Each Day I Wake: A gripping psychological thriller: US Edition

EACH DAY I WAKE

Seb Kirby is the author of the James Blake Thriller series (TAKE NO MORE, REGRET NO MORE and FORGIVE NO MORE), the Raymond Bridges sci fi thriller series (DOUBLE BIND) and now the psychological thriller EACH DAY I WAKE. An avid reader from an early age - his grandfather ran a mobile lending library in Birmingham - he was hooked from the first moment he discovered the treasure trove of books left to his parents. He was a university academic for many years, latterly at University of Liverpool. Now, as a full-time writer, his goal is to add to the magic of the wonderful words and stories he discovered back then. He lives in the Wirral, UK.

By the same author

James Blake Series

TAKE NO MORE

REGRET NO MORE

FORGIVE NO MORE

Raymond Bridges Series

DOUBLE BIND

Seb Kirby

First published September 2015 (US Edition)

© Seb Kirby, 2015

This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the author as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author's and the publisher's rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

This eBook is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses, organizations, events and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

To
Brian, Kate and Leo

I opened my eyes.

It felt like someone else had opened them.

My lungs were on fire. Each breath a screech of pain.

This broken body, pushed almost beyond repair, wouldn’t let me move except to raise my head from the pillow and snatch a glance around before the agony of this simple action overtook me and I collapsed once more.

The room was cool and white. The light above was clinical.

Where was I?

I touched the pristine sheets.

I was in a hospital bed.

Why was I here?

How long had I been here?

I realized then that I knew the answer to none of these questions. And that there was another question I was afraid to ask.

Who am I?

He told me his name was Josh Healey and that he was a clinician attached to the Trauma Ward.

“It’s good to see you’re looking stronger today.”

“You mean you’re surprised I’ve made it.”

“Don’t think that way. But if you mean you were badly injured, close to death, then I’d have to say
yes
.”

I struggled to understand. “What happened?”

“You don’t recall?”

“There’s nothing. Nothing. Until I wake up here.”

“They pulled you out of the water, from North Dock at Canary Wharf. A near drowning.”

“Some kind of accident?”

“No, you’d been beaten, before you entered the water. That’s the cause of the bruising and swelling to your arms, chest and abdomen.” He looked away. “Best not to dwell on that now. You’ve been in deep shock. But you’re now in recovery. The coldness of the water helped, I’m sure. Slowed the possibility of neurological damage. And we’ve restored your electrolyte balance. Your prognosis is good.”

“How long have I been here?”

He looked at the chart. “Three days.”

“And where
is
here?”

He smiled to reassure me. “We’re a few miles away from Canary Wharf, in Hammersmith Hospital.”

“What was I doing there, at Canary Wharf?”

“That’s what we’re hoping you’ll tell us. Once you’re better.” He took a step back. “No need to worry about this now, build your strength, give it time.”

Then it came.

The first memory.

Clear, straight from nowhere, like a bright light piercing the darkness.

I’m seeing it, living it. It’s me, looking on, seeing myself doing all this.

I’m with a woman.

She’s young, just turned nineteen, pretty.

Cathy.

Smart, sexy.

We’re talking about our meeting in a pub and how I brought her to this place.

This dark room with wood paneled walls covered with books.

Making love to her.

My adultery.

No, I’m not that kind of person. Not the kind to lie to my wife.

I have a wife.

I have a wife.

Yet here I am with Cathy.

Something intense. Something I don’t want to see. Something I don’t want to have to recall.

My hands round her throat, squeezing the life out of her. Watching her body go limp.

I was visited by a young uniformed police officer who sat by the bed and told me her name was Police Constable Daley. PC Daley.

She looked too young, her uniform too crisp, as if she was on her first assignment since leaving police college.

She opened a notepad and asked for my name. I took in her look of surprise when I told her I didn’t know.

“All I know is what the hospital tells me. I can’t recall anything before coming round here, in this bed, in this hospital. I need you to find what happened and who I am.”

“We’re doing everything we can to help, sir. But it may take time if you’re unable to tell us anything.”

“All I’ve been told is I was found in the North Dock, a near drowning.”

She looked back at her notes. “You were pulled out by a colleague, sir. He gave you CPD. Saved your life.”

“And it was chance that he found me?”

“Not quite. Someone called.”

“Who?”

“They wouldn’t leave a name. An anonymous call.” She paused. “We need your help to find out
how
and
why
this happened to you.”

“I don’t know the how. And before you ask, I don’t know the why. I don’t know how I ended up in the water. There’s nothing I can remember that will help you.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“ID. Did you find any ID when you rescued me?”

She stopped writing in the notebook. “That’s the thing. We found nothing. No mobile phone. No wallet or driver’s license. You were picked clean.”

“But you must have witnesses?”

“We don’t. We don’t know where you first entered the water. You could have floated for some distance before washing up where we found you.”

I began to understand why they’d sent someone this junior to take a statement. If there were no witnesses and if I was unable to provide them with any other information, the police had nothing to go on.

“So, you’re no nearer to finding who did this? Who beat me, stripped me clean, dumped me in the water?”

She made a point of staring down at the notepad once more, even though she had nothing more that needed to be added there. “We’re doing all we can, sir.”

As she was about to close the notebook, she paused. “One more thing, sir. The hospital tests showed high levels of narcotics in your blood. What do you know about that?”

Mr. Healey returned next day.

I told him again about my loss of memory. That I had no recollection of how I came to be here, that I didn’t know who I was.

He was quick to reassure me. “It’s nothing you should be concerned about. With the physical damage you suffered, it’s not uncommon for the mind shut down, to save the body, to minimize the trauma. As your body recovers, you should recall more of what happened.”

He was trying to be helpful but what he was saying was having the opposite effect. “You mean I might never recall who I am?”

He came closer and sat on the edge of the bed. “I was going to leave this for another time, when you’re stronger. You see, amnesia is not uncommon in cases like this. It may take time for you to recover your long-term memory, after all you’ve been through. But things will get better from day to day as you build a new stock of memories. They’ll be the key to allowing you to unlock the past. You recall, don’t you, being here in the hospital yesterday and perhaps the day before?”

I nodded. “But nothing about who I am, where I come from.”

His voice remained calming. “As I said, don’t worry. Take it one step at a time.”

He paused to take a call on his phone.

I could tell the call was about me from the way he kept glancing towards me as he answered.

When he’d finished he gave a broad smile. “We’ve found your wife. Janet. Janet Markland. She’s waiting outside. Do you feel strong enough to see her?”

I couldn’t wait. “Of course.”

I should have felt elated at the prospect of seeing her, the most important person in my life, but all I could feel was fear that she wouldn’t know me, that there had been some kind of mistake and I’d be back where I was, alone and unknown.

I was trying not to hope too much when she just came in and embraced me.

She was sobbing with relief. “Tom. I thought I’d lost you and I’d never see you again. It was breaking my heart.” She kissed me. “But now I have you back and I’m never going to lose you again.”

I was trying to tell myself that I knew her, that I recognized her. But the joy of this wouldn’t come. I wanted to believe. I had to believe.

I wanted to return her kiss but the pain of moving was too great. “How did you find me?”

Her voice was soft. There was a cadence in the way her voice rose and fell that I was sure was familiar to me. “The police. They matched the photo of you here with their reports of missing persons. Until then, they weren’t looking in London.”

“Where do we live?’

“In Lichfield.”

“How long have I been missing?”

“Ten days.”

“That long?”

“Don’t worry about that now. All that matters is I’ve found you.”

Janet stayed at my bedside.

When I woke from sleep in the middle of the night, she was still there, holding my hand, watching over me.

“I can’t wait ‘til you’re strong enough to come home. Where you belong.”

Another memory. Returning.

Like the first, clear, out of nowhere. I’m looking on, looking out, seeing these things I’m doing.

Am I asleep? Dreaming?

My eyes are open, staring at the overhead light.

This is no dream.

I’m with another girl. She’s telling me her name is Rebecca.

Long, slim, raven-haired. Twenty.

We’re talking about our time out on the river, on one of those boats that cruise the Thames at night. The way the moon shone, making silver rivulets on the water.

We’re happy together. She laughs. She smiles.

We’re in that dark library space.

We’re making love.

Another adultery. I’m being unfaithful to Janet again.

This can’t be me.

I feel the dread of what might happen next. What I will recall next.

I feel the chill of knowing that I will kill again.

I see the death mask of her face as I squeeze the life out of her, my hands tight around her throat. Just as with Cathy.

Watching the life leave her.