The Colour of the Soul

by Richard T. Burke

Annalise shrugged. “Yeah. His aura seems okay.”

  Chapter 22

  Annalise and her father arrived home after the short journey from the centre of Steadmore to discover a white Ford Mondeo parked on the drive.

  “Who the hell is that?” Dan asked, manoeuvring his blue Volkswagen Golf onto the pavement and blocking the other car in.

  As they walked to the front door, Annalise bent down to peer through the vehicle’s windows, searching for any clues to the owner’s identity. The interior was spotless with no loose clutter on any of the seats.

  She shrugged. “No idea, Dad. Whoever it is, they’re very tidy, though.”

  Dan stood on the doorstep and turned the key in the lock. They had barely crossed the threshold when Sophie hurried towards them, her face pinched with worry. “There’s a policeman here. He wants to speak to Annalise.”

  “I assume it’s about the accident,” Dan said.

  “He wouldn’t say. I gave him a cup of tea. He’s waiting in the lounge.”

  Annalise removed her coat and rested it on the banister. “You never know. It might be about that nurse.”

  Dan grimaced. “Let’s go and find out. Remember, if it is about the crash, don’t tell him anything.”

  As they entered the room, a man in a smart suit rose from the sofa. Even through his formal clothes, his athletic physique was obvious. He stood an inch or two shorter than Dan, putting him somewhere below six feet tall. His hair was black and cut short, tinged with several patches of grey. The man’s brown eyes gazed from a well-balanced face. A thin layer of stubble cast a shadow around his mouth.

  “Detective Chief Inspector Tony Davies,” he announced, extending his hand first to Dan and then to Annalise.

  “Do you have any identification?” Dan asked.

  Davies withdrew a wallet from the jacket pocket and flashed it open to display a grainy-looking photograph below the word POLICE, spelled out in large white letters on a blue background.

  Dan made a point of examining the warrant card. While he did so, Annalise studied the policeman’s aura from the corner of her eye. A cloud of dark, pulsing purple hovered above his head. Dan finished his inspection and directed his attention back to the man.

  “I’m sorry to be suspicious, but we were caught out by two people we assumed were from the police when in fact they weren’t. So what can we do for you, Mr Davies?”

  Davies ignored the question and focused on Annalise.

  “I’m glad to see you’ve finally recovered. I have to say it came as quite a surprise. Your doctors were very pessimistic when I spoke to them ten months ago.”

  “So this is about the accident then?” Dan said, folding his arms.

  “Yes, that’s right. Your mother mentioned you’re suffering from amnesia, Miss Becker—or may I call you Annalise?”

  “I don’t mind. Yeah, I’ve lost all memory from the night before it happened until I woke up from the coma two weeks ago.”

  Dan took a step forwards. “Excuse me, Mr Davies. Is this a formal police interview? Only our lawyer advised us not to say anything without him being present.”

  Davies raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it a bit premature to be talking about lawyers at this stage? No charges have been placed and no, this isn’t a formal interview. I’m just asking about your daughter’s condition. However, if you’d rather, we can have this chat down at the police station with your lawyer present. By the way, who are you using?”

  “Derek Dobson of Pringle and Dobson.”

  Davies frowned. “Yes, I’ve crossed paths with Mr Dobson several times in the past. He doesn’t come cheap though. If you want to spend hundreds of pounds on him listening to us having a little chat ...”

  “It’s alright, Dad,” Annalise said. “Let’s see what he has to say first.”

  The flicker of a smile flashed across the policeman’s face. “Thank you. That’s a very responsible attitude. Just to confirm, you have no memories from the day in question?”

  Annalise shook her head.

  “What is your relationship to the other occupant of the vehicle?”

  “He’s my boyfriend.”

  “Is or was?”

  “Definitely is. In fact, he proposed last week.”

  “Oh, congratulations. Wasn’t that a bit sudden? You’ve been unconscious for a year or so, and within days of waking up he asks you to marry him.”

  “I said no.”

  “I see. But you’re still an item?”

  “I’ve only just been discharged from the hospital, so I’ll let you know. But at this moment in time, the answer to your question is yes. We’re still an item.”

  “Has he discussed the accident with you?”

  Annalise hesitated. “Well ... he explained what happened, but only because I asked him to.”

  “Can you tell me what he said?”

  “Hang on a sec.” Dan stepped between the policeman and his daughter. He lowered his head and spoke in a whisper. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “It’s okay, Dad. Mark has already told the police what he told me.”

  “Go on then, Miss Becker,” Davies said.

  Dan returned to his original position.

  “Apparently we were driving down to Lymington in his new car. The roads were empty. Somewhere near Lyndhurst, I asked if I could drive. We swapped over, my foot slipped and the car collided with another one coming the other way. That’s about it.”

  “Had you driven that car before?”

  “No.”

  “And you weren’t insured?”

  “Not as far as I’m aware.”

  “So you have no memories at all of the accident?”

  “I’m sorry, no. It’s a complete blank.”

  Davies fastened the button on his jacket. “Well, thank you for your time and the cup of tea, Mrs Becker. If you do remember anything, please let me know.”

  He handed a card containing his contact details to Annalise. “We’ll probably need to have you examined by an independent expert—just to confirm the amnesia diagnosis. I’ll be in touch in a few days.”

  “So are you going to prosecute?” Dan asked.

  “It’s not my decision. Ultimately it will come down to the Crown Prosecution Service, but of course, they listen to what we tell them.”

  “So what are you planning to tell them?”

  “I’m afraid it’s too early to say, Mr Becker. We need to look at all the evidence and decide how to proceed. Oh, one last thing. Please don’t leave the country. We’ll want to interview your daughter formally at some point. I could request confiscation of her passport, but I’m sure that won’t be necessary, will it?”

  Dan shook his head. “I shouldn’t think so. We’re not planning on going anywhere.”

  Chapter 23

  Annalise yanked back on the lead. Bisto choked as the collar obstructed his airways but still strained forwards. When he wasn’t pulling, he ranged from one side of the pavement to the other, drawn by the scents emanating from the lampposts and garden walls.

  “Stupid dog,” Annalise muttered. “You obviously haven’t been trained how to walk properly.”

  Sunset had been two hours ago, and the streetlights provided the only source of illumination. As she stared along the road, the glow cast by the orange bulbs created islands of light in a sea of darkness. Patches of brightness poked from around the edge of the curtains in most of the houses adjoining the quiet avenue. At this time of night, nobody else was outside. The sky was clear, and the temperature had fallen rapidly after the sun dropped below the horizon. When she exhaled, a cloud of moisture formed in front of her face. She hunched her shoulders and shivered in the frigid evening air.

  Bisto lunged to the left, the blue material of the leash wrapping around Annalise’s thighs. She took a step back and allowed him to snuffle at a patch of grass. After several seconds of loud snorting, the animal raised a leg and urinated. Within moments, the lead stretched taut again.

  Everybody el
se in the family was busy so Annalise had agreed to take the dog out. Her thoughts turned to the visit from the policeman investigating the crash. After the man left, her father had read and signed the documents before driving back into Steadmore to drop them off together with a cheque at the solicitor’s office. She was now officially a client of Pringle and Dobson.

  Upon his return, her father had also telephoned the doctor’s surgery. The receptionist was very helpful and supplied the contact details for three hypnotherapists who worked closely with the practice doctors. One of the three didn’t answer the phone, but both of the others, one male and one female, seemed to be professional and responded to his questions in a succinct and efficient manner. Vacancies were at a premium and the female hypnotherapist was the only one who could fit Annalise in within the next fortnight. The first one-hour consultation was now scheduled for the morning of the following Monday.

  As Annalise dragged the inquisitive dog along the pavement, she paid no attention to the man who lowered himself in the driver’s seat of the battered hatchback.

  ***

  Steven gazed out of the car window. He had parked further down the road than the previous night. A nosy neighbour might become suspicious of a strange vehicle standing in the same spot every evening, especially when the driver stayed inside. He had already drawn a couple of curious glances from pedestrians going about their business on the quiet residential street.

  His wait was rewarded by the sight of the girl accompanied by a large German Shepherd. Steven didn’t like dogs. His fear stemmed from an incident when, as a thirteen-year-old, a friend’s Rottweiler had become over-excited while they played together in the garden and sank its teeth into his arm. If he rolled up his sleeve, the faint outline of the scar was still visible. A brief trip to Accident and Emergency repaired the physical damage, but the mental scars remained. The animal was put down much to his friend’s distress, and the friendship hadn’t lasted more than a few weeks after the attack.

  So it was true; she was back at home. This was the first time he had seen her in the flesh. She seemed thinner than the photographs, and her hair was longer, but she was unmistakably the person he was tracking. The heat of anticipation welled up in his chest. His heart hammered against his ribcage, and his breath came in short bursts as he imagined what he would do to her when the time came. He was almost ready to begin the next stage of his project.

  But first he needed to undertake some preparation work.

  Chapter 24

  Annalise descended the stairs in her dressing gown. Much as she wanted to spend a lazy Saturday morning in bed, her mind had been racing, flitting from one thought to the next in rapid succession.

  The prospect of a court case brought a tingle to her face and made her ears burn: all those people looking at her, judging her. How could she answer their accusations? What would happen to her? The possibility of spending time in jail for a crime she couldn’t even remember filled her with dread.

  She nudged open the kitchen door, expecting to be bowled over by the exuberant dog. The room was strangely silent. She glanced at the wall clock: five minutes past seven. Everybody else was still upstairs; she would have heard the sounds of activity had they been up and about.

  “Bisto,” she called. “Where are you?”

  She rounded the central island, bringing the dog’s bed into view. Bisto lay with his head on a paw. He raised a bloodshot eye, and his tail twitched in a subdued greeting. A puddle of brown liquid, tinged with streaks of red, spread around the padded base.

  “Bisto, are you alright?”

  The sharp, acrid scent of bile reached her nostrils. A shiver travelled down the animal’s rear legs. She bent down and ran a hand over the coarse fur of his coat. His flanks rose and fell in time with his rapid breathing.

  Annalise straightened up and hurried back the way she had come. A slipper dropped off; she left it on the cream tiles as she rushed up the stairs. She burst into her parent’s bedroom without knocking.

  Her father jerked upright at the sudden intrusion. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Bisto. I don’t think he’s well. He puked on the floor, and he won’t get out of his bed. It looks like there’s blood in it too.”

  Dan threw back the covers. He placed his bare feet on the carpet and rubbed his face. “We better call the vet.”

  Sophie was already reaching for the bedside phone. “The number’s on the cork board by the boiler. It’s very early. Do you think they’ll be open?”

  “I’m sure there’ll be an emergency number,” Dan said as he tied the belt of his dressing gown.

  Annalise followed her mother and father downstairs into the kitchen. The dog hadn’t moved and gave the same subdued welcome, barely lifting his head in the process. Dan attended to the unpleasant pool of liquid while Sophie made the call. She pulled the handset away from her ear, tapped a button and then another.

  After several seconds, she spoke. “Yes, sorry to bother you, but our dog’s been sick, and he’s very lethargic. He’s barely moving.”

  “... My name is Mrs Becker, and the dog is called Bisto.”

  “... Okay, I understand. We’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”

  She deposited the phone on the work surface. “The vet said he’d be there as soon as he can. He’s at home, but he’s leaving now.”

  “I better go and get dressed,” Dan said, washing his hands at the sink.

  “I’ll come with you,” Sophie added. “Do you mind staying here while we take him in the car, Annalise? Will you tell your sister where we are?”

  “No problem,” Annalise replied with a resigned shrug.

  She knelt beside the ill animal and stroked his fur while she waited for her parents. Five minutes later they returned, Sophie carrying a bundle of towels between her arms. Dan pulled the sleeping mat out and crouched down. It took all his effort to lift the dog. Bisto made no attempt to resist.

  Annalise unlocked the front door and held it ajar as her father staggered outside. Sophie had already laid out the towels along the back seat.

  “Christ, he weighs a ton.” Dan deposited the animal on the ad hoc protective layer. “Can you let us out, Annalise?”

  Still in her dressing gown, Annalise lifted the latch and swung the gate across the short driveway. Her father wound down the window as he drew alongside.

  “I hope he’s alright,” she said. “Do you think it was something he ate?”

  “Almost certainly. The bloody dog will eat anything.”

  Chapter 25

  Annalise stared at her reflection and stroked her eyelashes with the mascara brush. She lowered her hand and moved closer to the mirror. The complexion of the person staring back was pale, and the facial muscles displayed a hint of looseness. She tightened her cheeks in a mock smile and repeated the action three times in rapid succession.

  She sighed, dissatisfied with the results. Everyone had told her it would take time to recover. The worst part of it was the general lethargy and tiredness that seemed to lock her body in a constant state of torpor. She had never suffered a serious illness or injury before, and this period of recovery and rehabilitation was alien to her.

  In some ways, she was looking forward to an evening out with Mark. In others, she was dreading it. He had telephoned earlier that day, demonstrating the full range of his persuasive abilities. Despite her initial reluctance, she had finally agreed. He was due to pick her up in just under half an hour.

  There was no doubting it would distract her from her troubles, but she still couldn’t decide whether she was up to facing a crowd. Her stomach twisted at the thought. Everybody would be aware of what had happened. The prospect of being the centre of attention was daunting. She dabbed at her face with the rouge then tossed the brush down in frustration. Damn it, she was done with this. He would have to take her as he found her.

  Annalise slipped out of the comfortable sweatpants and grabbed a pair of blue jeans from the wardrobe. They were the same ones sh
e had worn the night before the accident. She pulled them on, but instead of the familiar skin-tight feel around her waist, there was an inch of slack. She might even have to wear something to keep them up. Pulling a thin black belt off another pair of trousers, she threaded it through the loops without taking the jeans off. She lifted the white T-shirt over her head and replaced it with a pale green blouse and a cream jumper. When she examined herself in the full-length mirror, the clothes blended well together, but the figure wearing them looked underweight, in fact almost anorexic.

  At least there had been good news that morning. After examining Bisto, the vet had diagnosed it as a case of rat poisoning. He had pumped the dog’s stomach and administered an injection to counteract the symptoms. The animal was expected to make a full recovery. In the meantime, they were keeping him under observation at the clinic for a few days. The source of the poison was a mystery. After her parents returned, her father had scoured the garden but came up empty-handed.

  Annalise had spent most of the morning on the phone in discussions with educational establishments. Despite it being a Saturday, the office staff at the sixth form college where she had been studying prior to the crash were at work. She had completed all the coursework for her Mathematics, Physics and Chemistry A-levels but had missed the final set of examinations. Her plan was to take them this year. Even after spending eleven months in a coma, the subjects were still fresh in her head.

  The problem was the relatively short notice. The tests were due to start in seven weeks, and the school authorities were unsure whether they could register her before the final deadline. Her parents had suggested that she postpone her education until the following spring, but the thought of waiting another year to resume her studies—by which time her contemporaries would be two years ahead—didn’t appeal. The administration officer had promised to get back to her after the weekend.

  The next call was to the university which had offered her a place to study Physics. She wanted to know whether the offer was still valid. This conversation met with more success, and the admissions tutor agreed to hold her place open provided she achieved the required grades of two As and a B. Annalise had been reticent about the possibility of any potential prosecution, but the thought wasn’t far from her mind. If that came about, all her plans would be put on ice.