Sophie was moved to one side, unresisting, and Damien walked out into the small room, taking the key with him.
The outer door caused less trouble than the inner one, Damien apparently knowing the different code. He left Sophie standing on the hard ground in the Arboretum as he disappeared round the door frame.
As she stood, frozen in thoughts as well as in body, she heard Timothy speak from the lab. From the sounds of it, he hadn’t turned round to see that the person in there with him wasn’t his partner or her friend.
“Professor, you’re back. There’re reporters wanting to speak to you – I told them to sit in the waiting room while I checked if you were busy.” There was a rustle of paper. “And Ms Dentin, someone phoned for you, said…” Hs sentence cut off, leaving a large, silent gap. It took a few moments before he found his voice again.
“Damien. How… Where’s the professor? And her guest… what have you done to them? Damie…”
With a liquid gurgle, he stopped again. Sophie suddenly felt as though she could move again, but instead of running, instead of trying to get away, her knees gave out and she sunk to the floor. Damien walked back into view, the fingers of one hand coated in what Sophie refused to think of as Timothy’s blood.
“Get rid of the reporters.” He told her, looking down as though she had a choice about standing up.
“Please… I…”
“The reporters.” He repeated, bending over, grabbing her arms, and hauling her to her feet. “Get them out of here.” With a gentle push, perhaps knowing she might fall over if she went any faster, he propelled her out of the Arboretum and down the corridor that led to a room with voices. Sophie had to concentrate on moving her legs, not wanting to stop, or turn, or even make a noise in case he decided to do to her what the blood on his hand attested he had done to Timothy.
Half way down the corridor, a red mark on the edge of her vision resolved into a bloody handprint on the sleeve of her lab coat. With a shudder, and without stopping, Sophie shook herself free of the incriminating stain, feeling strangely as though she was loosing her only protection against the man watching her. She left the coat where it fell, still not daring to stop or look back.
She reached the door. The voices were louder up close, and she could tell there was at least one man and one woman in the waiting room. Praying she could come up with answers for the obvious questions they were bound to ask her on the spot, she turned the handle and walked in.
There were two sofas opposite each other in the room, along with three easy chairs and a table in the middle with a scattering of papers and magazines. Sophie had been in here before – had commented on how much like a dentist waiting room it felt like – but before there had not been three people arranged lazily on the furniture. A woman sat on the sofa, legs tucked under her, a magazine resting on her legs and the arm of the sofa. There were two men, sat in two of the three easy chairs. They appeared to have been discussing an article in the magazine, but they fell silent and looked up as Sophie walked in.
“You wanted to see Professor Ellis?” Sophie asked, hoping she didn’t sound quite as scared as she must have looked.
“Yes.” One of the men replied, standing up and reaching into his pocket. “We’re from the Bugle. We were hoping to have a quick chat with the professor.” He drew a wallet from his pocket and flashed his ID. Sophie couldn’t have cared less that he was official – she had been told to get rid of them.
“I’m afraid Professor Ellis isn’t able to see anyone at the moment.”
“This really won’t take long. We just… Are you feeling okay?”
“Not really.” Sophie told him without thinking. Then, feeling she ought to back it up with something, she added, “I think it was something I ate. I’m about to go home – Elizabeth just wanted me to tell you she can’t leave what she’s doing at the moment.”
“I see.” The man replied blandly. Sophie couldn’t tell if he believed her or not. “Would it be possible to come back later?”
“I don’t know. Maybe if you phoned up later, someone might be able to help you.”
“Right.” He turned to his colleagues, gave them a shrug, and turned back. “Sure. We’ll try phoning later.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
The other two reporters stood and followed the first out of the room. Sophie stayed where she was, afraid to leave, scared she had sent those people out for Damien to deal with. Finding thinking unbearable, she sat heavily on the end of the sofa and stared at the handful of magazines scattered on the table.
Five minutes passed. Sophie listened to the ticking of the clock on the wall, waiting for another scream, or a shout, or some kind of disturbance. But once the outside door had banged closed in the distance, there was nothing. Eventually, as blind panic subsided, Sophie realised she couldn’t stay in that room much longer. It was a miracle Damien hadn’t found her already – she shouldn’t push her luck. With a deep breath, she stood and walked to the door.
The hall outside was empty. It was shocking how relieved that small fact made her. From the lab, she could hear the distinctive sound of her mobile ringing, sounding unsympathetically cheerful.
She should leave it. Damien could be back there. He could be waiting for her. He might have set her phone ringing to draw her back to him.
But Liz was back there too. She couldn’t be dead – not Liz. She could be hurt. She might be waiting for Sophie to come and help her.
But what could she do against Damien?
Visibly shaking, feeling almost too weak to stand, Sophie edged up to the corner where the two corridors met. She clung to the edge of the wall and peered round.
No-one there. She told herself. Deep breath. Liz is waiting for you. Keep going. Not far to the lab door. Just a bit further. Nearly there. Those thoughts took her to the door to the lab, which stood slightly ajar. Her phone rang once more, and stopped. In the silence her heart thudded for the world to hear, but there were no other noises. Thinking of Liz, she pushed gently at the door.
Her phone was on the table in front of her. The double doors into the Arboretum were in a small observation room to the right of the table, and were still open. After a long moment listening for movement, Sophie stepped into the room.
Three things happened next. The body of Timothy, hidden round the corner, came into view, lifelessly leaking blood over the sterile white floor. Sophie stiffened and stopped.
Her phone began to ring again. The sudden noise made Sophie leap backwards out of the room, before clutching at her chest and mouth, trying to silence both.
Then, very deliberately, the door swung closed in her face, and clicked shut.
She was frozen to the spot. He had been in there. She hadn’t seen him. Was he really there? Was the door designed to close itself? Was she panicking over nothing?
A minute later, she was almost calm enough to move. She should try the door again – how could Damien have closed it if he hadn’t been in the room? Slowly, she reached out for the door handle.
“Sophie.” Damien’s voice. A warning. Without hesitation, or even thought, Sophie fled.
Once outside, crunching through the gravel on the drive, she paused to catch her breath. There were three cars on the drive – one belonging to Liz, one to Timothy, but the other was unfamiliar. Someone else was there. Someone who could help? But who was it?
Voices drifted over from down the side of the house. Sophie backed away involuntarily, even as she realised these voices were having a conversation – a normal conversation, between three people. The reporters. They were still here. Sophie felt tears of relief begin to sting at her eyes, but she forced them back. She couldn’t break down yet.
The three journalists wandered into view, and stopped when they saw her.
“I thought you were going home?” The man she had spoken to earlier asked her, apparently not bothered that they had been caught wandering where the shouldn’t have been. “You don’t look at all well.”
“I am…” Sophie tried to calm her racing heart. “I mean, I am going home. And… and I’m not well. I was just…” She looked around again.
“Did you drive here?” The woman asked, beginning to look concerned.
“No. I walked.”
“Well,” She said firmly. “You can’t walk home in the state you’re in. We’ve got a spare seat in the car – we’ll give you a lift.”
“I couldn’t…” Sophie started out of politeness, before common sense took over. How else was she going to get home? She asked herself. Walk through the winding country roads on her own? With Damien around?
“Don’t be daft, of course you can.” The woman held out a hand. “I’m Cassy, by the way.”
“Sophie.” Sophie replied weakly, shaking Cassy’s hand.
“Right, Sophie.” Cassy ushered her to the car as the man she had spoken to held the door open for her. “This is Gary, I’m helping him out with this case. And this,” She gestured behind her at the other man. “Is Michael – he’s temping with us at the moment. Well, has been temping with us. It’s his last day today, though.”
“Hi.” Sophie muttered, climbing into the back of the car. Michael gave her a wave as he got in the other side.
As they drove away, Sophie turned to watch the house disappear amongst the trees, and felt herself relax. Then she realised someone had spoken, and they were waiting for an answer. She turned back.
“I’m sorry. What was that?”
Gary looked at her in the rear view mirror and grinned.
“Something on your mind?” He asked.
“No, I… well, yes. But I should have been paying attention. I’m sorry.”
“I said, do you work for Professor Ellis?”
“Oh. No. No, we’re just friends.”
“Does she talk much about her work?”
Sophie frowned, not sure how to answer. Cassy gave her companion a stern look.
“Gary, leave her alone, she’s sick.” She smiled ironically at their passenger. “Don’t mind him. He doesn’t appreciate that there are times when it’s not appropriate to ask questions.”
Gary didn’t reply, but he did wink at Sophie in the mirror. Sophie tried to smile back, to show she wasn’t offended, but the most she could manage was to not frown. To weary to worry about it, she nodded instead and turned to look out the window.
“So,” Gary asked, noticing her sombre mood and turning serious. “Where do you want dropping off?”
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