Page 84 of D for Dead

‘I don’t want to go down there. It smells funny. Please, I don’t want to do this. I just want to go home.’

‘Where are you, Amy?’

‘I’m on the stairs leading into the basement. There’s a room at the bottom. Something is in there. I don’t want to go down there. Please don’t make me.’

‘What is in the room, Amy?’

‘No. I don’t want to look. Please. I don’t want to.’

She could smell the coppery scent of blood before she got to the room and peered inside. The feeling of dread was overwhelming.

And then she saw

Oh my God! Oh my God!

No!

Instinct had her turning to run back up the stairs. She slammed into a hard body, smelt the stench of stale sweat and urine.

She screamed, and continued to scream, even as the calm voice of Doctor Shinnick spoke to her.

‘You’re in your safe place, Amy. Everything is okay and no one can hurt you. I’m going to bring you back now by counting down from ten to one. Ten, nine, eight… Do you want to remember what happened?’

‘Yes. I have to.’

‘Seven, six, five… Focus on your safe place, Amy. When I get to one you will wake up. Four, three, two, one.’

Amy opened her eyes: she found Sullivan pinning her thrashing arms down as Shinnick looked on concerned.

‘What the hell happened, Amy?’ Sullivan demanded.

‘Give her a moment,’ the doctor urged.

She tried to control her breathing, and failed. Everything was too clear and bright in her head.

It didn’t happen. It couldn’t have happened. She’d have remembered it.

A wave of nausea washed over her. Pulling herself free from Sullivan’s grip, she pushed herself off the chair, crossed the room to the wastepaper basket by Shinnick’s desk, and threw up.

25

He had been unable to watch Amy’s apartment from his usual spot due to the number of cops swarming on the riverbank, so had parked further along the street. It wasn’t ideal as he didn’t have such a clear view, but it still helped him keep tabs on her, and he’d felt his temper rise when he saw her leave the building with the dark-haired cop and they had both got into his Audi.

Although he wore a suit instead of a uniform, he knew he was a cop because he’d noticed the bulge of his holster.

The cop from the balcony who’d had his arms around her.

He glanced down at the picture he had taken, lying on the seat beside him, fighting the urge to pick it up and tear it to shreds.

Calm down. Be smart. You can use this.

He had been tempted to follow them, but knew his time would be better spent here. Slipping the picture into his briefcase he exited the car, locked the door and crossed the road. As he strolled along to the apartment block, he figured anyone passing would assume he was another tenant. He’d entered Amy’s building before with ease. It was all about having confidence and acting like you belonged. People only doubted or questioned you if you acted suspiciously.

One eye on the path leading down to the river and certain no one was paying attention to him, he slipped into the stairwell that led to the garage below her building. He recognised her Beetle parked at the far end of the row: cream in colour and battered with age. She had owned it a long time and it suited her personality. The windshield was clean and there was no trace of the offending word he’d left. The incident had rattled her; he knew because he’d watched from across the street. He only wished he could have enjoyed her reaction when she’d found the other gifts in her mailbox. Knowing she was spooked and aware she was being watched would have to be enough for him.

He opened his briefcase and retrieved the photograph; glancing around casually to ensure he was alone, he slipped it beneath her wiper blade. Satisfied it was secure he took out the lipstick from his pocket, the same tube of red he had used on her car before.

This time he left a different word.