Tony Hill u Carol Jordan 08 - Cross and Burn

their backs on the jungle of madness and become part of the ordered consensus below,’ he’d said. Typical Tony, she thought, then felt irritated with herself for enjoying the richness of his take on the world. Now he was the one implicitly accused of madness and she was the one with the task of restoring him to the mainstream.
    The hospital had extensive grounds and once she had cleared the security gates and parked well away from the buildings, Carol clipped the leash on Flash and let her out of the Land Rover. The sky was grey and heavy with the promise of rain, but it was still only a promise. She walked down the driveway in the teeth of a stiff breeze and when she was sure there was nobody around, she let the dog run free. As she’d done the night before, Flash ranged across the terrain but kept returning to her mistress without being summoned, before taking off on another zigzag run. Carol let the dog run for quarter of an hour, then put her back in the Landie with a bowl of water and a handful of treats.
    By the time she reached the main entrance, she could feel a few drops of rain. ‘Not a moment too soon,’ she muttered, pushing the door open. The reception area was the usual institutional beige and grey, but someone had taken a little effort and imagination to make it more appealing. There were attractive photographs of tranquil mountain scenery around the walls and a pair of large blue glazed pots containing an assortment of house plants. Too heavy to be lifted and thrown, of course, Carol recognised. Off to one side was a doorway without a door leading to a seating area where visitors could wait before being processed and allowed in to see inmates. Behind the glassed-in reception desk, one woman was on the phone, another at a computer.
    Carol stood patiently waiting for one of them to pause in their vital tasks to deal with her. It took a couple of minutes, but the woman on the phone eventually finished her conversation and slid open a panel in the glass. ‘Visiting hours don’t begin till noon,’ she said, not unkindly. ‘They should have told you that at the main gate.’
    ‘I’m not a visitor.’ Carol produced the old warrant card that had got her on to the premises and flashed it at the women. ‘I’d like to see Maggie Spence.’
    ‘Have you got an appointment?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Can you tell me what it’s in connection with?’
    ‘It’s confidential.’
    The woman at the computer glanced up at the word, like a dog picking up a scent. She frowned momentarily, then her face cleared. ‘I’ve seen you with Dr Hill,’ she said, smiling. ‘Molly, this lady works with Dr Hill when he’s doing his profiling.’
    Molly squeezed a smile out. ‘I’ll see if Mrs Spence is available.’ She slid the panel shut and returned to the phone. A brief conversation, glancing at Carol a couple of times, then she replaced the phone and reopened the panel. ‘She’s coming through.’ She produced a clipboard and handed Carol a pen. ‘If you wouldn’t mind signing in?’
    Carol completed the formalities and was pinning a visitor pass to her jacket when a heavy door to one side of the desk clicked open and a woman emerged. Somewhere in her mid to late fifties, Maggie Spence looked like a woman for whom comfort was the headline priority. She wore loose khaki chinos topped by a baggy blue T-shirt and a hand-knitted multicoloured cardigan. A pair of scarlet-rimmed glasses perched on the end of a nose that wouldn’t have looked out of place on Santa Claus. Her plump face was lined with the tell-tale tracks of smiles rather than frowns. Seeing Carol, she gave an automatic grin. ‘Hi, I’m Maggie Spence. I gather you wanted to talk to me?’ She extended a hand and Carol found her fingers enveloped in a warm grip.
    ‘I’m Carol Jordan,’ she said. ‘Thanks for seeing me. Is there somewhere we can talk?’
    Maggie glanced at the visitors’ waiting area. ‘Molly said it was confidential, right?’ Carol nodded. ‘This is too public, then. Come with me and we’ll use my office.’
    Carol followed as Maggie used a swipe card to lead her through a series of locked doors and short hallways to a neat little room with a view across the grounds to the distant moors. Apparently the staff were allowed to enjoy the wild grandeur of nature. Maggie’s office was crammed with books, files and paper, but unlike Tony’s, everything was organised in neat piles. The only wall space not fitted with shelves was