Page 103 of The Psychopath Next Door

The sky was hardly visible above the canopy of trees, but the slivers of blue between the branches had been replaced by glimpses of deep grey clouds. Fiona wasn’t bothered by that. In fact, heavy rain might help her. Making surfaces slippery. Accidents more likely to happen.

They continued along the overgrown path, Fiona pushing aside vegetation, occasionally stopping to hold a branch so Rose could get by without scraping her head. The further they went, the stronger the charge of dark energy. She felt it enter her, slide beneath her skin and heat up her blood. She had to be careful: Maisie always told her that when she got overexcited she would make low, animal noises in her throat, ones she wasn’t even aware of. She didn’t want to freak Emma out and make her turn tail.

She glanced back at Rose, wondering what she was thinking. She looked grumpy, like any child forced to go on a hike by her parents. It was a shame she couldn’t feel the energy of this place too, though one day she would understand. After today, it would always be special to her.

‘I can see light,’ Emma said from behind Fiona, and she was right. The path opened up and suddenly they were standing in a clearing – and looking at a wire fence that blocked the way. Thefence was almost completely covered with creepers and long green tendrils that had wrapped themselves around the metal, obscuring the view beyond.

‘Oh,’ Emma said. ‘What a shame.’

But Fiona had already moved to the left. It had been years since she’d come here, but she would be amazed if they’d fixed the fence. She just needed to remember where she had cut through last time. She patted at the vegetation, pulled some away, searching for the spot, remembering it was low down ...

Here it was! She yanked at the creepers, then lifted the section of fence to reveal a gap, big enough to crawl through. She grinned at Rose and said, ‘After you.’

‘Rose,’ Emma said. ‘Wait . . .’

But it was too late. Rose had pushed her way through and now stood on the other side, taking a few steps up a steep slope.

Now Emma looked pissed off. ‘Rose, get back here. You can’t ...’ She turned to Fiona. ‘What is this place? It must be private property. This is trespassing. Did you cut this hole in the fence?’

‘Stop stressing,’ Fiona said. ‘The company that owned this place went bankrupt during the pandemic. It’s public land now.’

Emma looked sceptical, as well she might. As far as Fiona knew, ownership of this land had passed back into the hands of the local council. Though didn’t that mean it belonged to the people?

‘I just want you to see it,’ Fiona said. ‘Come on. We’ve come all this way.’

Tutting, Emma put her hands on her hips. ‘I’m not happy about this. I’m going in there to get Rose and then we’re heading back.’ She crawled through the gap, complaining about the dirt as she went, then stood and called for Rose, who had disappeared from sight.

Fiona watched Emma climb the bank, still shouting her daughter’s name, then scrambled up after her.

Emma had caught up with Rose and they were standing at the crest of the slope, looking at the huge, crumbling building before them, with its half-collapsed roof and smashed windows and peeling paintwork and the ivy creeping up the red brick. As they stared, a pigeon emerged from one of the windows and flew into the trees. The once-pristine lawn was a tangle of weeds and knee-high grass. The front door hung off its hinges. And the sign that readRavenhillwas thick with moss, obscuring most of the letters.

‘What the hell is this place?’ Emma asked.

A beatific smile lit up Fiona’s face.

‘Home,’ she replied.

37

The long-closed-down Ravenhill Psychiatric Hospital – the very name sent an icy cascade of goosebumps across my flesh – was located in Essex, on the outskirts of Epping Forest. Again, as the crow flies it wasn’t too far, but with London traffic it would take about an hour to get there, less if I broke the speed limit – which I intended to do, as aggressively as possible, as getting points on my licence was the least of my concerns.

‘Are you okay?’ I asked Dylan as we headed back into the traffic.

‘Yeah.’

His voice and the paleness of his face betrayed how he really felt. He looked so sick with fear that I wished I didn’t have to bring him with me, but what choice did I have? He was in no fit state to be dropped at a train station and told to go home. Besides, two members of my family were missing; I didn’t want to risk losing another one.

Again, I wrestled with the idea of going to the police and handing everything over to them. But Lucy’s words about Rose getting into trouble rang in my ears. Besides, I knew I would have to persuade the police to act – that they’d want to talk to me at length, and that it would take ages for them to mobilise.

There was no time for that.

‘Fiona Woodfield,’ I said. ‘Can you look her up on your phone? See if there are any news stories about her?’

I thought there must be, if she had been in prison with Lucy – and I was right.

‘Oh my days,’ Dylan said. He had found something immediately. A news story from four years ago.

‘She was done for will fraud,’ he said, quickly scanning the article and summarising it for me. ‘The prosecution said she formed a fake friendship with this wealthy elderly lady, moved in with her and persuaded her to change her will. She was sentenced to three years in prison after pleading guilty.’

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