Hindsight (9781921997211)

by Casey, Melanie

  ‘You mean if they were shot you would feel what it’s like to be shot?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve never felt that, though.’

  ‘So how do you go if you’re out and about and you get one of these visions?’

  ‘I don’t really leave the house much. Yesterday was the first time I’d driven in years.’

  I looked at his face. Suddenly I got it. He wasn’t just here to say sorry. He wanted something. All the questions had a point. I should have realised he wasn’t just making casual conversation, he was a detective after all. A hot flush crept up my neck and over my cheeks. Yesterday he and his bitchy partner had sent me packing after making me feel about two inches tall and now he was here because he wanted my help.

  ‘Forget it,’ I said.

  ‘Forget what?’

  ‘I’m not going to help you.’

  ‘Why not? Isn’t that what you wanted to do yesterday?’

  ‘I’ve changed my mind.’ I folded my arms across my chest.

  ‘I don’t understand. Yesterday you were falling all over yourself to work with me and now you don’t want to?’ He pushed his chair back and rubbed his hands through his hair in frustration.

  ‘I was hardly falling all over myself, Detective Dyson. Trust me, it’s not that much fun,’ I said with all the dignified frostiness I could manage.

  ‘Just call me Ed, OK? Look, I’ve said I’m sorry and I mean it. I really do want your help. I don’t know if you’ve heard but our only witness turned up dead yesterday. Just between you and me, we think he was killed by the same person who killed Janet Hodgson.’

  ‘Half the town knows that.’

  ‘They do?’

  ‘Yes, I was in Mrs McCredie’s yesterday and she was convinced he was murdered.’

  ‘Mrs McCredie again? That woman has a mouth the size of a front-end loader.’

  I had to smile. It was a pretty accurate description.

  ‘The problem is that we have no leads. We were hoping you would give us a hand and see if Old Mick saw the killer before he died.’

  ‘You’re kidding, right? Yesterday you couldn’t get rid of me quickly enough and now you’re asking me to throw myself in front of a semitrailer for you?’

  ‘Um, yes, I suppose I am, in a manner of speaking.’

  I just sat there and looked at him. The guy had balls. ‘I don’t really see why I should. Surely you have something else?’

  ‘Nothing concrete. Look, I’m going to be up front with you and this bit really does have to stay between you and me. We think that Janet Hodgson might have been the latest in a series of murders. When you picked out those missing women from the board the other day you actually gave us a connection. We think there are six victims, seven if you include Old Mick. All of them except for Mick were women with green eyes.’

  I gaped at him. Surely he was taking the piss? How could someone like me have found a link when they couldn’t? It didn’t inspire much faith in their detecting abilities.

  ‘We think the killer has been taking one victim a year in a two-week period from late June to early July,’ he added.

  ‘So if he’s killed this year doesn’t that give you a whole year to work out who he is before the next victim?’ I asked.

  ‘Yeah, it’s possible but unfortunately we think he’s taking these women because he wants their eyes. He didn’t mean to kill Janet Hodgson straight away. He was coming back for her. She died of a heart attack brought on by stress. That means he didn’t get a chance to take her or her eyes. We think there’s a good chance he’s going to try again.’

  I started to feel ill. Some sick, perverted person was out there snatching women so he could collect their eyes? It wasn’t something I wanted to spend any time imagining. It was the sort of thing you saw on American TV shows, not something that happened in sleepy little towns like this one.

  Ed reached for the coffee pot and poured us both another coffee. I sipped and tried to sort out how I felt. Did I want to know what it felt like to be run down by a semitrailer? Nope — not now, not ever. Did I feel like I should help to stop a serial killer if I could? Yes, unfortunately.

  I glared at him. He wisely decided to say nothing.

  ‘You know I can’t refuse, don’t you?’ I said, sounding crabby even to my own ears.

  ‘I realise how hard it must be for you.’

  ‘Do you? Do you know what it feels like to die? No, I don’t think you do, so keep your platitudes to yourself and while we’re at it, let’s get something straight. I’m going to help you because I don’t want another person to get hurt, not because I have some weird desire to get close to you.’ I spat the words out.

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Is there anything else I need to know?’ I said.

  ‘Yeah, as a matter of fact there is. He killed and left behind one of the other victims. He took her eyes. That’s the main reason we think we’ve got a serial killer who’s collecting eyes.’

  I stared at him in shock. ‘So you’re telling me you want me to look at not one but two murder scenes?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Did he take her eyes before or after she died?’ It came out as a whisper. For some inexplicable reason the thought of experiencing having my eyes cut out was even more horrifying than the thought of being hit by a truck. I didn’t think I could do it.

  ‘The pathologist said it was done afterwards.’

  ‘Thank God.’

  I wrapped my arms around myself. I felt terribly cold despite the warmth of the kitchen. For as long as I could remember my main aim in life had been to avoid having visions. The result had been almost ten years of self-imposed exile. Now I was actually contemplating having two visions in a row by choice. It was insane.

  ‘I don’t know if I’m strong enough to do it.’ Fear made my voice waver.

  He studied me carefully. He would’ve had to be blind and stupid not to see how scared I was. ‘I’ll be there with you.’ He reached out and took my hand in his.

  His words slid over me. They didn’t do anything to calm the pit of anxiety in my stomach. I snatched my hand back. If he had meant to soothe me with his touch he had achieved the exact opposite. It was at that moment that Gran came barrelling into the kitchen through the back door. She stopped dead when she saw the two of us sitting there. A smile flitted across her face then disappeared as she took in the scene before her.

  ‘Hello, Detective Dyson, Cass. Is everything all right?’

  ‘No, not really, Gran,’ I said.

  She looked at me waiting for some kind of explanation but when she didn’t get one she turned her attention to Ed.

  ‘Detective Dyson?’

  ‘I’ve just been asking Cass to help. It involves her experiencing the deaths of two murder victims.’

  ‘Cass? You don’t have to do it you know.’

  ‘I think I do, Gran.’

  She walked over to me and put her arm around my shoulders, kissing the top of my head.

  ‘You do what you think you need to, dear. Detective Dyson, you will need to look after her if she does this for you.’

  ‘I will,’ he said.

  ‘No, I don’t mean in the conventional sense. I mean you really have to look after her. When she has a vision she’s unaware of anything else around her. You need to make sure nothing happens to her. After it’s over she’s weak and disoriented and very distressed. She’ll need a quiet place where she can recuperate before you start asking her any questions.’

  Gran sounded so unlike her normal, easy-going self as she barked out instructions that I almost smiled in spite of myself. Ed sat there like a small boy being told off by a school marm, nodding as she fired off instructions.

  ‘When did you want me to do it?’ I asked.

  ‘Today.’

  ‘What, both of them?’ I squeaked.

&nbs
p; ‘Yes, one in Adelaide, so we probably won’t be back until later this evening.’

  I blinked in shock. I hadn’t considered that he might want me to do it straight away, but there was never going to be a good time.

  ‘I’d better shower and get dressed then.’ I stood up and glanced at Gran. Going by the expression on her face — knitted brows and lips of string — she had a few more choice things she wanted to say to Detective Ed Dyson. Good. He deserved it.

  CHAPTER

  20

  Ed drove in silence. Cass was lost in her own thoughts. She hadn’t taken very long to get ready, much to his relief. He was still smarting from the chewing out her grandmother had given him. She’d told him in no uncertain terms that his behaviour of the day before was not acceptable. She’d told him she was sorry for his loss but that it did not excuse boorish behaviour and that he basically needed to grow up, get over himself and learn to recognise when someone was being genuine. He sat there, eyes downcast. He couldn’t even feel very annoyed about it. Everything she’d said was true.

  Ed looked at Cass out of the corner of his eye. She was wearing a moss-green jumper and jeans. She didn’t look like she was wearing any make-up; she didn’t need it anyway, she had perfect skin. When she’d opened the door to him dressed in a daggy dressing gown and ridiculous pink pyjamas he’d almost laughed out loud. It was the look on her face that stopped him. She was so grumpy about being disturbed that any smart comments on his part weren’t going to get him very far.

  ‘Which one are we going to first?’ she asked.

  ‘I thought we’d go where Old Mick died first. Better to do South Road while it’s still daylight. Less chance of us getting run over.’

  ‘Tell me about the other one. Who was she and how did she die?’ Cass asked.

  ‘Her name was Marcy Lucas and she worked at Adelaide University. She was attacked on the way to her car one evening. We think the killer meant to take her with him like the others. Initially he knocked her out with some chloroform but then he must have changed his mind so he killed her and took her eyes.’

  ‘How did he kill her?’

  ‘He broke her neck.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Would you experience that if she was already unconscious?’ Ed asked.

  ‘I don’t think so. It would be like the Janet Hodgson one. I only experienced it to the point where she passed out.’

  ‘So it shouldn’t be too bad for you then?’

  ‘I suppose not if you think being attacked and having a chloroform-soaked rag held over your face is not too bad,’ Cass said.

  ‘Point taken, I just meant that compared to Old Mick’s, it shouldn’t be as horrible.’

  ‘Yeah, great, let’s save the nice murder for later.’

  ‘I can’t say anything right, can I?’

  ‘Nope.’

  Ed sighed. He was trying really hard but she wasn’t making it easy. After his performance yesterday he couldn’t blame her. He decided to change tack and try to take her mind off what was ahead.

  ‘Tell me about your family. Is it just the three of you?’

  ‘Yeah, none of us has a great track record with men. My granddad died of cancer, my dad up and left and I’m heading for spinsterhood at a rapid rate.’

  Ed grimaced, so much for putting her in a better frame of mind.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to sound quite so snarly. My granddad was a lovely man and he and Gran were very much in love. Gran just hasn’t been interested in anyone since he died. With my dad there was nothing very unusual; he and Mum just weren’t suited. Her talent was only part of the problem. As for me, I’ve just never met the right person. I don’t really get out and about enough.’

  ‘Socialising might be risky with your particular talent. It might freak people out if you had a vision in the middle of a party. Has that ever happened?’

  ‘Not at a party but it did happen when I was in a car with a date once. For some reason I never saw him again.’ Cass laughed.

  Ed relaxed a fraction. She had a great laugh and it lifted the mood in the car.

  ‘So does your gran have a talent too? Is it something that all the women in your family have?’

  ‘Yeah, we think it started with the German side of the family about three hundred years ago. We’re not sure though because back then they had to be a bit careful about telling people in case they got labelled witches. Gran’s a healer.’

  Ed’s eyebrows shot up, ‘I’m surprised that everyone isn’t flocking to her door.’

  ‘She doesn’t really do it much any more, not for clients anyway. Besides, she’s not the messiah. She can’t perform miracles. What she does is speed up the healing process. If someone can be healed, then she helps.’

  ‘So if someone is dying she can’t help them?’

  ‘That’s right; she tried to help Granddad and nearly died herself in the process.’

  ‘So how come you all have different talents? Isn’t that a bit weird?’

  ‘What and all of us having the same talent would be less weird?’ She laughed again. ‘Let’s face it, we broke the mould when it comes to weird. I do know that these things tend to run in families. We’re a bit unusual though because we all have really strong talents and it hasn’t skipped any generations yet. The way I understand it is that, genetically, we’re geared to be psychically sensitive. For each of us it manifests itself in a different way.’

  Ten minutes later they turned onto South Road. Two kilometres further on, Ed pulled over to the side of the road and stopped the car. Cass sat there staring out of the windscreen before throwing open the car door and stepping outside. Ed followed and stood just behind her. Cars and trucks whizzed past her creating a backdraft that whipped her hair around her face. The grass on the verge was sodden and their feet sank into the ground. Ed shivered and tried to stamp his feet, creating a wet sucking sound as the mud reluctantly let go of each foot. He rubbed his hands together, trying to keep his circulation going.

  He watched Cass look around. It was a desolate scene. Empty farmland stretched from both sides of the road. There were no animals in sight, just muddy fields dotted with the occasional tree, twisted and gnarled by battering from the wind.

  After a few moments he walked up beside her and gently put a hand under her elbow. She flinched at the contact but didn’t move away.

  ‘It’s over this way. How do you want to do this? Do you want me to walk with you or just watch?’

  ‘You need to walk with me. If I have a vision I’ll lose sight of everything except what I’m seeing in my head. You’ll need to make sure I don’t really walk in front of a truck.’

  She walked over to where he’d indicated. The grass had been churned up by traffic, leaving a quagmire. Taking one careful step at a time, she walked into the muddy mess. Ed walked close behind her, holding his breath as he waited to see what would happen. She walked onto the edge of the road and stopped.

  ‘Cass?’

  She didn’t answer him. She just stood there, swaying slightly each time a truck whizzed past. He walked around and looked at her face. What he saw made him wish he hadn’t. Her eyes were enormous, the pupils so large her eyes looked black. She stared sightlessly, without blinking. Her pale skin had gone almost blue with the cold and her mouth was hanging open in fear. He wanted to reach out and touch her but he didn’t dare. The seconds dragged past with excruciating slowness. Without warning, Cass took a sharp rasping breath then gave a long, gut-wrenching scream. She swayed and Ed thought she was going to fall. Instinct took over and he grabbed her. A sudden jolt of agony shot up his arms as he touched her. Then it was over. She blinked and wobbled and her knees gave out.

  Ed held her, supporting her weight. She leant heavily against him, resting her head on his shoulder. She shook violently and cried with deep, uncontrollable sobs. He half carried, half walked her
back to the car and helped her inside. Running around to the other side he started the engine and turned the heater up full bore. He sat there, watching her anxiously, rubbing her back as she cried. His heart was pounding in his chest and his gut was clenched with anxiety. That scream had scared the crap out of him and the sudden pain he’d felt was like a massive electric shock. Fishing around behind the passenger’s seat he found an old and battered box of tissues and passed it to her. He felt completely helpless. He knew now why Cass’s grandmother had been so adamant that he look after her.

  Gradually Cass started to regain control. She took deep shaking breaths. After another five minutes she slowly turned her head and looked at him. Her face was puffy and blotchy.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  She looked at him. Her eyes held so much pain he had to look away.

  ‘I don’t think I’ll ever feel OK after that,’ she whispered.

  ‘Can you talk about it yet?’ He didn’t want to press her but he really wanted to know what she’d seen.

  ‘Start the car and find me a place that sells coffee. I need a few more minutes and a hot drink first.’

  The car was so hot that sweat was starting to run into his eyes. He didn’t dare turn the heat down, though; Cass was still blue. He wasn’t sure if it was from fear or cold but either way, the heat seemed to be helping.

  A short time later they were tucked into a booth in the petrol station diner, mugs of steaming coffee clasped in their hands. Cass took a few sips then slowly put the mug down and looked at him.

  ‘It was the same person; the same killer.’

  ‘How do you know? What did you see?’ Ed had so many questions he hardly knew where to start.

  ‘The vision started in a car. I couldn’t move. I was looking at my hands in my lap and trying to move them but I couldn’t. The man sitting next to me said something about it hurting a bit but not as much as the next bit would, then he laughed. It was the same laugh.’ She shuddered as she said it.