The Good Samaritan
Page 37
‘Take care, David,’ she continued.
The phone went dead and I sat rigid in the armchair listening to the rain lashing against the balcony window. I ran my hands through my hair trying to suss out whether Laura, our conversations, what I thought she’d encouraged Charlotte to do – everything, in fact – was actually all in my head. Had a combination of grief, booze and a lack of sleep meant that, first time around, I’d only been hearing what I wanted to hear? Or had she seen straight through Steven and found Ryan?
No, she couldn’t have. It was far more likely that she was testing me to see how genuine I was and how far she could push me.
And who the hell was David?
For the rest of the week, I continued to park close to Laura Morris’s home at various times of the day to watch or follow her. Nothing about surveillance was fun. A heatwave decided to kick in that very week, so to avoid heatstroke I’d either wind down the windows or give myself frequent blasts from the air conditioner. The nearest public toilets had long since closed, so I was forced to empty my bladder in an alleyway instead. My eyes were sore from constantly straining to look at the wing and rear-view mirrors.
When Laura was in view, I’d snap as many pictures as I could of every mundane task. She went nowhere without me following close behind and learning the minute details of her everyday life.
Sometimes, when she was at home, my eyes followed her darkened figure through the tinted windows as she moved from room to room. I could just about make her out through the gaps in her open blinds and in the kitchen, where she’d sit, mostly alone. Once, as evening fell and before she closed the blinds, I stood close to her kitchen window and watched as she spoke to someone out of view. I wondered who else was there that I didn’t know about.
I checked the electoral register, and she shared the space with her husband Tony and three unnamed children under the age of sixteen. I already knew the boy wasn’t there anymore, and another I assumed was the Effie pictured in the newspaper and who I’d found on Facebook. That left one more.
Tony wasn’t hard to find, as Laura had mentioned him in her newspaper interview. He owned an insurance brokerage and was easy to recognise because the name of his business – and his photograph – was plastered across the side of an Audi saloon.
I’d only just pulled up outside his place of work in an industrial estate when I spotted him leaving his office. I trailed him just like I followed his wife, only by car this time, taking photos as we were held at red lights and then from the other side of the street as he made his way into a gym. Then, once he changed into his vest and shorts, I sat in reception pretending to surf the Internet on my phone when I was actually taking pictures through the glass wall of him knocking the hell out of a punch bag.
Next it was Effie’s turn to be the focus of my attention, and by the end of the week I knew exactly how I was going to take away everything that Laura had stolen from me.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
FIVE MONTHS, TWO WEEKS AFTER CHARLOTTE
Laura appeared to recognise my voice instantly.
She sounded relieved I’d called a third time, almost grateful, as if I’d proven something to her.
I hit the record button on my Dictaphone, and once again she began our conversation playing by the book. She hadn’t got away with what she’d been doing by being sloppy. And this time, I’d already rehearsed in my head everything I thought she might ask, so there’d be no more surprises and I wouldn’t need to hang up like I had the first time. I’d even written down some fake background history about Steven to throw into the conversation. She had to believe he was desperate, naive and vulnerable enough to manipulate.
‘If you can’t see yourself getting any better, what’s the best outcome you could hope for?’ she asked some time into our exchange.
I paused as long as I dared for dramatic effect. ‘That one morning I just don’t wake up.’
‘You don’t want to wake up. I understand.’
‘Aren’t you going to ask me what I have to live for?’
‘Would you like me to? Would you listen to me if I came up with some reasons?’
‘No, probably not.’
‘In our first conversation, you mentioned ending your life by standing in front of a train,’ she reminded me.
‘I’ve changed my mind.’
‘What are your thoughts now?’
‘Hanging.’
I’d done a little Internet research and learned it was the most popular way men choose to kill themselves. She wanted to see just how much thought I’d given to it, why I’d chosen it, where it might happen and how I’d do it. I sensed my answers were irritating her.
‘There are a lot of complications involved in . . . your method, if that’s what you choose,’ she snapped, and then quickly gathered herself. ‘But we can work through that another time if it’s the direction you decide to take.’
With that one sentence, I knew I had her. If there’d been even the slightest inkling of doubt in my mind, she’d just erased it.
The balance of power between us had shifted. She’d lapped up everything I’d told her and had stopped trying to help me find the positives in my life. Whatever test she’d spent weeks putting me through, I’d just passed.
‘So you’ll help me?’ I asked.
‘As I’ve explained to you before, it’s not my job to try to talk you out of anything or into my way of thinking. I’m just here to listen.’
‘What if . . .’ My voice trailed off. This wasn’t part of my plan, not yet. My heart was pounding quickly and I debated whether to take the risk and ask her point-blank. My mouth opened, but I hesitated.
‘David?’ she asked. ‘Are you still there?’
‘David?’ I replied.
‘Sorry, I meant Steven. You were saying, “what if ”?’
Fuck it. Just say it. ‘What if you were with me when I did it?’
‘If you need someone to be with you, then I’m happy to listen and keep you company.’
‘I don’t mean on the phone.’
I’d caught her completely off guard. She knew exactly what I meant, yet she wanted me to spell it out for her.
‘What if I asked you to be with me, Laura, here in my house, when I hanged myself ? Would you come?’
There was complete silence before she answered. All either of us heard was the sound of each other’s nervous breaths.
‘I – I . . . don’t think that would be appropriate,’ she stuttered.
I had to think on my feet and justify my offer.
‘I need you here to tell me if I’m messing something up and reassure me it’s all going to be all right. And to be there for me . . . you know . . . at the end.’
‘Are you having second thoughts?’
‘No, of course not. But it’s like, you get me.’ I continued to appeal to her ego by insisting she had been more helpful to me in three conversations than months of counselling. ‘Would you at least think about it?’ I finished.
‘I can’t, Steven. I’m sorry but you’re asking me to do something that’s illegal and completely unethical. I could get into so much trouble.’
‘You’re right and I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,’ I replied. ‘I won’t do it again.’
I was grinning from ear to ear as I ended the call on my terms. My plans for Laura all hinged on her saying yes. Now all I had to do was wait.
The phone went dead and I sat rigid in the armchair listening to the rain lashing against the balcony window. I ran my hands through my hair trying to suss out whether Laura, our conversations, what I thought she’d encouraged Charlotte to do – everything, in fact – was actually all in my head. Had a combination of grief, booze and a lack of sleep meant that, first time around, I’d only been hearing what I wanted to hear? Or had she seen straight through Steven and found Ryan?
No, she couldn’t have. It was far more likely that she was testing me to see how genuine I was and how far she could push me.
And who the hell was David?
For the rest of the week, I continued to park close to Laura Morris’s home at various times of the day to watch or follow her. Nothing about surveillance was fun. A heatwave decided to kick in that very week, so to avoid heatstroke I’d either wind down the windows or give myself frequent blasts from the air conditioner. The nearest public toilets had long since closed, so I was forced to empty my bladder in an alleyway instead. My eyes were sore from constantly straining to look at the wing and rear-view mirrors.
When Laura was in view, I’d snap as many pictures as I could of every mundane task. She went nowhere without me following close behind and learning the minute details of her everyday life.
Sometimes, when she was at home, my eyes followed her darkened figure through the tinted windows as she moved from room to room. I could just about make her out through the gaps in her open blinds and in the kitchen, where she’d sit, mostly alone. Once, as evening fell and before she closed the blinds, I stood close to her kitchen window and watched as she spoke to someone out of view. I wondered who else was there that I didn’t know about.
I checked the electoral register, and she shared the space with her husband Tony and three unnamed children under the age of sixteen. I already knew the boy wasn’t there anymore, and another I assumed was the Effie pictured in the newspaper and who I’d found on Facebook. That left one more.
Tony wasn’t hard to find, as Laura had mentioned him in her newspaper interview. He owned an insurance brokerage and was easy to recognise because the name of his business – and his photograph – was plastered across the side of an Audi saloon.
I’d only just pulled up outside his place of work in an industrial estate when I spotted him leaving his office. I trailed him just like I followed his wife, only by car this time, taking photos as we were held at red lights and then from the other side of the street as he made his way into a gym. Then, once he changed into his vest and shorts, I sat in reception pretending to surf the Internet on my phone when I was actually taking pictures through the glass wall of him knocking the hell out of a punch bag.
Next it was Effie’s turn to be the focus of my attention, and by the end of the week I knew exactly how I was going to take away everything that Laura had stolen from me.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
FIVE MONTHS, TWO WEEKS AFTER CHARLOTTE
Laura appeared to recognise my voice instantly.
She sounded relieved I’d called a third time, almost grateful, as if I’d proven something to her.
I hit the record button on my Dictaphone, and once again she began our conversation playing by the book. She hadn’t got away with what she’d been doing by being sloppy. And this time, I’d already rehearsed in my head everything I thought she might ask, so there’d be no more surprises and I wouldn’t need to hang up like I had the first time. I’d even written down some fake background history about Steven to throw into the conversation. She had to believe he was desperate, naive and vulnerable enough to manipulate.
‘If you can’t see yourself getting any better, what’s the best outcome you could hope for?’ she asked some time into our exchange.
I paused as long as I dared for dramatic effect. ‘That one morning I just don’t wake up.’
‘You don’t want to wake up. I understand.’
‘Aren’t you going to ask me what I have to live for?’
‘Would you like me to? Would you listen to me if I came up with some reasons?’
‘No, probably not.’
‘In our first conversation, you mentioned ending your life by standing in front of a train,’ she reminded me.
‘I’ve changed my mind.’
‘What are your thoughts now?’
‘Hanging.’
I’d done a little Internet research and learned it was the most popular way men choose to kill themselves. She wanted to see just how much thought I’d given to it, why I’d chosen it, where it might happen and how I’d do it. I sensed my answers were irritating her.
‘There are a lot of complications involved in . . . your method, if that’s what you choose,’ she snapped, and then quickly gathered herself. ‘But we can work through that another time if it’s the direction you decide to take.’
With that one sentence, I knew I had her. If there’d been even the slightest inkling of doubt in my mind, she’d just erased it.
The balance of power between us had shifted. She’d lapped up everything I’d told her and had stopped trying to help me find the positives in my life. Whatever test she’d spent weeks putting me through, I’d just passed.
‘So you’ll help me?’ I asked.
‘As I’ve explained to you before, it’s not my job to try to talk you out of anything or into my way of thinking. I’m just here to listen.’
‘What if . . .’ My voice trailed off. This wasn’t part of my plan, not yet. My heart was pounding quickly and I debated whether to take the risk and ask her point-blank. My mouth opened, but I hesitated.
‘David?’ she asked. ‘Are you still there?’
‘David?’ I replied.
‘Sorry, I meant Steven. You were saying, “what if ”?’
Fuck it. Just say it. ‘What if you were with me when I did it?’
‘If you need someone to be with you, then I’m happy to listen and keep you company.’
‘I don’t mean on the phone.’
I’d caught her completely off guard. She knew exactly what I meant, yet she wanted me to spell it out for her.
‘What if I asked you to be with me, Laura, here in my house, when I hanged myself ? Would you come?’
There was complete silence before she answered. All either of us heard was the sound of each other’s nervous breaths.
‘I – I . . . don’t think that would be appropriate,’ she stuttered.
I had to think on my feet and justify my offer.
‘I need you here to tell me if I’m messing something up and reassure me it’s all going to be all right. And to be there for me . . . you know . . . at the end.’
‘Are you having second thoughts?’
‘No, of course not. But it’s like, you get me.’ I continued to appeal to her ego by insisting she had been more helpful to me in three conversations than months of counselling. ‘Would you at least think about it?’ I finished.
‘I can’t, Steven. I’m sorry but you’re asking me to do something that’s illegal and completely unethical. I could get into so much trouble.’
‘You’re right and I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,’ I replied. ‘I won’t do it again.’
I was grinning from ear to ear as I ended the call on my terms. My plans for Laura all hinged on her saying yes. Now all I had to do was wait.
