“He raped you, and you married him? You didn’t tell the police?”
Lucy laughed. “He didn’t know what he was getting into. I gave him the rape of his life. It might have taken him a while to realize it, but I was raping him as much as he was raping me. It wasn’t my first time, Maggie. Believe me, I know all about rape. From experts. There was nothing he could do that hadn’t been done to me before, time after time, by more than one person. He thought he was in control, but sometimes it’s the victim who’s really in control. We had a lot in common, we soon found out. Sexually. And in other ways. He kept on raping girls even after we were together. I encouraged him. I used to make him tell me all the details of what he’d done to them while we were fucking.”
“I don’t understand.” Maggie was crying and trembling, no longer able to keep her horror and fear in check now she knew there was no chance of reasoning with Lucy.
“Of course you don’t,” Lucy said soothingly, sitting on the edge of the bed and stroking Maggie’s brow. “Why should you? But you’ve been useful, and I’d like to thank you for that. First you gave me somewhere to hide the tapes. I knew they were the only things that might incriminate me other than Terry, and I didn’t think he’d talk. Besides, he’s dead now.”
“What do you mean about the tapes?”
“They were here all along, Maggie. Remember I came to see you that Sunday, before all hell broke loose?”
“Yes.”
“I brought them with me and hid them behind some boxes up in the loft when I went up to the toilet. You’d already told me you never went up there. Don’t you remember?”
Maggie did remember. The loft was an airless, dusty place, she had discovered on her first and only look, which gave her the willies and aggravated her allergies. She must have mentioned it to Lucy when showing her around the house. “Is that why you made friends with me, because you thought I might be useful?”
“I thought I might have need of a friend somewhere down the line, yes, a defender, even. And you were good. Thank you for all you’ve said on my behalf. Thank you for believing in me. I’m not enjoying this, you know. I get no pleasure from killing. It’s a pity it has to end this way.”
“But it doesn’t,” Maggie begged. “Oh, God, please don’t. Just go. I won’t say anything. I promise.”
“Oh, you say that now, now that you’re full of fear of death, but if I go, you won’t feel that way anymore, and you’ll tell the police everything.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“I wish I could believe you, Maggie, I really do.”
“It’s true.”
Lucy took the belt off her jeans.
“What are you doing?”
“I told you, I’ll be gentle. It’s nothing to be frightened of, just a little pain, then you’ll go to sleep.”
“No!”
Someone banged on the front door. Lucy froze and Maggie held her breath. “Be quiet,” Lucy hissed, putting her hand over Maggie’s mouth. “They’ll go away.”
But the banging continued. Then came a voice. “Maggie! Open up, it’s the police. We know you’re in there. We spoke to your neighbor. She saw you come home. Open up, Maggie. We want to talk to you. It’s very important.”
Maggie could see fear in Lucy’s expression. She struggled to shout, but the hand covered her mouth, almost cut off her breath.
“Is she with you, Maggie?” the voice continued. It was Banks, Maggie realized, the detective who made her angry. If only he stayed, broke down the door and rescued her, she’d apologize; she’d do whatever he wanted. “Is that who it is?” Banks went on. “The blond girl your neighbor saw. Is it Lucy? Did she change her appearance? If it’s you, Lucy, we know all about Kathleen Murray. We’ve got a lot of questions for you. Maggie, come down and open up. If Lucy’s with you, don’t trust her. We think she hid the tapes in your house.”
“Be quiet,” Lucy said, and went out of the room.
“I’m here!” Maggie immediately yelled at the top of her lungs, not sure if they could hear her or not. “She’s here, too. Lucy. She’s going to kill me. Please help me!”
Lucy came back into the bedroom, but she didn’t seem concerned by Maggie’s screams. “They’re out back, too,” she said, crossing her arms. “What can I do? I can’t go to jail. I couldn’t stand to be locked up in the cage for the rest of my days.”
“Lucy,” Maggie said as evenly as she could manage. “Untie me and open the door. Let them in. I’m sure they’ll be lenient. They’ll see you need help.”
But Lucy wasn’t listening. She had started pacing again and muttering to herself. All Maggie could catch was the word “cage” again and again.
Then she heard an almighty crash from downstairs as the police broke the front door, then the sound of men running up the stairs.
“I’m up here!” she yelled.
Lucy looked at her, almost pitifully, Maggie thought, said, “Try not to hate me too much,” then she took a run and dived through the bedroom window in a shower of glass.
Maggie screamed.
20
For someone who disliked hospitals as much as Banks did, he seemed to have spent more than enough time in the infirmary over the past couple of weeks, he thought as he walked down the corridor to Maggie Forrest’s private room on Thursday.
“Oh, it’s you,” Maggie said when he knocked and walked in. She wouldn’t look him in the eye, he noticed, but stared at the wall. The bandage over her forehead held the dressing at the back of her head in place. The wound had been a nasty one, requiring several stitches. She had also lost a lot of blood. When Banks had got to her, the pillow was soaked with it. According to the doctor, though, she was out of the woods and should be okay to go home in a day or so. Now she was being treated for delayed shock as much as anything. Looking at her, Banks thought of the day not so long ago when he first saw Lucy Payne in a hospital bed, one eye bandaged, the other assessing her situation, black hair spread out on the white pillow.
“Is that all the thanks I get?” he said.
“Thanks?”
“For bringing in the cavalry. It was my idea, you know. True, I was only doing my job, but people sometimes feel the need to add a word or two of personal thanks. Don’t worry, I don’t expect a tip or anything.”
“It’s easy for you to be flippant, isn’t it?”
Banks pulled up the chair and sat at her bedside. “Maybe not as easy as you think. How are you?”
“Fine.”
“Really?”
“I’m all right. A bit sore.”
“It’s hardly surprising.”
“Was it really you?”
“Was what really me?”
Maggie looked him in the eye for the first time. Hers were dulled with medication, but he could see pain and confusion there, along with something softer, something less definable. “Who led the rescue party.”
Banks leaned back and sighed. “I only blame myself that it took me so long,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“I should have worked it out earlier. I had all the pieces. I just didn’t put them together quickly enough, not until the SOCO team found the camcorder in the pond at the bottom of The Hill.”
“That’s where it was?”
“Yes. Lucy must have dumped it there sometime over that last weekend.”
“I go there sometimes to think and feed the ducks.” Maggie stared at the wall, then turned to face him again after a few seconds. “Anyway, it’s hardly your fault, is it? You’re not a mind reader.”
“No? People sometimes expect me to be. But I suppose I’m not. Not in this case. We suspected from the start that there must have been a camcorder and tapes, and we knew she wouldn’t part with the tapes easily. We also knew that the only person she was close to was you, and that she had visited your house the day before the domestic disturbance.”