Forgotten (35 page)

Saul grabbed
my arm. There was nothing gentle about it or in the way he spoke.
“Claudia, stop; don’t do this.”

I shook my head. “I have to.”

“
No, you
don’t,” he bellowed. And for one brief, weird second, my thoughts
digressed and I wondered if I had unintentionally ruffled him
again. I battled off the next round of fresh tears. “Saul, I’ve
come this far, so please… yes I do.”

He grimaced
and then slackened his hold. I broke away and continued.

“
Soon I
imagined that everything was turning black, the walls, the
furniture, even the air around me, until I became black along with
it. I remember willing it to swallow me whole and then I remembered
nothing.

About a week
later, my Aunt Lia turned up. My family was worried. And rightly
so. They hadn’t heard from me and I
lived
so far away. The rest? I only know through Lia. She found me
sprawled on the bloodstained bed, wrapped in Simon’s already worn
clothes, cuddling them, smelling them, muttering his name over and
over.
I didn’t even recognize
Lia
.”

Saul shot up
fast. “Fuck this, Claudia. Give yourself a break, even if just for
a minute?”

My aching, miserable body was ordering the
same. Saul cradled me and I wept freely. It felt so good; my
constricted chest loosened, my stiff muscles relaxed. And when I
stopped, I noticed that once again, I managed to mascara-stain
another of Saul’s shirts. “This is becoming one very nasty habit,”
I joked.

“
One I can
live with,” Saul said, seriously. “So, how did Lia help
you?”

“
She called
for an ambulance and escorted me to the nearest hospital. I was
treated for everything from dehydration to severe depression. When
I was semi-back on my feet, medicated to the hilt, Lia convinced me
to return home. That’s when I went under the care of Dr.
Cruikshank.”

“
And your
dreams returned along with your watchers.”

“
Yes, very
much so. I understood that many of my symptoms, at the time, were
classic Post Traumatic Stress, but as I told you already, I
couldn’t convince Cruikshank that the dreams weren’t, that I’d had
them since childhood, nor the fact that I wasn’t paranoid; that I
did
have watchers. He just tacked them
with my other symptoms.

In time, I
went along with whatever he said. I was just too weak to fight it.
Anyway, it was Mel and Lia, who encouraged me to get off the meds
and return to teaching. Once I had, they helped me get a place of
my own… my
Zephyr unit.”

“
So, seeing
Simon today or thinking you saw him must have been….”

“Gut wrenching. He seemed so real; the whole
thing seemed real. I don’t understand what I experienced. But, he
kept insisting that I ask this question, and that the answer would
give me something important.”

And it had.

“You see, much about Simon’s death was kept
from the media, you know regarding the flowers and stuff.”

“Makes sense. So you’re wondering how was
today’s killer aware of such detail? Sadly, Claudia, it’s possible.
If someone really wanted the details of that crime, they could get
it. It’s not difficult. I’ve done it many times.”

“But how did they know about the hands?”

Saul pulled back, held me at arm’s length.
“What are you talking about?”

“
That was
the question
; the one Simon wanted me to
ask. It was staring at me the entire time. How could whoever did
that today, have known about the hands? They were crossed, right
over left, directly above the heart.” I copied the exact movements
with my own hands.

“Same as Simon.”

“
Yes, but
you see,
only I could’ve
known that.
”

I didn’t
wait for Saul’s why.

“
I was the
one who opened Simon’s arms wanting to lie close to him. That’s how
the police found me. I never told them about the original position
of his hands; I’ve never told anyone; you’re the first.”

Saul’s fingers flew to his forehead and
began rubbing. Several seconds passed. “You know what this means,
don’t you?”

Of course, I
did. “That Simon’s murderer and the person responsible for Souza is
the same person, most likely responsible for Alice and Iacovelli as
well. That it wasn’t some ritual killing but something much bigger,
something to do with me, my past.”

I closed my eyes, felt as if I had just lost
a mass of unwanted weight. Guilt hung on, though, not as strong,
not as tenacious but enough to make its weighty presence felt.
After all, broken lock or not, Simon was still killed because of
me.

Silence
reigned; I could almost hear Saul’s brain connecting the dots. In
time, he dropped his head and caught my eyes. “None of this is your
fault, Claudia. If someone was that determined to get to Simon,
he’d have found a way. And from what you have told me about Simon,
the last thing he would’ve wanted is you blaming
yourself.”

I knew that
now, especially after today and told Saul so. With a freshly
cleansed soul, exhaustion swept through me. I fell into Saul like
an old, ‘stringless’ puppet.

“Come on… bed,” he said.

“
I want to
help you… Ethan….” I could scarcely thread my words
together.

“Want to really help me? Then get a good
night’s sleep. Be strong for tomorrow.”

We both stood but I still had one more thing
to tell him.

Milo’s message.

I gave Saul a brief account of it.

“Still on your phone?”

I released an almighty yawn and nodded.

“
We’ll study
it later.” He guided me along the soft, sandy trail, towards
Annie’s dimly lit cottage and through its welcoming back door. As
we did, I told Saul that I had made Simon a promise, one that this
time I was determined to keep.

“What promise was that?” he asked.

“That we’ll find whoever did this to
him.”

“
Of that I’m
certain. It’s my promise to you.”

We entered a bedroom at the far end of the
house. I lay down on the bed, falling into the countless soft
pillows, drawing in the calming aromas. “Stay,” I said.

Saul stretched out next to me. I nuzzled
into him and began to fall into that precious place of slumber that
I so desperately needed.

But not before hearing Saul whisper, “I’ll
be here when you wake up, my beautiful lady.”

December 28, 2010

2:12
am

“
YOUR BOYS
IN cyber space have been busy,” Ethan said, swinging on the back
legs of Annie’s dining chair. Fortunately, for Annie and the chair,
it was constructed from strong, reclaimed timber.

Reardon
readjusted the chair’s cushion before sitting next to Ethan and
wondered if the cushion originated from something recyclable as
well. It certainly wouldn’t have surprised him.

He rested
his injured arm on his lap; his foot on his alternate knee and
leaned back. Dimmed, recessed lighting illuminated much of the open
living area and, similar to the rest of Annie’s charming house, it
smelt of endless tranquility. Reardon absorbed it, along with the
air’s salty taste and the steady, rhythmic whir of the ceiling fan
above. “So, what did you find out?”

Ethan scraped his chair softly against the
timber flooring as he shuffled towards the table. On it sat
Reardon’s sleeping laptop, a ceramic bowl full of fresh white and
yellow frangipanis and two mugs of hot coffee. “Quite a lot, in
fact. Spent some serious hours getting this shit together while you
were busy playing Romeo and the unfortunate, winged hero.”

Reardon knew
Ethan would’ve loved every information-gathering, puzzle-solving
second of it. “I appreciate it,” he said.

“
Yeah, you
better, mate. Gave up one hot, one very exclusive chick tonight.”
He slowly shook his wrist and whistled. “Francesca. Her name alone
brings unhealthy pictures… makes me want to….”

“Got the idea, Ethan. Now, can we move
on?”

Ethan tossed
Reardon a sharp salute. He then jiggled the computer back to life.
“Shit, one clipped wing and you beco
me a
seriously pushy bastard.”

Reardon
grinned, studied the light-colored wall directly opposite him while
he waited. It was bare except for a set of five, antique prints.
Each depicted various botanical wildflowers, their intense,
sun-drenched colors so typical of Annie.
Love at first sight
, she had
said to him with that perpetually cheerful voice of
hers.

And so he had bought them for her.

Ethan
cleared his throat causing Reardon to swing back to him. Ethan’s
mouth curled upwards, knowingly. “Guilt gift, I call
it.”

Reardon sighed. “Well, you should know,
better than most.”

“Ouch, mate. But seriously….”

“
She knew,
Ethan. Annie knew from the start that I didn’t have the capacity
for anything more. When she wanted more….” Reardon paused, recalled
the overriding hurt on Annie’s pretty face, and he
winced.

“You had to end it, I know, mate.”

“
Couldn’
t hurt her anymore.
Anyway, that was a long time ago. Our friendship is solid and
that’s what’s important.”

“
Still, that
capacity thing of yours? Seems to be full and functioning
now.”

Reardon
stared at Ethan, took in what he was saying and then thought of
Claudia. He recalled her on the hillside earlier that day, her
lithe body moving in sync with his, her irresistible moans, the
total hunger steeping her huge, dark eyes, recalled her unexpected
gutsiness in not leaving him, at her remarkable courage and
cleverness in outsmarting the Moron. This over-protected,
fear-driven woman had completely confounded him, but more so,
touched him, deeply.

Ethan had
been right.
He hoped it wouldn’t become a
habit; a cocky Ethan he could do without.

This time
was
different.

Claudia was
different
.

And he feared it.

He, who
feared very little, feared the way she made him
feel
.

He swallowed
hard, then gestured towards the laptop. “Let’s get on with this,
ok
ay?”

Ethan nodded
and then began. “For starters,” he said, working the screen, “your
hunch about the whole Vietnam thing and our notorious little band
of gun buddies was spot on. There were six of them as you know, all
went to Vietnam, all came back.”

Reardon stretched across the table, reached
for his coffee; the mug was already cooling. “Did they know each
other before they got together?”

“Nothing to suggest it, but they certainly
became pretty tight for many years.”

“And all Italian.”

“
Or of an
Italian heritage. Not sure of the significance, possibly helped
solidify the bond.”

We look after our own.
Claudia’s
father had said.

A definite bond.

Ethan continued. “The interesting bit is
that they’d meet every month at one of those posh estates along the
Clarence River.” One more click and he turned to Reardon. “Look
familiar?”

Reardon bent towards the screen. Looming
larger than life was the almost identical picture of the house in
Claudia’s photo, along with the lions and the oversized water
fountain. “Well, what’d you know?”

“In fact, a few of your hacker comrades came
back with that one.”

“This place got a name?”

“
Yep…
Araneya.”

“Araneya Estate,” Reardon mumbled to
himself, as if it would somehow decipher their mystery. He took
several sips of his coffee and planted it back on the table.

Ethan then
went on to reveal that the estate belonged to none other than the
Macanettis
,
i.e., the well-publicized
Senator Carlos Macey. “It was his parents’ house during
their pistol meets, a Frederick and Irena Macanetti. Freddie was a
lawyer, and a fairly influential one, moved a lot in the political
circles.”

Reardon inched back in his seat. “So, why
the regular need to meet?”

Ethan shrugged. “Their Italian bond,
perhaps?”

Reardon agreed that their ethnicity played a
role, but he wondered if it was something far more significant.

Like the
Vietnam War.

A war that was like no other.

Reardon
knew, at the time, Australia
practiced
involuntary conscription of twenty-one-year-old men into National
Service. Those who actually made it to the front line were selected
according to their birthdates.

Like winning a raffle.

Their prize?

Literally thrown into the midst of a combat
jungle.

Reardon’s jaw set tight as he shook his
head. These young men, naive to war’s harsh realities, tirelessly
fought for beliefs they were unsure were theirs, witnessed some of
the worst atrocities they could imagine, and discovered that their
enemies, in many instances, turned out to be the actual women and
children they thought they were protecting.

And all this, while their peers back home
continued with their normal lives and careers.

It was as if the world had gone on without
them.