Child X by Mick Lee

Author:Mick Lee [Lee, Mick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd
Published: 2020-09-29T00:00:00+00:00

30

Sevenoaks, December 1999

Alone with a psychiatrist, long overdue.

‘Raymond, is it?’

‘Ray is fine.’

‘Good, Ray it is.’

Doctor Geoffrey Toshack sits opposite, gently stroking his short, grey beard with his index finger. Ray looks around the consulting room, at the certificates, the family photographs, the metal filing cabinet. In truth, he is searching for where the archives are likely to be, but there is no harm in appearing interested in other things. Toshack’s private practice sits on the first floor of a Victorian building in the middle of Sevenoaks, above one of the many estate agents that haunt the high street. A street that feels like it is from a different universe to Crawley.

They are opposite each other, on comfortable chairs. Toshack doesn’t have a couch. A small, round table sits between them, a convenient barrier.

‘Right, Ray.’ Toshack leans forward, rubbing his hands together, expensive-looking checked shirt a surprising detail to Ray. No white coat. ‘What do you want to talk about?’

Being a patient would involve paying money, which Ray doesn’t have. No recent winners, not even when he backed a string of favourites. He even tried something new, offered on the screens in his local Ladbrokes, Irish racing. Ray is convinced that is fixed too.

The playground meeting has focused his attention on digging into Keane’s past, as well as where he is now. There will be enough time to narrow his target down to one man in hiding. One of the sheets in Dusty’s stolen folder was the final release recommendation for Michael Keane from Oak Dene Detention Centre, in 1984. It was penned by this Toshack, a juvenile psychologist who also worked at a Murrayfields Secure Home, where Keane was previously locked up for five years. The man who would have advised if Keane was ready to be released.

Breaking into the archive in a damp basement at Murrayfields taught Ray nothing. Two hours sifting through boxes of index cards and folders, torch in his teeth, sweating and wondering what his life has come to, and no sign of a Michael Keane. Or any other name that he recognised from Dusty’s list of identities. If anybody knows who Keane originally was, this Toshack is the man.

‘To be honest, doctor, I want to ask you about something.’

‘Firstly, you don’t need to call me doctor. I’m Geoffrey. And secondly, you can ask about anything.’ Toshack smiles, but Ray detects something behind it. A master of disguise, someone used to digging into your innermost secrets. Ray shivers.

‘What I mean is, I’m not looking for any therapy sessions. Not paid-for sessions.’

‘Oh.’ Toshack looks down at his pad and scribbles a few words, before looking up. Ray imagines this includes, ‘time-waster’. ‘Do explain,’ he says, still sounding patient.

‘What I mean is, I’m researching something, and I hope you can help me.’

‘I thought when you booked it was to see me. Professionally.’ More writing on the pad. Maybe ‘untrustworthy’ this time.

‘Mister Callahan at Murrayfields gave me your name.’ A lie; it was the receptionist. Callahan is the head

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