Authors: Anne Buist
‘The police already have, there isn’t a need for me to.’
Declan paused. ‘If you want to understand Tiphanie, you’ll need to look at her family.
Including her partner.’
Liam was waiting outside in the shadows of the Collingwood lane, takeaway food containers
in hand, when she arrived. Better than a stalker. Maybe next time she’d find someone
who could cook; this much junk food couldn’t be good for her. She had thought about
getting Liam to meet her at one of the restaurants near Declan’s rooms, but only
for a second. Her warehouse offered the best after-dinner options. Which meant, she
acknowledged, that she wanted to keep fucking him, and so what? It didn’t have to
mean a capital-R relationship, just mutual convenience.
The Lotus was in the cul-de-sac off the lane. Liam was still in a suit, although
he had pocketed the tie. He followed her and her bike into the basement entrance.
‘This place is something else,’ he said, looking around.
‘Could have been the star,’ Bob called from upstairs.
Liam raised an eyebrow. ‘What the hell was that?’
‘Bob reciting a parody of “Hurricane” I believe.’
Liam laughed. ‘Bob as in Dylan? Parrot’s got the better voice.’
Upstairs Natalie grabbed two beers, shoved all the paperwork off the table onto the
floor and started dipping naan into the beef vindaloo.
‘Bring me up to date with Chloe’s case,’ she said.
Liam shook his head, mouth full, and made her wait until he had finished his curry
and beer.
‘Okay. You were right.’ He wiped his fingers on the tea towel she’d thrown him. She
wasn’t sure that this was something she wanted to be right about. ‘We’ve got a statement
from Tiphanie’s GP.’
‘And?’ Who had told him? Not Damian, she was sure. His boss, who Liam liaised with,
maybe.
‘Seems that despite Travis’s claims that she wasn’t a nutter like Amber’—Natalie
cringed—‘she’s been on antidepressants for several months. Pops the odd Valium too.’
‘So do many new mothers. Particularly if they have to live with a deadshit like Travis.’
But why had she lied when Natalie had asked her about mood and medication? Because
she didn’t want Travis to know? Or the cops?
‘Maybe, but more to the point, how does it fit in with the case?’
‘I guess it adds weight to the she-did-it theory,’ said Natalie. Like Amber.
‘Forget it, Natalie. Travis ties this and Amber’s case together. He’s just good at
getting women to cover up for him. Use your psychiatry skills to help explain how
he does that.’
‘You think that if Chloe is dead, I don’t want to see Travis go down for it? But
wishing for it to be him doesn’t mean it is.’
‘No, but if it quacks like a duck…’
Natalie ignored him. ‘The medication increases the chance she could have dropped
the kid accidentally. But dropping her wouldn’t kill her unless it was down a flight
of stairs onto concrete. She was nearly one.’
‘Travis wouldn’t cover for her.’
‘No, I agree. You might like this more. If she was sedated, she might not have heard
Chloe wake up in the night; Travis kills her when she won’t settle. She wouldn’t
have heard anyone in the morning either.’
They spent a few moments thinking in silence.
‘Fancy another visit to see her?’ asked Liam.
‘I’ve already organised one on Thursday. With Damian.’ She thought of Declan. Wondered
how long before he found out about this case’s connection to Amber, and what it would
cost her.
Their eyes met over the remnants of dinner. Natalie drained the rest of her beer,
stood up and wordlessly started to undress. Liam’s eyes never wavered, drinking every
bit of her in. Despite being slight with a narrow waist and muscles taut from the
workouts that were essential for her sanity, she had retained the fullness of breasts
and hips. It was the first time Liam had seen her naked in the light, and he seemed
to be enjoying the view. He moved closer, his hands tracing over the scars across
her lower abdomen and pelvis, eyes meeting hers with concern.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Natalie. ‘I was a passenger. I’ve never caused an accident.’
‘God, you are….’ Liam laughed. But it was the knowing
amusement in his eyes that
made her want him. ‘I can’t get enough of you,’ he said. He stood, still fully clothed,
and pulled her towards him. She felt his belt buckle cold and hard against her stomach
as his hands came over her butt and their lips met. Natalie pulled at his shirt,
flesh on flesh sending tingles through her. She started to undo his belt but Liam
stopped her, pulled it off himself, then grabbed her hands.
‘Perhaps I’ll try to tame you a bit,’ he said. ‘I still owe you for that debacle
on the courtroom steps.’ Natalie saw that he meant to use the belt to tie her up
and laughed.
‘You and who else?’ She was more than twenty kilos lighter, but she twisted effortlessly
out of his grip. Liam wasn’t about to be deterred. Grabbing an arm he pulled her
roughly and spun her into the wall behind, almost knocking the breath out of her.
He was kissing her before she had a chance to move, using his weight to keep her
from shifting.
Natalie kissed him hard in return. For a moment he eased his body back, decreasing
the pressure as his hands moved over her breasts. Natalie used the moment to push
him off balance. A second push sent him over the back of the sofa. Natalie laughed
and grabbed his trousers, which were now around his knees.
Once they were both naked, he lay watching her as she arched her back and lowered
herself over him, staring into his eyes. If he felt the flash of connection as strongly
as she did, he reacted against it just as quickly, almost immediately flipping her
over. It was an hour before they were sated. They fell back on the sofa, a mess of
scattered fast-food containers and paperwork around them. Bob’s stand was horizontal;
he’d moved to the banister.
‘I presume you need to go home?’ Natalie asked,
returning from her bedroom wearing
a white wrap she’d forgotten she even owned. It was undoubtedly a present from her
mother.
Liam was collecting clothes. ‘I guess so.’
‘Where are you meant to be? Actually, no, don’t answer that, I don’t want to know.
How many kids?’
‘Two. James is twelve and in his first year of high school. He wants to be prime
minister. Megan is ten and probably will be the prime minister, straight after she’s
finished writing her Booker-winning novel.’ He spoke with warmth.
‘Sounds like you’re giving them the childhood you didn’t have.’
Liam paused, reflecting. ‘You’re a shrink, so I guess that’s pretty obvious. I don’t
want to be the sort of father my da’ was. We’d never have any idea if he was staying
or going and if he stayed, whether we wanted him to. I want my kids to know I’m always
there, and it’s a safe place to be: them first, no matter what.’
‘It’s none of my business,’ she said. ‘Does your wife care?’
‘She doesn’t know or want to know,’ said Liam, avoiding her eyes.
‘I meant does she care about you? The whole package? The part of you I see?’
Liam buttoned up his shirt and smiled. ‘That bit I’m sure she’d happily give you.’
Natalie figured as much. The perfect wife for a corporate lawyer would have to be…respectable,
she supposed.
‘So you allow yourself to be tamed most of the time, and just permit the occasional
breakout.’
Liam, now dressed, walked over to her and pulled her up, kissing her gently. ‘Thank
you.’
Natalie laughed. ‘Nothing to do with you,’ she said. ‘I’m looking after my own needs,
pure and simple.’ She walked him down the stairs, musing that his motives for seeing
her had shifted; revenge or bruised ego had been overtaken by pure lust.
‘Then I hope you stay…needy,’ said Liam. He kissed her again. ‘See you Thursday night
in Welbury?’
She nodded with a half-shrug.
‘Oh wait.’ Liam stopped. ‘I found this under your door.’
He produced a red envelope
from his jacket, handed it to Natalie and turned away too quickly to see her look
of shock.
A few moments later at her computer she slotted in the USB, and read the single Word
file saying what was now obvious:
I know where you live.
Natalie felt she no longer had a choice. Stalking of the more malignant variety had
the potential for escalation; her man was already well on the way. She took the USB
sticks into the Fitzroy police station. Waited impatiently in a claustrophobic foyer
with missing persons posters and a ‘We know you are there and will be with you soon’
sign staring at her. The duty constable, when he appeared, looked resigned to a day
of lost cats. He was hardly able to contain his enthusiasm when Natalie explained
why she was there, and handed him a printed list of the threats she had received.
He took a long time getting details; enjoying the time away from the cats, perhaps.
‘Could it be a patient?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘You mean none of them or all of them?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘So tell me about your patients.’
‘I can’t.’
The constable sighed. Natalie almost felt sorry for him. He reread the printout she
had given him. ‘What does this mean here about mood stabilisers?’
‘Not relevant.’
‘Do you want to be helped or not?’
‘I can’t breach confidentiality.’ Her stalker knew that. He’d warned her about it
from the start. Not that she had any names of patients, or anyone else for that matter,
she could give the constable as likely candidates. Apart from Travis. She felt she
was grasping at straws casting him as the stalker. Surely he had more to worry about
than terrorising her? Would he have driven to Melbourne to deliver the first letter
and, if so, what was he worried about?
If it was Travis, however unlikely, this was Damian’s investigation. He’d hardly
thank her for bringing in any more interference. Liam hovering on the edges was bad
enough.
The constable stopped writing. ‘Get someone to stay with you for a while. Make sure
your locks are good. I’ll put your residence on the cruise-past list.’
Jessie was subdued. She arrived with a huge bag, and seemed distracted. Natalie figured
she’d get to the issue bothering her when she felt safe.
For the first half of the session she went over mindfulness techniques and added
some relaxation and distraction to the repertoire: temporary scaffolding, while Jessie
took the months or years to process what was driving her emotions and to manage it
effectively.
The underlying problem surfaced suddenly, when Natalie was encouraging Jessie to
close her eyes and take deep breaths.
Jessie opened her eyes and sat up straight, squirming before saying, ‘I’ve been packing
up Dad’s stuff. The doctors don’t think he’ll ever be able to go back home.’
‘Too many memories?’
Jessie managed a wry smile. ‘You didn’t give me a big enough box.’
Natalie met her smile and encouraged Jessie to continue.
‘Jay—my stepbrother’s—helping though, which is good.’
‘How much are you seeing of Jay?’
‘He keeps in touch. Without him I probably wouldn’t have coped with Hannah being
in prison.’
‘Is he working? Married?’
‘No. Not married. Works for…’ She frowned then named one of the big consulting firms.
‘Does something to do with computers for them. He’s smart,’ she added.
Sounded promising. Jessie hadn’t held a job at any one place longer than six months.
‘Would he come and see me? As your main support, he might benefit from knowing your
crisis plan. I’d see you both together.’
‘Jay? Here? I guess I can ask.’
Jessie rummaged around in her bag and pulled out a notebook computer. There were
stickers all over it. Mostly Japanese cartoon figures. One looked like the figure
tattooed on her arm.
‘Found this in Dad’s stuff.’ Jessie looked down at it, picking at one of the stickers
that was peeling off. ‘It won’t fit in the box.’
‘Would you like me to keep it here until you’re ready to look at it?’
Jessie nodded. She looked relieved but also…scared.
‘We can go there when you’re ready.’ Natalie put the computer into the desk drawer.
Georgia was late. Natalie used the time to check her mail. No red envelope. Rather
than being reassured, she felt tense.
Would the next one be under her door at home
again?
Georgia arrived twenty minutes into her appointment time. ‘I’m so sorry. The tram
hit a motor bike and I ended up having to walk most of the way.’
‘Right.’ Natalie took a breath. ‘How have you been feeling?’
‘Good, actually. I’ve been painting the living room. It was that awful mushroom off-white.
Drab. It was getting me down.’
Natalie drummed her pen on Georgia’s file.
‘I’d never painted a whole room before and—’
‘Tell me about Olivia.’
Georgia didn’t appear to hear the question. She rummaged in her bag and found a Dulux
paint chart. ‘It’s that one now.’ She pointed to a pale lilac. Natalie kept looking
at her until she put it away, zipped up the bag and put it on the floor. ‘It probably
wasn’t the smartest thing,’ she said. ‘I got pregnant not long after Genevieve. I
hadn’t been on contraception because we wanted a big family. I just didn’t think
about it.’
Repetition compulsion? Was Georgia driven by a need to create the perfect family—the
one she had not had as a child—but destined never to succeed? Everyone was compelled
to repeat patterns. It was only when the patterns were pathological that anyone noticed.
‘We were both so delighted when we found out. It seemed like it was meant to be,
that this child was going to help make things right again.’ Georgia stared out of
the window.
Natalie forced herself to stay still. A minute passed. She shifted slightly to see
Georgia more clearly, wondering if she was dissociating or just remembering. She
was startled to
see a tear run down Georgia’s cheek.