Dead Man's Eye

CHAPTER 22

Joanna stared at the countryside as they sped along the road in Stephen’s car.

With the name and address of the other cornea recipient in their possession, she had decided they should talk to her, hoping that she could back up Joanna’s story. They still had plenty of time before midnight, and if the woman could help in any way – if she had seen anything unusual – then it would help strengthen their case, perhaps proving that Joanna wasn’t going mad.

The silence in the car seemed like a physical presence, a wall that split the vehicle in two. The blur of trees and hedgerows flashing by made her feel sick, so she closed her eyes for a moment.

The other cornea recipient’s name was Margaret Jones, and she lived in a small town about an hour’s drive away, probably a lot less the way Stephen was driving.

“Slow down,” she said. “We don’t want to get stopped for speeding.”

Stephen eased off the accelerator. “Sorry. This is just doing my head in.”

“How do you think I feel?”

Stephen put his hand on her knee and squeezed. “We’ll get through this. I promise.”

Joanna wished she could believe him, but the way things were at the moment, she didn’t see how they could get through it at all.

The countryside eventually gave way to urbanisation, trees making way for sprawling housing estates that all looked alike, a Minotaur’s labyrinth of concrete and brick.

With the aid of the car’s GPS system, Stephen navigated a path through the maze, the woman’s monotone voice informing him when to turn.

Joanna chewed her fingernails as they neared their destination; her heart drumming. What if the woman wasn’t in? What if she was? Would she be able to corroborate Joanna’s story? Or would she think she was mad?

Only time would tell.

When they arrived at the address, Joanna stared at the semi-detached house. The windows needed a lick of paint, and the front garden looked unkempt, the long grass almost devouring assorted playthings that protruded from the foliage like long lost relics. The once white pebble-dashed walls were now covered in grime. A basketball hoop hung from the building alongside the small carport, in which an old mini sat parked on house bricks, surrounded by a corona of rust that had bled into the algae-covered slabs.

“Well this is it,” Stephen said.

Joanna interlinked her fingers and placed them before her lips. “If she’s in, what do I say?”

Stephen shrugged. “I guess you just have to come straight out and ask if she’s seen anything, you know, unusual.”

“What if she thinks I’m mad?”

“Then we leave. There’s nothing else you can do.”

Joanna exhaled slowly. The whole situation seemed beyond belief, even to her, never mind someone else. Steeling herself, she opened the door and stepped out of the car. A cool wind whipped around her body, making her shiver. Stephen joined her, and together they walked up the drive.

Joanna licked her lips, rang the bell, then stood tapping her foot as she waited.

After a moment, she rang the bell again before stepping back to see if she could spot any movement through one of the windows.

“I don’t think anyone’s in,” Stephen said.

“There’s got to be.” She stepped forwards and rang the bell again, keeping her finger on the button.

The door suddenly opened. “Where’s the fire?”

A middle-aged woman with brown hair streaked with grey stared at Joanna impatiently. She had a heart-shaped face and pinched lips that gave her an intense demeanour, especially when combined with brown eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“What do you want?” the woman asked. In the background, a baby was crying.

Joanna cleared her throat. “Margaret Jones?”

“Yes, why, what is it?”

“I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.”

Margaret’s frown hardened. “Sorry. Haven’t got time.” She started to close the door.

Stephen jammed his foot in the gap. “Just wait a minute. This is important. Hear her out.”

“Look, I don’t know what you’re selling, but get your foot out of my door before I call my husband.”

Joanna noticed Margaret wasn’t wearing a ring, but she didn’t mention it. No need to antagonise the woman. “We’re not selling anything. I just need to ask you a few questions about your cornea transplant.”

The woman’s expression changed from suspicion to slight alarm. “How did you know about my transplant? Who are you?”

“I’ve got the other cornea.” She pointed to her eye. “I just want to ask you if you’ve had any problems since the transplant. Have you seen anything… strange?”

The woman scowled. “What do you mean, strange? How did you find me?”

“Strange like shadows that shouldn’t be there.”

The woman shook her head, but Joanna saw something in her expression, a hint of fear that implied she was lying.

“Please, it’s important.”

The sound of the baby crying grew louder and Margaret glanced back into the house. “Look, I need to go. I can’t help you.”

“You have to help us,” Stephen said.

Margaret glared at him. “Look, I’ve got enough problems of my own, now if you don’t mind.” She glanced down at his foot and pushed the door on it again.

Stephen looked at Joanna, and she nodded before looking back at Margaret. “We’re sorry to trouble you. Stephen, let’s go.”

“But Jo-”

Joanna grabbed Stephen’s arm and pulled him away.

“What did you do that for?” he asked.

“We can’t force Margaret to help us.”

“But she knows something. I can tell.”

Joanna shrugged. “Whatever. It’s just you and me now.”

“Then we should come clean. Tell her everything we know. We need her to help.”

Joanna shook her head. “By doing that we might put her in danger.”

“So what? Everyone’s in danger at the moment.”

“Maybe, but we haven’t got time to stand and argue with her.”

Stephen rolled his eyes.

“We’d better head back,” Joanna said. She glanced at the house, saw Margaret staring at her from the downstairs window. Whatever happened now, they were on their own.