Chimera (10 page)

Chapter Eleven

The next day started badly. Kate woke late, after staying up until the early hours trying to cram more knowledge into her head, staring at her notes until they blurred before her. She wasn’t sure it had done much good. She was in too much of a rush to have breakfast before she left the house and had to stop off at a service station to grab a cup of coffee and a greasy sausage roll to tide her over.

The sat nav took her into Charlock, the neighbouring suburb to Arbuthon Green, to the modern brick building housing Outreach, the drug rehabilitation service provider. She was due to meet one of the counsellors, Jason Neville, and made the appointment with a minute to spare. Neville turned out to be a man of around Kate’s age, with very pale blue eyes and the white skin of a natural redhead. His fox-coloured hair was curly and worn long, tied back into a pony tail. He had the warm, approachable demeanour typical to professional counsellors.

Kate sat opposite him in an office so messy it looked as though it had been burgled. Kate had actually never been in a counsellor’s office that was any different; it seemed to go with the job. God knew how they ever found anything. Perhaps there was hidden order amongst the chaos. She turned her eyes from the mountainous piles of paperwork, empty mugs and crumpled food containers on Jason Neville’s desk and focused her attention on what he was saying.

“We see all sorts of people here, Detective Sergeant,” he said, fiddling with one of the folders on his desk. As he did so, a teetering pile of paper crashed to the floor. “Oh, bugger. Sorry.” He began picking them up. Kate bent to help him but he said quickly, “Oh, I’m sorry, these are all confidential. Please don’t bother.”

Kate could have given him the ‘nothing’s confidential in a murder case’, but she didn’t; firstly because they weren’t sure whether this
was
a murder case, and secondly, she didn’t want to antagonise him. She wanted Mr. Neville to open up as much as he was able to.

“So you see all sorts of people?” Kate prompted, once the papers were returned to even more glorious disorder on the man’s desk.

Her eyes fell on a leaflet entitled
Is Your Child a Drug Addict?
In smaller type beneath the flaring headline was a box containing several bullet points. Kate read the first few before she had to bring her gaze back up to Neville’s face.
Possible signs of heroin addiction: constricted (small) pupils, noticeable needle ‘track marks’, hyper-alertness followed by sudden sleepiness…

Jason Neville was already answering. “That’s right. I know there’s the public stereotype of an addict – certainly that of an alcoholic – but that’s the stereotype, not the reality.”

“I’m interested in your clients who are heroin addicts. Would you say they range in type? I know you can’t tell me specifics—” she added quickly as he began to frown, “but it would be really helpful to have some sort of guidance.”

“Right. Well, we’ve got people in addiction therapy here from all walks of life. Housewives, builders, professionals. Doctors.” He hesitated and then added. “Even a police officer.”

Kate was predictably agog. Who was it? Surely not anyone she knew? She filed that thought away for later and merely raised her eyebrows at Neville, who looked at her with a slight touch of defiance, ready to block the questions that he seemed to anticipate coming his way.

When Kate remained silent, he cleared his throat and continued speaking. “We work on a combination of therapies here. We run a methadone clinic, we have several medical treatments that clients can access if we feel it would be appropriate for them. The bulk of our work, though, is psychotherapy.”

“I see. Is it the case that most of your patients are dealing with some kind of life trauma – that they’re self-medicating with drugs to treat that?”

Neville shrugged. “Sometimes. Quite often they’re working through horrendous childhoods, deep-seated emotional abuse, physical abuse, that sort of thing. Or they’re unhappy because of something terrible that’s happened to them in adult life – a bereavement or a bad accident. Quite a few people self-medicate, as you say, with heroin because it’s such an effective pain-killer. Obviously you know that it’s a derivative of morphine, which has a wide-spread legitimate use in our hospitals and surgeries.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that,” Kate said patiently. Briefly, she thought of her mother and how her drinking had blighted Kate’s life from childhood. What was her mother dealing with, what trauma from the past was she fighting? Kate’s oldest brother had died young, almost too early for Kate to have any memory of him; had that been what started her mother on the slippery slope to self-destruction? Was it something other than that, something earlier and never spoken of in her mother’s life? For a moment, Kate wanted nothing more than to run from Jason Neville’s room and drive at full speed to her mother’s house; she wanted to run through the front doorway and fling her arms about her mother. How long had it been since they last talked? Four years? More?

With an effort, Kate brought her attention back to the present and to what Jason Neville was saying. He was fidgeting with a mug this time and Kate prayed that he wouldn’t dislodge another tsunami of paper.

Neville was still speaking. “Of course, once people reach a certain...tipping point, I suppose you’d call it, the problems they’re dealing with are all to do with the drug that they’re consuming. They behave terribly because they’re taking drugs, and then they feel so bad that they have to take more drugs to block out what they’ve done, and so the cycle just perpetuates. Once we manage to get them into therapy we work very hard on breaking that cycle.”

“Yes, I see,” said Kate. “What’s your success rate?”

“Sorry?”

“Do you have a lot of people who relapse?”

“Yes. Oh, sadly, yes, we do. But then we also have a lot of people who conquer their addictions and go on to live very happy and successful lives.”

Kate thought about how to pose the next question. “Would you say that you have clients who might have been clean for years, decades even, and then for one reason or another they go back to using drugs again?”

Jason’s pale blue eyes caught her own. There was a long moment of silence. “Yes,” he said eventually. “That does happen.”

“Why?”

Again he hesitated. “It’s difficult to explain, unless you’ve actually been an addict yourself. There’s some research that suggests that once you’re addicted to something, you’ve permanently altered your brain chemistry, and so if you ever begin using again your use spirals out of control very quickly. Whereas a ‘normal’ person—” he made quotation marks in the air with his fingers, “a normal person can take drugs, even quite regularly, without their use escalating.”

Kate frowned. He hadn’t actually answered her question. “Yes, I see, but why would someone who’s been clean for so long just go back to using drugs again?”

“I don’t know,” Neville said simply. “Life just gets on top of them. Perhaps they go through another traumatic event. Perhaps they forget just how bad their life was when they were using drugs. Or maybe it’s nothing so complicated. Sometimes people just…slip.”

Later, as Kate drove away from the centre, having thanked Jason Neville and made her goodbyes, she found herself thinking of what he had said. What had made Trixie Arlen slip?
Had
she slipped – or was she pushed? Kate reminded herself that they still had to question Jacob Arlen over the bruising on his wife’s arm and made a mental note that she would do that tomorrow. Oh God, no, she couldn’t tomorrow. Tomorrow was when she would take her exams. Kate swallowed. All thoughts of Trixie Arlen fled, replaced by nerve-grinding anxiety. She wasn’t prepared for these exams; she knew she wasn’t. Perhaps I should just postpone taking them, she thought to herself, but knew that it would be months before she might get another chance to re-sit them. Months of no career progression. No, no she would take them tomorrow and do her best. Much as she knew that last-minute cramming could be counter-productive, she resolved to spend the evening studying. It’ll be fine, she told herself, ignoring the uncoiling worm of uneasiness that writhed in her stomach.

Chapter Twelve

“So how did it go?” asked Theo as Kate slid into the chair of the desk opposite him the next afternoon.

Kate closed her eyes briefly. “Don’t ask.”

“That bad, eh?” Theo tried to look sympathetic but succeeded only in looking mischievous. “Should have studied harder then, shouldn’t you?”

“Shut up!” Kate crashed her chair back from the desk. Theo looked shocked and throughout the office, heads turned. Kate quickly walked to the far side of the room, where the coffee machine was, and made herself a drink with shaking hands, keeping her head down.

The sound of footsteps behind her preceded Theo’s quiet apology. “Listen, mate, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wind you up. Exams are stressful, yeah?”

Kate blinked hard. Theo’s apology, on top of the realisation that she really shouldn’t have lost her temper in such a childish way, made her feel even worse. “No, I’m sorry,” she said, turning round and hoping that her eyes weren’t too red. “Sorry. I’m a bit…a bit highly strung, at the moment.”

“No worries,” said Theo, his cheeky grin bursting out afresh. “Let’s have a pint later, yeah? I’m buying.”

Kate never drank pints but she appreciated the offer. She returned the grin and they walked back to their desks together. Kate glanced over at Olbeck’s office; empty. Never mind, she had dinner with him and Jeff to look forward to tonight, although she hoped she wouldn’t have to spend too much time talking about her exams.

They had been as bad as she expected; possibly worse. I’ve definitely failed, she thought to herself, and the brief lifting of spirits which Theo’s kindness provoked flickered and died. She took a gulp of coffee, swallowing past the lump in her throat, and turned her attention to the paperwork littering her desk.

She was halfway through the pile when she came across a copy of Jack Harker’s statement about the robbery he’d been victim to. Kate mentally gave herself a shake. It was a measure of her state of mind that she’d almost forgotten that such a thing had happened at all. She made notes to find out if there had been any developments on that case, and whether any more robberies had been reported.

Kate rubbed her temples, feeling overwhelmed. Since her colleague, Rav, had been shot last summer – thankfully not fatally – the team had been one down, with no replacement for him yet in sight. Kate reminded herself that she had to take that up with Olbeck and Anderton. The extra work occasioned by being short-staffed meant that it was more and more likely mistakes would be made. Look at her and Olbeck, forgetting to ask Arlen about that bruising; it was a rookie error, and unforgiveable in officers of their experience.

Kate sighed and added another thing to the mental list of ‘stuff to do’ she kept in her head –
call Rav
. It had been several weeks since she’d spoken to him and she wanted to know how he was doing. Rav was supposed to be on long-term sick leave, but Kate wondered whether he’d actually ever want to return. It was a shame; he’d been a good officer, as young as he was.

She jumped as Theo flung himself into his chair, making their desks rock. He had the gleeful expression of someone with some serious gossip to imply. “Well, well, well,” he said, taking his time about it. “Now we know why the boss has been so distracted lately.”

“What do you mean?” asked Kate.

“Dear, dear,” said Theo, ignoring her. “I can see why he
has
been distracted. Ooh-wee….”

“What are you talking about?” Kate said it impatiently, but a presentiment of disaster began to filter its way through her. Her heart began to beat a little faster.

Theo finally got to the point. “Anderton’s new bird. She’s in his office right now.
Hawt!
”

Anderton’s new bird.
Kate was very aware of her heartbeat now; it rang in her ears like thunder. Her stomach cramped. “What?” she asked, unable to keep her voice steady, but luckily Theo was too busy making lustful noises to notice.

Kate made a mammoth effort and regained control of her voice. “What are you dribbling on about, Theo?” She already knew but she had to hear it again, just to confirm her worst fears.

Theo grinned. “I told you. Anderton’s new piece of stuff. She’s a lawyer, apparently. Anyway, she’s in his office now.”

Nobody would ever know what it cost Kate to give a disdainful shrug. “That’s nice,” she said in a bored tone, keeping her eyes on the screen. She clenched her teeth so hard her jaw hurt as jealousy consumed her. Okay, so she and Anderton had only slept together, once, years ago, but Kate had never given up hope that it would happen again, despite neither of them making any moves towards one another. And now it was too late. Of course it was. You fool, you fool, she told herself fiercely while the blood pounded in her ears and she stared at her computer screen through a mist of tears, utterly unseeing. Why didn’t you do something about it when you had the chance? He would have wanted to, you know he would have. What stopped you? Now it’s too late. Too late.

She got up abruptly and made her way towards the women’s toilets. Her throat was aching with unshed tears. She prayed that no one would be in there, and for once, her prayer was answered. She pushed the button of the hand-dryer and ducked into a cubicle for a few moments, her sobs lost under the roar of hot air. As soon as the dryer switched off, she choked off her tears, biting the back of her hand in an effort to bring herself under control. What a fucking awful day this was turning out to be, she thought. She blotted her face with toilet paper and went out to splash her face at the sink. Luckily she didn’t wear much eye-makeup. She made herself stare at the harsh radiance of the overhead strip light in an effort to lessen the redness of her eyes. Then, under control again, she took a deep breath, straightened her back, and left.

She told herself that she would not walk past Anderton’s office. She would not. But somehow she found her feet were taking her in that direction, seemingly under no instruction from her brain, as if they’d been bewitched. The blinds in his office were open, and Kate could not have looked away if there’d been a gun to her head. Anderton and a woman were standing quite close together by his desk, laughing about something. The woman was tall and beautiful, with dark blonde hair pulled back into a professional-looking French twist. She wore a very nicely cut pale grey suit and a crisp white shirt, open low at the neck. Kate’s bewitched feet slowed and then, as Anderton looked up and their eyes met, Kate found that she could actually walk as fast as she wanted to. She marched back to her desk, her face hot and her heart still pounding as if she had run a race.

Somehow she got through the rest of the afternoon. There was so much to do and nothing she actually wanted to do. Doctor Telling had rung and left her a message asking her to call back when she could, but Kate couldn’t quite face doing so, not even for the quiet and soothing tones of the good doctor. I’ll do it tomorrow, she told herself, fighting not to put her head in her hands and weep. I’ll do it tomorrow when I’m feeling a bit better.

Theo, thank God, kept his mouth shut for most of the afternoon. At about three pm, he muttered something about a hotel – Kate didn’t catch the name – and left the office. He hadn’t returned by the time Kate was preparing to leave herself; so much for that pint he’d promised her. She hadn’t seen Olbeck all afternoon either, but at about six thirty pm, he appeared in the doorway, looked around and saw her, raising his hand.

“Ready for dinner?” he asked, coming over.

Kate nodded. “Can I just ask that we don’t mention my exams? At all?”

“Oh dear.” Olbeck looked at her sympathetically. “That bad, eh? Never mind. And no, we won’t mention them again.”

“Thanks.”

“I thought I could give you a lift if you like? Save taking two cars.”

“Fine, whatever,” muttered Kate. She was beginning to feel very tired. It was too much trouble to work out how she was going to get home or how she was going to get to work in the morning. Who cared, anyway?

She was quiet in the car and it took her a while to realise that Olbeck had that strange, suppressed energy about him again. He was fidgeting a little in the driving seat, tapping the foot not on the accelerator, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. Despite her exhaustion, Kate wondered what was wrong with him and then realised, as she should have before, that he probably had something important to tell her. She felt a pang of anxiety – what if it was bad news? Like what, she asked herself, and then hurried the thought away before she could clarify what she meant. He didn’t seem upset, though; the opposite, if anything. Kate opened her mouth to ask him what the matter was and then shut it again. He’ll tell me when he’s ready, she thought, realising that she was too wrung out and emotional to be able to take it in properly anyway.

In that, she was wrong. Once they were inside Olbeck’s house, he ushered her through to the kitchen. Several pans were bubbling on the stove, and there was an open bottle of red wine breathing on the table. Jeff was nowhere to be seen.

Kate looked around for him. “Where’s Jeff?”

Olbeck was almost bouncing up and down on his feet. “He just popped out to get something. He’ll be back soon.” He opened a drawer, stared blindly into it and pushed it shut again. “I should wait for him to be here before I tell you.”

Here we go. “Tell me what?” asked Kate, trying to sound enthusiastic.

Olbeck was silent for a moment. “Oh bugger it, I can’t wait,” he said, grinning. “I’ve been keeping this in for so long that I think I’ll burst if I don’t tell you sooner or later. We’re getting married.”

Married. Olbeck was getting married. Although she felt as though she’d been kicked in the stomach, Kate managed to stretch her lips into a desperate smile.

“That’s great—” she began, but Olbeck was still speaking. 

“And that’s not the best thing. We’ve been talking about it and we’re pretty sure we’re going to look into seeing if we can adopt as well!” he said, clasping his hands together in front of his chest.

The room stilled for a moment. Kate felt the smile freeze on her face as that word echoed around her head.
Adopt. We’re going to adopt
. There was a moment of sparkling numbness.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” The words came out in a shriek. Kate could feel her face stretched in a grimace. She was trembling from head to foot.

Olbeck looked at her, his jaw sagging. In a dim and distant part of her mind, she could recognise the hurt that she’d just inflicted beginning to surface on his face, but that was locked away where she couldn’t get at it, drenched as she was in shock and furious anger.
Adopt
. Olbeck
knew
how she felt about that, he
knew
what she’d been through, and here he was, all happy and excited; never mind that Kate’s heart had just been stamped into a bloody pulp on the floor.

“Kate,” Olbeck said quietly. “I know you don’t mean that.”

“You can’t! You can’t! If you do that I’ll never speak to you again, never, never—” She couldn’t say any more; her words were lost in a flood of sobs.

“Kate—” Olbeck tried to speak but she turned and ran from the kitchen. She pulled frantically at the front door. Olbeck called something from the kitchen but she didn’t stay to hear what it was; she wrenched the front door open and almost fell over Jeff, who was just outside with a wrapped bottle in his arms. She saw the gold top and knew it was champagne. They actually expected her to
celebrate
with them. By this time, she was crying so hard she could barely see.

“Kate!” Jeff exclaimed in horror. “What’s wrong?”

She said nothing but barged her way past him. He gave a shout of surprise and dropped the bottle of champagne. It hit the stone flags of the front porch and exploded in a shower of bubbles and glass, and Kate, by this time at the garden gate, was horribly, viciously glad. She ran down the street towards the main road without a backward glance.