Malicious Intent (11 page)

Anya watched two people sitting on either end of a turning boom arm, trying to throw a ball to each other. They laughed as they found the task impossible. From behind, it looked as though the ball was traveling in a curve, away from the catcher.

‘Great optical illusion, don’t you think?’

Anya looked up to see Vaughan Hunter at her side. She felt her cheeks redden.

‘It’s about relative motion. The ball looks like it’s curving, but it actually moves in a straight line. If you watch carefully, the people are moving in a curve.’

Eminent psychiatrist, part-time physicist and a know-it-all in your
spare time.
She resisted the impulse to speak aloud.

‘You can see what I mean when you go upstairs and look down from above.’ He wandered off and Anya wondered whether she should follow. Curiosity got the better of her.

‘Have you been here before?’ she asked.

‘Once. This place is amazing. Look at the enthusiasm on all the faces. Even the parents are enjoying themselves.’

He was right. Children of all ages were involved in the displays. No one stood idle.

They reached the upstairs level and looked down on the next pair throwing the ball from the boom arm. The ball did go straight every time. Anya made a mental note to bring Ben here one weekend. He’d love it.

‘Did you know this place started off in a former public 80

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school to bring science out of the big white buildings and into the suburbs? It became a victim of its own success. Pretty soon the building couldn’t cope with the number of visitors, so it –’

‘Let me guess, moved to a big white building away from the suburbs.’

Vaughan smiled and nodded. ‘Hope you don’t think I’m following you, but I wanted to come back in my afternoon off.’

Anya felt like a schoolgirl playing hooky. ‘I couldn’t quite face the afternoon sessions. Thought a walk would do more good.’

‘I thought the same thing.’

Anya studied the man, whom she’d never before seen outside work. They’d both been involved in a case of child sexual abuse, during which she’d seen a video of him interviewing the child and been impressed by his kindness and gentleness toward the young girl. Later, he had asked her to discuss the girl’s injuries as reported by the mother. His questions were highly intelligent, which showed his degree of concern for the impact his assessment had on this child and her family. From memory, he’d even done the report for no charge.

‘Have you seen the sports section upstairs?’ he asked. ‘You can challenge Cathy Freeman to a race.’

‘Running against an Olympic gold medalist sprinter? No challenge for her at all, I’d say.’

‘What about seeing how fast you can throw a tennis ball?’

‘That, I could do.’ Anya suddenly felt comfortable. This man had a relaxed manner and the ability to put people at ease.

She envied that.

They moved up the spiral ramp past another gallery and heard loud cracking and buzzing.

‘That’s the Tesla coil. It’s fantastic. Over three million volts to make lightning.’

Anya had seen what lightning could do to a human body and opted for sports instead. Inside Gallery 6, people rode sta-tionary bicycles alongside a display of bone movement. The skeleton riding a bike resembled something from an old Don Knotts comedy.

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A man with an overdeveloped upper body crouched down into starter position to race Cathy Freeman.

Vaughan shot Anya a look that said,
Don’t say a word.

‘I’ve always wondered why they crouch like that. It looks incredibly uncomfortable,’ she pondered.

‘You accelerate faster than if you start standing upright. In the crouched position your body is so close to being off balance, it’s easier to move forward. Take someone out of their comfort zone and they can do things they never imagined.’

‘Give me balance and comfort any day.’

Mr. Muscles was barely in a standing position by the time Cathy Freeman’s image had finished. As if disputing the result, he lined up to race again.

In a corner, a staff member in a blue coat introduced herself as an ‘explainer’ and asked if they’d like to learn about angular momentum. Anya reluctantly agreed and stood up to the platform. In the middle of a large turntable was a T-shaped bar to which she was strapped with a seatbelt around her hips. The Questacon employee turned the table and told Anya to stick out her arms. The turntable slowed. When she pulled them in close to her body, the platform spun faster. Vaughan laughed at the face she pulled as his face spun in and out of focus.

‘Try the ice-skater spin,’ he goaded.

She tentatively lifted her leg in an arabesque position and held her arms out wide. The assistant spun the platform hard.

Anya waited before pulling her arms to her chest and her legs together. She spun faster than ever and didn’t like the feeling.

‘Can you stop it now?’ she asked, her voice a pitch higher than she expected.

‘Just hold your arms and leg out again and you’ll slow down,’ the explainer said as she answered a question from the milling group about why cats always fall on their feet.

Anya was dizzy from spinning. Vaughan applauded before helping her down.

‘You were in control the whole time. You just didn’t realize it.’

‘Somehow that’s no consolation. Now it’s your turn.’

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‘No way, I get carsick at the movies. Let’s try something else.’

The pair moved on to magnets, then a simulated earth-quake, before exploring a cybercity. Two hours later, Anya couldn’t remember how long it had been since she’d enjoyed herself this much. She’d forgotten how much fun science could be, having spent most of her life taking it so seriously.

‘Coffee?’ she suggested.

They collected their drinks from the downstairs café and sat at a table outside with a perfect view of the lake. Anya felt the sun warm her skin.

Vaughan sat initially with his eyes closed, as though thinking the same thing about the sun. She studied the laugh lines around his eyes and realized how unusual it was to be around someone who enjoyed such simple pleasures. The camel-colored polo looked expensive, as did the long woolen coat he carried, but he didn’t come across as vain or egotistical. Anya wondered why he’d never married.

Vaughan spoke first. ‘Are you originally from Canberra?’

‘No, why do you ask?’

‘Profiling is part of what I do. I like to work out where people are from, where they came in the family order, what they do for a living.’

‘All right, you tell me where I’m from.’

‘That’s difficult to say because your clothes this morning screamed city, yet you have the air of someone from the country.’

‘Air?’ Did he mean like a country bumpkin? Suddenly, she felt defensive.

‘It’s naïveté, or innocence, I assume. Don’t tell me I’ve offended you.’

On second thought, he was probably right. ‘I grew up in Launceston in Tasmania, trained in Newcastle and Sydney, had three years in London and moved back to Sydney at the beginning of the year. I’m not sure what you mean by naïveté?’

‘Perhaps “naïveté” isn’t the best word. Launceston and Newcastle are both big cities but still have that rural feel about KATHRYN FOX

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them. People from larger cities usually have more confidence, self-assuredness to the point of arrogance.’

Anya felt her lips tighten. So far she’d made a great impression.

‘When Dan first introduced us, I tried to work out what you did for a living. Medicine, without question. Too much eye contact for anesthetics, too polite for a surgeon. Some kind of physician. Maybe hematology? That’s what I guessed. Then, of course, Dan explained your role in that first case.’

‘You weren’t too far off.’ She took a sip of lukewarm coffee. ‘I can just see you as a psychiatrist, lulling people into feeling secure then picking their brains.’ She unconsciously crossed her arms.

‘I’m not at work now, and I was intrigued, that’s all. Sorry if that makes you defensive.’

Anya looked at her arms and uncrossed them. Suddenly they felt stuck on, unnatural. She shoved her hands into her jeans pockets. ‘It makes sense, what you say. I lived in a town where everyone knew each other. My mother was the only female GP for years and my dad was a well-known lawyer.’

‘My guess is you’re the eldest and have one, probably two siblings. High achievers often have competition in the family and something to prove. How am I doing?’

‘Close. I have – or had – two siblings.’

Anya looked out across the lake and watched a cruising restaurant pass by. A wedding party sang and danced on the top deck. Vaughan remained silent. Most people felt uncomfortable when they heard someone had died and quickly changed the subject. He seemed to be waiting to let Anya say what she felt comfortable with. Words started pouring from her mouth.

‘Dad has always been a crusader. He campaigns against violence. Spends half his time in prisons and schools trying to teach people to take responsibility for their actions.’

Vaughan nodded. ‘He sounds like someone I met through grief counselling. This fellow is amazing and is doing some groundbreaking work coordinating visits between offenders and their victims. Bob, or is it Richard Reynolds, from Enough is Enough?’

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Anya nodded. ‘It’s Bob Reynolds.’

‘Oh, you know his work?’

‘You could say that.’ She quietly added, ‘He’s my father.’

Three cheers came from the cruise boat as it disappeared around the bend.

‘He’s an incredibly strong man, and you don’t exactly come across as weak.’ He drew an imaginary circle on the table. ‘Why do you worry so much about court appearances?’

This guy didn’t waste time getting to the point, thought Anya. ‘I don’t like being the center of attention.’

‘There’s no one with your experience doing the things you do, so Dan Brody says. He thinks you’re quite a find.’

Anya felt self-conscious again, and Vaughan seemed to notice.

‘What I meant was, he mentioned that that was why he wanted your advice on the Deab case. He asked me about perpetrators of domestic violence and it sounds as though you and I might end up working together again.’

She could think of worse things.

Just then a toddler ran past and fell heavily on the concrete.

Anya quickly reached down and helped him up. ‘You’re all right, darling, just got a bit of a shock.’ Anya brushed down the toddler’s clothes. ‘Where’s Mummy?’

He stopped crying as his mother ran up from inside the café, juggling a baby on one hip and holding an older child with the other hand. The woman apologized and scolded him for running off.

Anya checked her watch. She hoped to ring Ben before dinner. ‘We’d better get back. I need an early night if I’m going to survive tomorrow.’

Vaughan touched her elbow. ‘Every experience is meant to be helpful, not hurtful.’

For a moment she almost believed him.

13

Moot court began at eight-thirty the next morning. Each delegate received an envelope with a case scenario and information relevant to their field of expertise. Anya was second-last on the list. While the others devoured a buffet breakfast, she washed down a beta-blocker tablet with a glass of juice.

Although she didn’t have high blood pressure to control, the tablet stopped the racing heart, perspiration and uncontrollable nervous tremor; it gave her a chance to think clearly.

Dressed in a red shirt, black jacket and tailored trousers, Anya watched as the speakers grilled each expert witness. She almost felt reassured that many of them were intimidated by the video camera and performed worse than expected. The panel of three lawyers and a psychiatrist were highly critical of over-or underconfidence.

For the women delegates, the lawyers used sexist language, questioned their authority and attempted to extract opinions in subjects outside their areas of expertise. Having observed the mock witnesses, Anya felt better prepared, but still panic welled inside her. She sat in the makeshift witness box and took a deep breath, making sure her shoulders were level, not hunched.

Vaughan outlined the case scenario. The owner of a liquor shop called the police to tell them he had been robbed at knife-86

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point at 10:30 pm on Sunday night. He had just deposited the weekend takings in the safe situated beneath the floor of the back office when he heard a noise in the shop. When he went to investigate, a thickset man in a balaclava forced him back into the office to open the safe. In his statement to the police, the owner described being pushed to the ground with the knife in his face. When the owner failed to comply, the assailant pushed his captive’s head forward and sliced his cheek with the knife.

After that, the shop owner opened the safe and handed over $24,000 in cash. The thief had not been located.

The first lawyer rose. ‘Dr. Crichton has three photographs of the shop owner’s injuries and the scene of the alleged crime.

Could you please describe for us what you see in picture one?’

‘This is a photo of a man’s left cheek,’ Anya replied, ‘with three to four linear, parallel cuts of two to three inches extending from the midline to the base of the left earlobe. The cuts appear superficial.’

‘Now, could you look at the photo of the open safe and tell us what you see?’

‘An open safe with what looks like two large drops of blood in front of the safe about six inches apart.’

‘Could you describe the likely mechanism of injury?’

‘These appear to be hesitation injuries, which occur when a knife is used for the sole purpose of breaking the skin and causing superficial, as opposed to serious, injury.’

‘Are you suggesting that we have a thief who is sensitive and is afraid of hurting anyone?’

‘No –’

‘Let’s move on to the crime scene photos.’

Less than two minutes and Anya was already being discredited. She had to focus and stay calm.

‘The blood spots on the floor. If the victim had been kneel-ing down with his head forward, as described, how do you explain the distribution of the blood?’