Time To Play by KA Richardson (best book club books of all time TXT) 📗

knew he’d have to face them one day, be able to think about what happened without running away. But he couldn’t imagine how he’d ever be ready to do it.

Spending the night with Marlo though, had left him... What? Hopeful maybe? At peace? He didn’t think it was the latter, not yet. But he felt kind of like there was now a potential for it, where before remembering had always swamped him. He’d never been able to picture himself being able to move on.

Now though, he just didn’t know.

It felt good though, to allow the grief close to the surface without thinking it would consume him. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

He sat at his desk and pulled the top file from the pile to his right.

He’d find Marlo later; maybe try to talk through some of the awkwardness from the day before.

Ryhope, Sunderland – 14 November

He unlocked the door and entered the room, apprehensive as to what he’d find. He felt bad for beating the girl so severely. He barely remembered anything except blind rage. Part of him expected to find her dead. It had scared him, if he was honest. He’d never in his life lost control so horrifically.

He flicked the light switch, illuminating the room in bright, artificial light.

As he saw the girl, he gasped loudly.

Cuts and bruises covered her face and arms. He could only imagine what the rest of her looked like. She was slumped against the side of the cage, her head lolling onto her chest.

What have I done? The poor girl. She didn’t deserve this. I didn’t mean for it to happen, not this way.

He opened the cage door and pulled her out as gently as he could.

I should take her to hospital, I could tell them I found her like this. But he shook his head, they’d get an interpreter, and she’d tell them the truth about the monster who had kept her in a cage and beaten her.

Stepping back, he knew what he had to do. He’d done it before.

It was different this time though: normally he didn’t care. If they died during his teachings, then they weren’t strong enough to cope with pain. It was never about him killing them. They had to learn to cope and if they didn’t, then they died. But he was connected to this one somehow. It made him sad to think he would have to end it.

Out of habit, he turned the video camera on and started speaking. ‘Subject seven, day ten. I lost my temper with the girl yesterday, beat her too much. It wasn’t her fault. I lost control. She gave me her name, Nita. She’s hurt badly, barely even stirred as I took her from the cage. I couldn’t stop.’ His voice broke on the words, and tears filled his eyes. ‘I need to make sure she doesn’t tell anyone. This is the last time. I’m not taking any more girls. I can’t do this again.’

He took a breath and stared at her, knowing he would never forget her face, and always remember how hard she fought to live. It was definitely time to stop. He was tired, so exhausted with his whole life that it felt like it physically hurt him.

Sighing, he clamped his hands around her throat and squeezed hard, ignoring the feeling of desolation that flooded through him.

He heard her try to catch her breath, felt her feeble struggle beneath his hands.

She was too spent, though, to struggle hard, and he felt the moment she gave up fighting. But still he held on tight, sad tears trickling down his face and onto her cheek.

What’s happened to me? When did I get to the point that I could kill without mercy, just to protect myself?

He only stopped squeezing when he could no longer feel the flutter of her heart against his fingers. And he wiped his hands across his face, clearing the tears.

He had no right to cry. This girl had needed teaching, but he’d moved from that and made it personal. That was his fault.

Leaving her in the chair, he left the room and locked up.

The red light on the video camera blinked, still recording.

 

Chapter Twenty

Dive Team HQ, South Shields – 14 November

M arlo was exhausted, the kind of tired so deep her bones ached. She’d spent three hours in the water, alternating times with Sharpie, but despite several blips showing on the sonar, they were no closer to finding the old man who’d gone under.

Mitchell, the DI handling the investigation, had stood them down when they returned to station. It wasn’t viable to conduct further dives. The likely scenario was that he had got into difficulty and drowned. His body would probably wash up somewhere along the coast thanks to the tidal movement.

It felt bad, not finding the body. Marlo knew the family wouldn’t get any closure until he was found.

Not every case got to her, in fact most didn’t. She had become good at compartmentalising, the same as anyone who saw and dealt with what she did on a daily basis. But this one had. She hadn’t wanted to negotiate the drive home while full of emotion. She made an excuse about having paperwork to do and stayed behind after everyone left, reassuring Sharpie that she was fine so he would go too. Then she’d had taken a long shower and cried. Deep, wracking sobs for the old man she couldn’t find.

She could imagine how he’d felt, taking the same swimming route he took three times a week only to be caught out by a riptide. She could feel him struggle against the pull, using his strength trying to get out but only ending up further in. And she could imagine the very second when he gave up, the second he became too