by Diane Hester
He almost smiled. It hadn’t taken her long to recover her equanimity. He sat down opposite her. ‘Why did you lie to me about having information regarding this case?’
‘I didn’t lie. You asked me if I saw Martha Daniels in the library. You asked me if I was there the night she disappeared. You asked if I was outside and saw her leave. The answer to all those questions is “no” and that’s what I told you.’
‘So how did you know where her body was?’
She tugged at her turtleneck, curled her fingers around its collar and pulled it to her chin. He waited while she stared into her coffee. At last she looked up. ‘You might as well arrest me now.’
‘Why? Did you kill her?’
‘No. But that doesn’t matter. You’ll believe what you want to believe. And it won’t be anything I have to tell you.’
‘Why won’t I believe you?’
‘Because you’re a cop.’ The word shot from the back of her throat. She went back to staring into her coffee, fingers still clenched around her collar.
‘Sorry, but you’re going to have to answer my question.’
‘I have nothing to say.’
Mac sighed and dragged a hand down his face. ‘You aren’t leaving me many options here. If you can’t give me a reasonable explanation I’m afraid I’m going to have to take you in.’
She looked up sharply. ‘No, please, I … I have exams, a performance assessment. I have to sit them or I’ll fail and have to repeat the year.’
By the fear in her eyes it was more than failing a few courses that troubled her. ‘All I want to know is how you came by the information. Did someone tell you? Did you happen upon the body yourself? Did you—’
‘I see things,’ she blurted, meeting his gaze. Even as he watched, her eyes lost their challenge and grew wide and haunted. ‘It hasn’t happened in many years.’ She swallowed. ‘Not since I was a kid.’
He stared, temporarily at a loss for words. ‘When you say you see things, I take it you don’t mean in the normal sense.’
‘I mean like dreams, only when I’m awake.’
‘So … we’re talking some sort of extrasensory experience here.’
She sunk in her chair. ‘Yes.’
Mac’s grip tightened around his mug. ‘And you’re saying it was via this paranormal insight that you learned where Martha Daniels’ body was buried.’
‘That’s right.’
He would’ve laughed if he wasn’t so angry. With so much at stake, with one girl dead and another missing, how dare she hand him a story like this. ‘Have your visions always proved so accurate?’
‘As I said, I haven’t had one in quite a while, but back when I did … No, they weren’t. Sometimes I had to interpret what I saw and I wasn’t always a hundred per cent with that.’
She had either missed or was ignoring his sarcasm. Either that or …
Was it possible? Could she honestly believe what she was telling him? An honours student, an intelligent woman by all accounts? Yet as his own recent experience had shown, intelligence didn’t always enter into it—his mother hadn’t exactly been stupid, yet she’d fallen prey to inane beliefs.
‘I told you, you wouldn’t believe me,’ she said.
‘Have I said anything to that effect?’
‘No, but I know that look you’re giving me. I know what you’re thinking.’
‘You’re a mind reader too? I’m impressed.’
Her eyes flashed. ‘It doesn’t take a mind reader. When I was young I saw that look a lot. From my parents, my teachers, friends, even strangers.’
He leaned forward onto his folded arms. ‘Tell me about it.’
***
For an instant Lindsay hesitated. His voice had been so hushed and sincere. His sad eyes, enlivened by the blue of his jacket, seemed to offer only kind regard.
She wasn’t fooled. ‘Why? So you can act sympathetic, then laugh at me behind my back?’
‘I wouldn’t do that.’
‘Of course you wouldn’t. But your question has nothing to do with the case so I decline to answer.’
‘Then tell me things that do have to do with this case.’ His voice had hardened, the change so dramatic it made her flinch. ‘I want to know about this vision you had. Everything you believe you saw and heard.’
She steeled herself. In detail she related the impressions she received from handling Martha’s earring in the library and the episode she’d had in the practice room the night before. When she finished, the detective wasn’t openly laughing but she knew he was just good at hiding his contempt.
‘So with these impressions you got from the earring,’ he said, ‘can you tell me anything about the car Martha got into that night? Colour? Make? Registration number?’
‘No, it was too dark and foggy to see.’
‘What about the driver?’
She shook her head. ‘His face was in shadow.’
‘How about his voice? Did you recognise it? Would you know it if you heard it again?’
‘Actually he didn’t say anything; only Martha spoke. She said, “I didn’t think you were coming. We have to talk.” Then she got in the car with him and drove off.’
He heaved a sigh. ‘If you didn’t see the driver and you didn’t hear his voice, how do you know it was even a man?’
‘It was just something I understood.’
‘Well, if you understood that much, why couldn’t you understand the car rego number?’
She pulled her collar around her chin. ‘I don’t have a choice in what I perceive.’
Another deep breath. ‘But it’s your impression the man she got in the car with that night was the one who killed her?’
‘Yes.’
‘Funny how you could understand that and not have a clue to the guy’s identity.’
She shot to her feet. ‘Now do you see why I didn’t come forward? This is what I’ve been saying from the start—I don’t know anything that can help you.’
‘Except where the body was.’
‘Yes, all right. But other than that I have nothing of value. I didn’t see the car, I didn’t see the man, and I have no idea why he strangled her.’
***
Mac grew still. ‘How did you know Martha Daniels was strangled? That hasn’t been made public yet.’
For a moment desperation lit in her eyes, then she slowly lowered herself to her chair. With what he could see was considerable effort, she forced her fidgeting hands to her lap and answered softly. ‘The same way I know the rest of what I told you.’
Aloof composure had once again settled over her features. She held his gaze with convincing indifference. But there in her shoulders—the slightest movement, the flutter of fabric—her entire body was quaking violently.
Mac cleared his throat. He’d been determined to push till he got to the truth, till he’d forced her to give up this ridiculous charade. But by the same way he’d known she was lying the first time, he sensed she was holding nothing back now.
He flipped his notebook back several pages. ‘Let’s go through it again from the start.’
An hour and two cups of coffee later, with nothing more learned and no deepened understanding between them, he told her she was free to go.
‘Can I ask you a question, detective?’ she said as she rose. ‘I rang the police from a pay phone last night and disguised my voice. How did you know the anonymous call came from me?’
‘I didn’t. I sensed you were holding something back in our first interview and I wanted to find out what it was.’
‘You lied to me?’ She stared, incredulous. ‘You tricked me into this.’
‘Police don’t take kindly to people withholding information in a murder case.’ He drained his coffee and set down the mug. ‘Don’t leave town. I have a feeling we’ll be doing this again fairly soon.’
She snatched up her backpack and stormed from the room.
Mac slipped his notebook back in his pocket. He took their mugs to the sink
and rinsed them, set them in the strainer beside it. When he was certain he’d given her long enough, he went to the window.
Propping an arm against the frame, he watched her walk away across the common, head bowed, shoulders hunched against the cold. After what she’d done, no cop worth his badge would’ve felt compelled to treat her gently.
So why had he?
Chapter 8
Lindsay held on until she was well away from the building. Once she’d cleared the common and reached the shelter of the park beyond, she settled on a bench and let her tears come.
She fumbled a tissue from her pack. Her hands shook terribly. Yes, it got worse when she was under stress. How humiliating that Macklyn had noticed. He probably thought her a pathetic neurotic. Among other things.
His questions and comments swirled in her head. Good god, this couldn’t be happening again. Not with no-one to help her through it.
From her wallet she pulled out a tattered photograph and traced a finger over the white-haired woman smiling back at her.
‘Let me see what you’ve done there, Bunny,’ a croaky voice said.
Lindsay blinked. The photo was gone and in her hands was a child’s drawing. A gnarled finger pointed at the pastoral scene rendered in crayon.
‘And what is this?’ said the same croaky voice.
Lindsay looked up at the old woman now sitting beside her. ‘This is where Pa is, Nan. I told you it was a pretty place.’
‘I had no idea it would be so lovely. Look at this beautiful meadow with flowers. And this forest with all kinds of lovely birds.’ She took Lindsay’s hand and asked eagerly, ‘Does the stream have fish in it?’
‘Great big ones that are easy to catch.’
The old woman laughed. ‘Then I know your Pa is happy there. He’ll be fishing every day.’ She hugged Lindsay fiercely then looked down at the picture again. A smile of a different kind touched her lips. ‘Do you think I might go to this place one day?’
Lindsay nodded. ‘Pa said to tell you he’ll be waiting for you. He’ll know when you’re coming and he’ll meet you there. But …’
‘But what, little Bunny?’
She felt once again the six-year-old’s panic. I don’t want you to go.
‘Lindsay, what is it? Why are you crying? Lindsay? Lindsay …’
The persistent voice brought her back to the present. No longer Nan’s but … She looked up to see Shaunwyn standing in front of her.
‘Guess who just finished their last exam?’ The woman’s bright expression dissolved into horror when she saw Lindsay’s face. ‘My god, what’s wrong?’
Lindsay stuffed the photograph back in her wallet. ‘I just came from another chat with Macklyn.’
‘That foxy detective? Why would you be upset about that?’
Lindsay hesitated. No point hiding it—the news would soon be all over campus. She reached out and took her friend’s hand. ‘They found Martha Daniels’ body this morning. She was murdered.’
Shaunwyn sat down heavily on the bench. ‘I feel sick. That poor kid. How did—’
‘Strangled.’
Shaunwyn shuddered at the sound of the word, then her expression turned to confusion. ‘So what do the cops want with you?’
‘They think I’m involved.’
‘Involved? With a murder? You’ve got to be kidding. How did those Einsteins come up with that theory?’
Lindsay drew her collar around her throat. ‘I had another one of those spells. Like in the library, only worse.’ She met her friend’s gaze. ‘I saw where Martha’s body was buried.’
‘You saw. You mean …’ The woman’s frown cleared. ‘I knew it! I knew you were having some kind of visions.’
‘Unfortunately the police don’t see it that way.’
‘So you told them then? You told them where she was.’
‘I placed an anonymous call last night. That’s where I went when I left you. They checked it out, found the body where I said it was, and now I’m suspect number one.’
Shaunwyn slumped. ‘So this is all my fault. If I hadn’t pushed you to tell what you know—’
‘No, you were right. I wanted them to have the information. I just … didn’t want them to know where it came from.’
‘I can understand now why you hesitated.’ Shaun shook her head. ‘Jeez, Lins, this is too much. Has anything like this ever happened to you before?’
‘When I was younger. A few minor things.’
‘Why didn’t you ever tell me about it?’
‘It wasn’t a big deal. Plus it happened so long ago I guess I forgot.’
‘Here.’ Shaunwyn fished in her pocket, pulled out a scrap of paper and handed it over. ‘Write down tonight’s lottery numbers. I think we’re going to need that holiday sooner than we expected.’
Lindsay smiled and shoved her hand away. They huddled together in companionable silence, staring out across the park.
‘So the cops really think you’re involved in the murder?’ Shaun said at last.
‘What else can they think? They certainly aren’t going to believe the truth.’
‘They might if you showed them. Gave them proof.’
Lindsay frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Remember that professor I mentioned? The one doing research into ESP? You should go see him. There are tests they can do to show that you have it.’
‘What kind of tests?’
‘Relax, nothing painful. Just guessing numbers and signs and stuff.’
‘What will that accomplish?’
‘If you got a high score … Or better still, if you could demonstrate your ability under controlled conditions—’
‘Demonstrate? You want me to put on a show for the bastards?’
‘All I’m saying is, if you can prove to the police your ability is genuine they’ll accept that you weren’t involved in the killing and leave you alone.’
Lindsay sat back, considering her words. It would never work of course, but Shaunwyn had given her an idea. If this man, this expert who knew so much, could show her a way to stop her visions …
Her mind came alive at the possibility. Life without the dog. Life without questions and suspicion and fear. A life like any other person’s—sane, boring and blissfully normal.
Though it violated the promise she had long ago made to herself—to never again go near a man of his kind—it seemed the risk in this case might be worth taking.
‘This psych professor. He’s had experience with people like me?’
‘From what I’ve heard, he knows his stuff.’ Shaunwyn took in her reflective expression. ‘So you’ll go and see him?’
‘Trust me, Shaun, even if I scored a hundred per cent on all his tests, the cops still wouldn’t believe my story.’
‘Of course they would; they’d have to believe it. Anyway it’s worth a shot, isn’t it? What’s the worst that can happen?’
Lindsay squeezed shut her eyes and shuddered. At once she felt the straps round her wrists and ankles, the syringes piercing her tender flesh, the chilling void of total isolation.
The worst that could happen was obviously far more than Shaunwyn ever dreamed it could be.
Chapter 9
‘Detective Macklyn, did you hear me?’
Mac blinked at the phone in his hand then gazed wonderingly about his office. His flashback to childhood had come out of nowhere—the day his mother had gone to bat for him against the headmaster who’d wanted to expel him.
He’d suddenly seen her face so clearly, not as it was now but then, in that office all those years ago. Young, strong and, in that all-too-often-repeated moment, filled with rigid determination in defence of her only son. A memory so vivid and unexpected, it had absorbed him to the point he’d not yet replied to the man he was speaking with.
‘Yes, thank you, doctor, I appreciate your letting me know. I’ll be in to see her later today.’
He ended the call and closed his eyes, refusing to visualise the now alte
red state of his mother’s body. After all he’d seen in his line of work, what made a painless surgical procedure so gut-wrenchingly horrible to imagine?
The operation had gone well, Humes said, though his mother was still in a ‘guarded’ condition. The hospital would call the instant she regained consciousness. If she regained it. Mac’s gut twisted with a fresh understanding—a part of him hoped she never would. After all he’d put her through as a kid, to repay her steadfast love and faith in him by …
He looked up to find a solid figure filling his doorway.
‘Examiner’s report,’ Sam announced, holding up a folder. ‘The abrasions on Daniels’ heels occurred post-mortem, most likely from the body being dragged. With no blood or traces at the scene it looks like she was killed elsewhere and dumped at the site.’
Mac forced his attention back to the case. ‘Sexual assault?’
‘None detected. Time of death approximately five last night. Ten hours before the body was found.’
‘And seven days after the girl went missing. What did he do with her for six whole days?’
‘One thing he didn’t do was feed her.’ Sam dropped the report on Mac’s desk. ‘At least not in the seventy-two hours prior to death. Her GI tract was empty and there were signs of muscle wasting. Blood work showed no trace of barbiturates.’
Mac picked the scene photos up from his desk and perused them thoughtfully. ‘No ligature marks on her wrists or ankles.’
‘You’re thinking she knew him?’
‘Fits with what Cavenaugh told me this morning.’
‘Ah, yes, Ms Cavenaugh.’ Sam’s brow arched. ‘She admitted to making the anonymous call?’
‘In a roundabout way.’
The big man returned his burgeoning smile. ‘And you say you never have hunches. So how did she know where the body was?’
Mac leaned back, clasping his hands behind his head. ‘This should amuse you. Claims she saw it in a vision. Just closed her eyes and there it all was.’ He let out a laugh. ‘Explain it to me, Sam. How do people buy into this crap? We all live in the same world, don’t we? What makes a person believe they can see things that no-one else can?’
‘Sorry, Mac. The paranormal isn’t a subject I’ve delved into much.’