Authors: Anne Buist
‘Why?’
Georgia shrugged her shoulders. ‘I guess a bit of nostalgia.’
Nostalgia, or was it the child version of Georgia, one of Wadhwa’s ‘other personalities’,
who’d gone into the shop to purchase it?
‘How many do you have at home?’
Georgia frowned. ‘Funny you should ask. I keep finding them. I forget I’ve got them.’
She laughed. ‘Maybe I have OCD.’
No, but maybe she did have Dissociative Identity Disorder. As far as Natalie could
judge, she had just witnessed a dissociative episode.
‘What about the letter in your bag?’
Georgia drew out an envelope. ‘This was in the post this morning. I took it out of
the letter box and I wasn’t sure if I should open it.’ She put it down on the table
between them.
‘Why shouldn’t you open it?’ Natalie asked.
‘Well, you seemed to be interested in these letters and so was my lawyer.’
‘You think it’s from Paul?’
‘Yes. It’s addressed to my maiden name: Ms Parker, not Mrs Latimer. He’s telling
me he wants to be rid of me.’
‘Why don’t you open it and see,’ Natalie suggested. ‘Then if it is from him, take
it to your lawyer.’
Georgia fingered the letter and opened it gingerly. She tipped the contents onto
the table. It may have once been a card with rabbits on it; maybe several cards.
The rabbits had been cut up. Beheaded.
Georgia gasped, her hand going to her mouth as she
paled. She stood up and backed
away from the table before rocking slightly and fainting, hitting her head on the
seat of the chair as she fell.
Natalie called Jacqueline and dispatched a recovered Georgia to her office in a cab.
‘I’m sending the envelope and contents with her. O’Shea knows about them, right?’
Jacqueline assured her that the prosecutor had been notified of the previous letter.
‘Another question.’
‘Yes?’
‘Whose idea was it for Georgia to see me? I mean did you suggest it or did she?’
There was a pause. ‘Georgia was adamant she wanted to see you.’ From her tone it
sounded like there had been an attempt to dissuade her.
Beverley had got the message that Natalie was less than happy with her after the
disclosures she’d made to Liam’s secretary, so she disappeared into the filing room
for the rest of the day. Natalie checked her emails. Damian had scanned the pages
she’d requested from Amber’s file.
Natalie usually found police reports unhelpful. Cops wrote as little as possible
and it was often hard to see what they meant through the stilted jargon. Not that
her notes would have been any better; she’d had to learn to stop using her own abbreviations
so other people could make sense of her comments.
The police had been called to the home of Amber and Travis Hardy after being alerted
by the emergency services operator. The file included a copy of the excruciating
call
transcript. Amber had frozen and resisted any attempts to make her go back into
the bathroom. With Amber’s recent confession, it made sense. Bella-Kaye was already
dead. She’d waited long enough for Travis to leave unobserved, so he could then cruise
home via the pub. The police and ambulance were at the house when he returned.
Natalie scoured the notes. One of the police in attendance was DS McBride. This made
it even more likely that Damian would go back over the notes. Could she be blamed
if he saw what he had missed last time? What was the worst that could happen? She
wasn’t worried about herself so much as Amber.
She didn’t know what she was looking for until she found it: two pieces of information
buried in the report.
The first was the state of the kitchen. The pots were in the sink, not on the stove
where they would have been if Travis hadn’t yet got home for dinner.
The second was a single word in the detailed description of the ‘crime scene’ room.
Wet
children’s clothes on the floor. Travis must have removed them when he came up
with the cover story for her to tell.
This time, Amber had told the truth. The whole truth.
Liam met her at the Halfpenny. She had texted him first thing in the morning after
her restless night. Vince and Benny were watching to see if Liam was followed. A
man had asked after her recently; nondescript, late forties. Not Travis. A private
investigator? Her stalker?
Benny brought Liam to the back room.
‘Why do I have bad vibes?’ Liam asked. ‘Is this where you tell me you don’t want
to see me again and they—’ he tossed his head in the direction of Vince and Benny
‘—beat me up and throw me out?’
‘We may get to that.’ Natalie stood up and shut the door. ‘You need to see this.’
Her laptop was on the table.
They watched the clips from the previous night’s USB in silence. There were several,
of varying quality. All were of Natalie and Liam drinking champagne on the Sydney
hotel balcony, bare-legged in robes.
‘Fuck,’ Liam said, echoing Natalie’s thoughts.
‘This isn’t the first video clip,’ said Natalie, ‘and there have been notes delivered
on a USB.’ Looking at him directly she added, ‘Could it be Lauren?’
There was a long silence and Natalie felt her heart pounding. If she was honest,
it was the most likely scenario. Lauren was no fool, and much smarter than Travis.
Men, particularly arrogant ones who thought they owned the world, weren’t that observant;
Liam wouldn’t have noticed if he was being followed, as he could have been that day
he had come to her rooms, the day of the first note. Lauren would have the resources
and more than enough cause. She wouldn’t need the video for a divorce but it might
give her some extra leverage with the financial settlement or the children.
Liam pulled his chair back from the table, one foot across his knee. Defensive. ‘Tell
me about the notes.’
Natalie outlined the history of her red-envelope stalker, minus the references to
her mental health. ‘I presume you don’t want me giving this to the police.’
There was only a second’s hesitation. ‘No. It’d be a tad awkward. But if you’re in
danger, obviously that’s far more important.’
‘Right now I think I—we—have a better chance of working it out than the police.’
Liam dropped his leg and smiled. ‘It isn’t Lauren.’ He sounded unconvinced by his
own words.
‘From my perspective, he—or she—is more resourceful than my patients. The film shows
Sydney, not just Melbourne.’ This had been the first thing that had occurred to her.
It had left her feeling vulnerable and powerless. And alone.
‘So who is doing it and why?’ Liam appeared to be over the initial shock.
‘This is the list I gave the police,’ said Natalie, smoothing out a folded piece
of paper. ‘It doesn’t make sense. Not when you add the Sydney angle. This person
either got on a plane
after us or hired a PI. Both options would take money and motivation.
A patient doesn’t fit, particularly a psychotic one; they don’t have the focus. And
the antisocial patients I’ve seen haven’t got the resources.’
Then there was the fact that the room was booked in Liam’s name, not hers. The night
before she was even meant to be there. Back to Lauren.
Liam was reading the list. ‘Two murderers?’
‘Both antisocial personality disorders. One I saw as a once-off. He was a nasty piece
of work and thought he could con me into supporting a sleepwalking defence I told
him was crap—’
She saw Liam’s expression and despite herself she laughed. ‘I didn’t exactly say
it was rubbish, but that was the general tenor of my report. Two other psychiatrists
said the same. It wasn’t like there was really any hope of the defence working.’
‘So he’s in prison?’
‘Yes, but he has lots of friends. Friends with money.’
‘Given we’re grasping at straws, you’d better give me the names of the other psychiatrists
in case they’re being targeted as well.’ Liam jotted the names down. ‘The other murderer?’
‘Luke Wheeler,’ said Natalie. ‘I looked after him for two weeks at Yarra Bend when
I started there. Plain bad with a big dose of weak, and I sent him back to Port Phillip
Prison. He got parole a few months ago.’ She only knew this because Senior Constable
Hudson had checked it out. Wheeler had been at Yarra Bend at the same time as Bob’s
owner but the theft of Bob’s photo could have been opportunistic.
Liam was looking at her. Natalie shook her head.
‘I really can’t see why he’d bother,’ she said. ‘He used
to enjoy creeping me out,
making sexual suggestions and getting off on my response.’ He’d stopped when on the
third occasion she’d turned to him, smiled sweetly, and told him that if he tried
it again she’d have his balls fried for breakfast.
‘Who did he murder?’
‘Technically it was manslaughter. One of the last people to use provocation as a
defence,’ said Natalie. ‘He caught his girlfriend in bed with his best friend.’
‘What happened to the best friend?’ asked Liam.
‘Survived the bullet. Girlfriend didn’t.’
Liam wrote his name down with a star next to it. ‘Anyone else?’
‘Three women with borderline personalities. They were all angry, but the most recent
was six months ago. They’ll have redirected their anger to someone else. Only one
had a history of violence to anyone other than herself, and that was road rage.’
She thought for a second. ‘I suppose I should include Celeste. A current inpatient
at Yarra Bend, in for attempted murder of her pimp husband. I guess he’s still around.
And she has a brother.’
Liam looked at her thoughtfully. ‘She got a history of abuse?’
‘They all do, Liam.’
‘Okay. Who else should be on this list that you didn’t tell the good senior constable
about?’
Natalie looked at him. She’d thought about this most nights, alone in bed and not
sleeping.
‘There’s really only two. First is Travis,’ said Natalie, ‘but I wouldn’t have thought
he had the brains or the money. Plus, the timing is a bit early. I got the first
letter the week before he saw me at the police station in Welbury. That said, he
didn’t look surprised to see me there.’
Liam shook his head. ‘No one would have told Travis.’
‘Think again. Amber’s mother knew I was involved two days after we met for dinner;
the day after you booked the room. It’s a country town.’
Liam shook his head. ‘Would anyone help Travis? Who’s the other?’
‘Paul Latimer. The husband of my patient. He sent the card with the bunny logo; Georgia’s
lawyer would’ve spoken to you about it, right?’
Liam nodded. ‘Jacqueline Barrett. She did.’ He wasn’t giving anything away.
‘So have you found anything?’
‘We’re looking.’
She could play that game too. ‘I can’t and won’t tell you anything about Georgia
other than what you can find out for yourself. She was already in my care when it
started. But maybe he had more to do with the death of his children than the police
thought, and thinks Georgia has told me.’ She added: ‘And he lives in Sydney.’
Corinne was in her office at 8 a.m. The woman needed a life as much as Natalie did.
Natalie hovered in the doorway. ‘I wanted to let you know I’m starting to write a
report on Georgia.’
Corinne looked up. ‘And?’
Natalie took a deep breath. ‘I think Wadhwa is right.’
‘Good to know we’re paying him well for a reason.’ Her tone was dry but Natalie sensed
something else.
‘He’s still an incompetent jerk.’
‘Seems the feeling is mutual.’
‘Maybe you’d like my resignation?’ Natalie suggested, only half-joking.
‘Christ, don’t you start. No, that wasn’t what I meant. Never mind. You do a good
job. Just try not to push his buttons if you can avoid it.’
‘The registrar’s with Celeste,’ said Kirsty. ‘She’s been cutting again.’
Natalie stuck her head into the examination room. Celeste’s slashes looked superficial
and the registrar was finishing dabbing them with mercurochrome. It wasn’t the cuts
that drew her attention. As Celeste turned around to get her T-shirt, Natalie caught
sight of a tattoo. ‘Haven’t seen one like that before.’ Natalie smiled faintly. ‘What
does it signify?’
Celeste stared at the floor. She ignored the question when it was repeated.
Natalie went closer to be certain. Yes, it was Liam’s porno-ring rabbits.
Celeste mumbled something, several times, that sounded like ‘angel’. Delusional.
Natalie went back to Celeste’s file and reviewed the admission notes. Okay, not delusional.
Her husband’s name was Angelo. She was wondering about the implications, when Wadhwa
made a grand entrance with a television crew and began to parade them around the
unit. Natalie thought of Corinne’s comments and went home early.
‘I’m not exactly feeling on top of my patient load,’ Natalie confessed to Declan,
not adding that she had more than enough other things to worry about.
‘Patient A and patient B?’
‘Yes, as well as Georgia and Jessie. It’s like I started to look for dissociation
and now I see it everywhere.’
She brought Declan up to date with her visit to Lee, finishing with the unnerving
similarities between mother and daughter. ‘Who’s to say that a murderous impulse,
directed to a husband in Lee’s case, couldn’t be directed towards a child in Georgia’s,
maybe even through one of these other “personalities”?’
‘The unleashing of the primitive id. We all have murderous impulses, but most of
us don’t act on them.’
‘Then there’s Saint Paul who likes cutting up rabbits on cards for fun. As well as
being kept amused, whatever that means. Why did he go to see Georgia’s mother without
telling her? A fascination with murderers?’
‘It’s hard to know without talking to him. Try to place yourself in his position.
Maybe he really did love her. There could be some truth in what she says about him
knowing, but it may be subconscious. If he then feels he was duped into colluding
in the murder of his children, anger would be understandable.’