‘Can I see him?’ Rosie asked.
The doctor nodded.
‘Yes, but only briefly. He needs rest and care right now. He’s in the best place, Ms Taylor. We’ll take good care of him.’
Rosie drifted after that, eventually finding herself in the car, only vaguely recalling Iain hooked up to the monitors amid the steady beeps of the medical equipment that confirmed he was still alive.
DI Fletcher was saying something to her, but she didn’t retain much of it. Was the detective hanging around because she was terrified she might do something stupid if left alone? She would never do anything stupid while Sam was alive. If he was dead, she couldn’t offer the same assurance. They might be burying them together if her boy came back to her dead.
‘You’ve got my direct phone number. I mean it, Rosie – if you need to speak to me, don’t hesitate to call. I’ve also given you the telephone number for the police station, the direct line to your father’s ward and The Samaritans’ number, just in case you need it. If I hear anything – and I mean anything – about Sam, I will contact you straight away. I won’t wait, I’ll pass on any news to you immediately. Keep your phone charged, Rosie and make sure you have the ring tone on.’
She kissed Rosie on the forehead. It was an unusual but kind thing to do. DI Fletcher was trying to show Rosie that she cared; it was more than just another job. Rosie appreciated that more than DI Fletcher would probably ever know.
The moment the door was closed, Rosie made sure that it was securely locked, then headed for the kitchen cupboard at the end of the units. Inside were large pharmaceutical bags packed with her medical supplies for that month. Rosie knew precisely how she would get through that night. She began to peel the pills from their foil enclosures. This was how she blotted out the pain.
Chapter Twenty-Three
‘My fucking neighbour!’ was the first thought that went through Rosie’s mind as her eyes pulled into focus, and she recognised the distinctive interior paintwork of Trinity Heights.
‘Hi, Rosie, I’ve got good news for you.’
It was DI Fletcher’s voice. Rosie checked again. This wasn’t her bedroom. It was one of the rooms at the psychiatric hospital. What the hell had happened? She hadn’t intended to kill herself. She just wanted to sleep. It took her a moment to gain control of her speech.
‘How did I get here?’ Rosie asked.
‘We sent an officer round last night, but you wouldn’t answer the door. We had to break it down. You’ve got one hell of a nosey neighbour. She was out in her nightgown and slippers, making all sorts of ridiculous claims about you. I ignored her, just for the record. Anyway, I’ve got good news. We found Sam.’
‘Where? Is he safe? Where did you find him?’
Rosie sat upright in the bed, desperate for news.
‘He was found in a nearby pub. Someone had just left him there. He was perfectly safe – he’d been there for two hours, and nobody had even noticed. They’d all assumed he belonged to somebody else. He slept through the entire thing, according to the locals.’
‘I can’t believe it! Who took him? Was he there all the time?’
Rosie felt a wave of relief wash over her, rinsing away the dark thoughts of the previous night.
‘There was no CCTV in the pub – it was very spit and sawdust, I’m afraid. Nobody had any recollection of who brought Sam in. It could be anybody, Rosie. But he’s safe, don’t worry, he’s been checked over, and he came to no harm.’
‘Can I see him?’ Rosie asked, desperate now to be sure that DI Fletcher wasn’t lying to her.
‘He’s over in Paediatrics, just while they make sure everything is fine. Now, I don’t want you to worry, but he has a member of the council’s social care team with him.’
‘Those bastards are not taking him away from me,’ Rosie began, the anger igniting instantly.
‘Rosie, it’s fine. We brought you here as a precaution. You can leave whenever you want.’
‘They’re not sectioning me?’ Rosie asked.
‘No, it’s fine, Rosie. You can walk out of here whenever you’re ready. I was first to see you in your bedroom. You know you took too many sleeping pills last night, don’t you?’
‘It was an accident.’
DI Fletcher softened her voice.
‘Rosie, it’s okay, I won’t tell anybody. I’ve experienced a nervous breakdown myself in the past. It’s so hard fending off all the questions about your commitment to the job and how you square looking after your kids with a job, especially one like mine. I get it, Rosie. Sometimes you need to shut off your mind. I’d have done the same if one of my kids went missing. But promise me, when you’re back at home safe with Sam, promise me you’ll take the help that’s on offer here. You don’t have to go through it on your own. It’s going to be even harder, with your dad needing some time to recover. Ask for help, Rosie, please. Don’t let it drown you.’
DI Fletcher put her hand on top of Rosie’s and gave it a gentle squeeze.
‘How’s my dad – any news yet?’ Rosie asked.
‘I checked for you first thing this morning. He’s stable. They’re talking about bringing him out of the coma today. There’s no brain damage, that’s the good news. But he was struck on the head, Rosie. Is there anybody who might do that to your father?’
Rosie’s mind started to race. For a split second, she considered sharing everything with DI Fletcher. She genuinely seemed concerned. But how could she prove it? The pictures sent on Facebook had gone, the mystery account now deleted. The rat in her desk drawer at work would be written off as bad luck; it had probably nested there while the desk was in storage. She’d thrown away the pornographic magazine pages and the Chucky doll had been taken away in the last bin collection.
If she shared all that information with DI Fletcher, they’d have her committed. It would be seen as the paranoid delusions of a woman with a history of mental illness; they’d lock her up and throw away the key. And with Iain in the neurological unit – showing early signs of dementia too – what the hell was she going to do? If she ended up in Trinity Heights, there was nobody to care for Sam; he’d go into care, raised by the state. She would be sentencing her son to a life of estrangement, rootlessness and abandonment.
DI Fletcher filled the silence.
‘We think it was a random attack,’ she said. ‘We’re mystified as to why they didn’t take your father’s wallet or phone, but it does look like he was struck from behind. A bloodied stone was found discarded in a bush in the park this morning. It was close to where your dad was discovered. We also don’t know why somebody would take Sam like that. Perhaps it was your father they were after; maybe they were struck by guilt and decided to leave him somewhere safe. I don’t think we’ll ever know, Rosie, not unless your dad saw something. But at least Sam is safe now.’
‘Yes, I’m so grateful for that,’ Rosie replied.
‘Oh, you’ve had some chap called Edward Logan calling you all morning on your mobile phone. I answered it in the end and told him what had happened. What a strange man he is.’
‘What did you tell him?’ Rosie asked.
‘Well, nothing, I have an obligation of confidentiality. I just thought I’d better answer the phone and put him out of his misery. He called eleven times between nine and ten o’clock. Do you owe him money or something?’
‘Blood more like,’ Rosie replied.
DI Fletcher smiled. ‘I told him you wouldn’t be in for work today due to a family emergency. You can fill in the gaps however you please. By the way, you need to put a pin code on that phone of yours. There was no security on it, so I could just help myself to any information on there. It’s a good job I’m one of the good guys!’
‘Yeah, I know,’ Rosie replied, a little sheepish at having been caught out. ‘I’m not a big phone user. It’s mainly for my dad to call me about Sam. I promise I’ll get it sorted. Did Edward say anything else?’
‘Well, it was all rather odd. He started exp
laining which form you’d need to fill in. I’ve never heard anything like it. Just for the record, he wanted you to know that you need to complete a sick form if you’re ill and a leave form if you’re not. And if your absence doesn’t fall into either of those two categories, you’ll need to report to him immediately upon your return to work for a brief interview. What an unusual place of employment you have.’
‘You can say that again,’ Rosie agreed. ‘So, am I free to go now? Can I pick up Sam?’
‘Yes, you can go whenever you’re ready. You’re a voluntary patient. Please make sure you bring along full identification when you go to pick up Sam – like a passport and council tax documents, or they won’t release him to you.’
Rosie’s phone rang from the side of the bed. DI Fletcher picked it up, read the screen, then handed it to her.
‘It’s not that Edward guy again, don’t worry. It’s somebody called Leonie, is that your friend?’
‘Yes. I wonder what she’s calling about,’ Rosie said.
‘I’ll be on my way,’ DI Fletcher mouthed as Rosie picked up the call. She put up her hand to acknowledge what the DI had done for her.
‘Hi, Leonie.’
‘What the hell has been going on?’ Leonie asked. ‘I drove past your house this morning, and the front door was boarded up. What on earth happened?’
Rosie brought her up to speed.
‘Rosie, this isn’t normal. If you need a witness to the Chucky doll, I’ll happily help. You’ve got to tell the police what’s going on.’
‘They’ll think I’m losing my mind again,’ Rosie replied. ‘Come on, Leonie. You know how this works. Don’t give them an inkling that you’re struggling and everything will be okay. Show them any weakness, and you lose your child. You, of all people, know that.’
‘There was some mail on the doorstep. Your letterbox is blocked by the sheet of chipboard that was nailed over it. I assume the postman left it there for you. Anyhow, it’s safe, I’ve got it; you can have it when I next see you. Somebody looks like they’ve sent you a card for your dad already.’
‘What do you mean?’ Rosie asked, immediately tense. ‘Nobody even knows about my dad yet. Open it, will you? What does it look like?’
‘It’s just a coloured envelope with a card inside.’
Rosie listened as she heard the sounds of Leonie balancing her phone under her chin as she tore open the envelope.
‘Oh,’ was all she said.
Rosie didn’t need to see the card to know who it was from.
‘Tell me,’ she instructed Leonie. ‘Don’t protect me. I want to know what’s in it.’
‘There’s a photograph of you. It looks like you’re kneeling by a grave. What an odd photo to send. There’s a message too.’
‘Read it,’ Rosie said.
‘It says Wishing Iain and Sam a speedy recovery. Take care, Rosie. It might be you next time.’
‘Does it have a postmark? Is there a signature?’
‘Nothing,’ Leonie replied. ‘That’s it.’
Rosie felt the despair festering in the pit of her stomach. She sat in silence, Leonie on the other end of the phone, neither of them knowing what to say.
Vera walked into the room as if nothing had happened.
‘Hello trouble,’ she said. ‘Fancy seeing you in here again.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
‘You’re the last person I expected to see here today,’ Haylee said, a look of delight and surprise on her face. ‘Are you okay? The way Edward described things, it sounded like whatever you were off work with was terminal.’
‘It’s not quite that bad, you’ll be pleased to hear,’ Rosie replied. ‘I’m hoping James hasn’t been out for lunch yet. Is he still in the office?’
‘Yes, he’s still here.’
‘I need you to keep a secret for me, Haylee. I’m not coming into work just yet, but I need to see James without causing a big fuss. Can you ring through to his desk and ask him to meet me at the Costa Coffee store just up the road at half-past twelve?’
‘This all sounds very cloak and dagger. Are you two getting it together?’
‘Nothing like that.’ Rosie forced a smile. ‘But I do need to keep Edward off the scent, so I’d be grateful for your help.’
‘No problem,’ Haylee replied. ‘You did the right thing throwing a sickie this morning. It’s been terrible here today, as if someone’s died. Nobody is talking to Edward after the weekend. You could cut the atmosphere with a knife.’
‘I’ll be back tomorrow,’ Rosie replied. ‘Please don’t tell anyone I was here. You know what Edward is like – he’ll have me making up my hours if he knows I can still walk and breathe.’
Haylee looked excited by the thought of conspiracy. The intrigue had probably made her day. Rosie had often wondered how Haylee’s brain hadn’t died putting phone calls through to the offices all day. She thanked her for her help and headed for the stairs, to avoid being spotted by any of her colleagues. Thirteen floors up – no wonder nobody ever used the staircase. At least the walk down would be a lot easier than the walk up had been. Her legs ached with the effort of it.
The sparse, concrete staircase echoed as she began her downwards journey. As she turned the corner onto the landing, she saw Mackenzie, smoking a cigarette. Rosie hadn’t come dressed for the workplace. She was wearing the same trainers as when Sam was snatched the day before, having come in a taxi directly from Trinity Heights.
Mackenzie hadn’t seen or heard her. Placed on the floor at her side was a white paper bag, a packet of crisps and a can of Fanta.
Rosie felt like a naturalist who’d just spotted a rare creature that was utterly unaware it was being observed. She stood completely still and silent as Mackenzie took a drag on the cigarette and defiantly blew the smoke out of her mouth. Then she stubbed out the cigarette on the floor, pushed it with her foot into the corner and popped a mint in her mouth. She stooped down to pick up the paper bag, unfolded the end of it, removed the sandwich that was contained within it, lifted the top slice of bread, then spat in it. Rosie knew immediately who that sandwich was for.
She stood completely still, wondering whether she should let Mackenzie know that she was there. She didn’t have much choice. It was almost midday. The staff would be teeming out into the lifts shortly. She would be unable to leave the building without being spotted. Besides, she’d just figured out the final part of her plan, and it suited her to have Mackenzie owing her a favour.
‘Wouldn’t you be better putting mayo on that?’ she said.
Mackenzie turned around immediately with a look of shock.
‘How long have you been there?’ she asked.
‘Long enough to see you spitting into Edward’s sandwich.’
She waited to see how Mackenzie would respond. Fight or flight?
‘Well, he’s a right tosser anyway,’ she said. It looked like it was going to be the fight option. ‘Don’t tell me you wouldn’t cough all over his food, given half the chance.’
Rosie thanked her lucky stars that Mackenzie had found work experience at a supply chain company rather than a local eatery; she was much less of a hazard in an office environment.
‘What are you doing in the stairwell?’ Mackenzie asked. ‘None of you oldies ever use the stairs. It’s why most of you are so fat.’
Mackenzie was off the back foot and delivering the blows once again. Rosie knew she’d need to move fast, for fear of the conversation running away from her.
‘I won’t tell if you don’t,’ she said. ‘There’s not a person in that office who wouldn’t want to put much worse in Edward’s sandwich.’
‘I thought you were away today?’ Mackenzie interrupted. ‘Something about family crap, Edward said.’
Rosie needed to cover her tracks, especially as the first person Mackenzie would be heading for on her return to the office was Edward.
‘Can you keep a secret, Mackenzie?’ Rosie said. She was playing with fire, but she had to take the chan
ce. ‘I was sneaking by to drop some paperwork in with Haylee. I didn’t want to get caught in the office after the weekend. You know what a dick Edward can be. I’ll keep quiet about the extra ingredient in his sandwich. Oh, by the way, smoking on the premises is a sackable offence too – Edward would have a field day if he knew about that.’
Mackenzie almost managed a smile.
‘It makes the cigarettes taste twice as good, knowing what that idiot would say,’ she replied. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t say anything. I hate this shitty apprenticeship, but it’s better than anything else that’s on offer at the moment.’
Rosie decided to make her move. To get ahead of her current problems, she would need Mackenzie’s help.
‘You know you offered to babysit for me?’ she began.
Mackenzie was the last person she wanted to leave Sam with, but bearing in mind he’d been partially abducted the day before, it seemed to be the least of her problems.
Mackenzie looked up at her, with a look of mild interest on her face.
‘Could you do a two-hour trial for me this evening? I’ll pay you.’
‘How much?’
Rosie was heartened to see that job satisfaction played a crucial factor in Mackenzie’s decision-making process.
‘Five pounds an hour.’
‘Done! That’s more than I get paid here. What time do you want me there?’
‘Is seven o’clock okay? I’ll pay your tube fare as well. You know where I live already, I take it?’
Mackenzie had the decency to display at least a little shame.
‘Yeah, I look up all the staff on Google Maps to see where they live. It’s boring otherwise. Your house is nice.’
Rosie felt a small shiver running through her body. Nothing was private any more – a teenager like Mackenzie could do everything but peer through her bedroom window via her computer. What else had she been up to while she was moving files around the office?
‘So, seven o’clock, Mackenzie. Please do your best to get there on time. I’ll see you later.’
Two Years After ; Friends Who Lie ; No More Secrets Page 13
