by A J Waines
‘How do you mean?’
Daniel breathed heavily. He didn’t want to put words into her mouth; it was crucial that she remembered for herself. Moreover, he didn’t want her to realise how significant her replies would be. He had to keep his tone light and casual. ‘I mean... any changes in yourself… your moods?’
‘Well, of course. I felt jittery and anxious, because I was upset. There were times when I felt almost paranoid. I had to be watching you all the time.’
‘Anything else?’
He held his breath. How she answered his next few questions could make all the difference between staying behind bars and being released from prison.
She hesitated. ‘I thought you were going to take Ben away from me.’ There was a clunk as she changed the position of the receiver. ‘This is going to sound stupid, but I even thought you might want to hurt me. At one point, I got it into my head that you were planning on suffocating me.’
‘Did you explain all this to Dr Marshall?’
‘Of course. That’s why he kept asking what I was taking. And whether I’d used recreational drugs.’
‘He asked me that, too.’
It made complete sense. Daniel waited, silently urging her to say more.
‘A couple of friends at work said I seemed edgy… and my leg was bouncing up and down all the time.’
‘I remember that happening at home, too.’
Everything she’d told him tallied exactly with her diary entries from September onwards.
Everything.
‘Where are you going with this?’
‘You know how surprised Dr Marshall was at your fast recovery? It’s been playing on my mind.’
‘Yes, he did seem shocked by that.’
Daniel bit the bullet.
‘Okay. I have a theory. I think it’s possible that you might have been drugged for weeks without knowing. Substances to make you agitated and volatile. It would explain your outbursts, your physical symptoms…’
Her response nearly deafened him. ‘What? That’s incredible!’
‘Rick’s degree was in biochemistry. He’d know about drugs, about how to get hold of them.’
‘But the items I found; the love letter, the condoms, the lingerie – they were real. They weren’t hallucinations, honestly. I swear on Ben’s life…’
He waited for the inevitable question.
‘Why would Rick resort to something like that?’ she hissed.
Before he could reply, there was a clunk and he thought they’d been cut off.
‘No… no…’ he cried. ‘Sophie, are you still there?’
There were sounds of a scuffle, shouts – then a whistle blew which sliced into the uproar and brought about an abrupt silence.
‘I haven’t finished yet,’ said Sophie politely, speaking to someone beside her.
‘Sophie?’
‘I’m here,’ she said, her voice breathy. ‘I’ll have to be quick.’ She took a moment to compose herself. ‘You’re saying I was given something in the months before my outburst?’
‘Yes.’
‘I remember starting to feel very weird soon after taking the antidepressants from my GP, but I thought maybe I’d get worse before I got better.’
He slapped his palm into his forehead.
‘Whoa – of course. That probably made everything far worse. Maybe mixing antidepressants with whatever Rick was giving you created a lethal cocktail. It could explain what tipped you over the edge in the kitchen that day.’
‘But, why didn’t the psychiatrists and doctors pick it up when I was committed? Wouldn’t I have had traces of an alien substance in my blood?’
He glanced up at the kitchen clock. ‘I’m going to look into that. I think they did run some tests, but not straight away.’
‘What can we do, Daniel?’
He blew out a blast of air. ‘Leave it to me.’
‘And find Ben,’ she cried, ‘you must find Ben.’
Chapter 73
Outdoor life in the rat-infested dump of a caravan was overrated and Rick only lasted three days. The police were looking for him, but everything was under control. Louise had left various breathy messages on his phone, but he didn’t trust her. Little sisters were fine for some things, but not this.
He wondered at what point Stuart would realise his car was missing. With any luck, he’d already gone into hiding in Scotland for as long as he could.
He sang tunelessly to himself as he replaced Stuart’s bedding, now damp and covered in mouse droppings, back onto the bunk and made a point of not clearing away any of the mess he’d made. Give Stuart something to think about if he ever made it back there.
He was tempted to leave the place unlocked and throw away the key. Let some down-and-out make use of the fleapit. But he changed his mind. He might still need Stuart to dig him out of a hole in the future and couldn’t afford to burn all his boats. He might even get his car back in place before anyone knew it was missing.
His heart raced as he thought about what was ahead of him; one final stage in his plan before he disappeared for good. He couldn’t wait! The look on Danny-boy’s face when everything exploded before his eyes. It was going to be priceless!
He left the inert bloodied bundle in the blanket where it was, on the bunk bed; give Stuart a nasty shock when he made his next visit.
Rick chuckled at the look of horror and befuddlement it would bring to Stuart’s face when he tried to figure out how the hell it had got there.
He revved the engine, grated the gears and pulled out onto the squelchy track. He felt like he was on his way to pocket the jackpot on the lottery.
Chapter 74
‘Come in, Mr Duke,’ said DCI Watson, shaking his hand. ‘You’ve become something of a private eye, it would seem.’
After he’d spoken to Sophie, Daniel had dug out all her old medication from the filing cabinet in the cellar where he’d previously dumped it. As well as out-of-date insulin phials, there were antidepressants and a half-empty nasal spray.
Daniel had been sitting about in the waiting area for some time, but on entering the interview room felt unaccountably out of breath. He placed the diary and the medication, wrapped in a plastic bag, on the desk.
‘I take it there is no news about my son?’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Duke. We’re doing all we can.’
Daniel winced at the familiar words, then let out a long, tired sigh. ‘I’ve got new evidence concerning my wife’s case.’
Watson glanced at the items. ‘So you said on the phone.’ He hitched up his trousers before sitting down. ‘You think someone drugged your wife in the lead up to the attack on you, is that right?’
Daniel didn’t fail to pick up the DCI’s tone of weary condescension, as if he was feigning interest in a child performing a song badly off-key for the umpteenth time.
‘Sophie gave me permission to bring her record of that time,’ he went on, regardless. ‘In the margin… see… I’ve made pencil marks beside her references to feeling disoriented, suffering intolerable headaches, hallucinations and delusions. And here…’ He pointed to an entry she’d made the day before the stabbing. ‘I’ll read it out, if I may?’
DCI Watson half-smiled and sat back, folding his arms.
‘Feb 2. Felt really weird and scared this morning. Had to lie down at work – saw beetles coming out of my stomach. All around me on my clothes. Is it the antidepressants? Am I going mad? What is happening to me? Daren’t tell Daniel. Must get back to the GP.’
Daniel swivelled the book round, so Watson could get a good view, and flicked through more pages, pointing to his pencil marks. ‘You can see how her handwriting disintegrates over time from being neat and precise into this messy scrawl.’ He straightened up. ‘I’ve spoken to my wife in prison and we both believe that when she stabbed me, it was following months of being drugged by Richard Fox.’
Daniel touched the plastic bag. ‘And I have her medication from that period, too.’ He pushed them towards him. ‘
If you could test them, it could show they’ve been tampered with.’
As the words tumbled out after his long wait, Daniel had the horrible feeling he sounded not only desperate, but deluded. Having put it into words, his ‘evidence’ looked feeble and flimsy at best. He was clutching at straws.
DCI Watson drew a long breath and addressed his response to the items on the desk. ‘Even if you’re right, Mr Duke, it’s purely circumstantial.’ He shut the spiral-bound book and tapped the cover. ‘I’m not saying she did, but your wife could have written all this after the attack. You yourself could have tampered with the medication.’ He pushed them away. ‘It doesn’t point the finger anywhere, I’m afraid.’
Daniel silently cursed himself – he’d even forgotten about fingerprints, had slapped plenty of his own all over the containers.
‘But, Rick… Mr Fox… knew my wife needed insulin every day. He joked about it once, when he saw it in the fridge. Then after Christmas, she started taking an antidepressant from the doctor. Venlafaxine.’ Daniel glanced up at the detective to check if he was still listening. ‘Mr Fox could have come into contact with any of these – and the nasal spray. He came to our house and joined us at several social gatherings from September onwards on some pretext or other.’ Daniel screwed up his eyes. ‘He would have had access to the fridge, to my wife’s handbag.’
DCI Watson remained impassive, but Daniel kept going. ‘He could have left replacements and Sophie would never have known.’
‘Mr Duke, we’re not in a position to host a treasure hunt.’ He placed his hands on the desk, ready to stand up.
‘But… surely, this needs looking into? I checked online and antidepressants mixed with other drugs can have a radical impact. Isn’t it worth checking with the psychiatrist?’
He knew he sounded pathetic.
‘It’s all speculation, Mr Duke. We work with evidence,’ DCI Watson said with a conclusive shrug. ‘Clear, hard evidence. And this isn’t it.’
DCI Watson stood up just at the moment Daniel realised he’d blown it.
‘I can see how preferable it would be for this to be the reason for your wife’s behaviour, Mr Duke. Far better that your wife was suffering some drug-induced derangement than she attacked you in her right mind. But…’
He left his last word hanging in the air.
That night when he climbed the stairs, Daniel forgot for one nanosecond that Ben wasn’t there. He’d been keeping the night light on in Ben’s room since his disappearance, like a beacon calling him back home. Tired and not thinking straight, he stepped inside the room just as he’d always done.
This time he stared at the empty cot.
Night after night, he’d stood in awe as the night light threw a gentle beam over Ben’s face. He’d watched the little white stars as they slid over Ben’s cheeks and eyelids, then ran across the wall and ceiling. Then he’d waited for his son’s little body to rise and fall in the dim light.
Only, not this time.
Chapter 75
Louise dropped everything when she got Rick’s message and made her way to Borough Market. It was closed on Wednesdays; the entire area deserted apart from stacks of slatted vegetable boxes and barren trestle tables. She moved from one spot to the next trying to shake off the smell of rotting vegetables and stale milk.
He came out of a side street and moved swiftly in her direction. It was a mild day, but he was wearing a thick scarf that covered his mouth and a woollen hat pulled down over his eyes. Louise barely recognised him. From this distance, he looked like a tramp.
‘Rick? What’s going on? Why are we meeting here?’ She looked up into the rows of shadowy railway arches.
‘Shh. Don’t use my name. I’m lying low.’
‘Why?’ she sighed. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Everything’s fine. I’m just keeping a low profile, that’s all.’ He ushered her into an alleyway. He was unshaven and looked like he’d been sleeping rough.
‘You didn’t answer my calls. Where have you been?’ She stared into his eyes, but they were darting around, wary, like a trapped animal. ‘Daniel said you’d set him up. He said you’d done something to make people think he was having an affair.’
‘Yeah, well. That’s only part of it.’
‘But you lied to me. You said he’d done something awful and he hasn’t.’
Rick laughed, but it wasn’t joyful. Instead, it sounded weary and cynical.
‘Believe me, Daniel is going to pay big time for what he’s done.’
She was confused. ‘So, what has he done?’
‘He’s poisoned everything. Sullied and degraded our family.’ He spat on the pavement.
‘What are you talking about?’ She tried to take hold of him, get him to face her, explain properly, but he pulled free.
‘He’s in for a nasty shock, that’s all.’
She turned full circle, frustrated, unable to make any sense of what he was saying.
‘Look,’ he said. ‘Just say you haven’t seen me, if anyone asks, okay?’
‘Are you going home? When will I see you?’ A sick feeling was bubbling away in her stomach. Rick didn’t look well; he was twitchy, shifting from one foot to the other as though the pavement was on fire.
‘No. I won’t be around for a while. I’ll contact you. But, let me know if Daniel gets in touch, okay. It’s really important. Will you do that?’
‘Yes – okay,’ she replied, grudgingly.
‘It shouldn’t take him long.’
‘Long for what?’
‘He should have had a couple of postcards by now.’ He strode off, not waiting around to answer her pleas for an explanation. ‘Don’t follow me,’ he hissed. ‘It’ll all become clear soon, believe me.’
She stood there, not sure what to do. Someone barged into her, carrying a sack of potatoes, and by the time she looked up, her brother had disappeared.
Chapter 76
After being asked to hold the line, and then enduring several renditions of ‘The Blue Danube’, Daniel eventually got through to the right ward.
He explained the situation as concisely as he could.
‘I can’t imagine we’d still have any of her medication, Mr Duke. Normally when a patient leaves us, those items are incinerated.’
‘This could be a police matter, so I’d be very grateful if you would go and check.’ He hoped that dropping in the ‘p’ word might shake the nurse up a little. ‘But please don’t handle anything directly, it could be evidence.’
‘I’ll go and see. I’ll call you back.’
‘No, no, please, I’ll wait.’ He heard the clunk of the receiver hitting the desk and hung on.
It could equally go either way: lead to Sophie’s release and Rick’s arrest, or lead to a pile of dust long since swept away from the grate of an incinerator.
‘Mr Duke?’
‘I’m here.’
‘You’re in luck. Her original medication is still here.’
He pumped his fist in the air. Thank goodness for the inefficiency at Maple Ward.
He called the police straight away, insisting he had extremely important information and would only speak to DCI Watson. Eventually, he was put through.
‘I’ve been in touch with Maple Ward,’ he said, tripping over his words. ‘They still have the original medication that Sophie was using when she was admitted. There’s a nasal spray and more insulin. It should have been destroyed by now, but luckily it wasn’t.’ Watson was silent. ‘If you could at least get in touch with them and run checks on it?’ There was still a horrible silence from the other end of the line, and so Daniel felt the need to beg. ‘Please! My son is still missing… Richard Fox has disappeared… it could all be linked.’
Another silence. Then DCI Watson cleared his throat.
‘Let’s see what we can do,’ he said eventually.
Within the next hour, DCI Watson had sent a team to the hospital to collect Sophie’s original medication and take statements from Dr Marsh
all and the nurses.
Soon after, Daniel had a call to say the forensic laboratory would be running tests. Only, it would take days. He was told to keep his phone close by and wait.
During that first night he found himself plagued by images in his mind’s eye of the white ball dancing on a spinning roulette wheel. Relentlessly, it clattered from red to black, red to black.
Chapter 77
With Ben still missing, Daniel didn’t dare leave the house more than he had to. He needed to be there for that glorious moment when the police brought his son home.
Any other outcome was unthinkable.
Uniformed officers and the family liaison officer had been in and out, day after day, but they always offered him the same two dismal words: ‘no news.’
He asked his boss to send him figures to analyse in the hope that it would distract him for short periods. But, all he could see before his eyes was Sophie’s frenzied handwriting and all he could hear inside his head was his little boy calling, ‘Daddy, Daddy, where are you?’
He bought a map of his local area and stapled it to a cork board he found in the cellar, so he could mark out all the areas he’d personally scoured looking for Ben and keep up to date with the police search. Every time he stabbed a pin into the chart, he imagined piercing another sensitive part of Rick’s body.
Where have you taken him you piece of shit?
Franciska had brought fresh milk and provisions over for him, but she’d forgotten bread, so Daniel slipped out to the local deli. When he returned another postcard awaited him on the mat. Daniel recognised Oxford University; a different shot this time. Unlike the last one he’d received. However, there was a message:
You treated her like dirt... and I don’t mean your wife.
It was Rick’s handwriting. Definitely.
What the hell was he getting at?
