Hindsight (9781921997211) (25 page)

I sat there in the dark feeling small, alone and more afraid than I'd ever felt in my life. I strained my ears, trying to hear the sound of the other girl breathing. Tomorrow I was going to see her have her eyes cut out. Then he would kill both of us. A strangled cry exploded from me and I gave in; huge wracking sobs shaking me as I cried into the darkness.

CHAPTER

28

Ed woke up early Monday morning feeling jangled. The dream he'd been having was still with him. He was searching for Cass. He could hear her calling him and he kept following the sound of her voice but every time he thought he was close the voice slipped away again.

Finally he saw a woman standing at the top of a cliff. The wind was whipping her hair around her shoulders and she had her back to him. He called Cass's name but she didn't turn around so he walked up behind her. In the water a ship had run aground. He grabbed the woman by the shoulder, telling her they had to get help for the people in the water. ‘What people?' she asked and then turned around. He pulled back in shock. Instead of Cass's face it was Susan's, but where her eyes should have been there were gaping black holes.

Ed tried to banish the images from his mind. He'd had too much time to think, that was the problem. The weekend had been long and tedious. After he'd dropped Cass off on Saturday he'd gone back to the station and wandered around, trying to find something to do that made him look busy but let him keep an eye on what was going on. He resorted to checking the other stallholders that he and Phil had cross-matched earlier in the day. He looked up their addresses, registered vehicles and any other information he could find. None of them looked half as promising as the guy they had in the interview room. Still, Cass had been so certain he wasn't their guy.

By four o'clock he was finished and was starting to feel like a spare prick at a party. Only the guy with the sealed juvie record looked even slightly promising. His address was listed as a funeral home in Clifton. The business had a van and a couple of hearses registered to it but there was nothing unusual about that. He had no convictions as an adult and without knowing what he'd done as a minor there was no reason to suspect him.

Having run out of reasons to hang around he'd headed home and spent Saturday night and Sunday resisting the urge to call Phil every five minutes. The only other person he'd spoken to was Cass and that had been over in less than thirty seconds. It was time to call her again and try to rebuild burnt bridges.

It was Anita. ‘Hello?'

‘Hello Mrs Lehman, it's Ed Dyson.'

There was a slight pause.

‘Yes, Ed, what do you want?' Her voice was pleasant enough but he could hear an underlying edge.

‘I just wanted to speak to Cass. I feel bad about everything.'

‘Cass will come around, but she was disappointed that it was that other detective that called instead of you.'

‘Other detective?'

‘Yes, to ask her to come and look at pictures of possible suspects after you realised the man you had wasn't the right one.'

Ed was more than a bit surprised. He was also annoyed that he was finding out third hand that the suspect had been released. He knew he was off the case but surely Phil could've told him they'd kicked the suspect loose?

‘Was it Detective Steiner?'

‘No, it was one of those CS detectives, let me think, he did tell me his name …'

‘Detective Byrnes or Detective Rawlinson?'

‘No, neither of those, um, let me think a bit … Richards? No … Richardson! That's it! Detective Richardson.'

Who the hell was Richardson?

‘You're sure it wasn't Rawlinson?'

‘No, it was definitely Richardson. Why?'

‘Did she go to the station?'

‘Yes, he came and picked her up last night.'

‘What did he look like?'

‘Look like? You don't know him?' Worry was creeping into her voice.

‘No, I wasn't in yesterday. Did you meet him?'

‘He didn't come inside, he tooted and Cass ran out to the car.'

‘Can you go and get Cass for me please?' The knot in his belly had turned into a fist. He was trying not to worry Anita but he was gripping the phone so hard that his knuckles popped.

‘I think she's still asleep but I'll go and see.' She put the phone down with a clunk and he waited, pacing. After a lifetime she picked up the receiver again.

‘Ed, she's not there! Her bed hasn't been slept in.' She was breathing fast and he could hear the tears in her voice.

The bottom dropped out of his world. He stood there trying to comprehend what was happening. He forced himself to talk to the woman crying on the other end of the phone.

‘Anita? I need you to keep it together. I'm going straight into the station now. She's probably still there. I'll ring you as soon as I get there. It's only five minutes from my place.'

He grabbed his mobile phone and keys and ran for the door. Swearing in frustration, he threw himself into his car and drove to the station at a manic pace, screeching to a stop on the double yellow lines outside the front door. He ran into the squad room. As luck would have it the only person in was Samuels.

‘Is Phil in?'

‘Not yet.'

‘Sorenson?'

‘Same deal.'

‘The CS guys?'

‘Ditto.'

‘Fuck!'

‘Something I can help with?' Curiosity emanated from his every fibre.

‘Was there a Detective Richardson from CS here yesterday?'

‘Detective Richardson? Not that I know of. I only saw the two of them, Byrnes and Rawlinson.'

‘Did they kick loose the suspect?'

‘I don't think I'm supposed to tell you anything about the case.' Samuels smiled as he said it, enjoying the feeling of power, however small.

‘Don't be a prick, Samuels, I need to know.' The fierceness of Ed's response wiped the smile off Samuels's face.

‘They let him go yesterday.'

‘Did Cass come back last night?'

‘The psychic woman?'

‘Yes!'

‘Not that I know of. Check the visitor log.'

‘I will.' Why hadn't he thought of that? He had to get himself together. He was no use to anyone if he was running around in a blind panic.

Ed jogged down the stairs to the front foyer. He swiped into the secured area and grabbed the visitor log. Heart pounding he scanned the entries; nothing. He turned and ran to the car, dialling the Lehman house as he ran. Anita answered on the first ring.

‘Hello?'

‘Anita, it's me. She's not at the station.'

‘Where is she then? Oh God, what if —' Her voice shredded his heart.

‘Shhh, I'm going to find her. I'm not going to let anything happen to her. I'm on my way to your place now. Think back to yesterday, even the smallest detail could be important.'

The drive to Cass's house felt eternal. He battled with his inner demons the entire way; thinking about what might be happening to Cass if the killer had her, then beating back the thoughts and trying to stay positive. He had to stay positive. He couldn't let her or her family down.

It shocked him to realise that in the few short days he'd known her he'd started to feel close to her, responsible for her. He liked her and her family. He wanted time to get to know her better. The thought that she might be snatched away by the same person who had taken Susan from him flooded him with a red tide of rage so powerful that he could barely focus on the road.

He screeched into the driveway and leapt out of the car. Before he'd covered the few short steps to the front door, Gwen threw it open and rushed towards him. Her face was pale and tear-streaked. For the first time since Ed had met her she actually looked her age. She threw her arms around him and cried on his shoulder. Her grief stopped him in his tracks and he stood there, helplessly patting her back until she calmed down enough to look up at him.

‘I'm sorry, I just can't believe it. Please, Ed, you have to find her. She's our whole world.'

‘I know, I'm sorry.'

‘Come inside, we'll tell you what we can.'

He followed her inside and into the kitchen. Anita was sitting at the table, gazing sightlessly into a cup of tea. She didn't look that different but her immobility told the story. Every time he'd visited she'd been either buzzing around the kitchen or off doing something else. Not once had he seen her sitting so still. It was like someone had switched off a bright light.

‘Mrs Lehman, I'm so sorry,' he said quietly.

‘It's Anita,' she said without emotion. ‘Mrs Lehman makes me feel ancient.'

Ed sat at the table and took her hand. ‘I'm going to find her.'

Anita dropped her head and stroked his hand without speaking. After a couple of seconds her grip tightened, she placed her other hand over the top and went rigid with concentration. Ed sat there, hardly daring to breathe. If she was having a vision he hoped to hell it was a good one. Finally she looked up. Her eyes were slightly glazed but she focused on his face quickly enough. He let out a long breath that he didn't realise he'd been holding.

‘I saw flames.'

‘A fire?'

‘No, it was more like a combustion heater. No, that's not right either.' She closed her eyes and frowned. ‘It's a furnace. The place where Cass is has a furnace. You're going to go there and find her.'

‘Did you see anything else?'

She thought hard, closing her eyes again.

‘There were containers on a shelf, lots of them.'

‘What sort of containers?'

‘They were odd, some were metal. They were all pretty fancy.'

‘Were they urns? Was it a funeral home?' Ed felt a flicker of hope. The guy with the juvie record. It had to be him.

‘Could be. I don't get complete pictures, just glimpses. I don't see how that helps you though. There must be hundreds of funeral homes out there.'

‘Yes but only one where the guy who owns it also works at expos.'

‘What?'

‘I'll explain later. I know where Cass is. The sooner I get there the better.' He jumped up and was halfway to the door before Anita's voice stopped him.

‘Wait!'

He turned and looked at her.

‘It's dangerous. I saw you in pain. You need to be vigilant. Cass is depending on you.'

He nodded, not wanting to think about the risk to himself. All that mattered was finding Cass before it was too late. He ran out of the house and threw himself back into his car. He remembered the name of the funeral home. He dialled Phil's number as he started to drive.

Phil answered on the second ring. ‘Wassup?'

‘He's got Cass, Phil. It's the guy with the juvie record. I can't explain it now. I'm on my way to Jenson's Funeral Home in Clifton.'

‘Shit! Fuck, Ed, even if you're right you can't go there by yourself.'

‘I'm not waiting for backup. If I wait it might be too late. Call Sorenson.'

‘She'd tell you to wait. Shit, this guy's fucked up. You can't go in alone.'

‘Just get there as soon as you can.' He hung up.

Ten minutes later the scanner in his car chirruped into life. He expected it to be Fairfield but it was Noarlunga putting out a call. A young woman from Willunga hadn't shown up for work. She was last seen at a medieval fair on the Saturday. Ed tried to work out what it might mean. Was it possible that the killer had taken another vic as well? Surely not, just taking Cass would have kept him busy. The girl would probably turn up. Still, he didn't like it. He should call Phil and tell her. He grabbed his phone and dialled. It beeped in his ear; no signal, he was in a black spot. It would have to wait.

He turned his attention back to the road ahead, counting every kilometre that passed.
Hold on, Cass
, he pleaded silently,
I need you to be strong and survive
.

CHAPTER

29

I spent the night alternating between despair and bitter anger. My wrists and ankles were raw and bleeding from struggling. The one small victory I'd had was to force the gag out of my mouth with my tongue and teeth and by worrying it on my shoulder. There was something to be said for slippery, clean hair.

Every so often I called out softly to the girl lying on the table. I wanted her to know she wasn't alone; small comfort that must have been, given that I couldn't do anything to help her. I cried so much that I was hoarse and every blink of my eyelids felt like sandpaper. I lost track of time. I was exhausted, my head was pounding and the stabbing pain behind my eyes was excruciating.

Despite everything, I eventually fell asleep. I don't know how long I was out but the next thing I knew a loud noise woke me and I lifted my head, groaning at the pain. Then a different type of pain hit me. My bladder was so full I would wet my pants if I didn't use the toilet soon.

‘Good morning, Cassandra. I see you've managed to remove your gag. That was naughty of you.'

His voice brought all the events of the night rushing back.

‘Don't make me remind you of your manners again.' He walked around in front of me and smiled. There was no mirth in it.

‘Good morning,' I mumbled.

‘That's better, manners are important. If you are going to have breakfast with me and Ginny, I expect you to be on your best behaviour.'

‘Can I use the toilet?'

‘What do we say?'

I recognised the tone. It was the one every parent used with their toddler. It was so surreal I could hardly comprehend it. Here was a man who had killed so many women, worrying about whether or not I said please.

‘Please?' I whispered.

‘Yes, you may. I'm going to undo your wrists and ankles but before I do I want you to understand something. How I treat you and Lucy is in your hands. If you try to run away, if you try to hurt either me or Ginny, I will kill you both as slowly and painfully as I can. Understand?'

‘Yes.'

‘Good.'

He bent down to undo the ties around my ankles. He walked around behind me and did the same with my wrists. The rope was stuck to my flesh and as it came away it left raw, oozing wounds. Trying to flex my hands or feet caused sharp stabbing pins and needles. I struggled out of the chair. He pushed me in the direction of the stairs. I glanced over at Lucy. I'd been wondering why the effects of the drugs hadn't worn off, now I could see. He had her hooked up to a drip. She was lying there, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. I hoped she wasn't aware of what was happening to her.

I stumbled the short distance to the stairs. I could see the room better now that I was standing. It was a basement. The steel table with Lucy was in the middle of the room. The wall on the right had a large metal door and some kind of electronic control panel with gauges and buttons.

He made an impatient noise and nudged me to keep walking. I recoiled from the contact and moved slowly forward. Feeling still hadn't returned to my feet and I felt like I was walking on blocks of cold meat. I slowly made my way up the stairs. Eventually I made it and I pushed the door open and stepped into a kitchen.

‘Toilet is through that door. Remember, don't try anything silly. There's no way out of here. All the doors are deadlocked and the windows have security bars on them.'

I shuffled over to the door he'd pointed to and for a few minutes all I could focus on was the blessed relief. That done, I looked around the small cubicle; it had one small window, with bars on the outside. That was it. Taking a deep breath I stepped out. He was waiting for me, standing casually by the kitchen table in the centre of the room. On the table was a neat pile of clothes, a hairbrush, a cosmetic bag and a towel.

‘Ginny doesn't get much female company so I want you to look your best. Through that door is a bathroom. Go shower and change. By the time you're finished, breakfast will be ready. Don't take too long please. I don't want to keep Ginny waiting. It's our anniversary, and we have a big day planned.' He laughed.

That laugh sent a fresh batch of chills knifing down my back as I remembered the other times that I'd heard it: when he was killing Janet, when he was taunting old Mick. How could such a monster walk around looking so normal? There should have been something about him that gave some hint about the twisted soulless thing beneath his skin.

I walked over to the table, picked up the pile and went into the bathroom without speaking. Like the toilet there was no lock on the door. The room was bare and utilitarian; plain white tiles on the walls and floor, very basic sanitary ware and cheap fittings. There was a small white vanity unit with one cupboard and three drawers. A glimmer of hope flickered as I looked at it. I turned on the shower and spent a few quick minutes looking through it. I was desperately hoping there would be something I could use as a weapon. My hopes faded quickly. There was nothing: no razors, no scissors.

The only thing I spotted was a small bottle of what I thought were sleeping pills. I stashed them under the pile of clothes. Just maybe I would get the chance to slip some into his breakfast. The chances were slim but it was better than nothing. I quickly showered and dressed in the clothes he'd given me, all except for the underwear — I refused to wear the underwear he'd placed in the pile. Just wearing the clothes was bad enough. They made my skin crawl. Were they a dead woman's clothes? I shuddered at the thought then folded my old clothes and put them in a neat pile next to the door.

I took five capsules out of the bottle I'd found. Working quickly in case he came in, I took a piece of toilet paper, opened each and tipped its contents into the centre of the paper and then carefully folded it and slipped it inside my bra. I sealed the capsules again and put them back in the bottle and replaced it where I'd found it. My heart was thundering in my chest and I was so nervous I could hardly stop my hands from shaking. I opened the door and stepped back into the kitchen. I stopped dead, arrested by the scene before me.

Brian was standing at the stove, cooking what looked like pancakes. Three places were set at the table and seated in one of the chairs was the macabre figure he called his wife. It was even more horrific in the bright, morning light. The face was a death mask, lips drawn back over clenched teeth, skin yellowed with age and the flesh beneath it wasted away so that the outline of the skull was clearly visible. It was the gaping holes where the eyes should have been that riveted my gaze. I didn't want to look but I couldn't look away.

‘Say good morning, Cassandra,' he said.

‘Good morning,' I whispered.

‘Ginny has been looking forward to you joining us for breakfast. I hope you aren't going to disappoint her?' The quiet menace in his voice made me shiver.

‘No, no, I won't.'

‘Sit down.'

I tore my eyes away from Ginny and sat at the table. I surveyed what was in front of me. He'd placed three glasses of orange juice on the table. My heart started to pound. He turned around and looked at me.

‘You chat among yourselves. I'm nearly done here.'

I battled down my feelings of revulsion and tried to think of something to say. He was watching me, waiting to see if I was going to do what he wanted. I tried to swallow.

‘So, Ginny, tell me how you and Brian first met.' My voice sounded strange in my ears, hollow and high-pitched.

He smiled and turned back to the stove. He started to talk as he went back to cooking the pancakes, telling me about how Ginny had moved in across the road from him and how it had been love at first sight. While he was distracted I quickly took the folded paper from inside my bra and with shaking fingers I emptied its contents into the glass in front of his chair. I was expecting the powder to dissolve into the juice straight away but it didn't, it just sat there, floating on top, stark white against the bright orange.

He turned around at that moment and I forced my eyes away from the juice, hoping he wouldn't notice. Thankfully he was still busy telling me about his and Ginny's whirlwind romance as he dished out the pancakes; he didn't look at the juice. I risked a quick glance at it and to my relief the powder had disappeared, leaving some froth on the top, hopefully not enough for him to notice.

‘I hope you're hungry. We don't have company very often so I went a bit overboard.' He smiled at me. I realised he was waiting for me to say something.

‘I'm hungry,' I said, hoping the lie would satisfy him.

He sat down and to my complete astonishment he bowed his head and started to say grace. My mouth dropped open in total disbelief. He must have felt my stare because he looked up and glared at me until I dropped my head.

‘Dear Lord, thank you for the blessings you bestow on us, thank you for bringing us our guest today and thank you for the food we are about to receive, Amen.'

He reached for his glass. I held my breath, willing him to drink it all down; hoping he wouldn't notice the froth sitting on top or realise there was something wrong with it. He took a sip and then screwed up his face in disgust. He held the glass up to his nose and sniffed. A wave of panic hit me. I gripped the edge of the table. Should I try to run for it? He looked at me, frowning.

‘I must apologise, Cassandra, the juice isn't right, it must have turned. Can I get you something else to drink? Water, perhaps?'

‘A glass of water would be good, thank you.' I actually meant it. My mouth was so dry it felt raw. I was dizzy. He got up, cleared the juice away then fetched three glasses of water, placing them on the table. Then he sat back down and started to eat. I sat there, motionless, partly overcome with relief, partly numb from the stress.

‘You're not eating.'

‘Sorry,' I mumbled. Raising my arms took supreme effort but I managed it. I grabbed the water and drank half of it down in one draught. Then I turned to the plate of pancakes in front of me. The thought of eating was totally repugnant but what choice did I have? I took a mouthful and forced myself to chew and swallow. He watched me expectantly. Oh God, he's waiting for praise.

‘Very nice,' I said. In truth I could have been eating cardboard. All I was concerned with was keeping up the charade, hoping that with enough time a miracle would happen and someone would find me, find us. My mind wandered back to the girl downstairs. I hoped she was still alive.

‘So tell me, did your mother know you were a prophetess when she called you Cassandra? Surely it can't be a coincidence?'

‘No, it's not a coincidence.' The truth was that when Mum chose the name, she chose it thinking there was little chance of my having precognitive talents like she did. Of course Mum's knowledge of ancient Greek mythology was crap and the ancient Cassandra could see both the past and the future. She was a terribly tragic figure; kidnapped and taken to a foreign country only to be murdered. The name fitted my talent and at the moment I couldn't help thinking the bit about being tragic fitted pretty well too.

‘I guess you didn't foresee your fate, did you, Cassandra?' He sniggered.

His laugh made my skin crawl. He repulsed me. I gagged on the piece of pancake in my mouth. His smile turned to a frown.

‘Tell me about your gift. How was it that you managed to help the police put it all together?'

‘I really don't like to talk about it,' I said. I couldn't bear the thought of revealing even one small detail about my personal life to him.

‘You're not very good company are you, Cassandra?' His mirth evaporated. ‘I don't see any point in continuing this if you're not going to make an effort.' He pushed his chair back and stood up. He started to snatch plates up off the table, dumping them in the sink. I quickly finished my water. He snatched the glass out of my hand, making me recoil from his touch.

He turned to the thing he called Ginny. ‘I'm sorry, darling. I know you don't like it when I lose my temper but I think it's best if we just get on with things. Our guest doesn't appreciate our efforts.'

I sat there trying to work out what to do. If I tried to placate him I could just make things worse. I didn't know what getting ‘on with things' meant but I didn't think it was going to be good for me or the girl downstairs.

Instinct got the better of me and I jumped out of my chair. I dashed for the only door I could reach and tried to wrench it open. It was locked. Before I could turn around he was behind me. He grabbed me by the hair and yanked my head back, making me squeal.

‘That was very stupid, Cassandra. Now I have no choice. I have to tie you up again.' He grabbed one of my arms and twisted it behind my back. Tears welled in my eyes. Keeping hold of my hair, he walked me back towards the door to the basement.

‘I'm sorry. I panicked. I won't do it again. Please don't tie me up,' I pleaded.

‘It's too late for sorry. You had one chance and you blew it.'

‘Please, Brian, Ginny doesn't want you to hurt me,' I begged.

‘Don't pretend you know Virginia!' he roared. ‘Only I know what she wants!' He yanked my hair again, so hard that I yelped.

He marched me down the stairs to the basement and forced me back into the chair I'd spent the night in. I tried to get up and away from him but he twisted my arm with such savagery that I thought I heard something snap. The agony of it sucked the breath out of me. I sank into the chair, sobbing with pain and frustration.

‘Have you forgotten what I told you? If you make this difficult I will make your death and hers as painful as I can.'

I had barely glanced at the prone figure on the table I was so intent on my own struggle and the pain he was inflicting on me. I looked over at her now. Her skin looked like wax it was so white.
Hang on
.

He left me sitting there and went back upstairs. I tested the rope around my ankles and wrists. It was rock solid. Every movement of my left arm was agony. The pain radiated from my shoulder, down my arm and across my back. My fingers were tingling and starting to go numb. I was half gasping, half whimpering with the effort and tears of frustration were running down my face.