The Silent Twin (25 page)

‘
T
ake a deep breath in
. . .’ Fiona said, over the panpipe music playing in the background. ‘And out . . .’

Joanna felt her eyes roll back in her head as she relaxed her body. Fiona’s meditation sessions had been a lifesaver, bringing her back from the brink of oblivion. Cutting the tops of her thighs had not been enough to hold back the tide, and Fiona had known her long enough to pick up on her silent anxiety, planning regular sessions to ease the pain. Fiona had counted backwards, bringing her to a happy place, albeit short-lived as memories of the past filtered through. But in a strange sort of way, it helped. Instead of being bombarded with images she did not understand, it was as if Fiona was taking her by the hand, guiding her through the sequence of events behind closed doors.

Fiona meditated with her eyes open, and her gentle voice spoke in a soft lull.

‘Relax your shoulders. You’re safe here.’

She
was
safe. She trusted Fiona. Her shoulders rose and Fiona spoke again.

‘Relax. You’re in the garden, Joanna. It’s a beautiful summer’s day. You can smell the honeysuckle growing on the fence.’

‘Yes,’ Joanna said.

‘Tell me, what are you doing?’

‘I’m going to Daddy’s workshop,’ Joanna said, her tone childish and excitable.

‘What age are you?’

Joanna giggled. ‘I’m almost ten years old. It’s my birthday today.’

‘That’s right,’ Fiona said. They had reached this part many times before, but never any further. ‘Why don’t you open the door, see what’s inside?’

Joanna frowned, clasping her fingers on her lap. ‘I can’t. It’s locked.’

‘It’s open today. Push down the handle and walk inside.’

Joanna paused, a small gasp leaving her lips. ‘It smells funny, and it’s dark. I don’t like it here, I want to go back.’

Fiona spoke in calm, soothing tones. ‘Keep going. You’re being really brave. I’m with you, you’re safe.’

Joanna frowned, her words stuttering, unsure. ‘I . . . I can hear noises.’

‘That’s okay, Walk towards the noises,’ Fiona said, verbally scooting her along.

‘There’s a red light in one room, with photos hanging up. I don’t like them. They’re rude.’

‘What else do you see?’

‘There’s another room. The door is closed but there’s noises. I . . . I think someone’s crying.’

‘Just keep walking towards the noise. I’m holding your hand. It’s all right, nothing can hurt you now.’

Joanna’s frown drew down, her eyes shut tight as her voice weakened. ‘I don’t want to go through this door. I feel sick, please don’t make me.’

‘Joanna, it’s you crying behind the door. It’s always been you. Only by opening it can you let the bad things out, and be free. You want that, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ Joanna said, her body language a complete contrast to her words. Her fingers were wedged tightly together, her elbows glued to her sides.

Fiona sighed. ‘We’ve been here before, haven’t we? Today I want you to open that door. Do it now before the moment passes. Be a brave girl and push it open.’

‘Oh . . . okay,’ Joanna said, tears trickling down her cheeks.

Fiona dared not speak, and waited as Joanna relived the memory.

‘Oh . . . oh no. No no no no . . .’ Joanna said, her head in her hands, tears cascading down her cheeks as her body shook.

‘Tell me, what do you see?’

‘I can’t.
Ulp
. . . I’m going to throw up,’ Joanna said, gagging as her voice slowly returned to normal.

Fiona’s voice grew firm. ‘You’ve come this far. Now tell me, or I’ll make you go through the door again and again until you do.’

‘No . . . I . . .
ulp
.’ Joanna clasped her hand to her mouth, rising from the floor.

‘Shh, it’s okay. I’m taking you away, Joanna. We’re outside now. Take a breath.’

The gagging subsided as Joanna took some deep breaths. The frown lines eased from her face as she relaxed back into her position, cross-legged on the floor.

‘I don’t feel very well,’ she whispered. ‘Can’t we come back tomorrow?’

But Fiona pushed on, giving her little time to recover. ‘You’re on the farm. It’s the day Abigail went missing. Can you tell me where you are?’

‘I’m outside,’ she said, wrapping her hands around herself, as if cold.

‘Good. Do you see Abigail?’

‘Yes. It’s her birthday soon.’

‘How do you feel about that?’

Joanna frowned. ‘I feel bad. I want to make it all go away.’

‘How do you do make it go away? Take yourself there. You’re with me in the house. Then you have to go outside because your internet signal is playing up, and you need to check your emails on your phone. You walk outside . . .’

‘I see Abigail. She’s playing hide and seek.’

‘Good. What happens next?’

‘I . . . I can’t remember. Everything’s fuzzy.’

‘Unlock the memory. You’re keeping it hidden because it’s causing you too much pain. What happens next?’

‘I . . . I . . .’ Joanna’s hands clenched as she struggled to express the words.

‘Go on,’ Fiona said firmly. ‘Tell me . . . you saw Abigail. What did you do?’

But Joanna clamped a hand to her mouth and scrambled to her feet. She leapt from the room, retching, her legs fizzing with pins and needles as the blood flow returned. Skidding into the bathroom, she made it to the toilet as her stomach heaved, spilling her last meal into the porcelain bowl.

Images of her tenth birthday flashed before her as she swallowed back the burning sensation in her throat. Slowly, she came to ground, feeling as if she had been walking through a nightmare. The images revisited her mind, hazy and disjointed. Was it really true? Was that why she had been hurting herself all this time? And Abigail? Was it possible that she had hurt her little girl?

Joanna cleaned herself up as quickly as she could. Her legs felt like rubber as she walked across the landing, but she would not give in. She grasped the door knob to return to Fiona. She was just about to push the door aside when she heard Fiona’s voice.

‘DC Knight? It’s Fiona. I need to talk to you. No . . . not on the phone. Can I meet you somewhere? . . . Not here. Yes . . .’ She sighed, and it sounded as if the weight of her soul was in that exhalation. ‘We can’t carry on like this.’ Fiona’s words crumbled into a sob. ‘I think I know who killed Abigail.’

A
rmed with her exit strategy
, Jennifer sat in the car park of the supermarket. A call from Fiona had been the last thing she expected, much less an arranged meeting here. Just as she had suspected, she had been pulled away from the investigation and was to report to Haven police station later that day. She would still see the family, but only to provide brief updates. She no longer had the luxury of chatting to them, or picking up snatched conversations. But Fiona’s troubled expression told her it was not over yet.

‘I’ve left Joanna and Olivia back at the house so I won’t delay,’ Fiona said, sweeping the hair from her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she geared herself up for what she was about to say.

‘First, I want you to know that I have come to care for the Duncans. Nick, Joanna, the girls, I love them all. But this family is being ripped apart in the worst possible way and I can’t stand by any longer and allow it to happen.’

Jennifer nodded, her heart gearing up a notch. ‘I understand. From the first day I came to Blackwater, I could see how much they meant to you. But you’re right, they can’t keep going on like this. If you’ve got information, you must disclose it.’

Fiona bowed her head in a reluctant nod. ‘I’ve had my suspicions, but I didn’t want to believe it. I . . . I lied in my statement. On the day Abigail disappeared, Joanna left me. It wasn’t for long, about twenty minutes. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want her to get into trouble.’ She looked shiftily at Jennifer, dropping her gaze as an angry glare was returned. ‘I’m
sorry,
but she’s fragile and I just didn’t believe she could have done something like that.’

‘And now?’ Jennifer said, reining in her annoyance, her mind racing with the possibilities.

‘Now I’m convinced she has. But I don’t think it was intentional,’ Fiona quickly added. ‘Joanna’s mentally ill. She has been for some time. I’ve been trying to encourage her to explore her memories, but I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.’ Fiona shifted her weight in the seat of the car. ‘Something happened just before her tenth birthday. Something bad. I think her father was sexually abusing her. It escalated on her birthday and it’s affected her ever since.’

Jennifer nodded. Nothing shocked her any more, and given Joanna’s attitude towards her father, she already had her suspicions.

When Jennifer didn’t respond, Fiona continued. ‘It’s a horrible thought, I know. I thought if we explored her past, it would help us find out what happened. But now . . .’

‘Go on,’ Jennifer said, an air of unease creeping in.

‘Now I’m worried she’ll do something stupid. Whatever upset Joanna in the past . . . well, it happened on her tenth birthday.’

‘And it’s the twins’ tenth birthday tomorrow,’ Jennifer finished her train of thought.

‘Yes,’ Fiona said. ‘She’s always said she sees herself in Abigail. What if she’s hidden Abigail away somewhere, to rid herself of the memory? That Jack-in-the-box she talks about, all the stuff from the eighties, they’re all part of that bad memory.’

‘Can you back up any of this?’

Fiona eased the iPhone from her pocket and laid it on the dashboard of the car. They exchanged a glance before she pressed the play button on the voice recorder app. Jennifer listened, straining to hear past the music in the background. There was no mistaking the connotations as she listened to Joanna’s voice.

‘Why didn’t you tell me this when Radcliffe was arrested?’

‘At first I thought I’d be able to regress her, maybe find out where Abigail was and have her returned without Joanna getting arrested. I didn’t think she killed her daughter. But now . . . she’s getting worse, and I’m worried about Olivia.’

‘So your sessions were a way of unlocking the past? You do know you were playing with fire, don’t you?’ Jennifer said, feeling partially responsible. But encouraging Fiona to get Joanna to open up wasn’t the same as advocating full-on regression. She should have known this would happen. A hypnotherapy certificate was one of the things Jennifer had discovered when she completed Fiona’s background checks. ‘The reason that people block bad memories is because it causes them trauma to recount them. Leading her through her past, especially in such an insistent way, could have caused her serious psychological damage.’

Fiona’s voice raised an octave. ‘She wouldn’t open up to
you
. What choice did I have?’

‘Where’s Joanna now?’ Jennifer asked, checking her watch.

‘At home with Olivia and Nick.’

‘Did you explain to Nick what was going on?’

‘No . . . oh . . . Do you think I should have?’

‘You’ve put her through all that and just left her with Olivia? What if Nick goes out and leaves them alone?’ Jennifer grabbed her phone from her pocket and called Nick’s number. ‘Dammit, no answer.’ Turning her key in the ignition, she revved up the car. ‘We’d better get back there.’

T
he drive
to Blackwater farm passed in a dusty race down the gravel path, as stones clanked against the side of the car. Jennifer didn’t care about her paintwork. She was too busy going over things in her head while Fiona tried again and again to contact Nick.

Jennifer wondered if she should have called a unit to race up there on blues and twos. But where was her justification? Where was the crime? Joanna had lived with the memories of her past for years; it didn’t mean to say she would harm anyone now. Or did it? The speed Jennifer was going, they wouldn’t have got there any quicker anyway. Jennifer gripped the steering wheel as she patched a call through to her DI, bringing him up to date. The recording did not incriminate Joanna, but it raised concerns, and he would have to be a fool not to take them seriously.

As her car skidded into the yard, Jennifer was relieved to see Olivia’s face from the top window, just as she had the first day she arrived. But her expression relayed that something was wrong. The absence of Nick’s car made Jennifer’s stomach clench as she rushed to the front door of the house.

‘Joanna,’ she shouted in unison with Fiona, who fumbled with her keys, dropping them twice before finally opening the door.

While Fiona ran into the kitchen, instinct drove Jennifer upstairs. She took them two at a time, grasping the old banister for support as she sped upwards, calling for Joanna and Olivia.

The child appeared on the landing, looking scared and confused. Pointing to the bathroom door, her meaning became clear.

‘Is Mummy in there?’ Jennifer asked.

The little girl bowed her head in a nod.

‘Why don’t you go downstairs to Fiona? I’ll speak to your mummy,’ Jennifer said, adrenaline pumping through her veins. Something was wrong. Very wrong. As Olivia descended the stairs, Jennifer turned her attention to the bathroom door. ‘Joanna? Open up, will you?’

No response. She tried the old brass door knob, but it wouldn’t open. She gauged it as she gave it a rattle. It wasn’t the strongest of locks.

‘Joanna, this is the last time I’ll ask. Open the door now, or I’ll kick it down.’

Silence. She took a couple of steps back before launching her foot at the door and kicking as hard as she could. It shook on its hinges but remained closed. Swearing under her breath, Jennifer quickly assessed the situation. She could wait for assistance to force entry or she could try and gain access now. A thought struck her and she ran to the stairs.

‘Fiona, bring me up a fire extinguisher, quickly.’

Just where was Nick when she needed him? She grabbed the extinguisher and ran towards the door, gaining as much momentum as she could. Battering it against the lock, it smashed open, the wood splintering under the force.

‘Shit!’ Jennifer exclaimed, as she saw Joanna lying naked in a blood-tinged bath. The ends of her hair floated in the water, and a shade of blue had spread across her lips. But her eyes flickered as Fiona screamed from the landing, and Jennifer barked orders, grateful at least that Olivia was downstairs.

‘Call an ambulance. Tell them she’s slashed her wrists and she’s barely conscious.’

Jennifer pushed her fingers onto Joanna’s neck until she found the slow throb of her pulse. She turned back to Fiona, unmoving in the hall.

‘Fiona did you hear me? Call the ambulance. Call Nick. And keep Olivia away.’

Fiona remained frozen, her face struck in dumb horror.

‘Fiona,’ Jennifer shouted behind her. ‘Do it. Now!’

Jennifer made herself busy, grabbing the towels from the handrail and wrapping them tightly around Joanna’s wounds. ‘Stay with me, Joanna, everything’s going to be all right,’ Jennifer soothed, fighting to keep the panic out of her voice. Joanna opened her eyes until they were two puffy slits, the colour rapidly draining from her skin.

‘Let me die,’ she moaned, her head lolling to one side.

Pulling the plug from the bath, Jennifer gasped at the shock of red blotting through the towels. There was so much blood. But at least the water was warm. It couldn’t have happened very long ago. Thick spirals of blood ran down the plughole as Jennifer worked quickly, cloaking Joanna with towels before reapplying pressure on the wounds.

‘It was me,’ Joanna moaned. ‘I killed Abigail. I remember now.’

Fiona’s shadow filled the doorway. ‘The ambulance is on its way. So is Nick. Is she going to be all right?’

Jennifer turned, her voice clipped. ‘Can you keep an eye on Olivia? I need you downstairs to direct the ambulance.’

Jennifer turned her attention back onto Joanna, painfully aware that it could be the last chance she’d get to find out where Abigail was.

‘Where is she? Tell me where she is.’

‘My father. He used to take pictures. I was his little princess . . .’

‘Where is Abigail?’

‘She was just like me. I couldn’t let it happen again. So I hid her away. I hid it all away. To keep her safe . . . but then I forgot.’

‘Where is she, Joanna?’ Jennifer said, leaning across the roll-top bath, her face inches from Joanna’s.

Sounds of a siren warned that time was running out. Jennifer clamped her hands on the towels as another shock of red bled through.

‘I . . . I don’t remember,’ she murmured, between laboured breaths.

Jennifer gritted her teeth. She was so close to answers, it was painful.

‘Where? Where is she? On the farm? In the woods?’

But Joanna just lolled her head from side to side, strings of damp hair clinging to her skin.

‘It’s too late now.’

‘What happened?’ Jennifer shouted. ‘Please, Joanna!’ She wanted to slap her, to shock her back to reality. Joanna could be dying, and she couldn’t let her take the secret to the grave.

‘No more pictures . . . he can’t hurt me now . . .’ Joanna said, almost incoherent, as heavy boots pounded up the stairs. Led by Fiona, the paramedics bundled into the bathroom, just as Joanna slipped away.