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Authors: Angela Jardine

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BOOK: The Catalyst
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‘Jimmy ... I’ve got to go to the loo ... Jimmy ... please,’ she said breathlessly.

‘You sure? You wouldn’t lie to ol' Jimmy now would you?’

‘No, no … honest ... I’ll come straight back,’ she lied, knowing he knew she was lying. She knew he was not seriously insisting they make love, it was just horseplay. They both knew they were too spent from the night before but even so he still made a show of reluctant concession as he released her and let her get out of bed.

Quickly she slipped one of Jimmy’s tee-shirts over her head, raising her arms provocatively as she did so, aware that he was watching her. Then with a big smile, she blew him a kiss and sashayed from the room with an exaggerated wiggle.

Jimmy grinned at her antics. God, but the woman was a tease, he thought as he lay there, one hand behind his head, the other moving down his body. His head was full of vivid scenes of their lovemaking and he closed his eyes, pushing his head back into the pillow and feeling himself starting to gasp. He didn’t hear the car pulling up outside the back door.

‘And just who the fucking hell are you?’ a female voice screamed.

 

Chapter 18

 

Blood! There was blood everywhere. How could she be covered in so much blood? It was on her clothes and on her hands, it was behind her eyelids when she closed them, its metallic smell lingered remorselessly in her nostrils. It was still there even as she tried to escape from it, wanting desperately not to see it, wanting to leave it behind.

The euphoria, the feeling of immense power she had felt only moments ago had all but evaporated and now she was cold and beginning to feel very frightened. She had killed people. She had killed Jimmy ... and someone else. She couldn’t quite remember who now, someone she hadn’t seen before, someone she didn't know.

Fleetingly, she had felt so strong, like some sort of Iron Age warrior queen at bay, dagger drawn, hair tangling wildly about her head as she screamed obscenities into the savage winds that swept up the cliff face from the sea far below. Momentarily she had been invincible, then looking down she had seen instead the reality, the blood, the long, kitchen knife in her hand and she had thrown it away and vomited violently.

Bodies, falling towards each other as if to protect, becoming intertwined, tangled and tumbling, superimposed themselves on her vision and hid the landscape around her. She squeezed her eyelids shut as tight as she could, desperate now to blot out the sight. Her jumper was soaking up the rain like a sponge, holding its impartial iciness against her skin.

Someone was sobbing but she did not connect the sound with herself as she looked around, dazed and bewildered by her surroundings until from the back of her mind, with some ancient reptilian cunning, came an instruction telling her to hide.

Hesitantly at first she started to move and then it came to her, the hiding place. Now she knew where she must go and she started to run as fast as she could over the tussocks of coarse grass on the cliff top, scrambling frantically to get back to her car. She drove, silent and grim, the latent, primal fear of the hunted sharpening her ability to stay focussed despite the violence of the wind and driving rain, concentrating now only on finding refuge, on staying free.

Even so, the pictures constantly intervened. However hard she tried she could not stop them flashing, vivid and bloody, in front of her eyes, making her want to scream. Only the innate instinct for self-preservation kept her moving forward but somewhere in the more civilised part of her brain she knew she would be expected to pay for the actions of this day.

People would come looking for her, people who didn't understand what she had endured, and they would want to take responsibility for her actions. Even as she sped towards refuge the idea of atonement was already in her mind. She began to see it was right she should pay for killing Jimmy, one way or another reparation must be made, it was only just. Well, perhaps it was, she thought, but not right now.

 

It was late afternoon when Jasper Carne raised his eyes from the screen of his laptop where he had been wasting time playing games and debating with himself whether he should venture out to one of the nearby pubs this evening. He knew he needed to start networking to promote his new business venture and the pub was always a good place to start making useful local contacts.

He was bored now and restless and, if he was honest, he had been ever since Jenny left. What was worse, he was even beginning to wonder if all his future plans were now rather pointless, maybe even naive? This sudden inability to get on with the planning and development of his new business was annoying him and he felt frustrated by his inexplicable lack of drive.

Why he should be like this just because Jenny was no longer around puzzled him. It wasn't even as if he had really incorporated her into his future plans ... or had he? Looking back he could see that perhaps he had sometimes assumed she would be there somewhere in his life. He had to admit to himself he had keenly felt her somewhat rapid defection this morning and had been expecting her to phone him as she had promised.

As she hadn't contacted him so far he had assumed that she and Jimmy had had some sort of rapturous reunion. It was an unlikely scenario but even the remote possibility of it still made him cringe.

Sighing, he threw himself down into an armchair and picking up the remote he turned on the television, expertly flicking through the channels to find the evening news. Glancing at the clock he saw he was just in time for the weekday local news programme that usually followed the national news.

‘Yes, Justin,’ a serious-faced presenter was saying as he stood hunched against the driving rain, ‘the news of this stabbing is really just breaking. The police have issued a statement saying that a man and a woman were found wounded earlier today at this farm behind me, just outside Porthcarn. They were taken to the County Hospital and as yet police have not released their names. At the moment we do not know how serious their injuries are. The police have cordoned off the area ready to resume their search for clues at first light tomorrow morning and they are appealing to anyone who may have been walking the cliff path nearby to contact them if they think they saw anything that may help with their enquiries.’

The reporter signed off and turned to glance back at the farmhouse, busy with the bustle of policemen, in the fading light behind him. Jasper stared at the images of the farm on the screen as a chill started to rise in him and intuitively he knew this had something to do with Jenny.

He did not really recognise the farm from this angle but something told him it surely must be Jimmy's. As he stared at the scene he became convinced this was the farm where he had dropped Jenny the day she had told Jimmy she was going away for some ‘thinking time’.

He felt something inside him lurch as he realised Jenny might be the woman involved. Had Jimmy attacked her? Was that why she hadn't phoned? My God, she could be seriously hurt! He tried not to admit to himself that she might have attacked Jimmy but the thought still hovered in the back of his mind anyway. Leaping up, he grabbed his car keys and raced outside, leaving the farm door ajar and the television talking to itself.

 

The young policeman standing in front of the door to the High Dependency Unit at the local hospital angled his ear down towards the man who poured out a barely coherent story about a woman friend who had been staying with him but who had left to return home. Home, the man seemed to think, to the farm where the recent stabbing had taken place. He seemed concerned the wounded woman might be his friend.

‘I need to see her, is that possible?’ he said breathlessly. The policeman hesitated, making an instant assessment of the man in front of him. His job was to protect the victims in case of further attack and, even if he felt this was somewhat unlikely in this rural backwater, he was still determined nobody was going to get at them on his watch.

One look at the distress on the ashen face of the man in front of him told him all he needed to know, this one was no crazed, knife-wielding maniac.

‘She is ... alive ... isn't she?’ Jasper found his throat seemed to have dried up with fear.

‘Yes, sir, she’s alive and her condition has stabilised but she's not conscious yet. Now, who did you say she is? And what is your relationship with her?’

‘Please, I really need to see her ... can you just let me...’ he said trying to edge round the policeman who restrained him, gently but implacably, by the arm. ‘Okay, her name is Jenny Lawrence and I am a close friend of hers. She has been staying with me ... please, you must let me see her!’ Jasper scrubbed at his short-cropped hair with irritable fingers.

‘I think you may be mistaken, sir. I.D taken from a handbag found at the scene would suggest she is someone else entirely.’

The policeman frowned at him, clearly puzzled. Jasper stared back before a little flare of hope flickered into life in his mind. He swallowed, unable to think who else could be lying there under intensive care, suddenly beginning to doubt all those intuitive feelings of his. Was this a different farm? Could he have got it all wrong? No, he was sure he had identified the farm correctly, it was definitely Jimmy Fisher's. Was the injured woman the one who had caused all the upset between Jenny and Jimmy … the imaginative Rosie?

‘Well, maybe I can help with the identification then … or I can at least confirm it isn’t Jenny Lawrence.’

‘Yes sir, that would be most helpful.’ The policeman nodded his head, swiftly mulling over the ramifications of allowing this stranger to look at the victim before turning towards the door of the intensive care unit.

The nursing sister who had been surreptitiously watching their conversation, sprinted out from behind her desk ready to intervene but was persuaded that a brief glimpse of the patient was vital to police enquiries for identification purposes.

Jasper was utterly dumbfounded as he stared down at the unconscious woman in the bed. Bandages on her hand and arm hid the only sign of injury on her and she looked serene, much as he imagined Sleeping Beauty would look, serene but deathly pale … and most definitely not Jenny Lawrence.

His first reaction was one of relief but it was soon replaced with a more chilling realisation. Was this the Rosie of the explicit email? If so, she was older than he had imagined her … and where was Jenny? More worryingly, could Jenny be the attacker? He knew how volatile her temper was and he felt his breathing struggle again as he realised this was more than a distinct possibility. Aware of the policeman watching him closely he tried to give nothing away.

‘No, this isn't Jenny Lawrence … I think I must have misunderstood what she said. She must have gone to stay with someone else. Yes, that was it ... I remember now ... she said she would be staying in Dehwelyans last night ... with a friend.’

Shock had rendered him incapable of even lying competently and the policeman looked totally unconvinced. Taking Jasper's arm he gently led him to another bed in the same room.

‘Well, maybe you could help us identify this man, sir? Do you recognise him? He was also found at the farm.’

Finally Jasper had come face to face, what he could see of it, with the infamous Jimmy Fisher, smalltime local artist and big-time serial seducer. He looked impassively at the unconscious man, at the swathe of bandages that covered his head and most of his face and hid the icy fear squeezing his insides as something told him this could be Jenny's work. The enormity of what she had done left him speechless and afraid for her and perhaps, even a little afraid of her.

‘No, officer, I don't know him,’ he said, shaking his head. This time he was telling the truth. He may kno
w
o
f
Jimmy Fisher but it was true he did not actually know him. It was semantics but it was enough to allow him to be convincing and the officer seemed to believe him as he ushered Jasper out of the room.

‘Now, about your friend ... Jenny Lawrence … was it? You say she was going to stay with friends in town? So why would you think she was going to the farm? You seemed certain she should have been at the farm where the attack took place?’

Jasper's heart plummeted. He had been naive to think he might be able to get away before the officer could question him further about Jenny. Even worse, he now realised wretchedly, he had inadvertently alerted the police to her existence. He answered the policeman's questions as briefly as he could, trying not to appear obviously unhelpful.

After all, when Jimmy came round … if he came round … he would tell them what had really happened. Right now Jasper just wanted to get out and look for Jenny as soon as he could, which, he realised, would not be possible now until daybreak. He knew he would be impatient to start searching and wondered if he could he try to look for her in the dark.

Giving his address to the policeman in case he was needed again he left, trying not to appear in a hurry. One thing was for sure, he needed to get out there before the police returned to their hunt in the morning.

Hesitating to allow the automatic doors of the hospital to open for him as he left, he was so engrossed in thoughts of finding Jenny he did not even notice the man who ran in from the car park until he nearly collided with him. Hurriedly apologising to one another they went on their way, neither of them knowing they were both involved in the present drama.

 

Edward Hervey had heard the news on his car radio as he had been travelling back from attending a small book fair and had driven straight to the hospital. He too had had the same sinking feeling as Jasper, the same spasm of fear even though he had no reason to link the news item with Jimmy's farm but somehow, given the report stating its location as ‘just outside Porthcarn’, he decided he needed to reassure himself it was not Jimmy’s farm and Sunny was not the woman involved.

The policeman raised his eyebrows as Edward stood before him making the same request as Jasper.

‘I think I might know ... that is ... I need to make sure that ... er...’ Edward blushed and stammered, wondering what he was doing here. For Heaven's sake, why should the injured woman be Sunny? Why should the farm be Jimmy’s? He would look such a fool if it was not her. Yes, but a very relieved fool, he reminded himself.

The policeman had to grab hold of Edward as he looked down at the woman in the bed. He had not really believed that anyone could collapse with shock.

‘Oh no ... no … please no,’ Edward begged under his breath as he put out his hand to tenderly brush a tendril of hair away from Sunny’s cheek. The nurse, hovering close by on the pretext of monitoring Sunny’s drip, caught his hand gently before he touched her and he apologised for his unhygienic gesture. ‘Why? Why would anyone want to do this to her?’

BOOK: The Catalyst
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