Spoilt (3 page)

Feeling fatigued, she closed her eyes and tried to block out
the memories.

* * *

Lucas

Friday

Her hug was warm and he brimmed with comfort and love. She
kissed his cheek and ruffled his hair. He scoffed a little but he
loved her attention nevertheless. She waved goodbye, her eyes
filled with motherly love as she told him not to be
late.

As her face began to fade, the house disappeared and as he
spun around, he realised where he was. He rushed to where she lay
crumpled on the floor, her blood so dark it looked black. Her hazel
eyes stared lifeless while he held her cold hand. His clothes
became soaked with her blood as he drew her close. He hoped in vain
her heart would still beat or her eyes would fill with warmth. He
never wanted to let her go, even as the kind voices urged him to do
so. He didn’t want them to take his mother away.

Lucas jolted upright, bathed in sweat. The dreams had returned
after years of silence, the horror re-emerging. The memories fresh
as though it happened yesterday. His chest ached and his eyes
stung. He breathed deeply, trying to slow down his rapid beating
heart.

Now that his dreams were haunting him again, he began to
doubt, for the first time since receiving his badge, his capacity
to continue with the case. He was beginning to lose focus, his
edge. When conscious he could escape but now the nightmares had
returned and sleep was no longer his friend.

Chapter 4

Hope

Saturday

The sun streamed through the window and the birds chirped
their morning songs. Chelsea sat up and stretched languidly. She
gazed out the window and the colourful spacious back garden greeted
her with its assortment of annuals and perennials along with the
numerous hedges edging the yard. Pottering around in the garden
with Sarah and Charlotte would be just the therapy she needed
today. Filled with sudden enthusiasm, Chelsea went down the hall to
shower.

The smell of waffles and pancakes intoxicated her as she
descended the stairs. As she followed her nose, she heard her mum
singing along with the radio blasting from the bench and
smiled.

She spotted Hayden first, slouching on a stool at the
breakfast counter, scoffing down a pile of pancakes. Charlotte sat
in her pyjamas next to him, drinking coffee, and attempting to wake
up.

Her pa and dad were sitting at the table discussing issues
from the newspaper and not agreeing. Sarah swung her hips in time
to the music, which accompanied her humming and singing as she
flipped pancakes at the stove. Chelsea grinned at the welcoming
scene.

“
Well this is a sight for sore eyes,” Chelsea said as she
entered the kitchen.

She was greeted by her family in various fashions.

Chelsea slid onto the stool beside Charlotte. When her stomach
growled she discovered she was as hungry as her brother appeared to
be and devoured her awaiting breakfast.

“
Thanks, Mum, that was great.”

“
You’re welcome, dear. Why don’t you head out to the garden
while I clean up in here?”

“
What are you up to today, Charlotte?” asked Chelsea turning
to her not quite awake sister.

“
Give me another half an hour and I’ll help you.”

“
Good, we can catch up some more. What about you,
Hads?”

“
What?” he said glancing up from - was that more pancakes?
“Um, I have to do some study otherwise I can’t go to the movies
tonight with Josh,” he mumbled looking at Sarah with
distaste.

“
Don’t look at me like that, Hayden. The rules were the same
for the girls.”

“
You bet they were,” Charlotte grumbled.

“
I’d better get started, then. It looks like you two have been
a bit neglectful of the garden lately.”

Chelsea’s mind drifted back to Wes again as she attacked the
garden and pulled out stubborn weeds. She remembered him doting on
her as she completed the very same tasks. He’d fetched her drinks,
wiped her sweaty brow and lovingly made and brought her lunch. She
thought they’d been so happy together.

They’d spent the afternoon hours chatting in relaxed comfort
until she’d finally, after almost three years, asked about his
family. He’d never spoken of any living relatives and she’d
thought, now they were engaged, she ought to know this much about
him. When the subject was broached he’d become very touchy so she
hadn’t asked again.

Wes had always been awestruck by the Summerville’s wealth and
rightly so, she supposed. She wondered whether this had anything to
do with his family. She’d received a privileged life but never took
anything for granted and understood how fortunate she was. Chelsea,
Charlotte and Hayden never went without or wanted for anything. Her
entire family had and still worked hard. Her parents and her
grandparents before them were dedicated to providing the best
possible upbringing they could for their children. Chelsea was well
aware of how daunting it could be to some.

Many people over the years resented or were jealous of her
birthright and while at school the taunts were prevalent. Chelsea
was often hurt by the derision, nonetheless it made her more
determined to go out on her own and rely less on her parents.
Despite the fact that her parents owned the house where Chelsea and
Elle lived, she insisted on paying her half of the rent. She knew
them to be proud of her independence and her need to pay her own
way, although they didn’t want or need her to.

When Charlotte and Sarah joined her, Chelsea shook away the
painful memories and settled into the tasks ahead. The women spent
the remainder of the fine, warm day catching up and Chelsea began
to feel lighter in her heart. Being around her family always lifted
her spirits. As usual, Charlotte did more talking than weeding and
Chelsea was warmed by the familiarity of her perpetual
entertainment.

That night, exhausted after a day in the garden and full after
a nice dinner with numerous debates, the girls settled in the large
sitting room, with a bottle of wine and their favourite
movies.

Hayden completed his studies as promised and had gone to the
movies. Harold and Bradley had settled in the study for the
evening. It was just as it had always been. Chelsea thought perhaps
the last of her scars were finally beginning to heal.

* * *

Lucas

Saturday

Lucas couldn’t sleep again, afraid of what the night would
bring. His mind swirled with images of their lifeless bodies. The
familiarity of the case was troubling him and sleepless nights were
doing little to help.

He considered blocking out the images which were refusing to
leave him alone with a sexy brunette. Lucas wondered whether
getting up and going out to pick up any random girl to occupy his
mind and fill his bed would help. He couldn’t remember the last
girl he’d brought home to his near-empty apartment when he thought
a roll in the hay might relieve some stress.

He finally decided against the idea as another girl with a
name he wouldn’t remember or would never see again would be a
pointless waste of energy. Besides they usually wanted to
experience the re-run and he was not in the mood to deal with any
strings or scorned women. He couldn’t be bothered to be polite as
he refused a second round. He was too tired to be nice.

Did he crave someone to share his life and burdens with, or
was he just lonely? With haste he shook off the whimsical notions.
He didn’t get involved. Being too close to anyone, and then losing
them, hurt way too much.

Wandering around his barren apartment like a lost child, Lucas
considered a walk to the corner shop, falling back on the old
habit. Cigarettes brought the burn to his lungs, brought the
physical pain which masked the emotional one, even if was only for
a few minutes. Lucas decided against this too. He’d kicked that
habit and wanted to leave it behind, so he tried the next best
thing.

First, he did push-ups till his chest burned and the sweat
stung his eyes. Turning over he did crunches until the pain washed
over him and all he could think and feel was the ache. Chin-ups and
more push-ups followed until his body protested and sweat drenched
his skin. It didn’t help. Nothing seemed to stem the hollowness in
his chest, the empty feeling as though something was missing. He
was used to feeling numb and for years had stumbled through his
life without feeling.

An icy shower prolonged the ache in his muscles but didn’t
alleviate the empty hole in his soul. Did he really want to be
alone? His thoughts drifted back to the possibility of letting
someone into his life, so he stuck his head under the cold water
and buried his longing.

Fatigued, Lucas fell into bed, attempting to clear his mind
and obtain some much needed rest. But he knew it would simply bring
the demons.

* * *

Sunday

After having breakfast the following morning, the sisters
decided to do some window shopping. Neither Chelsea nor Charlotte
could ever say no to a relaxing Sunday, walking the streets and
perusing the local wares.

“
So how’s your love life?” Charlotte asked in her typical
inquisitive way.

“
Fine thanks.”

“
Meaning you have none, right?

“
I don’t have the time or inclination. I have family, Bloom
and friends. I don’t need anything else.”

“
Chelsea hasn’t it been a year? Just get over it
already.”

“
It has nothing to do with Wesley. I’m just not interested,”
Chelsea said a little too bitingly. “Oh, Sylvia’s shop looks great.
I love the bag in the window. It would go great with my brown
boots.”

“
Yeah, it’s great. I get the hint, Chels. I’ll butt
out.”

“
Thanks. So who’s your new guy?”

“
Well, he’s not mine yet, but give me time. His name’s Scott
and he’s in one of my classes. He’s really smart and so cute. I
can’t believe I didn’t notice him before.”

“
You were pretty wrapped up in Evan.”

“
Yeah I suppose, but I don’t usually miss someone so
hot.”

They both laughed, which turned into a fit of giggles and
Chelsea couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed so hard
with her sister. The rest of the afternoon was spent catching up
and walking through the quiet streets.

* * *

Later that day, Chelsea sat in the study reading her favourite
book from the collection when her Pa sought her out. When he sat in
the chair opposite, she closed her book and waited. She knew this
meant there was something he wanted to say. Harold had been a
psychiatrist before retiring many years before and Chelsea
appreciated and trusted his advice, as did the rest of the
family.

“
Chelsea, you still don’t appear to be your old self
yet.”

“
No, Pa, I’m not quite there yet. I still miss Wes. I realise
it’s been a year but I loved him. I wanted to marry him more than
anything in the world. I don’t understand why he left and like he
did.”

“
Chelsea, his soul was troubled. I don’t believe he would have
made you happy, not long term anyway.”

“
Yes, he was sometimes very edgy, but it added to his
charm.”

“
Time heals, Chelsea, and I believe you will find the right
man for you.”

“
I thought that was Wes.”

“
No, I don’t believe that to be so. You are a beautiful,
sweet, lovable girl and you will know when the time
comes.”

“
I hope so, Pa. You know it has always been hard for me to
trust. There have been a lot of people in the past who only
befriended me because of all this.”

“
Yes it is hard to know whether people’s intentions are always
the right ones. You can’t close yourself off just in case
though.”

“
I’m scared of being hurt again.”

“
I know you are, but we just want to see you happy. It’s time
to let go.” He smiled and left her with her book.

Chelsea wondered whether her Pa wasn’t right after all. She
had always blamed herself for Wes’ walking out on her without a
word of explanation. There must have been something she had done.
She must have made him feel bad in some way, maybe asked too many
questions about his family that one time. It must have been her
fault.

But maybe it was more that Wesley’s soul had been troubled, as
Pa had put it. Maybe he had been intimidated by her family and
become envious, resentful, angry. Had he only been after her money
and walked out when he realised she was too independent to take
money from her family. She had always believed that it had been
something she’d done, that she hadn’t been enough, but perhaps
there had been more to it.

Either way, it was time to stop the self-pity. Maybe Wes
wasn’t her only chance at love after all.

* * *

Monday

“
Well the cause of death is the same. Bled out from a cut
throat,” Lucas read from Kate Miller’s report. “Ligature marks are
consistent with being tied at the wrists and ankles with what
appears to be a nylon rope, which of course can be bought anywhere.
Her injuries were inflicted using some type of thin blade once
again.”