The journey from the station to Ashworth House, in Winson Green, took no longer than 20 minutes, and that was on a busy Monday, with the roads around Birmingham typically choked with lunchtime traffic. I worked it out that, on a quiet day, or in the evening, it should only take me ten minutes or so, which was a hell of an improvement on the 60 minutes or more it used to take to Forest Hills.
Winson Green was quite a pleasant suburb of Birmingham, fairly close to the city centre. It also possessed a modern shopping precinct – nothing compared to the Bull Ring, of course, but it did have a small number of fashionable shops, restaurants, and even a cinema. Ashworth House, situated about a mile from the centre, was nowhere near as imposing a building as Connie’s previous home; or as threatening. It was a large but old, and somewhat shabby, detached house, situated on the corner of a busy street, quite close to the local shops. It was bordered by a low, crumbling wall, with a rusty iron gate as its entrance. There was no parking at the home so I left my car on the main road, in front of what I took to be Dr Simmons’ car, and pulled down the ‘Police’ sign. I climbed the steps to the entrance, carefully avoiding the cracks in the concrete slabs, and rang the bell.
It didn’t appear to be working, so I gave the door a good thumping until I heard some movement from inside. A middle-aged lady, with a thickening waistline and a cheerful smile, eventually opened the door.
“You must be Angie – right?”
“How do you do,” I said formally.
“Come in, come in. I’m Sheila; I’m what they call the house mother around here.” The words came tumbling out without any pause for breath.
“Has Dr Simmons arrived yet?” I asked politely. I had a job to keep up with her, she moved so quickly.
“He’s just showing Connie her room,” she said, over her shoulder, and heading through a door on the left of the hallway. “Would you like to see it? I’m sure they won’t mind. It’s a nice one, on the first floor overlooking the garden.”
“If you’re sure it’s alright.”
She smiled again, more broadly. “Course it is! Connie’s told me a bit about you. I know you’re close friends. Up the stairs,” she pointed vaguely, “down the landing and it’s the second door on the right.”
Dr Simmons opened the door, shook hands with me and waved me inside. Connie was looking out of the window, obviously pleased, not only with the view but I imagined it also had something to do with having windows without bars, and which actually opened.
“Hi, Angie!” she squealed in delight. “What do you think of it?” she asked, encompassing the room with her arms.
Before I said anything I went across and gave her a big hug. “It’s lovely, Connie.” And it really was. It was more like a studio apartment than a mere bedroom. It was a large room, which had obviously been a principal bedroom in former days. It was made up of a sitting area with easy chairs and a settee, a coffee table in the centre, decorated with a vase of fresh flowers, and in one corner a television and hi-fi equipment. Opposite was the sleeping area, which sported a queen-size bed. A door led off from here into a private bathroom. I noticed also that the room was centrally heated, which was a good thing because I should think it might be a cold house in the winter. I was more pleased than I could have hoped. This was just what Connie needed to help her readjustment. And the view from the window, compared to what she had been used to for the last four years, was inspirational. It overlooked a lawned garden, well maintained, and surrounded by a variety of colourful flowers. It was evident that a great deal of thought and attention had gone into the refurbishment of this old building, with the emphasis on a friendly, secure environment.
“Do you think you’ll be happy here?”
She looked sombre for a moment. “I think so, yes. But more importantly, will I be safe?”
I noticed the puzzled expression on Dr Simmons’ face when he heard this remark.
“You’re not still afraid, are you Connie?” he asked tentatively.
“Yes, Doctor. ‘Course I am. Oh, not crapping myself like last time… Not panicking even, but I’d be stupid not to be scared.”
“Last time?” I queried, puzzled by what she meant. “Are you saying something else has happened, since then?”
Dr Simmons frowned as Connie nodded assent.
“If you’ll excuse me, ladies,” he said hurriedly, “I can see you two have things to discuss, and I do have some paperwork to sort out. I’ll be downstairs in the study, Angie. Sheila will show you where it is, when you’re ready. I’ll wait for you, if you want?”
He left before I had the chance to say anything. Obviously, he had anticipated that Connie was about to divulge another psychic experience – something he very definitely didn’t wish to be involved in.
“What happened, Connie?” I asked, taking a seat on one of the comfortable lounge chairs. “Another vision?”
Again she nodded. “Different this time, though. I saw that man again – or, rather, I think he was seeing me. If you get what I mean?”
“Not really,” I said, slowly. “Can you explain?”
She hesitated, as if she was struggling to find the words. “Well, I think he came looking for me. It wasn’t terribly clear, but he was trying to show me something.”
I shivered. This was becoming a habit whenever I was in this young lady’s presence. “What did he show you, Connie? Can you describe it?”
“There was a field – somewhere in the country – and there was a bundle of child’s clothes, near one of those five-bar gates. They were piled neatly in a corner, with a pair of children’s shoes. At first I didn’t understand what he was trying to tell me – but then he took me across a common; I’ve no idea where – it was dark, and I couldn’t see very clearly. He had the body of a little girl with him; she was slung across his shoulders… and someone had taken all her clothes off. I knew she was dead by the way her head was hanging.”
At this point she stopped. She was trembling again, and the tears began to run down her cheeks. I went over and placed my arm around her shoulders. “It’s alright, Connie. You don’t have to go on if it’s too much for you.”
“No, Angie. I want to tell you…It might make me feel better. Anyway, you’re the only one who understands; you’re the only one who really believes me.” She wiped her eyes with my handkerchief, and then forced a smile. “This is all we seem to do these days, isn’t it? I tell you about my horrible visions and you wipe away my tears. Do you think it will ever end, Angie?”
I sighed. “I really don’t know, sweetheart. But I do think you’re right to tell me; it could make you ill again if you bottle it all up. Do you want to go on? Or shall we leave it for a bit?”
She sniffed and rubbed her eyes. “I’m okay, really. And you have to know the rest of it; I think this part is important. The man took the little girl across this wasteland until he came to some abandoned buildings - old sheds or offices I think. There’s a deep shaft in the ground behind them – I think it’s a disused mine. All I know is it’s very deep, because he threw the body down there and I waited and waited but I never heard it hit the bottom.”
“Oh, no!” I found myself thinking. “I don’t want to hear this.” But I had to, if only for Connie’s sake. “Then what?” I asked.
“He looked straight at me and – I can’t describe it, really, but it was like he could see me; he wanted me to watch because he loved it, making me look at his perversion – like he was making me part of it. He was sneering at me, the whole time – it’s like he was gloating.”
“Perhaps he thinks it gives him power over you. Does he, Connie? Have any power over you?”
“No,” she said, adamantly. “Not any more. At first he did, when he took Josephine from her school and made me watch him. You remember how scared I was then? I was terrified.” (And that was only three days ago, I reminded myself.) “But not any more. Like I told Dr Simmons, I’m still shit-scared, but I think that’s mainly ‘cause I’ve got a feeling he’ll come after me one day. But he he’d got to find me first, hasn’t he? And now I’ve moved it won’t be so easy for him. And anyway, Angie, I want to help you to find him first. You’ve got to – he’s not going to stop now.”
“Have you any idea where this place might be?”
She shook her head. “No. I was affected more by what I was seeing … the little girl he was carrying … and the fact that now could to ‘see’ me. I’m just glad I left Forrest Hills. I feel safer here.”
“Do you think he’s killed before?” I asked.
Connie looked at me thoughtfully for a moment. “You’re not playing games with me, are you?”
“Sorry? What d’you mean.”
“Yes you do, Angie. I know what you’re getting at… this is about my ‘amnesia’, doesn’t it? You’re testing me.”
“Connie! Give me a break! I wouldn’t dream of playing games like that with you – or anyone else, come to that. That would be sick - I thought you knew me better than that.”
“You’re right. And I’m the one who should be sorry,” she said contritely. “It’s just that I’ve got this image of this bastard in the back of my mind – from somewhere in the past… I don’t know when, or where, he’s in there all right. Maybe that’s what my amnesia’s all about; I just don’t know. I’m not even sure I want to know. This man’s totally evil, Angie, believe me. And I suppose it’s possible he’s killed before but I don’t know anything about that.”
“Could I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Well, it’s just that your visions seem to be on the increase lately; what I mean is there was nothing for a few years – and now, suddenly, your psychic powers have come back. It’s almost as if you’ve been sleeping and something’s sort of snapped you awake. Am I making any sense, Connie?”
She treated me to one of her enigmatic smiles as she considered my question. Then she said, “I don’t even try to make sense of it. I remember the last vision I had was when my mum died…” She shuddered at the memory. “I saw her so clearly, hanging there from the banister…” She peered then as if she was trying to penetrate the darkness, before continuing, “If I look carefully now I’m sure I can still see her. She’s…”
She screwed her eyes tight as though she was shutting off the image. “I’m sorry, Angie; I can’t do this. It’s like another nightmare. Anyway, after that, I suppose I somehow managed to shield myself – stop them from appearing. And when I saw that man pushing Josephine into the car – well,” she shrugged. “I can only think it was because I was getting better.” She grinned. “Now it’s me who’s not making any sense.”
“Yes you are. It was just nature’s way at the time of telling you enough was enough. Tell me, though: when you first saw the man in the field, did he have the child with him?”
“I don’t know. I only saw him put the clothes in the corner of the field. Do you think it’s Josephine?”
I was pretty sure it was Josephine, even without conclusive evidence. I was also certain the bastard really had murdered her.
I nodded, too choked to say anything, too filled with outrage at the terror and suffering that that evil monster had inflicted on a small child. We had to find this man at all costs, capture him before he had the opportunity to torture and kill any more children. I needed to speak with Dr Simmons – as a matter of some urgency. But there was a final question I had to ask Connie.
“Connie; this common where you think the mine is – d’you think if you went back there, in your mind, you might get an idea where it is? Or at least some clue to point us in the right direction?”
“No. Sorry. Anyway it was so dark I couldn’t see a lot.”
“Got idea how long it took to get from the field where he left the clothes to the common itself?”
“No. My vision was kinda fragmented. One minute I was with him in the field, the next I was at the mineshaft. I don’t know how I got there - except we went over this waste ground.”
“Could you think about it some more? Let me know if anything comes back to you – anything that might help?”
“Yeah of course. What you going to do now, Angie?”
“I’m going to speak with Dr Simmons; I’ve an idea he might be able to help us in our search. He used to be involved in offender profiling - and that’s exactly what we need now. Then I have to get back to the station. How about you, Connie? How you planning to spend your time here?”
She grinned and got up from the chair. “I’m going to enjoy my new freedom – and I’m going to have a look round the shops for starters! Do you know how long it is since I went into a shop?”
“Yes. Actually I do. But you’re not going out alone, are you? I don’t think you’re ready for that yet.”
“No, Angie; stop worrying. Sheila said she’d take me. Anyway, I’ve got my own social worker now to look after me.”
“Well, if you’re going shopping you’ll be needing some money.” It was my turn to grin. “You do remember what money is?” I said, handing her a few pounds.
“Yeah! I had a briefing at the hospital. And they’ve already bunged me a few quid, so I don’t think I’ll need any more. But thanks anyway.”
I kissed her on the cheek. “You’re going to be fine, Connie. And I’ll be back to see you, probably tomorrow. And, this time, I’ll remember to keep my mobile switched on, in case you need me.”
“Bye, Angie. And thank you.”
I gave her a wave, as if to say that her thanks weren’t necessary, then went down to meet up with Dr Simmons.