host and a hospital orthopaedics registrar, asked the tablet owner in an anxious voice what the problem was.
There was a subdued hush as he explained. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw it, either. A girl has been discovered, murdered. Just like the others dotted around Surrey…strangled and raped.”
“Where? When?” someone asked.
“Here in Guildford. She’s just been found.”
“Is it the same as the others? Have the police said it’s him? The Punisher’s work?” demanded Jenny Harris, the sister in charge of Outpatients.
I felt the blood drain from my face as I listened. There were few details, as the female victim had only been discovered that night. Such is the beauty of today’s technology, I thought. News these days travelled at a fantastic speed. I listened and soon learnt that the only facts made public were that a dark-haired young woman had been found in Stoke Park and that she had been strangled and probably raped like all the others. I wondered who she was, selfishly hoping it wasn’t someone we knew.
The Green Room Page 1
