The Moor (DCI Ryan Mysteries, #11)(69)

However…

“There have been several politicians,” he replied, drawing smiles from the adults in the room. “Have you heard of something called ‘Brexit’?”

Samantha licked her milk moustache, and nodded.

“When you hypnotise me, what if I don’t wake up again?”

“It’s just a state of deep relaxation,” he replied. “You won’t get stuck there; I promise.”

“Okay. What if I say the wrong thing?”

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno, what if I swear or something?” Her eyes slid across to where MacKenzie and Phillips stood beside Ryan, and Gregory realised that a strong bond had already been formed between them if she was worried about disappointing them by repeating bad language.

“There’s no such thing as saying the ‘wrong’ thing, while we’re talking,” he said. “Everybody knows that you wouldn’t normally say a swear word, so you won’t get into trouble if you accidentally say one while you’re half-asleep.”

“So long as you don’t say you’re an Arsenal supporter, there’s nothing you could say that’ll upset us,” Phillips added, with a wink.

“What about if I can’t remember anything else?” she said softly. “I want to help, but what if I can’t?”

“Think of this as the icing on the cake,” Gregory said. “If you can remember anything else, no matter how small, that’s great. If not, it doesn’t matter.”

Samantha nodded.

“I remember more when I hear the radio jingle,” she admitted. “I don’t like to hear it because it brings it all back, but now my mum and dad are both gone, I think I need to hear it again to see if I missed something important.”

Gregory looked into her small face and wondered how one so young could be so strong.

“We’ll be right here, beside you all the time.”

“You promise?”

“Scout’s honour.”

*

The living room curtains had been closed and the side lamp turned on, to create a warm, dimly-lit room that was conducive to relaxation. Gregory set up his smartphone to record the session, as well as an old-fashioned tape recorder as a back-up. When MacKenzie had settled Samantha on the sofa, and herself on the chair, he asked one last question.

“Who’s your favourite character from Harry Potter?” he asked, correctly assuming she had read the books already.

“Um, Dumbledore. Why?”

“Okay. If you feel you need to stop at any time, or if you’re getting worried about something, just say ‘Dumbledore’ and I’ll know. Alright?”

“Alright,” she agreed.

“Then, let’s get started. Samantha, first of all, I want you to close your eyes. Imagine every muscle in your body is relaxing. Concentrate on listening to my voice. First, your eyes, then your mouth and the rest of your face is starting to relax. Feel the tightness draining out of your body, out of your arms, then your hands and each of your fingers.”

He spent considerable time helping Samantha to relax every muscle in her body, his slow, melodic voice circling the room and having a soporific effect on MacKenzie, who almost fell asleep in her chair.

“Imagine you’re floating on a cloud, which takes you to your favourite place in the whole world,” he was saying.

Samantha felt her body grow lax as she listened to his soothing voice, imagining herself bobbing on a cloud and then waking up inside Pegasus’ stall, with his soft, wet nose nudging the top of her head.

“Where are you, Samantha?”

“With Pegasus,” she whispered.

“Is anybody else with you?”

She shook her head.

“It’s just us.”

“Is there a radio nearby, Sam?”

The girl nodded, growing restless as she thought of it.

“Why don’t you listen to the radio while you groom Pegasus?”

“Don’t want to,” she murmured. “It’ll come back.”

“What will?”

“The monster in my memory.”

“What does the monster look like?” Gregory asked.

“Big,” she said. “And red. It has a red body.”

This last part was new information, and MacKenzie frowned, at first thinking of Charlie O’Neill’s red ringmaster’s coat.

“Alright, Sam. You’re back on that cloud. Can you feel it?”

He took the girl back to a safe place, a neutral zone where nothing could hurt her. It was just the beginning and he knew the value of patience.

“Imagine the cloud takes you to your parents’ caravan, Sam. It’s floating there, now…”

“I don’t want to go there,” she said, plaintively, but did not say ‘Dumbledore’.

“We’re only going to stop in there for a minute, then we’ll be on our way, Sam. You can leave at any time.”

“No, no. I can never leave,” she said, brokenly.





CHAPTER 39


At the same moment Samantha stepped through the metaphorical door into her parents’ caravan, Ryan took a call from Tom Faulkner. The sunshine had given way to rain, which fell in a light shower at first, then graduated to heavy raindrops that tumbled from the skies and drenched the people of the North East, who had been spoilt by three consecutive days of sunshine.