by Tania Carver
Marina looked surprised at the question. ‘Yes,’ she said.
‘What kind?’
‘The criminal kind.’
‘Oh.’ Bailey looked surprised, then gave a tight smile. ‘And are you here to psychoanalyse me?’
Marina kept her face still, stony. She leaned forward very slightly. ‘I don’t know. Are you a criminal?’
Bailey laughed. It seemed to break the tension in the room for him. ‘Very funny. Good.’
‘Are you going to answer the question?’ asked Marina.
‘Which question?’
‘Your car,’ said Phil.
‘Oh, that.’ Bailey sat back, scrutinising them once more. ‘In the garage. I said.’ Getting angry.
‘I know you said that. So can we check with —’
Bailey cut Phil off. ‘Of course.’ He turned back to Marina. Pointed. ‘You interest me,’ he said. ‘You being here. I didn’t think this kind of thing happened outside of TV dramas.’
Marina ignored his words. ‘What made you become a counsellor, Mr Bailey? A marriage counsellor in particular?’
Bailey smiled. ‘Because I’m good at it,’ he said.
‘Are you?’ asked Marina.
‘Yes,’ he said, warming to the theme. ‘I am. Or at least I like to think so.’
‘How did you find out that you were good at it? At advising people about their marriages? What made you go into it? Was there a specific incident? Some trigger?’
Phil sat back, didn’t interrupt. Let her go.
Bailey gave a self-effacing shrug. ‘I… It was just something I was always good at. Friends were always telling me their problems. I must have that kind of face. I was always sought out.’ He laughed. ‘Sought. Funny word, that, isn’t it?’
‘And an interesting choice, too,’ said Marina. ‘Implies that you had all the answers. Your friends had all the questions.’
He smiled. What can I say? Still trying to be self-effacing, but his body language spoke the words for him.
‘Because,’ continued Marina, ‘most people come to do this kind of thing through personal experience. A bad marriage, rough relationship. A counsellor helped them, inspired them to retrain. Happens with Samaritans too. Nurses, even. An involved response. But you’re not saying that. Your motivation was because you were good at it.’
‘Yes. What’s wrong with that?’
Marina nodded, as if his words confirmed her theories. ‘Dare I say it, that’s quite an arrogant thing to believe, don’t you think?’
Whatever traces of affability had been on Bailey’s face dried up. He stared at her. He didn’t get the chance to respond. Phil spoke first.
‘So let me get this straight. Your friends were coming to see you for advice about relationships,’ he said, as innocuously as possible.
‘That’s right. Nothing wrong with that.’ Bailey sounded hurt.
‘Nothing at all,’ said Phil. ‘But I just want to be clear. Was this before or after the rape allegations?’
Bailey froze. Stared.
Phil kept at him. ‘Before or after? Just clarifying.’
‘You’ve done your homework.’ A small, dry voice.
‘We have. University, wasn’t it? Hull? Not just once. I mean, once and it could have – possibly – been swept away as a misunderstanding. Possibly. But twice? Two allegations? From different women? That’s more than just coincidence, don’t you think? That seems to me like a pattern emerging.’ He turned to Marina. Making eye contact with her fully for the first time since they had entered the room. ‘What would you say? Your professional opinion?’
Marina nodded. ‘A pattern, definitely.’
Bailey still said nothing, just stared.
Phil continued. ‘So what happened? What turned this fledgling, wannabe rapist into someone doling out relationship advice.’
‘Sought for relationship advice,’ Marina said.
‘Thank you,’ said Phil, making eye contact with her once more, ‘Sought. What happened?’
Bailey still stared.
80
Hugh Ellison stared at his desk. The room seemed smaller and shabbier than ever.
He was finding it hard to concentrate. He knew he shouldn’t be there. Somewhere else had a stronger call on him. The investigation into Gemma Adderley’s death. That was where he should be.
That was his chance. His last chance, possibly, to be taken seriously, to get back on the ladder. If he could have just managed to squeeze a confession out of Roy Adderley, got him to admit what he had done, he would have been happy. Not just happy, vindicated. That would have shown the higher-ups what he was made of. That he didn’t deserve to be stuck in this backwater, that he should be out and about, in MIS, high-flying with the other high-flyers. That was what he should have done. And it had been playing on his mind all morning.
Even if Adderley hadn’t done it. Didn’t matter. That wasn’t the point. There was circumstantial evidence, a false statement He could have worked on that, built it up. For Christ’s sake, the CPS had brought things to trial that had a much slimmer chance of a conviction.
But no. The case had been taken off him. Given to the golden boys. And girls. His stomach curdled at the thought. Bile rising. And girls.
Brennan had got Adderley to confess to his girlfriend’s murder but not his wife’s. Well, great for Brennan. But Ellison should have been in the room with him. He should have been the one to get him to open up. To take the acclaim for that.
And then there was Brennan’s wife. But that was a whole other part of his mind. He pushed her away from his thoughts: that wasn’t what this was about.
But it was hard to do. He’d seen the way she had looked at him when he walked into their offices yesterday. They way all those bitches had looked at him. The black one, that dyke Cotter and Marina herself. They’d made him feel unwelcome even before he had spoken. Looked at him like he was a piece of shit. And having to turn round, leave the room while he knew they were all watching him had been fucking humiliating.
Fucking humiliating.
That hurt too. All wrapped up with everything else. Turning him into a ball of spite and rage.
He sat back, sighed. Tried to bring himself under control. Thought of last night. Smiled.
That had been good. Revenge. Sweet, sweet revenge. He felt his body tingle once more at the thought of it.
Hadn’t been so much fun when he got home, though. The arguments that had followed, the tears. The abuse hurled at him, all his years of failings laid bare. In the end he had walked out. Gone to a Travelodge. He didn’t have to take that shit. Not from anyone. Especially after the night he had just had.
Sublime.
He sat there thinking of what he could do. How he could relive the delicious thrills of the night before over and over in his mind, keeping him going for the rest of the boring day until he was free to do something about it once more.
Living for later.
81
‘You’re a couple,’ Bailey said. ‘Together.’
Phil frowned. Not the answer he had been expecting. ‘Nicely deflected,’ he said with a grim smile. ‘Are you going to answer the question?’
‘You’re a couple,’ continued Bailey, ‘but… you’re not together. Am I right?’ A small smile of triumph.
‘You were listening to us talk in the waiting room,’ said Marina. ‘You’ll already know the answer to that one. Try again.’
‘Or try answering my question,’ said Phil, his voice hard, flinty.
‘You’re separated,’ said Bailey, continuing as if they hadn’t spoken. ‘Living apart, at least. But it’s not…’ He gestured towards them. ‘There’s eye contact. You looked at each other. That’s good, that’s a positive sign.’
Phil sighed. ‘I’ve had enough of this. If you don’t —’
‘Eye contact,’ said Bailey, ‘yet your body language is all wrong. Look at you.’ He pointed towards Marina. ‘You’re stiff, pulling away from him. Arm on the opposite side o
f the chair. You softened slightly when he looked at you. There was depth in that look. Softness and warmth. You returned it, too, didn’t you?’
Phil stood up. ‘Mr Bailey —’
‘This won’t take a moment,’ said Bailey. ‘Please sit down.’ He smiled, attempting to regain control.
Phil looked down at Marina. She wasn’t looking at him; she was studying Bailey. Recognising that she was up to something, Phil sat once more.
Bailey seemed to take the gesture as an indication that he had won a battle of wills. Emboldened, he continued. ‘And your body language, Detective Inspector, it’s just as indicative. You aren’t pulling away. You’re leaning in, reaching towards her. Attempting to draw her back. But she won’t come back, will she? She’s pulled away and she’s staying away. I wonder why that is?’
Anger welled inside Phil. He could feel it rising, looking for escape. Marina reached across, placed her hand calmly over his. Startled, he sat back.
Bailey noticed the gesture. Smiled. ‘Touching now. That’s progress, isn’t it? Very quick.’ He laughed. ‘You’ve only had one session with me. And it isn’t even over yet.’
Phil was trying to stand. Marina increased the pressure on his hand, stopping him. He stayed where he was. For now.
‘So why are you still separated?’ Bailey made a play of stroking his chin, thinking. ‘No, don’t tell me.’
Neither of them answered.
‘Not infidelity,’ said Bailey. ‘I think we can rule that out. Unusual, though. That’s generally the reason.’ He sat forward. ‘This is becoming interesting. I think we can rule out work, because you work together. Or you are in this instance, so you know what the other one has to go through. Hmm…’
‘Something came between us,’ said Marina.
Bailey’s eyes lit up. ‘I knew it.’
‘Not hard to work out,’ said Marina. ‘Given that you’ve established we’re separated and it’s not one of the other two things.’
‘Yes,’ said Bailey, ‘but what was it that separated you? That’s the interesting bit.’
Marina glanced at Phil. He was staring straight ahead, looking like he wanted to attack the counsellor. She returned her attention to Bailey.
‘Something threatening,’ she said. ‘Something big and threatening. Something we had no control over.’
Bailey sat forward. ‘I’m intrigued.’
‘Marina…’ Phil’s voice held a warning.
Marina ignored him, sat back, the ghost of a smile on her face. ‘That’s as much as you’re getting.’
Bailey also sat back, thinking. ‘Big and threatening… Must have been very big, very threatening to split you up.’
‘Oh, it was. It is.’
‘And it’s still there? Still hanging over you? Stopping you from getting back together? Not infidelity, not pressure of work or lack of it, not illness, not money troubles, not falling out of love with each other. An outside influence. Big enough to split you up.’ Eyes fluttering, his head went back.
Marina was aware of Phil trying to look at her. She kept her gaze firmly on Bailey.
Eventually his head snapped forward. ‘Fear,’ he said.
‘Fear,’ repeated Marina.
‘Yes, fear.’ Bailey nodded as if he had just solved Fermat’s Last Theorem. ‘You see, it doesn’t matter what it was, this big and threatening thing; all I need to know about it is what it did. What it caused to happen between you. Fear. That’s all. That’s what split you apart. Fear.’ He looked at them, jubilation in his eyes. ‘Am I right? I am, aren’t I?’
Marina glanced at Phil. He returned the look. Marina felt something comforting in it, something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel for a long time. Hope.
Bailey noticed it too. He smiled. ‘Fear. What’s that? Really, what is it?’ He leaned forward, making sure neither of them missed the importance of his next few words. ‘Nothing. That’s what it is. Nothing. Fear is…’ He shrugged. ‘What? Ourselves, or part of ourselves, holding back the rest of ourselves, the bigger and better parts. That’s all it is. Feel the fear and do it anyway? A cliché, but it’s true.’ Still leaning forward, hands clasped together, eyes on the pair of them. ‘You have to face your fear. Confront it. Only then can you…’ his hands became agitated; he turned one into a fist, hammered it down into the palm of the other, ‘destroy it. Dismiss it. See it for what it is, get rid of it.’ He frowned. ‘What is it you fear? No, you don’t have to tell me the actual thing. Just what it involves. The physical process of this fear. A fear so horrendous that it separated the two of you.’
‘A sudden attack,’ said Marina. ‘One we’re not prepared for.’
Bailey nodded, expression sympathetic. ‘I see. Right. Of course.’ He looked at her once more. ‘But you can’t live your lives like that, can you? It’s not helping. What will you have if you do that? I’ll tell you. Regrets. For not taking chances. For not conquering your fear, for not taming it, for letting it dictate and ruin your lives. So face it. Embrace it, even. And live.’
Marina nodded.
But Bailey wasn’t finished. ‘Because only then can you fully be yourselves.’ He nodded, pleased with himself. ‘Only then can you be the people you want to be. Should be. Deserve to be.’
He sat back. Finished.
Marina nodded as if she had taken it all in, was digesting his wisdom.
‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘You’re welcome.’ Bailey was beaming.
‘Just one thing,’ said Marina, face innocently quizzical.
‘Yes?’ he said.
‘What is it you fear? Is it those women who said no all those years ago?’
The smile faded from Bailey’s face. ‘What…’
‘Are they still after you?’ Marina kept going. ‘Do they still haunt you? When you close your eyes, do you see them? And what are they saying to you? No, Keith, please don’t, Keith, I don’t want to, Keith… something like that?’
Bailey’s eyes widened. He began looking round the room as if frantically seeking an exit. His face became a mask of fear.
But Marina wasn’t letting go. ‘Is that why you do this, Keith? Really why you do this? Not because you’re good at it, or people sought you out, none of that. You speak to people at their most vulnerable, try to fix them. Am I right? Is that a fair description?’
Bailey didn’t reply.
‘Are you really just trying to fix yourself, is that it? Trying to find out what went wrong? With them. With you. Trying to find it and fix it?’
Bailey said nothing. He seemed close to tears.
Marina leaned forward, eyes locked on to his. Never leaving them no matter how hard he tried to pull away. ‘Are you still trying to put the ghosts to rest, is that it, Keith? What other ghosts do you see?’
She sat back. Glanced at Phil. He nodded.
‘What do you know about the murder of Detective Constable Avi Patel last night?’
Bailey shook his head.
‘What do you know about the abduction of Detective Constable Imani Oliver?’
Bailey clamped his eyes shut.
‘Or about the murder and abduction of Janine Gillen, and Gemma Adderley, and —’
Bailey stood up. ‘Get out. Get out now…’ gesturing, pointing frantically at the door. ‘‘How dare you, how… fucking dare you…’
Phil opened his mouth to speak again. Bailey jumped in first.
‘You want to talk to me, you do it through my solicitor. Now get out.’
He grabbed Phil, tried to hurl him towards the door.
Phil and Marina stumbled through, heard the door slamming behind them. They heard a further noise as Bailey slumped down against it.
As they walked away, they were sure they could hear sobbing.
82
Phil and Marina got back into the Audi. Neither spoke or even looked at each other as they left the building.
Phil put the key in the ignition, made to turn it. Stopped. Looked at Marina.
She see
med to consider looking away, but something stronger won. She turned, looked at him too.
‘You were great in there,’ he said.
She smiled. ‘You weren’t so bad yourself.’
Their eyes were locked. Eventually Phil pulled away. Her gaze made him feel naked.
‘What d’you think?’ he said.
Marina frowned. Puzzled. ‘About what?’
‘Him. Keith Bailey. Reckon he’s our guy?’
‘I’d say he goes straight to the top of the leaderboard. Evasive, narcissistic, delusional… all the boxes ticked.’
‘Still wouldn’t answer a direct question,’ said Phil. ‘Hardly a criminal mastermind.’
‘Doesn’t need to be,’ said Marina. ‘He’s got away with it until now.’
‘Right,’ said Phil. ‘Back to the station. Get the wheels in motion. Talk to Cotter. See about bringing him in.’
‘You going to charge him?’
Phil hesitated. ‘I’ll talk to Cotter. Last person I charged, well… that didn’t go too well, did it? I have to make sure all the t’s and i’s are crossed and dotted.’
Marina nodded. ‘No time for that. If it is him and he thinks we’re on to him and he’s got Imani, then we should move quickly. Like I said, he’s coming to the end of his cycle. If it seems like he’s not going to get the chance to complete it, he might step things up a gear. Or two.’
‘Tell that to Cotter, then. Back me up.’
Marina smiled. ‘Always.’
Phil turned, looked at her. And before he knew what was happening, his arms were round her, hers around him. They held each other tight, neither speaking. Phil’s hands stroked Marina’s body through her coat, feeling the familiar contours. Slow. Reverential. Privileged to be doing it, savouring it, like it was an experience he thought he would have again. She was doing the same with him. He knew what she was thinking.
They pulled apart slightly, looked at each other. And there was that gaze again. That naked gaze.
‘I’ve missed —’
‘Sshh,’ said Marina. ‘Talk later.’
She moved her face closer to his. Opened her mouth.
