Authors: Stephen Leather
Tags: #Fantasy, #Fiction, #Suspense, #Thrillers, #Thriller
Nightmare (35 page)
‘You should listen to yourself. Have you any idea how crazy you sound?’
‘Can you at least consider the possibility that he might have done to you what he did to my sister?’
‘What are you saying, Jack?’
Nightingale took a deep breath. He had no idea how Jenny was going to react to what he was about to say, but he was pretty sure that she wouldn’t be happy. ‘I’m saying that maybe he’s hypnotised you, the way that he hypnotised my sister. And that maybe you’re the one who told him about the books in the basement.’
Jenny looked at him coldly, picked up her glass, and threw her drink in his face.
53
Nightingale wiped his face with the tea towel that Barbara had given him after Jenny stormed out of the kitchen and upstairs to her bedroom. ‘She didn’t take that well, did she?’ he said.
‘What did you expect, Jack? You accused her of betraying you. That’s not something you say lightly.’
‘I didn’t mean that she did it deliberately,’ said Nightingale, dabbing at his soaked shirt. ‘I think Fairchild has conned her. Maybe even hypnotised her.’
‘Jack, she’s known Marcus since she was a child. He’s been a close friend of Jenny’s father since before she was born. He’s her godfather, for goodness sake. You can’t go making vague accusations like that.’
‘I don’t think I was that vague, actually.’ He dropped the tea towel onto the worktop. ‘I’m serious about this, Barbara. She told him that the police had taken me for questioning. Why would she do that?’
‘He’s a lawyer, and a bloody good one. She wanted to help you.’
‘But after what happened with my sister, she must have known that I’d want nothing to do with him. So why talk to him about me?’
Barbara shrugged. ‘I can’t answer that. I don’t know.’
‘And the first time I met him, at her parents’ house over Christmas, he’d already talked to her about my sister.’
‘Well, he was on your sister’s legal team.’
‘And you don’t think that’s a coincidence?’
Barbara frowned. ‘You’ve lost me, Jack.’
‘Fairchild was on my sister’s legal team, but from what you got out of her under hypnosis it’s clear that he was responsible for her conviction in the first place. He killed at least one of those children, maybe all of them.’
‘That’s if you believe what your sister said. And that’s a very big if, Jack.’
‘I heard the recording, and that seemed pretty definite.’
‘I’m sure that your sister believed what she told me, but that doesn’t mean it’s true.’
‘What do you think, Barbara? Do you think my sister’s making it up? Or do you think that Marcus Fairchild framed her for murder?’
Barbara threw up her hands. ‘I don’t know, Jack. I’m sorry.’
Nightingale looked towards the stairs. ‘She’s really pissed off, isn’t she?’
‘Do you blame her? Her dad’s been best mates with Marcus Fairchild since the year dot. If you accuse him that’s as good as accusing her dad.’
‘This is nothing to do with her dad. Barbara, there’s something not right about that man, and I need you to help me prove it.’
‘Me? What can I do?’
‘Same as you did before.’
Barbara’s mouth fell open. ‘Jenny’s never going to agree to that,’ she said.
‘She might,’ said Nightingale. ‘If you asked her.’
54
Nightingale looked up as Barbara came down the stairs, He was about to say something when he realised that Jenny was behind her. Her eyes were red as if she’d been crying. ‘I’m sorry, kid,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want to upset you.’
Jenny pointed a finger at him. ‘I’ll do this because Barbara asked me to, but once it’s done I’m going to want an apology from you and a promise that you’ll never, ever, mention my uncle again.’
‘It’s a promise,’ said Nightingale, getting off his stool.
Jenny looked at Barbara. ‘This is crazy. It really is crazy.’
‘You have to go into this with an open mind,’ said Barbara. ‘It’s not going to work if you’re negative.’
Jenny nodded. ‘Okay, I’ll get myself into a more positive frame of mind.’ She walked over to the breakfast bar and poured champagne into her glass.
‘I hope that’s not for me,’ said Nightingale.
Jenny flashed him a tight smile, drank it all in one, then refilled her glass.
‘Is she okay drinking?’ Nightingale asked Barbara.
‘What do you mean by that?’ said Jenny. ‘I’m not the one with the drink problem.’ She drank half her champagne.
‘I meant for the hypnosis. Doesn’t drink affect the process?’
‘In moderation it can actually help,’ said Barbara. ‘It’s a relaxant.’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ said Jenny. She toasted them with her glass and then drained it.
‘You’re going to relax yourself into a coma,’ said Nightingale.
Jenny smiled sarcastically. ‘Yeah? Pot. Kettle. Black.’ She poured the last of the champagne into her glass.
‘Shall we get started?’ asked Barbara.
‘Let’s,’ said Jenny. ‘Where do we do it?’
‘The sofa in the sitting room should do the trick,’ said Barbara. ‘But anywhere you feel comfortable is fine.’
‘The sofa works for me,’ said Jenny. She finished her champagne and headed for the sitting room.
The television was on with the sound muted. Barbara picked up the remote and switched it off. ‘Take off your shoes,’ she said. ‘You’ll probably be most relaxed if you lie down but sitting is okay.’ Jenny sat down on the sofa, slipped off her shoes and then lay back. She plumped up a cushion and slid it behind her head.
‘What about me?’ asked Nightingale.
‘That’s up to Jenny,’ said Barbara. She looked at her friend. ‘If it makes you uncomfortable then he should stay outside.’
‘It’s okay,’ said Jenny. ‘Unless he hears it for himself he’s not going to believe it anyway so he might as well stay.’
Nightingale sat down in a winged easy chair by the fireplace.
Barbara picked up a chair from around the circular dining table by the window and carried it over to the sofa. She put it down so that she could sit at Jenny’s shoulder.
‘Are you sitting comfortably?’ asked Jenny.
Barbara wagged her finger at Jenny. ‘You take this seriously, young lady,’ she said. ‘You’re dealing with a professional, remember?’
‘Yes, miss. Sorry, miss.’ Jenny took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
‘Okay, close your eyes and I want you to listen to your own breathing. Try to breathe as slowly as possible. Slow and even. The slower the better. Not too deep, not too shallow.’
Jenny did as she was told. Nightingale crossed his ankles and sat back in his chair. Barbara began to speak in a slow, deep voice, barely more than a murmur, her mouth close to Jenny’s ear. Nightingale couldn’t make out what she was saying but the tone and rhythm were so soothing that he started to feel his eyelids getting heavy. He blinked and forced himself to concentrate but even then he had to struggle not to fall asleep.
Barbara continued to talk to Jenny for almost five minutes before sitting back in her chair and nodding over at Nightingale. ‘She’s under,’ she mouthed.
Jenny’s eyes were closed and her chest was rising and falling slowly. Nightingale could hear a slight wheeze as she breathed in and out.
‘Jenny, can you hear me?’ asked Barbara quietly.
‘Yes,’ said Jenny, her voice a dull monotone.
‘Everything’s calm and peaceful. You’re safe here, you’re among friends. Do you understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘I want you to go back in your mind to the last time that you spoke to your Uncle Marcus. Can you do that for me?’
‘Yes,’ said Jenny.
‘Did you talk to him on the phone? Or did you see him?’
‘I saw him,’ said Jenny.
‘Where?’
‘He came here.’
‘Here? To your house?’
‘Yes.’
‘When?’
‘Three days ago. Saturday.’
‘That can’t be right,’ said Nightingale.
Barbara silenced him with a warning look, then pressed a finger to her lips. ‘Shhh.’
Nightingale nodded. He was leaning forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees.
‘Jenny?’
‘Yes?’
‘I want you to go back to three days ago, when Uncle Marcus came to see you. Can you do that? Can you do that for me, Jenny?’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘It’s five minutes before he’s due to arrive. What are you wearing?’
‘Blue jeans. My Versace T-shirt. The one with the angel wings on the back.’
‘I need you to look at your watch, Jenny. What time is it?’
‘Five to eight,’ said Jenny.
‘And he said he’d come to see you at eight o’clock?’
‘Yes. He phoned me before.’
‘And it’s Saturday?’
‘Yes. Saturday.’
Nightingale frowned as he realised that Jenny had lied when she’d said that the last time she’d seen Fairchild was when he’d gone to the police station. But that didn’t make any sense at all. Why would she lie to him?
‘Now I want you to go forward until Marcus arrives. Did he knock at the door or ring the bell?’
‘He rang the bell. The intercom.’
‘That’s good, Jenny. Now I want you to go to the door and open it. Can you do that for me?’
‘Sure,’ said Jenny.
‘So open the door and tell me what you see.’
‘It’s Uncle Marcus.’
‘What’s he wearing, Jenny?’
‘A dark blue suit. A pink shirt with a white collar. A dark blue tie.’
‘And what happened then, Jenny? Did you let him into the house?’
Jenny said nothing.
‘Jenny, can you hear me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Marcus is there, standing at the door, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good, now I want you to let him in the house. Can you do that?’
Jenny said nothing.
‘Jenny? Can you hear me?’
There was no response. Barbara looked over at Nightingale and shrugged. Nightingale made a circling movement with his hand. ‘Move her forward,’ he mouthed.
Barbara nodded and turned back to Jenny. ‘Jenny, I want you to go forward an hour, it’s now nine o’clock. Can you do that?’
‘Yes,’ said Jenny.
‘Where are you?’
‘I’m showering.’
‘You’re in the shower?’
‘Yes.’
‘And where is Uncle Marcus?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Okay, Jenny. I want you to finish showering. What do you do then?’
‘I go downstairs.’
‘Is Uncle Marcus there?’
‘No.’
Barbara looked over at Nightingale. He made another circular motion with his hand and mouthed, ‘Take her back.’
‘Jenny, I want you to go back to eight o’clock. Can you do that for me?’
‘Yes,’ said Jenny.
‘Look at your watch, Jenny. Tell me what time you see.’
‘Eight o’clock.’
‘That’s good. Now I want you to wait until you hear the intercom buzz.’
‘Yes,’ said Jenny quietly. She lay on the sofa, breathing softly.
Barbara looked at Nightingale, frowning. He could see that she was worried and he shared her concern. He tried to flash her a reassuring smile but he knew that he wasn’t fooling anyone. Something had happened on Saturday evening and he feared the worst.
‘There he is,’ said Jenny. ‘The intercom is buzzing.’
‘That’s good. Now open the door.’
‘Okay.’
Barbara waited a few seconds. ‘Have you done that? Have you opened the door?’
‘Yes,’ said Jenny.
‘And what do you see, Jenny?’
‘It’s Uncle Marcus.’
‘That’s good. Now tell me what he’s wearing.’
‘A blue suit and a dark blue tie and a pink shirt.’
‘Does he say anything?’
‘No. He’s just smiling.’
‘That’s good. Now let him inside the house.’
Jenny continued to breathe softly but didn’t say anything.
‘Jenny, can you hear me?’
Jenny said nothing but her chest continued to rise and fall slowly.
‘Jenny?’
Nightingale stood up and went over to the sofa. He looked down at Jenny, then put a hand on Barbara’s shoulder. ‘What’s happening?’ he whispered.
‘Nothing,’ said Barbara. ‘That’s the problem. She should be able to tell me what she says and hears but that’s not happening.’ She reached out and stroked Jenny’s hand. ‘Can you hear me, Jenny?’
Jenny didn’t react.
‘How about taking her back to before he arrives, then move her ahead half an hour?’
Barbara nodded. ‘Okay, I can try,’ she said. She took a deep breath, then began to talk in a low hushed voice, her mouth just a few inches from Jenny’s ear. ‘Now, Jenny, I want you to go back to five minutes to eight. Can you do that for me?’
‘Yes,’ said Jenny.
‘That’s good. And now I want you to look at your watch. Can you tell me what time it says?’
‘Five minutes to eight,’ she said.
‘And what are you doing?’
‘I’m in the kitchen. Drinking wine and reading.’
‘What are you reading?’
‘A Jodi Picoult book. The new one.’
‘That’s good. Now listen to me very carefully. It’s five to eight now. I’m going to ask you to move ahead to half past eight. Are you able to do that for me?’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘That’s good. So I want you to do that now. Move forward to half past eight. Do it now.’
Jenny sighed, and then went still.
‘Jenny, can you hear me?’ asked Barbara.
There was no reaction. Barbara looked up at Nightingale. ‘It’s just not working.’
‘Why not? What’s the problem?’
‘I don’t know, Jack. It’s as if that hour just doesn’t exist for her. She can tell us what happens before he arrives, then she’s in the shower afterwards. But there’s nothing in between.’
Nightingale nodded. ‘Okay, move her forward until after he’s gone.’
Barbara turned back to Jenny. ‘Listen to me, Jenny. I need you to move forward to nine o’clock. Can you do that for me?’
There was no response.
‘Jenny, can you hear me?’ Barbara stroked Jenny’s hand. ‘Tell me you can hear me.’ Jenny didn’t respond. ‘Jenny, can you hear me?’ Barbara repeated.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Nightingale, but Barbara ignored him.
She patted the back of Jenny’s hand. ‘Come on, love, I need you to go back. Go back to before he came to the house. Go back to five to eight. Do it now. Come on.’
Nightingale could hear the fear in Barbara’s voice and he knelt down by the side of the sofa. Jenny wasn’t moving and her eyes were closed.