had a nice face, and his eyes reminded me of my dad’s; how they seemed to be smiling even when he was being serious. He was kind, I thought. Kind to keep visiting me.
‘What do you mean?’
He was sitting on a bench and the wheelchair was parked right next to it, so he could reach across and take hold of my hand, which was in my lap. His hand was warm, his grip firm.
‘What if he was pretending to help you? What if he was pretending to be an angel?’
The answer came automatically. ‘I don’t know anything.’
He tried again. ‘Do you know where you are, right now?’
I looked around at the buildings surrounding the patch of green. ‘It’s a hospital,’ I said. ‘I think it’s a hospital.’
‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘You’re here because you were at home on your own and it looked as if you hadn’t eaten any food or drunk any water for four days.’
I could hear the words he was saying but they didn’t make any sense. I hadn’t felt thirsty, or hungry. I had just wanted to sleep. I had wanted it all to go away, to be left alone. But it was different now, wasn’t it? The sun was shining on me.
‘They said you were trying to starve yourself to death.’
I shook my head. ‘No, that’s not right.’
‘I said the same thing to them. I said you were busy with the investigation, you had things to do – yes, it had been a rough time for you, with your mum dying, but you didn’t want to die. You weren’t trying to kill yourself, were you?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘I just wanted to go to sleep.’
‘They think you want to kill yourself. That’s why you’re here.’
‘I just wanted to sleep,’ I repeated.
I concentrated hard and suddenly something came back to me.
‘I remember him visiting,’ I said.
‘Who? The man?’
I tutted with annoyance. ‘No, Frosty. I remember him coming here… sitting by the bed. He wanted to know why I hadn’t told him I was depressed.’
‘He’s a kind man, Annabel. He thinks you’ve had such a hard time of it.’
‘I didn’t even realise that was what depression felt like.’
He frowned, leaning forward in his seat and looking at the ground. ‘There’s no shame in it. Lots of people have depression. It’s not easy to talk about.’
I watched him closely, wondering why it hadn’t crossed my mind during those days I was alone that I would never see Sam again.
‘When they discharge you,’ he said, ‘you can come and stay with me, if you like.’
‘No, thanks,’ I said automatically.
‘I don’t think they plan on letting you go home, or at least not for a long time. If you stay at my house they might let you out sooner. We’d love to have you, even if you are grumpy and antagonistic most of the time.’
‘Thanks!’ I said.
‘You’re welcome.’
I smiled, despite myself.
‘My dad’s wife – Irene – she’s a good cook. And she’s a trained carer, so you couldn’t be in safer hands. She’s longing to start feeding you up, you know. She needs a project.’
‘Is that supposed to be tempting?’
‘It was my unsubtle attempt at trying to make you feel comfortable about it. Well, what do you think?’
I didn’t reply at first. I tried to imagine going home and locking the door. It felt as though that was the right thing to do, the right path to choose… but there was something about it that made me feel afraid.
He shifted in his seat again. ‘Do you remember the people who died, Annabel? You were working on all those bodies that were found decomposed in their homes. Do you remember?’
I nodded, although I hadn’t thought about them for a long time.
‘You remember Rachelle? Do you remember Shelley, the woman you found in the house next door? And the two who were found just before they started the investigation? Do you remember that I had a phone call from one of the victims, telling me where to find another one?’
I frowned at these specifics, trying to grip the memory and stop it slipping away.
‘They’re still trying to find the man who’s responsible for all this, Annabel. I think he’s the man you met. I think he did something to you and you were heading the same way as all those other people.’
‘But…’ Why was this such a struggle? Why wasn’t my brain working; why couldn’t I think clearly? ‘But I was… happy.’