It was one of those scarce blue-sky days in Britain. Late spring, and a break in the rain had briefly banished the clouds, revealing the blue beyond. But Eve was not benefitting from it. Everything about the building she was currently encased within was grey. Or a variant of grey. The internal walls were an aged magnolia at the very best, a clinical stark white if they had been more recently decorated. It was certainly not Eve's favourite place to be. She tried her hardest to not be here very often, far preferring the location-based aspect of her work. She liked visiting her clients in situ – not that there was much of a choice for them. And yes, the colours in those places were hardly more imaginative than this, but the characters were far more stimulating. Today, however, was not a day for clients; it was a day to visit the office, to submit paperwork and collect still more of the same.
'Clients' was perhaps not the best word for the people Eve worked most closely with, but 'patients' never seemed to suit either. Eve's job was no longer to treat these people, though that had been her responsibility for years. Now, her role was to assess them, to dig deep and decide whether or not they had safely reformed. Forensic psychology. That's what they called it. It made it sound as though Eve poked around the grey matter of those already on the slab, wearing one of those awful white overalls and clinical blue gloves. But that wasn't it at all. Eve wore smart casual attire and comfortable shoes, no gloves. She didn't examine the dead, but the living. Not the expired bodies of those already gone, but the inner workings of some of the most interesting individuals that made up the human race. Well, in Eve's opinion anyway.
Eve had pushed open the heavy glass door and strode through the unusually empty reception room, down a corridor and into a side office; she'd dropped her shoulder and allowed her leather satchel to hit the surface of an unoccupied desk heavily. She sighed and pulled out the chair, turning her attention to an in-tray on the desk that was technically hers but that she rarely visited for more than a cursory half hour a week. The usual papers had been stacked for her perusal. Why couldn't these people just email her? She was fed up already and she had only just gotten in.
There were conditions of parole from the court in regards to a client for whom she had recently secured freedom, a statement of suggested further consultation for a client who had not been so ready, notes detailing upcoming changes to psychological assessment methods permissible in assault cases, a thank-you letter from the family of a client. Eve rifled through them, filing the first three into her bag for closer inspection at home, and putting the letter to one side for recycling, before thinking better of it. It contained personal details. She had better shred that one instead. She couldn't keep the numerous gratitude's that she received, so she didn't keep any. And besides, she didn't do her job for the letters of appreciation, she did it because it was her job; she was good at it, and she was paid well for it.
"Carolyn wants to see you."
A face had popped around the door of Eve's office, though there had been no knock. Eve groaned and let her head hang until her chin met her chest. The face at the door issued a chuckle.
"Right?" Came the voice, evidently relating to Eve's displeasure at the summons.
"When?" Eve asked through gritted teeth.
"Um… pretty sure she said, 'Tell Eve to get her arse into my office the minute it appears in the building'."
"She did not."
"No. She didn't. But ASAP was the general suggestion."
Eve sighed once more.
"OK. Thanks Elena."
"No worries." Elena replied and began to retreat out of the doorway, "Oh, and congrats on that flasher case. It's good to know you're helping to keep the creeps off the streets." Elena shot her a wink.
"Just doing my bit." Eve drawled, fastening the catches on her satchel.
"Who gets off on getting their knob out on busses anyway?" Elena mumbles.
"Exhibitionism is typically a trait of men who experienced neglect or abuse at a young age, those with a history of sexual preoccupation in adolescence. And in some cases it can be symptomatic of paedophilic tendencies." Eve answered as though reciting from a textbook.
"Right." Elena replied, elongating the word with raised eyebrows. "Well, have fun with the boss!"
Eve looked up and glared at Elena as she closed the office door.
Carolyn's office was the only one in the building that was bigger than Eve's. It was one of the rooms that was painted in bland magnolia and on her desk resided an orchid. White. Of course. It seemed to always be in flower, a fact so unlikely that Eve once gave in to the temptation to pinch one of its waxy leaves between her fingers, expecting to feel plastic. It was real, and the surprise must have shown on Eve's face if Carolyn's arched eyebrow was anything to go by.
The orchid was still there, and still in flower.
"Eve." Carolyn said, looking up from her computer screen and flicking her glasses from the end of her nose, letting their chain catch them. She blinked owlishly across the room as Eve entered.
"You're here. Good. Sit." She added, gesturing at the chair opposite her. Eve sat.
"What can I do for you Carolyn?" Eve asked tiredly.
"All business. As always." Carolyn said with an amused laugh, "I like it."
Eve didn't reply, just continued to look at Carolyn expectantly.
"Right. Right." Carolyn said, snatching up a pile of papers from her desk and rifling through it for a moment, squinting and then slipping her glasses back on. "New case for you. Or client, whatever you want to call it."
"I have a pretty big caseload at the moment." Eve cut in. And she was telling the truth. Eve didn't have the time or energy to take on any more cases. The workload was affecting her time with her son and husband Niko, but she knew that she wouldn't have much of a choice
"You just got rid of that bus man. He's out of your hair and off to a treatment facility, so…" Carolyn mumbled, still searching through her paperwork.
"Yes, and I have about seven other—" Eve started.
"Ah. Here it is." Carolyn exclaimed, perusing a particular file and then passing it to Eve. "Something a bit different, you'll find." Carolyn waited for eve to take the file, she knew eve had huge workload but she was the best she had. Carolyn felt that she was going to need the very best for this particular case
Eve took the file with a sigh and examined it briefly.
"This is a young offender." She said noting the facility listed as the address. She looked up at Carolyn as though she had made a mistake.
"16 to 25s." Carolyn nodded.
"I don't work with young offenders." Eve said, passing the file back to Carolyn.
"Well, now you do. It was Rebecca's case, but she's… you know…" Carolyn waved her hands around her stomach vaguely.
"On maternity leave." Eve supplied, "I know. But, I still don't work with young offenders." Eve said resolutely. Truth be told, she was trained to work with young people and had, but not for years now.
"She's 23. So she's hardly a child. And nobody else will do it. She nearly drove Rebecca to early labour. Had her in tears more than once. Useless woman." Carolyn said, her shoulders slumping.
"You make it sound so tempting." Eve replied sarcastically. God, Rebecca is useless though. Eve felt for the woman's child and it wasn't even born yet.
"She's up for parole in…" Carolyn read over the file once more, "Five months, and she's highly unlikely to get it. Just take her on for that time. I'll let you give two of your others to Frank." Carolyn bargained.
"Better…" Eve said, leaving a pause to let Carolyn know she was waiting for more.
"Says here she has psychopathic tendencies." Carolyn said with a smirk and eyed Eve knowingly as she waved the file before Eve's eyes as though temping a dog with a bone. Carolyn knew that Eve wouldn't turn it down now, she knew that Eve couldn't turn down someone that was hard to understand.
Eve considered her options.
"Fine." She relented. "But Frank is having three of my cases, that's fair." She said pointedly.
"Pleasure doing business with you." Said Carolyn, returning the file to Eve's outstretched hand.
"Whatever." Eve muttered, standing from the chair. Sometimes Eve wished she could say no to case like this but she supposed this was the reason she was so good at her job.
"Say hello to that husband of yours!" Carolyn called as Eve left the room.
One day Carolyn's job would probably be Eve's, but for now, Carolyn remained her only superior. That didn't stop Eve from putting up a fight when she wanted to though, and it had become clear early on in their working relationship that Carolyn valued Eve's talents as head forensic psychologist enough to overlook her propensity for backchat. At this stage, they understood each other pretty well. Eve had progressed quickly through her career. Not many made it to her position by the age of 38. And far fewer women than men.
Eve returned to her own office and thought for a moment. She could sit down and go through her paperwork, examine this new file with a fine-toothed comb and make some preliminary notes. But she could also do that at home. It was already gone four in the afternoon. Eve glanced at the three figures in a framed photo on her desk. It was the only personal touch to the office, and truth be known, she put it there as an afterthought. If she left now she could maybe take Leo out for ice cream and then do her work later when he had gone to bed.
Eve nodded to nobody but herself and retrieved her beige mac coat from the back of her chair and shrugged it on. She switched off her desk lamp and slung her bag over her shoulder, picking up her briefcase from the floor and heading out the door.
"Leaving us so soon?" Elena called as she caught sight of Eve strolling past her desk in reception. "That was, what? Nearly a whole thirty minutes at your desk?"
"Oh, shut up." Eve threw good-humouredly over her shoulder.
"Drinks soon?" Elena shouted back.
"God yes! I'll text you." Eve replied as she shoved her way out of the main door and into the small car park outside.
"You better!" Elena yelled, leaning forward on the desk so Eve could hear her just before the front door was sealed shut once more.
Leaving the office hadn't been the best idea after all, Eve decided as she sat in traffic for the twenty-sixth stationary minute. Driving in London also wasn't the best idea. Eve, perhaps, was good at bad ideas. When she eventually got home to her four storey town house it was gone five p.m. Eve slung her bag on the hall seat and kicked off her shoes, before placing them neatly on a rack with the others. She was constantly reminding herself to do the things she demanded her son do too. It was only fair.
"Hello?" Eve called into the silent belly of the house. There was no response.
"Leo?" She tried again, still nothing, "Niko?"
She didn't know why she bothered checking really, if Leo were home then the house would certainly not be silent. And if Leo wasn't at home, then neither was Niko.
Eve made her way into the large open-plan kitchen and bee-lined for the kettle. What she really wanted was a glass of red wine, but she was making a concerted effort not to drink in the week. It was tough. She flicked on the kettle and then stepped over to the fridge, her eyes lingering on the manically scribbled colourful pictures of rockets and horses stuck with magnets to the door. There was something new stuck there as well, a note.
Eve,
We've gone to the Ping-Pong club for a few games.
Dinner's in the oven, just turn it to 180.
N + L
Oh. That was that then. Nobody was going for ice cream this evening.
Sometimes it felt as though the rest of her family was such a boys' club. The kettle boiled behind Eve and she abandoned her search for milk in the fridge, and decided on a liquorice herbal tea instead, chucking a teabag into her mug – the one with self-portrait line drawings of Leo's year two class on it – and poured in the boiling water. There was a slight banging noise at the back door and then a sleek body twined itself about Eve's legs.
"Hey Boots. Just us girls again," Eve spoke softly to the cat at her feet. The cat offered a placating mewl in response.
"Oh, you don't care really. You just want dinner." Eve chastised with a smile.
The cat mewled again. She was a mostly black cat, small in size, with a flash of white on her chin and four perfectly symmetrical white paws. Luckily, these markings allowed friends and visitors to assume that those little white feet were the cause of the cat's name. Eve was grateful she didn't have to explain that the cat's full title was 'Pussy Boots', a name decided upon by Leo in a period of deep devotion to the Puss in Boots character in Shrek 2. That was three years ago, and Leo's imagination when it came to the name was as underdeveloped as his speaking ability. Thus, 'Pussy Boots'. Niko and Eve had howled with laughter after putting Leo to bed that night, and then promptly decided to refer to the cat as simply 'Boots'.
Eve retrieved Boots' bowl from the floor by the backdoor and replenished it with biscuits. Quick as a flash, Boots was done with her affectionate moment and the kitchen was filled with the sound of her crunching biscuits and pushing them about her bowl.
Eve rolled her head from one shoulder to the other in an attempt to relieve some of the tension in her neck. It was almost always there these days. She twisted the oven dial to 180 and then settled herself at the large, scrubbed oak, kitchen table. She threw on her black-rimmed glasses and spread her newly acquired case file in front of her, blowing some of the steam from her tea.
Skim reading the first page, Eve noted the location of this client. She had been correct earlier, it was a young offenders institution, not the highest of security but still home to some rather violent individuals. It would be a forty-minute drive for each visit, minimum, longer at rush hour. Carolyn had been nearly correct with the age. The client was almost twenty-three.
Oksana Astankova. Eve read. Unusual name. It sounded Russian, though the case file offered no confirmation of that. It would be unusual, but not unheard of. There were plenty of non-native inmates at adult institutions but the percentage decreased in younger offenders. The case file was flimsy at best, offering very little personal information beyond the name, location and birthdate of the client. There was a photo on the second page. A mugshot. And it showed a young face, fifteen at the most, with flat, lifeless eyes. Often they looked lost, Eve mused, when they were young and suddenly incarcerated, but not this one. This one seemed disinterested in the situation she had found herself in, resigned to her fate. Cold. Without remorse. Thought perhaps Eve was reading too much into the poor quality photograph.
Eve took a sip of her tea and turned the page. Here was the box that detailed the initial crime.
Boots chose this moment to leap nimbly onto Eve's lap and rotate once before settling herself, purring softly and pawing at Eve's thigh, catching her claws every so often in the fabric of Eve's trousers. Eve stroked the cat idly as she read through the report.
The incident had happened just under eight years ago. It had involved the individual's stepfather – which potentially explained the Russian sounding name – and…
Eve only just managed to avoid choking on her tea
The victim was discovered deceased at the family home. Cause of death was ruled as severe blood loss, due to mutilation. Eve's client had mutilated her foster father. She had mutilated his genitals and then she had…
Well, Carolyn had said this was something a bit different.
"Jesus." Eve breathed.
Eve had to read the file again to be sure, but the facts were the same on the second reading. This was extremely unusual behaviour. Eve had heard of similar case studies, but very few of them, and she had never experienced anyone with such tendencies in her own work. In fact, she had always suspected that those case studies were fabricated for shock factor or to push psych students to the limits of their understanding. Yeah, no wonder Carolyn said that winning parole for this one would be highly unlikely. Highly unlikely was putting it mildly. This was a lost cause.
Why had this girl not been Eve's from the start? The idea of Rebecca poking about in this case was ridiculous. It was far above her capabilities. Even with the less than slim chance of parole, this kind of thing was Eve's dream, and likely her nightmare too if the look in Oksana Astankova's eyes was anything to go by.
The tension in Eve's neck felt as though it had increased exponentially since she sat down at the table. Sure, she had managed to chuck a couple of her more annoying clients at Frank, and he certainly deserved that, the dick swab. And what had she got in return? Something fascinating, without a doubt. But Eve suspected this Oksana Astankova must be a difficult customer, likely to give Eve more than one headache. What an intriguing character though. That would just have to outweigh the trouble Eve was bound to be faced with. It was only for five months. At the end of five months, they would lose their appeal for parole and Eve would be free of the hassle, but with added great insight into another complicated mind.
Well, Eve did specialise in psychopathy and this, at a glance, was ticking those vital boxes.
Eve heard keys in the front door lock and slammed the cardboard file cover shut, placing her mug over it as though to keep the vivid imagery at bay.
"We're back!" came a high-pitched yell from the hallway, closely followed by noisy footsteps racing towards the kitchen.
"Hello sweetheart," Eve smiled as a blur of six year old entered the room.
"I won three games and Tata only won one!" Leo cackled, bounding over to Eve and causing Boots to shoot out of the way, her claws digging in painfully as she propelled herself from Eve's lap. The cat was swiftly replaced by Leo, who almost knocked the air from Eve's lungs as he flung himself into her arms.
"Well, you are the Ping-Pong champion." Eve nodded in mock reverence, smoothing a hand over her son's head.
"No!" Leo said, pulling back and shaking his head dramatically. "All time champion!" he corrected vehemently.
"Of course." Eve agreed, "All time Ping-Pong champion. My mistake."
Leo nodded and puffed his chest out proudly as Niko entered the room with a bag of shopping.
"Good day?" He asked, leaning down to kiss the top of Eve's head, his prickly moustache catching on a few strands of Eve's hair as he straightened up again.
"Yeah." Eve replied, "Well. An interesting day." She amended, her eyes flitting to the copper coloured pan set that hung on a rack above the kitchen island. Niko made a disinterested hum in response and asked no further questions as he pulled open the door to the oven and surveyed the cooking contents with a nod.
Eve wrapped her arms around her son's waist as he leant back precariously in her lap and twisted one finger – one slightly sticky finger – into her hair, chatting animatedly at her about his latest sporting victory. Eve was listening, of course she was listening, but her gaze drifted over her son's shoulder to settle on the closed case file on the kitchen table.
