I joined Connie and Steve Harrison in the lounge at Ashworth House. She had an all too familiar look about her today; her face was very pale, her eyes clouded by dark shadows, and she was trembling. I recognised the symptoms from previous experiences.
“I’m glad you came, Sarge,” Steve said, a worried look on his face. “She’s been like this most of the morning, and I can’t persuade her to tell me what the problem is. Maybe she’ll talk to you.”
“Do you think you can leave us alone for a while, Steve?”
After he had left the room I turned and held Connie in a sympathetic embrace. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” I said, comfortingly; “I do understand. You don’t have to talk about it if you’re not up to it.”
“Have you come from the crime scene?” she asked, almost as if we were exchanging telepathic messages. I wasn’t at all surprised; it was obvious, to me at least, what had happened.
“Yes. Just now. I’m only sorry there was nothing we could do about your vision.”
“What could you have done, Angie? I wasn’t totally convinced myself at the time it was a prophesy. How could I? It had never happened before.”
“Are you okay to talk about it, or would you rather leave it till later?”
“I don’t mind talking to you, Angie, but I couldn’t discuss it with Steve. And it’s become very important, hasn’t it?”
“Yes. Very. But I’ll have to ask you to try and relive the whole thing, if you can. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to tape our conversation. Will you be comfortable with that?”
She nodded, and then said, “As long as it’s understood that you don’t make it public – I really couldn’t handle that.”
“How about if I let Paul – Dr Simmons – listen to it?”
“Well, I guess that’s okay, if you feel you have to; but if he gives me one more of his cynical smirks, I swear I’m going to hit him.” Laughing now, she went on, “Where do you want to start?”
I placed the tiny recorder on the table and pressed the start button. “Well, let me take you back to that day in the car. It was Sunday afternoon, if you remember, and we were on our way home from Malvern when you suddenly ‘disappeared’; you literally went off into a world of your own. At first I didn’t really notice your reactions, I was tired and we’d had a long day, and I suppose I just wanted to get us home. Then, the next thing I was aware of you were moaning, and your eyes had rolled over as if you were having some kind of a seizure. You looked so terrible it frightened the life out of me. I thought it might be some kind of epileptic fit. So I pulled off the road and called for an ambulance. Thinking about it, I would have to say you were out of it completely for about 20 minutes, and then it was another half an hour before you were fully back with us. Do you remember having any awareness of time at all?”
“No. None. I recall being in the car one minute – it was a cloudy day; I remember that – and the next minute I was in a public park, on a sunny morning, heading towards a children’s playground. It was as if I was seeing everything through some kind of veil.”
“Can you explain that, Connie? I’m not sure I understand.”
She sat back in the chair and closed her eyes in deep concentration, saying nothing for quite a time. Then, with her eyes still shut, she said, “Whoever was showing me the picture didn’t want anyone to see me; I think I was being protected by a screen of some kind. I could see out but no one could see in. I saw the playground, with all the children enjoying themselves; I saw the mothers on the benches; then someone turned my vision towards a man in uniform – I believe it was a ranger’s uniform, but I’m not certain. He was walking around the outside of the playground, just watching the children.”
“Did you get a look at his face...?”
Her eyes still closed, she held a hand up as if to tell me not to break her concentration. “I saw he was watching one little girl very closely; she was tiny and had blonde hair, and she was playing with her friend on the swings. Then I noticed he had moved closer to the entrance; he was beckoning to the little girl with his finger, wanting her to go over to him. She did, with her friend; then he leant down to talk to her. All the time he was smiling and being friendly.” I watched her face screw up tightly with anxiety before she was able to continue. “He took the little girl’s hand in his – she was smiling too – and they went out of the playground. No one noticed, except her friend, and she headed towards the seesaw. No one seemed to be bothered at all, apart from me; I shouted a warning but no one could hear me.”
Connie was obviously suffering by now, her features showing a mixture of fear and anger. I thought of bringing her round, but decided that might be dangerous. She said nothing for at least five minutes, just sitting there with her eyes closed and her hands clenched into fists.
Then, at last, she spoke again. “I followed them to his car; it was one of those Range Rovers, I think. The girl began to struggle, so he clamped his hand over her mouth while he tried to open the car door. The child was kicking him now and trying to scream. His hand slipped from her mouth and she bit him – hard, very hard; I noticed his finger was bleeding and spots fell onto the ground beside the car. Then he punched her – hard – with his fist. He was furious with her, but I can tell he was also frightened. She was barely conscious when he threw her into the car; then his sunglasses fell off and I saw his face.”
She opened her eyes suddenly, very alert but extremely distressed. She took hold of my hand and gripped it tightly; I noticed tears were trickling down her cheeks. “Dear God, Angie,” she stuttered. “It’s the same man! The one who killed Josephine.”
I put her hand in both of mine and squeezed it gently. “It’s alright, Connie. He can’t reach you here. Could you see the number of his car?”
“Some of it. I know it began with a ‘T’, and it had the number ‘2’ in the middle, but the rest is just a blur. I’m sorry.” She shrugged her shoulders in frustration.
“Do you remember the colour?”
“Black. Or dark blue.”
“And this time you got a good look at him?”
“Yes. It was very clear. Almost like a photograph. And he’s younger than I thought – he can’t be any older than 40 at the most. And he’s smaller, and thinner.”
“Does he resemble the photofit you did of him?”
“Not quite. I’m sure I can do a better one now.” She frowned. “I’m positive I’ve seen him somewhere before, Angie. I just can’t remember where.”
Déjà vu, I thought. “Don’t worry about it, Connie. I’m sure your memory will recover in its own time if you don’t try to force it. But you’ve done brilliantly,” I said, punching Jim’s mobile number.
“DCI Robbins.”
“Jim. Where are you?”
“Hi, Ange. I’m still at the crime scene. How about you?”
“I’m with Connie. I’ll fill you in later on all the details, but you have to get forensics to check the area around the car. They should find some bloodstains on the ground.”
There was silence for a moment, whilst his mind adjusted to this latest esoteric phenomenon, but he didn’t question the source of the information. “Good. I’ll get them on to it. Anything else?”
“Yes. As you said, his car was a type of Range Rover – a four-wheel drive. It’s either black or dark blue. Also, we have a partial Reg: it’s a ‘T’ registration, and it has the number ‘2’ in it. And, Connie informs me that he punched the child with his fist, because she bit him, so it’s likely he’ll have blood on his clothes.”
I heard a sigh. “Yeah, okay. We knew about the type of vehicle from the tyre tracks. But the colour and the partial will help. We’ve put out an APB and roadblocks, but the problem with that kind of motor is he doesn’t have to stick to the roads; he can go cross-country. Anyway, at least we can broaden the description. And, Angie, when you get back to the station, set up the procedures for a mass vehicle check, will you? Let’s see how many T-Reg four-wheel drives we’ll be talking about. Got to go. I’ll see you later.”
I checked my watch. It was time I was going; Paul would be at the station shortly.
“Will you be alright, Connie, if I leave you with Steve?”
She smiled and wiped her cheek with a handkerchief. “Go and catch him, Angie. I’ll be fine.”