Like This, for Ever

PART THREE





51




Saturday 8 March

OFTEN, IN THE other world, Lacey tried to picture the hall where those who were imprisoned physically met with those who served time in other ways, and could never do it. Yet once inside, it became as familiar as her own bedroom. Creamy yellow, scuff-marked walls, dust collecting in corners, high barred windows that never seemed to show anything but grey cloud. Often, when she was in here, Lacey felt as though she’d been in this large, dusty, echoing space for ever and that the world outside was nothing more than vague memories and mostly forgotten dreams.

‘So how long since anything’s happened?’ the prisoner asked.

‘Nearly three weeks,’ said Lacey. ‘Two weeks, four days, to be precise, since Oliver Kennedy was found alive and well. The clocks will go forward soon, the evenings will be light again. People are actually starting to wonder if it’s over.’

Pretty eyes blinked and narrowed. ‘Has there been a deathbed confession?’

‘Not that I’m aware of.’

‘Then it’s not over. If he’s still alive, he’s planning that someone else won’t be.’

‘You sound very sure of yourself.’

Shoulders rose, fell, the prisoner rolled her eyes and pulled a face. ‘You’re right,’ she agreed. ‘What could I possibly know about serial killers?’

‘And there was I, thinking the police and the medical profession had black humour all sewn up.’

‘You want to spend some time in a high-security prison.’

‘If DI Tulloch has her way, I probably will.’

Across the room something fell and shattered. There was a scurry of movement, a muttering of recrimination. Sound always seemed much louder in here, shrill and grating, and when someone yelled, Lacey could almost feel the vibrations spinning round in her eardrums.

‘I take it diplomatic relations have not been resumed?’

‘She’s had me into the station three times,’ Lacey said. ‘She clearly doesn’t believe I know nothing more about the discovery of Tyler King’s body than I’ve already told them.’

‘She’s a cow. But in fairness to her, you do.’

‘Hardly. Without any evidence of where that text came from, all I have is a hunch I can’t prove. And yet she has someone watching my flat every Tuesday and Thursday. I’m sure she’d have it searched if she could get a warrant.’

‘She’s jealous.’

‘Of what, exactly? My meteoric career? Dazzling social life?’

‘She’s jealous because he loves you.’

Lacey told herself not to grin like a halfwit, that it really made no difference whether he did or he didn’t. Except, wasn’t the belief that he did, in spite of everything, the reason she was able to go on?

‘She’s gay,’ Lacey said.

Hazel-blue eyes twinkled. ‘Maybe she’s jealous because you love him.’

‘I’m not going to dignify that—’

‘Yeah, yeah, so are you still seeing the shrink?’

‘Don’t have a choice on that one if I want to keep my job.’

Eyebrows twitched. Eyelids narrowed. ‘You haven’t resigned then?’

Lacey braced herself for an argument. Or an I-told-you-so moment. ‘I haven’t changed my mind. I’m just not prepared to leave under a cloud.’

‘That’s my girl. Does seem a bit of a waste, though, when you can get all the therapy you need here for free.’

‘And believe me, you do me much more good.’

The prisoner leaned forward an inch or so and tipped her head first one way and then the other. Then she sat back and stared for several long seconds without speaking. ‘Hmm,’ she said eventually. ‘You sure?’

Half-amused, Lacey waited the silence out. As if she was going to fall for the steely-eyed stare. Hadn’t she taught it to this girl in the first place? Sure enough, fewer than ten seconds had gone by before boredom set in.

‘So, what’s the latest on Peter Sweep?’

‘What do you know about Peter Sweep? You can’t be allowed to use Facebook?’

‘Not officially. But we can access the internet under supervision. And nobody pays too much notice. Why would they? All the porn channels are blocked. So, go on, Peter Sweep?’

‘The official line is that he was a time-waster,’ said Lacey. ‘Some nut milking the case for his own twisted ends. He wanted attention, to be the centre of a massive media storm, and got rather more than he’d bargained for. The reaction to his kidnapping of Oliver put the wind up him and he’s lying low.’

‘As, coincidentally, is the killer.’

‘Peter Sweep isn’t the killer, the MIT have been very clear about that.’

‘And of course they’re never wrong. Now, when are you going to tell me what’s up with you?’

Somehow they never stayed on safe ground for very long. Lacey shook her head. ‘I’m OK. I’m struggling with that business in Cambridge, but I’m coping.’

Silence. She was getting the steely-eyed treatment again. Well, that was OK, she just had to sit it out.

Seconds ticked by. At least six, maybe she even made it to seven.

‘I’ve done something really stupid,’ she said, and could feel the tears smarting behind her eyes.

The other woman was marble still. ‘I doubt that, but I’m listening.’

Lacey tried to smile, didn’t quite make it. Then she tugged the sleeve of her sweater up over her wrist. She untied the knot and started to unravel the bandage. The girl reached out and stopped her.

‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘I know what you did.’

‘It’s like scratching an itch,’ said Lacey, as though pleading to be understood. ‘Once you think about it, you can’t not do it.’

‘Does it help?’

‘Yes. It really does. It’s like a drug. Like Valium. The scream that’s been building up inside me just melts away.’

‘Until the next time?’

Really no need to answer that. Overcome with shame, Lacey dropped her eyes to the Formica tabletop. When she finally looked up, the face opposite hers was that of a crestfallen child.

‘I really screwed you up, didn’t I?’ said the prisoner.

A damp film was swimming across Lacey’s vision. Tears were very close. ‘I think I managed that one by myself,’ she answered.

‘Ten minutes, ladies!’ called the officer on duty. There was a general flurry around the room as people began the process of getting ready to leave.

‘How’s Mark?’ asked the prisoner.

Lacey sighed. ‘Avoiding me. I haven’t seen him since – well, since he found out I’m not as tough as he likes to believe. I don’t know, maybe he thinks I had something to do with the murders as well. He started out believing me guilty of everything, maybe he’s just reverting to form.’

‘Ever thought of telling him the truth?’

A long silence. Visitors were starting to leave the room. Prisoners were filing out of a door at the back.

‘No, you’re right. You can’t. And you can’t be with someone and keep a tiny piece of yourself back.’

‘This is not a tiny piece we’re talking about,’ said Lacey, keeping her voice low, as people passed close by. ‘It’s who I am. And not with him, no. For some reason, he’s the one person I can’t hide anything from. Apart from you, of course.’

‘You really do love him, don’t you?’

Lacey leaned back in her chair. Love him? Did that really, honestly, come anywhere close?

‘If I wasn’t around, you could be with him.’

All the light had left the other woman’s face. Lacey knew instinctively she was deadly serious. She sat upright again.

‘I’m not sure where you’re going with this, but I think you need to stop,’ she said.

Simultaneously, both women stood. ‘Maybe we need to face facts,’ said the other. ‘If I disappear, you’re safe. Nothing to tie you to what happened before. Nothing for anyone to find out.’

‘I’m not listening.’ Lacey bent to pick up her bag, blood pounding in her ears.

‘I’ll do it. For you. I’ll do it gladly.’

‘Stop it. Now.’

Around them, faces were turning their way. Violence erupted so swiftly and suddenly in these situations, everyone was constantly on their guard.

‘You are the one person I can be myself with,’ said Lacey, not caring who heard, as long as the girl in front of her got the message. ‘If I didn’t have this time with you, I’d be lost.’

‘If you lost me, you could have him.’

A heartbeat. A decision, made years ago, never articulated before.

‘Then I choose you. Do you hear me? I choose you.’