Alex’s happiness diminished a little. Everything was going well for her for the first time in ages, and the thought of what she must do filled her with fear. She could choose to ignore what she should do and go on with her life the way it was now, forgetting the past and even accepting that the terrible night with the psychopath was all in her mind. Richard Sickert had said as much. She could face the man who had attacked her last year by herself at another time.
She could ignore her conscience and make herself believe that no other woman would ever be in danger from him again. She could even let him get away with it.
When it first happened she had been unable to watch television for fear of seeing him, but then gradually she relaxed enough to allow herself to watch the occasional drama without reading the synopsis and checking the cast list. Fortunately, she had not had to suffer his face staring back at her from the screen, and had wondered not so long ago if he’d gone off to Hollywood or was doing theatre instead. She hoped not. She hoped the reason for not seeing him on the telly was because he was out of work and his profile was fading. The thought of actively seeking him out or looking him up on the Internet brought a sickness to her stomach.
There lay her dilemma. He was still terrorising her and still controlling her life.
‘Will you help me?’
Maggie nodded firmly. ‘You know I will.’
Alex was shaking. ‘I can’t phone him, Maggie. I need you to sort it out. I’ll meet with him, but I can’t make the arrangements.’
Maggie moved forward and hugged her. ‘I’ll do it. But remember, we are doing this together.’
*
‘It was easy,’ Maggie said as she came into the kitchen waving sheets of paper in the air. ‘I googled him and I’ve just come off the phone to his agent.’
Alex continued buttering the toasted bagels, stirring the scrambled egg, pouring water into the teapot. She didn’t ask any questions.
‘Did you hear me?’ Maggie asked.
She nodded.
‘He’s played bit parts in Holby City, Casualty and Lewis, and is now preparing to play a part in a period drama. Guess where the period drama is set, Alex?’ Maggie asked.
‘He’s in Bath, isn’t he?’ she said, laying down the wooden spoon and turning to face her.
Maggie nodded. ‘He’s here right now. His agent has given me his mobile number and I’m going to ring him and set up a meeting for this evening.’
‘He might not meet with me.’
‘He will,’ Maggie said firmly. ‘I’ll leave him no choice.’
The smell and sight of the food was making Alex nauseous and she moved away from the Aga. She wrung her hands and then folded her arms in agitation. ‘I’m not ready. I won’t know what to say.’
‘Stage it, Alex. Play the part. Take control. If what you went through is all in your mind – the abduction, the rape threat, a death threat – because of what he did to you last year, this could be your way of facing both situations. Face him, Alex. Don’t let this man control you any longer. Put yourself back in that car park. Wear the clothes you wore on the night. Look him in the eye and I bet you will quickly realise that he is your real nightmare and what happened to you in the car park several weeks ago only took place in your mind because of what he did to you. He made you vulnerable, Alex, and he made you afraid.’
Alex smiled tearfully. ‘The only problem with this is I no longer have the dress. The police do. It hasn’t been returned to me yet. I have another dress that’s similar, my bridesmaid’s dress, but it’s still at the drycleaner’s. I’m not even sure I know where the ticket is for it. It’s been there since my sister got married, because I can’t bear to look at it.’
Maggie crossed the floor and hugged her. ‘I’ll get it back. You don’t have to think about it. Go and lie down on my bed and sleep for the rest of the day. Watch telly or finish my crossword for me. I’m stuck on 13 down.’
Alex smiled, looking more in control this time. She picked up the newspaper from the kitchen island and saw most of the cryptic crossword puzzle was filled in. She read number 13. ‘Rearing – becoming more incensed (7)’.
‘It’s an anagram,’ she said. ‘Rearing makes the word, Angrier. It’s what I should be. Angry. And then I wouldn’t be afraid.’
Chapter thirty-nine
The theatres were closed down immediately, operations cancelled and staff taken elsewhere for questioning. Nobody was allowed into the department other than the police.
Greg had toured the area thoroughly, checking there were no other exits and entrances into the theatre suite. The killer had walked through the same door as he had, murdered Fiona Woods, and then exited the same way. He had CCTV footage immediately confiscated so that it could be checked. He’d organised a full-scale murder investigation, talked with numerous officers, met and briefed senior staff, and delegated junior staff tasks – all the while with a heavy heart.
Dr Taylor could not be found, and Peter Spencer could not locate her vehicle; officers headed by Laura Best had been searching for her for the entire morning. Her colleagues and family were being questioned at this very moment. Greg had got a call from one of the officers down in the emergency department with information about a doctor named Nathan Bell who had spent the night with her. His story was being checked and her flat was being searched for any evidence that would direct them to where she was now.
The rumour circulating was that she had gone into hiding after brutally murdering her friend because she had discovered the planned meeting between Laura Best and the dead nurse.
Laura had explained that she was supposed to meet Fiona Woods at the hospital the day before, at seven o’clock in the staff canteen. The nurse hadn’t shown, and when Laura checked with her colleagues she was told she’d gone off duty in the early evening and was due back on this morning. Laura was certain that Fiona Woods was going to tell her something important about Dr Taylor, relating to something that had happened to her a year ago. Fiona Woods had told Laura that the doctor was beginning to worry her. Their consultant, Caroline Cowan, had been brought into A & E yesterday after a car collision and Alex Taylor was trying to get the consultant to believe that the person who drove into the back of her car was the same person who abducted Alex from the car park. The driver in question had in fact reported the accident yesterday evening; his lame excuse for leaving the scene was that he had a meeting.
Greg didn’t know what to think. He certainly couldn’t think of her as a murderer yet. More than anything he was worried about her, the warm and caring woman he had briefly got to know; he was concerned for her safety. If she was involved, and he prayed she was not, would she do something stupid to herself?
Only two other officers were in the room when he arrived back at the crime scene – Peter Spencer and the police photographer. Fiona Woods was still wedged inside the lift, as the pathologist has not yet given permission to move the body. He was out in the corridor on his phone and had made a preliminary examination while the body was still in situ. He would be back in shortly.