Beneath The Skin

“So? I talked to the psychologist who’s an expert on this. She said it probably would be someone who seemed normal. I’m just praying it’s him. If he could just be locked away and my life could start again.” I reached for Zach’s hand. “You know, I was absolutely convinced I was going to die. They tried to protect these other two women and they failed. They were killed. I just keep thinking about dying. About being dead. I’ve been so scared.”

Tears started ru

“You should have asked for help,” he said.

“What would you have done?”

“Something,” he said. “For example, about being dead. Think of before you were born. You were dead for millions and billions of years. You don’t find that frightening, do you?”

“Yes, I do.”

Suddenly there was a presence at my elbow. It was Ly

“There’s a message from DCI Links. He’d like to see you straightaway.”

“What’s happened?”

Ly

“He just said he wants to see you.”

They were so nice to me at the police station. I was whisked straight through and taken into a grander office, set away from all the other desks in the open-plan setting. I was seated in the chair in front of the desk and brought tea and two biscuits on a little saucer and I was told that Links would be along in just a tick. I had managed no more than a couple of sips and a dip of the biscuit into the tea when Links and Cameron came into the room. They both looked serious and formal. Cameron sat on the sofa to one side and Links sat behind the desk. So it was his office.

“They got you tea?” he said.

I held up my cup. There wasn’t really much to be said.

“I wanted to tell you straightaway,” he said. “We’ve interviewed Morris Burnside and we’ve now eliminated him from the inquiry.”

The room seemed to shift around me, leaving me queasy and dazed.

“What?”

“I want to assure you that this is a positive step.”

“But how could you clear him so quickly?”

He had picked up a paper clip from his desk. First he had unwound it so that it was straight. Now he was trying to twist it back into its old shape. I had tried that before. It never works as well again. But as an activity it at least prevented him from having to look me in the face.

“I understand from Dr. Schilling that you have found out that there are two other murders-I mean two murders involved-in this inquiry. Document analysis has shown with complete certainty that the same person was involved in the murders of Zoe Haratounian and Je

“Couldn’t he have got away?”

“No, he couldn’t.”

“How did he react to being questioned?”

“He was a bit shocked, of course. But he was perfectly polite and cooperative. Nice young man.”

“Was he angry?”

“Not at all. Anyway, we didn’t mention you had given us his name.”

I leaned forward and put my teacup on the desk.

“Is it all right if I leave that here?”

“Yes, of course.”

I had nothing left. Everything seemed to have drained out of me. I’d thought I was safe. Now I had to go back out into it again. I couldn’t face it. I was too tired.

“I thought it was all over,” I said numbly.

“You’ll be fine,” Links said, still not looking at me. “The protection will continue.”

I got up and looked around for the door, in a daze.

“You must see it as a positive step. We’ve eliminated one potential suspect. That’s progress.”

I looked around.

“What?” I said.

“One less person to bother about.”

“Only six billion to go,” I said. “Oh, I suppose we can eliminate women as well and children. That’s probably two billion. Minus one.”

Links stood up.

“Stadler will see you out,” he said.

It was a matter of half leading, half carrying me out. On the way he stopped in a quiet stretch of corridor.

“You all right?” he said.

I moaned something.

“I need to see you,” he said.

“What?”

“I’ve been thinking about you all the time. I want to help you, Nadia. I need you and I think that you need me. You need me.”

He touched my arm.

“Uh?” It took me some time to work out what he was doing. I moaned something again and shook him off me. “Don’t touch me,” I said. “Don’t ever touch me again.”

SEVENTEEN

Fear kicked in. I was legless with it; my insides felt molten with it. I crawled into bed and lay staring up at the ceiling, trying not to think, yet trying desperately to think. A few hours of hope and elation, and what now, then? What now, when I was back at the begi

The first thing I did was to ring Zach. His voice when he answered was thick with sleep.

“Zach, it’s me. Nadia. Sorry. But I had to. It wasn’t him after all. It wasn’t Morris. He couldn’t have been the one.”

“Shit,” he said.

“Right. What am I going to do now?” I found I was crying. Tears were dribbling into my mouth, itching against my nose, tracking their way down my neck.

“Are they sure?”

“Yeah, it’s not him.”

“Shit,” he said again. I could tell he was trying to think of something to add that wouldn’t sound so dismaying.

“I’m back at square one, Zach. He’ll get me. I can’t do this. I can’t go on like this. It’s no use.”

“Yes you can, Nadia. You can.”

“No.” I wiped the sleeve of my nightie over my teary, snotty face. My glands ached and my throat hurt. “No, I can’t.”

“Listen to me. You’re brave. I have faith in you.”

He kept saying that: I have faith in you; you’re brave. And I kept crying and snuffling and saying: I’m just me, and: No, I can’t. But somehow the repetitions made me feel a bit better; my protests thi

I obediently toasted some rather stale bread and ate it with a large cup of black coffee. I sat in the kitchen and stared out of the window. People walked past and I thought to myself: It could be him, with the baseball cap and the wide trousers, lips pursed in a whistle I couldn’t hear. Or him with headphones, towing the yappy dog. Or him, with the straggly beard and thi