on his, his tongue was in her mouth. Locked with hers, exploring.
He felt her body pressed against his, felt his erection spring right up.
She pulled back from him, smiling all the while.
‘That’s better,’ she said.
She pulled at the silk tie of her robe. Slid it apart. He saw what she was wearing underneath. It took his breath away.
‘I hope you don’t think I was being presumptuous,’ she said, working the robe slowly over her shoulders, letting it fall down her back. Knowing his eyes were devouring her black-underwear-clad body, her stockinged legs. ‘But I think you feel the same way about me as I do about you, don’t you?’
‘But… don’t you have… have something to tell me…?’
‘Later,’ she said. ‘First, this. Is that OK with you?’
Mickey didn’t answer. Just pulled the silk robe all the way off her.
Made no pretence at not responding any more.
Didn’t think about anything but devouring Lynn Windsor’s body.
73
Phil ran down the corridor, fast as he could. But Samuel was quicker. Whoever he was, thought Phil as he ran, the man certainly knew the layout of the building.
He had picked up the child. The boy was so small and thin, he had fitted under his arm. Allowed Samuel to move more quickly.
Phil reached the end of the corridor, found himself at a crossroads. He stopped, looked round, bent double, hands on knees, while he caught his breath. The corridors all looked alike to him. He hadn’t been reading the ward signs as he ran, just following Samuel. He didn’t know whether he had been down here before. He looked to his right, his left, straight ahead. Couldn’t see any sign of the man or the boy. He listened. Hoping to hear screams, commotion. Follow the trail.
Nothing. Except his own ragged breathing.
Then: a scream. From the corridor on his left. He looked down there, could see nothing. The scream continued. Accompanied by the sound of running feet. Chest aching, Phil gave chase.
He ran, seeing the main entrance up ahead. People were milling about, staff, patients and visitors alike. Screams and sobbing. Phil ran to the doors. He was grabbed by a security guard.
‘Stay inside, please, sir, it’s not safe.’
Phil tried to shrug him off. The security man tightened his grip.
‘I said stay inside. The police have been called.’
Phil fumbled in his jacket pocket, flashed his warrant card.
‘Sorry, sir… ’ The guard let him go.
Phil ran through the double doors. Samuel was standing outside the building, the boy in front of him. Whenever someone made a move towards him, he brandished the gun.
‘Get back,’ he was shouting, ‘get back, please… ’ He sounded exhausted, tearful.
Phil stepped in front of him. Samuel immediately swung the gun towards him.
‘Please, just… just leave me alone… ’
‘Let the boy go,’ said Phil, moving towards him. ‘Come on, Samuel, just let him go… ’
The gun was still pointing at Phil. ‘No… stay there… ’ Pleading with him.
He walked towards the gunman.
‘Get back!’
‘It’s over, Samuel. It ends now.’
‘I’ll… I’ll shoot you… ’
‘No you won’t.’ Phil kept walking, across the car park.
‘Yes, yes… I will… ’
Phil stopped. A 4x4 was racing towards them, showing no signs of slowing down. He jumped back, out of the way. Samuel stayed where he was. The 4x4 screeched to a halt, the passenger-side door opening. Phil saw movement.
The boy had gone.
He ran forward. The driver’s face was hidden. The passenger looked back at him.
Phil saw who it was. And felt like the life had been punched out of him. ‘No, no… ’
He fell to his knees, unmoving, as the 4x4 revved up, sped away.
Behind him, Glass ran out of the building, made straight for his own car. Drove away. Phil didn’t even notice he had gone.
In front of him, Samuel raised the gun, placed it beneath his chin.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry… ’
Fired.
The car park came alive with screams.
But Phil didn’t notice. All he could see was the face of the passenger. The rough sacking hood. The dark, bottomless eyes.
The man who had haunted his dreams.
He was real.
74
There was a knock at the door. Donna and Rose exchanged looks. They knew who it would be.
‘I’ll go,’ said Donna.
She stood up from the sofa where the two women had been sitting, crossed to the front door. Opened it. DCI Brian Glass swept in.
‘Where is she?’ He ignored Donna, looked round the room.
‘I’m here,’ said Rose, standing up. Trying to ignore the pain. ‘And I know what you’ve done.’ Her voice hard, cold. Like Donna imagined an executioner’s would sound. ‘I know everything.’
Glass stayed where he was. Sighed. He looked at his watch. ‘I don’t have time for this.’
‘Yes you do,’ said Rose. ‘Because it’s all here.’ She held up the notebook.
Glass said nothing. Just stared at her. Undisguised hatred in his eyes.
Feeding on his hatred, Rose smiled. ‘Did you think I wouldn’t work it out? Is that it? You didn’t think I’d investigate?’
Glass said nothing. Stood there. Donna watched him. She had seen plenty of men like him before. Violence came off him in waves like aftershave.
Rose continued. ‘Give the dead whore to the basket case, is that what you thought? The fuck-up. The mental patient. Give her a promotion too, but don’t tell the rest of the station. Keep it between the two of us. That way you could always deny it later. Claim it was just… just a sign, a sign of how fucking… delusional I was… ’
Glass sighed. ‘I don’t have time for this.’
‘Oh you do,’ said Rose, and the knife was suddenly in her hand. ‘You fucking do. You’ll stand there and you’ll listen. Because I’ve worked it all out. Who was Faith running from? Who was she meeting out in the woods at Wakes Colne? You. Now how do I know that? Checked the CCTV. No cameras on the street where you picked her up, but I gave them your registration number and they’ve got a perfect chain of you leaving the town centre and driving down Colchester Road out to the Wakes Colne woods. With a female passenger.’ She smiled. ‘Yeah. You’re logged. You’re in the system. You and Faith.’
Glass stared at her, his breathing low, shallow.
