Aah, a noticeable bristle. Now they were getting somewhere. ‘We were very close, almost best friends. There was only two years between us.’
The lack of response or encouragement to carry on was infuriating. Alex decided she needed to give them something in common.
‘After she drowned, my sleeping patterns changed drastically. I’ve never slept for more than three to four hours a night. I’ve been tested, examined, prodded and monitored. For my trouble, I got a nice name for my condition but no cure.’
Truthfully, Alex slept for seven hours solidly every night but the hours parked outside this woman’s house indicated that the detective did not.
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking like this. I’m sure you want to get back to your family.’
The woman beside her shrugged. Still she hadn’t engaged verbally and yet she remained on the bench.
Alex laughed ruefully and toyed nervously with the belt on her jacket. ‘Even psychiatrists sometimes need someone to talk to. Loss changes us all. I’ve learned to fill the long hours of the day productively. I write up notes, research, use the Internet, but sometimes it feels like the night will never end.’
A slight nod. Every reaction, however small, told Alex something.
She noticed a small change in the demeanour of her companion. The body had turned slightly in on itself, like a sandwich left uncovered. It could have been an effort to protect herself against the biting wind, but Alex knew otherwise.
She decided on a no-lose gamble.
‘May I ask who …?’
‘Nice chatting, Doc. See you later.’
Alex watched as the detective strode back to her car, got into the Golf and sped out of the grounds.
She smiled as she removed the stone from her shoe and headed up the hill. The woman’s actions in beating a hasty retreat were as significant as a lengthy conversation. Alex had learned plenty and was beginning to get the measure of her opponent.
Detective Inspector Kim Stone was socially inept. She lacked the manners that if not naturally present could easily be learned, if required. She was driven and intelligent. It was possible she had been sexually abused but she had definitely experienced tragedy and loss. She didn’t enjoy physical contact and didn’t care who knew it.
Alex reached the gravestone she’d been aiming for. She read the simple inscription and made no effort to hide her pleasure.
Solving any puzzle involved methodical, logical stages. First came the eagerness to get started, followed by an understanding of the enormity of the challenge ahead. Next comes the focused concentration required to make headway, the commitment to achieving the end goal.
Finally, the most exciting part: the point at which the next piece you fit will be instrumental in the completion of the entire puzzle.
Alex reread the information engraved gold on red and knew she’d found a key piece of the puzzle.
TWENTY-SIX
The doorbell sounded and Kim didn’t have to ask who was at the door as she undid the chain.
‘The Missus made too much lasagne.’ He shrugged. ‘She insisted.’
Kim smiled. ‘The Missus’ sent round a home-cooked meal every other week and was as charitable in nature as her husband.
Kim remembered some months earlier when Bryant had rescued a Staffordshire bull terrier and her pups from a flat on the notorious Hollytree estate. The puppies had been saved from a life of dog fighting and the mother from constant litters until her ultimate fate as bait in the dog ring.
The Bryant family had reared the pups and found them homes with family and friends, keeping the mother for themselves.
‘So, what do you really want?’ she asked, reaching for a second mug.
‘Well, I’ve been thinking …’
She smacked her brow. ‘Bryant, I’ve told you about dangerous activity.’
He narrowed his gaze. ‘Kim, did you just make a funny?’
She shrugged.
‘I think you need to let the Ruth Willis case go. You seem obsessed with Doctor Thorne and it’s not going to do you any good.’
‘Oh really, well guess who I bumped into today?’ Kim was careful not to say where. For some reason the conversation she’d had earlier with the doctor had replayed itself in her head over and over but she was unsure why.
‘Surprise me.’
‘Doctor Thorne. She asked how Ruth was.’
Bryant shrugged. ‘As you would expect, I suppose.’
‘Hmmm …’
‘What?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘What don’t you know?’
‘She had quite a lot to say.’
‘About Ruth?’
‘Not really, more about herself.’
‘What sort of things?’
‘That her family died, she doesn’t sleep much, she has few friends …’
‘Are you two best mates now?’
‘There’s just something … strange.’
Bryant sniggered. ‘Rich, coming from you.’
‘Okay, forget it.’
‘I’m sorry, go on, strange how?’
Kim was trying to work that one out herself. Maybe if she used Bryant as a sounding board it would make sense to her and then she could forget it.
‘The things she said, the way she said them. Statements about herself that seemed like she was trying to get something from me. Do you know what I mean?’
‘No.’
‘Why would she tell me so much about herself?’
‘Perhaps you caught her at a weak moment and she felt drawn to you.’
Kim could concede that was possible. The conversation had taken place in the cemetery.
‘Yeah, but I got the impression that the chat was for my benefit rather than hers.’
‘Did she ask you any questions, pry into your life?’
‘Not directly, but …’
‘Is it possible that she was feeling vulnerable or that she was simply trying to engage you in a conversation?’
‘I suppose, but …’
‘Look, Kim, people meet and chat. They talk about themselves and then you talk about yourself. It’s called making an acquaintance. Truthfully, dogs have it easier. They simply sniff each other’s …’
‘Enough.’ Okay, she knew she wasn’t good at making friends but she just knew when something didn’t feel right.
‘I’m serious. You might not know this but it’s normally how people get to know each other. They converse. In some rare cases I’ve heard it said that they can eventually become friends.’
Kim dismissed this. ‘There’s something else.’
‘Of course there is.’
‘There’s something about her that’s not quite … real.’
‘How so?’
Kim searched her memory for an example. ‘Did you ever see that program, Faking It?’
‘Where people were given a crash course in something like brain surgery and had to try and fool experts at the end of the show?’
Kim nodded. ‘It’s like that. It’s as though Alex is acting through the emotions. They’re registering on her face but nowhere else. She takes them out one at a time and the pause in between is just blank. It’s weird.’
‘Kim, I say this with respect as you are my boss and I’m the closest thing to a friend you’ve got …’ Bryant paused, seeking permission to continue.
Her lack of response was her answer.
‘ … but I’m not too sure that you’re the best judge of anyone’s demonstration of emotional response.’
Kim wasn’t hurt by his words. Truth didn’t upset her and she had to concede he had a point.
‘Why is the conversation still bothering you?’
Kim thought for a moment. ‘I honestly don’t know.’
‘Just let it go. You’re never going to see her again so it has no impact on your life.’
Bryant’s reassurances hadn’t worked. A niggle remained that she hadn’t yet seen the last of Alexandra Thorne.
TWENTY-SEVEN