I yell and throw my hands out. They crash onto the bed rail, the IV port in the back of the left hand taking a fierce rap. My eyes really open this time, shocked awake by pain, and I realise I’d dreamt it all – Venice, Emma, Lizzy.
‘Are you all right, Dr Harrison?’ It’s the policeman guarding my room who is asking. Alarmed by my shouts, he has poked his head round the door.
‘Ye… Yes. Just a nightmare.’ I try to reach for the water but my hand is shaking too badly.
‘Shall I call a nurse?’
‘I just… I just want some water.’ Humiliatingly, I can feel tears beginning to fall.
‘I’ll get someone for you.’
I collapse back on the pillows, remembering, as I had in the cellar, that there is no one.
Chapter 50
Jessica, 3rd September
I’m a little fearful about what I will find when I visit Michael in St Thomas’ Hospital. When I last saw him he was being carried out of his house, strapped to the same kind of stretcher that they use for mountain rescues – this was made necessary by the narrow cellar stairs. Michael had been grey in the face but spewing swear words like an irate TV chef as they bore him out of the house before the cameras of the national media. It hadn’t taken those vultures long to circle the carcass of our drama. Michael’s foul language had the advantage, though, that none of them could print or broadcast his words without asterisks and bleeps, so they got barely a repeatable word from him. He instantly became an internet sensation in a few uncensored clips that slipped through on YouTube, telling the press to go fuck themselves sideways.
The paramedic explained to me afterwards that Michael was rip-roaring drunk as he had survived on alcohol and ice cream. I wanted to quip that that was my normal diet but held back, as it wasn’t the right time for jokes. As they packed up, the ambulance guys were saying the press should be ashamed of themselves, filming a seriously injured man in a vulnerable moment. I suspect, however, that Michael won’t be too upset. He got a chance to say what he really felt without his usual gloss and the press have to feel bad about the way it came out. He is now above criticism. After putting him through trial by media, they are now finding themselves castigated, by the few outlets that held back, for failing yet again to learn the lessons of responsible journalism.
I show my ID to the policeman on the door who checks my name against the list of allowed visitors. Inspector Randall only now is taking care that the press don’t get in to maul Michael again. Randall is another one who is facing criticism for the way he’s been handling this case.
‘Anyone else been?’ I ask.
‘His sister, but she didn’t stay long. His parents are coming later. Some uncle is expected tomorrow.’
The retired judge. Good God, that’s enough to polish anyone off.
I enter. Michael turns his head to look at me.
‘Jessica.’ There is more warmth in his tone than I’ve ever heard.
‘Michael, how are you?’
‘Seriously fucked up. Looking on the bright side, it’s an L4 break which means it could be worse. I might even be able to walk short distances one day but will probably be in a wheelchair for most of the time.’
I say nothing, just hold his hand.
‘At least that’s what they think. Because I was lying down there so long there’s a lot of swelling and bruising. They’re going to do some more scans next week, see if there’s any room for improvement on that prognosis. I’ve got cracked ribs too, but that seems rather minor by comparison.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be sorry. Thanks for riding to the rescue.’
‘It was Colette who did that.’
‘Yes, I suppose she did.’ He manages a smile, lips curving in a prickled chin, some grey stubble showing on his upper lip. It annoys me that no one has helped him shave. He would never normally want to be seen like this. I wonder if I should offer but it seems awkwardly intimate, considering where we’ve reached in our relationship. I offer instead what comfort I know I am able to give.
‘I’ve taken Colette to my house temporarily until you get home. I’m keeping her in so she doesn’t run away, but it’s a large flat. Is that OK?’
‘Thanks. I might be in here some time – and then there’s rehabilitation. Not sure where I’ll be for that.’
‘As long as it takes.’ I’ve also adopted an abandoned spaniel, but perhaps he doesn’t need to know that.
We sit in silence for a little while.
‘Go on then. Tell me what happened after you tackled Lizzy,’ he says.
‘You saw that?’
‘The start of it.’
‘It turned out that was a stupid idea as, hello, trained former policewoman? But that’s me – dive in without much prior thought. I ended up with her straddling me, about to bash out my brains with the butt of your cricket bat. Drew hauled her off, kept her in a half-Nelson while I let in the policemen. They were parked outside keeping an eye on the place.’
‘Are you telling me that the police were there all the time – while I was lying in the cellar?’
‘I’m afraid so. Lizzy was the one who showed the original investigator around the house and he was working on the assumption you’d fled. You have to say she had balls. It didn’t cross anyone’s mind that you might still be on the premises, so he only checked the main rooms and that your passport and some clothes had gone – which of course they had, as Lizzy had already taken them. The police are getting a lot of criticism for that.’
‘So the police came and then what?’
‘It was a mess. Lizzie jumped right in and said we’d done it – that Drew and I had pushed you down the stairs and she’d just found us. The ambulance came and carted you off. No one was allowed to talk to you to get the truth, as you were in a bad way.’
‘I was drunk as a lord.’
‘That too.’ I squeeze his hand. ‘Randall and his team turned up and things began to calm down somewhat. We were taken into separate rooms and each asked to account for our movements. I think he was already suspicious of Lizzy. His team had got to the diary and it’s pretty clear from that that Emma was colluding with someone she called Biff.’
‘She always called Lizzy that – a childhood thing.’
‘Randall had been going through their service records and putting it all together.’
‘I’ve heard that he’s meticulous.’
‘Good thing too. Of the three of us, Lizzy had the most to hide. But it was still unclear why she turned on you in such a horrible way.’
‘She told me that in one of her gloating sessions. Revenge. I didn’t let her have Kaitlin.’
‘Oh, OK. Yeah, that makes sense.’ The missing child. In the end it keeps coming back to Emma and her daughter. ‘I thought it might be to cover up the fact that she murdered Jacob.’
‘She did that too? I did wonder if she was responsible, after I found myself at the bottom of the staircase. I think she drugged my coffee to slow my reactions.’
‘I suppose if it worked once, why not again?’
‘She had already opened the cellar door, so all she had to do was manoeuvre me in front of it while I was staggering, and push. I thought I was going to die down there.’
‘You might’ve done, as no one was looking in the house for you. You missed the bit where she produced Emma’s rings as a way of implicating you – that’s why we all thought you had fled. It turns out that Lizzy, as her alter ego, undercover cop Biff, had kept up some contact with Jacob through the eco movement. She was the one who had fed him that information that started him off on the wild goose chase about you and those girls. She played him like a Stradivarius. Her intention was to destroy his credibility in case he found out that Emma had been a policewoman. If he started making wild accusations against you, then who would listen to what he said about her? Plus it was a major pain in the butt for you, potentially career damaging, with whispers and rumours doing the rounds. You only have to pick up a paper to s
ee that allegations of sex abuse taint the target even if they’re innocent. Lizzy had an interest in making your life a misery, as you know.’
‘Yeah, she’s good at that.’
‘I don’t think she expected him to go so far, though. When he broke in and she found the damage after turning off the alarm, she knew he was out of control, and worse, was in danger of finding out far too much. She had to think quickly. I’m guessing she went round there that night when you were in Berlin and I was with Drew, taking the whisky with her. He had no idea it was yours but she was already thinking of a way of making it look like you did it. She turned up – an old pal from the eco movement – to find him railing against the fact that his ex-partner had been in the police. That picture you keep beside the bed was the tipping point – he hadn’t even got to the diary yet.’
‘And when he did, he would find Biff in it?’
‘You’re keeping up – well done. So she thinks, let’s shut him up permanently. If she’s successful, her two problem guys are out of the way – one dead, one in jail. She gets her revenge and rides off into the sunset. She’s not a totally competent assassin, though.’
‘Tell me about it.’ He lifts the sheets covering his legs.
‘For which I am grateful. Anyway, she misjudges the dose and ends up having to bash him over the head before he gets out onto the street to raise the alarm.’
‘Did they find the weapon?’
‘No. She probably chucked it. It could’ve been anything handy in the kitchen. She might’ve made a quick search for the diary but she didn’t see it in Jacob’s messenger bag, which was in another room between the sofa and the wall. Her priority at this point was to get away and she couldn’t risk turning the place upside down. She must’ve frisked Jacob and found the rings in a pocket, but the rest she had to leave. She gets away undetected to slip back to being the innocent neighbour. She knows how crime units work so has been careful not to leave prints or any of her own DNA on the scene. She is aware that it is not a perfect fit-up for you, but enough to ruin you, possibly to jail you – she’s having to improvise quickly here. The main aim was to shut Jacob up, and she succeeded in that. As long as it’s a few days before someone finds the body, they wouldn’t be able to pinpoint time of death, and that gives you opportunity to have done it.’
‘How do you know this? Did she confess?’
‘No, it’s what Inspector Randall thinks happened. I’ll come to her in a moment.’
‘Has something happened to her?’
‘In a manner of speaking. Just to wrap all this up, she takes the ring box, as it has sentimental value to her but she’s also hedging her bets. She can plant it on whichever of us she most wants to implicate. No one, after all, is looking at her, so she doesn’t have to worry about keeping it. Then ta-dah, she gets it out after she’s pushed you down the stairs, and the rest you know. You have to admit, she was a pretty good schemer. I’m still finding it hard to accept the lengths to which she went. Did she have nothing better to do than mess with other people?’
‘She was your hallucination, Jessica.’
‘What?’
‘I told her once that you had nightmares about the Scream. She climbed over the fence, knowing you were sitting on your own, and gave you that scare. She was hoping to push you into having a complete breakdown again so you wouldn’t dig up any more secrets.’
‘You mean I really did see a scary ghost?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did she come over to Feltham and do it to me there too?’
‘I haven’t heard about that one.’
‘It was a few days earlier. I really thought I was losing my grip.’ I get up and go to the window. Michael has a view of Big Ben and the river, pretty jaw-dropping for an NHS bed. ‘So it wasn’t the pills causing me to hallucinate – maybe I can start them again?’
‘Jessica, I don’t think—’
I turn round and grin at him. ‘I’m not your problem any longer, Michael. You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll talk to Charles. He is comping me my treatment, as he thinks I saved your life. We’ve reached an understanding, he and I, but it’s good to know I’m not seeing things.’
‘I can’t swear she went to Feltham. I just know about that time at my house.’
‘It’s OK. I’ll deal with it. It already feels far less scary, now I know I was stalked by a psycho bitch rather than a figment of my imagination.’
He laughs at that, as I intended. ‘I wish I could persuade you to be my problem again, Jessica, but I know I don’t have much to offer a woman anymore.’
Difficult area, that one. ‘Enough with the pity party. You, Dr Harrison, are going to be zooming down the corridors soon in some cool electric wheelchair like Dr Xavier from the X Men – James McAvoy version – and if I know you, there will be a pretty nurse sitting on your lap. Your new book, and no doubt the one you write about all this, will make you a fortune. Celebrity status will return with a new shine after being dunked in the dirt. Everyone is going to be falling over themselves to be nice to you.’ I go to a large bunch of flowers in the corner. ‘See, this has been signed by the principal at Royal Holloway herself, looking forward to seeing you back as soon as possible. Make them eat crow, Michael.’
‘Thank you, Jessica. It might be an overly rosy version of my future, but it’s better than the gloom my sister dished out. I think she’s just scared I’m going to go and live with her.’
‘Michael, it really is early days, but I can’t see you living with her.’
‘God, no, then I absolutely will have to turn into a killer.’
‘You’ll find your way through this.’
‘So are you going to tell me what happened to Lizzy? Has she been arrested?’
‘Ah, here’s the thing. You need to talk to Randall because he’s spitting mad about it.’
‘He’ll probably come in to question me as soon as the doctors give him the all clear.’
‘When he does he’ll tell you that he was about to make the charges of murder, attempted murder, conspiracy to pervert the course of justice and assault, when three senior officers turned up and took Lizzy away with them for further questioning – whisked her right out of Lewisham police station to destination unknown.’
‘What?’
‘Inspector Randall thinks they’re from the special operations unit. They prefer to police their own.’
‘Not when it’s murder, surely?’
‘You’d think not. Randall is afraid he’ll be gagged, so he’s rather hoping you get well enough to blow the gaff. You can say the things he can’t.’
‘Go public that my wife was part of this?’
‘I’m afraid it would involve that, yes. Lizzy might escape a proper trial if you don’t.’
‘But I promised Emma.’
‘I know. But who are you protecting now? Kaitlin?’
He shakes his head.
‘What did happen to her, Michael?’
He lies back on the pillow looking exhausted. I probably shouldn’t have asked. ‘Nothing. I mean, nothing dramatic. Emma named me in her will as Kaitlin’s guardian but I couldn’t look after her – I could barely look after myself. So, to my eternal shame, I broke my word to my dead wife and Kaitlin – Emma’s Katy – was put into temporary foster care. Lizzy predictably wanted Kaitlin to stay with her but I put my foot down. We were both grieving and I already had an inkling that I would never be in a fit state to parent a child. Kaitlin had no living relatives that I knew of, and I was aware that Emma felt it best that Lizzy didn’t have any closer involvement in her upbringing – she told me this in confidence and even today, I’ve just read about it in her last diary, so my memory of our conversation is accurate.’ He gestures to a notebook lying on the bedside table. ‘Emma had been clear that she didn’t want Lizzy to have Kaitlin – pretty astute, considering the outcome. After a few months I didn’t feel any better, so I asked Social Services to place Kaitlin for adoption. I did what I hoped was best in the long
run. I gave Kaitlin away so she could live without shadows.’ He swallows. ‘I’ve never wanted children and I was a hopeless stepdad. Do you really think she would’ve flourished with a man like me, paralysed by grief?’
‘It’s not my place to judge you. If you didn’t want her, then you did the best thing.’ I have to admit that I’m surprised that he would let any part of his beloved Emma go. He wasn’t the hero Emma imagined him, but then again she wasn’t the perfect woman he thought her, was she?
‘I don’t know if it was as simple as not wanting. I know I can be selfish but I was just incapable at that time. Emma thought I’d grow into a good father but she was wrong. I don’t have that in me.’
‘It’s OK, Michael, you don’t have to explain it to me. I just wanted to know where she was – the last missing girl.’
‘She’s still missing.’
‘From her old life she is, but I expect you are right that she’s happier in the new one she found.’ I check the time. ‘I’d better go. Drew is waiting downstairs in the cafe for me.’
‘Thank you for coming to see me.’
‘I’ll come back – at the very least, to tell you how Colette is doing.’
‘And tell Randall to get in here. I’ll try to help him to get justice for Jacob. If it’s publicity he wants, that’s something I seem to have plenty of to share around.’
I lean over and kiss his cheek. ‘Get some pretty nurse to shave you, Michael, before you let the cameras in. I’ll see you soon.’
As I leave, I come across a woman in the corridor, standing next to the policeman. She is in an emerald-green trouser suit and is applying lipstick, one of those shades with a name like Red Fox or Flirty Fuchsia.
‘Hi, have you finished with him?’ she asks.
‘Yeah, he’s all yours.’ I hold the door to let her enter.
‘So, Michael, who shall we sue first?’ she says, striding into the room.
‘I suppose that’s the lawyer?’ I ask the policeman as I let the door close on their conversation.
‘Ms Sally-Ann Brightwell,’ he confirms. ‘She told me she was after the Met and looking forward to her day in court. There goes my pension fund.’
Don’t Trust Me Page 31
