Persona - A Disturbing Psychological Thriller (43 page)

‘It’s ended, Jen,’ he whispered.

‘But not happily,’ she responded, sadly.

John-Paul looked into her eyes and spoke softly. ‘You and I are still alive.’ He glanced down at his wheelchair. ‘My injuries aren’t permanent. We have a future to spend together-’

‘But can that be
true
, John-Paul?’ she asked him anxiously. ‘Knowing what we know - that he’s still alive?’ Her eyes pleaded desperately with him. She was so worried that he wouldn’t forget.

‘Yes, Jen,’ he said boldly. ‘The situation’s absurd because he’s inhuman, but it’ll work because of that. It’s tragic that your father died, but so did Zen. It’s up to us to keep him dead.’ He moved his face closer to hers. ‘He kept you in this house. You were too afraid to leave the protection your parents offered, even though you’re thirty and with me. He kept us from buying a home together, and drove you to contemplate suicide.’ John-Paul closed his eyes, took a breath, then exhaled steadily and shook his head. ‘Not anymore.’

Jen examined John-Paul’s re-set jaw for a few seconds, then wept. Moments later she whimpered, ‘Can you really just let go?’

He leaned forwards, kissed the top of her head. ‘I already have.’

He’d felt her hope, seen her relief, and heard the excitement in her voice when she’d told him what happened in the woods. He must preserve that hope. He would run with her. She was the priority. She was all that mattered - her welfare, her life. The old John-Paul would have urged her to pass on the information to the police. Knowing Zen’s alias would’ve made it much easier track down the bastard. It was a solid lead, which would have multiplied once enquiries were made. But, thankfully, John-Paul had outgrown that person. Pride was irrelevant, and he’d considered the option for less than a minute. There were no longer any personal issues; personal issues that could backfire anyway. He wasn’t Clint Eastwood – he was in love with Jen; she was all he needed. He looked at her, his eyes swimming with tears.

‘It’s irrelevant, Jen. Revenge isn’t an issue. I just want to be with you. I need nothing else.’

She pressed her lips against his cheek and then kissed his forehead. ‘Oh, John-Paul, thank God I didn’t lose you.’

‘Thank God
you
didn’t-’

She sealed his mouth with her hand before he could finish. ‘I didn’t. I’m here with you now, and I’ll be with you forever.’

John-Paul kissed her tenderly, blinking away tears. ‘You never had to hide anything from me, Jen. I don’t care what you’ve done. We’re meant to be together. I know you thought that was the case with Ben, but now you’re a woman, and you’ve made the right choice.’

Jen wiped tears from her cheeks. ‘I know I have.’

John-Paul smiled. ‘You look so happy, Jen. Happier than I’ve ever seen you.’

‘Oh, John-Paul,’ she said, cupping his face in her hands. ‘You’re such a wonderful person.’

‘Our future begins in Newcastle.’

Jen stood up, took a long look at the lounge, then at the suitcases, and then back at John-Paul. His heart burned when she said, her face alive with joy, ‘Let’s leave the past behind.’

51

Initially, they stayed in a B&B in Padstow. Days later, in early December, they bought a place - a detached house in Looe that Stacey had fallen in love with. It offered everything she’d ever wanted – a glorious conservatory, a beautiful garden set on the hills, and inside it was perfectly decorated and so homely. Its carpets were warm and fluffy, the wallpaper intact, and gorgeous French windows helped flood the place with light. There was ample space for her ornaments, and she’d found homes for each of them as soon as they’d moved in.

Derek bought a place in Plymouth, conscious that his skills would be redundant in small Cornish villages.

Life was wonderful. Sean was the perfect gentleman. He made her feel as if she was the most important, special person in the world.

She knew it could end at any moment. She had buried that heart-churning knowledge as deep as she could.

Sean got home at six o’clock, and then took her out for dinner at an Italian restaurant. He told her that he’d put a deposit on premises in Looe that he’d convert into a gym, so they celebrated together. Back at home, they sank into the sofa and sipped wine while they watched a film. The log fire leant their skin a warm glow and danced around playfully as they kissed.

In bed she looked into his loving eyes, and felt grateful to Will, Karen and Jenny for guiding him to her.

The moon was bright, accentuating her warm, full smile as she lay beneath him…

52

Derek suspected that the barman knew.

The pub in Looe was empty apart from him and Sean, yet the barman spent his spare time polishing clean glasses sitting on the shelves, and wiping down tables near theirs.

Any other barman would read a book, or watch the TV. This barman had not once glanced at the screen. And he didn’t look like a barman. And had Derek seen him somewhere else?

‘Chill out,’ Sean advised him, sensing his suspicion. ‘You’re getting paranoid.’

‘That’s not unwise.’

‘Dave, you can’t live life like this.’

Derek glanced at the barman behind the bar, noted he was looking elsewhere, and then stared icily at Sean. ‘Don’t you ever call me that again, do you understand?’

Sean smiled and drank some of his beer. ‘I understand.’

‘I think this was a mistake,’ Derek said, shakily.

‘That’s just pessimism.’ Sean could see sweat forming beneath Derek’s cap. ‘Relax.’

Derek began to tremble.

‘It’s all in your head,’ Sean added.

Derek pushed himself up from his chair, staring fearfully at the barman. ‘We’re going.’

‘Sit down.’

Derek leaned towards Sean.

‘Sit fucking down,’ Sean ordered him, becoming annoyed.

Derek whispered slowly and clearly, ‘Sean, we’re leaving now.’

‘We’re not going anywhere.’

Derek clenched his fists and grit his teeth. ‘Yesterday, I had an interview at an agency in Plymouth,’ he hissed. ‘The barman was working there. And now he’s working here. We’re going.’

He stood up and then walked off as calmly as he could.

When Sean got to his feet, the barman briskly left the bar and walked up to them. ‘Leaving so soon, gentlemen?’ he said perkily. ‘How about another one on the house before you go?’ He grinned.

Sean punched him in the face, knocking him clean out. When he crashed to the floor, a police radio slipped free from his pocket.

‘We’re
in shit
, Sean,’ Derek whined.

‘Don’t panic.’

Sean walked in front of Derek and headed for the door.

When he opened it, he saw the armed police a fraction of a second before he heard them. So many guns on him. Deafening loudspeakers barking at him. Making no sense.

He reached for the Walther in his back pocket. Felt only his arse. He turned, saw more barrels in his face. A line of armed barmen.

And Derek standing with his hands up, the Walther by his feet.

‘Did you take that out my pocket, you cunt?’ Sean roared.

Derek nodded, tears streaming down his face. ‘I don’t want you shot,’ he cried.

More shouting from police. Swarming in on him. Trying to grab him.

He grabbed an arm, swung it round and the officer crashed into the wall.

More hands. Swinging his fists about. Hearing crunches.

On the floor. Stun gun? Must be.

Immobilised.

Journey over.

53

Sitting cross-legged on the concrete floor, Ryan stared ahead. He could see as far as the corridor outside his cell.

He wondered who occupied the cells next to his. They would have to fulfil his social needs until his trial next week.

‘I knew you’d come.’

Voice of the prisoner in the cell to his right. Shivers bounced along his spine…

Voice of his father.

‘I knew you’d done it, before they interrogated me. Told ’em fuck all.’ Ryan closed his eyes. ‘She ain’t dead,’ Will hissed.

Ryan shook his head. His father hadn’t changed.

‘Dave shot her. I saw the carcass.’

‘Son, you didn’t pull the trigger.’

‘So?’

‘You didn’t load the weapon.’

Ryan smiled. Will was trying to nurture doubt, trying to draw out the worst in him.

‘Dave’s my best mate.’

‘He’s not a like-mind!’ Will snapped.

‘He wouldn’t betray me.’

Then Ryan recalled the revelations Dave had made to Fay about Ryan’s mother and his mines.

‘He helped the pigs!’ Will roared. ‘He took the
fucking
Walther out yer pocket!’

‘Because they would have killed me if I’d used it,’ Ryan calmly responded.

‘She has no wounds,’ Will whispered. ‘You’ve failed,’ he added venomously.

Ryan clenched his fists. ‘I never fail.’

‘She’s alive. The cunts are laughing at you, all of ’em.’

‘You’re talking
shit
.’ Ryan pressed his heels hard against the ground.

‘Paper cases, son.’ Will let the explanation hang in the air for a few seconds. ‘No bullets.’

Could that be true? Ryan wondered. The more he thought about it, the more he felt that it was possible. He’d found it hard to believe that Dave had killed someone.

Had he physically checked the wounds? Had he examined the weapon? No, Dave had kept it from him.

‘Simulated pistol, son - fuck all leaves the barrel.’

Ryan stood up. Was it true? Had Dave tricked him? Dave had said he’d killed Jenny to save him. To die, Zen had only to
believe
that Jenny was dead. Dave could have achieved the same result by faking her death…

‘Why ain’t the pigs found her body?’ Will asked aggressively.

‘Dave hid it.’

‘Why’d they never ask you where she is?’

Ryan rubbed his eyes. ‘I don’t know,’ he whispered.

‘Yes you fucking do,’ Will growled. ‘If they find her dead, who d’you think gets charged?’

Ryan said nothing.

‘You! Would Dave stitch you up with that?’

‘No,’ Ryan said softly.

‘Exactly! And would he do life for you?’

Ryan nodded. ‘Definitely.’

‘Bollocks! She ain’t fucking dead!’

‘She is,’ Ryan said uncertainly, backing against a wall.

‘You’ll see soon enough. She’ll give evidence against you at court.’

Ryan shuddered. ‘She won’t.’ He felt his legs weaken.

‘She ain’t scared no more. You’re banged up, no threat. She’ll be there.’

‘No way,’ Ryan said shakily, sliding onto the ground.

‘And what you gonna do if she is?’

Ryan bowed his head and mumbled, ‘What I set out to.’

‘How? You’re in a cell.’

Ryan barely had the strength to stand. He struggled over to the bars of his cell.

‘It’s back to basics, son. Remember, my blood runs through your veins.’ Will reached through his bars.

Ryan gazed at the blood rings on Will’s wrists.

‘You remember, son?’ Will asked.

Ryan nodded.

‘They’re scars now, they’ll not heal.’

Ryan looked back at the photos of Stacey on his walls. Closed his eyes.

‘I know.’

The End

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