Dead Girl Walking (10 page)

I put the pen down, watching as it rolls across the table and stops when it hits my mug. Not exactly what Helen was looking for, I suppose, but a journal entry nonetheless, so I feel like it’s progress.

On the table, just beside the notebook, lies DI Massey’s card. I’d left it on the table, typically, when I needed it. I had thought of throwing it away when he gave it to me but now I’m glad I didn’t and I pick it up. Do I feel scared enough to phone him? Will he think I’m wasting his time? I’m sure the weirdo who hassled me today won’t be his serial killer but someone needs to check him out before he does something horrible to someone. Or maybe I’m overreacting. What if he’s just some nutter out
on day release and I’ve got all upset over a socially inept mental patient trying to give me a compliment? The card goes back on the table and I get up to grab a bag of peanuts and an apple from the cupboard. Turning over the pack, I see that the nuts are out of date. The apple is sweet and crisp, though. It’s the first fruit I’ve bought since I don’t know when and I don’t even know why I had the urge to go and get it, but suddenly, it’s like my body has been crying out for something this fresh and I haven’t noticed. Even before I’ve finished I crave another.

Starting on the second apple, I pull the scrap of paper with Dante’s number from my pocket and muse over it. His name is written in a sloping script with a high crossed T. I’m no graphologist but everything about it screams high maintenance. There’s no mistaking the spark, but do I really want this on top of everything else? But there’s a part of me that won’t be quieted, that feels like this meeting was written somewhere, that our ending up together is inevitable. My mobile sits quietly on the table. I could reach for it, I could call him now, he could be waiting…

My mobile buzzes and I almost jump out of my skin. I take the call.

‘Hi Cassie, it’s Karl.’

‘Karl?’ For a moment I’m confused, then I remember that I agreed to give him my mobile number. Now, I have the horrible feeling it was a mistake.

‘I know you’ve already said you can’t help but I need to make the request again.’ I don’t reply straight away as I process this
. He needs to make the request again
. He’s asking again, even though we had already agreed that I couldn’t help him. ‘I don’t understand…’

A pause… ‘I’m certain our killer is the same one as before and I need all the help I can get. I’m also certain it’s only a matter of time before he strikes again.’

Karl hands me a cup. More tea. I feel like I’m destined to drown in tea. I take it anyway to help stop the shaking. Jeez, I haven’t even seen her yet and I’m a mess. Could this ability have been given to a less worthy recipient than me? Probably not, but that doesn’t change the fact that I must do something that matters if there’s going to be any point to my having it at all. Damn Karl and his persuasion. He must have a hotline to my soul or something, the way he worked out that the threat of another murder would get me here.

‘If you’re having second thoughts, you don’t have to go through with it,’ he says, as if reading my mind. ‘But you must also realise that whatever information I can get will help to catch him before he does it again. You have the power to help save lives.’

I think over the irony of this for a moment. The half-dead girl saving lives. It’s a pity she couldn’t save her own family. I want to ask about how he knows it’s the same person, but I can’t. I simply nod; my mouth too dry to speak.

‘Drink your tea,’ he says, patting a gentle hand on my arm. I stare at it – a big hand, like a bear paw. ‘When you’re ready we’ll take you in. She’ll have a sheet over her so you won’t be able to see anything. You can do this by the smallest touch?’

I nod mutely again.

‘So you can just slip your hand under the sheet and touch her arm…’

A trembling hand propels the cup to my lips and I take a sip. There’s no taste at all.

‘Can I have some sugar?’ I whisper.

‘Sugar… no problem.’ He opens a desk drawer and rifles around, producing two small white packs. ‘Is that enough?’ he asks, holding them up. ‘Only we haven’t been down to the canteen lately to snaffle any.’

I know he’s trying to put me at ease but his attempt at humour does nothing to stem the terror.

He looks up as the door to the office opens and what I presume to be a colleague enters. He’s much younger than Karl, a brisk efficiency about his jerky, long-limbed frame that makes me think he’s new to the job and hungry for promotion.

‘Ready down there, Mark?’ Karl asks him.

The new man nods and quickly throws a glance in my direction before turning his attention back to Karl. That brief second says everything. This man thinks Karl is
crazy to ask me to do this, that he must be losing his grip on the case to even think of involving me. The trouble is, I wonder if he might be right. My suspicions are confirmed when Mark takes Karl to one side.

‘I need a quick word, boss.’

Karl nods and follows him to the other side of the office, where they stand with their faces to the window, heads close together and deep in conversation. I can’t hear everything they’re saying, and quite frankly I don’t want to, but I catch my name a few times and Mark’s gesticulation gets more energetic, Karl’s placating hand more frequent to match it. Mark throws a couple of doubtful looks over his shoulder in my direction. I can just make out something about going against protocol, and Karl saying they could be looking at a policeman’s worst nightmare, though Mark shakes his head vehemently to this statement. They’re clearly arguing over whether it’s a good idea to involve me and I can see that Mark doesn’t think so at all.

Eventually, they appear to call a truce. Karl turns to me, rubbing a hand over tired features before forcing a tight smile.

‘Are you ready?’

‘No,’ I say truthfully.

‘Are you still willing to go through with it?’ Mark asks. I can see that he’s hoping for a negative. I nod.

‘I just want to get it over with.’

‘Would it be easier if you knew what to expect?’ Karl asks.

‘What do you mean?’

He clears his throat and looks at his colleague before answering. ‘Would it help to know how she died before you go down?’

My eyes widen. ‘No. Once I’m there, I’m there. Tell me that now and I might back out.’

‘Ok then.’ He nods uncertainly. ‘Ready then?’

‘As I’ll ever be,’ I say.

It’s a short walk to the building that houses the mortuary, tucked away in a discreet section of the local hospital. The stench of chemicals hits the back of my throat as soon as I enter, sending me into spasms of coughing. Everything is stainless steel and pristine white and as soon as I’ve managed to stop choking the familiarity hits me,
spirals me back into the nightmare of waking in the same room, stark naked and surrounded by drawers full of corpses. I stagger back into the door frame and close my eyes.

‘Cassie?’ Karl’s gravelled tones break in. His voice is soft, solicitous. I can’t speak but I nod and he gently takes my elbow to guide me to the right table where a sheet drapes ominous angular shapes. As I look around I see that it’s the only body in here. I wonder vaguely if it’s a slack week or if they’ve moved the others for my benefit. The sound of my breathing is harsh and fast in my ears; blood pumping, heart beating where it shouldn’t be.

‘I’m right here,’ Karl says quietly as he leads me closer. ‘Under the sheet, quick as you like and I’ll be here with you all the time.’

I stand for a moment, arms limp at my sides, and stare at the sheet.

‘Cassie,’ Karl says. ‘Remember… you don’t have to do this.’

I look at his face and I see the barely concealed desperation. He has a daughter, Chrissy. Is he thinking of her now? Is he scared that he can’t keep her safe? He’s risking his job, his reputation, bringing me here. He’ll do whatever he has to. Dad would have done the same for me, right?

I reach out. My hand is shaking. A little more. Karl lifts the sheet for me. Hand touches freezing flesh. I connect.

Everywhere hurts. Pain in places where he’s been, places where he shouldn’t be. The ground hard in my back, his weight on my chest; every stone, every piece of grit ripping skin through torn clothes. The moon, a forlorn sliver in the frosted night sky. Scratching, clawing, but he won’t let go. My mouth gaping, lungs screaming but he won’t let go, he won’t let me breathe. Make it stop make it stop if I’m going to die make it now so the pain will stop…

Karl’s face is above me as I open my eyes, concern etched into every heavy line. My tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth and I’m shivering. My hand finds the wool of a blanket thrown over me. I lift my head slightly from something soft scrunched under it to see the shape of the girl under the sheet still there and someone mopping up close by – it takes a few seconds to register that my jeans are wet and I realise, with a vague sense of shame, that what they’re cleaning came from me. But I’m too weak to apologise and I let my head fall back again.

‘You worried us for a minute there,’ Karl says.

‘She was strangled,’ I whisper.

‘Tell me when you’re feeling up to it,’ he says. ‘Water?’

I nod my head in a tiny movement and pain shoots right across my skull from one side to the other.

‘Mark, if you don’t mind…’

From the periphery of my vision I see a plastic cup passed over. Karl holds it to my lips and dribbles some into my mouth.

‘We’ve called an ambulance. It’ll be with us shortly. Try not to exert yourself.’

I shake my head slightly. ‘No – ’

‘You stopped breathing, Cassie.’

‘No,’ I croak, ‘it was her, she was strangled.’

‘But you stopped breathing.’

‘Because she did.’ I grasp for the cup and he holds it to my lips again. ‘What happened to her?’

‘It can wait, Cassie. Hospital first, get you checked over. You’re in no state for this now.’

I grab his arm and pull myself up on an elbow. ‘What happened to her?’

Gently, he loosens my grip and pushes me back onto the makeshift pillow. ‘Not now.’

I stare at the ceiling. I can’t stop thinking about the terror and the pain; the memory of it brands my consciousness. In the end she wanted to die. What happened before those final seconds that made her give up? Nobody deserves an end like that.

There’s a soft knock on the door and new voices.

‘What’s her name?’ A bald paramedic comes into the range of my vision.

‘Cassie,’ Karl replies.

The paramedic glances round in mild surprise at where we are. I don’t suppose he’s ever had a shout out to a mortuary before, but if he is curious, he doesn’t show it.

‘Cassie,’ he says. ‘Can you hear me?’

I nod. ‘I fainted, that’s all.’

‘She stopped breathing for a short time,’ Karl adds.

‘How long?’ the paramedic questions as he pulls a plastic case open and snaps on some latex gloves.

A second paramedic, a petite woman with jet black hair pulled into a bun, joins him.

‘I don’t want to go to hospital,’ I say. ‘I just want to go home.’

‘You need to get checked over,’ Karl insists.

‘I want to go home,’ I repeat, finding my voice now.

The paramedics exchange worried glances.

‘Nobody is going to force you to do anything,’ the woman says. ‘But we strongly recommend that you come with us in the ambulance to be looked over.’

I turn my face to Karl, propping myself up again. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me, I want to go home.’

‘Calm down, Cassie, we just want to make sure you’re alright.’

‘I am calm! I want to go home. Take me home now!’ I’m suddenly aware of silence in the room as everyone turns to look at me. I try to clip my tone. ‘Please… I’m fine. I want to go home, that’s all… I have a cat, she needs feeding. I don’t want to leave her alone any longer…’

The paramedics look to Karl. He shrugs.

‘I’m sorry we’ve wasted your time,’ he says to them.

‘You could see nothing?’ Karl asks, the disappointment barely concealed behind his professional mask.

‘I could only see what she saw, feel what she felt, in the last few moments. By then she was already too far gone, I suppose.’ The mortuary office is still cold, despite the heater blowing in the corner. I pull the blanket tighter around me and glance across at the other detective. I can see the scepticism seeping from every pore.

‘She was strangled,’ I say to him. ‘How could I know that?’

He glances quickly at Karl and then back at me. ‘I didn’t say a word.’

‘You didn’t have to,’ I say. ‘You think I’m either a freak or a liar… maybe both.’

‘Do you want to go home now?’ Karl asks me, rubbing a hand over stubble that somehow seems to have erupted during the last twenty minutes. I wonder if he’s secretly thinking the same as Mark. He must have his doubts and so much is riding on this that those doubts must seem massive. Hell, I’d have doubts too.

‘If you don’t need me any longer,’ I reply. ‘I think home is the best place for me.’

Karl sighs. ‘Mark, do you think you could get uniform to drive her home?’

‘I’ll walk, thanks.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘I’m fine. The air will do me good.’

‘You really think I’m going to let you go alone?’

‘Then give me one of those personal alarms, and if anything happens I’ll be able to get help.’

‘Cassie, I wish you’d let us take you back in a police car. It’s not only about safety, but after what you’ve just been through I’d feel happier if we drove you back. What if you collapse again?’

‘I told you why that happened. I’m fine.’

‘Is there someone who can come and collect you if you’re unhappy about going home in a police car?’

‘No, there isn’t.’

Karl stares at me. ‘Sorry, but I’m not going to allow that. I’m going to get someone to run you back whether you like it or not and I don’t want to hear another word of argument.

Mark interrupts him. ‘I’ve got one or two things I need to check on.’

‘Cassie,’ Karl says, ‘can you give us a minute and I’ll be out to you.’

I discard the blanket and step outside the office to wait for him. I can hear raised voices in the room I’ve just vacated. They sound like they’re struggling to keep it professional and I wouldn’t be surprised to see one of them fly through a shattered side window like a cowboy in one of those old films. As I wonder whether I should leave and make my own way home, Karl opens the door and comes out to me.