Chapter 55

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

T he brass plaque on the door read Dr Raymond Grace MRCPsych and Dr Michael Rust MRCPsych. The building was impressive.

As they entered, Ana held her stomach as if in pain. Anxiety moved through her body like a current. The walls were blindingly white and two modern paintings hung on each.

Fear gnawed at her stomach, and she kept swallowing to ease the anxiety rising within her. Her hands trembled and her head ached. Then, for the first time in months, she dug out the Valium from her bag and swallowed two while Matt talked to the receptionist.

‘Jesus,' she muttered, as memories flooded her brain until she thought she would drown in them. They're just memories , she told herself. They're just the same as nightmares. They'll go soon.

‘It's okay,' she whispered. ‘It's okay.'

‘First floor,' said Matt, startling her.

They stepped into the lift and Ana could feel herself hyperventilating.

‘Jesus, Ana,' said Matt, concerned. ‘Are you okay?'

Ana struggled to take deep breaths. ‘I hate these sort of places.'

Matt frowned. ‘Right,' he said, thinking it odd, considering she had been in the mortuary earlier. Nowhere could be worse than that.

The lift opened, and Ana went straight to the water dispenser and took another Valium.

Matt flicked through a magazine in the waiting area while Ana paced the room. Jesus, how much longer would he be? ‘Have you ever met him?' she asked.

‘Vaguely, in a pub once when it was DS Harper's sister's birthday.'

Ana didn't think she could take much more. Her stomach was cramping unbearably, and she was about to excuse herself to the loo when a tall, handsome man opened the consulting room door. A young woman followed. They exchanged a few words, and then he turned to Ana and Matt. ‘Come in,' he said.

Adrenalin rushed through Ana as she entered the room. The cramps in her stomach got worse. Her head swam, and she suddenly became unsteady on her feet.

‘Ana?' questioned Matt, concerned.

There was a tingling in her chest, and she just wanted to escape. Her eyes fell on the sofa on the other side of the room, and she had to swallow constantly to stop vomiting.

Matt helped her into a chair, and slowly, the Valium began to calm her. ‘Maybe a delayed reaction to your morgue visit,' suggested Matt.

Shit, she could feel tears pricking her eyelids. Was it relief or ghostly memories?

‘I know I wouldn't cope with a visit to the morgue.' Ray smiled.

Ana swiped at her eyes. Before she knew it, Ray was standing in front of her with a plastic cup of water.

‘This might help,' he said,'

Ana's whole body shook. ‘No,' she shouted, slapping the cup from his hand.

Ray, taken aback, just looked at Ana before Matt broke the silence.

‘Shit,' he said, grabbing several tissues from a box on the coffee table and attempting to soak up the water. ‘Sorry about that.'

‘It's fine,' said Ray. ‘I'll fetch a towel.'

Ana forced herself to take several deep breaths. Hold it together , she told herself firmly.

‘What the hell is the matter, Ana? You look terrible?' whispered Matt.

‘I'm fine,' she said tersely.

Ray had mopped the floor and now sat in a chair opposite them. ‘Are you feeling a bit better?' he asked her.

‘I'll be fine,' she said, although her heart was hammering so fast that she held her hands tightly together to stop Matt and Ray from seeing them tremble.

‘I try to avoid the morgue.' Matt smiled, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

‘We're here to discuss your sessions with Elaine Lees?' Ana said bluntly.

Ray frowned. ‘The girl that was attacked at the fair?' he asked. ‘That was awful.'

Matt nodded and looked down at his notes. ‘Her social worker, Rufus Jones, referred her to you. He found her hard to handle and a bit provocative.'

Ana watched as Ray tapped into his laptop. She noticed he had a bald patch at the top of his scalp.

‘Ah, yes, he did. He thought she had attention-seeking issues and that she was trying to harass him in some way. He's quite young, if I remember. So I booked her in and arranged for my receptionist to be present. I thought it safer, although the receptionist would have left if the client had refused to have her present in the room.'

‘When was this?' asked Matt.

‘The 3rd of June at seven. She never attended the appointment. I booked another one for a week later. She arrived for that one. I didn't expect her to, so I didn't arrange to have anyone in attendance.'

He scrolled down the screen. ‘I can read my notes, as there is nothing confidential in them. The client arrived, seemingly irritated to be here. She refused to answer questions and was silent most of the session. She spent much of the time biting her nails and checking the time on the clock.'

Ana glanced over at the clock on the clinical white wall.

‘It's the client's right to spend their hour here as they wish. The client then made it clear she wouldn't be returning,' Ray explained.

‘How did she make it clear?' asked Ana.

Ray closed his laptop. ‘I'm sorry. I can't share that. It was personal reasons.'

Ana clenched her fists. ‘But she's dead. We're investigating that death.'

‘Nothing she said in our session would be connected to her death. She gave her reasons for not attending again, and I respected them. I asked her if she would prefer another psychiatrist and referred her to Dr Rust.'

Ana felt her body slightly relax as the Valium travelled through her bloodstream, and she looked cautiously around the consulting room as though expecting a monster to jump out of a corner of the room. Her eyes took in the bare white walls, the couch, the cabinet full of…

‘Do you ever need to sedate any of your patients before you begin therapy?' she asked.

Ray cocked his head. ‘Excuse me?'

‘Sedate them?' she repeated.

‘Sedate them?' he asked, surprised. ‘What for? They're not having an operation. If they're a bit anxious, I'll do deep breathing with them.' He looked at Matt and then back to Ana. ‘I'm sorry, but I don't understand your question.'

‘There was a high level of Rohypnol in Elaine Lees' blood,' said Ana.

He didn't look surprised. ‘Was she perhaps using it recreationally? After all she was at a fair with lots of young people,' he said.

Matt met his eyes. ‘It was a fatal dose.'

‘A therapist wouldn't give that to a patient,' he insisted. Ray checked his watch and then stood up.

Ana could see from the glint in his eyes and the sudden tightness of his mouth that he was angry but trying not to show it.

‘I've told you everything I know about Leanne Lees and–'

‘Elaine Lees,' corrected Ana.

‘I apologise. I have a patient in a few minutes, and I can assure you we do not use sedating drugs such as Rohypnol during our sessions. It would leave the patient powerless to talk; therapy is about sharing feelings, not preventing the patient from doing so.'

Ana glanced over at the couch, and her stomach turned over. Not here , she pleaded, not here . ‘Thanks for your time,' she said.

She didn't bother waiting for Matt but hurried straight to the loo directly opposite reception. The paintings on the wall now looked fuzzy and distorted. Her stomach lurched and gurgled. The cubicle door locked safely behind her; she fell to her knees and threw up into the toilet bowl. It seemed like the retching would never end. Her phone pinged several times. Probably Matt , she thought. Her head thumped with every beat of her heart.

‘Ana?' It was Matt.

Ana grabbed some toilet roll and wiped the sweat from her forehead. ‘I'll be out in a sec. Sorry, must have been something I ate.' She rinsed her mouth with cold water and then splashed her face. Finally, she took several deep breaths before walking out of the toilets.

‘Christ, Ana, you had me worried.'

She walked quickly to the doors. ‘I need some air, that's all.'

The door was pushed open, and Ana stepped back to prevent it from colliding with her. The air she so needed was still out of her reach.

‘I'm so sorry.'

Ana found herself forced back into the clinically white reception area, and a man was stepping on her toe. Ana shivered, pulled her foot away and started shaking again.

‘Are you okay?' the man asked, concerned. He touched her arm reassuringly, but she recoiled like she'd received an electric shock.

‘Dr Rust, I have a call for you,' said the receptionist.

‘One moment.' He turned to Ana, who was struggling with the door. Why the fuck didn't Matt open it?

‘Let me get you some water,' Dr Rust said kindly.

She ignored him, yanked open the door, and took a lungful of air while grasping the railings surrounding the building to keep herself upright.

Matt seemed concerned and said, ‘Let's get you home. I'll explain that you came over unwell. I'll come back and question Dr Rust.'

No, I'll come with you,' she said, but deep down, she knew she couldn't do it. She couldn't face Dr Michael Rust's consulting room, see his couch, or look at the whiteness of the walls. She took a deep breath before saying, ‘I think I should go home after all.'

Matt nodded. Ana hoped Matt would connect her feeling unwell after visiting the morgue. Hopefully, he wouldn't realise it was a panic attack. She could tell from his expression he was confused. She knew she was acting oddly, but how could she explain why to Matt?

‘Is there something wrong?' he asked.

Ana steered the conversation back to Elaine Lees, and eventually, he gave up, and they drove home in silence.

Jassy's mum had made a chicken casserole and told Jassy to take it to Jim and Needles. Jassy wasn't keen. Needles had always frightened her, and Jim said things that didn't make sense, and she never knew how to answer him.

‘Make sure they eat it,' her mum had ordered.

The smell of the food made Jassy sick to her stomach. How could anyone eat knowing Laine was dead? It seemed to Jassy that time had come to a standstill. The shock and disbelief were palpable throughout the village. She kept expecting Laine to WhatsApp and tell her it was another of her silly jokes. But Laine didn't WhatsApp or text. Jassy had told the police that Laine had started to throw a lot of money around, but Jassy didn't know where it came from. The night of the fair, Laine wanted to impress Sajid.

‘She wanted to win him back,' she said. ‘He would never hurt her. He just didn't want trouble with her brother.'

They asked her about the social worker, and she said she didn't think Laine ever went. ‘Said it was a waste of time.'

Jassy couldn't face the fact that she'd never see Laine again. Laine had been so happy in her lovely dress and new shoes that night. So why had Sajid ruined everything?

‘Oh, Laine,' she whispered, tears watering her eyes. ‘I miss you so much.'

Needles opened the door and Jassy gasped in shock. He was unshaven, his eyes red and sore, and he wore a shabby top with food stains on it.

‘Mum made a casserole,' she said.

He looked at the stoneware pot and opened the door wider.

‘Who is it?' called Jim.

‘Just a friend. It's okay.'

Jassy followed him into the kitchen, where he placed the pot on the counter that had toast crumbs peppered all over it. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of the overflowing bin and offered to empty it, but Needles said he would do it later. Jassy didn't know what else to do, so she walked to the kettle, ignored the rust-stains on the sink and dirty dishes, and filled it from the juddering tap.

‘The tap isn't working properly,' she told Needles.

‘It's good enough.'

‘Shall I make Jim one?'

‘Nah, he'll just forget it's there. He's probably dozed off again.'

Placing the tea on the kitchen table, she sat opposite Needles. ‘It wasn't Sajid. He wouldn't hurt Laine for the world.'

‘I know,' He nodded. ‘It was The Vigilante. He disrespected me on the coach. He smashed my bike. And now he's killed my sister because he hates me.' Jassy thought the same, but why did this hooded fucker hate Needles so much that he'd kill his sister? First, the incident with the coach, then the bike, and now Laine. There had to be a connection.

‘You're coming to the candle-lit vigil tomorrow night, aren't you?' asked Jassy. ‘Loads of people are going to be there. We need to show Laine how much we love her.' She burst into uncontrollable tears. ‘I should have followed her into the woods instead of being such a coward,' she sobbed. ‘I could have saved her.'

Needles stood and walked around the table, and then they were hugging and crying together. ‘He might have attacked you, too. I'll get the bastard,' he said. ‘I'll make him wish he'd never been born.'