Cold Deception (9 page)

Nessa said nothing but her face drained of color. Lots of awful, abusive people had been in Nessa’s life, but she hated no one like she hated O’Reardon. But she kept going back. As soon as she got out, Nessa would always end up back at Katoomba trading sex for drugs from him. From the man who’d hurt her the most.

The same man who stood in front of Julia watching her, his eyes giving nothing away.

“Long time no see, Julia. Very different circumstances now, hmm?”

She said nothing and continued to watch him.

“You had a lot to say to Gary just then. Not anymore?”

She stared at him.

He smiled and gestured to a chair. “Sit.”

She eyed it and stayed where she was.

“I said sit.”

Randle pushed her onto the chair where she sat and gazed up at O’Reardon.

“Wait outside,” O’Reardon said to Randle. “Julia and I need a private talk.”

Randle frowned like a school boy deprived of sweets and dragged his feet as he left.

“Now. I know you know a lot of my customers and because of that, certain information has come your way. Am I right?”

She shifted in the chair and said nothing.

“Unlike all the other women who get out of jail and end up here, looking for some product, you remain pure as the driven snow. Don’t get me wrong, I admire that. God knows, if I had to spend ten years in jail for something I didn’t do, I’d be into the smack like nobody’s business.”

Julia reared back as if he’d punched her again.

“What? What do you mean?”

“Oh, oops. I forgot. No one was supposed to know that. Especially not that sweet, rather troubled young sister of yours.”

He started to walk slowly around the chair, then bent over so his mouth was just at her ear.

“Terrible if she found out what really happened wouldn’t it? The guilt. The realization that Father Pat had another victim no one knew anything about. Except her sister. She’s not traveling very well at the moment is she?”

“I… I don’t know what you mean.” Julia could taste copper in her mouth where she’d bitten the inside of her cheek. He couldn’t know. No one was there.

“Yes, you do Julia. You know what happened that day. Father Pat was a computer geek, remember? That’s how he groomed all those poor kiddies. He had it all recorded on DVD. Nasty slug. Your sister did the world a favor. Do you want me to tell her?”

Julia bent over gasping, her head between her knees, trying to get breath into her lungs.

“But it wasn’t just what happened to him on the DVD.” His smooth, velvety voice pounded into her skull. “No, indeed. Your sister killed him for exactly the reason you assumed all those years ago. It’s all on the DVD. Do you think she should see it? See what happened to her all those years ago?”

She sat up and glared at him. “What do you want?”

He lightly brushed his fingers against her brow, then let them slide down the side of her face to her neck. She tensed as he flipped open one button, then another on her shirt. He stroked the curve of her breast, but with a regretful sigh, stepped away from her.

“Not much. Just silence.”

“But I told Randle I wasn’t going to say anything,” she said as she quickly re-buttoned her shirt. “I don’t want to be part of anything to do with drugs or jail. Why go through all this? Why do this to me?”

He smiled his movie star smile.

“I’m a business man. I need all my bases covered and you are unfinished business. I don’t like unfinished business.”

She stood and faced him. “I need to go home now. My family will wonder where I am.”

“So we have a deal?”

She nodded, not looking at him.

“Excellent. I’ll get Randle to return you.”

She made for the door, then turned back. “This wasn’t just about unfinished business was it?”

He smiled at her. “Perhaps not. Sometimes I miss the old days.”

Nessa sat on the bench at the bus stop opposite the gates of the Chadbourne Hotel. She pulled the hood of her sweatshirt up over her head and let her hair fall in her eyes. Randle’s silver four-wheel drive slid down the driveway and out onto the street. Julia. She was sure Julia was in the back seat.

Fury boiled in Nessa’s blood. The only reason Julia would be visiting O’Reardon was if he demanded it. Now she was out he probably wanted to show her who was boss. Wasn’t that what he always did?

She closed her eyes and let her mantra run through her head.
This too will pass.
The craving clawed at her gut, but she would not give in. She’d got off the gear in the last three- month lagging she’d done and hadn’t had a taste since she’d got out. She wouldn’t ever again. After ten years of chaos she’d come to understand the reason why she continually fucked up had to do with Angus O’Reardon.

She grimaced. Julia would tell her she was deluding herself, that she had choices, she just had to choose what was best for her. Nessa knew she was right. She could put her life behind her, put the foster homes, the sexual abuse, the drugs, all behind her and start afresh. Get herself together and prove to the authorities she could have at least some contact with her kids.

At the thought of her babies, the craving reared up more ferocious than ever, pulling at her to make a short trip to any number of her ‘friends’. She could get some stuff easily. Her legs started twitching and she shifted on the bench. No. No more. She had a plan and needed to carry it through.

She stood and made herself wobble. Most people would see a bombed-out junkie who should be off the streets, not making a nuisance of herself in front of a popular tourist area opposite Katoomba’s grand hotel.

Crossing the road, she entered the pub next to the Chadbourne Hotel’s driveway. The guy behind the counter eyed her suspiciously, probably wondering how long it would take before he’d have to call the cops. She ignored him and went to the ladies room. Pushing the hood off her head, she peered at herself in the mirror. Clear eyes and clear skin. Rummaging in her bag, she pulled out a brush, a tube of mascara, an eyeliner pencil and a hair clip. She quickly made herself presentable, twisting her wheat-colored hair up and circling her green eyes with makeup, making her look vaguely exotic.

She pulled down the zip of her hoodie just to reveal a hint of breast covered by the black lace of her camisole. He liked her like that. Cheap and slutty. He liked all his women like that. A man who could pay for the best still preferred blowjobs from drug fucked crims who begged him for stuff. She’d done it herself countless times since that first night in the cells. He’d raped her then, but he didn’t need to after that. She’d been more than willing to do whatever he wanted as long as he gave her what she wanted. Heroin, ice, pills. He had them all and was generous after a good fuck.

She stared at herself in the mirror. She’d never had sex with him while straight. Hell, she’d never had sex with anyone without drugs. Nausea burned in her throat. She had to do it again. Everything depended on convincing him she was the same old Nessa out to score.

It shouldn’t be that difficult. Everyone said he was a good fuck. If she could just concentrate on that and block out everything else, maybe she could get through it. The problem was the thought of him touching her made her want to throw up. She had to get a grip.

The door of the ladies room slammed open.

“What are you doing in here?” the guy behind the counter snarled. “Don’t make me have to call the cops.”

“I’m not doing anything. Just some repair work. A girl has to look her best.”

He grunted at her and had the grace to look abashed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to offend you.”

“No offence taken.” She patted his arm. “I’m going for a job interview. How do I look?”

He grinned. “Like a million dollars. Knock ’em dead.”

She smiled.

That’s exactly what she planned to do.

*

Julia sat stiff and silent in the back of the four-wheel drive as Randle drove back down Leura Mall. He stopped where they’d picked her up and she scrambled out, slamming the door behind her.

“Don’t forget, now,” he yelled at her. “Be a good girl.”

She ignored him and turned toward home. After a few steps she stopped, bent over, and threw up in the gutter. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she saw the lemon tree in the front garden of a house on the other side of the road still with a few late season fruit. Crossing the road, she looked around her and at the house. Looked like a holiday let. The grass was long and it had a deserted air. She walked down the driveway and quickly pulled a lemon from the branches.

Feeling more like a criminal than she had the whole time she was in jail, she made her way home, trying to block out the velvet voice of O’Reardon. As she got to the front gate, Dee and Eleanor drove up. They were laughing about something as they got out of the car. She stared at them. They were happy. After ten years of misery, life was falling into place for them. They’d even talked about traveling again, something they hadn’t considered while she was inside. She knew even though her mother couldn’t bring herself to visit her often, that their lives had been on hold all that time.

She wouldn’t let anything interfere with their new found contentment. Not O’Reardon, not Blossom, not the demands of Dylan.

Dee noticed her standing at the gate and smiled. “What are you doing there? Just get home?”

Julia shook herself out of her reverie and held up the lemon. “Just needed a lemon.”

“You didn’t buy it did you? There’s a tree on one of the houses on Leura Mall. The owner lives in Sydney. Doesn’t mind us helping ourselves.”

Julia laughed, sounding even to her ears like the laughter of the doomed.

“And there I was, feeling guilty for nicking a solitary lemon.”

She felt Eleanor’s sharp gaze on her.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. Quite the contrary. I’ll make dinner and tell you about this amazing woman I met today. She wants me to do some designs for her.”

She continued chattering about Larissa as they walked up the path and into the house, hoping they couldn’t hear her forced cheerfulness. Finally, her mother’s concern dissipated as Julia injected more enthusiasm into her voice.

“Well, that’s a great contact,” Dee said. “We can have a look at your designs after dinner.”

Julia went into the kitchen and placed the lemon on the bench. She poured herself a glass of water to get rid of the foul taste in her mouth.

Later. She’d think about O’Reardon later.

*

Nessa waited till dark before she made her way up the sloping driveway of the Chadbourne Hotel. Instead of climbing the stairs of the grand old building, with the twin statues of nymphs holding lamps aloft, she diverted to the right, into the undercover parking area. Right down the back, past the parking spaces, she turned the corner and came back into the light. In front of her was a black wooden door. She knocked softly and waited, knowing the camera above her would let Angus know who she was.

The door clicked open. She stepped into a small foyer and closed it behind her. He stood at the doorway into the rest of his apartment, smiling slightly. Her heart pounded hard, just once. She had to make this work, but seeing him set off an automatic response to get stoned as fast as possible. That’s why she’d always made her way here as soon as she’d got out of jail. She could be guaranteed he’d supply whatever she needed to get off her face.

“So you’re out?” he said, in a voice that wrapped itself around her chest and pressed, leaving her breathless. He had a voice that could charm the birds out of the trees as her old ma used to say.

“Yeah,” she said, shifting from foot to foot.

“After some product?”

That was her plan but when it came to it, she found she couldn’t bring it off. She shook her head, grimly pleased at the surprise on his face.

“No. I… I wanted to let you know I won’t be around anymore. I’m off the gear and I want to stay off. But you’ve been good to me in the past and I just wanted to let you know.”

“Good to you?” He barked out a short laugh. “Yes, I suppose I have. Come in, come in. Tell me about the new you.”

She was suddenly at a loss. What was she going to do now? Her whole plan was to get close to him so she could hit him when he was vulnerable.

“Sit down.”

She perched herself gingerly on a plush couch. Many times she’d shot up and had sex with him in this room, on this couch, but now she sat and stared around her as if seeing it for the first time. It was weird. It was as if his two main interests in life, business and sex, were catered for in one large comfortable space.

His desk was in one corner of the room and looked like the control deck of some out-of- this-world spaceship. A sleek aluminum and glass computer sat in the center, surrounded by leather office trays filled with papers, and what looked like an expensive fountain pen casually resting on more papers. Tasteful wooden filing cabinets lined the wall behind the desk. No tacky metal ones for him.

On her side of the room, the couch she sat on was enormous. Two people could easily lie stretched out with comfort, and in the past had. A glossy coffee table stood in front of it. Off to the side was a matching sideboard that contained a small refrigerator stocked with a vast array of alcohol.

He extracted a bottle of champagne then sat next to her.

“Want some?”

She shook her head.

“Come on. For old time’s sake. We need to celebrate this part of your life.”

“Not a good idea. I need to stay off everything.”

She sat and avoided his eyes while sensing him studying her. When she finally met his gaze he had a look of puzzlement on his face. And something else. Something that set a thin slide of triumph sliding down her spine and prickling her skin. He wanted her.

“Where are you staying?”

“Up at the hotel on the highway.”

“That doesn’t sound like fun.” He paused as if thinking something through. “Why not stay here?”

She did a mental double take. “Here? With you?”

“Sure. Why not? It’s a big apartment. It’s got more bedrooms than I ever need or use. Just until you get back on your feet.”

His gaze rested on her like a carrion bird waiting for the best moment to strike.

“In exchange for what?” she said, not wanting to look too keen.

He shrugged. “We used to have a good time. We still could. I seem to recall you didn’t mind that part of our relationship.”

Hot, searing, fury blasted through her. If she had any means to obliterate him now she would. But she stilled herself, took in a deep breath and smiled at him.

“That would be great.”

He sipped his glass of champagne then set it down. “Come on then, I’ll show you the rest of the place. I don’t think you’ve ever seen it have you?”

She smiled grimly as he crossed to open the door to the rest of the flat. No, she hadn’t. Drugs and sex were something he’d reserved for his office. She’d never seen or needed to see the rest of his flat. They proceeded down a small hallway with several doorways leading to bedrooms.

“The first manager of the hotel had one of those big nineteenth century families, so the flat was built to accommodate him, while the owner stayed in opulence in the main hotel. But I find I like this better. More privacy. None of the guests know I’m here.” He stopped and opened a door to a perfectly furnished bedroom in what she assumed was the style of the late nineteenth century. Not that she had a clue. A brass bed with a sumptuous quilt. A big, dark wardrobe and old fashioned dressing table. She stood, wide-eyed, taking in the luxury.

“This can be your room. When I renovated I made sure each room had their own ensuite bathrooms so you’ll have everything you need.” He paused and glanced at her body. “Got any money?”

She shook her head.

Extracting a wallet, he pulled out several fifties and handed then to her. “Get yourself some clothes and whatever else you need.”

She’d done this hundreds of times. Sex in exchange for money. That’s how she’d stayed alive in the brief times she was on the outside in the last ten years. But now something in her shrivelled and died in the act of taking the notes.

No. She would not let shame and fear rule her again. This man had hurt her and hurt her badly. He would pay and with more than just money.

“Thanks,” she said, smiling at him. “Appreciate it.”

“I’m sure you do,” he murmured. He lifted his hand to push a curl off her face and she had to steel herself not to flinch. “Perhaps you could show me how.”

This was it. This was the point where she would have to toughen up and remember her goal.

He moved his hand to the zipper of her hoody and slid it down. His eyes glittered at the sight of her black lace camisole. In a swift, rough movement, he ripped the cheap material apart baring her breasts to his gaze. Smiling, he placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her to her knees.

“You know what to do.”

She did.

*

Nessa woke up when the light hit her eyelids. She didn’t open her eyes, thinking if she could just stay in bed, cocooned and warm, everything she had to face, everything complicated and messy, would just drift away into nothingness.

But gradually her full bladder and the stiff and sore muscles of her body made her open her eyes and sit up. She winced as the ache between her legs intensified. The sensation wasn’t entirely unpleasant. O’Reardon had worked her hard. Once upon a time her drug-induced haze would’ve allowed her to join in without feeling anything much. No more. Every thrust, every hard kiss and bite was etched on her brain as well as her body.

Some part of her mind registered he was good. All the ribald talk about him from the other girls inside was true. He was a ram and he liked to fuck. Somehow that made it worse. At one point when she knew she was about to climax, she could feel panic and shame flowing through her. Thankfully, her brain gave a distinct click and she drifted off into another place, just as she did with the pills. Maybe her brain was a lot more sensible than she realized, able to protect her when she needed it.