Page 30 of Go Now
CHAPTER ELEVEN
She was the last to arrive in the office on Friday morning.She had a dim memory of Marcus knocking on her door at around 7.30, and of her calling out an excuse.But then she’d drifted off again, for another session of strange, feverish, half-waking nightmares. They really weren’t getting any better; that was a truth she’d tried to ignore, but no longer could. Every night now, she was running through some underground network of tunnels, pursued by something without a face, without a voice, without any physical form.
It depressed her.Still being in this vulnerable state, after all this time, still haunted by the man who’d tried to kill her a decade ago.It was months since Robert Denton had been executed in federal prison, but he still had her in his grip.At night-time, anyway.He stalked her dreams as if the lethal injection hadn’t killed him, only turned him into some sort of night ghoul, snapping silently at her heels.
It embarrassed her, too.She was thirty-six and still had nightmares.Went to stay at her Mom's house because she was afraid of the dark.Stripping the bed every morning because every morning, she woke up sopping wet, drenched with the brackish sweat of pure terror.How could she ever have a relationship with anyone? There was no one on the cards, but there'd been moments, opportunities, encounters she wasn't blind to. That sweet guy at her friend Alicia's Fourth of July party.The cute and bookish cycling fanatic who lived in the adjacent block.And each time, she'd done something to sabotage it before it could take flight, because why bother?Who would spend the night with… that? She was doomed to be alone.Worse than alone.She was stuck in a long-term relationship with a dead serial killer.
And Denton was just a limb, one part of a bigger beast. If Elijah Cox was telling the truth, nothing had ended with Denton's execution or Cox's own imprisonment.There were more, in the shadows, awaiting the call.The thought was too much to bear.And so, for the most part, shedidn’tbear it.She buried it.Didn't give it the oxygen of her thoughts and fears.So what was that?Was she sensibly and practically refusing to let it take over her life, so that she could function as a human being and an agent?Or hiding, avoiding, or ignoring the elephant in the room?
She wondered if she should go back to the shrink.Lay it on the table.I’m not coping.But what would that achieve?More drugs.More time on the couch, raking over ancient history…
She forced a smile – well, not quite a smile, but a general look of capability and composure – onto her face as she neared the office, hearing the voices of Marcus and Chen.They greeted her as she came in.
‘Are you okay, Kate?’Chen looked concerned.
‘Yes, thanks.I didn’t sleep too good,’ Kate said automatically as she sat down.She felt like she should have a badge with that on.It would save her having to say it.
‘That’s the problem with the city that never sleeps,’ Marcus quipped.
Kate rolled her eyes.‘Even from you, Marcus, that’s a cheesy line.’
‘Some fall on stony ground,’ he replied.
‘I took care of a few loose ends whilst you two were out yesterday,’ Chen said, eagerly.‘You want me to update you?’
‘Please.’
‘OK, Vasquez’s agent gave me a list of all the galleries that featured in her tour last year.It was six over six weeks; seems only two reported any kind of protest or disturbance.I’ll be checking those out later today.But bear in mind this was last summer, so they’re unlikely to have hung onto any footage.’
‘Thanks.Anything else?’
'Robyn Cope. He was the artist who failed to make the shortlist for the Plessy Prize and subsequently issued threats against Ashworth and Vasquez.He's been in a residential rehab in New Mexico since the start of this month, so he's safely off the list.Meanwhile, the other artists who submitted work for the prize, whether shortlisted or not, are all in the clear.No threats, no reports of being followed, watched, etc.'
‘Lucky Robyn.’
'Next up, forensics confirm that the same type of rocks were scattered at both crime scenes, and the PM concludes a 99 percent chance that the same object was deployed as the murder weapon at both sites. Also that BTC was used to paralyze the victim prior to the fatal blow or blows.'
‘So what exactly are those rocks?’Kate asked.
‘A cryptocrystalline quartz; what you and I would call flint, found in areas with a high concentration of chalk or limestone.Hard, maybe even impossible to give us a point of origin, because there were no traces of soil or pollen on any of the items recovered from either crime scene.The killer must have carefully scrubbed them.And on their own, chalk and limestone deposits are found literally all over the entirety of North America.’
‘Any word from forensics?’Kate asked.
Chen shook her head.‘No, but I did discover that a large quantity of BHC and all sorts of other goodies was boosted from a pharma-supply hub in Jersey a couple of years ago.And it’s easily available on the Dark Web, which limits our chances of tracing the purchaser or suppliers.I’m happy to keep up the pressure on forensics for you,’ she added.She actually looked like she was looking forward to it.
With Chen set to do battle with the intransigent forensics team, Kate turned her attention to emails.She’d expected Dr Morrison to be true to her word, and have forwarded the correspondence she’d had with Elena Vasquez.Sure enough, an email from the art historian was sitting unread in her In-Box, but when she opened it, it wasn’t what she’d anticipated.
She dialled Morrison’s cell, expecting to leave a message.Instead, Morrison answered, sounding out of breath, somewhere noisy, with an announcer saying something over a tannoy.
‘I’m sorry to trouble you,’ Kate said.‘Are you on your way somewhere?’
‘Hartford,’ replied Morrison.‘Hold on.’
She must have stepped into a waiting room or a café, as the hubbub disappeared instantly.
‘I think you forwarded the wrong thing to me,’ Kate said.‘It’s thanking you for a comment you made to a blog – something called Caldwell Criticus?’
'Oh God.Him.Sorry.My fault.I was trying to clear my desk late last night.More haste, less speed.Here… I've just forwarded you the right thing now.Let me know if it doesn't appear.And please don't think I echo the sentiments on that site.I was simply correcting one of his many inaccuracies.'
