Thin Blood

by Vicki Tyley

  Sinking down into one of the plush seats, her thoughts inexplicably turned to Brett. She knew he would have liked the bar, but would he have approved of her meeting with Daniel on her own? More than likely he would have insisted on accompanying her. She didn’t want or need him — or anyone else, for that matter — to hold her hand.

  Her reasons for meeting Daniel were twofold. First, she needed to confront him; she couldn’t keep hiding forever. Second, he had promised her information that could have some bearing on the dormant Edmonds case. Even, perhaps, something that could bring closure for Narelle and the man accused of her older sister’s murder. Perhaps.

  Daniel sat down in the chair directly opposite and picked up the wine list. “What would you like to drink?” He glanced up, the corner of his mouth lifting in expectancy.

  Her lips peeled back in a half-smile, half-grimace, the sick feeling in her stomach intensifying. Reminding herself why she was there, she returned his gaze. “A glass of Chardonnay, please.”

  She knew that anyone watching could be forgiven for mistaking they were on a first date. Polite small talk. Nervous smiles. Strained body language. Strangers testing the social waters.

  The arrival of the waiter provided a brief respite. His departure left them with no distractions.

  They both started speaking at once, desperate to fill the awkward void. Whatever it was that Daniel was saying she didn’t hear, her own voice drowning out his words. She stopped, waiting for him to continue. He didn’t. They tried again, repeating the farce. She might have laughed if the situation hadn’t been so damned serious.

  Finally, she clamped her lips together and sat back in her chair, resolving to stay mute until after Daniel had his say.

  “Jacinta,” he sat forward in his seat, “I’m really pleased you decided to come. I wasn’t sure you would. For years I wondered what became of you and your mother. I hoped you were somewhere far away, safe and happy.”

  She frowned, wondering where he was taking it.

  “I don’t blame you for hating me, but there’s something you should know.” He cleared his throat, dropping his gaze to the tabletop. “When I came into your room that night, it wasn’t to molest you…”

  Jacinta couldn’t breathe, winded by the invisible punch.

  “No,” he continued, looking up, “I wanted to talk to you, convince you it would be better for you both to leave. I might have been only a kid, but I wasn’t blind. I loved Dad but I had seen it all before. I saw my own mother treated like a possession – her every action, her every thought, controlled by my father. Anyway, when I touched your shoulder to wake you, you sat bolt upright, screaming your lungs out, your arms going in all directions. At that moment, I think I was as terrified as you were. I tried to calm you and perhaps – because I don’t remember this – I accidentally touched you somewhere I shouldn’t have.”

  Sucking in ragged gulps of breath through her gaping mouth, she could do nothing except sit and stare at him in disbelief. Accident? Over and over, she had replayed every second of that night in her head. From waking with a start, to the touch of his sweaty hands on her skin, to the smell of his cheesy breath in her face. The more she thrashed, the more he fought to pin her down. Her shrieks finally summoned her mother to the rescue, one flick of the light switch turning the scene to stone. A few long seconds later, Daniel had broken away, mumbling something unintelligible under his breath as he hurtled past her mother. A door slammed down the hall. Now he was telling her it had all been some innocent mistake?

  “You have to understand, I never meant any malice. It all happened so fast that I didn’t have time to explain. And when you and your mother took off, I truly believed that it had all worked out for the best. You were out of harm’s way. That’s all I ever wanted.”

  Stunned beyond belief, she suddenly wondered if it was some elaborate ploy to absolve himself of any sense of wrongdoing. Fixing him with an icy stare, she said, “If that was the situation, why didn’t you say so at the time? Or even the next day? You had plenty of time to put your case then. Why wait all these years?”

  He sighed, averting his eyes for a moment. “I’ve asked myself that question many times, too. We were just kids. I don’t think anyone at that age really thinks through all the possible consequences of their actions. In hindsight, I should at least have tried to explain. But then again, if your mother had known I wasn’t trying to molest you, would she have whisked you away like that? I doubt it. She didn’t seem to care what happened to her, but when it affected her daughter, that was different. Back then, I thought by staying silent I was doing you both a favour. Now…” his chest heaved. “Now, I realise my actions were probably wrong. Jacinta, I know it’s a big ask, but I hope in time you’ll find it in you to forgive me.”

  Her body felt like an overwound spring, ready to snap. Her fingers gripped the chair’s arms as if they were all that separated her from life and certain death. Her brain threatened to overheat, the synapses firing in a feverish battle to process Daniel’s words.

  His body language, the tone of his voice, the pain in those dark eyes all made her want to believe him. But was he sincere or, like his father, a consummate liar?

  Part of her wanted to scream at him, unleashing years of pent-up anger. For him it may have happened too fast, but for her it had all been in excruciatingly slow motion.

  At fifteen, she hadn’t stopped to question his motives for being in her room that night. Why should she have? Good boys didn’t creep into a girl’s bedroom in the dead of night. Whatever his reasons, her terror had been real. Nor had she imagined his clammy hands on her skin.

  Nevertheless, was it possible she had misconstrued the whole situation? Adult logic fought against the petrified teenage girl still deep inside her. The room had been dark. Too dark to see where he put his hands. He hadn’t physically hurt her.

  In that instant, she hated him even more. His version of events meant the pain and guilt that had wracked her mother for failing her daughter had all been so needless. Up to the day she died, her mother had blamed herself.

  He shrank back under her glare. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

  The waiter arrived, becoming an unwitting mediator as he made a show of first presenting the bottle of wine to Daniel for his inspection and then opening it and pouring two glasses.

  Although the diversion gave her the perfect opportunity to flee, she chose to stay, using the brief interval to calm herself. Mentally counting down from one hundred, she focused on steadying her breathing. As much as she wanted to, she knew hurling abuse – or even better, the wine – at him wasn’t the answer.

  Instead, Jacinta pushed the whole matter back into the dark recesses of her mind to deal with later. She needed time to digest it. Time to come to terms with it. Time to let go.

  Like two chess opponents, they sized each other up across the table. Daniel made the first move, sliding one of the two glasses of wine toward her. In a show of bravado, she picked it up, raising it in a quasi toast. Checkmate.

  CHAPTER 27

  Narelle lounged on the bed, her fingers laced over her abdomen as she watched her husband’s silhouette through the adjoining en suite’s steam-obscured shower glass. In the middle of shampooing his hair, he suddenly burst into song, his deep baritone voice filling the bedroom.

  Giggling, she slid off the bed and, taking the phone from the bedside table, left Craig to finish showering.

  She dialled as she walked. For some reason the call cut off after only two rings. She tried again, not waiting for a greeting when it connected, her words coming out in a breathless rush. “Great news! It’s definite. I’m pregnant.”

  Nothing.

  “Jacinta, are you there?”

  “Sorry.” Her voice sounded edgy. “I mean, congratulations. I’m so pleased for you. How did hubby take the news?”

  “Brilliantly,” she said, briefly wondering why she hadn’t referred to Craig by name. “Oh, Jacinta, I really couldn’t have hoped for
more. He’s thrilled to bits that he’s going to be a daddy.” She laughed. “I don’t know why I was so concerned. It was obviously meant to be. A new start.”

  “We’ll talk soon.”

  Narelle frowned, disappointed by her friend’s lack of exuberance. Then, in the background, she heard the scramble of muffled voices, music and clatter that could only belong to a bar or restaurant. So completely caught up in her own excitement, she had blocked out all else.

  “Oh, shit. I’ve interrupted something, haven’t I?”

  “Sorry.” Jacinta sounded distracted. “Can I call you later?”

  She hung up, turning to see Craig towelling his hair dry as he padded half-naked down the hall toward her. In the space of less than an hour, he had grown in stature, exuding more confidence than she had seen in him in a long time.

  “Who were you talking to?”

  A simple question asked in a casual tone, yet instantly her guard went up. For a split second, she thought about lying. He had made no secret of his disdain for Jacinta, blaming her for all their current woes. Avoiding the issue wouldn’t solve them, though.

  “Just Jacinta.” She watched his face, trying to gauge his reaction. “I’m so excited I want to tell the whole world our news.” She beamed at him, hoping to catch him up in her enthusiasm.

  A flicker of something she didn’t recognise passed over his features, disappearing almost immediately. With a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he traced the outline of her face with his finger, brushing a wayward curl aside.

  “My darling Narelle, that probably wasn’t the wisest thing you could’ve done. I wish for your sake you could see through that woman. She isn’t to be trusted. How many lies and half-truths has she told you, I wonder? Remember, she’s a journalist first and foremost.” He paused. “Don’t be surprised if you get your wish. Although I doubt the news will be reported in the way you expect.”

  Inwardly she groaned, hoping her face didn’t betray her thoughts. “I’m not as naïve as you seem to think. Yes, Jacinta was a reporter and yes, we were probably just a story to her initially.” She hesitated, taking a deep breath. “But think about it: if she hadn’t come along when she did, we’d still be hiding like criminals behind closed doors. She did us a favour. I like Jacinta, and if you would just give her a chance, I’m sure you would, too.”

  He didn’t say anything, but she could see his mind ticking over. At least it wasn’t the short-fused, defensive reaction she had come to expect of late. She quickly kissed him, stymieing any further debate. Then, with a cheeky smack on his bum, she sent him to get dressed. An almost naked, towel-clad man with damp, mussed-up hair just didn’t gel with deep and meaningful conversation.

  A building queasiness in the pit of her stomach interrupted her thoughts and sent her scurrying to the kitchen in search of relief. Now she knew the reason for her nausea, it didn’t seem half as bad. But why they called it morning sickness, she’d never know. She’d had bouts morning, noon and night.

  By the time the kettle boiled, her nausea was already waning of its own accord. She sweetened the gingery herbal tea with a teaspoon of honey before carrying it down to the living room.

  Craig emerged not long after, barefoot but fully clothed in jeans and a black T-shirt. Stepping down into the room, he glanced over at the whisky bottle on the bar. Narelle continued to sip the hot aromatic tea, doing her best to appear nonchalant as she waited to see what he would do. He didn’t falter.

  “Have the police been in touch?” he asked, flopping down onto the couch next to her.

  His question caught her unawares. “What?”

  “The police. Any news on when the DNA results will be in?” He gazed at an invisible spot on the floor, stroking his freshly shaven face.

  “Not yet. They did say it would be a week to ten days.” Setting her cup on the coffee table, she then snuggled up to him. He smelt clean and fresh, the faint scent of soap lingering. “I hope it is Kirsty.” She felt him stiffen. “I mean, it’s better than not knowing, right? And the insurance company would have no more excuses for not paying up,” she added, referring to the $1,000,000 insurance policy on Kirsty’s life.

  Sighing, he draped his left arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close. “If only it were that simple,” he said, his lips brushing her forehead.

  “Why can’t it be? Think about it…”

  “Believe me, I have been. Every moment of every day. Don’t you understand? If the remains prove to be Kirsty’s, they’ll have proof positive she was murdered. I’m going to be back in the frame again. They had no problem charging me with murder when they didn’t have a body. What do you think my chances would be with a body?” He sighed, his voice dropping as he continued. “You wanted me to be honest with you. Well, the truth is I’m shit-scared. I feel like there’s a huge guillotine suspended over my neck and at any moment it could come down…”

  His volatile moods and heavy drinking started to make sense. “Oh, Craig, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  “What, and burden you with it? Besides, what could you have done?”

  “I’m your wife and I love—” His arms tightened around her. She could barely breathe, let alone speak. She felt a wetness on the side of her face and realised he was crying. His chest heaved in silent sobs.

  Pressing her face hard against his chest, smothering her own tears, she silently berated herself for not seeing the obvious. Blinded by her own wants and needs, she hadn’t stopped to consider what the real ramifications of unearthing human remains — that might or might not be Kirsty’s — would be.

  Believing in her husband’s innocence would no longer be enough.

  CHAPTER 28

  Jacinta groaned and, unwilling to open her sleep-leaden eyes, groped for the phone.

  “Hello.”

  “I need you out on a job ASAP.”

  “Anthea?”

  “Yes. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

  “Ask what?” In Jacinta’s half-comatose state, Anthea Sutton, her old boss and the editor of The Acacia Tribune, wasn’t making any sense.

  “I’ve had a tip-off and I want you to check it out.”

  Jacinta rubbed her palm over her forehead and eyes. “But that’s not my job anymore.”

  “Please, Jacinta, I don’t have anyone else available.”

  I told you so, thought Jacinta, biting her tongue. Cost-cutting measures had seen The Acacia Tribune sack all but one of its salaried staff reporters, using freelancers instead to fill the gap.

  “You don’t start with Alvico Media until Monday, do you?” Anthea added, in a less than subtle reminder that she was calling in a favour. “Besides, I think it may be in your interest to follow it up. From what I hear, it may have something to do with the old Edmonds murder case.”

  Jacinta’s eyes sprung open. With the phone clamped against her ear, she scrambled to sit up. “What exactly have you heard?”

  “Human remains found a week ago in the Toolangi State Forest are thought to be those of Kirsty Edmonds, right? Well, something else must be going on as well, because according to my sources, the area is literally swarming with police. My guess is they’ve found something or someone else.”

  So much for confidentiality, thought Jacinta as, still listening to Anthea, she threw back the bedclothes and made a beeline for the walk-in-robe. Against her better judgment, she had stayed on at the bar, not only to prove to herself how tough she could be, but also in the hope of obtaining the information Daniel had baited her with earlier in the day. Speculation or not, it seemed that the snippets Daniel had divulged were far from secret. Anthea knew more than she did. “I’m on my way,” she said, taking the top pair of jeans from the shelf. “I’ll give you a call as soon as I know anything.”

  She dressed quickly and then, checking first that she had her mobile phone, Dictaphone, a notepad and pens, she gathered up her satchel and car keys. Closing the front door behind her, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of gui
lt over how easily Anthea had talked her around. But this is it, she told herself. No more.

  Once in her car, she hauled the UBD street directory from the backseat on to her lap. Although she knew the general direction in which she should be travelling, the last thing she needed was to get lost. However, on checking the map on the inside cover, she realised that was still an option. The UBD would get her to Healesville but not beyond.

  She checked the pocket behind her seat and found a slim and much dated book of country road maps, but they didn’t prove to be of much assistance either. While the maps named the main roads, the secondary roads and tracks, marked by solid and dotted orange lines respectively, remained unidentified.

  With the UBD directory open on the passenger seat, she backed her car out onto the street, deciding her best bet was to get to Healesville first and then take it from there.

  Driving against the peak-hour traffic, it took her just over an hour to reach the small township of Healesville, on the outskirts of Melbourne. She cruised down the tree-lined main street and pulled into a parking space outside the historical Grand Hotel.

  She removed the keys from the ignition, turning her head to check for traffic before opening the car door. A Channel 7 News van sped past, bringing her plans to buy maps, a drink and a belated breakfast to an abrupt halt. In her panic to follow the TV crew, she dropped her car keys on the floor, losing precious time. Unless some major catastrophe she didn’t know about had happened in the area, she was betting that Channel 7 would lead her to where she wanted to go.

  Ignoring her parched throat and the gnawing in her stomach, she pulled out onto the roadway. Hunched over the steering wheel, she pushed her little Nissan Pulsar hard, only easing off the accelerator when she was virtually tailgating the other vehicle.

  Paddocks replaced housing as they left the township. Jacinta opened her window and breathed deeply, savouring the taste of the clean, green country air lingering like a mouth-freshener. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her of her missed breakfast.