Forgotten (39 page)

Again, I asked Ethan what was wrong. He was
staring at his black joggers. I noticed the familiar white Nike
insignia on one of them and waited for him to answer.

Saul spoke instead. He had his thumb and
forefinger pressed to the bridge of his nose. “Just tell her,
Ethan.”

I didn’t
much care for Saul’s heavy monotone or the fact that both he and
Ethan always knew shit well before I did.

“Remember Saul telling you about a Charles
Smith?” Ethan’s voice had a hard, tightened edge to it.

“The man who wanted something done to me?
Have you found out who he is?”

“
Not yet,
but I
do
know what Smith wanted Thomas Bellante to do.”

The fine hairs on the back of my neck
coiled. I bit down on my lip and prayed for numbness.

“
Smith, or
whoever he was working for, wanted you certified as mentally
unstable after Simon’s death… he wanted
you
and everyone else close
to you to believe it.”

I didn’t
know who gasped louder, Annie or me. I reeled back into the
barstool, thankful for its high back. “W… why?”

Ethan
dropped his gaze, slumped his shoulders. He appeared vulnerable,
apologetic even and I instantly felt sorry for him. “There was a
strong chance that the psych you were seeing in Sydney could have
helped you remember. Assisting patients to come to grips with their
forgotten pasts was apparently his forte. Someone didn’t want to
take that gamble. They wanted you back in Nankari under the care of
Dr. Malcolm Cruikshank.”

“
Weren’
t they
worried that Cruikshank could have achieved the same
result?” Annie asked, reiterating my own thoughts.

Ethan looked
to Annie and shook his head. “When Cruikshank wasn’t spending time
psyching patients, he spent it on his other sideline, working for
Thomas Bellante. That’s what Smith had Bellante do, convince
Cruikshank to take on the job of babysitting Claudia.”

Ethan then
swung back to me. His sun-tanned face had whitened, his normally
lively eyes, flat. “And Cruikshank did. Under Bellante and Smith’s
orders he set about making you appear so far gone, that if you ever
spilt anything you knew, it would’ve been just the ranting of a
grieving lunatic.”

There was a
sick
, bitter taste in my mouth as I tried
to process.
“So the whole time Dr.
Cruikshank was purposely convincing me that I was
crazy?”

Ethan
cleared his throat. “Worse than that, Angel. He was actually
medicating you with a drug, a hallucinogen called
Phencyclidine.”

“
PCP,” Saul
whispered. It was then that I noticed Saul rounded over, his
downturned face mere inches from his tightly clasped
hands.

“
Yep, only
small doses, but enough to accentuate the PTSD
symptoms.”

Saul groaned.

But I was
past groaning. Visions of the small girl hit me. “Did Dr.
Cruikshank know what had happened to me at Araneya?”

Ethan shook his head.

“And the watchers?”

“
Were really
there, purposely fueling your supposed paranoia. Possibly explains
why you felt that they had changed when you returned home to
Nankari.”

Numbness began to desert me, replaced by a
slow fueling anger.

“
Angel, even
the behavioral therapy you were getting was to make
you….”

I gestured Ethan to stop and jumped off the
stool. I began to pace; my fingers ached from the constant
twisting. Soon I was on the patio and then on the sand. The
scorching heat bit my bare feet. But, in some warped way, it
disturbingly helped.

Dr
. fucking
Cruikshank.

I recalled
his harsh, wiry face, his long hooked nose hovering over shrewd,
smug lips, over his ridiculous grey goatee. I recalled the many
hours we had spent together, the times I tried to convince him, the
times he tried to
convince me, the times
when it got all so horribly draining, until I couldn’t fight back
any longer.

Until I just gave in.

Just as he would have wanted.

How could I
have been so stupid, so gullible
, so
easily accommodating? My rising fury began liquefying into tears,
blinding me, as blind as I had been then. I searched the pockets of
my denim shorts, was relieved to find several tissues. I pulled one
out and blew my nose.

You were vulnerable, Claudia,
I
tried to justify.
You had
just lost the most important person in your life. Cruikshank, the
bastard, took advantage of that.

You
were the
victim.

As I so often seemed to be.

Fresh anger
churned out fresh tears.
I was fast
tiring of this victim status. I wiped the last of my tears and
headed back to Annie’s.

Saul was on
one of the swinging seats. I stopped, used a leafy bush for cover
and watched him. He had his back hunched over, his hands fastened
together. There was no doubting the disquiet on his face. I thought
back to when I told him of my vision of the girl. Afterwards,
hatred burned bright in his eyes; his muscles were incredibly tense
as he vowed that he would find the truth and those responsible
would pay. The abrupt change in him was disturbing.

With a heavy
heart, I wondered if I was good for a man like him. He who relied
on his remarkable self-control to help so many. Did I really have
the right to screw that up, as I obviously appeared to be doing? Or
was I merely over-reacting, unwittingly trying to sabotage a
relationship barely begun? I bagged the thoughts for a later date
and walked over to him.

As soon as
he saw me, his eyes widened, a smile hung off the corner of his
lips. What was it I saw? Relief? Joy? Compassion? I don’t know. But
I knew that look would forever stay etched in my mind.

When I
reached him, he grabbed both my hands. “Been another hell of a
day,” he said.

That it had.

I took his lead and settled in next to him.
“And it’s not even over yet.”

The
frightening reality of that hit me more than I would’ve
liked.

December 28, 2010

4:35 pm

“YOU OKAY?”

REARDON’S
eyes snapped opened.
The surrounding images appeared a little blurry. He blinked several
times and soon recognized Ethan staring down at him, appearing
disturbingly…
disturbed
.

Reardon
pressed a clenched fist to one side, straightened his unusually
stiff body and leaned back into Annie’s sofa. He welcomed its
silky-smooth fabric, so cooling against his hot, irritable skin.
“What happened?”

Ethan
plunged into the other end of the sofa with an emphatic swoosh
creating faint tremors along the seating. In his hand was a
half-eaten green apple. “You’re exhausted is what happened. Lack of
proper sleep, an annoyingly unwanted bullet wound, and of course,
good old emotional preoccupation. You’ve been asleep for well over
an hour. I would see that as a good thing.”

“
Is Claudia
okay?”

Ethan feigned hurt. “Of course she is. As if
I would let anything happen to her under my watch. She’s still on
the patio, still adjusting.”

Reardon rolled back his head until it found
the sofa’s headrest. He closed his eyes and only saw Claudia,
confused and shaken.

“So, how are you really feeling, my
friend?”

“Fine.”

“
Yep, can
see that.”

“Ok, fucking damn angry, then.”

“
Better. Can
I give you a small word of advice?”

Reardon sighed. “You’re so full of advice
these days.”

“
Ah, mate,
that’s because you’re so full of needing it.” Ethan crunched into
his apple. “Anyway, just hold off giving Cruickshank his just
deserts. At the very least until you’ve calmed down a notch or two.
Don’t want you doing something you may regret.”

“He deserves whatever is coming to him.” A
wealth of fitting retributions entertained Reardon’s mind, some
that even unsettled Reardon.

“
Reckon
you’
re right. But it’ll happen without
your help. The man’s dying. Lung cancer.”

Good old-fashioned karma. How Reardon loved
it. “So, where’s the bastard now?”

“
In custody.
Thought Cruickshank would be safer.”

Reardon cast
Ethan a questioning look. “If I want to get to Cruickshank, whether
he’s in custody or not….”

“
You
could, I know. But I’m
thinking more about our anonymous Mr. Smith and what a very unhappy
camper he’ll be once he learns that Cruickshank has bailed out on
him.”

For just
one, single pleasurable moment, Reardon visualized Smith with
Cruikshank. His lips curled.

“
Know that
look only too well, buddy. Remind me never to get on your bad
side.” Ethan studied the next section of apple attack. “Cruickshank
is bloody scared. Trust me, when the coppers finally arrived, he
just about dragged
them
to the police car. Whoever
this Charles Smith is, he must be one scary man.”

Reardon
thought of some of the worst
criminals he
and Ethan had stumbled across. Outwardly, many appeared your
typical, everyday nice guy. Inwardly lurked an entirely different
story. “So what else did Cruikshank tell you?”

“What we first thought. Cruikshank’s job was
to make Claudia appear unstable if she ever remembered. He has no
idea of Smith’s identity only that a couple of weeks back, Smith
told him he’d be required to take Claudia on again. Cruikshank
refused.”

Reardon
sensed fresh
anger bubble in his throat.
“What, he thinks that all will be forgiven now that he’s too sick
to carry his illegal shit on?”

“
Not sure
and don’
t care. I’m not the religious
type, as you well know. But he is seriously looking to make amends.
And I used that to my advantage.”

Reardon rubbed the back of his aching neck.
“I need a bloody run.”

“
First
sensible thing you’ve said. And throw in some of that artsy-fartsy
meditation shit you do, preferably before tonight.”

Reardon
pictured the magnificent Himalayas where he had trained, its
unbelievably precious and pristine beauty. As he saw himself run
through its virginal territory, he took in its rugged, snow-capped
mountains, smelt the first sprinkles of spring, sensed the still,
harsh cold pelt his face. Beneath his thudding feet was the
challenging, softening sludge stressing his muscles to the max; in
his overstretched lungs an intense, burning pain.

The training had been brutal.

But Reardon had never felt more alive.

He raked his
hair and fell back to reality. A continuous but subtle clatter
sounded to his right. Annie w
as busily
packing away dishes.

“
Know who
encouraged Claudia to see Cruikshank?” Ethan asked.

“Her father,” Reardon said.

“
That
couldn’
t have gone down well.”

It hadn’t. Afterwards, Claudia appeared
totally defeated. “Everything keeps leading back to that bloody
family of hers.”

“
And one
very huge, very colorful family it is.”

Reardon thought the comment curious. He
studied Ethan as he headed to the kitchen and binned the apple, as
he whispered something in Annie’s ear. Annie nodded.

“I’m thinking you went to Cabriati’s today,”
Reardon said after Ethan returned.

“
Yep.”

“And I’m guessing the place was packed with
relatives.”

“Packed is an understatement.”

“
And they
were all there because?” Reardon paused, and then shook his head.
“Of course, they were all there because that’s what the Cabriati
clan do… look after their own.”

“A relief to see your instincts are still
alive and functional.”

Reardon ignored him. “Did you speak to
Vincent Cabriati?”

“Nope.”

“But you obviously found out something
important.”

“Ooo… yes. But let’s just say it’s not a
good something.”

Could this day get any worse? Reardon
quickly reprimanded himself. Of course, it could. “Am I going to
need a drink?”

“Perhaps several, my good man.”

“Fuck this, Ethan.” The whole case was
making Reardon’s gut tangle in ways he hadn’t felt in a long, long
time. Annie appeared from nowhere with two half-filled glasses of
bourbon. Reardon caught her kindly eyes. “You know?”

Her downturned mouth was his answer. She
left an almost full bourbon bottle on the coffee table then
disappeared down the hall.

“That bad,” Reardon whispered. He emptied
his glass and then gave Ethan the green light.

“
I
recognized someone.” Ethan pulled out two folded bits of paper from
his shirt pocket. “At first, I thought it impossible. Got out my
mobile and quickly snapped a photo. Luckily I did, because within
minutes, Cabriati was onto me, and I was escorted out of there by
some pretty buffed-up guys.”

Reardon
wondered what someone built like Ethan would term a
buffed-up guy
but he let the disturbing image pass. “And?”