D for Dead, page 14
‘Yes.’
‘That’s wise.’ Shinnick smiled sympathetically. ‘I know Jake well. He’s a good cop and will look after you.’
A good cop who’d also had reason to see a therapist, Amy thought, but didn’t say the words out loud. She was curious to know what Sullivan’s deal was, but this wasn’t the time or place to try and find out.
He did make her feel safe. There was no denying that.
Yeah, he makes you feel safe, among other things.
She ignored the taunting voice in her head, trying to keep her face carefully blank. Shinnick had already picked up on her fidgeting. She sure as hell didn’t want him to hone in on her embarrassing little crush on Sullivan.
‘Are you comfortable if we talk a little about your background, Amy?’
No. I’m not comfortable with that at all.
‘Sure, of course,’ she lied.
Shinnick probed her gently about her childhood, her relationship with her parents and how their deaths had affected her. It had to be hard, he sympathised, finding yourself at twenty-two alone.
Amy answered his questions as lightly as she could. Despite his relaxed approach, she just wasn’t comfortable talking about this stuff. It was personal and some of it buried deep where it wouldn’t cause pain. She had worked hard to reach her goals, to build a life for herself, and she had been careful to surround herself with a close circle of friends. Raking over the past wasn’t going to help her, as far as she was concerned. Her parents had been good people and she missed them, as she did her grandparents, but they were all gone now and focusing on the gaping hole they had left was only making her feel shitty.
‘When did your nightmares first start?’ Shinnick asked.
He had this easy conversational way of shifting between topics. It was what made him a good therapist, Amy guessed. Shame she wasn’t good at being a patient.
‘I was fifteen,’ she told him. ‘I was involved in a car accident. The dreams started shortly afterwards.’
‘You were involved in a car accident too?’ Shinnick shifted slightly. Amy watched him make a note in the leather-bound book on his lap.
‘Yeah, guess they run in the family,’ she said, her tone more bitter than she’d intended.
Shinnick didn’t react; he simply waited for her to continue.
‘I wasn’t in a car. I was hit by one. I was in a coma for three days, swelling on the brain. You know how it is.’ She screwed up her nose, trying to make light of the situation. ‘Then I woke up and everything was okay.’
‘I can’t imagine how that feels.’
‘It wasn’t great. Lots of bumps and bruises, but otherwise I was okay.’
‘Except for the nightmares,’ Shinnick said gently.
‘Yeah, except for the nightmares.’
‘How long after the accident did they start up?’
Amy thought back. Fifteen had been a long time ago. Back then she’d had her whole life ahead of her. Had thought her dad would one day get to walk her down the aisle, her mom get to hold grandchildren. How innocent fifteen had been.
‘I dunno. I guess maybe a few weeks, a month later.’
‘Are you comfortable talking about the nightmare? It’s the same dream each time I believe.’
‘Yeah, it is.’ And no I’m not. ‘I guess.’
As she had done with Sullivan the previous night, she talked Shinnick through the dream. The stone steps leading down, the sense of dread as she neared the bottom and the room she entered, where the dream always finished.
Shinnick was nodding slowly, looking thoughtful.
‘And you have no idea where this staircase is or what this dream might mean?’
Amy shrugged. ‘It’s a dream; it’s not real. I used to think it was to do with being in a coma. Maybe the stairs were me finding my way back to consciousness.’
‘Possibly,’ Shinnick agreed, but he didn’t look convinced. ‘You said you were hit by a car. What were the circumstances leading to your accident?’
Amy wrung her hands together, biting into her bottom lip. ‘I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know? Is that a realistic statement?’ Shinnick raised his eyebrows. He had so far been good at masking his reactions, but this time his surprise was evident.
‘I don’t know,’ she repeated, offering him the ghost of a smile. ‘I suffered memory loss with the car accident. I had been staying with friends and we had dinner; I remember lying on my bed reading. After that I woke up in hospital. The doctors said it was temporary amnesia and I would likely remember what had happened within a few days. I never did.’
‘You said you were staying with friends? These were friends of your parents?’
‘Yes. Deanna was my mom’s best friend from high school. Her daughters were the same age as me and if my folks were ever away, I would go stay with them.’
‘Was this in your home town in Montana?’
‘No, they lived here in Oregon. In a town called Melford; it’s an hour or so east of here.’
‘Do they not know what happened leading up to the accident?’
‘No.’ Amy shook her head. ‘Deanna and Pete, that’s her husband, they thought I’d gone to bed. They were as shocked as hell when they got a call from the hospital. That kind of killed my mom’s friendship with them. She never trusted them to look after me again and I haven’t seen them since it happened.’
‘So you were in your bedroom, then you were hit by a car and no one knows how it happened, how you got there?’
‘That’s right.’ Amy shrugged her shoulders. ‘Guess I always figured I was sleepwalking.’
‘Sleepwalking? You’ve done that before?’
‘Well… no. It could’ve happened as a one off, right?’
Shinnick was silent for a long moment as he made further notes. Eventually he looked up.
‘Have you ever considered hypnotherapy?’
Amy’s guard immediately went up. ‘No, and before you ask, I don’t want to.’
‘It’s not as you see on TV,’ Shinnick told her, tone calm despite her heated reaction. ‘You would be in control and conscious the whole time. We would work it in gradually over several sessions and I think it would benefit you.’
‘I’m not interested.’
Flustered, Amy grabbed her purse, got to her feet. She should never have let Sullivan bring her here. This therapy shit was a bad idea. ‘Thank you for agreeing to see me, Doctor Shinnick, but this isn’t going to work.’
Shinnick remained seated.
‘Are you sure you want to leave, Amy? If you walk out of this door you may never discover the cause of your nightmares.’
When she faltered, he continued. ‘I understand you’re apprehensive, nervous even, but don’t you want to know what is causing them? It’s possible your subconscious mind suppressed the trauma because it was too difficult to deal with at the time, but it might be ready to release the repressed memory and you can get back the missing piece of the puzzle before the car accident.’
‘I’m not being hypnotised.’ She looked him squarely in the eye, her tone firm, mind already made up.
‘Of course, it’s entirely up to you. If you do change your mind, and I hope you do, my door will be open.’
Amy gave him a quick smile, relief flooding through her as she opened the door and stepped back out into the waiting area.
Sullivan glanced up from the magazine he’d been flicking through
‘Come on,’ she said tightly. ‘I want to go home.’
Amy was quiet on the drive back to her apartment. Between the look on Shinnick’s face as they’d left and the terse ‘Fine’ he’d received when asking if she was okay, Jake knew well enough to leave her alone.
He had sisters.
Something had rattled her while she’d been in with the doc and he would give her time to process her thoughts before trying to figure out what it was.
He hadn’t told her about the latest developments with David Gavin. After the incident at the beach then the visit to the therapist, she was dealing with enough. Gavin being back in town could wait.
Amy excused herself to her bedroom as soon as they arrived back. Jake left her to it, putting on the coffee pot and settling down on the couch with the papers, when he heard the shower start running. A warm body pressed against his leg and a wet nose against his hand as Huckleberry shoved his head under the paper and whined.
Scratching the collie’s ears he felt a pang of guilt for his own dog. This case had kept him busy and Roxy had been suffering as a result. He’d spent limited time with her over the past week, being there only for the obligatory walks and feeding. He would rectify that tonight and take her for a long walk.
When Amy emerged from the bedroom twenty minutes later, she was wrapped in a bathrobe and towel drying her damp hair. She headed straight into the kitchen.
‘There’s coffee in the pot,’ Jake told her, turning his attention back to the sports pages.
‘I’m fine.’
He heard her rummaging in the refrigerator; a few seconds later there was the sound of a cork popping, and he looked up to see her filling a large glass of wine.
She shot him a defensive look.
‘What? I’m not allowed to have a drink in my own home now?’
Putting the paper down, he nudged Huckleberry to one side. ‘So, are you gonna talk about it?’
When she didn’t answer, instead taking a long sip of her wine, he went to her, noticing for the first time the redness around her eyes. ‘Amy.’
When he touched her arm, she pulled away.
‘I’m fine,’ she repeated for the third time since they’d left Shinnick’s office.
She took her glass, went over to the patio doors, opened them and stepped out on to the balcony.
Jake followed, went to stand beside her where she leant against the wall, looking out over the park.
‘What happened?’ he asked quietly.
‘Nothing happened. We talked. He wanted to hypnotise me. I said no.’
‘Okay.’ Jake knew the doctor wouldn’t have suggested hypnotherapy unless there was good reason. At the moment Amy was hostile to the idea and needed time to calm down, think rationally. ‘So is that what upset you, the thought of being hypnotised?’
‘I’m not upset. I’m fine.’
That damn word again. It was beginning to irritate him.
‘Okay, you’re not upset. But something has pissed you off.’ Her hands tensed around the wine glass.
‘I told you it was a bad idea. I’m not comfortable talking about stuff with people. I don’t like dredging up the past.’ She took another long drink of her wine, set the glass down on the balcony wall. ‘It’s difficult being reminded of what I’ve lost, knowing I can’t get it back. It brought up a few painful memories is all.’
She shrugged, trying to make light of it.
But finally he understood and felt guilty. The family he took for granted that she no longer had. By making her see Shinnick, he had forced her to relive the past.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘It’s fine.’
‘Come here.’ He caught hold of her as she made to walk past him.
‘I have to get ready for work.’
‘I know. Come here.’
Giving into the urge, he pulled her into his arms.
Surprised, her breath hitched and she stiffened, but only for a brief moment before she relaxed into him.
The warm musky scents from her shower filled his senses.
Careful, Sullivan.
The rational part of his brain fought to gain control, knowing he had to stay professional, could not go down this route. He wouldn’t kiss her. He would not let it go that far. But he continued to hold her, convincing himself he was only offering comfort and not doing anything wrong.
In the street below, hidden in the shadows of the trees, a lone figure watched, a ball of anger building in his gut.
Bitch.
He raised the camera, zoomed in the lens.
Click. Click.
She would pay for this. He was going to make sure she paid.
20
It was Saturday night, Alan was out of town at a plastics convention and Rebecca had a hot date with a takeaway pizza, the Tarantino double-bill playing on cable and a six-pack of beer. When did her life become so rock ‘n’ roll?
Showered, hair tied back and dressed in a pair of old sweats, she fed the cats, watered her plants and played through her answerphone messages.
Two from her mother, blabbering on about coming into town, something about wanting help to plan a party; one from Alan telling her he’d arrived in Denver and when he got back they had some stuff they needed to talk about; and one cold-caller trying to sell her life insurance. She hit delete, erased the lot.
Her mother she would deal with in the morning. Why on earth she thought Rebecca would have the first clue about planning parties, she didn’t know. Surely that was more Wendy’s area of expertise. Besides, she sure as hell couldn’t cope with a Sarah Angell mom–daughter chat after a full day in the office. The Storybook Killer, as they had informally named him, was no closer to being caught and they had a growing pool of suspects.
Shawn Randall was no longer a suspect given his airtight alibi for the night of the second murder.
David Gavin was allegedly in town, but they had not yet been able to verify his whereabouts to confirm this. His break-up with Amy had been bitter, but was it enough to make him want to kill?
Nadine Williams and her boyfriend, Troy Cunningham, had provided each other with alibis for the murders and initially been crossed from the list. Following Nadine’s aggressive behaviour towards Amy at the beach house, Jake wanted them looked into further.
Then there were the fan letters. They hoped to have the lab results back in a couple of days. Had the killer written the letters? Had he been obsessed with Amy all this time and building up to the kills?
Popping the tab on a bottle of beer, Rebecca took a long cool sip, savouring the mouthful, and clicked the remote for the TV.
The doorbell rang and she glanced at her watch. The pizza delivery was early. Grabbing her purse, beer bottle still in the other hand, she went to the front door and threw it open, expecting to be hit with the waft of melted cheese and onions.
Instead, her jaw dropped.
‘You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!’
Joel Hickok grinned back at her.
‘You’ve got such a dirty mouth, Angell.’
He pushed his way past her into the house, quick to locate the kitchen.
Rebecca slammed the front door shut, followed behind him.
He already had the refrigerator door open.
‘What are you doing, Hickok?’
‘Getting a beer, what does it look like I’m doing?’
‘You know what I mean. Why are you here, in my house?’
He emerged with a bottle, spent a moment rummaging in her kitchen drawers looking for the opener. Finding it, he popped the tab, took a swig of beer and finally looked at her.
‘You’re not very hospitable, Angell. What’s wrong with an old friend dropping by?’
‘An old friend?’ Rebecca repeated, seething. Six weeks of sex, six years of nothing and that made them old friends? She didn’t think so.
Okay, so the sex had been good, really good, but that was irrelevant.
He grinned, walked over and clinked his bottle against hers. ‘Here’s to old friends.’
Then he was gone, off into the heart of the house, checking out the rest of her pad.
Rebecca followed him, flustered. If it was any other guy she would be in control, calling the shots. Why did Hickok always manage to get the upper hand?
‘Where the hell are you going?’ she demanded, as he made his way into the living room. She found him holding the photo frame that sat on the mantle, the picture of her parents on their ruby wedding anniversary.
‘How is your mom?’ he asked, conversationally.
Sarah Angell had initially been impressed by the young FBI agent who had stayed close to her daughter’s bedside while she recovered from a stab wound in hospital. She wanted Rebecca to meet a nice man, settle down, and he had good credentials.
Her opinion had changed a couple of weeks later when she’d unexpectedly visited Rebecca’s apartment, and walked in on the two of them naked on the couch.
Rebecca’s cheeks flamed even now as she recalled the incident.
She hadn’t been able to look her mom in the eye for months afterwards and Hickok had gone from being referred to as potential boyfriend material to ‘that FBI agent’.
‘She’s fine. I’m sure she would be thrilled to know you’re back in town.’
Hickok grinned, clearly thinking about the same incident.
‘Not our finest moment, eh?’ His eyes wandered over to the couch she had brought with her from the apartment, then back to her face, and his grin widened. ‘Keeping it for old time’s sake?’
Rebecca, mid-sip, nearly choked on her beer. Before she could recover and respond, he’d already moved on and changed the subject.
‘So where’s Adam? You guys live here together, right?’
‘Alan is at a plastics convention in Denver.’ She made a point of pronouncing his name, as she couldn’t be bothered to correct Hickok’s mistake, yet again. It was one she was certain he kept making on purpose. ‘And no, we don’t live together.’
Maybe that’s what he wants to talk about when he gets back: moving in together.
Something was definitely up with Alan. He had been acting really cagily around her recently. Either that or he was still pissed at her about the fight. Maybe he wanted to end things. Rebecca wasn’t sure how she felt about that, so she pushed the thought away.
‘A plastics convention; are you serious? So what is that; a bunch of dorks meeting up to discuss spoons and Tupperware pots?’
‘You’re unbelievable. You walk into my home, you insult my boyfriend. You’ve crossed the line, Hickok.’
‘And there I was thinking my timing was perfect, showing up when you’re at a loose end.’
