It’s okay at first, we’ve had takeaway and some wine and listened to music and it felt normal, ordinary. It’s very good.
Of course he assumed he’s staying over. Well, so have I. We’ve had a cuddle on the couch, as I say normal, and now we have brought our wine with us into the bedroom. He is kind, gentle, he always is. I know he will want all of me tonight. I will give him what he wants. I owe it to him.
He’s turned the light out so that there is just the orange glow from the street lamp and the hall light. I have always liked it like that and he’s remembered.
I know it can’t be true, I know she can’t be here, but the shadow in the corner is Amy, the billow of the curtain in the breeze is Amy, and when I close my eyes and he touches me it is her hands that I feel. It is her old hands, bony fingers with the knuckles swollen and her skin scratchy and dry.
I try to ride over it, this feeling, but Charlie knows something is wrong and I can’t explain it to him. Christ, how do you tell your boyfriend that in the darkness you are making love to a dried out husk of a woman?
I push him away, the hurt on his face tears at my heart but I can hardly breathe. “It’s too early after all the drama. I think you should go, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” I want him to stay but he is so upset and I feel so bad.
I will spend the night in the chair by the window watching the trees in the churchyard, I can’t face the bed.
I need to get this sorted.
I can do it, if I just finish the job and get the enquiry out of the way it’ll all be fine, we can be together, we will be happy.
Chapter 34
I’m going to the woods. They have told me not to. First it was Mrs Harker; it was our third appointment. She told me she didn’t think I was as well as I imagined. Bill Collins has said that I need to take time off. They don’t understand.
Nobody sees, only me. I have to find her. She’s out there in the dark on her own. I said I would find her. When we first heard about it all. Amy and the suspicions of her old colleagues to do with Maria’s sudden disappearance. Ever since then I was caught up with it. I need to find her and until I do I can’t move on.
I think about Amy and the things that she said, the lies that she told me. There was that night I spent in her house. She crept into my room, she thought I didn’t know but oh I knew. All those weeks I spent pretending to be innocent and ignorant and making her believe I wanted to be her friend. It was easy, the acting and the lying and the pretence, it was easy because it was taking me to Maria.
I can’t take it, this lack of closure and so I’m going to the woods and I will find her. I am coming Maria. I will take her away from there and give her peace.
They have made me stay at home. Mrs Harker said I was suffering from PTSD and she has given me a prescription for some stuff to help me to sleep. I don’t want to take it but sometimes I need to. Sometimes in the night they are both there, I see them. Amy comes often and she brings Maria to torment me. I won’t take the pills tonight though because tonight I am going to the woods.
I have to wait until after dark, I can’t risk being seen and sometimes Bill calls me during the day. He says he is just checking in but really his is checking up. He is keeping his eye on me. I know he’s worried because the enquiry is coming up and I need to be able to give my evidence. I will, I’ll tell them all about it. I’ll tell them how evil Amy was and then I’ll surprise them, I’ll tell them that I have found Maria and after that it will be over.
Who would have thought, when we were setting up the cover of Humming Bird that it would end the way it did? It was all so perfect. It didn’t take long for me to get Amy to notice me and then the business with the shawl, oh yes she fell for it. Because I was the same size and colouring as poor Maria we hoped that she would be drawn to me. We hoped that I was a type that would attract her and it worked better than we had hoped. I like to think that I was mostly responsible, made the biggest contribution but now I see. They are all ready to leave it. They’ve told me the file will still be open, murder cases are never closed but they don’t really believe that. They’re happy that the guilty have been punished and they think it’s enough. They’re paying lip service that’s all, a search in due course we’re told, once there is more evidence to indicate the location, and loads of other nonsense.
Amy came to me again last night. I know it was a dream. I am not losing my mind no matter what the psychologist might think I can tell the difference between reality and imagination. It made me think though. If she can come to me in a dream then maybe I can go to her. Maybe I can reach her in her own little bit of Hell. If I can reach her I may be able to communicate and then I can ask her to help me. What difference will it make to her now? She is cursed and will surely spend eternity in purgatory.
I am not sure how to go about it, I have practiced some meditation in a small way in the past but I don’t know that it will help now. I’m going to get some books out of the library, things about mind reading, how to heighten your senses, that sort of thing. Nothing too weird. No, not the library – they may be spying on me – I’ll buy them. I can go to the Waterstones down near Costa. Hah, what an irony that I should go there where she used to hide to watch me thinking I didn’t know.
I have taken sleeping pills once or twice. At first I didn’t want to and then I realised that maybe sleep was a good thing. I dream when I sleep and when I dream she comes to me. I need to be able to reach her to keep the channels open. I think that maybe I need something stronger than the pills that Mrs Harker gives me. I may need to go and see some of the people down in town in the alleys and the doorways. I will have to be careful though, some of them know me.
Oh Amy, what a tangle we have to sort out. But I can do it I know I can. I’m strong and I have a purpose, I’m going to find Maria, I have to give her peace.
Chapter 35
It’s cold again and raining. It feels as though it has never stopped for days. The ground is sticky underfoot in places and in others it runs with water, little streamlets gurgling through the undergrowth. I have my torch and my boots. I’m well equipped and I’m not afraid.
The car is well back amongst the trees. It’s almost invisible from the road. I would have preferred to drive the great four wheel drive but it’s still impounded. I don’t understand why really; everyone knows that Amy was in it and that I was driving. They know that hidden in the back was a hammer and the spade with which she intended to bury my body. Really what more is there to say about it all? They have to stick to the rules though and in truth it was never my car, it was a prop in the pantomime.
I have paced in the darkness and clambered between the trees. Occasionally I believed that I felt near to Maria but it was my desperate imagination and nothing more. I don’t know what I am searching for. I don’t expect that there is a grave marker, well not in the usual sense of the word. Maybe Amy placed something there. A stone or a piece of wood to make a sad headstone, I don’t know.
I’ve brought a small spade with me now, it has a folding handle. I am not a fool, I don’t expect that I will find her tonight but if I do I want to be ready. I’ll hide this spade because I intend to come back as often as I need to until Maria is away from this place.
I’ve followed the footpath until I reached the place where she tried to kill me. She had directed me there and I still believe that we were heading for the place where Maria is lying. I think she intended to bury me in the same place. She intended us to be lonely grave companions in the empty wood. I don’t know how much further she was taking me but I think that it wouldn’t be far. She had taken the hammer from her bag, would she have chosen to kill me there if she was then faced with carrying me a long way? That said, she must have carried Maria, or did she? Did she bring her here and destroy her near to a grave she’d already dug?
I am wet and tired and I need to go home. The car feels cold and the windows have steamed up and so I have to wait for a while until the demister does its work. A wave of exhaustion sweeps through me and I cl
ose my eyes for a moment and sink into the silence.
A chill creeps up the back of my neck and the hairs on my arms prickle and tingle. Without moving I open my eyes. All my senses are alert suddenly, I feel alive in a way that I haven’t since the night I shot Amy. My eyes swivel to the rear view mirror. Outside all is darkness. A tiny light is shining in the woods. I can see it like a pinprick of brilliance amongst the trees. A walker? Not on a night like this. Maybe someone looking for a place to dump rubbish, fly tipping is a continual problem in woodland everywhere but it would have to be a determined fly tipper to come out on a night like this.
As I watch the tiny gleam grows, it wavers back and forth and a little up and down as if someone is walking along the path with a torch. It could be a sightseer, since the incident with the shooting we have had problems with rubbernecks and ghouls. I don’t want to leave the spreading warmth of the car but I am a police officer in spite of being signed off for rest and so I have to do my job.
Gently does it, I swing the door as slowly and as quietly as possible. I slide out into the damp coldness. All the time I have to keep the little gleam in sight and it has been still for a while, as if it were waiting for me. I lean back and grab my own torch from the passenger seat. Holding it in front of me but turned off, I take a few steps back in the direction of the trees. The light moves away just a tad and so I pause, I don’t want to alarm whoever it is and cause them to run.
I take a couple of steps and the light is still hovering above the path. Another pace or two and it moves away and then stops. I step forward and again. I am nearly at the tree line. The light wavers and flickers as the smaller tree branches move in the slight breeze.
I am at the trees and moving into the deep darkness, I should turn my torch on now and call out but I won’t. The light draws me on slowly at the pace that I have set, it travels into the trees. I follow.
Back down the path I’ve just trodden, on into the gloom, the light travelling just ahead. It pauses at the turn in the path, it waits for me. I am hooked to it, mesmerised. On and on past the awful tree and still on. I am peering into the darkness but I can’t see a figure, only the light. It is about the size of a small torch and three feet or so above the ground glowing white against the darkness of the trees and shrubs. I try to move nearer, pick up the pace a little but I can’t gain on it. It’s about a hundred yards away, the same distance as when I first saw it. I am certain now, it is for me, I know it is leading me.
We reach a clearing and the light is at the far side. It is a gap in the trees, triangular and almost flat. The ground is covered in tall grasses that are almost black in the night. Around the perimeter there are old trees interspersed with young saplings and there are boulders in the grass, humps and bumps here and there. The light is in the shrubs at the other side of the space. It is stationary now and I still don’t know what it is. I can’t see a figure, I haven’t been able to make out who is carrying it. I move onto the flatter ground and as I do the light falls to the ground and is extinguished. I am left in the darkness, for a moment it is complete and then my night vision comes in and I can make out the clearing again, grey and greyer, deeps and shadows and black trees opposite me. The night is silent and I know, suddenly I know with a total certainty that she is here. Maria has found me and brought me here. This is where she has been buried.
Chapter 36
I couldn’t dig, stupid, stupid. I had taken the spade back to the car after all and then when I tried to retrace my steps I turned around in the gloom and spent an age floundering back and forth taking wrong paths and turnings. I wasn’t afraid, I knew she was there waiting for me. I had to leave her though, yet again I let her down.
I can’t ask for help, I mustn’t mention this. Bill would listen to me with a patient expression as I told him of my trip to the woods, the light, the clearing and on and on. Then he would shake his head and sigh, I can hear the sigh, and then he would refer me to Mrs Harker who would tell me that I shouldn’t be visiting the woods. It would be such a help though to look through the files, see the plans of the woodland and get some bearings.
I know that the other way would be to go back on my own with a long stick and work my way around the clearing. I would poke the stick into the soft earth and then smell the end. If I found the grave the smell of putrefaction and decay would reward my search. I can’t do it. I can’t risk disturbing Maria in such a way; the thought appals me. I will not poke and prod at her sleeping body. I have done it before and it was horrendous and I can’t do it now, not this time, not this person.
The dawn finds me sleepless, laying on my bed partly dressed, staring into the dimness as I have through the long night. I clamber from the bed as the day creeps through the gap in the curtains. A hot shower eases my aching muscles but does little for my aching head.
I have made a decision of sorts to go to Amy’s house. There may be something there that can help me. Perhaps she made a record of some sort, a plan, a note in a diary, something. Surely being responsible for the death of another person who she believed she loved she recorded it somewhere. How well I know that such violence plays with your brain. It nibbles at your consciousness and pricks at your subconscious. It never lets you forget, not for a moment. She must have recorded something surely.
The road is deserted at this time of the day in a million other neighbourhoods like this. Am I the only one to feel that there is no other neighbourhood like this? I have walked to keep myself as discreet as possible. The little gate swings open easily and I follow the concrete path round to the back of the house. The little patio looks forlorn, it hasn’t been long but this garden knows it is abandoned. It will be a long time now before anyone will pay it any attention.
The window frames are old and some are a little warped. The security is practically non-existent. It only requires a quick bang against the kitchen window. If you know where to direct the force these windows are easy to open.
It is a bit too high for me to reach but the patio chairs are conveniently to hand. When I drag one across the boards it carves a trail of clean wood on the mossy surface and the wood on the chair arm is damp and spongy. It holds my weight though and I can lean through the window and turn the key in the lock. If I was still working on this case I would have someone on the carpet for leaving the key in the lock. It is such a careless thing to do but it has played into my hands beautifully. There is a lock at the top of the door and for a while I am juggling with a metal stake before it slides back. There we are, the door is unlocked, and I tread gently into the kitchen.
Inside smells of disuse and decay. Someone will have to empty the cupboards here and the fridge. It could be a long time before anyone comes back to care for this place and all of the beauty will be spoiled by then. It would be better for it to be knocked down. That’s not my concern at the moment.
I pass through to the hall on my way to her study. How familiar it all is, there isn’t much disturbance. A few papers are discarded on a chair and the drawers of the desk are open and have been emptied. There is a strong stale smell coming from the vases of flowers which have died and tainted the water.
I search for her diary but find nothing. From the dearth of documentation I assume that a lot of her records have been taken away. If they’re in the office at the police station they’re beyond my reach.
In the lounge are more dead flowers, more stinking water and the place has a fine covering of dust. How she would hate this, Amy, so house-proud, finicky even.
I flop onto the settee and lay my head back against the cushions. It feels cold and it’s smelly and unpleasant and I shouldn’t be here. My eyes are heavy, it’s hard to keep them open. It’s an age since I had any real sleep, I sink into the darkness and let it claim me.
Chapter 37
I stretch my legs under the warmth of the Duvet and poke at my pillow. Without really emerging from sleep my mind registers a strangeness. Where’s my other pillow? On the floor or pushed up against the headboard? I fumble a
bove my head, still lost in my sleepy fug. No it’s not there, on the floor then. With a sigh and a lazy shuffle I trail an arm over the edge of the bed and search with my fingertips. Damn, still no pillow.
On the verge of turning and leaning out of bed to find it, my senses climb to another level. I hold my breath as my body freezes. This isn’t my bed, no need to open my eyes, this just isn’t my space. Above that knowledge lays another even more frightening, I’m not alone. A thrill of fear trickles along my arms and down my back. I open my eyes a tiny slit and roll my eyeballs sideways. Where the hell is this?
Some sense of self-preservation has overtaken me and kept me immobile as I force my thoughts back to the last memory. I was in Amy’s house and I had plonked down on the settee for a moment. That’s the last thing that I remember. Is this another blackout like the one that landed me in the woods? If it is, where has my unconscious self taken me now?
I hear breathing. I peer through the dim light. A tall figure is outlined in the light from the partly opened doorway.
“Christ.” I jar my neck shooting upwards in the bed. Amy has moved into my room from the landing.
“Hush now, it’s okay, don’t be afraid. I heard you cry out in your sleep and came to make sure that you were alright.”
“Amy, no that’s not you. Amy.”
“Of course it’s me, why who else would it be? Are you alright? Were you dreaming? Shall I bring you a drink? Water, warm milk?”
My hand is scrabbling desperately at my side for the lamp on the bedside table. “Amy, you’re dead, it’s not you. What the hell is this? Shit, where’s the light?”
“My goodness Hannah, you have had a nasty dream. I’m sorry my dear I forgot to plug in the light, here let me turn the room light on for you.”
“NO.” I didn’t want to see her, she can’t be here. This is a dream, it has to be a dream. I fling myself from the bed. This is Amy’s house, the room that she had prepared for me. My perfume on the dressing table and a cream shawl just like mine laid on the end of the bed. I look down, I am fully dressed, I even have my shoes on. What the hell am I doing in bed with my shoes on?
WHO FOLLOWS: a gripping, dramatic, intense and suspenseful thriller Page 8
