Private Games (Private 3)

Farrell’s eyes blinked open and she cringed. ‘Turn off lights. Migraine.’

A nurse closed the unit’s curtains. Farrell opened her eyes again. She gazed around the room, saw Knight, and looked puzzled. ‘What happened to me?’

‘We were hoping you could tell us, professor,’ Knight said.

‘I don’t know.’

Pottersfield said, ‘Can you explain why your DNA – from your hair, to be exact – was found in one of the letters from Cronus to Karen Pope?’

The information was slow to penetrate Farrell’s fogged brain. ‘Pope? The reporter?’ she said to Knight. ‘My DNA? No, I don’t remember.’

‘What do you remember?’ Knight demanded.

Farrell blinked and groaned, and then said: ‘Dark room. I’m on a bed, alone. Tied down. Can’t get up. My head is splitting open, and they won’t give me anything to stop it.’

‘Who are “they”?’ Knight demanded.

‘Women. Different women.’

Pottersfield was beginning to look irritated. She said, ‘Selena, do you understand that your DNA links you to seven murders in the last two weeks?’

That shocked the professor and she became more alert. ‘What? Seven …? I haven’t killed anyone. I never … What, what day is it?’

‘Saturday, 11 August 2012,’ Knight replied.

The professor moaned, ‘No. It felt like I was only there overnight.’

‘In the dark room with women?’ Pottersfield asked.

‘You don’t believe me?’

‘No,’ Pottersfield said.

Knight said, ‘Why did you fake getting sick and flee your office when Karen Pope played the flute music to you?’

Farrell’s eyes widened. ‘It made me sick, because … I’d heard it before.’

Chapter 89

I TERMINATE THE call to Marta and look over at Teagan, feeling as if I’d like to rip her head off right now. But she’s behind the wheel and an accident is out of the question at this late stage of the game.

‘Turn around,’ I say, struggling for calm. ‘We’ve got to go to the factory.’

‘The factory?’

Teagan replies nervously. ‘It’s broad daylight.’

‘Farrell escaped. She was picked up inside the gasworks. Knight and the Scotland Yard inspector Pottersfield is with her at the hospital right now.’

Teagan loses colour.

‘How could that have happened?’ I demand softly. ‘She wasn’t supposed to be freed until tomorrow morning. It was your responsibility to see to that, sister.’

Panic-stricken, she says, ‘I should have told you, but I knew how much pressure you were under. There were drunken lads inside the factory when I was there yesterday morning. I figured the smell would keep them from the room. They must have broken the lock and let her go or something. I don’t know.’

‘We’ve got to clean the place,’ I say. ‘Get us there. Now.’

We don’t talk during the rest of the drive, or during our entry into the toxic factory grounds, or as we sneak inside the basement. I have only been here once before, so Teagan leads. We both carry rubbish bags.