Ripple Effect

Chapter Fifty-Two: ...it wasn't her.

Elizabeth

4:16 PM

Ring-ring. Ring-ring. Ring-ring.

Elizabeth fingered the edge of the business card and pressed the corner into the pad of her thumb whilst she waited for Russell to pick up. With each echo of the dial tone, the pit of her stomach wrung one twist tighter. It felt as though every passing second were another opportunity for the person—or people—behind the poisoning to slip away. She tried to silence the whisper that snaked through the alleys of her mind, reminding her of the millions of seconds that had passed since her interview with the FBI and all the opportunities those seconds had presented, not only for the people responsible to escape, but for her to stop herself from ending up where she was now. How different things could have been had she only told the truth back then. She focused instead on the fact that remembering the car was a possible lead, it could be just what they needed to make progress in the case now, and more importantly, she'd managed to recall it without flailing into panic, and that was progress—a step forward—of a different kind.

"Hello?" Russell's voice rasped down the line.

"Russell." Elizabeth turned her back on the office desk and on Amy who perched on the chair behind it. She lowered her voice to a hiss. "Did you seriously suggest that Dr Sherman use a sticker chart for my therapy?"

"Whatever works, right? And either it is working and you actually managed to earn yourself a phone privilege, or you've left a pile of bodies behind you on your way to get to the phone."

She paused. He wasn't wrong. About it working, not about the bodies. "Whatever." She shook it off. "Look, I remembered something. I know it doesn't sound like much, but there was a car outside my house leading up to that day. I had a funny feeling about it at the time."

A scuffling sound came from the other end of the line.

Elizabeth wrapped the white plastic cord around one finger, and then let it ping free. "I know, you probably think it's nothing..."

The scuffling sound continued.

"...but what if somebody was watching the house?"

There came a muffled slam.

She frowned. "Russell?"

"Sorry. I was thinking."

"Well, do you think you could talk to DS? See if they—"

"This car... Was it there when you came back from the hospital?"

She stopped. Her mouth hung open. "Possibly... Why?"

"Right. I'm on my way." More scuffling. He paused, and then added, "I'd tell you to stay put, but I trust you've learnt your lesson after last time."

***

5:44 PM

"Elizabeth." Russell's voice came from the doorway to her room.

"Evening, Russell." Elizabeth finished the sentence she was writing, clicked the end of the pen and disappeared the nib, and then folded the cover shut on the therapy file. She pushed the file across the dressing table, so that it was in line with the mirror at the back.

She swivelled around in her seat on the padded stool, whilst Russell kicked the doorstop free and urged the door into its frame. "You know, you didn't need to come all this way."

"Actually—" He grabbed the spindle-back chair from the corner of the room, his fingers wrapping around the top rail, and he set it down opposite her. "—I did."