Then Commander Sincere introduced the officer who was going to make a direct appeal to the man responsible for these terrible killings'. The camera moved along to Thorne. He looked a little nervous. Distracted. He wondered how Thorne would perform on camera. He must have done this sort of thing before he was bound to be good at it. The Irishman had been smooth but he guessed that Thorne would bring something else to it. Power, perhaps. Something fuelled by a genuine rage. Of course he would. Thorne was a man after his own heart.
He wasn't disappointed. There was nothing written down no need for notes, Thorne looked straight into the camera and spoke calmly but with precision and strength. He shuffled his chair forward his face only inches from the television screen his mouth open. It was as if Thorne was speaking straight to him.
Which of course he was.
'It's still not too late. You can just stop all of this now. I can't promise anything but if you come forward now if you come forward toda3 then your case is going to be viewed that much more favourably.
'None of us can even begin to guess why you've chosen to do these things. Perhaps you feel that you have no choice. You will get the chance to explain all this if you stop the killing now.
'You know, of course, that we will use any means at our disposal to stop you. Any means at all. I can't guarantee that this will not result in injury of some sort to yourself. Or worse. We do not want to see anybody else hurt and that includes you. You can believe that or not. It's your choice.
'So just stop and think. Right now. Think for a minute. Whatever point you're trying to make, consider it made. Then pick up the phone.
'Let's end this madness. Now. Come forward today and hand yourself over to me… to us, and people will be there to help you.'
Then Thorne leaned in towards the camera, his face filling the screen.
'One way or another, this will all be over soon.'
Rachel had forgiven him almost instantly.
He'd called first thing and had sounded so upset about what he'd done. He knew his behaviour had been unforgivable and wrong. ld completely understand if she wanted to end it.
That was the last thing she wanted to do.
His apology made her feel strangely powerful. It was as if there'd been a sudden shift. He could have just walked away but he hadn't. He'd wanted her forgiveness, and once she'd given it, she sensed that their relationship had moved on to a different footing.
He'd. explained that things at work hadn't been going too well. There were a couple of people he was clashing with and it had all got on top of him. Obviously that didn't excuse what he'd done or anything, but he wanted her to know that he'd been under a lot of stress, that was all. She asked why he hadn't told her. She wanted to share things like that with him. She wanted to share everything with him. She could have helped. He told her that he wanted to share everything with her and that one day soon he would. She felt her mouth go dry. She knew that he was talking about sex.
He'd asked if it had been very bad after he'd stormed out of the comedy club. She told him that the woman comedian had picked on her for a bit but then it had been the interval and she'd sneaked out. They laughed, wondering what the rest of the audience would have been saying about them. He said he'd buy her a new skirt to replace the one that got covered in beer. He told her he'd buy her lots of things.
They'd dallied over saying goodbye, but eventually Rachel said that she really had to go. She told him she'd call him later and that she loved him and they hung up at the same time.
And then she'd carried on getting ready for school. Anne was in a meeting and would be for the next couple of hours. Thorne was not unhappy about it. He'd asked at Reception and now he walked towards the lifts, breathing a sigh of relief. If he had run into her it would have been fine. He'd have handled it and so would she, but it was probably best to leave it a day or two.
He hoped that it would all be over by then. The day before, after the call from Sally Byrne, they hadn't been able to talk about anything. Once an arrest had been made, once the arrest had been made, they would be able to talk about it all. It wouldn't be easy for Anne but he would be there to help her through it.
If she still wanted him.
He'd seen it lots of times with those who'd been close to killers. He remembered how hard it had been for Calvert's mother and father, though that had been very different. It was a kind of death and there would be a proper mourning to be done. Anne would need to grieve for the friend she'd lost. She would be losing him in many ways, and she'd need to grieve for all of them. This was without the guilt she was bound to feel, and the shame at having been his friend in the first place, and the guilt she would feel because of the shame.
In all probability, she would also be the first port of call for his children and would need to comfort them and deal with their feelings. Then she would have the press to deal with. If they couldn't hound a killer, they would hound a killer's friends. None of it was going to be easy. Anne would be looking for someone to blame. It was probably best, then, to avoid confrontation for a while. To stay out of the line of fire. It still might all turn to shit anyway. He'd known plenty of cases, a lot more straightforward than this one, where a result had slipped away from them at the last minute. A fuck-up or, God forbid, a legal technicality was waiting around every corner to bury cocksure detective inspectors. Thorne wasn't counting any chickens. However, he was buoyant enough to be here in the first place, stepping into the lift and wondering exactly how he was going to explain everything. Because it wasn't Anne he had come to see anyway.
Going into Alison's room was a shock. Anne hadn't told him she was back on a ventilator, even though he'd known how susceptible she would always be to infection. The room was noisier again, more cluttered, but the girl at the centre of it still drew his eye and his heart as she had done from the first time he'd seen her. She'd had her hair cut since the last time he'd been here. That was the day he'd brought Bishop's photo in, just before he'd been told about the 'anonymous' accusations and things had spiraled out of control.
Everything was under control again now.
He moved slowly towards the bed, walking past the blackboard, now folded away and lying against the wall covered in a white sheet. Had Alison heard him come in?
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He knew how limited her field of vision was and didn't want to make her jump.
He caught himself. Jump? Silly bastard. He knew so little about what her life was like. What it had become. He'd promised himself he'd look into it and hadn't. He'd heard about people who'd had amputations and could still feel the limbs that had gone. Was it like that for Alison?
Could she still feel or even imagine she was feeling what it was like to jump or run or kick or kiss?
He stopped at the end of the bed where he knew she could see him. Her eyeball skittered back and forth for a few seconds. She blinked.
Hello.
He moved to the side of the bed, reaching for the plastic orange chair and looking around the room, casually, as if he were just another visitor fumbling for a suitable bedside pleasantry. He could see no flowers anywhere. There was nothing to do but begin talking.
'Hello, Alison. I hope you don't mind me just turning up but there are a few things I wanted to explain. Because nobody else has, really, and I think you have a right to know. Dr Coburn will have given you all the medical stuff.., the medical side of things, but I wanted to try and tell you what happened to you. After you left the club that night. Obviously we don't really know how much you remember. Probably nothing.'
He helped himself to a much-needed drink from the water jug on the bedside table. He wondered why there was a water jug when Alison couldn't drink.