The Keeper

by Diane Saxon

  Dr Ahmed’s gentle tones washed over her as waves of blackness receded. ‘We’re about to take you to X-ray to check the damage. Then we’ll be able to make an assessment of what needs to be done.’

  Aware of Lana’s gaze on her, Jenna wondered if she’d turned the unhealthy shade of green she felt. With long, slow pulls of breath, Jenna managed to get herself under control and tuned back in to Fliss’s story.

  ‘When I woke, I was in some kind of cellar, handcuffed to a bed.’ She raised her good hand and the dark bruises encircling her wrist drew Jenna’s attention. ‘He visited a few times. I’m sorry, my head… it’s not clear, he drugged me, several times, and the pain was unbearable.’ Fliss jiggled her plastered hand. ‘He snapped my hand back into place, one finger at a time. It felt worse than when he broke it. I fainted. I know I did. I must have been out for some time because when I woke, my arm was like this. He’d plastered it.’

  Jenna surged to her feet as surprise whipped through Fliss’s gaze. ‘I’m sorry.’ She stared at the nurse as pinpricks of light sparkled in her vision. ‘Could I possibly have some water?’

  Instead of Lana going to fetch water, she stepped in close and guided Jenna back into her seat. With a cool, gentle hand on the back of her neck, she pushed Jenna’s head down, in between her knees. ‘Stay there while I get you some water. You can’t faint if you stay like this.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Jenna mumbled, ashamed of her reaction, when her sister lay in bed, battered and beaten yet still able to function. Heat rushed through her chest to suffuse her neck and cheeks. ‘I’ll be all right in a minute.’

  ‘That happened to me when he did it, only I crashed and burned. Fainted dead.’

  Jenna raised her head to meet the amusement in her sister’s stare. How could she joke about it when the matter was so deadly serious?

  As the light-headedness faded, Jenna shucked her jacket to try and cool off, grateful to accept the plastic cup of water Lana offered her. Taking small sips, Jenna glanced at Taylor. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Gentle empathy softened the hard planes of his face. ‘You need a break?’

  ‘No, please, carry on.’ Mortified at her own weakness, Jenna took another sip of water and nodded for Fliss to continue.

  ‘He stitched up some of the bigger gashes.’

  ‘I took a look at these earlier.’ Lana nodded. ‘In my opinion, whoever carried out this work did a pretty adequate job. I would say it looks like the work of a first or second year student, fairly good, but not as precise and neat as a surgeon.’ Her lips quirked up in a smile. ‘Or a nurse practitioner.’

  Dr Ahmed nodded in agreement. ‘I don’t think we need to do anything more with these. They’re clean, there’s no infection and if we unstitch them just to stitch them up again, the likelihood is your scarring will be worse. What I would like to do shortly is take you to the plaster room, so they can cut the plaster off your arm; we’ll have it x-rayed. Depending what he’s done to it, we may have to operate to set your fingers straight again.’

  At Fliss’s cringe, Jenna looked askance at the nurse. ‘Can she have some painkillers?’

  ‘She already did when the paramedics brought her in.’ The nurse smiled at Fliss. ‘Don’t worry, when they reset it, they’ll put you under anaesthetic first.’

  Fliss gave a weary nod, her eyes fluttered closed.

  ‘Okay, that’s enough for now.’ Dr Ahmed’s tone brooked no argument. ‘You can stay.’ He nodded at Jenna. ‘You’re a relative.’

  Taylor came to his feet and made his way to the door of the side room. ‘Let me know when she’s all right to continue. I’ll be in the canteen. Jenna, if you need anything, anything at all, just let me know.’

  ‘She’ll need a mug of coffee.’ Fliss’s faint voice faded on the last word, but Taylor’s lips kicked up in a crooked smile.

  ‘I’ll make sure that’s seen to, don’t you worry.’ His gaze trapped Jenna’s, his dark brows pulled low. ‘If she wakes, no questions, Sergeant. Make sure of that. You’re here as a relative only, not a police officer.’

  Jenna laid her head back on the chair and gave him a nod. She was incapable of forming questions, she just wanted to sit and watch her sister, wallow in the self-pity and delirium of having Fliss back.

  As they all left, Jenna stared at her younger sister. Fliss was alive and that was the best she could ask for. She would recover, her scars would heal, and Jenna would make damned sure she was there to help her move on. She’d never complain about the damned dog again. She smiled to herself. She’d arrange to have him taken home, surprise Fliss when she got there, provided Domino was well enough. Perhaps Mason would take him back to her house if she gave him the keys.

  Jenna squirmed in the hard chair, then came to her feet to peep out of the open doorway. Surprise curled through her at the sight of Mason on the other side of the room, arms crossed over his chest, brow furrowed as his gaze clashed with hers.

  Jenna stepped outside the room and gave him a weary smile. ‘She’s okay.’

  He nodded. ‘So I heard.’

  He’d taken it very hard, she could see that, could see the worry swirling in his gaze. ‘You can go if you want.’

  The slow shake of his head and tightening of his lips stopped her. ‘No. We have no idea who this man is and what he wanted with Fliss in the first place. As we don’t know his whereabouts yet, or whether there’s a possibility he’ll come back for her, there’s no way I’m leaving her alone.’

  Jenna flashed him a feral smile, jiggling her eyebrows at him. ‘I’m here.’

  He nodded, her attempt at lightening the situation bypassed his sense of humour. ‘I’ll not risk either of you.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She touched his arm for a brief moment before she stepped back into the room, surprised to find Fliss awake and staring at her.

  Her voice weak, Fliss narrowed her eyes at her as though the light in the room had become too strong. ‘I remembered something.’ The deadly seriousness of her voice had Jenna moving in closer. ‘He knows you.’

  ‘Pardon?’ Jenna stepped closer to the bed and bowed her head, so she could hear better, an anxious flutter filling her chest.

  ‘He knows you. That’s why he took me, because he thought I recognised him. That I know him through you.’

  Jenna’s mind flew into overdrive, a million possibilities racing through her head. She leaned in. Nose to nose with her sister, she peered deep into her exhausted eyes. ‘And do you?’

  Fliss’s death-filled gaze held hers as she gave a slow shake of her head.

  36

  Wednesday 31 October, 04:30 hrs

  ‘Nooo!’ Fliss lurched upright, heart leaping from of her chest. She gulped in great mouthfuls of air as she choked on her tears. Dark shadows shifted in the room as she blinked in furious desperation. She was still there. Trapped.

  ‘Shhhh, Fliss. You’re safe. You’re home. I’ve got you.’

  She crumpled into Jenna’s arms, petrified this was the dream and the reality would be that she was still incarcerated in the cellar of a madman’s house. She clung even tighter, her chin on Jenna’s shoulder, and let the tears roll into the soft pyjama top Jenna wore.

  ‘I thought I was there.’

  ‘I know. Shhh. You’re not. You’re safe.’

  ‘Where’s Domino?’

  ‘Don’t say his name, he’ll only jump…’

  As the weight of the Dalmatian bore down on her legs, Jenna huffed out a breath, but Fliss reached out to curl her fingers around his satin ear and take comfort from his familiar presence as he did a slow kamikaze crawl from the bottom of the bed until he lodged himself between them. With a contented sigh, he lowered his head and snuffled his cold, wet nose into the crease of her elbow.

  Despite the comfort he offered, the dream still swirled in her mind.

  ‘He came back.’ Tears stung her eyes as she blinked at Jenna through the lavender pre-dawn light. Her voice thick with terror, she made a desperate attempt to control he
r horror. ‘I saw him. He was so real. He breathed his mint breath in my face.’

  With one arm wrapped around her, Jenna stroked Fliss’s face. The soothing rhythm of it calmed her, but the shot of adrenaline still had Fliss’s heart racing.

  ‘Do you think you’d be able to give a clearer description of him?’

  Fliss took several beats to reply while the shudders wracking her body died down. ‘Yes. His eyes were… hollow. He seemed so large.’ She closed her eyes and a vision of him sprang into her head. ‘But it was always dull grey in there. Almost like twilight. I could barely see. I never knew if it was night or day. There were no windows. But when he came in, he always switched on the light. It was bright. A bare bulb dangling from the ceiling and he always stood in front of it. I don’t know whether it was contrived so I couldn’t see him, or to make him appear scary. His face was shadowed. He was always angry. His face… strained.’ Calm layered over her panic as she talked.

  She leaned back against her pillows, taking Jenna with her, her shoulder nudging the comatose Dalmatian snuggled tight to her side to elicit a long-suffering groan. He wasn’t supposed to come upstairs, but what could she do? They were both recovering from emotional and physical trauma. It would have been a cruelty to both of them to leave him downstairs. He needed her as much as she needed him. Even if he took up two-thirds of her double bed. She laid her hand on his shoulder, the heat of him an instant comfort, but the fear of the dark could no longer be dispelled by him alone.

  ‘Will you stay?’ she whispered to Jenna. ‘Just for a while?’

  Jenna smiled against Fliss’s cheek. ‘Of course. For as long as you need me.’

  Warmed by her sister’s presence, Fliss took comfort, her eyelids drooping as sleep tried to claim her. ‘I’ll always need you.’

  Jenna’s voice thickened. ‘I know.’

  Conscious of the police officer posted downstairs in the living room, Fliss shifted her weight on the bed and lowered her voice. ‘When will the police decide not to provide protection any more?’

  ‘Hopefully not until they catch him.’

  ‘What if you don’t? What if you never catch him? It can’t go on forever.’

  ‘We’ll catch him.’

  ‘But you have nothing to go on.’

  ‘We have plenty to go on.’

  She twisted so her face almost touched her sister’s. ‘Like what?’

  With an impatient shuffle, Jenna hissed through gritted teeth. ‘You know I shouldn’t talk to you about this. I could lose my job.’

  ‘Nobody would know. I won’t say anything.’

  ‘Fliss!’

  ‘I promise. I won’t whisper a word. I may be able to help. Knowing something is being done will help me sleep.’

  Jenna’s breath puffed out across the top of Fliss’s head and their hands nudged each other as they both stroked Domino. ‘They’re following any leads they can. The ring has distinctive markings. They’re looking for the jeweller who might have made it or inscribed it.’ Jenna wriggled further down the bed, her voice low and soothing. ‘We’re trying to find a link through her dental records.’

  ‘Hmmm.’

  ‘We’re collating all the door-to-door evidence, but there really isn’t much, and as you know, we’ve put out an appeal in the newspapers.’

  Plastered all over the internet and papers, news of her attack dominated. She’d closed down her iPad when she’d arrived home, refusing to look at Facebook. Many of the comments sickened her.

  Fliss turned onto her side to spoon Domino, placing her damaged arm on top of the duvet cover, tucking it closer to ward off the chill. Her eyes drifted shut again. Anaesthetic still buzzed around in her system from the four hour operation she’d had to endure. At least they’d reset her bones.

  Her fingers gave a convulsive twitch inside the cast, a shimmer of heat prickled over her skin as a sharp reminder of the damage she’d suffered. Damage which she prayed had been rectified by the operation. The X-rays had shown less damage than they’d expected. Her two middle fingers were broken, where they’d twisted in the lead, but her hand, rather than being broken, had suffered deep bruising to the tendons. Her fractured wrist had already started to heal. The light, flexible splint they’d fitted gave the support she needed without the heavy weight of a cast.

  Six weeks the surgeon predicted. No driving. How the hell was she supposed to work?

  ‘Are you asleep, Fliss?’ Jenna’s voice whispered over her.

  ‘No. I was thinking about my hand.’

  ‘Does it hurt?’

  ‘Yeah, hurts like hell.’

  ‘Do you need any painkillers?’

  She raised her head and turned towards her sister. ‘Can I have some? How long has it been since I took the last ones?’

  The bedcovers rustled as Jenna sat up. ‘It’s almost five o’clock. You took them when you came to bed at ten last night, so yes, you can have whatever you like.’

  ‘Paracetamol, I think.’

  ‘You don’t want something stronger?’

  ‘I don’t like codeine, it makes me feel weird. It reminds me of the stuff he gave me. I feel sick and dizzy with it.’

  Jenna slipped out of bed and, in the dark silence of the room, Fliss let her mind drift, so when Jenna returned, she had a question ready. She struggled to sit up, pinned by the weight of the dog on the covers.

  Jenna leaned over her, blocking out the light. ‘Let me help you.’

  ‘I feel so pathetic.’

  Jenna wrapped her arms around Fliss and hauled her into a sitting position.

  ‘I should be able to do this myself.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter, you soon will. You’ve been through a lot, Fliss, and your hand was badly damaged. It’s not surprising you can’t do anything yet. And the anaesthetic will take a while to get out of your system.’ Jenna perched on the side of the bed, shuffling Fliss over so she had more room, then she picked up the glass and the paracetamol and offered them to her.

  Fliss tossed the paracetamol onto her tongue, grabbed the glass and washed down the tablets while eyeing her sister as she remembered the question whirling around in her head. ‘What about the cyclist who found me?’

  Jenna squinted at her. ‘What about the cyclist?’

  ‘Did he see him? Did he see the man? I know he was there.’ The memory was screened in mist, but the sensation still prickled her skin. ‘I could feel him watching me.’

  Jenna stilled. ‘You never mentioned this before.’

  ‘It’s only just come back to me. I was sure he was behind me, and then I was on the ground and the cyclist was there.’

  ‘Keith Fellows.’

  ‘Keith. He was so kind.’

  ‘According to Salter and Wainwright he was a nice man. Quite traumatised by the event. They’ve interviewed him.’ Jenna picked up her phone and started tapping in information. ‘I’ll check if they enquired whether he saw anyone else. I’m sure they would have asked him. But just in case.’

  ‘Yes.’ Fliss’s jaw creaked as she yawned. She slipped back down the bed, inhaling the freshly laundered scent of the bedlinen, antiseptic and warm dog, no longer able to keep her eyes open. ‘See, I told you I could help.’

  Jenna gave her an affectionate cuff on the head, and they lay in silence for a moment, Domino’s soft snores filling the silence while another thought nudged at Fliss’s conscience. There was something else she had to say to her sister.

  ‘Jenna?’

  ‘Hmmm?’

  ‘Thanks for picking a decent photograph of me for the newspapers “missing” item. I’d have been really peed off if you’d picked a bad one,’ she mumbled as the darkness took her down into a deep slumber.

  37

  Wednesday 31 October, 18:45 hrs

  The man gave a vicious stab of his fork into his meal-for-two dinner. He raised a slice of processed chicken to his face to stare at it for one long moment before he shovelled it into his mouth and chewed. Enjoyment wasn’t expected. The f
ury bubbling in his stomach soured the taste.

  He slapped the tinfoil container on his kitchen table, sending it skittering across the wooden surface to the other side. The bottle of whisky at his elbow, still uncorked from his last slug, proved too much of a temptation. Bypassing his usual crystal whisky glass, the man took hold of the bottle and upended it, catching the waterfall in his mouth. The liquor burned all the way down to his gullet, but he only stopped when the last of the whisky was gone, before he slammed the bottle down on the table. He stared at the dark green bottle, fury vibrating through him. He snatched it up again and launched it across the kitchen into the sink. The shatter of glass did nothing to satisfy his bloodlust.

  The stupid cow. Stupid, stupid cow. She’d deprived him of so much. Was about to deprive him of still more when she remembered. When they came for him.

  He rubbed his fingers across his dry, cracked lips, bristles rasping. Two days he’d been off work. Two days of lying in a virtual stupor, waiting for the doorbell to ring and the cops to arrest him. Stupid bastards had done the initial door to door, even accepted a cup of tea while Fliss lay underneath their feet in the cellar. They’d chatted about the tragedy of the missing woman, of the dead body. Clueless, they’d never asked to check further. Dopey sods had tripped off to the next house to grab another cup of tea.

  With a bitter smile, he knuckled his fist into his forehead. He’d waited for them the previous day, but no one had come. Nothing had happened. Due back to work the following morning, life had continued as normal.

  Normal. He snorted. Nothing would ever be normal again. If only the little slapper hadn’t crossed his path. He stretched across the table and dragged his dinner back towards him. The room lurched, ceiling and floor meeting in the middle, then parted to whirl around in a mad kaleidoscope. His mouth watered as the oily contents of his stomach bubbled up.