Stop Me (5 page)

‘Where have you been?’

Doctor Mutatkar barely registered his wife’s question as he climbed the stairs. He was sure he answered but not what he said. Whatever it was he wasn’t followed into the bedroom where he knelt on the floor looking at the telephone on the bedside table.

He couldn’t stop it now, even if he wanted to. Even though his first attempt to establish contact had been fruitless he couldn’t back out now. He’d felt such an anticlimax when he’d found nobody at Leo Sharpe’s address. Everything that had been bursting to the surface had to be stowed away again…at least for a little while longer.

He knelt there, still in his coat, for nearly half an hour before he picked up the phone and dialled.

The images changed on the monitors but blackness still filled the office windows. Leo had little memory of the hours before or even after the drive from home. He could feel his head falling back. He closed his eyes and the buzz of the security booth faded as he drifted off. But when his head fell back further than was comfortable, he snapped awake. There was an image on his monitor and he blinked in disbelief at the familiar figure.

It was Laura staring up at him via the camera in the front car park. He’d seen her on the bank of security screens before – glimpses of her just leaving shot or polar impressions of her face that were there as he’d blinked awake. She’d once emerged from the shadows in the warehouse and told him that she wasn’t in pain. The relief had quickly ebbed when he’d found himself in bed. But as he stretched his eyes sideways with his fingers and blinked them rapidly she still stared up at him.

It took a split second more for his brain to re-engage and then he realised it was Ashley, gesturing for him to let her in through the main doors. With the shadows overhead and her hair now a similar length to Laura’s the likeness was unnerving.

He pushed the button and a buzzer sounded as she pulled on the handle. Moments later the door to his booth opened and in she came, bringing in some fresh air.

‘Non-alcoholic bubbly.’ She pulled the bottle out of a
glittery gift bag. ‘Happy birthday,’ she said with mock fatigue to rebut his bewildered expression.

He watched her remove her coat and the booth filled with her anise scent. She was wearing a coordinating grey roll neck and trousers. To Ashley, it was casual wear. ‘My birthday was yesterday.’

‘Nice try.’ She looked round for a place to hang the coat and then threw it on the floor. ‘Eighteenth of Feb?’

‘Yes.’

‘And today is the eighteenth…’

Why had he not considered that Matty had got it wrong? He’d rarely remembered Leo’s birthday in the past. ‘How come you’re out so late?’ he asked.

‘It’s not even ten. Any paper cups?’ She moved behind and then kissed him, her lips brushing his cheek but her hands remaining on his shoulders. She pressed her cheek to the side of his head and held him there for a few moments before the pragmatic air returned. ‘Don’t say we’ll have to share this…’ She picked up his yellow coffee mug from the desk and appeared to be counting the rings inside.

He observed her as she pulled on the stack of water cones from the cooler in the corner of the booth. The same look of quiet determination pursed her lips and through pencilled eyebrows and lip-gloss that Laura never wore he could see the same infectious resolve in her profile.

If she pulls off too many cups, we’ll both see Laura again.

Two cones came away in her long, manicured nails.

Ashley popped the bubbly and poured a mouthful into each cone. They tapped them together in a dull, unspoken toast. It tasted like liver salts and they both grimaced.

Ashley nodded, connoisseur-like, ‘Interesting.’

Leo didn’t drink because his father had done more than enough for him and his brother put together. He’d road-tested it plenty of times in the past year but had been disappointed with the results. He’d anticipated the loosening and warm embrace of oblivion that he’d heard so much about but it had just made him sick. Ashley had offered to tutor him but he’d already found temazepam. She told him she’d rather get him drunk.

‘Shame your birthday wasn’t yesterday.’

‘Why?’

‘Bonsignore dying like that.’ She deposited the cone in the bin and used the action as an excuse not to meet his eye. ‘Has to be the best present of all.’ But even Ashley couldn’t summon any conviction.

‘I watched it with the Allan-Carlins. They’ve suddenly decided that it’s what they’ve been waiting for.’

Ashley didn’t immediately seize on his comment. ‘Perhaps that’s what we need to believe as well.’ She tried to restrain him with a hazel stare.

Leo wanted to stand, to prove to himself that he
couldn’t be caught unawares. ‘Because he’s dead and we can bury Laura with him?’

‘No, because wherever Laura is the very last thing she’d want would be to see us unhappy.’ She said it evenly.

‘And that’s now your decision as well?’

‘No,’ she sighed. ‘But someone evil is dead and that should be some recompense.’

‘Recompense enough?’

‘Of course not.’ She closed her eyes as if summoning inner reserves. ‘But how many people have gone missing since Laura? Would that be justifiable if we just knew who had taken her? Bonsignore’s confession—’

‘Don’t do this, Ash. Bonsignore said if he was going to be in jail for life it may as well be for something better than strangling his cunt boyfriend.’

Ashley’s plea hardened. ‘According to another inmate. You’re prepared to believe the word of one inmate over another?’

‘You know what the situation was before they leapt on his confession.’

‘It’s not me you have to convince about the convenience of his testimony, Leo. But you’ve got to start convincing yourself that Bonsignore’s death can bring some balance.’

‘It doesn’t.’ Leo felt the sudden, uncustomary volume of his words vibrate in his chest. He hadn’t shouted but their solidity made Ashley blink. He felt a pang because
he knew he was making it harder for her to do what she was asking of him.

‘All we can do is believe what we want, Leo.’

‘Bonsignore?’

‘Bonsignore. Bookwalter…’ She deliberately left the name hanging between them.

‘But I don’t believe Bookwalter.’

‘Then why do you still entertain him?’ Her tone was harsh now. She knew he’d be unable to keep his promise for the umpteenth time.

Leo tried to think of an appropriate answer but the delay was sufficient.

Anger prickled red above her cheekbones. ‘Leo…’ She struggled to keep it in check. ‘For Laura’s sake you can’t go on associating with him.’

‘I know what I’m doing.’

‘Nonsense. You’re vulnerable and that nut job knows it. How can you be so stupid?’ She narrowed her eyes at him and he thought he was about to see the molten lava that Laura had often told him about.

‘I won’t let him manipulate me.’

‘John Bookwalter is nothing but a parasite leeching off your grief. If you continue to give him control you’ll never be able to move on.’

‘Like everyone else is.’ He knew he was deflecting.

Ashley bit her jaw. ‘Nobody’s forgetting Laura but you must promise not to speak to Bookwalter again…for her sake and mine.’

‘All right,’ he said evenly. But he stared at the monitors because he knew Ashley’s expression would be as unconvinced as his reflection.

Later on, Leo was just heading for bed when he noticed the LED light of the answer machine flashing. There were three messages. He pressed the button to listen to them and got two hang-ups before a
business-like
, Indian voice filtered through the speaker.

‘Mr Sharpe…this is Doctor…Mutatkar. I’m eager to speak to you and called at your home earlier this evening. I know where Laura is.’

‘We must talk. Could you meet me tomorrow at 10pm in the Café Nero in Wick Street? It’s only a few minutes from your house. Here is my mobile number.’

Leo wrote down the details and replayed the message. He still couldn’t work out the caller’s first name. It had been a while since he’d had a crank call. He supposed with the Vacation Killer back in the news some of the sickos who’d tracked down his number last year might still get a kick out of rekindling his despair.

He’d been flooded with them when Laura’s name was all over the TV and many had made claims to have sighted her or known her location. Some had even pretended to be her. In desperation he’d agreed to meet two. One of them didn’t show up and the other turned out to be a journalist.

It wasn’t difficult for a person to track down his details. He’d found everything about himself on the internet, his home address, phone number, wedding photographs as well as details of his relationship with Laura that had been exchanged on websites and chatrooms populated by individuals with an obsessive interest in the Vacation Killer.

He listened to the message another four times. It was only an hour or so until the meeting but Leo doubted he could stay awake until then. The indentation of his mattress beckoned.

Having drunk four cups of coffee beforehand, Leo’s latte in Café Nero remained untouched as he sat at a side counter and reminded himself why he hated being in public places. Every woman with her back to him was Laura, every man her kidnapper. He examined every face exposed to him and craned to see those that had their backs to him logic suspended while he projected her onto the most unlikely candidates. Her hair could have grown longer, been restyled, dyed or cut short and she could have gained or lost weight.

It was a torment that he rarely subjected himself to now and he knew that his solitary job had probably prevented him from going insane. However, the sensation of being under surveillance was something he couldn’t shake. He’d certainly been followed during the initial investigation and he was convinced he was
still being monitored. Leo would have felt utterly comfortable with it if he was a hundred per cent sure it was the police. The idea that his agony was being recorded and that this would one day vindicate him was one of his only comforts. The notion that it could be giving pleasure to the person who had begun it, however, was something he fought unsuccessfully to suppress.

He had to believe what Ashley believed, that they’d moved through a weird shutter in their lives but that it was now most definitely behind them. It had changed things irreversibly and made them both question the fabric of what was around them but Ashley was convinced that they had to move on before they were both left stranded. Fifteen months without a trace; Leo knew Ashley had slowly resigned herself to the fact that she would never see Laura again – he couldn’t countenance this however, even though it was slowly eating him alive.

The door of the café swung inward and a rotund Indian man in a heavy blue woollen coat carrying a briefcase emerged through clouds of his own breath. Leo raised himself slightly from his stool to make his presence known but the man headed straight for the counter without looking around. Perhaps it wasn’t him. Leo looked at his watch. 10.47. The man ordered a drink and then dumped himself at one of the lower couches facing the window. His head seemed to sink
lower into his scarf as he sipped at his steaming coffee but he made no sign of interest in the other people around him.

‘Doctor Mutatkar?’ Leo found himself suddenly standing over the man.

The Indian man rolled his eyes up at Leo and shook his head once – quickly and in irritation. Without apologising Leo returned to his perch at the side counter.

He tried to visualise the person who had made the call and imagine where they were at that exact moment. At home, at work, watching him from across the street? Perhaps their prank had been forgotten the moment they’d put the phone down. He’d known what the outcome of the meeting would be but he still had no choice but to come.

It was the accent and the business-like tone of the message that had persuaded him that this one might be something more than a hoax. The ingenuous voice had definitely lacked the theatrical bait of other calls he’d received in the past. Leaving a phone number had also seemed unusually convincing. He was in the business of reading hope into every new and dirty crevice but it never ceased to amaze him how his situation continued to be a source of anonymous amusement for others.

He tried the number that he’d brought with him three times during the wait and got only an answering service. He tried one last time.

If he answers now, he’ll know where Laura is
.

He got the answering service again and decided to leave the coffee house. It was past eleven thirty. He stopped outside trying to catch the eye of anyone either side of the street but the human traffic bustled by in complete ignorance of him.

Doctor Mutatkar shifted in his car seat. There was no way he could have made the meeting. No way he could have shared his information with Leo Sharpe.

His neck had been snapped in the garage before he’d been deposited in the boot of his own car. He’d been driven round for a while, his chauffeur looking for an opening. There were a lot of cars and people around and it wasn’t until they’d crawled to the end of the slip road that Doctor Mutatkar got to sit at the driving wheel for the last time.

His feet were positioned on the pedals and his head pressed back against the seat before the brake was released. The car was pushed back up the hill so it could gain enough momentum and then the engine was started.

As a healthy burst of traffic became visible through the thicket hiding the slip road, Doctor Mutatkar was released and rolled quickly down the hill.

The passenger window exploded first, showering his coat with cubic fragments of glass before the front of the lorry ploughed as far as the clinic pass keys that
he kept in the ashtray. Then the weight and pressure of the lorry’s wheel shattered rib bone and ground jagged spears into lungs and arteries. Mutatkar’s internal organs were pulverised but it still had time to completely flatten the left side of his body before the impact spun the remains of the car and sent it scaling the wired rocks of the embankment. Eventually it came to rest on its side.