02-Shifting Skin (17 page)

The mid-morning traffic was light, allowing Fiona to reach the house with reassuring speed. The driveway was empty, but she parked slightly further down the road, ready for a quick getaway if needed. At the mouth of the driveway she paused. If he did reappear and find her, she didn’t know what he’d do. But he won’t be drunk, she assured herself, using the knowledge to summon up enough resolve to approach the front door.

It opened to reveal that morning’s post on the doormat. He’s at work, she told herself, stepping inside and bolting the door behind her. She hurried through to the kitchen and unlocked the back door. Her escape route prepared, she went upstairs.

She pulled the big suitcase out from under the bed, opened the wardrobe and hastily started to fold clothes. Then she dragged it across to the dressing table and used her forearm to sweep all her bottles and pots into it. They cascaded onto her clothes, perfume bottles clinking. The noise was brief, but lasted long enough for her to imagine it could have masked the sound of his car pulling up. She looked from the window and saw an empty street. Breathing a sigh of relief, she rushed into the bathroom for all her toiletries.

The suitcase bumped down the stairs and she hauled it into the kitchen. He kept control of all their finances, including her wages from the beauty salon. But she knew some emergency cash was hidden in the biscuit tin. She flipped off the lid only to see a handwritten note:
Rot in hell, you whore
.

She flung the lid against the cooker, a cry of frustration escaping her. Looking around the kitchen, she yanked open the cupboard under the sink. The bottle of gin went into her suitcase, then she grabbed the bleach and squirted it all over the contents of the fridge. After flinging the empty bottle in the sink, she lifted up her suitcase and staggered round the side of the house.

She could hear a vehicle slowly approaching. She crouched down behind the wheelie bin. A driving instructor’s car, teenager at the wheel. Breathing out, she dragged the suitcase across the lawn and along the pavement to her car. Only when she was actually pulling away did she dare to believe she’d got away with it.

Her next stop was Melvyn’s beauty salon. She parked round the back, then rummaged in the suitcase for her concealing cream. After touching it over her bruises, she walked round to the front of the salon and went in.

Melvyn glanced in the mirror, a segment of wet hair between two fingers. He met her eyes, and his scissors paused for a moment. ‘Where’ve you been, you bitch?’

Behind him, Janice also paused, halfway through plucking a woman’s eyebrow.

Oh Jesus, he’s genuinely annoyed. Fiona’s knees felt like they were about to buckle as Melvyn looked back down at his customer’s head. But then he turned to face her again, a big grin on his face. ‘Come here, you gorgeous woman!’

The scissors were discarded and he crossed the floor with small steps, jeans hanging off his hips. Hugging her with unusual force, he whispered in her ear, ‘Did that bastard do that to your face?’

He pulled back to get eye contact and Fiona nodded, hand going to her eyebrow as tears welled up.

‘Right!’ He gestured to a girl sweeping up strands of hair.

‘Zoe, get that kettle on and bring out the posh biscuits. You’

– he took Fiona’s shoulders and directed her towards a chair

– ‘put your feet up and relax. It’s time you had some pampering.’

Fiona fell into the chair, laughter bubbling in her voice.

‘Melvyn, really. You don’t need—’

‘Don’t tell me what to do in my bloody salon.’ Fingers adjusting his straggles of highlighted hair. ‘By the way, Zoe, Fiona. Fiona, Zoe. She’s with us on a work placement for a fortnight.’

He went back to his customer, and Zoe smiled uncertainly from under a low-hanging fringe. ‘Would you like tea or coffee?’

Alice came out of her side room. Her smile didn’t falter when she saw how Fiona looked. ‘Hiya, babe, good to have you back.’ Slowly, she crossed the room and carefully lowered herself into a seat beside Fiona. ‘You OK?’

Fiona nodded too vigorously. ‘I’ve left him. For good, this time.’

‘You go, girl,’ Melvyn called – his customer looked totally bemused at the goings-on.

‘How are you?’ Fiona said, looking at Alice’s huge stomach. Alice’s face was glowing. ‘Great, thanks. Where are you staying?’

‘It’s not that far away. Some really decent people live there.’ She swallowed back her shame. ‘It’s a refuge, you know.’

Alice nodded. ‘Listen, we’ve got a spare room. It’s going to be the nursery, so if you can put up with a few cans of paint while Jon finishes decorating it . . .’

Fiona laid a hand on Alice’s forearm. ‘That’s so kind, but I really want to make a go of it on my own.’

‘I understand. But if you feel different, the offer’s open.’ She looked back towards her room. ‘Customer’s waiting. See you in a bit?’ She pushed herself to her feet.

Ten minutes later Melvyn finished with his customer. He slumped down beside Fiona and picked up the carton of biscuits.

‘Is that all that’s left? Zoe, grab a tenner from the till and get us some nice ones from Marks and Sparks.’ He turned to Fiona. ‘So you’ve really moved out?’

‘Yeah, I’m getting my own place. I can’t stay where I am much longer. Actually...’ She paused awkwardly. ‘You know it’s pay day next week?’

Melvyn held up a finger. ‘Of course, love. You can have your money, and some extra, too. You’ll need it for the deposit on your flat.’

He stood up and began to gently knead the back of Fiona’s neck. ‘Listen, love. About work. We can cover for you. Once you’re feeling better and you’ve settled into your new place, give me a call. We could always come round for a little housewarming do.’

Fiona leaned back and closed her eyes. ‘I don’t know what to say, Melvyn, except I’ll make it up to you.’ Suddenly she tensed and her eyes snapped open. ‘If he comes looking for me, you mustn’t say a thing.’

‘Bloody hell, Fiona.’ Melvyn lowered his hands. ‘I thought I’d trapped a nerve. Don’t worry. If that fat bastard comes in, I’ll tell him you don’t work here any more.’

Fiona smiled.

After they’d finished their cups of tea, Alice caught Fiona on the street outside. ‘Jon said you spoke to him,’ she said, slightly out of breath with the effort of taking just a few quick steps.

Fiona’s face tightened. ‘Yes. I’m sorry that I lost my temper.’

‘That’s all right. He’s used to it in his job.’

‘Yeah, well, I had good reason. If you’d heard what I heard, Alice...It’s right here.’ She tapped behind her ear. ‘I can’t get the noise out of my head. And no one cares. I know your Jon’s busy, but no one cares what happened. Well, I do. I’m going to find out what happened to her. The poor thing is little more than a child.’ She looked off into the distance.

‘Who?’ Alice said.

Fiona blinked. ‘Oh. I talked to the woman at the escort agency. She does remember someone, though whether she was called Alexia or Alicia I’m not really sure. Whoever she was, the woman wouldn’t take her on. Suspected a drug habit and sent her back to the streets, even though she was barely twenty.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘I don’t know. Try and find out what happened to her.’

‘But you don’t know if you’re even looking for the right girl.’

Fiona shrugged. ‘I just need to find out if she’s OK.’ Alice was frowning with confusion. ‘How?’

‘Well, if she was sent back to the streets, I could start asking the girls who work there.’

‘Prostitutes?’

Fiona nodded. ‘Someone must know her.’

‘Fiona, be careful. Until they catch this man . . .’

‘I’ve shared a house with a monster for long enough. I can watch out for myself, don’t you worry,’ she replied, not feeling the bravado she was trying to show.

Chapter 14

Tentatively, she inched the door open and looked inside. The curtains had been opened and morning sunlight was streaming in. The air in the room reflected the temperature outside, and she realised the window was open as far as it would go.

The patient was half sitting up in bed, bandaged face directed to the world beyond the window, tips of spiky hair catching the sun’s rays.

Seeing him staring off to the side like that reminded Dawn Poole of how they’d first met. It was in the hair care aisle of Boots just over four years ago. She had seen him scrutinising the bottles, a slimly built man not much bigger than her. He looked strangely helpless. He’d sensed her watching and turned awkwardly to face her.

His clumsy request for advice about hair dye had almost made her laugh. She’d assumed he was buying it for his elderly mother or some other female relative. As she explained the different choices that were available, the mixture of vulnerability and embarrassment in his face started to interest her. She wasn’t used to a man relying on her for help and then attentively listening to everything she had to say. Normally in her relationships it was the other way round.

She gave him a couple of tips on how best to apply the colouring, and enjoyed the feeling of being needed as he eagerly absorbed her advice. Then he had surprised her by tentatively asking about how to apply false eyelashes.

Realising he was asking for the benefit of himself and not someone else, she had offered to let him know about applying false nails, too. He’d accepted with a smile.

An hour later they were sitting in a coffee shop, him with a large bag of make-up on the seat next to him.

‘He came right into the room just now.’

The words were whispered with hardly any movement of the lips and Dawn was reminded of a novice trying to master the art of ventriloquism.

‘Who?’ she replied, walking into the room and sitting on the end of the bed.

‘The robin. I put some crumbs on the bed. He hopped right in and ate them. So beautiful, so delicate.’

She could tell the bandages hid the beginnings of a smile. The feeling of foreboding that had been building since the policeman questioned her dissipated slightly and was replaced by a warm glow of admiration.

She couldn’t imagine the pain he was going through. Knowing that she wouldn’t have been able to endure it, she took one hand in hers and stroked the smooth skin. ‘It’s good to see you looking happier.’

The patient was still looking out of the window. ‘Speaking, eating, sleeping. Everything still hurts. But now I feel it’s worth it again. Worth it for who I’m going to be.’

Dawn nodded. ‘That’s the attitude. You know, I’m happy just to be out of that miserable motel. The place is falling apart. If it gets inspected, they’ll close it straight off.’ She hooked a strand of hair over her ear. ‘Your dressings are due to be changed later on. I’m sure he’ll bring some more painkillers, too.’ The room was silent as she judged how to articulate the next sentence. She opted for a casual tone. ‘A policeman called at the motel a few nights ago.’

Eyes swivelled towards her, blood still caught in the lower half of their orbits.

‘He was asking questions. Someone thought they heard choking coming from one of the rooms. Choking like the person was in serious trouble.’

She waited for a response, but nothing came.

‘I told him no one came to me needing help.’ She glanced up seeking affirmation, but the patient had turned back to the window.

She reached into the bag and got out some women’s magazines and a copy of the local paper. The outside column of the front page was devoted to conjecture about the Butcher's latest victim, who still remained unidentified. 'I brought you some things to read.'

Chapter 15

At 11:17 the next day Jon’s computer pinged. Someone had entered the registration of Gordon Dean’s car in the Police National Computer’s database of stolen or abandoned vehicles. The system had then matched it to the flag he’d left earlier and relayed the alert to his computer.

He raised a hand and clicked his fingers at Rick. ‘Bingo! There’s a silver Passat at Piccadilly train station that has outstayed its welcome in the short-term car park. Registration matches our man’s.’

The car-park attendant looked at their identities with surprise. ‘I was just going to get it towed.’

‘No need for now,’ Jon replied. ‘Where is it?’

He led them up to the third floor, Jon’s head barely clearing the low concrete ceiling.

‘Over in the corner. See it?’

‘Cheers.’

They walked over and peered in through the windows. Rick leaned across the bonnet to see on to the dashboard. ‘Ticket purchased at five past seven in the morning five days ago. Fits with him checking out of the Novotel and coming straight here.’

Jon checked the back seat. ‘Empty. What do you reckon, then?’

‘Seems a bit early to be catching a train,’ Rick replied.

‘Unless you’re catching a train to catch a plane. They’re practically round the clock to the airport.’

‘Why not just drive there?’

‘True.’ Jon put his hand in his jacket pocket and hooked his fingers under the driver’s door handle. To his surprise, it opened.