Ruth glared at her before leaving the table.

Kim cursed under her breath. The bloody woman was so wrapped up in her own flagellation she wasn’t even open to the suggestion that perhaps there were more people to blame for the crime. She had committed herself to attrition and there would be no budging her.

Kim returned to the car, now knowing what she had previously only suspected: that Alex had been instrumental in manipulating Ruth. What she didn’t know, was why.

Kim wondered if the doctor was playing some kind of sick game of power, seeing how far she could push people, but she didn’t think that was it. She remembered the first time she’d met Alex after Allan’s death and she’d asked if she could visit Ruth. Had that been to cover her tracks or something more? If the aim had simply been to manipulate Ruth, then knowing what Ruth had done would have been triumph enough, but it wasn’t. She had wanted to gauge Ruth after the fact.

No, it wasn’t as straightforward as mind-fucking. Alex wanted to learn something and Kim had to try and figure out exactly what that was. It was going to take a trip into her past to find out.

Kim could not ignore the power that Alex now held in her hands. Having access to the horrors of her past definitely made it an unfair fight. Alex could examine these events openly and not lose her mind. Kim didn’t have that luxury

Alex could use every fact to drag her closer to the darkness and Kim wasn’t even sure how to fight back. What she needed was a better understanding of exactly what she was up against.

She suspected there was only one man who could help her now.

FIFTY-ONE

Bardsley House, four miles east of Chester town centre, was used to house the criminally insane. Open since the late 1800s, it had never offered day trips to the wealthy, a guided tour through the stages of insanity like Bedlam in London. Bardsley House kept its patients private, behind closed doors and away from curious eyes. Externally, it bore no sign of the madness within.

The half-mile gravel drive wound its way through rich, undulating lawns and a 700-acre deer park before ending at an imposing structure that had retained its 17th-century appearance.

As she approached the entrance, Alex decided there were far worse places to be crazy.

The reception area was unlike a normal hospital foyer. Comfortable wing-backed chairs littered the area, with occasional tables scattered throughout. Watercolours of local landscapes dotted the walls and pan pipes sounded gently from a speaker that rested above a CCTV camera.

Alex’s finger was poised above a bell when the door opened and she was met by an overweight woman in her late fifties. A quick assessment told her that the woman had been at the facility for some time. She was dressed in black trousers formed of a cheap polyester mix, with a white T-shirt covered by a plain blue pinafore. Her nails were multicoloured, and bright yellow costume jewellery adorned her wrist and throat. Her short hair was dyed a vivid purple. A simple name badge stated ‘Helen’. No title or position, just Helen.

Alex held out her hand. ‘Hello, my name is …’

‘Doctor Thorne,’ Helen completed with a wide, open smile. The woman was clearly accessible and trusting. Just the kind of person Alex loved.

‘Doctor Price told us you were coming. He asked that we assist you in any way we can.’

Of course he did, Alex thought. Doctor Nathaniel Price was the registrar of the hospital and their ‘friendship’ went back to medical school when Alex had sussed out he was having a homosexual relationship with one of the tutors. His secret had been of little use to her at the time and she wasn’t prone to frivolous malice. There had to be a benefit to her; at the very least, her own entertainment. Back then his secret would have been low impact; news for a week or two, quickly swallowed into the whirlpool of university shallowness. But now it meant more, especially to his wife and three daughters.

Fortunately, Alex hadn’t needed to use the threat. It had been there, travelling along the phone lines. It was enough for him that she knew, and if he was as intuitive as she suspected, he also knew that she’d use it. He was probably still at it secretly. She made a quick mental note to find out. A little extra insurance never hurt.

‘That’s very kind of you, Helen,’ she said, smiling and shaking her hand warmly. Fat, ugly folks always liked attention from the beautiful people.

Helen led her from the foyer along a short corridor and took a left turn into a small orderly office.

‘Please, sit.’

Alex did so. The space was functional and small, with a window overlooking an ornate fountain on the east side of the grounds. The mouth of the dolphin looked as though it hadn’t spouted water in fifty years.

‘I’ve been Care Manager here for twenty-two years, so if there’s anything I can help you with, feel free to ask.’

Alex sat back. ‘I don’t know how much Doctor Price told you.’

‘Just that you had a similar case at the moment and that any insight would be helpful.’

Alex nodded regretfully. ‘Obviously I can’t go into detail, but if you could discuss Patricia Stone with me and if I could meet her briefly, I think it would help me treat my patient more effectively.’

Helen seemed happy to share. ‘Okay, I’ll just talk and if you have any questions feel free to jump in.’

Alex took out a notebook. Helen swigged from a can of Diet Coke; amusing considering the woman’s girth.

‘I assume you know the bare details of Patty’s earlier life. She was placed here in 1987, following the tragedy.

‘She had been diagnosed with schizophrenia years earlier but was responding to drugs and was released during the era of de-institutionalisation.

‘When she was brought into our care she exhibited many of the characteristics of Schizophrenia. She suffered delusions, hallucinations, disorganised speech and catatonic behaviour. She had been socially dysfunctional and the signs had lasted for more than six months. The exclusion of known organic causes had been confirmed.’

‘Can you be more specific on the nature of the delusions and hallucinations?’ Alex asked. This first-year medical lesson was wearing thin.

‘Well, initially she heard voices arguing in her head, completely independent of herself. She was the referee, if you like, the peacemaker. The voices always wanted her to side with one of them. She also suffered with delusional perception. There is a record, before my time, that when a fellow patient pushed the water jug towards her during lunch-time it meant the nursing staff were trying to kill her and she could only protect herself by urinating in the middle of the dining room.

‘Not long after I came here, Patty developed a phobia of windows, fearing that if the window was open her thoughts were being sucked out of her mind.’

‘Has she suffered any violent episodes?’

Helen nodded sadly. It was clear that this woman was extremely fond of Patricia Stone. How very unprofessional to develop such feelings for a patient, Alex mused.

‘Unfortunately, yes. She is not violent by nature but there are times when it is difficult to control her.’

‘Can you tell me about those incidents?’

Helen reached for the file so she could offer detail.

‘In ‘92, she attacked a fellow patient, claiming that the elderly woman was flashing thoughts into her mind and she had to make it stop. In June of 1997, she attacked another patient, claiming that he was projecting feelings into her. A few months later she insisted this same patient was reading her thoughts aloud. Six years ago, she attacked a visitor, claiming that he had gained mental control of her and had made her scratch her knee until it bled. And most recently she floored a young nurse for projecting impulses into her mind.’