Someone To Save you (16 page)

Louisa took a sip from her drink. ‘If he did it, then Marcus must be innocent.’

Sam followed the logic, he had run it through his head many times, but there were still so many unanswered questions, so many contradictory facts. He couldn’t just reject all that he had believed, even after such a revelation. ‘The evidence was there, Louisa, the evidence that Marcus had been lying about being with Cathy. You were in that court room too.’

‘I know, I know,’ she said, getting more animated, ‘but what if Marcus had been telling the truth all along? What if he had just been scared of admitting that he’d been with her? And now we might have found the one thing that proves he’s innocent. We can’t just dismiss it.’

‘I’m not. Believe me, if Marcus is innocent, I’d be the first to want to prove it, but it’s not that easy.’

Just saying his name was painful. And even contemplating that he was innocent seemed so wrong, like he was betraying his sister. The certainty of Marcus’ guilt had become part of him – it had become the truth, the explanation that he had craved for why his sister had been so cruelly taken from them. But it had never been enough.

Louisa seemed surprised. ‘So you think he might be innocent?’

‘I don’t know what to think, Louisa. But I know we’ve got to keep an open mind. What do you think?’

‘I’d like to believe that Marcus is innocent.’

‘But do you think that Richard Friedman could have done it?’

‘Maybe.’

Sam sat forward. ‘Let’s say Richard Friedman did kill Cathy. He took her necklace. Got away with it, and Marcus went to prison. Then, fifteen years later he reappears, as one of your patients.’

‘It sounds unlikely, I know.’

‘Could he have selected you in some way? Deliberately chosen for you to counsel him?’

‘Not really,’ Louisa replied. ‘People can be asked to be referred by their doctor to a certain hospital, but not to a particular psychologist.’

‘But he could have known that you worked at the hospital, and there aren’t that many of you.’

‘True.’

‘So he could have asked to be referred, thinking that it was a way of getting close to you, and me.’

Louisa nodded.

‘Maybe he wasn’t really unwell. Do you know for sure that his wife really died in a road accident?’

‘Definitely,’ she replied. ‘I’ve seen the official records. It happened the way he said it happened. And he was ill, Sam. It wasn’t an act – you couldn’t have acted the way he was. I would have spotted it, I’m sure.’

‘Maybe something triggered off a need for him to contact you,’ Sam said. ‘And things went from there.’

‘It sounds like you’re starting to believe he did it.’

‘I’m just thinking things through. There is the other possibility.’

‘Go on.’

‘That he got the necklace from someone else.’

‘You mean from Marcus?’

‘Maybe.’

‘But why?’

‘I have no idea,’ Sam admitted.

‘You really think that Marcus has something to do with what Richard has been doing?’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Sam said, running a hand through his hair. ‘This is just so hard to get to grips with.’

‘Why don’t you ask him?’

‘What?’

‘Meet Marcus face-to-face. Look him in the eyes and then decide whether you think he’s telling the truth.’

Sam shook his head. ‘No.’

‘Sam, consider it, I know it’s hard, but after what’s happened today it could really help.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘I understand, Sam. But don’t dismiss it as an idea, please. You might find out more in a ten minute conversation with Marcus than you could ever find out by just sitting here and discussing it with me.’

Sam looked off.

‘Just think about it, Sam.’

Sam put a hand to his face. ‘I just don’t think I could do it. I don’t know how I’d react.’

‘I could come with you, support you.’

Sam stood up and moved over to window, looking out across the park. ‘Thanks, but I don’t think so.’

Louisa moved over to him. ‘So what now?’

‘We wait for the police to contact us,’ Sam said, watching the cars go by.

‘Do you think they’ll reopen the case?’

Sam didn’t turn around. ‘I don’t know. Part of me hopes not. But it’s out of our control, isn’t it?’

‘I guess so. What are you going to tell your parents?’

Now he did turn to face her. ‘No idea. But I want to tell them in person. This can’t be done over the phone. I know how much this could upset them. I’ll go up there tomorrow.’

‘I want to come with you,’ Louisa said.

‘What about work?’

She shrugged. ‘I was meant to be on a training day, but it’s nothing that can’t be missed.’

‘Are you sure?’ Sam didn’t want to pressure Louisa by revealing his happiness at her offer, but it was a great comfort to think that he would have support up there.

‘I’m certain,’ she said. ‘I’d like to speak to my mum and dad too. And I don’t think you should be left to do this on your own.’

‘You’re a good friend,’ Sam said. ‘You okay for travelling there first thing? I want to get an early start.’

‘Absolutely fine by me – just name the time and I’ll be ready.’

‘Good. I need to get to them before the police do. This has got to come from me.’

18

The first call came at ten minutes past midnight, waking Sam from shallow sleep. He had struggled to settle, lying in bed for over an hour, staring at the ceiling and listening to the traffic outside, wishing beyond anything that Anna had been lying next to him. He longed for the comforting warmth of her presence. Instead his only bedfellow was the haunting image of Richard Friedman, slicing across his throat, and those words that changed everything.

I did it. I’m the killer.

And then there was the thought that for all these years he may have been wrong about Marcus.

Could he have been so wrong?

Reaching over to the bedside table, he brought the mobile’s illuminated display towards him.

No caller ID.

‘Hello?’

Silence.

Sam sat up. ‘Who is this?’

Still no answer. But he could hear someone breathing.

‘Is that you, Marcus?’

And then the line went dead.

Sam lay back down, thinking, the phone still in his hand by his side. Who would call at this hour? Just as he was drifting off, the phone rang out again from under the sheets.

He sat up again, this time throwing off the covers and swinging his feet out onto the wooden floor. ‘Who is this?’

Again a moment of silence, followed by the cutting of the connection.

Sam stared at the mobile as the display darkened. This time he didn’t bother to return to bed, instead getting up and pouring himself a drink of water. Settling down in front of the television with only a single lamp lighting the room, he channel-hopped, thinking about who the caller might be.

Before his death, Richard Friedman would have been the prime suspect. But now, who? Marcus? Or maybe it was Anna trying to get through on a bad line. But then, she would have called the main phone.

Sam stuck on a sitcom, but he didn’t feel like laughing.

Phone still in hand, he got up and moved towards the window, pulling back the curtain. The street outside was quiet, with just a few taxis and a lone bus passing by. Across the street, the park was shrouded in darkness. The trees, silhouetted by the full moon, swayed rhythmically in the breeze. It had been raining again.

He sat on the window ledge, waiting for the caller to return. And three minutes later, they did.

‘Hello?’

Sam did not expect a reply. ‘Sam.’

It was a girl’s voice.

He stood up and moved back into the lounge, in front of the television, trying to remain calm. He had made contact at last. ‘Who is this?’

‘Help me, Sam.’

Sam placed a hand behind the back of his head. ‘Help you how? Do I know you?’

‘Please, Sam, help me.’

And then the realisation dawned.

Please help us.

He recognised the voice.

‘Alison?’

No answer.

‘Is that you, Alison?’

Still no answer. But now he was sure it was her. How on earth had she got his number? Sam strode back over to the window and pulled back the curtains again. Could she be calling from outside?

‘Please, Alison, talk to me,’ he said, scanning the road outside. There was no-one in sight, but if she was in the park, amongst the trees, she would be next to invisible. ‘Your family are worried.’

Still she didn’t respond. He didn’t want to push it and risk losing her. Like a fish on a line, he had to reel her in carefully. This could be his one and only chance. ‘You’ve been through a lot, and you shouldn’t have to do this on your own.’

For a horrible moment, Sam feared that she’d gone. But then he heard a low sob.

He tried to make his voice appear as calm as possible. ‘Alison, where are you? I can come and pick you up. Or I can call someone else, anyone you like, to come and get you.’

‘It’s too late,’ she stated.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘It’s too late.’

The ominous nature of that statement chilled Sam. ‘Too late for what?’

A louder sob now.

‘Alison, please talk to me.’

‘I can’t take it anymore,’ she spluttered. ‘It’s all my fault and I can’t take it anymore.’

Sam continued to look out of the window, hoping that he might see a movement in the tree line that would reveal her presence. ‘Let’s talk,’ Sam offered, ‘face to face. Let me know where you are, and I can be there right away. You don’t need to come back with me, just meet me to talk. We can sort things out.’

‘It’s too late,’ she repeated, stifling another sob. ‘I’m already here now. I’m going to do this, I’m going to jump.’

Dear God, not again, please. ‘Where are you, Alison? Please, tell me.’

‘Oakley Bridge.’

‘Oakley Bridge,’ Sam mouthed silently, rushing back towards the bedroom. The bridge was about five minutes at pace from the flat. He knew it well and sometimes ran that way in training. ‘Please, Alison,’ he pleaded, ‘just stay right there until I get to you, okay? Please, just stay right there. Don’t do anything.’

Silence.

Sam grabbed his jogging bottoms from the bedside chair and threw on a t-shirt and tracksuit top, cradling the phone awkwardly between his ear and shoulder as he put on his socks. ‘Please, Alison, promise me you won’t do anything until I get there.’

Another sob.

Now dressed, he grabbed his keys and headed for the door. ‘Alison, stay where you are, I’ll be there in just a few minutes. Promise me you’ll do that.’

But she had already put the phone down.

Sam closed the door behind him and set off up the path, glancing back to see the light on in the apartment upstairs. He needn’t have worried about disturbing the neighbours.

Days were long for City Traders.

He set off at pace, pulling out the mobile from his pocket and punching in the three digits. The rain, a light drizzle, was cool against his face.

‘Police, please. There’s a girl threatening to jump off Oakley Bridge in Islington, North London, just off Central Street…No, I’m just on my way. I think she’s serious, please, get someone there quickly. You might need an ambulance too.’

Sam believed that he would get there first, but then again, there might have been a patrol car nearby.

He picked up the pace, lengthening his stride, occasionally glancing down at his phone, in case she had called back. But the phone, which he held like a relay baton, slicing through the night air on the rain-washed deserted streets of North London, remained silent.

Just a minute or so from the bridge, he cut straight across a junction. Too late, he saw the car speeding around the bend, towards him.

Sam froze in the headlights as the black BMW screeched to a stop, no more than a couple of metres from him. The horn blared angrily as Sam held up an apologetic hand. He couldn’t see past the tinted windscreen and the blinding halogens, but the horn blared again.

‘Sorry,’ he said.

Then the front passenger door opened and a towering Jamaican man started towards him, gesticulating. Sam took a step back in the otherwise deserted road.

‘What d’ya think you’re doin’? Tired of livin’ eh?’

‘I’m sorry,’ Sam repeated. ‘But I’ve got to go.’

Sam sprinted off past the man.

‘Yeah, you just run man, keep runnin’.’

Shaking off the near miss, Sam raced along the road that ran parallel to the stone bridge, which was just off the main road. It was not open to traffic, being instead used for walkers and cyclists to get to and from the adjacent park.