Chapter Eighteen

Chad startled at the alert on his phone.

He snatched it off the arm of the sofa, heart in his throat, then slumped at yet another magpie hopping across the mud in front of one of the cameras. If he didn't know any better, he would've thought they were doing it on purpose to torment him.

Romeo had told him once that a group of magpies were sometimes called a mischief. They were certainly living up to their name, cackling wildly in the distance every time they gave Chad a mini heart attack.

"Give it here," Romeo said, holding his hand out for the phone.

They were on the sofa having just had dinner. Romeo lounged with his feet on the coffee table, but Chad had been unable to relax. Instead, he sat ramrod straight, on the edge, ready to move. He'd been like that all day, jumping at shadows, and gasping every time his phone made a noise.

"Why?" Chad asked. He curled his fingers protectively around the device.

Romeo sighed, making a show of holding out his hand again.

Chad put his phone into Romeo's palm, and watched as he spun it, then tapped away on the app, silencing the camera alerts. His phone would still light up every time a sensor got triggered, but would no longer buzz and vibrate.

"But what if—"

"You need to relax," Romeo said, looking him over. "You didn't sleep last night."

"How could I after Josh—"

"And all day you've been jumping out of your skin every time your phone goes off. Your heart is racing."

"You don't know that—"

"Your whole body jolts every time it beats. I can see it, Chad. You're sweating, your eyes are darting, you fidget … even Merc is on edge because of you."

Chad looked at Merc in his bed, Peter Rabbit between his paws, and his big eyes on Chad. He whined shrilly and lowered his head.

"Relax," Romeo said slowly.

Chad opened his mouth to argue before slumping. "I'll try."

"Good."

He'd just started to relax, eyes half closing as the sleep he'd been denying himself fought back, but the news reporter's voice, no longer a low grumble, pitched with excitement.

"We're receiving reports from Wiltknot," he said, flicking his eyes back and forth along the teleprompter. "Vincent Whitehall has been rushed to St. John's hospital. He's said to be in critical condition. This is a major blow in the hopes of finding Harriet Hastings' remains."

"I've got to go," Chad mumbled, heaving himself up.

Romeo raised an eyebrow. "Why? What are you planning on doing? Speeding his death along."

"I'm going to make sure he doesn't escape."

"Do you really think that's likely?"

"You escaped from a hospital." Chad frowned. "I wouldn't put it past Vincent to have planned this all just so he can make a break for it."

"Then you'd better get over there." Romeo turned back to the TV. "You can try to coax him into the car and bring him here. We can make those fantasies you didn't want to tell me a reality."

Chad rolled his eyes as he left the room.

****

A cordon had been set up a healthy distance from the front doors to the hospital. Chad blinked each time a camera flash singed his eyeballs and blocked out the roar of questions from the press. They stirred with excitement when they spotted him jogging from the car park. He kept his head low, his eyes tracking the ground as he stepped inside. Lynn met him in reception, and took him by the elbow, steering him away from the conjugated outpatients.

"He's this way," she said, hurrying Chad along the corridor. "He's in a quieter part of the hospital. Staff didn't want his presence to upset the other patients. We would've preferred Vincent's condition and location be kept a secret, but you know firsthand what the press are like."

"Are there police officers present?" Chad asked.

"One at Vincent's door."

Chad's eyebrows shot up. "One? One officer? Is that all?"

"There's only one way in and out of Vincent's room—"

"But what if he overpowers the officer?"

Lynn's brutal pace slowed. Her brow pinched as she looked at him. "Vincent's not going to be staging any last minute escape attempts, Chad. He has multiple organ failure. This … this is it."

They rounded a corner, and Chad came to a stop. He whipped his gaze around the scene. Lucy Hastings sat on a chair, clutching her handbag. She dug her nails into the leather, staring at the door opposite her. Her hair looked matted, and the purple hue beneath her eyes suggested she'd not been sleeping.

James Poole paced back and forth in front of a row of four chairs, muttering to himself as he stroked a hand through his hair. His tie was askew, his shirt was untucked—he appeared just as sleep deprived as Lucy. James paused briefly to glance at Chad before resuming his rambling march.

Lastly, Chad looked at the police officer slouched against the wall, yawning into the back of his hand. He straightened when he noticed Chad staring at him, and gave him a friendly nod that Chad didn't return. He was young, too young to have the responsibly of making sure Vincent Whitehall stayed in his room. There was not one wrinkle on his face and his stubble looked like soft brown fuzz on his cheeks.

"Any news?" Chad asked, not aiming his question at anyone.

Lucy twisted her body away from him and turned her head in a clear ‘fuck you' gesture. The officer shrugged, and leaned to look through the window in the door.

"The doctor is in there now." Lynn said. "You might want to take a seat."

Chad eyed up his options. A seat beside Lucy who scratched her nails audibly against her handbag when he looked at her, or a seat where James paced, working a groove into the floor. Just watching him made Chad nauseated.

Chad shot Lynn a small smile. "I'm fine here."

"If you're sure."

Lynn stepped away and sat down beside Lucy. She ran a comforting hand up her back until Lucy turned towards her. Chad backed up to the wall, eyeing the door. The officer guarding it kept straight, and tried to fight off a yawn, but it distorted his face and his eyes watered.

They waited until the doctor stepped out of Vincent's room with a grim look on his face. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his white scrubs and opened his mouth to speak, but James rushed him, blurting out questions.

"Is he still alive? Has he said anything? Has he—"

"He's very weak," the doctor raised his hand to stop James's jumping in again, "but he's requested to speak to you."

"Who?" James demanded.

The doctor glanced at each of them. "All of you."

James made to go past the doctor, but he was stopped by a firm hand on his chest. "One at a time. Starting with you, James—"

"Then what are you waiting for?" James snapped, pushing his way into the room.

The door shut behind him. Chad moved further up the corridor and took a seat.

Lucy bounced her leg on the floor until Lynn took hold of her hand and squeezed. Chad lowered his gaze to his hands in his lap, fiddling with his fingers during the wait.

Ten minutes after James had gone into Vincent's room, the door opened, and he stepped out, red faced and shaking his head.

"What did he say?" Chad asked.

Lucy sniffled, and lifted her head from the crook of Lynn's neck.

"Nothing of any use," James snapped, before stalking off.

Chad shared the briefest of glances with Lucy, then she stood up, still clutching her handbag and stepped up to the door. The officer standing guard opened it for her as she hovered on the threshold before stepping inside.

Lynn sighed. Chad resumed staring at his hands until approaching footsteps grew too loud to be blocked out. He lifted his head, only to gape at Ally standing in the corridor. Her mouth was set in a hard line and her eyes lacked their usual warmth. She unbuttoned her purple coat while directing a question at Lynn.

"Am I too late?"

"No," Lynn said. "He's still alive and he's still coherent enough to speak. He's asking for visitors one at a time."

"Of course he is." Ally replied. "He does like to drag things out and increase the suffering as much as possible. It's a pity he gets what he wants right to the end."

Chad bristled at the barb aimed his way.

"You're here, too." Chad said softly.

"Not at Vincent's request." Ally smiled cruelly at the door. "He doesn't want to see me, but I'm not going to give him a choice. My ugly mug will be the last one he sees if I have my way."

The door opened and Lucy inched into the corridor with her bottom lip trembling. The tops of her nails bled from where she'd been gripping her bag. Lynn shot to her feet, and wrapped an arm around her back, but Lucy didn't acknowledge her help as they disappeared down the corridor.

"She looks ready to break." Ally remarked. She looked over to Chad. "Isn't it your turn?"

He nodded, getting to his feet. "Ally…"

She waved him off. "Later."

Chad pushed the door open and stepped into the room.

Vincent Whitehall lay on the bed on his side, gaunt faced, and wheezing. A thin sheet covered him, but his arm was out, curling up towards his chin. He held a bloodied tissue in his hand. Chad sat down on the chair beside the bed and was hit by a sudden sense of déjà vu.

Vincent's state reminded him of his own mother on her death bed. He remembered looking down on her and feeling nothing. He remembered the nurses who'd been treating her standing either side of him, rubbing his arms, telling him how sorry they were. Then Chad remembered their faces, their confusion twisting into disgust at his lack of emotion to his mother's death.

He didn't cry.

He didn't lean on them for support.

He backed away from them and left the room.

"What are you thinking about?"

Vincent's words left his lips in a painful sounding whisper. His eyes had opened a crack. They were black and sunken, but they found Chad.

"I was thinking about my mother," Chad whispered.

"She died in the hospital."

He nodded.

"Do you miss her?"

Chad shook his head. "No."

"Did you love her?"

"She was my mother."

Vincent snorted softly. "That's not an answer, and yet, somehow it answers my question perfectly. You shouldn't fear judgement from anyone, Chad, least of all me. If it's okay to love someone you shouldn't, then it must be okay not to love someone you should."

"What has this all been about, Vincent?"

"You know what this was about."

"You want the public to see me fail—"

Vincent laughed, but it turned into gasps, and weak, wet coughs into his tissue. "I wasn't the one to involve the press. I don't care what the public thinks. All I cared about was the promise you broke to me. I gave you something, I gave you information in exchange for your word, and that led to you saving a life. You owed me."

"Maybe." Chad wrung his hands together. "Maybe I did owe you."

"Then why didn't you visit?"

"I thought it was a bad idea—"

"But why?" Vincent slid his head closer on the pillow.

"You're a serial killer. You murdered—"

"Romeo Knight was a serial killer. You loved him. You still love him."

Chad looked away. "You know nothing about Romeo."

"Were you afraid I would've reminded you of him? Did you think whatever we talked about in Wiltknot would've brought up memories of your time together in the farmhouse? I won't lie, I found you and him fascinating. Maybe if I'd have kept one of the girls alive long enough I would've manipulated her like Romeo did you."

"He didn't manipulate me."

"Oh, Chad, for someone who thinks himself so clever you can be shockingly na?ve."

Chad pushed back in his chair. "If you've just brought me in here to talk about Romeo, then I'm done."

"I brought you in here for four words."

"Four words." Chad cracked his jaw. "I remember."

"Want to hear them?"

"Yes."

Vincent smiled. "I didn't kill Harriet."

Chad stared at him blankly. Vincent's smile spread until the edges of his mouth cracked and bled.

"That's it? Those are the four words?" Chad asked. "The ones that will bring about my downfall?"

Vincent hummed. "They are."

"I already suspected you hadn't killed her."

"Because you're such a clever detective I thought you might," Vincent scrunched his nose. "But now you know for certain. I didn't kill Harriet. It wasn't me."

"Then who did?"

"Not my area of expertise."

"Why would you admit to killing her when you didn't?"

Vincent sighed. "I didn't want to bring the other killer's fun to an end. It's us against you, the light against the dark, and I thought why not let them go free. I hoped after one, they would've got a taste for more. It can be quite addicting."

"How did you know about the tattoo?"

"Eileen told me."

Chad blinked. "What?"

"Eileen, Harriet's mother, wrote to me. She told me things, things like … how she fell off her bike at fourteen and needed an operation. How Harriet had been so looking forward to them bringing sheep onto the farm. How she loved to sing. How her and her sister had been arguing over a boy, Gavin, and that boy, after she'd tracked him down years later, had told her about a dolphin tattoo on her daughter's ankle."

"But you knew what it looked like—"

"I did. Eileen sketched me a picture in one of her letters. Gavin had a matching one in the same place that Harriet had done for him. Romantic, don't you think?"

"Eileen sent you letters?"

Vincent nodded. "Yes, don't you remember me telling you I get lots of letters? There's few I reply to, Tate just stood out to me, but Eileen kept sending them despite my lack of response. I think she found it therapeutic telling me about Harriet, trying to appeal to my human side. I burned the letters after I read them of course. I don't need sentiment—from what I've seen it makes people weak and easy to manipulate."

Chad squeezed his temples. "I get that you're angry at me, but why drag Lucy and James into this?"

"Because if I was a betting man, I'd bet on one of them. The jealous love rival or the obsessed grieving dad. I saw the posters about James, you know, all those years ago, the ones Lucy and Harriet's father made, the ones warning about the pedophile in the police force. I don't know who killed Harriet, but that was never the point of all this."

"You wanted to get to me."

"Yes. I set the board. I brought in the players. But it's you that's been rolling the dice."

"More riddles. We're just puppets being made to dance on your strings."

Vincent closed his eyes. "I like that comparison."

"Lucy came up with it."

"But what happens when the puppeteer can no longer hold you up?"

Chad shook his head.

"You all fall." Vincent smiled with his eyes closed. "It was nice seeing you again, Chad."

"The feeling isn't mutual."

"I wouldn't imagine it would be. Now on your way out, tell the doctor no more visitors. I want to die in peace."

Chad got to his feet. "No can do."

"Why not?"

"There's one more person waiting to see you, Vincent, and I know more than most, she won't take no for an answer."

Vincent's eyes snapped open. He bared his teeth, gritting them together until his whole body shook. "I don't want to see her."

"Tough." Ally said from the doorway. "I'm going to watch you die and I'm going to enjoy it. Those were the words you said to me once and how I've longed for the day I could say them back."

She turned her body, and gestured for Chad to leave.

Chad caught her hand and squeezed it as he passed her.