Dave’s voices had kept him up all night. The voice of Richie was getting stronger.
‘If I can’t kill your mother, maybe you can,’ it said.
Dave focussed on who he knew he was. He was someone who stopped killers. He wasn’t one himself.
‘The law is there for a reason,’ he repeated to himself.
‘I’ll kill you,’ said the voice.
‘You won’t,’ he argued. ‘You can’t.’
Stephen was a support. Stephen reminded him that he was a good person.
‘But if my mind is saying these things, perhaps I’m not a good person,’ said Dave.
He sat up all night. Now and then, he caught himself and laughed. What would people think to see him sitting here staring into space. People wouldn’t know what was going on in his head. He focussed on it.
‘I am me. I am not my voices,’ he said.
‘Kill your mother,’ said Richie.
It went over and over. He felt like he was stuck. He got up and paced the suite. He didn’t know what he could do to snap out of it. The dawn was coming. He stared out of the window. He could hardly see on the sunrise. There was too much going on in his head.
He turned on the TV and tried to listen to the people talking.
‘Kill your mother. Kill the police. Kill everyone in the hotel,’ said Richie.
Dave could see himself standing with a shotgun. He would go on a murder spree. He would lose his job, lose his freedom.
‘Just because you say something, doesn’t mean I have to do it,’ said Dave.
His mother came through to the lounge area.
‘Have you been up all night?’ she said.
‘Now’s your chance,’ said the voice. ‘Kill her.’
He tried to listen to his mother. He tried to shut out the voices. It didn’t work. They grew stronger then.
His mother handed him a tea.
‘You seem worse,’ she said.
‘Worse?’ he said.
‘Very distracted,’ she said.
‘Bad night,’ he said.
‘I’ll be glad when this man turns up,’ she said. ‘Can’t wait to get home to my own bed.’
Dave sighed. He couldn’t imagine his own bed after what had happened in his house.
‘Take out your gun’ said the voice of Richie. ‘Shoot her. It must be done.’
‘It mustn’t be done,’ he said.
He got up and looked out of the window. He jumped as his phone rang. He picked it up.
‘It’s Shirley,’ she said. ‘I’m on my way over. Let’s go for breakfast.’
‘OK,’ he said.
He went back to looking out of the window. He had to think about what was outside him, not in his head. He counted cars. He counted police officers. He counted people with suitcases. He counted pushchairs. Every time a voice started, he went back to counting.
‘Are you OK there?’ asked his mother.
‘Counting cars,’ he said. ‘Looking for the killer.’
Eventually, he saw Shirley’s car. He smiled. He felt like a voyeur watching her get out of the car and speak to the police outside. As he watched, he saw another car. He saw a man get out of the car. The man wasn’t going about his business like everyone else. He was cautious. He was watching Shirley. He grabbed his phone.
‘I see him. He is outside the hotel. Came out of a blue car. Quick,’ he said.
He went back to the window. The car was driving off. He watched it go left. It was travelling fast.
‘We need helicopters,’ he said on the phone. ‘He went left out the hotel in a blue car.’
He saw the police go into action. He saw them drive off in the direction of the car.
‘He followed Shirley,’ he said.
‘She’d better be careful,’ said his mother.
‘She’s next,’ said the voice of Richie.
‘You need to warn her,’ said the voice of Stephen.
Dave looked out of the window. The helicopter was circling. He could tell they hadn’t found him.
‘I got away didn’t I,’ said the voice of Richie.
Dave punched the wall
‘I don’t need to kill any more,’ said the voice. ‘I’ve got you to do it now.’
‘I never will. I’m stronger than that. I’m stronger than you,’ said Dave.
His mother came over and took his arm. She led him to the sofa and sat him down.
‘This isn’t right,’ she said. ‘You need to call someone. Tell them what’s going on.’
‘I can’t. I can’t tell anyone,’ said Dave.
‘Well I will then,’ she said.
She picked up the phone. Dave pulled it off her. He pushed her back in the chair.
‘No!’ he said.
His mother looked frightened.
‘Don’t hurt me,’ she said.
He sat down.
‘I wouldn’t. I would never hurt you,’ he said.
He had crossed a line there. He nearly hurt his mother. It was only a matter of time until Richie got the better of him.
‘I don’t think you should be here,’ he said.
‘Well I am here,’ said his mother.
‘It’s not safe,’ he said.
‘You need to sort it out,’ said his mother. ‘You can’t go on like this.’
‘Leave me alone,’ he said.
‘Where am I meant to go?’ she said.
They sat in silence. He could feel his mother’s anger intense in the room. His voices continued.
When the door went, he didn’t even hear it. He didn’t notice his mother answer it.
‘Dave, Dave,’ he heard. He looked up.
Shirley clicked her fingers.
‘Oi, wake up,’ she said.
‘Hello,’ he said.
‘You didn’t hear me come in then,’ she said.
‘I was deep in thought,’ he said.
‘Well I haven’t got good news I’m afraid. Are you certain that it was him?’
‘I think so,’ he said.
He wondered if he’d imagined it like he imagined the voices.
‘I don’t know,’ he said.
Shirley looked out of the window.
‘From here it would be hard to tell,’ she said. ‘You were standing at the window?’
‘Yes. I saw you arrive and I saw a car tailing you. A man got out. He looked suspicious. Then he drove off.’
‘If it was him, then we’ve scared him off,’ said Shirley. ‘He won’t come back.’
Dave drifted off. He could see Shirley was still talking but couldn’t focus on her words.
‘Go over to the kettle,’ said Richie.
Dave got up. He walked over. He boiled the kettle.
Shirley was saying something but all he could hear was Richie.
When the kettle boiled, Richie asked him to take it over to Shirley. Dave complied. He didn’t question it. He didn’t have the energy to.
‘Now pour it on her,’ said Richie.
Dave tipped the kettle a little.
‘Dave!’ said Shirley.
He looked at the shock in her eyes. He dropped the kettle.
‘What are you doing?’ she said. ‘You’ll hurt yourself. Where were you going with the kettle?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Dave.
Dave’s mother picked up the kettle. Hot water had made a puddle on the thick carpet.
‘Good job it was only water,’ she said.
‘Hot water!’ said Shirley.
‘I’ll make tea,’ said his mother.
‘We were thinking of going for breakfast,’ said Shirley. ‘Want to come?’
‘I don’t know if I should,’ said his mother.
Dave felt empty. No emotion left in him. He stared straight ahead fighting Richie’s urges for him to kill Shirley.
He forced himself to snap out of it.
‘Are we going for breakfast then?’ he said.
‘Did you not listen to anything we just said?’ said Shirley. ‘What is up with you?’
‘I drifted off. I’m a bit tired,’ he said.
‘We ordered you a full breakfast. We decided to get it sent up to the room. For safety.’
‘Oh good,’ he said.
Dave tried to keep up with the conversation. He repeated what Shirley said over in his head. He forced the voices into submission.
Dave’s mother asked Shirley if she had family close by. Dave repeated it over. Shirley told Dave’s mother about her family. Dave repeated it over.
‘My grandmother is very sick. My parents are keeping me informed but it’s really hard. I can’t visit because I’m so busy with the investigation.’
Dave took a moment to repeat and take it in. Then he sat up straight.
‘Don’t visit whatever you do,’ he said.
‘Oh you’re in the room are you? Why shouldn’t I visit?’
‘He might be following you,’ said Dave.
‘I can take him on,’ said Shirley.
Dave slumped down again. Shirley knew best. He wasn’t in a position to offer advice, not when it was so obvious he had lost the plot. Stephen’s voice warned him that Shirley was next. Richie’s voice asked him to pick up the vase, to throw it over her head. Dave counted his breath in and out. Numbers seemed to help. He counted the victims in his head. He counted the dead bodies he’d seen so far. He felt hopeless.
Dave couldn’t eat his breakfast. He moved the sausage and egg around on the plate. He could chew but swallowing was too much. He washed a piece of bacon down with tea.
‘Lost your appetite?’ said his mother.
Shirley looked at him with a puzzled expression.
‘Just a bit slow today,’ he said.
Shirley got a call to go to the station.
‘They’ve got the psychologist in today,’ she said.
‘For me?’ said Dave.
‘No,’ said Shirley. ‘I think you might need one though. The guy is going to tell us the nature of the killer. As if we don’t know all ready.’
She headed off.
When she left, Dave went to his room and lay on the bed.
‘You are my accomplice,’ said the voice of Richie. ‘You are going to kill all the police officers until everyone you know is dead.’
Dave felt tears start. He curled up in foetal position and cried. He hadn’t cried like this for years. He knew he would lose everything, his job, his life. He had lost his sanity. He was now a schizophrenic and there was nothing he could do to stop the voices, nothing he could do to save himself. His mother called him.
‘David, we need to talk about this,’ she said.
‘Who can help me?’ he said.
‘When I was divorcing your father, I was depressed. I cried every day. I felt like I had no future. I called a helpline. I think you should too. They’re anonymous. No one need know. It’ll get it off your chest.’
Dave got up from the bed. His mother gave him a number. She left him alone to ring.
‘I think I’m schizophrenic,’ he said.
‘Mmm,’ said a woman on the line. ‘Why do you think that?’
‘I’m hearing voices. I have the voice of my brother who died and I have the voice of a killer who is on the loose. It is interfering with my job. I’m a police officer. I need to be putting all my energy into finding the killer and instead I’m talking to him in my head.’
‘What do the voices say?’
‘They say, well,’ Dave looked to see if his mother was gone. ‘The killer voice says I should kill my mother and my partner.’
‘Do you feel like you might harm them?’
‘I hope that I’m strong enough to ignore the voice. I really want it to go away. I want my head back. It’s awful sharing every thought with others. I want to be able to think by myself.’
‘Have you seen your doctor about this?’
‘I can’t. I’m a police officer. I would lose my job. I need to pretend everything is alright so that I can catch the killer.’
‘And you’re sure you are a police officer?’
Dave hung up. Are you sure you’re a police officer!
‘Yes I am sure!’ he shouted.
Perhaps he was deluded. Perhaps he thought he was a police officer when actually he was a deluded nutter.
He went to see his mother.
‘I am a police officer, aren’t I?’ he asked.
‘Yes dear,’ she said.
‘I’m not deluded. No I’m sane in that respect. The killer really is after me,’ he said.
He went to look in the mirror at his bruise. He touched it.
‘This is real,’ he said.
Shirley came back a while later. She brought a man with her in a suit and beard.
‘This is the psychologist. He did a profile on Richard Henders,’ she said.
Dave introduced himself.
‘I see you had a knock to the head,’ said the psychologist.
‘Yes,’ said Dave.
He wasn’t going to tell this man anything.
‘Tell me about Richie Henders,’ said Dave.
‘Well, he is a psychopath. All his medical records show that he has no empathy and that he acts out of revenge. That is why we’re a bit worried about you. His past history shows he doesn’t let things go. He will kill again. He’ll kill soon. You are likely to be in danger.’