‘How are you feeling?’
Tom looked at Louisa, walking alongside him. She had set the pace and didn’t seem to be in any hurry to get back to the wing. She seemed sincere but he still didn’t want to engage her in conversation. He had just tried that and it had got him nowhere. He was aware of how much his most recent spell on the seg block had changed him, tipped him into a different character. He didn’t feel like he was even Tom Killgannon anymore. He felt like he was becoming someone else. Someone harsher, harder. Even crueller, maybe.
‘Are we in session now?’ he said, his words virtually spat at her. ‘Is this therapy?’
She seemed upset by his tone. ‘It’s a genuine question. How are you bearing up?’
Louisa stopped walking, looked round, checking for eavesdroppers. No one was in earshot. They could hear voices, cries echoing down the corridors, but no one nearby.
‘I believe you, Mr Killgannon.’
‘Not Tom anymore?’ He couldn’t take the sneer out of his voice. It seemed to have settled in permanently.
‘I’ll call you Tom if you like. It doesn’t change what I’m saying though. I believe your story.’
Tom looked wary. ‘Why?’
‘Because . . . I shouldn’t be breaking client confidentiality, but someone fitting your description was mentioned to me by another of my patients recently. Your description and background. And how it personally impinged on them and their situation. Then you say all this today and I just put two and two together. Am I right?’
‘If by other patient you mean Dean Foley then yes, you are.’
Louisa fell silent, thinking before speaking. ‘What if . . . bear with me here, what if . . . I were to get you two together. Somewhere neutral like my office, just so you can both talk to each other in a safe space? Have a conversation away from all the other pressures of this place, try and come up with some kind of, I don’t know, way of going forwards for both of you? Would that be worth trying?’
‘What, so he can do the job himself? Kill me, face to face?’
‘The meeting will be properly monitored. He’ll know not to step out of line. He won’t. I’m sure of it.’
‘Oh, you’re sure of it, are you? You know him that well?’
Louisa reddened. ‘Yes, I think I do. I’ve come to understand him quite well.’
Tom laughed. Something harsh escaping from a trap. ‘Really? He’s playing you. That’s what he does. Plays people. Tells them what they want to hear. Until he gets bored of you. And you really wouldn’t want to be around him then.’
‘I think he’s changed since he’s been here.’
Tom held up his arms. ‘I’ve got the scars that say he hasn’t.’
Louisa shook her head. ‘I think it’s worth a try. For him as well as you. I’ve worked with him a lot. I don’t believe he’s the same person he was when he came in. People change. Especially in somewhere like this.’
She looked directly at him as she spoke. He felt the truth in her words.
‘Don’t they?’ she challenged.
Tom didn’t answer.
‘Tom?’
‘How can I trust you? What about the other stuff? Cunningham?’
‘I asked you to do that in good faith. I knew nothing about why you say you are really in here.’
‘ “Say” I was in here. That’s why I am in here.’
‘And I believe you. Honestly I do, but you have to admit, it’s easy for someone like Shelley to reach the conclusion that you’re delusional.’
‘And how does that help me?’ Tom felt anger rise within him. He turned to face her, aware of how much he towered over her, how much more physically powerful he was. How much he could hurt her. ‘The whole point of me being here was to get Cunningham to talk. My outside contact’s been killed and for whatever reason my other contact is denying all knowledge of me. I have to get out. Never mind Foley, what are you going to do to help me?’ Leaning over her, dwarfing her. Hands clenched into fists, ready.
Fear on her face, Louisa shrank away from him, pushed herself into the wall. Her hand went to the pocket of her jeans.
He moved backwards, away from her personal space. Unclenched his fists, averted his eyes from her. ‘Sorry . . . sorry. That’s not me. That’s not me . . .’
Her hand stayed by her pocket. She kept staring at him.
‘I’m sorry. It’s . . .’ He looked up, around, aware once again of just how enclosed he was, how much at the mercy of someone else’s timetable. How his life was no longer his own. ‘It’s this place, it’s . . .’ He looked at her, briefly. ‘Sorry.’ His eyes darted away, didn’t wait for a reply.
She nodded then slowly moved herself away from the wall. Her hand still hovered over her jeans pocket. ‘OK.’
‘It’s just . . . I’m just . . .’ He felt this new persona, the one the prison had forced upon him, the battle-scarred survivalist, crumbling away again. He was reverting to Tom once more. ‘I’ve got to get out of here. I should never have accepted this job. Should never have said yes.’
Louisa made no response.
He looked at her again. ‘You have to believe me. I’m not delusional. I’m not a liar or a fantasist. I know that phone call to Blake made me seem so, but I swear to you I’m not. Please. You have to believe me.’
She didn’t answer straight away. ‘You seem . . . certain. And Dean Foley’s told me things that back up your story, like I said. But why would she deny all knowledge of you? Especially if her partner’s just died?’
‘She must be up to something. And I don’t know what she’s after. But I’m not going to find out in here.’
‘Would Dean Foley know?’
Tom gave the question thought. ‘If he’s in on all this then he might do.’
‘All the more reason for us to arrange that meeting.’
Tom didn’t reply immediately. He weighed up his past, his future. Sighed. ‘Looks like it’s my only choice, doesn’t it?’
Louisa nodded, more from relief than anything else, he thought.
‘I’ll get it set up,’ she said. ‘In the meantime, do you want me to find out about this DC Blake for you?’
Tom looked directly at her once more. There was none of the recent prison savagery in his gaze. Just hurt and honesty. ‘Would you do that?’
She attempted a smile. It didn’t quite come off. ‘I said I believed you, no matter how ridiculous it sounds. I mean, I’m not much of a detective or anything, but let me try and find her. Talk to her.’
‘I would really appreciate that. But be careful.’
‘I will.’
‘Thank you.’ So emotionally fragile was he that he felt tears threatening the corners of his eyes. He quickly blinked them away, refused to acknowledge their existence.
But Louisa caught him. Pretended she hadn’t seen them.
‘OK.’ Her voice was soft. ‘Get yourself sorted. And I’ll take you to your wing.’
Tom tried to harden himself up once more, ready to front it out on the wing.
It took him longer than he thought.