Authors: Anne Buist
‘The feeling, dickhead,’ said Natalie, as her foot aimed again at his weakest point,
‘is not mutual.’
Again she didn’t connect, but in pulling back to protect
himself he gave her the
split second she needed to roll over, off the bed, and grab the bat. He stepped towards
her then stopped, grinning.
‘I’ll make you regret that.’
‘You? You’re not good enough.’
She’d practised the manoeuvre in one form or another countless times against her
bag in the garage. This opponent was bigger, heavier and intent on causing injury.
It took every ounce of her mental energy to sound calm. ‘You never were good enough
were you? It must have been a disappointment for your mother.’
His hesitation was all she needed. He caught the bat as she swung it, but this time
her foot smashed hard into his balls. She didn’t wait to see how much pain it caused.
She was already running before he’d let out a groan.
Straight down the stairs, into the kitchen, grabbing a knife out of the block as
she went past. Still running, she took the passage that crossed over the road, hoping
her assailant would keep heading down to the garage. He was right behind and would
have grabbed her if it hadn’t been for Bob, swooping from above. As Natalie raced
to the electronic door and turned to push the button to close it behind her, she
saw a flurry of feathers as Bob channelled his inner eagle and took on her assailant
with beak and claws.
The door slammed behind her and she kept running.
From the safety of the Halfpenny bar she called Liam and then the police. Vince watched
grimly as the police interviewed her. He insisted on returning to the warehouse with
them. The assailant was gone. So was her bag, and Bob, who had escaped either through
the open door to the balcony or the garage door her attacker had left open. There
were feathers
all over the floor. She hoped he wasn’t seriously injured and that
he would enjoy his freedom. She’d miss him.
‘You still have no idea who it was?’ asked Senior Constable Hudson, clearly frustrated.
‘No,’ lied Natalie.
Liam looked at her hard. She shook her head and looked away. She wouldn’t spend a
night alone until her stalker was caught, but she was going to do it her way, and
this at least ought to keep Declan happy. She would protect her patient.
Liam rang her the next morning.
‘The charges were dropped against Tiphanie, and Travis was taken into custody an
hour ago.’
‘Will they get a conviction? Given there’s no body?’
‘It’s a bloody brilliant bit of police work. Damian went back to Rick and Allison
and asked if they’d removed anything from the car. He figured that Travis would have
wanted to wrap the child or body in something. There was a rug. The lab confirmed
it was Chloe’s blood on it, or at least a child of her parents. It was his
mate’s
blanket, from his car. Rick and Allison have made a statement that Chloe had never
been in their car. At least not until Travis borrowed it that night.
‘There was only a trace of blood on the blanket. Chloe was probably dead and wrapped
up in something either on the backseat of Travis’s car or in the boot. Afterwards
Travis transferred her to the seat where Rick’s blanket was. The crime scene analysts
went over the car again, and they’re pretty sure they’ve found more. They weren’t
looking hard enough the first time. I think we have a good case. I am well aware
that Travis was threatening and physically violent
towards Amber and Bella-Kaye.
We’ll use it to support Tiphanie if we have to.’
‘I wasn’t allowed to use it with Amber.’
‘This time Travis’s violence is what the case is about. Directly.’
Travis might finally have got his dues. Amber hadn’t wanted to revisit Bella-Kaye’s
murder but she might be prepared to give evidence about the abuse. Tiphanie’s family
wouldn’t get Chloe back, but they would at least have final closure.
‘What about the neighbours?’
‘They saw Tiphanie taking Chloe to the car which Travis then drove off in. They just
got the timing wrong. Happens all the time with statements.’
‘What about the mate and his girlfriend? Didn’t they say he couldn’t have moved her?’
‘They said they saw him off, that he didn’t have time to move Chloe. But they were
all drinking. We have him on camera driving past the service station at 11.01 p.m.,
which is later than he should have been. He left his mates, then came back, got her
body and put it into Rick’s car; we’re thinking he might have put it in a dumpster.
They’re searching the tip but who knows? We may never find her.’
Jessie arrived twenty minutes late. Natalie was surprised she had turned up at all.
‘He said you copied the videos.’ She was angry, but it was a cool, controlled anger.
Did Jessie know he had attacked her as well? ‘Jay?’
‘He just wanted the videos. They’re ours.’
‘Who wanted the video Jessie? Jay? Or Kyle?’
Jessie looked at her furtively. Natalie was antagonising
her and could ill afford
to. Jessie had the answer to her stalker’s identity but in order to protect her,
Natalie needed to be sure it was Jay’s voice she had heard. She took a different
tack.
‘Why did you give me the computer, Jessie?’
Jessie’s façade had held up for less than a minute. ‘I got… mixed up. I didn’t want
you to know…but…’
‘Got mixed up or wanted to be free?’ Natalie forced her voice to be softer, inviting
of the confidence and building on the rapport they had already developed. ‘Jay’s
been in contact a lot more since your father got sick, hasn’t he?’
‘He always rings to wish me happy birthday.’
Jay. Their very first appointment. Her birthday. And the first note, hand delivered
after he hadn’t been able to convince her not to see a psychiatrist, enraged that
he was losing power over a possession. Once the appointments became regular he’d
got smarter.
‘He couldn’t believe I was going to some bullshit head shrinker. Told me I didn’t
need it.’ That would explain why Jessie hadn’t come when she was referred a year
ago. He was afraid of what she might reveal. So he’d played with Natalie, wanting
to put her on edge, hoping if she did suspect anything she’d keep it to herself rather
than risk incurring his wrath. But when Jessie gave her the computer the stakes had
changed.
Jessie continued. ‘Hannah was the one that wanted me to come. She was the one who
got your name.’
From Amber.
‘What he is doing is wrong, Jessie,’ said Natalie. ‘You know that.’
‘No!’ Jessie leapt out of her seat. ‘He loves me. He’s all I have left.’
‘You know that isn’t true. Hannah cares for you. So do I.’
‘You? You want to show that video to the world. How’s that going to help me? No one
understands except us, can’t you see?’
‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ said Natalie, feeling Jessie slipping away from her.
‘But he has to be stopped. Do you think he hasn’t kept abusing little girls?’
‘No!’ Jessie screamed. ‘He loves
me
. I’m the special one. It’s
my
rabbit drawing.’
She started walking towards the door then turned. ‘He took me home after my father’s
funeral, cared for me,’ she added, tears streaming down her face.
‘Jessie,’ said Natalie, standing and walking towards her. ‘Let me help you. I can
refer you to someone else if you want. Or you could come into hospital for a little
while.’
‘I don’t need anyone to help me. I have all the help I need.’ Jessie took a red USB
stick out of her bag and tossed it at Natalie. ‘Watch this, you’ll see he loves me.’
Natalie let Jessie leave then put the USB into her computer. The video started at
the funeral; she recognised Jessie as well as Kyle, who had his arm around her, then
the two of them talking to the camera, or rather the camera operator. A woman who
had to be the evil stepmother made a brief appearance with her son and the precocious
stepsister, and then the shot moved to Kyle and Jay talking to each other. Jay, smiling,
pulled Jessie into shot, intimacy and certainty in the action. Jessie’s expression
was difficult to interpret: in his thrall, intimidated but telling herself she was
safe because he loved her.
Natalie rewound, paused in one spot. This was the man who had abused Jessie, a man
who was still trying to control
her. And inadvertently, Jessie had provided what
she needed to answer the critical question. Jay had a signature move. She had seen
in her office when he had accompanied Jessie to her appointment. A gesture of support
she had thought at the time, but it had heralded Jessie’s deterioration. A message
that said he was in control.
Liam was waiting for her at her warehouse. She took him upstairs to her bed and they
made love. And it was making love, not just sex, a gentle prolonged enjoyment of
each other’s bodies into the early hours of the morning. Lauren was away again. Natalie
intended to talk before they slept, so she could benefit from his mellow post-coital
state of mind and the alcohol that had preceded it.
To enhance the effect she went downstairs, naked, letting him watch her breasts move
as she returned with a bottle of cognac that someone had given to her once. The two
large glasses weren’t quite brandy balloons.
‘I have something for you.’
‘Mmm…just what did you have in mind?’
‘It’s work, I’m afraid. I thought you wouldn’t be up for any more, you being an old
man.’
‘Now that’s fighting talk.’ Liam reached out lazily for her breast.
‘I know who assaulted me.’
He sat up, immediately serious.
Natalie handed him a USB stick. ‘I don’t want to bring charges for the assault if
you can get him for your paedophile ring. He’s very computer savvy and the company
he works for has done work for the health department, which I imagine is how he accessed
my hospital files.’
It was an educated guess but it had been easy to find out;
the company listed their
clients on their website, including the hospital where she had spent four weeks in
the psychiatric ward during her intern year. ‘Watch how he interlinks his little
finger with the underage girl he’s abusing on the first clip and the young woman
on the second. It’s the same as the masked man in the video you showed me with that
little blonde girl.’
‘Who are the girls?’
‘Can’t tell you. You can’t see the young girl’s face.’ Thanks to some judicious editing.
‘And the older one is just there to show you the gesture. But that’s not what you
really want to know is it?’ She smiled.
‘Who is he?’
‘Jay—Jesse—Cadek.’ The edge of Liam’s mouth twitched. Bullseye. Liam knew the name.
He was clearly Liam’s original suspect.
There was one last thing she had to be sure of.
In the morning, after Liam had left, she got on her bike. The Princes Highway was
becoming increasingly familiar. This time she took a turnoff a few kilometres past
Welbury, and had to stop several times to get her bearings. At the end of a long
dirt road she found the farm she was looking for.
The house was a large rambling weatherboard that hadn’t seen paint in a long time.
Behind it, a river wove between thickets of gum trees and scrub. Dairy cows on either
side of the driveway looked up, curious, then put their heads back in the grass.
Natalie turned off the bike, took out the camera she had brought and walked down
the side of the driveway, among the trees. She was hoping not to be seen, afraid
for them, not for herself. She heard voices and slipped behind a bushy tree.
She recognised the woman who came out onto the balcony, older than her forty-four
years, but without the tension in her shoulders that Natalie associated with her.
She called to a younger woman who was walking towards the house holding the hand
of a small child. An older boy was running ahead. Natalie was too far away to make
out what was being said, but her attention was focused on the smaller of the two
children, a dark short-haired child of about twelve months who held a pink soft toy
in her free hand. Natalie attached the long lens to Tom’s camera and took a couple
of photos. The toddler was walking, but only with recently acquired confidence. As
the child fell, Kay Long walked down the steps and hoisted her upright and Natalie
captured the moment when she was facing the camera.
Back on the bike, Natalie headed into Welbury.
Sandra opened the door.
‘I need to see Tiphanie.’
Sandra stood firmly in the doorway. ‘She’s moving on. She doesn’t need any shrink
in her life. Leave her be.’
‘Tell her I know about Japan.’ Natalie’s stance was just as determined.
‘It’s okay, Mum,’ said Tiphanie from the end of the corridor. She came to the door.
‘We’re going out.’
They walked.
‘So what do you think you know?’ Tiphanie was cautious, still hopeful.
‘I have a photo on my camera if you need to see it.’ Natalie let it remain hanging
in its case off her shoulder. ‘It was you not telling anyone about the broken arm
when you were a kid that got me thinking. That told me how tough you are. Then there
was Amber squeezing your hand at the funeral.’ It wasn’t as if Amber wouldn’t sympathise
with
Tiphanie, but there had been a particular intimacy in that action.
Natalie paused. Tiphanie’s rigid stance wasn’t inviting empathy but she wanted to
hug her all the same. ‘Then you visited her in prison; they keep records you know.
You two were more to each other than just women who had children to the same man.
But,’ said Natalie, ‘Japan finally did it. Two reasons, I guess. It’s a difficult
language and to do it by correspondence you would have to be very motivated and work
damned hard. Which means you’re smart.’
They reached a public garden space and Natalie leaned over the fence, watching children
playing in the distance. ‘Then the toys, at the memorial service. They were too big.
Little children like toys they can cuddle and hold close. The ones at the ceremony
were not the ones you told me were her favourites. I saw one with her in the paper.
I imagine the same one that goes to bed at night with her. Still.’ Natalie paused.
‘You provoked your mother because you needed to distance yourself and Chloe. The
maternal child health nurse described you as an
exemplary
mother, which fitted with
the story you told me of never leaving her. It fitted with how you missed her and
worried about her, but only
if
you knew she was safe. I thought about the screaming
the neighbours heard in the back garden that day, and about your explanation. I believed
you. You were having fun. Because you knew you were going to have to separate for
a while. Which was at odds with her watching cartoons all morning, and being left
to fend for herself.’