Poison Orchids: A darkly compelling psychological thriller

by Sarah A. Denzil

  “That’s almost 4000 kilometres from Sydney.” Megan raised her eyebrows. “You hitchhiked the entire way there?”

  “Pretty much,” Hayley said. “In and out of lorries mainly. We walked a fair bit. We stayed in some god-awful motels along the way.”

  “How long did it take you to get there?”

  “I don’t know. Three, maybe four days.”

  “And where did the leaflet come from?”

  Hayley paused. She thought back to the day in the bar when she and Gemma had talked about going, but Gemma’s face was slightly out of focus, and she couldn’t hear all of the words that came out of Gemma’s mouth. She remembered grabbing the cash from the register. She remembered the sound of Gemma’s laugh as they’d run through groups of tourists near Sydney Harbour. It was clear as day, as though Gemma was in the room with her. But why couldn’t she remember everything? Her chest felt tight as she struggled to focus her mind.

  “Hayley?”

  “Is there a reason why I can’t visit Gemma? The detectives wouldn’t let me. Is she all right?” Hayley felt as though Gemma was the one with all the answers to what happened before the tanker blew up. But Hayley felt strangely conflicted. There was part of her that didn’t want to see Gemma ever again, but she didn’t know why. She kept telling herself that it was stupid, that she was confused from the concussion and couldn’t rely on her memories, but at the same time, she couldn’t deny that she was relieved the police hadn’t taken her to see Gemma yet.

  “She’s fine. The detectives have decided to keep you apart until we can get all of the facts. We want a clear picture of what’s happened, okay?”

  Hayley nodded along, but inside she was screaming. She’d had enough of being in this hospital room, talking to strangers. She’d never missed the narrow streets of York as much as that moment.

  “I don’t know,” Hayley said eventually. “I can’t remember it all, not properly.”

  “That’s okay,” Megan said. She reached forward and patted Hayley’s hand. “We’ll take it slowly.”

  At least Megan didn’t put pressure on her like the short detective with the piercing eyes. Maybe this wouldn't be as awful as she'd thought.

  “I wish I could remember things better. This concussion… I hate what it’s doing to my head.”

  “That must be hard,” Megan said.

  “It is,” Hayley mumbled. “I wish I could remember everything. I want to. It’s horrible not knowing what might have been done to me.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  “Take your time.”

  “I’m okay.”

  Megan smiled. “Good. Try to remember as much as you can from this point on. What was the farm like when you got there? How long were you there for?”

  “It was a fruit farm, with fields of mango trees. There were dorm rooms, like a hostel, with, I don’t know, a few dozen other travellers. The guy who ran it, Tate, also grew beautiful orchids. We were there all summer I think. Picking mangoes.”

  “What do you mean by all summer? How long is that?”

  “I don’t know. From when we left Sydney to about two weeks ago. But it’s all kind of hazy.” Hayley frowned, trying to remember dates and times and days, but everything merged into one messy lump of time.

  “How long were you held captive by Rodney White?”

  Hayley wrapped her arms around her body. They kept asking her this, and she kept giving her answer, but she didn’t want to talk about Rodney. It made her stomach churn. “About a fortnight.”

  Megan paused, staring at Hayley with puzzled grey eyes. Hayley kept getting the sense that she was giving them the wrong answer, but she didn’t know what the right answer was.

  “And who is this Tate person?” Megan asked.

  “Tate Llewellyn,” Hayley said, relieved to not have to talk about Rodney anymore. “Some of the guys at the farm called him The Chemist because his family owns a pharmaceutical company. He was growing orchids to make perfume. But mostly he grew mangoes.”

  Megan narrowed her eyes. “What sort of perfume was he creating?”

  Hayley shrugged. “I can’t remember. The backpackers mostly just pick mangoes, and that’s it.” Her head hurt when she tried to remember more. It was as though she had locked some memories away and couldn’t find them anymore. All she knew was that the summer at the farm had been the best weeks of her life.

  “When did you meet Rodney White?”

  Hayley shook her head. “It’s all so fuzzy. I… I just remember waking up in a small room. Gemma was there. We were tied up.” Her heart began to beat a quick tattoo against her ribs as she brought up the painful memories. “I had tape over my mouth. It was so hot. The sweat kept stinging my eyes. I couldn’t wipe it away.” She paused, catching her breath. “And the birds. Always squawking. They wouldn't shut up.”

  “And you were there for two weeks?”

  “I don’t know.” Hayley felt the burn of tears as she forced herself to talk about the darkest time of her life. “I was too scared to sleep. He’d come into the room and…” She couldn’t say the words. “Then he took us in his car, and I think he was going to murder us. That’s all I remember.”

  “You’re doing well, Hayley, but are you sure there isn’t anything else?”

  There was something about this kind psychologist that encouraged Hayley to try harder. Even though every part of her body was begging her to stop this line of thought, she forced herself to think as hard as she possibly could.

  The memories hit her hard and fast, coming at her in quick flashes. She gasped.

  “What is it? Tell me?”

  “I don’t know why I saw this.”

  “Tell me,” Megan urged.

  Hayley brushed a tear from her eye. She felt weak, as though all the life had been sucked out of her.

  “You’re safe here, you can tell me what you saw.”

  “It was so cold. I was shivering. The cold… it was… it got into your bones.” Hayley dropped her face into her hands and sobbed. “Don’t make me… it’s a nightmare, that’s all. It’s not real. It’s a nightmare.”

  “Where was cold?” Megan asked, leaning forward with her brow furrowed in confusion.

  Hayley couldn't stand looking at the woman's confused expression. She couldn't stand knowing that everything coming out of her mouth was jumbled and made no sense. She just wanted to go back to before she came to Australia. She wished she'd never come here.

  “It was the cold place,” she said. She could feel it now, as though the cold air was brushing her skin. Nausea churned at her stomach, and her mouth filled with water.

  “It’s okay, Hayley. Everything is all right now.”

  Hayley stared down at her hands and realized that she was trembling.

  4

  Gemma

  Sitting on the hospital bed, Gemma gulped a glass of water that made her gag. The petrol tank explosion last night had blasted searing hot smoke everywhere, burning her throat ragged. But no matter how much water she drank, she couldn't rid herself of the horrible taste in her mouth—of fuel and smoke and gritty desert dirt. Worst of all was the taste of Rodney White the last time he forced his tongue inside her mouth.

  I'm glad he's dead. Some people deserve bad things to happen to them. He deserved to burn alive.

  A woman entered the room, introducing herself as Megan. Even before she said why she was here, Gemma knew she was a psych. Her eyes were tired but searching—eyes that could look inside people and examine the faulty wiring in their brains. Megan positioned herself on a chair by Gemma's bedside and asked how she was feeling.

  “Like my body's here,” Gemma answered, “but my mind is off floating somewhere else.”

  Megan pressed her mouth into a sympathetic line. “It must be very difficult for you to process all the things that happened.”

  Gemma nodded, drawing her knees up to her chest and locking her arms tightly around them.

  “We're just going to have a little talk,” said
Megan. “Is that okay?”

  “I guess, yeah.”

  “First of all, is there a place you'd like to start? Anything you'd like to tell me?”

  “I just… hurt all over. I feel raw and exposed… and dirty. I want to make all that go away.” Her throat rasped on every word she spoke. She poured herself another drink and sipped the water, being careful not to gulp it this time. “But I don't know how to make it go away.” Gemma could almost smell Rodney's breath on her face, feel his touch on her skin. Shivers travelled up the length of her back and needled her arms.

  Megan caught the glass as it half dropped from Gemma's hand and placed it back on the tray. “Gemma, although we can't change the past, we can learn to lessen the pain. Often the best way is simply to tell others what happened. Little by little, the raw parts begin to heal.”

  “That’s the trouble. I don’t know if I can heal from what happened. If I can’t change the past, then I want to make myself go away.”

  “You want to make yourself go away?”

  “I want to die. So I don’t have to feel this anymore.”

  Megan straightened and leaned forward, giving Gemma’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Are you willing to trust me? You will come out the other side of this. I promise. You will. I can give you medication to get you through the worst of it.”

  “I don’t want medication. Rodney used to medicate us. He drugged us all the time.”

  Megan nodded, shifting back again. “Okay… I understand. No meds.” After a pause, she spoke again. “How about we talk about your life before the whole thing with Rodney? Were you working? Studying?”

  Turning, Gemma faced the wall. “There is no before. That girl is gone.”

  “Gemma, that’s not true. You just—”

  “She’s gone.”

  “I understand that you’re feeling lost. I spoke with Hayley a little earlier. She’s feeling very lost herself. Her memory is patchy.”

  “I remember everything. I wish I didn’t. What did Hayley say?”

  Megan sighed. “Not a lot. She remembers you two hitchhiking to a farm near Kakadu. She said you went there to work on the farm, but she’s fuzzy on the events that followed.”

  “Yes, we went to work on the farm. We were only there for a couple of weeks when we decided to hitchhike into town to buy some things. Like some shampoo and deodorant. That’s when Rodney stopped and offered us a ride.”

  “Okay,” Megan said softly. “And did you accept the lift?”

  “Yeah. We did,” Gemma told her, each word landing leaden and monotone in her ears. She needed to get this out. She needed to say it. Something about talking to the police had made her shut down. But Megan was different.

  “I hitchhiked all the time,” Gemma continued. “It was always okay. Until that day. After he offered us a lift, he said he’d forgotten his wallet. He drove us to his property at Bowman’s Creek. And then he asked us in for a cold drink. It was stinking hot in Rodney's car—the air-conditioning wasn't working. Not to mention it just plain stank. Looking back, I think he probably just lied and said the aircon didn't work so that we’d be sweating and desperate to get out of his car. Hayley and I went inside, and Rodney gave us some orange juice. It tasted kind of chemical. I felt sleepy straight away. Hayley felt sick and went to use the bathroom. Rodney said he needed to check on his birds—he had an aviary in a shed out back. I fell asleep for a little while, and when I woke, Hayley was still gone. I knocked on the bathroom door, but no one was in there.”

  She stopped, scratching at the mango sap burns on her hands and arms, anxiety cramping her stomach. “So, I went out to the yard, thinking maybe Hayley had gone to see the birds in Rodney’s aviary. I found the aviary in the shed. It was huge—about the size of a small room, and full of large, squawking birds. I felt sorry for the birds, trapped in that dark shed in that dingy cage and unable to see the sky. I was about to leave. But then…”

  Gemma's voice choked in her chest. She grabbed the jug of water and poured herself another drink. People could drown if they drank too much water—I'd heard that somewhere. That doesn't sound like a bad thing right now. I could drown myself… drift away.

  “Take your time.” Megan touched her shoulder again. “Really. There's no rush. And you don’t have to tell me any of the details now. We can concentrate on the timeline instead, and—.”

  “No.” Gemma tried to settle her breathing. “I need to tell it all.”

  The psychologist drew her eyebrows together, seeming to deliberate on something. “If you’re going to go further with this, we might need the detectives present in the room. Are you ready for that?”

  She gave Megan a nod, her cheeks wet from sudden tears. “I want people to know what he did to us.”

  Rising, Megan hurried from the room. She returned with Detectives McKay and Kouros. Gemma had spoken to them briefly the night before.

  “Gemma, Joe and Bronwen will be sitting here behind me,” said Megan. “You'll be talking with me, just as before. But they might need to clarify some things that you say. Are you okay with that?”

  “Yes,” she told her.

  Megan quickly filled the detectives in on what she'd been told so far then turned back to Gemma, giving her a reassuring smile. “Are you ready to continue?”

  Gemma sucked her lips in, brushing her hair away from her eyes with fingers that felt numb. “I’m ready.”

  “Okay, then tell us what happened after you first saw the aviary,” Megan said.

  Gemma inhaled the cool hospital air—so different from the air where she’d been imprisoned for months—and let her eyes close. “I was about to head back into the house when I saw… Hayley and Rodney. In a large cage next to the aviary. Rodney had her tied to a post. He’d taken all her clothes from her. He… was doing things to her. I screamed and ran. But whatever drug Rodney gave me earlier made me too woozy. I stumbled and fell. Rodney was there before I could even get to my feet. He dragged me and shoved me into the cage with Hayley. I untied her, and we tried to find a way out. But we couldn’t get out. Two hours later, he came back. He made me take off my clothes… everything… and… he…”

  Gemma shook her head, unable to continue, fixing her gaze furiously down at her lap, twisting the glass of water around and around.

  “It’s okay,” came Megan’s soothing voice. “I know it’s difficult for you to tell us these things.”

  When she raised her head, she saw Megan exchange glances with the detectives.

  What are they thinking? Do they think Hayley and I did a stupid thing in accepting a ride from Rodney? Should we have guessed that there was something evil about him?

  “Gemma,” said Detective McKay, “During the two-and-a-half months that you say you and Hayley were kept at Rodney’s house, where exactly were you?”

  “The cage,” she answered. “In the shed. That’s where he kept us. He called us his little birdies. We no longer had names.”

  “Just to be clear,” said Detective McKay, “did he ever let either of you out?”

  “Just… Hayley. She was his favourite. But he never let her out for long.” Her mouth grew dry, and she finished the glass of water. “He kept us there and used us when it suited him. Until he decided it was time for us to die.”

  “And that’s the night we picked you both up on the highway, isn’t it?” said Detective McKay.

  Gemma nodded.

  “Can you tell us about that night?” asked the other detective—Kouros.

  “Okay.” Gemma felt nausea rise in her stomach, her fingers clenching into fists. “Rodney decided that his new birdies must die—us. He was tired of us. We complained too much. We were looking sickly. His drugs made us vomit and made us stink like a sewer. He said that when one of the birds in his aviary got sick, he'd take them out and bury them alive.” Gemma heard Megan’s low gasp. “He tied us up and gagged us and took us one by one to the back seat of his car.” Her voice choked, and she paused.

  “Can I ask something?”
said Detective Kouros after a moment. “You were both in dresses the night we found you. Clean dresses. Apart from the blood. Where did those dresses come from?”

  “The dresses?” Gemma stared at him for a moment, not understanding the question. Until she remembered. “He gave them to us. To die in. Mostly, he didn’t let us have clothes.” Why was it so important to the detective to ask about the clothes they were wearing? Did they even care about what had happened to her and Hayley?

  He nodded. “Okay. Thank you. You can continue.”

  Gemma breathed deeply, feeling the air fill her lungs. She took another gulp of water then set it down on the tray. “He drove for a while then pulled the car off somewhere on the highway. He removed the gags and kissed us each goodbye.”

  “Did he say anything at that point?” asked the female detective, her gaze intent on Gemma’s face.

  “He said he was going to make us fly away now. And he pulled out his knife.”

  “And then?” asked Detective McKay.

  The detectives were starting to fire questions at her—in a way that Megan hadn’t. They really didn’t care about her. They just wanted all the sordid details for their case file. Get the details, wrap it up. Onto the next rape and murder case. But she’d started the story, and she needed to finish it. She had to do this.

  “He was going to kill me first,” Gemma continued. “Because he said Hayley had been his best birdie and he was going to save her until last. He put the knife to my throat.” Instinctively, her hand reached across her neck, protecting it. “He was telling me to get out of the car because he didn’t want my blood messing up his car. I guess I got a bit frantic at that point. I acted like I was going to do what he said, but instead I swung my legs around and kicked his groin. He… he got angry. Like an animal. He reached into the car to grab me, but I was able to get hold of the knife. He lunged at me. And the knife got him in the neck. His blood was spurting out everywhere. All over Hayley and me.”