Page 54 of The Unforgiven

“Understandable. Most people don’t. It’s the fear of being forgotten that’s at the root of it, but maybe you know that.” He sat himself down, his body sinking into the chair. “But you’re not here for a psychology lesson.”

“I have a master’s in criminology so you think I’d be able to work myself out better.”

“Maybe it’s because you know your stuff that it’s harder. The more we know, the more we realise we don’t know; the more you understand, the harder it is for you to give yourself grace to be imperfect.” He lay his hands on the table, arms relaxed and I understood why he’d been working here for so long. Fifteen years if I remembered correctly. A long time in one place. A long time in one industry.

“You sound like my old tutor, Daniel Fletcher.”

His eyebrows shot to the top of his head. “Ah, Dr Fletcher. That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time.”

“You know him?” I felt a sudden rush of affection for the man who’d managed to coax me down from metaphorical ledges when I didn’t think I should be studying criminology.

“I did. He used to do a bit of private work here, you know, when we were short of a clinical psychologist he’d cover a fewshifts and take on a small case load, maybe two patients a week.” Dave smiled. “He was a nice bloke, typical doctor though. Thought he knew best in all cases, but then they’re all like that, aren’t they?”

“I suppose so. I’m here to find out a bit more about a patient who was in here twice, Charlie Mason. He was treated here the first time, eleven years ago, and readmitted two and half years ago. Do you - ”

“Remember him?” he interrupted me. Charlie? Of course I do. I like to think I remember most of the patients, not all, but you certainly remember the ones who returned.”

“Why did he end up being admitted?”

Dave sighed, shaking his head and looking up at the ceiling, not in frustration or irritation, but as if he had questions of his own he needed answers to at some point.

“He had a diagnosis of schizoaffective disorder – bipolar type – and ADHD. Charlie had been a bit of a lost boy. He was one of eight kids brought up in a chaotic household, with a father who was physically abusive, and I suspect, sexually abusive to his daughters. Charlie struggled at school, he acted out, brought a knife in one day because some other kids were threatening him, and he ended up being kicked out. He was meant to attend a pupil referral unit, but used to bunk off and I don’t think anyone knew where he was, or cared really, as long as he wasn’t causing any bother.

“He ended up being arrested after he caused a motorway to be closed because he was walking along it. While he was being held he was significantly distressed, showing signs of paranoia and then psychosis, so he was sectioned and held here under the mental health act for eighteen months. I think when he was here it was the happiest time of his life. They have to review an order after the initial six months; we all thought Charlie would be discharged at that point, but the week before it was due, hehad another massive episode; that was one of the worst nights of my life. He took one of the other patients hostage for twelve hours, a young girl called Kelly-Anne and refused to let her out. After that, he was detained for another twelve months. A few of the nurses who worked here thought he’d done it on purpose to be kept here.”

None of this was in the file that I’d eventually seen. There was very little victimology in it, the conclusion categorically that it had been a case of mistaken identity.

“Were there any other incidents like that?”

“Oh, aye,” Dave nodded. “Usually when his social worker commented on how well he was doing, or one of the doctors praised him. I’m not convinced it was chosen or if there was some deep-rooted trauma. I suspected he might’ve been sexually abused when he was younger, and part of the grooming process was around praise, that the interaction was suggested to be a reward for Charlie’s good behaviour and by interaction, I mean abuse.”

“Charlie never disclosed anything though?” I was impressed with how well Dave remembered him.

“Not to my knowledge, although your old professor might know more seeing as he treated him after the hostage incident. I do wonder whether he spoke to Kelly-Anne though, although she didn’t know which way was up at first.”

“Why did Charlie return here?”

“Psychosis. He managed to get an entire tower block of people evacuated without any alarms because he was convinced the gestapo were in the walls. He called the gestapo rats though, which is what I think got people moving, and then he threatened to fly like a bomb from the top floor. He was using heroin at the time and other substances – he was very different the second time he came in here.”

Dave hugged himself, reminding me of a teddy bear.

“Was he ready to be discharged?”

“No. Not at all. He should’ve done another twelve months. I’d have put my mother’s engagement ring on the first thing he’d do when he got out was to go and score, and that’s exactly what he did. There was only one reason he’d be near the Wheatsheaf – there’s only one reason why anyone goes near it. Someone must be getting a pay off somewhere, because the bloody thing needs shutting down or setting on fire.” He checked his phone, tapping at it to respond. “Member of staff needs to go home – sick kid.”

“Just one more question – did you know of anyone who would’ve deliberately targeted him? He sounded like he was hard work.”

Dave thought for a moment. “He was, at times, but for the most of it he was a good kid. Even that with Kelly-Anne, she still worshipped him – he was her best friend while she was in here, but he had other friends too. I think it was why he liked being in here so much – he was accepted.”

“But the second time he didn’t fight to stay in?”

“No,” Dave stood up. “He wanted heroin more than he wanted to be in here. Sad ending really. He was let down as a kid by the system, so I suppose what happened was inevitable. You always knew he wasn’t going to live a long life, and what life he did have wasn’t happy. Maybe it was for the best, although we shouldn’t say such things, should we?”

I stood as well, not sure whether I agreed with him. “We shouldn’t; but I think I’m starting to understand what you mean.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

“So where have you been, Craig? Because you’ve got to admit, it’s a bit of coincidence we want to speak to your mate, Neil, about where he was on the night his girlfriend died, and then the pair of you disappear. Real fucking co-incidence.” Vinny stepped back, arms folded, looking like he’d been transplanted into the interview room as a gift from the nineteen-seventies.