Thin Blood

by Vicki Tyley

  Then she saw him, reflected in the mirror behind the counter. Or at least it looked like him. The last time she had seen Daniel Lassiter she’d been a frightened fifteen-year-old schoolgirl.

  Pulse soaring, she glanced at the backs of the customers who stood waiting to pay at the counter, and then back at the mirror. Her stepbrother’s face had vanished.

  She leapt to her feet, her eyes frantically searching the café and beyond, to the street. Had he been there at all? Could she have been mistaken? Had the face in the mirror belonged to a complete stranger? She wanted so much to believe that, but the square jaw and dark, deep-set eyes haunted her. No passing of time would ever change that.

  Illusion or not, seeing him after all those years brought it all flooding back. It had started as a fairytale, her mother falling in love with a man who wanted to marry her and take care of her and her daughter. Life until then hadn’t been easy for mother and daughter. Jacinta’s father, a married man, had abandoned his lover as soon as he found out she was pregnant. It had taken years before her mother allowed herself to trust another man. Unfortunately, that man had been a charmer by the name of Tony Lassiter.

  Jacinta could still remember her excitement on learning they were going to be part of a real family. A family with a father and a brother. Her mother was happy; she was happy; everyone was happy.

  All that changed the day Tony Lassiter slipped the gold band onto her mother’s finger. In the ensuing weeks and months, her stepfather subjected her mother to a torrent of emotional and physical abuse. He cut her off from her friends, further isolating her. He wanted to control her every move.

  The night Jacinta woke screaming, her stepbrother’s clammy hands groping her breasts, had been the night that her mother finally took a stand. She packed an overnight bag with the barest of essentials and promised Jacinta everything would be all right. They didn’t leave straight away, biding their time until the right moment.

  Two days later, in the dead of night and dressed in only her pyjamas, she had fled with her mother to a women’s refuge. Somehow, Tony tracked them down. When the staff at the refuge refused to let him see his wife, he became violent, brandishing a knife and threatening to kill them.

  Jacinta and her mother made a break for it, carrying only the one overnight bag they had brought with them. Asking no questions, an old friend loaned them the money for the tickets to Melbourne. With all Tony’s contacts, it was a testament to her mother’s strength of character that they made it out of the state alive.

  Years later, they learned that a few months after they escaped, Tony Lassiter had put a gun in his mouth and blown his head off. Jacinta had felt no sorrow, only relief for her mother.

  Seeing the likeness of her stepbrother in the mirror had exposed memories she would much rather have kept buried. She had told no one about that time in her life, not even Brett. Pretending it never happened had been easier.

  Had her eyes deceived her? God, I hope so, she thought, as she sidled between the tables.

  A light touch on her shoulder, just as she was about to step out onto the footpath, almost sent her into orbit. She skipped sideways, dislodging the hand and spinning to face her assailant.

  “Excuse me,” said the pimply-faced waiter. “Haven’t you forgotten something?”

  Frowning, she stared at his extended hand. In her panic to get home and away from prying eyes, real or imagined, she had forgotten to pay her bill. Feeling her face redden, she apologised profusely, fumbling in her satchel for her wallet. She shoved a twenty-dollar note into his hand and took off, too embarrassed to wait for the change.

  All the way to the tram stop, she kept checking over her shoulder. Even though the tram wasn’t crowded, she remained standing, her back to the door. At one stage, she got off the tram using the front door and reboarded through the back door. Her behaviour was bordering on irrational, but she didn’t care. If nothing else, life had taught her it was better to be safe than sorry.

  Two stops from home, she jumped off the tram, holding her breath as she waited to see if anyone else disembarked. With a huge sigh of relief, she watched the tram pull away, leaving her standing alone on the street corner in the midday sun.

  By the time she had walked the couple of blocks to her street, her face was flushed and beaded with perspiration. Her shoes, not designed for walking, were pinching her feet. All she wanted to do was get home, have a shower and put her feet up.

  She had begun to think that perhaps she had imagined it after all. Convinced that her mind was playing tricks on her, she made a conscious decision to try to forget what she thought she had seen. Her life was complicated enough — why add to it? Daniel Lassiter, and her memories of him and his father, belonged to another lifetime.

  With the sun beating down on her, she trudged on, her only thought that of the refreshing shower awaiting her at home.

  She reached her front gate, never happier to hear its annoying squeak as it swung inwards.

  Then, before she could close it, she sensed someone behind her.

  Without thinking, she rammed her elbow backwards as hard as she could, her self-defence training coming into play. She heard a sharp gasp as it connected with something solid. In one fluid movement, she dropped her satchel to the ground, brought both fists up in front of her chest and spun to face her target. With her knee up and her foot flexed, she was poised to strike.

  Jacinta froze. Doubled over and clutching her stomach, Grace Kevron stared up at her. Her face contorted with hurt or confusion or rage. Or perhaps all of those things.

  Bringing her knee down, Jacinta took half a step forward, her arms outstretched. Still bent over, Grace shied away, the look on her face now one of fear.

  “Stay away from me!” she screamed.

  Jacinta stopped, her hands held up in front of her, palms forward. Either she didn’t know her own strength, or the element of surprise had been more effective than she would ever have expected. “Jesus, Grace! What the hell were you doing, sneaking up on me like that?”

  “I wasn’t sneaking up on you.” Grace’s eyes screwed up, her teeth clenching. She managed, “I did call out… but… you…” before the words trailed off into a moan.

  Even though it was against her better judgment, Jacinta couldn’t bring herself to abandon Grace on the street. With her arm around the woman’s hunched shoulders, she guided her through the front gate and up the short path to the front door. Grace offered no resistance.

  Once inside, Jacinta settled Grace on the smaller of the two low-backed suede sofas in the living room. A little of the colour had returned to Grace’s pale face, but the tension around her eyes and mouth remained. She hugged one of the sofa’s scatter cushions to her stomach.

  Jacinta stayed standing, her arms crossed over her chest, praying that she hadn’t made a terrible mistake in bringing Grace Kevron into her home. But what alternative had she had? She wasn’t even sure how to approach the situation. All care and concern? Sure, she felt bad about hurting Grace, but what had she been doing there in the first place?

  “Look, Grace…” Sighing, she dropped her voice and continued, “I’m really sorry about jabbing you in the stomach like that, but what the hell are you doing here?”

  Grace glanced up. “Remind me never to get behind you again,” she said with a feeble smile. When Jacinta didn’t respond, she added, “I came to offer my help.”

  Jacinta frowned, wondering where Grace was taking it. “Go on.”

  “Actually, I think we can help each other. We both want the same thing, don’t we?” Grace shoved the scatter cushion aside and sat forward, evidently no longer in agony. “You came to me, remember?”

  “Get to the point, Grace. What do you want?”

  “Truth and justice. I want the world to know the truth about what happened in that house.” The pitch of Grace’s voice rose slightly, her calm exterior starting to crack. “I want the bastard and his floozy to pay. Kirsty didn’t deserve what they did to her.”

&n
bsp; Pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, Jacinta closed her eyes and sighed. “Grace, how many times do I have to tell you I’m not interested? Yes, I was researching the story, but I’m not any longer. I’ve given up my career in journalism.” Grace looked sceptical. “In fact, I had a job interview today,” Jacinta said, wondering why she felt compelled to justify herself. “I am truly sorry that my visit brought back painful memories for you. I never intended to do that. If I could, I would take it all back.”

  Grace leaned back in her seat, retrieving the cushion and clutching it to her chest. “There’s something you ought to know.”

  Despite herself, Jacinta felt a flicker of interest. She weighed up her options. One, she could send Grace on her way and never know what deep, dark secret she was harbouring, if any. Two, she could hear her out, have her curiosity satisfied and then send her on her way.

  She heard herself offering Grace a cup of tea.

  “Something stronger, if you have it.”

  Jacinta thought quickly. What did she have in the house she could offer her guest? The couple of cans of beer that Brett had left in the fridge? A half-bottle of Shiraz that was probably more vinegar than wine? Then she remembered the cognac left over from the dinner party.

  Leaving Grace on her own, Jacinta went in search of the cognac, returning shortly with the bottle and two heavy-base tumblers. She poured two good measures and handed one of the glasses to Grace.

  “By the way, how did you get my address?” Jacinta wasn’t listed in the White Pages, her business card didn’t include her home address, and she certainly hadn’t given it to Grace.

  Grace tapped the side of her nose. “I have my contacts.”

  Jacinta didn’t press the point. She knew that privacy was just a delusion harboured by those who didn’t know better. Finding someone’s address was merely a matter of knowing where to look.

  Even before Jacinta had touched her drink, Grace had downed hers and was helping herself to another. While she seemed relatively calm and in control at that moment, Jacinta had seen how rapidly she could flip. She could only hope that the alcohol wasn’t going to exacerbate the situation.

  For a few awkward moments, neither woman spoke.

  Grace took a swig of cognac and cleared her throat. “Kirsty and I were a lot more than friends. We were lovers.”

  Jacinta choked on her drink. All sorts of possibilities had crossed her mind but that hadn’t been one of them. Open-mouthed, she could do nothing but stare at Grace.

  “You’re shocked.”

  “No, I mean, yes, I mean… God, I don’t know what I mean. Did Craig know? What about the police? Did you tell them?”

  Grace spoke in a low monotone, her eyes glassy. “I think Kirsty told him she was leaving him for me, they argued and in a violent rage he killed her. Couldn’t stand the fact she loved someone more than him.”

  “But…” stammered Jacinta, “but you told me Craig and Narelle were having an affair. If that was the case, and he was serious about Narelle, wouldn’t that have worked out well for all involved?”

  “He wanted both sisters.”

  Bewildered, Jacinta didn’t know what to believe. Was the woman simply delusional, living in a fantasy world of her own making, or had the two women been lovers, as she suggested? Even if what she was saying had any element of truth to it, why was she confiding in Jacinta and not the police? “Grace, don’t get me wrong here, but I can’t see how I could possibly help. Surely this is a matter for the police?”

  “You don’t believe me, do you? I knew it would be a waste of time.”

  Grace was up and halfway across the room before Jacinta had time to blink. Silently berating herself, she clambered to her feet. She heard her mother’s voice in her head: The first rule when you’re in a hole is to stop digging. Unless you were Jacinta, of course.

  “Grace, stop! Let’s talk about it. We could go to the police together.”

  Grace didn’t break her stride. “Forget it!” she shouted over her shoulder. “Mark my words, they’ll pay. And I don’t need anyone’s help, least of all yours.”

  Jacinta stopped in her tracks, overwhelmed by a sudden sense of helplessness. She had inadvertently uncaged a monster over which she had no control. When the front door slammed, she exhaled loudly, wishfully hoping she had seen the last of Grace Kevron.

  With her head pounding from heat, stress and drinking on an empty stomach, she flopped down onto the daybed and closed her eyes, her promise to herself to shower shelved. The glare of the sun shining through the window above her penetrated her eyelids, sending tiny darts of pain into her brain. Groaning, she covered her eyes with her arm and rolled onto her side.

  She found that if she lay still, it didn’t hurt as much. Gradually, her headache eased to a dull throb and to her surprise, she felt herself drifting into the welcome oblivion of sleep. Unfortunately, her peace was short-lived.

  CHAPTER 18

  Impatient for the traffic lights to change, Craig Edmonds glanced at the folded newspaper lying on the passenger seat beside him. His grip tightened on the steering wheel. He knew Jacinta Deller had been trouble from the instant he set eyes on her. Now he had proof.

  The newspaper article linking the discovery of skeletal remains in the Toolangi State Forest to the disappearance of his first wife could only have come from one person. Besides Narelle and himself, no one else except Jacinta had been privy to the reason behind the visit from the police. Unless the police had leaked the news themselves — which he doubted, since the DNA tests were still to be completed — that only left Jacinta.

  Knowing he needed to back up his suspicions, he had set out to find out as much as he could about the woman. Narelle had been in bed asleep when he logged on to the Internet and entered ‘Jacinta Deller’ in the search engine. While shocked to discover they had been duped by a reporter, he wasn’t surprised. It all made complete sense to him now.

  Loud tooting broke through his consciousness. The lights had changed to green and he was holding up the traffic. Planting his foot on the accelerator, he peeled away just as the lights turned to amber, leaving a queue of irate motorists in his wake.

  He had no concern for them. He was so consumed by Jacinta Deller and the destruction she was wreaking on his and Narelle’s lives, nothing else mattered.

  CHAPTER 19

  Groaning, Jacinta jammed the pillow over her head. If she ignored the incessant knocking for long enough, then whoever was pounding on her front door might just go away. She didn’t care who it was; she wasn’t in the mood to face anyone else that day.

  Eventually, the knocking let up. She breathed a sigh of relief and tossed the pillow aside. Had she been asleep for minutes or hours? She opened a bleary eye. The sun was no longer shining directly into the room. Late afternoon, she guessed.

  Reluctant to stir, she closed her eye again. Somewhere in the house, her mobile phone rang. Cursing but at the same time hoping it would be Brett calling, she swung her legs over the side of the daybed and stood up. Still groggy from sleep, she stumbled toward the living room, homing in on the ringing satchel.

  Midway across the room, she glanced toward the French doors leading out to the courtyard. She gasped, horrified to see Craig Edmonds’ cupped face framed in one of the panes. In that same instant, Craig spotted her. For a few seconds, she stood stock-still, unable to do anything except watch the obviously agitated man as he hopped from foot to foot, madly waving what appeared to be a folded newspaper. He looked like a deranged puppet, his mouth opening and closing in rapid succession only adding to the parody. She didn’t need to hear the words to know he wasn’t commenting on the weather.

  Her mobile was still ringing as she lunged for her satchel.

  “Brett! Brett, oh, thank God, it’s you.” Shaking violently, she gripped the phone with both hands. “Come quickly. Oh God, he’s trying to smash the door down.”

  With each thump of Craig’s fist on the door, she expected to see gla
ss shattering. He tried the door handle repeatedly, jerking it up and down with such force that she thought it could only be a matter of time before he broke through. “Hurry!”

  Distracted by the newspaper that Craig was now pressing up against the glass, she didn’t hear Brett’s reply. Edging forward, she squinted at the hazy newsprint, trying to focus. Although Craig appeared to have run out of steam, she was reluctant to move much closer.

  Concentrating hard, she was just able to make out two of the words in the headline: ‘murder’ and ‘skeleton’. She blinked and stepped back, knowing then exactly what had happened. Some savvy reporter had put two and two together — or rather, the police visit to the Edmonds house with the discovery of the unidentified skeletal remains. Craig clearly thought the blame lay squarely with Jacinta.

  She started to shake her head but thought better of it, guessing any denial from her at that stage would only antagonise him further. Gnawing her lip, she glanced back and forth between the newspaper article and Craig’s stony face. Beam me up, Scotty, she thought, suddenly wishing she could be anywhere else but there. Another planet, perhaps.

  Craig continued to glare at her, mouthing what could only be obscenities. Damn it, she thought, I am not going to be intimidated in my own home. Thrusting her shoulders back, she marched up to the French doors. A thin pane of glass was all that separated them. She could see the spidery veins in his bloodshot eyes.

  Then, with more bravado than she actually felt, she shouted through the closed doors, informing him in no uncertain terms that she had nothing to do with the newspaper article. She was in the throes of threatening to call the police when Brett rounded the corner of the courtyard, surprising both of them.

  “Look, mate, I don’t know what your problem is, but you’re not welcome here. If you’re not gone in ten seconds, I’m calling the police.”