He understood that her biggest frustration was her inability to speak clearly and some days the effort of communicating all that occurred in her head through eye movement tired her.
But between them they had a pact. On the darker days, he would ask her if she’d had enough. William had told her years ago that he would always respect her wishes and that he would never prolong her life through his own selfish needs.
On those days he would ask her the question and hold his breath while he waited for the answer. The hesitations had grown longer, while the breath in his chest grew fuller, but so far he’d always received one blink.
He dreaded the day it all got too much for her to bear and he received two blinks. He only hoped he had the strength to keep his promise. For her sake.
William pushed the thought away. Yesterday had been a good day. Lucy had had a visitor.
William hadn’t recognised her at first. The young girl introduced herself as Paula Andrews and after studying her for a few seconds he had remembered her as the granddaughter of Mary Andrews who had used to visit with her grandmother to play with Lucy. He had been genuinely saddened when Mary had recently passed away. She had been a great friend to him during his years at Crestwood. Her burial had taken place a few days earlier and although he had not attended he had watched the funeral procession from his bedroom window.
Lucy had recognised Paula instantly and had been delighted with the visit. Within minutes they had formed their own method of communication from which William had been excluded. He had never been happier.
To her credit, Paula had shown no reaction to the physical change in her old friend.
He had skulked away to the kitchen for a few moments, nervous for the wellbeing of his daughter. He would never stop anyone visiting with his child but he was powerless to bring about their return. But he accepted that he could not protect her from every disappointment life had to offer.
Somehow the two girls had found a way to play a board game. He had heard Paula exclaim, ‘Lucy Payne, you haven’t changed a bit. You were always a little cheat.’
William had heard Lucy’s gurgle which he knew to be a laugh and his heart had leaped.
He had ventured outside for just half an hour and pulled out a few weeds from between the slabs, safe in the knowledge that his daughter was okay. Just those few minutes in the cold morning air had revitalised him for the rest of the day.
Two hours later, Paula had sought his permission to visit again.
He had given it gladly.
He took the porridge through to the living room and sat on the footstool. Lucy’s complexion was rosy and bright, her eyes alert and focused. Today was a good day. Paula’s visit had been good for both of them.
‘Don’t you ever get bored of porridge?’
One blink.
He rolled his eyes. She copied. He laughed out loud.
He brought a spoonful of oats to her mouth. She took it and scrunched her face in appreciation. The second spoonful was on its way when the doorbell sounded.
He placed the dish on the windowsill.
He opened the door and panic rose in him immediately.
Before him stood a male and female both dressed in black trouser suits. He carried a briefcase but she had a shoulder bag.
He immediately thought of social services but they were not due for a visit and they always let him know first. In the early days following the departure of his wife, William had been forced into battle with the authorities to keep his daughter. He had jumped through hoops and performed like a circus animal to show that he was capable. Sensing his determination, social services had started to work with him to keep the two of them together and the job at Crestwood had sealed the deal. But still, the fear lived within him that one day he would lose her.
‘Mr Payne, Mr William Payne?’
He nodded.
The female smiled widely and took a business card from her pocket. ‘My name is Hannah Evans from Enterprise Electronics. We’re here to see Lucy.’
‘But ... I don’t ... what?’
She rubbed her hands together and blew into them. ‘Mr Payne, may we come in?’
William stepped aside.
Hannah Evans stepped into the lounge and stood before his daughter. The man sat and opened his briefcase.
‘Good morning, Lucy. My name is Hannah and I am very pleased to meet you.’
Her smile was open and warm, her tone friendly and calm, unlike the condescending tone used by most adults.
‘Are you well today?’
Lucy blinked.
‘That means yes,’ William offered.
Hannah remained where she was and smiled in his direction. ‘I know that, Mr Payne. The language of blinking is quite common in people with communication limitations.’
Hannah Evans rolled her eyes at his daughter, who gurgled in response.
‘Umm ... excuse me,’ William said, bewildered. ‘But I don’t understand who you are or what you are doing here.’
‘It’s really quite simple, Mr Payne. We specialise in the most advanced technological systems that can be operated with the least amount of physical activity. We, as a company, exist to make life far more exciting and interesting for people with physical restrictions.’
William’s mind was spinning. ‘But I don’t get it. I haven’t spoken to ... I have no money for ...’
‘My understanding is that the cost has been taken care of.’ She held up her hands. ‘That is not my area of the business and I have my instructions.’
William felt as though he had been transported to an alternate universe. His mind scrambled for answers but he found none.
Hannah turned her attention back to his daughter.
‘Lucy, I have only one question. Do you have control of at least one finger?’
Two blinks.
Hannah smiled widely at William. ‘Then I think there is much we can do here.’
Seventy-Eight
Kim looked at the offering before her and decided that Aunt Bessie was a damn liar.
She placed the ingredients box next to her own attempt just removed from the oven for comparison. Nope, no amount of icing or glittery embellishments would save them.
Kim threw the box in the bin. She felt betrayed.
She raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘I try, Erica. I promise, I try.’
She heard the sound of a knock on the front door.
‘It’s open,’ she called.
Bryant entered wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, carrying a pizza box.
‘Missed you at work today,’ he said, placing the box on the counter top.
She rolled her eyes. ‘Woody’s order and I dare not ignore any more ‘cos this cat's on its last life.’
‘Is that what he said?’
She nodded and counted off her fingers. ‘Apparently I notched up two formal complaints about my attitude. I disregarded direct instructions on three occasions and failed to follow correct protocols ...’ she counted off the rest of her fingers, ‘... well, at least that many times.’
Bryant's head fell into his waiting hands. ‘Oh Lord, was it brutal?’
Kim thought for a moment and nodded. ‘Yeah, pretty much. He had quite a lot to say.’
‘And what did you say?’
‘I told him that his model was missing the cantilever springs from the rear axle.’
Bryant roared with laughter and she joined in. She supposed it was kind of funny in hindsight.
But it was her way of saying thank you. She was under no illusion that she should have lost her job. And Woody had been clear that it was only the results that had saved her.
Had even one of her hunches been wrong, The Bowl would now belong to someone else.
This case had brought her closer to losing the most important thing in her life and yet it had been worth it.
‘How long has he given you for the other thing?’
Kim growled as she took down two mugs from the cupboard. ‘A month.’
&
nbsp; ‘Jeez, how you gonna get out of that?’
Kim shrugged. She had four weeks to speak with a psychologist or face suspension.
‘You don’t think he’d actually go through with it, do you?’
Kim recalled the resolute expression on Woody’s face. ‘Oh yeah, he’ll do it.’
‘Well, you’ll be pleased to know that Richard Croft was looking much better earlier.’
‘He was?’
‘Well, he was until I read him his rights.’
Kim would have liked to have been there for that. ‘Oh, do tell me that Mrs Croft was present?’
‘She most certainly was. For a few seconds she bore a resemblance to a constipated camel but she recovered quickly enough to gather up her laptop and paperwork, stating that her lawyer will be in touch.’
‘With us?’
‘With Richard. I smell a speedy divorce somewhere in his future.’
‘What did he say?’
‘Oh, he confirmed that Victor was the one that killed Beth. The rest of them just helped bury the body. He said it was the idea of Teresa Wyatt to start the fire to cause confusion with the records and the runaways and the girls who had already been relocated.’
‘Do you believe him?’
‘I dunno. Doesn’t really matter. He’ll get a decent lawyer, but he’ll do jail time without a doubt. More importantly, his life as he knew it is over. His wife, house, career and probably his kids are gone.’
Kim didn't speak. There was nothing to say. She felt nothing but revulsion for Richard Croft. He had escaped with his life.
Bryant looked thoughtful. ‘Do you reckon Victor Wilks is all bad? I mean, I know what he's done but he worked the estate and stuff so maybe there was some good in him.’
Sometimes Bryant seemed younger than his years. She was just sorry that she was the one who had to tell him that Father Christmas wasn't real.
She shook her head. ‘No, Bryant. He was attracted to places devoid of hope and filled with despair, where he could project himself as a beacon of hope amongst the misery. That was his true gratification, his true power trip. Sex with frightened, vulnerable, young girls fulfilled a physical need within him. He placed himself in environments where accusations of rape would be far harder to prove and anyone who became problematic was disposed of.
‘He killed them and enjoyed it. He did it because he could and because he felt justified in ending the life of anyone who obstructed him. There will be victims of Wilks’ that originated from Hollytree and however hard it is to swallow we may never uncover them all.’
The sprawling estate had notched up eighteen runaways since Victor's return two years earlier. Add in the disappearances of girls unreported by family members who had not noticed or didn't care and that figure probably doubled.
‘Bastard,’ Bryant muttered.
Kim agreed but she consoled herself with the thought that Victor Wilks would never walk free again.
‘Did you find the car?’ she asked.
He nodded. ‘Garage behind the apartments registered to Nicola Adamson. White Audi with a dented front wing.’
Kim shook her head. Try as she might, she could not muster any sympathy for Teresa Wyatt, Tom Curtis, Richard Croft or Arthur Connop. Together with Victor Wilks, they had hidden the deaths of three young girls and denied them justice for a decade, all to hide their own sordid secrets. Every single one of them had found a way to abuse them some more.
Even worse, they had been instrumental in the death of another innocent whose only crime had been wanting to wear her sister’s pink cardigan.
‘I’m curious, Kim, what made you first think it was two separate killers?’
‘Manner of death,’ she answered. ‘As we uncovered the girls it was obvious that they had been killed with a great deal of physical force and yet the current murders were not. No effort was required to push Teresa under the water. Tom’s throat was cut from behind, Arthur was knocked over with a car and Richard was stabbed in the back. All methods that called for cunning, patience and stealth, not physical strength.’
‘What about the fire at Teresa’s house? What was the point of that?’
‘There was a very thin layer of snow on the ground, Bryant. There would have been a lot of forensic evidence to find with footprints and even the walking stick but eight firefighters, two tenders and a high-powered hose soon destroyed that.’
‘Clever.’
‘Exactly, so it had to be a woman.’
‘Yeah, but she got caught.’
‘Yeah, by a woman.’
Bryant rolled his eyes and groaned all at the same time.
He sobered. ‘How do you think Nicola will react when she realises the truth?’
Kim shrugged. ‘It really wasn’t Nicola that did it. It was Beth.’
Bryant looked doubtful. ‘You really believe that?’
Bless him, he was a meat and potatoes man.
‘Oh yes, Bryant, I do.’
‘It’s all a bit X-Files for me.’
Kim sighed. ‘Beth only came back in Nicola’s time of need, when she was ill or frightened. Nicola’s subconscious used her like a security blanket. Nicola never fully accepted that her sister was dead. Her subconscious mind blocked the memories so that she could live. It protected her from the guilt.
‘Now imagine that, as Beth, Nicola’s memories were readily available. She had access to the overheard conversation in the office, she had access to the knowledge of what occurred so although Nicola couldn’t access the memories, her alter ego could.’
Kim fully believed that Nicola’s conscious mind was oblivious to the fact that her subconscious mind had brought back Beth. And after meeting ‘Beth’, she was in no doubt that it had not been an act.
She turned to Bryant. ‘Try and imagine someone’s psyche splitting in half. Nicola had control of normal day to day activities. She was able to function adequately but someone else had control of her subconscious mind.’
He shook his head. ‘Nah, still not buying it ‒ and I don’t think a jury will either.’
Kim suspected Bryant was right but she doubted that Nicola would ever be declared competent to stand trial. For Kim, the internal struggle between Nicola and Beth had been evident at the crime scenes of both Teresa and Tom. The arrival of the police had been expedited on both occasions. Some part of the split psyche had wanted to be stopped.
Nicola was not a bad or evil person and her punishment would come as the memories returned to her.
Kim knew first hand that survivor guilt had the power to shape a mind; and that was why she prayed her own boxes never got opened.
‘How do you think Wilks managed to stay alive?’
‘More luck than judgement,’ Kim said. ‘He would have been next and she would have got him.’
Bryant shook his head. ‘One thing I don't understand is how the hell did it go unnoticed that there was only one twin?’
‘The records were a mess, Bryant. Remember, the place was already being emptied. The records of the runaways were not up-to-date and on the night of the fire just about everyone was producing lists. The ambulance service was removing girls to hospital to be checked. It was chaos and that was the intention. No two lists from that night match up.’
‘But why didn't Nicola speak up?’
‘The kid was terrified. She was convinced they would realise their mistake with the cardigan and come looking for her.’
‘What about Mary Andrews? Do you think that was Nicola or Beth or whoever the hell it was?’
Kim shook her head. ‘There was no evidence to suggest that she died of anything other than the disease. Mary was the only one not present or mentioned that day so Nicola had no reason to target her.’ Kim sighed heavily. ‘I think Mary Andrews was the only person any of them could trust. Except for William, who worked nights, every single one of them found some way to exploit these girls even further. Is it any wonder they weren't girl scouts?’
‘That's a charitable way of putting it,??
? Bryant offered.
She opened her mouth to argue the point but closed it again. Bryant believed that a moral code was ingrained into the conscience at birth. He believed it to be as genetic as eye colour or height. Kim knew it wasn't. Conscience, and use of it, was a learned behaviour. It came from good examples and strong role models. The inherent difference between right and wrong is perfected throughout life and not pre-printed on the brain.
The social background of Tracy, Melanie and Louise dictated that those codes would forever be warped. Just as abused children often go on to abuse.
Bryant would never be convinced but Kim knew ‒ because she had been there. And a three-year interval had saved more than her life.
Bryant took a sip of his coffee. ‘So, what was going on between you and the Doc? There was definitely a meeting of the minds.’
‘Bryant,’ she warned.
‘Oh come on, Kim. Given more time there would have been sparks.’
‘And what do sparks cause?’
‘Fire,’ he said, opening his eyes wide.
‘And have you ever known a fire without damage?’
Bryant opened his mouth, thought for a second and then closed it again. ‘There really is no answer to that.’
‘Precisely.’
‘Probably a good thing,’ Bryant said, thoughtfully. ‘The Doc was a bit too much like you.' He smirked. 'Jesus, imagine the kids you would have ...’
‘Bryant, I think you should mind your own damn business,’ she snapped. Sometimes he knew her a little too well.
And yet, if she met Daniel again, who knew?
‘Yeah, I probably should but it’s unlikely that I will.’
Kim smiled. ‘How’s life at Battersea Dog’s Home?’
‘Pups are doing well. They’re all taken. My niece is having Pebbles. Bam Bam is going to the neighbour. Yogi has been reserved by my daughter’s best friend and Boo Boo is going to Stacey’s sister.’
‘You haven’t saddled the poor things with those names for life, have you?’
Bryant shook his head. ‘Nah, just so we can tell them apart for now.’
‘What about the mum?’
‘She’ll be staying with me. She’s only four and the vet estimates she’s had three litters already. Her work is done.’