Like This, for Ever

absolute fact it was Lacey Flint?

48
    ‘ I’VE REMEMBERED SOMETHING else. Do you want me to tell you about it?’
    ‘If you’d like to.’
    ‘Do you want me to tell you?’
    The patient was getting agitated again. ‘Yes, I do,’ said the psychiatrist.
    ‘Shit.’
    The psychiatrist said nothing. She sat, still and unmoved, maintaining eye contact with the patient.
    ‘I said shit.’
    ‘Yes, I heard. What about it?’
    ‘That’s what I remember. The smell of shit. They all shat themselves, just before they died. It was running down their legs, staining their pants, all over the floor.’
    ‘Well, that’s not so surprising. When people are terrified, which those boys must have been, they often lose control of their bodily functions. It’s normal.’
    ‘It’s disgusting. I didn’t mind the blood, the blood didn’t make me feel funny at all, but the shit. Just turns my stomach. Why’d they have to do that? Why’d they have to shit?’

49
Wednesday 20 February
    ‘MORNING, MA’AM.’ IT was Stenning. ‘I’ve got good news and bad news.’
    ‘Give me the bad.’ Dana was only half awake. Christ, they’d found him. Oliver Kennedy had been found on a grubby, oil-streaked beach somewhere.
    ‘Bartholomew Hunt has already been on TV this morning, announcing to the world that he seriously doubts we found the body of Oliver Kennedy last night. He says in his view it was a massive hoax, that the killer does not dispatch his victims so quickly, that Oliver is still alive somewhere and being fed upon and that the shambles that is this city’s law-enforcement agency (that’s us, by the way) has endangered his life by wasting time and resources on a wild-goose chase.’
    ‘Somebody’s tipped him off.’ Christ, she could count on the fingers of one hand how many people knew it wasn’t Oliver on the bridge last night. ‘OK, Pete, I appreciate the heads up. I’ll see you at the station.’
    ‘Hold your horses, DI Tulloch. I said good news and bad. I’ve only given you the bad.’
    Suddenly, something was pulling the sides of Dana’s throat together.
    ‘What?’
    ‘We’ve found him.’
    ‘Say that again?’ Wide awake now, bolt upright, the only thing keeping her from jumping out of bed was the fear of missing Stenning’s next words.
    ‘We’ve got Oliver Kennedy. Safe and sound. Cold as an icicle and seriously frightened, but basically fine. I’m behind the ambulance now, following him to St Thomas’s. Even his parents don’t know yet.’
    ‘Christ, I can’t believe it.’ Dana was up, looking round the room for clothes. Anything would do.
    ‘Neither could we, to be honest, Ma’am. We got the call about half an hour ago. I was on my way in and just went straight there.’
    ‘OK, Pete, don’t tell me any more now. Do your absolute best to keep this quiet and don’t let reporters anywhere near Oliver or the medical staff treating him. I’ll get his parents and bring them to the hospital. If we can keep this under wraps, we might be able to use it.’
    ‘Will do, Ma’am. See you there.’
    The living child was as pale as the dead ones had been and, frankly, not much more animated. There was a red bruise on his left cheek, and the skin on his right cheekbone had been scraped. Huge shadows under his eyes. But this one was sitting up, clutching his mother’s hand tightly, blinking his tears away.
    ‘Hi, Oliver,’ said Dana, letting the door of the private hospital room close softly behind her. ‘I’m Dana. I’m a detective. I need to ask you some questions, if that’s OK.’
    Oliver’s mother, leaning out of her chair to be closer to her son, glared at Dana as though she might bite her if she got too close. ‘He needs to sleep,’ she said.
    A few hours ago, she’d have promised Dana anything to have her son back again.
    ‘This won’t take long,’ said Dana, pulling up a chair and sitting down. ‘Well, Oliver, you’ve given us all a bit of a fright. Can you tell me what happened?’
    It took longer than it should have. In spite of everything she could say to reassure him, Oliver was frightened of her. She suspected he’d be frightened of anything and everything unfamiliar for a long time to come. He was another victim, even if he was still alive and relatively unhurt.
    Eventually, though, she’d heard everything he had to say. He told her that when Joe had gone running back to the tennis club, he’d hung around at the gate of the park, keeping Joe in sight and making