Chapters (73)
- Rabbit Hole
- Also by Mark Billingham
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Preface
- PART ONE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- PART TWO
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- PART THREE
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- EPILOGUE
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- Back Cover
Malaika comes out of the nurses’ station carrying a cardboard box. She takes it into one of the examination rooms. The corridor’s empty, so I glance at Marcus.
‘Just the not sleeping,’ I say.
‘OK . . .’
I can tell Marcus isn’t quite buying it. He’s too good at his job and he can smell bullshit a mile away. I’m wondering how much I can tell him. I mean, normally I’d say sweet FA about what’s actually going on, because the minute I open my mouth about anything like this they just presume all my craziness from before has dropped in for a visit and I end up rattling with all the extra anti-psych pills. Now, though, they’ve given me an . . . explanation. It’s like this new diagnosis they’re all so pleased with themselves about has given me a get-out-of-jail-free card.
It can’t hurt to test the water a little.
‘You quite sure about the PTSD?’ I ask. ‘What’s causing it?’
His grunt is emphatic. ‘Your symptoms are very common.’
‘I do know about PTSD,’ I say. ‘It’s why I’m in here, remember?’
‘Perhaps it isn’t as severe as last time, but as Dr Bakshi explained—’
‘It’s not enough though. I found a body. So what?’
‘I think for most people that would be traumatic enough. So soon after Kevin’s death, too. Let’s not forget that.’
‘Yeah, but I’m not most people, am I? I saw far worse things than that when I was a copper. Plenty of bodies . . . kids and whatever, and none of that stuff screwed my memory up and all the rest of it. Just saying, it feels a bit . . . convenient.’
Marcus says nothing for maybe half a minute, lets his head drop back like he’s happy with a few moments of relative peace and calm. Then he turns to look at me. ‘What’s . . . all the rest of it?’
Malaika comes out of the examination room and walks back into the nurses’ station. Ilias emerges from the men’s corridor and turns towards the TV room. He gives me a strange look as he passes and I watch him until he disappears.
‘I think I’m in danger,’ I say.
‘What kind of danger?’
In for a penny, right? ‘Someone wants to hurt me. Wants to kill me.’ I see the obvious question on his face. ‘The same person who killed Debbie.’
‘Why would they want to kill you, Alice?’
I’m not an idiot, so I know that Marcus could be the very person we’re now talking about. I don’t think it makes much odds. Except for the coppers and that psychiatrist they brought with them, I’ve thought the same thing, at one time or another, about every person I’ve spoken to since it happened.
OK, so not all of them. Maybe not Lucy.