Bedlam (25 page)

“Benjamin
Rath was a murderer. A serial killer.”

“The unhappy consequence of an enquiring mind.
He discovered the elixir of contentment but never mastered the recipe.” Jacob smiled slyly. “Too hot or too cold but never just right, which was rather unfortunate for his many wives. He didn’t murder them, Joe. He just failed to wake them up.”

“You’re mad. This is all crazy.
Playing with people’s minds, playing God. The days of the madhouse and lunatic asylum are over. You can’t experiment on real people. You can’t wipe the tape and record over it as if you were scripting a screen play.”

He edged toward Kit. The man was clearly unstable. It was time to put an end to the bizarre performance and get Kit and Nell to safety, but he had no idea how when both were currently held in Jacob’s thrall.

“Erasing bad memories, is that so terrible, Joe? Perhaps you would rather remember? You were there when Bales made sure your parents would never hurt you again, weren’t you? Would you care to share the experience with us all?”

He heard the boy’s howl in the same instant that the shadows moved, and then they were there, in the filthy kitchen on Latimer Street, he and the boy pressed together, the boy, his face hidden in McNeil’s shirt, arms tight around his neck, small
fingers tangled in his hair. So close, they were as one, hearts thudding wildly to a single beat.

Everything was red, as if a filter had been placed before his eyes. Blood dripped, feet kicked, the ever-present thud of boots against wood. His eyes were drawn reluctantly up beyond the table where they both crouched, past the overturned chair and shattered crockery, higher than the door handle that was just out of reach, to the knife that gleamed on the kitchen counter and the bodies that hung from the ceiling. Bulging eyes, blue lips. The man no longer bellowed or punched. The woman no longer screamed abuse. Silence, thick, heavy and malevolent, wrapped around and threatened to choke them. The boy whimpered, and he held him tight and absorbed the horror. And then Bales reached down with blood-stained hands and gathered them up with a smile.

Safe and sound, JoJo.

Safe and sound.

McNeil staggered back onto the chair. His heart pounded. He dropped his head into his hands and dragged in a breath.
Inhale, exhale.
He thought he heard Nell’s soft taunting lilt, but when he raised his eyes to look at her, there was no change to her expression.

He turned back to Jacob. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because, Joe, this is all your fault.”

“No, it’s not. This has gone far enough. You’ve had your games.” McNeil pulled out his phone and punched out Dennis’ number. “It ends here, Jacob … Richardson …whoever the fuck you are. Let a
real
shrink analyse you for a change.”

“Who will you call, Joe? Dennis, the good friend who thinks you’re mad? Mather, the boss who fears you might uncover his secret affairs and corruption?
The magpie Mary Cameron who steals trinkets from crime scenes? Or perhaps the devillian Clarissa with her unrequited revenge? In my time I’ve counselled them all.
Dr. Freidman, what a marvellous doctor you are!
Myself, I’d go with the journalist, if I were you. I favour the theatrical, and frankly the others are an insult to my intelligence.”

McNeil ignored him and struggled to his feet. The phone was ringing. “Dennis, where the
fuck are you?” he muttered when it became clear that Dennis wasn’t going to pick up.

Jacob gave a warning shake of his head. “End the call or you’ll never find out the truth.”

McNeil hesitated. “Your version or mine? Maybe I don’t want to know …”

“Oh, but you do, Joe. It’s burning a hole in your gut, eating away at you. It has been since you brought Nell back from the brink. Admit it. You see, you have the knack, just like me. You could be so good at this if you just gave it a chance.”

The message service clicked on and McNeil listened distractedly as a monotone recorded voice stated that DI Todd was otherwise engaged and gave options to leave a message or call back later, or call the alternative number that McNeil knew was the station, or in case of emergency to dial 999.

He crossed to the window and peered out into the darkness. Outside, the snow had continued unabated, quietly blanketing the world in a pristine white veil. It provided a surreal contrast to the evil in the room and the turmoil in his head.

“Bales initially took you in like a stray puppy. He kept you and nurtured you, and when your parents awoke later from a drunken stupor and realised you were missing, Bales, the water bailiff, supported their heart-breaking story of the little boy tragically lost in the lake. He helped search for your pathetic little body, and all the while you slept warm and safe with the fat little puppies. Afterwards he couldn’t hand you back, even if he’d wanted to, because to all intents and purposes you were dead, so he went back and made sure your parents were dead, too. An eye for an eye. And that, dear, Joe, is how this all began. Once dead - now alive.”

McNeil turned his attention away from the window and the phone. Jacob was right, he did need to know. “And then what?”

“Bales butchered your parents, hung them up like carcasses and sealed their house up after him. Do you know, Joe, they weren’t discovered until two years later?”

McNeil’s mind drifted back to his recent conversation with Clarissa. “The same year that Nell was lost. It was reported in the papers at the time.”

“Imagine that. Two whole years before anyone thought to check on them. What does that tell you about Bedlam, about community or the lack of it? The world is indeed a shocking place. Bales always did have a fancy for the macabre,” continued Jacob. “He became a liability in the end. I couldn’t allow him to keep you. After all, you were just what I was looking for, the perfect subject, a motherless child with horrific memories, just waiting for the slate to be erased. I offered a far happier prospect for you … and Bales was convinced by the sense of it. I’m very convincing when I put my mind to it.” Jacob grinned slyly. “He soon forgot all about you.”

McNeil’s mind began to wander as he calculated his chances of overpowering Jacob. The man was older and, under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have thought twice about restraining him physically. He cast about for a weapon that might offset his current handicap and made a further effort to engage Jacob in conversation. The longer he could keep him talking, the greater the chance that he could pull this back. “So, I was handed over like one of Bale’s puppies?”

“And you were happy here, Joe - for a time at least. You had something about you. Still do. You sense things, don’t you, Joe, and that’s how I knew you’d find your way back … eventually. Of course, for my purposes you were perhaps too clever, too stubborn for your own good. You wouldn’t sleep.”

McNeil still couldn’t sleep but he knew Jacob didn’t mean the natural sleep that comes at the end of an exhausting day. He glanced at Kit, eyes downcast, soft dusty lashes on peachy cheeks, and at Nell, eyes wide open and staring, but her mind elsewhere, lost to the world.

“And sleep is good for you,” continued Jacob. “Wipe the slate clean … and begin again.”

“So, this …” McNeil gestured to the young women, “… this is just an experiment, a mind control game?”

“No,
you
were my experiment. They were yours.”

McNeil shook his head. “You’ve lost me. I don’t understand. I don’t remember any of this … of you.
Just Bales and his puppies, then Mae.”

“Oh, you do remember, Joe. Try a little harder. You wanted a play mate …”

Carousels and candy floss.

Goldfish in plastic bags.

And bobbing red balloons.

A game of tag, laughter and excitement, the boy running ahead, the girl following with clumsy steps, the balloon just out of reach … always. Then small hands clasped tightly, feet slipping in the mud, wet reeds under their feet and ice cold black water over their heads. They couldn’t breathe. The weeds
held them fast. Frantic splashes, silent screams. Hands held tight.

McNeil shuddered. A solitary tear slipped silently down Nell’s cheek.

Don’t let go.

Mustn’t let go.

Hold her tight.

Keep her safe.

Save her!

The voice distorted as they sank deeper.

Mustn’t let go.

Silt at his feet, soft and inviting.
Lightness above and darkness below.

Save her

And then large strong hands pulling him back while small desperate hands pulled her. Together, he and the girl with the red balloon, dragged back to the light … back to life.

Like a babe’s first breath, McNeil inhaled desperately, and in that instant he realised that Jacob was right.

It was his fault.

It had always been his fault.

He had taken Nell.

Chapter Forty

Jacob smiled.

“So you see, Joe, I am not the monster and neither was Bales. Bales plucked you from a life of neglect and abuse. I dragged you and Nell from the depths of the lake, and you were both re-born.
Once dead - now alive, again.

Nell and
JoJo

Sitting in a tree

Nell and JoJo

Meant to be

Nell’s eyes swung silently to meet his. McNeil felt her pain and was devastated at her heartache. He felt the boy’s howl of despair deep inside where it had lain buried for so long.

“I only ever wanted what was best for you, Joe. You wanted her. We kept her, and in time she, too, became an excellent subject. And then you ruined it all by leaving us, by leaving her. Love is a wonderful thing, Joe. Obsession is something else entirely. You shared a beginning. You were meant to share a life. Nell has loved you always, from that very first moment when you took her hand. Yet you chose her sister instead. How could you, Joe?” Jacob’s amusement rippled through his words and cut through McNeil’s shock.

“You’ve kept Nell all this time?” Guilt washed over him. “You used Kit, bringing her here as a child, letting her believe this was all a vision, a product of her grief?”

“Don’t sound so appalled, Joe. I did it for you, so you could have a normal childhood.”

“
Normal?
You have no idea what
normal
is. What did you do, wake them up, get them out of their boxes, down off the shelf like toys, so I could play and you could test out your bizarre experiments?”

“They were interesting subjects - twins. You chose well, Joe. You see, I told you, you had something about you.”

“But that wasn’t the end of it, was it? I got away. I found Mae. I had a life. That must have really screwed with your plans.”

A crying child at the side of the road.

A childless woman with open arms.

His heart jolted, his chest tightened painfully, and for the first time since he’d entered the room, he felt real tears threaten. Mae had saved him. Mae had kept him sane. He wasn’t sure whether he’d ever be sane again. His attention drifted back to Nell.
I’m sorry.

“You were a reluctant guinea pig, Joe. You continually resisted my techniques, drugs and hypnosis. I designed the snake especially for you as a trigger but the charm was ineffective. You were a very stubborn child. So I used the bite of
the tattoo and it worked a little too well. It wiped you clear of everything, and there you were, little JoJo, mind a blank and running scared, looking for a mother who never really existed. As luck, or fate, would have it, you ran straight into the arms of a woman with secrets of her own. And so began your next life.”

McNeil had only good memories of his time with Mae. He didn’t want them tainted but he needed to know, he needed to know everything. “How did you find me again?”

“Mae was cunning, fuelled by her own desire to save a lost little boy and keep him for herself. You see, Joe, everyone wants to save you. It’s a pity you’re so hell bent on self-destruction.”

“Mae was a good woman. I had a good life.”

“You did, Joe, and all the while poor little Nell awaited your return. Fortunately, she was a good sleeper. She had Kit for a while, but then even those visits stopped, and now we know why … when we discovered where you were, who you were with … you and Kit. Dear me, Joe, and you call me a monster. You couldn’t have hurt Nell more if you’d tried. But as far as the experiment was concerned, bravo, Joe, it was an unmitigated success. You connected with Kit as you had with Nell. You may have forgotten the times you all played in the orchard together but deep inside both girls were imprinted. It was just a matter of time, and of course my timely intervention, before you found your way back.”

“I asked how you found me.”

“Mae knew she was dying and she couldn’t meet her maker without confessing her sins. There were a few. Did you know she was a nurse? No, I don’t expect you do. She worked in a maternity hospital, delivering welcome babies to happy mothers. In her spare time, she relieved unhappily pregnant women of their unwanted offspring.”

“Clarissa?” the name whispered from his lips.

The game was almost over, all players poised for the music to stop, only one wrapper left on the parcel.

“She carried the guilt of all those lost souls around with her, and then she found you and her life was changed. She had a chance to make amends. She’d witnessed terrible nightmares where you’d scream of slaughter and dark things. She was a God-fearing woman. She believed you’d been sent to test her faith.
Melodramatic, perhaps." He smiled. “And that was the cruellest irony of all. She made her confession to the Reverend George Robinson Foulkes, who was, of course, beset with dilemma and indecision. He had the devil’s spawn, not only in his midst, but courting his one remaining daughter … And who did he come to for advice?”

“His favourite therapist?”

“And so began our little project, Nell’s and mine, to bring you back to the fold, back to the beginning. I promised her freedom in return for Kit, and she delivered.”

“Huh?”

“Down by the canal with our good friend, Bales. Of course, he didn’t know then who Kit was or who you were. It was only later when you sought him out and he manhandled you out of Minkey’s. He once told me that he never forgot one of his puppies, that he could recognise them anywhere, even fully-grown. And he recognised you, Joe - that terrier tenacity of yours, that dogged determination, the refusal to give up or back down. The minute he touched you, he knew little JoJo was back. He wanted to save you again, Joe, and I couldn’t have that. You belong to me.”

“You had him killed?”

“In a round-a-bout way. The feral pack had already cut their teeth on the vagrants who’d witnessed Kit’s abduction. The tramps would have escaped unscathed if Bales hadn’t sought them out himself, doing your job for you, Joe, trying to help you, but making things worse. Once the pack had a taste for blood, there was no stopping them, until you came along, of course. They would have killed you, too, if it hadn’t been for Nell. You’re connected. You always were. You always will be.”

He shifted his gaze. She was watching him. He caught a glimmer amidst the violet, a sharpening of focus that betrayed her intent, and he felt the coolness of her touch, the splash of tears on his cheek. Jacob might imagine she was under his control. McNeil wasn’t so sure.

“So, what now? he asked. “How do you imagine this will end? You can’t keep us all here and you can’t escape. It’s over. Dennis will soon work out where I am.” He held his phone aloft. “It’s all on here, Jacob. Everything. Every sick detail on Dennis’ answer phone. He’s not as stupid as you seem to think. But just to be sure …” - he smiled and brought the phone to his mouth - “… Gilmour House, Dennis, and don’t forget to bring the troops.” He pocketed the phone and stepped towards Kit. It was time to take control of the situation.

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Doesn’t what?”

“Pick up his messages. I expect he’s delayed down at Bales’ house. That’s where you sent him, didn’t you, to dig in the dirt, to uncover your past, to follow false leads? He’s already been round here once, checking out your story, testing the locks. He has no reason to think this is where you are.”

“Even if he doesn’t show, this is over. I could overpower you now, if need be.”

“Could you?”

McNeil was immediately dropped to his knees as pain lanced through him. He clutched at his belly. Fresh blood coated his hands.

“You forget, Joe. I am the master of this game.”

“Fuck,” McNeil cursed, “what do you want?”

He tried to stand and was felled again, landing heavily, jarring his ribs, tearing at his sutures. His heart thudded wildly, his belly was on fire. He scrabbled impotently for something to hang onto or something to wield, but each time he raised himself up off the floor, Jacob smiled and he was dropped again until he could do nothing else but submit. In his head the boy’s whimper was drowned out by something far more sinister, a whisper that grew louder by the second.
Hear me!
The voice demanded. Nell had risen from her seat.

“I want you to complete the experiment, my life's work.”

“And how do I do that?” muttered McNeil. The shadows were gathering, the audience crowding the space with baited breath. The whisper became a shout that reverberated throughout his prone body. He shut his eyes in an attempt to shut out the images.

“Don’t you know? Haven’t you guessed? It’s time to choose, Joe - Kit or Nell? You can only save one and I sense you have a fancy for both.”

Yin or yang?

Sugar or spice?

Good or bad?

“Which is it to be?”