by Ellis, Tim
‘And who else was in there with you?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I think we’ve found the source of the problem. In your nightmares Inspector Parish never comes to rescue you, does he?’
She burst into tears. ‘No, he never comes. Why doesn’t he come for me, Doctor?’
‘That’s the question we’ll be exploring next time. I think we’ve made significant progress this time, Mary.’
‘Does that mean I can stop coming to see you soon?’
‘Let’s not run before we can walk. We still have a lot of work to do.’
She stood up. ‘I feel wide awake.’
‘Good. Now, I don’t want you to watch the Crime Channel anymore. If you disobey me this time I’ll take you off active duty.’
‘No, please don’t do that, Doctor. Inspector Parish needs me.’
‘I want you to tell Inspector Parish that he has to disconnect your television.’
‘What, all of it?’
‘Otherwise you’ll be tempted.’
‘I promise I won’t.’
‘You know the consequences if you don’t do as I’ve asked, Mary.’
‘But...’ Her shoulders slumped. ‘If I have to.’
‘You do have to. We’ve finished taking one pace forward and two paces backwards. From now on we’re moving forward only.’
‘Yes, Doctor.’
She made her way out into the Reception.
‘About time, Richards. Have you been snoring for England again?’
‘No.’ She started sobbing again. ‘You didn’t find me.’
Dr Suresh signalled for him to go into his office.
‘You sit down and wait for me, Richards. I won’t be a minute.’
‘What’s going on, Doctor?’
‘I think we found the problem this afternoon. In her nightmares, you never come to rescue her from Ruben.’
‘But... Toadstone and I saved her.’
‘In reality that might be the case, but in her mind she was never rescued. It’s something we’ll work on over the coming months. Also...’
‘Yes?’
‘She says there was someone else in the room with her – hiding in the shadows.’
‘Like who?’
‘We don’t know yet. It could all be in her mind, or it could be true. Could there have been anybody else in that room with her?’
‘Not when we got there. I had my suspicions that Ruben wasn’t working alone, but there was no evidence to suggest a second person.’
‘It might very well be in her imagination only. Let’s see how things materialise.’
‘Okay Doc, thanks.’
Dr Suresh nodded and he returned to the reception.
‘Right, Richards, stop blubbering and let’s get back to the station before everybody goes home.’
Chapter Twenty
She’d been for a walk until her legs had turned to jelly. She’d had sex until the thought of it made her gag. She’s eaten spicy foods until she thought she was a Mexican. She’d drunk raspberry leaf tea until she knew there were no raspberry leaves left in Chigwell. She’d bounced on her birthing ball until she felt sick as a pig. She’d tweaked her nipples until they swelled up and throbbed, and this morning she’d spent nearly an hour in a hot bath until she looked like a prune. Her waters remained intact. None of it had brought on her labour. She was going to be pregnant forever. The alien didn’t want to come out. It would just carry on growing until she was twenty stone and would then need a crane to help her get out of bed.
Sighing, she put the kettle on. Trust Jed to get involved with P2 again when she was about to give birth. Hopefully he’d be back before the crane arrived. Maybe the doctors would have to induce her. Maybe it was all down to Jed suggesting that she hang onto the baby until Sunday morning, so that it was born on Christmas day. Maybe that suggestion had lodged itself in her psyche, and the auto-programme couldn’t be reset.
There was a knock on the front door. Digby barked and ran into the hall with his tail wagging.
‘It’s all right, boy.’
Who was out on a day like today? It was nearly a whiteout outside. Maybe the Jehovah’s Witnesses were trying to get as many conversions as they could before the end of the world arrived.
She put the chain on and opened the door a crack. ‘Yes?’
There was a woman in a military-style parka. The hood was up. She looked familiar, but she also looked as though she was in shock.
‘Please... it’s my baby.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘My baby’s in the back of the car. I think she’s dying... please help me?’
Angie removed the chain and opened the door. ‘I’m a nurse, show me.’
She followed the woman out into the freezing cold and swirling snow to a Range Rover parked half on the pavement. The woman opened the rear door. There was a wicker crib at the other side of the back seat. With her help she climbed inside.
The distraught mother also climbed into the driver’s seat facing backwards on her knees.
But when Angie looked in the crib, all she saw was a plastic doll. As she turned to question the mother she felt a sharp pain in the side of her neck. Her blood ran cold. She tried to climb out of the vehicle, but her arms and legs wouldn’t work.
Oh God, the baby.
Blackness engulfed her as she fell on top of the baby’s crib.
The baby... Oh God, the baby...
***
Karen Kincaid closed the back door of the Range Rover, and then returned to Angie Parish’s house. The stupid dog cocked its head to the side and stared at her as if it knew what she was doing.
‘Get in, mutt,’ she said, and kicked it inside with her boot as she pulled the front door shut.
It was so easy.
She walked back to the Range Rover and climbed inside. The weather was bad. It would make the journey back to the house slow, but once she was there she’d have the time to do what was necessary.
Starting the car, she leaned forward to better see through the windscreen, and pulled onto the road. Under normal circumstances, she probably would have used the B170 towards Buckhurst Hill, but there was a real danger of getting stuck on B roads. Instead, she decided to use the A113 up to the junction with the A1009, then across the William Girling Reservoir on the A104 to the A110, and then it wasn’t far to Wormley and home.
***
‘What did Doctor Suresh say to you?’
‘He said you’d made progress, and he was pleased you didn’t fall asleep this time.’
‘Did he say that he hypnotised me?’
‘No, he didn’t say that.’
She leaned forward in the seat and took deep breaths. ‘What’s wrong with me? I watch every programme there is about serial killers. I’ve read every book that’s been written about them, and none of it bothers me, but the one time one catches me I turn into a complete wreck.’
‘Up close and personal is a bit different than watching it on the television, or reading about it in books. And you’re not a complete wreck... just a bit of one.’
‘Do you think I’ll ever be normal again?’
‘Normal is overrated. In fact, what is normal?’
‘You’re normal. My mum’s normal.’
‘You think I’m normal, do you? After the childhood I had, and doing the job I do? People make their way through life by using strategies to cope with what they have to deal with. Most live humdrum lives and are what you might call “normal”, but you know from experience that there are some crazy “normal” people out there. You’re as “normal” as the next person, Richards. What you’re going through is just a temporary interruption in transmission. Between you, Doctor Suresh, and me we’ll put you back together again. Ruben’s dead – you know that. Toadstone and I rescued you – you also know that. Your nightmares are about what might have happened, which will never happen. We just have to get your sleeping brain to accept the truth.’
‘I suppos
e.’
‘And you suppose correctly. Am I ever going to let you fall?’
She forced a smile. ‘It’s icy out there.’
Smiling back he said, ‘And there are snowballs just waiting to be thrown.’
‘No, you won’t let me fall.’
He squeezed her hand. ‘You can trust me... always.’
‘I know.’
They arrived back at the station at four forty. Kowalski and Lola were in the squad room. He sent Richards to find Sergeant John McGregor – the Police Benevolent Fund representative – to give him the anonymous donation, and then take the pool car back.
‘We saw you on the news, Parish,’ Kowalski said. ‘Is it me, or are you beginning to look like a young Harrison Ford?’
He sat down in his chair and put his feet on the desk. ‘I said as much to Richards earlier, but she wasn’t convinced.’
Lola waddled over and yanked a hair from his head.
‘Ow! Do you mind?’
‘Lola have a spell to make you handsome.’
‘I’m already handsome.’
‘Telling people you’re handsome ain’t gonna get you very far, especially when you bordering on ugly, I can tell you. But seeing as you helped me ‘come a de-tek-tive, I’m prepared to help you back this one time.’ She rolled her eyes upwards and began to chant:
‘Moonshine, starlight,
Let the wind carry your light,
Let your glow cover his body,
And let your shine cover every eye.
Moonshine, starlight,
Shape and mold his body,
As a rose is granted beauty,
Let him blossom in your light,
The light that brings your beauty,
And grant him beauty three times three.
So mote it be!
‘Course I got to do it proper under the moonlight tonight, but we done enough to let the spirits know they got their work cut out with you.’
‘Thanks, Lola.’
‘You welcome.’
‘I hope nobody is performing voodoo rituals in my squad room?’ the Chief said standing in the doorway.
‘Absolutely not, Chief,’ Kowalski said. ‘Lola was simply explaining how she was going to make Parish handsome for Christmas.’
‘You’ve set yourself up to fail, Constable Laveque.’
‘Excuse me, but the already handsome DI parish is sitting here, you know.’
‘That’s debatable. Come and brief me.’
He followed her along the corridor to her office.
After she’d made him coffee she said, ‘I’m confused. One minute you had nothing, the next the killer is dead.’
‘Yes, I can see how that might happen. Richards and I went to the Toxic Club in Harlow, which is owned by a Russian called Boris Zakayev.’
‘I’ve heard of him.’
‘Well, he wanted to know why we were hassling him when he paid the police so much money.’
‘Surely not?’
‘Why would he lie? Anyway, after he decided he wasn’t going to kill us, he was very co-operative.’
‘Oh?’
‘But I had to accept ten thousand pounds, which Richards is donating to the Police Benevolent Fund as we speak.’
‘You accepted a bribe?’
‘It was either that, or get myself measured for a body bag. He’s obviously paying the police in Harlow a lot of money to be left alone.’
‘So, what happened?’
‘Once I agreed not to involve him, he gave me a name and address.’
‘And this man committed suicide before you could arrest him?’
‘No. Zakayev sent someone round to silence him before Richards and I got there. I know, you’re thinking I should go and arrest Zakayev and all his cronies, and close down his operation.’
‘Stop reading my mind.’
‘Two things would have happened if I’d done that. First, and the more serious of the two, would have been me ending up dead. The bribe would obviously indicate I was a dirty cop and deserved everything I got. Second, Zakayev would have walked free – with his business intact – within a couple of hours. Some things can’t be changed without a sustained effort. Richards and I riding in there like the Lone Ranger and Tonto wasn’t going to change anything. I wanted the killer, and that’s what I got. I’m sure that Zakayev will get his just deserts in the future, which won’t involve Richards and I getting killed.’
‘Another good job. The Chief Constable will be pleased.’
‘It’ll be short lived. I’m sure he won’t be too pleased when he sees that we’ve published his name as a member of P2.’
‘No... Are you ready to go?’
‘As soon as Richards comes back, and we collect Catherine. You know Kowalski isn’t coming with us now?’
‘Yes. He’s struggling to find his suspect. He could do with some of your luck.’
‘Luck! Solid investigative police work, you mean.’
They agreed to meet in the car park in fifteen minutes. He finished his coffee and went back to the squad room.
Richards was sitting at her desk.
‘Where are Kowalski and Lola?’
‘The vehicle they’ve been looking for has been recorded at a petrol station in Chigwell, so they’ve gone over there.’
‘Okay. Are you ready?’
‘Whenever you are.’
He trudged to the toilet. On his way back he phoned Angie, but it was diverted to voicemail. He wondered where she was that she couldn’t answer the phone. Maybe... No, she would have phoned him. He’d try again at the train station.
***
She reversed the Range Rover up to the front door again, and used a blanket to drag Angie Parish along the hallway and down the cellar steps. She smiled as the back of the bitch’s head bounced on every step – it was like a scene from a Disney cartoon.
‘My God, Karen,’ the midwife said. ‘You must stop this crazy behaviour before somebody dies.’
She dragged Angie Parish’s body up to the wall and locked the metal collar around her neck. But before she slipped the heavy chain through the ring on the wall she swung it at Hollingsworth’s head. The thick links wrapped around her face, tore the side of her mouth open, and broke three of her teeth.
‘People have already died you stupid bitch, and you’ll be next if you don’t shut the fuck up and do exactly as I say.’
The midwife was screeching like a banshee, and holding her hands up to her broken face as blood seeped through her fingers. ‘Oh God, what have you done? Oh God, please...’
She threatened the bitch with the chain again. It went very quiet.
Angie Parish moaned.
She quickly chained her to the wall and slipped a lock through the terminal links.
‘Ah, our special guest is waking up.’ She turned to the bleeding Hollingsworth and smiled.
‘What’s happening? Where am I?’
‘What’s happening is that you’re going to give birth, midwife Hollingsworth is going to make sure everything goes according to plan, and I’m going to keep your baby. Where we are is irrelevant, but I can tell you that nobody can hear you scream, and nobody will ever find your bodies.’
Angela Parish struggled against the metal collar, and pulled at the chain on the wall, but nothing changed.
‘Struggle all you want, you’re not going anywhere.’
‘Who the hell are you?’
‘You don’t remember me, do you?’
‘Should I? I don’t know any mentally deranged people.’
She laughed. Once that baby was out of the bitch she’d smash her pretty, sarcastic face into the concrete. ‘That’s the trouble with people like you, you never remember the people you tread on to reach where you’re going.’
‘I don’t...’
‘My name was Karen Weston, before I married a womanising bastard called Kincaid.’ Her eyes focused somewhere beyond the cellar wall. ‘They’re all dead now though... all dead.’ She gritted her tee
th and clenched her fists. Her eyes re-focused. ‘All the people who hurt me are dead, and you will be soon too.’
‘I don’t remember you.’
‘You stole Andy Richards off me by getting pregnant. He was my boyfriend, and you stole him. You had the baby I should have had. Well, now I’m going to take back what should have been mine all those years ago.’
She began to rock back and forth on her heels. Out of her mouth came a strange lullaby:
Star light,
Star bright,
First star
I see tonight
I wish I may,
I wish I might,
Have this wish
I wish tonight.
***
They left the police station as previously agreed at six thirty, and collected Catherine from Dirty Nellie’s on the way. Parish and Richards were in his Ford Focus, and Catherine went with the Chief in her Saab 93. She wasn’t too pleased about travelling with the Chief, but as Parish suggested, ‘Maybe if you ask some questions about P2, you might get some answers.’
Catherine’s eyes narrowed. ‘Will you answer my questions?’ she said to the Chief.
‘I don’t see why I shouldn’t. It’s not as if I’m going to be too worried about my career after this, is it?’
It was quarter to eight when they arrived at Loughton station to catch the tube to London. Parish took the rucksack out of the boot. In it he’d stashed enough food and drink to feed a family of four for ten days, two torches, wet wipes, disposable handkerchiefs, a couple of plastic bags, and a number of other things a scout would never leave behind – did dib dib.
The rush hour was over. Commuters had returned to their rural havens from the madness of the city. The station was deserted.
They bought tickets to Holborn on the Circle Line. It was a straightforward journey. Both stations were on the same line.
Parish moved away from the others. They were sitting on a wooden bench with “London Underground” stamped in the centre of the backrest beneath the gull-winged shaped canopies on the platform. He walked beyond the canopies along the snow-covered platform and phoned Angie again. The call diverted to voicemail. He left another message. God, he hoped everything was all right. Maybe she’d been rushed to the hospital. Maybe she’d had the baby already. If she were in the hospital they wouldn’t let her use her mobile phone. They’d make her switch it off. After giving birth she was probably exhausted and sleeping like a baby. Probably didn’t feel up to phoning him from the maternity ward pay phone. Maybe he should go to the hospital instead.
