Bring Me Back (B.A. Paris)(44)

It’s why I’m not letting him off lightly. He must have reached the point where he’s beginning to doubt everything he thought was true and everyone he thought he could trust. Which is exactly what I want.





FORTY

Finn

The doll with the smashed head sends my mind to places it’s never been before. I should have thrown it straight in the bin but, afraid that Ellen might find it, I took it out to my office and put it at the back of my drawer with the others. But its image has burned itself into my brain, taunting me. What is my purpose, it asks, why have I been sent to you? What does my smashed head signify? Who do I represent? The only answers I come up with are dark and terrifying. The doll represents Ellen and whoever sent it – because I’ve gone back to thinking that they might not be from Layla – wishes her harm. Not only that, they are expecting me to do it. The get rid of Ellen message has taken on a whole new meaning. Harry or Ruby – yes, because since Ellen mentioned her, Ruby has crept back onto my list of possible suspects – both know I’m capable of violence. Are they using that knowledge against me? Are they trying to provoke me?

Because sometimes, when Ellen comes and puts her arms around me, when her head is against my shoulder, I find myself wondering what it would be like to move my hands slowly upwards until they reach her neck, and squeeze the life out of her. Sometimes, when she’s asleep next to me, I find myself wondering what it would be like to place my pillow over her face and gently press the life out of her. Sometimes, when we walk along a path with a sheer drop only a few feet away from us, I find myself wondering what it would be like to push her onto the ground below, crushing the life out of her. I can no longer sleep the untroubled sleep of the innocent. Just as I used to have nightmares about having killed Layla, I now have nightmares about killing Ellen.

She hasn’t mentioned phoning Tony again. Since the other night, she’s been giving me space. I enjoy the reprieve, but it doesn’t last long.

‘You look tired,’ she says one morning, after another nightmarish night. She comes over and cups my face with her hands. ‘Maybe we could go away for a few days.’

‘I’d been thinking the same thing,’ I tell her, because suddenly, getting away seems like the best idea in the world.

She searches my face. ‘But first we need to decide what to do about Layla. You said you’d phone Tony.’

‘I will,’ I tell her.

‘If you don’t, I’ll phone him.’ There’s an edge to her voice that I haven’t heard before. ‘It’s making you ill, Finn.’

‘I’m tired, that’s all,’ I say irritably. ‘Anyway, I thought you had doubts about the dolls being from Layla.’

‘I know I said that it could be Ruby but only because I wanted you to be aware that it was possible,’ she says. ‘Ruby is what she is, but she’s not malicious.’ She gives a short laugh. ‘I just wish I knew what Layla wanted.’

Unbidden, the image of the doll with the smashed head comes to mind and I tighten my arms round her. It would be so easy, a voice whispers. All you have to do is move one hand to the back of her head and press it into your chest so that her nose and mouth are covered, and slowly tighten your other arm around her. At one point, when she realises that she can’t breathe, she’ll struggle. But not for long; your height and weight will ensure that it’s over quickly. Then, when the police ask, you’ll lie to them as you lied to them before and tell them that she suddenly collapsed, that she must have had a heart attack.

‘Finn, I can’t breathe.’ Ellen twists her head to the side, freeing it from my grip. She takes a gulp of air, a laugh in her voice. ‘I know you love me but you don’t have to hold me so tightly!’

Shocked, I drop my arms, take a step back. ‘Sorry,’ I mutter, raking a hand through my hair.

‘Will you have a think about where we can go for a few days?’ she says.

I stare at her. Had I really been about to smother her? ‘Yes, of course. I’ll look for something now.’

I go out to my office, my heart pounding. Get a grip, I tell myself, Ellen wasn’t in danger, you weren’t going to do anything.

But there’s a darkness in my mind that won’t go away.

The next day, five days after I received the doll with the smashed head, the office door opens. Expecting it to be Ellen, I fix a smile on my face. But it’s Harry and my smile fades as fast as it came.

‘Hey, don’t look at me like that,’ he reproaches, and I realise he must have seen the mistrust in my eyes. ‘Ellen asked me to come.’

I can’t bring myself to get to my feet and hug him as I usually do. ‘Why?’ I ask.

‘Because she’s worried about you.’ He looks around for something to sit on and pulls out the stool I keep under my desk. ‘What’s up, buddy?’

I have to find out, I have to know if he’s behind the dolls and the emails. I can’t stand not knowing who I can trust.

‘Are you in love with Ellen?’ I say, trying not to sound accusatory.

His eyes widen in surprise and he opens his mouth, about to say something, and I find myself hoping that he’s going to tell me he is, because then, if Ellen loved him back, it would leave me free for Layla. But he closes his mouth and swallows hard and, because I know him well, I know he’s just bitten back an angry retort.