Wanda tugged at the trousers and knickers, and let out a sharp intake of breath.
‘What is it?’ Megan asked in panic, unable to turn and see what was there.
Wanda suddenly appeared next to Megan’s head, speaking slowly. ‘Sweetie, I need you to tell me everything you remember about last night.’
‘I told you, I had too much to drink and I have a black spot in my memory.’
The voice remained slow and tremulous. ‘Okay, what’s the very last thing you remember? Do you remember how you got home?’
‘No, I told you: I saw Janice open her front door and then the taxi pulled away. Why? What’s back there?’
Wanda was grinding her teeth, willing herself to spit out the words. ‘Who bought your drinks at the pub? Did you leave your drink unattended at any point?’
‘What? No, we were all drinking cocktails out of fish bowls. We all had the same. Wanda, you’re really starting to freak me out.’
Wanda tried to force a reassuring smile, but it came off more like a grimace. ‘What about after the pub? Did you drink anything else that you remember?’
‘No, I don’t think...’ but suddenly something flashed in her mind’s eye. ‘Wait, yes, the taxi driver said I looked like I might be sick, and then he offered me a drink from his bottle of mineral water. He seemed sweet.’
Wanda’s eyes were welling. ‘Oh gosh, Megan, I really wish I wasn’t the one to have to tell you this – and I’m certainly no expert – but I think someone attacked you last night. I saw the blood stains on the sheets.’
‘Attacked me? Attacked me how?’
A single tear escaped and rolled along Wanda’s cheek. ‘I think...I think you were raped.’
FIFTY-FIVE
He didn’t know why he’d come here. He needed to talk the case over with someone; someone who understood how it could take lots of small, seemingly insignificant clues to solve the biggest puzzle. Someone who was smart and eager-enough not to laugh in his face, and judge him for even thinking the three cases could be linked.
‘Penny for them?’ Annie Lockwood grunted from behind the oxygen mask covering her mouth and nose.
She’d been flat out on the bed when he’d arrived, no sign of any other visitors, so he’d made the assumption she was sleeping and had sat down. He’d been playing scenarios through his mind for twenty minutes or so.
He looked up, trying not to grimace at her purple and swollen face. ‘Gianni Versace called and asked if you were free to do a photo-shoot this weekend; he said he needs a burly model for his new fur coat.’
Her chest shook beneath the sheet as she laughed painfully. ‘You dick! Versace’s been dead for years.’
Jake grinned at her. ‘How you feeling? The good news is you can hardly notice that you were kicked in the face. I mean, there’s the odd bump, but nobody will notice if you wear a hat.’
The bed gently shook again. ‘Please don’t make me laugh, it hurts too much.’
Jake nodded his understanding; enough banter. ‘Seriously though, how are you feeling?’
She lowered the mask, and reached for the paddle, raising the head-end of the bed so she could see him better. ‘Sore.’
‘Should you be sat up then?’
I’m supposed to sit up for a few minutes every hour, to ensure the blood keeps pumping or something. I wasn’t really listening. I heard you restored my honour by giving McGregor a good seeing to.’
Jake winced. ‘Not my finest hour, and I didn’t give him what he deserved.’
‘Well, thank you anyway. And I wanted to apologise too. I should have listened, and not chased after him.’
‘Something tells me you’ve learned your lesson.’
‘Tosh stopped by, and said something about Professional Standards wanting to speak to me about my actions. I’m not holding out much hope.’
Jake waved away her concern. ‘You’ll get a rap on the knuckles, nothing more. You were reckless, but only in putting your own safety in jeopardy. You’ll be warned about future conduct, but I’m pretty sure Tosh will keep the wolves at bay. He certainly did for me.’
‘I hope you’re right. Anyway, what’s on your mind? You looked deep in thought when I interrupted.’
‘Don’t worry about it, you need to focus on recuperating.’
‘Are you joking? I’m going out of my mind staring at this dank ceiling. I’m going to be stuck in here for a few days yet. Please, can we talk about something that isn’t my health, flowers, or the weekend weather forecast?’
Jake chuckled. ‘Okay, fair enough. I’ve been investigating what led a sixty year old Mexican to drive his classic Jaguar into a lake and drown himself on Sunday night.’
Annie pulled a face. ‘Suicide by drowning? Wouldn’t be my first choice, but go on.’
‘Well, we’ve learned that his son also committed suicide fifteen years ago, and that Carlos – the latest victim – felt responsible for his son’s death. But what we also found out is, his son was abducted and abused for years before escaping.’
‘So what’s the issue?’
Jake held up a finger to show he was far from finished. ‘I know, it sounds obvious, right? He couldn’t live with the guilt so topped himself. I understand that. But he also received a phone call seconds before he left his home to do it.’
‘And?’
‘And we can’t find the phone. As far as we can fathom from a couple of traffic cameras he passed, he went straight from his home in Lyndhurst to the lake in New Milton, taking twenty minutes to do so. But where is the phone? Why – if he was planning to kill himself – did he go to the effort of discarding the phone?’
‘Maybe there was something on it he didn’t want anyone to see.’
‘Like what? This guy was a hermit. I’ve watched a week of security footage from his home and he only ever left the house to go running. Otherwise he stayed at home sleeping and watching shit on the television. There is no rhyme nor reason as to why and where he discarded the phone.’
She focused on his face. ‘Why is this bothering you so much? Maybe he stopped to give the phone to someone, or maybe he threw it out the window so somebody else could find and use it; but what does it matter? He wanted to kill himself and he did. Surely there are more relevant cases you could be working on?’
She had a fair point, and he couldn’t say why the missing phone bugged him so much, only that it wouldn’t rest easy in his mind.
‘What complicates things,’ he continued, ‘is that this man was attending a bereavement support group, which was also attended by a woman who on Wednesday evening threw herself from the top of the Nelson Gate complex in the centre of town. A third woman at the meeting now claims to have foreseen their deaths in her dreams.’
Annie winced as the bed shook again. ‘Boy, how much you must have missed me! It’s only been a few days and you’re up to your eyes in conspiracy! You’re taking the word of a psychic?’
‘No, of course I’m not,’ he scolded. ‘But she also claims to have foreseen the murder of a colleague of hers who was found stabbed multiple times in the front seat of her car. Tosh suspects the husband, but I’m not so sure this woman isn’t somehow involved in all three deaths.’
‘You’re beginning to sound like one of those late night TV cop shows! Two suicides and a murder of passion? I don’t see how they can be related.’
Jake sighed. ‘Nor me, but I can’t shut off that voice in my head. There’s something we’re missing: a final piece of the jigsaw, but it’s just out of reach.’
‘What does the DCI have to say about all this?’
‘I haven’t told, Tosh, he’d think I was high on something.’
‘And are you?’
He scowled. ‘No I’m bloody not!’
She was about to retort, when his mobile phone interrupted them.
‘You’re not supposed to have that on in here! If the nurse sees, she’ll have your guts for garters.’
Jake ignored her protest and moved away to the sma
ll window overlooking the car park and put the phone to his ear. ‘Yes?’
‘DS Knight? Harry Venables. I’m calling from the office with an update on Andres Xavier.’
Jake held up two fingers, so Annie would know he wouldn’t be long. ‘Go ahead.’
‘I decided to look up the abduction on the HOLMES2 system, sir. There’s loads of information: statements from witnesses, the SIO’s notes on possible suspects, though no potential suspects were ever formally charged. Of course, Ron DeVane wasn’t a known sexual predator at the time so there’s no trace of his name until the boys escaped and left him for dead. But what I thought might interest you relates to Andres’s father, Carlos. It seems that when young Andres went missing he was in his father’s care. They’d travelled to Southampton Common so Andres could play in the park with friends, and it seems Carlos got distracted and when he looked up, Andres was gone. Would certainly explain why he blamed himself for what later happened.’
Jake grunted his agreement.
‘I’ve also managed to locate a mobile phone contract in Carlos’s name, registered to the bungalow in Lyndhurst.’
Jake’s eyes widened. ‘That’s excellent! Have you managed to trace where it is?’
‘Afraid not. It’s not been broadcasting a signal since Sunday night.’
‘But they can see where it was last transmitting, right? Maybe we can comb the area and find it?’
‘Somewhere along the A35, but that’s a long stretch of road to search. The signal is patchy almost as soon as he leaves his house, and according to the signal map the phone company sent over, it does show him on that road, but the signal stops and starts before disappearing altogether halfway into the seven mile journey along it. Even if we only searched the patch where it had stopped broadcasting, that’s three and a half miles, and we don’t know if he just threw it, buried it, or handed it to someone else.’
Jake pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. ‘But if you found the phone number, you must also know the name of the last person to call him, right?’
Harry sighed. ‘I know the number, but it’s a pay-as-you-go mobile, so no name is registered.’
‘But you can see the number and how long the call lasted?’
‘Yes, and I can also tell you which three cell towers the signal of that phone was bouncing between, but it’s slap bang in the middle of the city. Could have originated in Lordshill, Shirley or Totton.’
Jake froze. ‘Lordshill?’
‘Yeah, why you know someone there?’
Jake pictured Megan Hopkirk’s pokey studio flat. ‘Could just be coincidence.’
‘Sir, I’m not sure what else I can tell you about Carlos. He doesn’t have a criminal record, never been arrested from what I can see. He was a stand-up guy, who was having a bad time and decided to call it a day. And to be honest, having read what that family went through, I don’t blame him for going through with it. The guilt must have been overwhelming.’
Jake roared in frustration, knowing that Harry was absolutely right, but still not able to switch off his own cynicism. ‘Okay, Harry, thank you for everything you’ve done. I’ll confirm to Inspector Carlton that we’re done, and will let her know the help you provided.’
‘Ah, really? Thanks, sir, I appreciate the gesture.’
Jake hung up and returned to his seat at the bedside.
‘Bad news?’ Annie asked after a moment.
‘No, not exactly. I’m just letting my imagination get the better of me, that’s all.’ He strained a smile. ‘Have they said when you’ll be up and about, and when you’ll be fit enough to return to work?’
‘They want to monitor me for a few days. Apparently I suffered a collapsed lung during the beating and they need to check no lasting damage has been done. But as soon as I’m out of here, I’ll be looking to get back to it.’ She paused. ‘And I know you have every right to refuse – and I won’t blame you if you do – but I’d like you to keep mentoring me. I swear I won’t screw up again. I’ll take on board your comments and will play by the rules.’
Jake squeezed her hand. ‘I’d be proud to continue, but it may be out of my hands. I think Waverley has his beady little eye on you, and Tosh may decide to separate us. I’ll have a word, but I can’t make any promises.’
‘Thanks, Jake. If you want someone to bounce ideas off again, you know where I’ll be.’
Standing, he took one final look at the consequences of straying off the straight and narrow, before excusing himself and heading out of the door, knowing it was time to tell the boss everything and focus on nailing Janice’s killer.
FIFTY-SIX
Wanda hadn’t stopped fussing since Megan had redressed and asked her to drive her to the appointment. She knew Wanda meant well, and was only being inquisitive, as she was struggling to come to terms with what she had suggested. Megan didn’t want to believe that someone had drugged and then assaulted her. But she couldn’t deny that the bloody scratches, and now obvious scarring below, hadn’t been there yesterday.
A fresh tear rolled down Megan’s cheek, as she continued to stare out of the window. Cars, people, road signs passed by in a blur of activity that she felt detached from. She could just about remember the taxi driver’s appearance. He’d been wearing a hat, or had it been a turban? She couldn’t be sure, but it had been yellow or golden in colour. And he’d had a dark beard; dark with patches of white, similar to Dr Patel’s but longer. But every time she tried to focus on his eyes and nose, the image was snatched away. The memory of her accepting the bottle of water and putting it to her lips was definitely now embedded, but why could she remember nothing after that? Had it tasted strange? Had she commented on that? And how much of the water had she drunk?
Was she even remembering the taxi driver correctly? Was the man she could see the person who’d driven them back to Chandler’s Ford, or someone she’d met afterwards? The image of the yellow-headed figure passing her the bottle was inside a car, she thought, but again the image would be snatched away before she could focus on it.
‘We’re nearly there,’ Wanda commented, and Megan could feel Wanda’s eyes looking over to her again.
What must she think? Rob had been dead for less than three months and his widow had already allowed another man into her bed. That was the hardest thing to accept: that she had betrayed his memory. Although she didn’t ever anticipate meeting anyone like Rob again, she hadn’t totally sworn off the idea of one day having sex again; she wasn’t going to take a vow of chastity for life, but she had allowed herself to be taken advantage of. She couldn’t help thinking that had she not allowed herself to drink the cocktails that she would still be true to her promise to him.
It was all such a mess.
Maybe Janice would still be alive too.
Pulling into a vacant bay further along the road, Wanda helped Megan to carefully climb from the car seat into the waiting wheelchair, and despite Megan’s continued protestations, Wanda insisted on accompanying her up to the Better Health offices. Megan used the lift to reach the first floor, and found Wanda waiting there for her.
‘I know you’re staunchly independent,’ Wanda said, ‘but there is no way I am leaving your side until we get to the bottom of this.’
Megan didn’t want to admit it, but she was glad that Wanda hadn’t retreated at the sight of the scars. Megan needed a friend right now, and Wanda was her unlikely saviour.
The pregnant receptionist was leaning against the counter top at a funny angle, taking deep breaths. She didn’t alter her stance when she saw the two of them, holding up a finger to request their patience, before confirming that she would notify Dr Patel that she had arrived.
Megan wheeled herself to the window staring out at the blanket of grey covering the sky, and wondering when the rain would begin. The heavy drops and thunder from her nightmare felt ever closer, and whether Wanda was right or not, she couldn’t help but fear the prospect of her nightmare once again coming true.
But what
if Wanda was right, and it wasn’t Megan who was being chased through the swamp and forest? What if it had been the dark figure: the detective? Didn’t she have a duty to warn him? He’d been sceptical of her Dream Journal in the flat, but if he realised he was the one in actual danger, would he change his tune? Janice had taken her seriously – well, semi-seriously – but it hadn’t helped keep her alive. But had Janice accepted what Megan had told her, would she still be alive today? Maybe if Megan had insisted on accompanying Janice to the police station, her colleague would still be alive. By that same token, warning DS Knight of the future would allow him to take the necessary steps to avoid forests and swamps.
Megan was still staring out of the window in silence when she suddenly felt the brake being released, and Wanda pushing her towards Dr Patel’s open door. His office was warm and humid, despite the ceiling fan operating at maximum.
‘I’m Megan’s sister-in-law,’ she heard Wanda explaining. ‘If it’s okay with you, I want to sit in on this session.’ A pause as Wanda looked back at Megan before continuing. ‘We think someone may have spiked her drink last night, and...’ Her words trailed off. ‘Is there anything you can do to help restore her memory of events? Like hypnotic regression or something.’
Dr Patel didn’t seem to cotton on to what Wanda was inferring at first, but then he uttered a cautious, ‘Oh. I see.’
Megan couldn’t bring herself to look at him, sensing the pitying stare from the two of them, and wishing she hadn’t come in. Wanda had wanted to drive her straight to the police station, but what would the point be if she couldn’t identify her attacker. How could they hope to find him if she couldn’t? Wiping her eyes with a damp tissue, Megan wished she had been the one to fall from the tower block.
Wanda helped her transfer from the chair to the long sofa, and plumped the cushion before resting it behind Megan’s head.
‘We’ve used suggestive thought therapy to try and unlock you dreams about Rob, Megan, do you remember?’
She nodded, focusing on the ceiling fans rotating blades, and trying to ignore Wanda’s statuesque presence on the seat between them.
Déjà Vu Page 29
