Hindsight (9781921997211)

by Casey, Melanie

  ‘Shit! Fuck, Ed, even if you’re right you can’t go there by yourself.’

  ‘I’m not waiting for backup. If I wait it might be too late. Call Sorenson.’

  ‘She’d tell you to wait. Shit, this guy’s fucked up. You can’t go in alone.’

  ‘Just get there as soon as you can.’ He hung up.

  Ten minutes later the scanner in his car chirruped into life. He expected it to be Fairfield but it was Noarlunga putting out a call. A young woman from Willunga hadn’t shown up for work. She was last seen at a medieval fair on the Saturday. Ed tried to work out what it might mean. Was it possible that the killer had taken another vic as well? Surely not, just taking Cass would have kept him busy. The girl would probably turn up. Still, he didn’t like it. He should call Phil and tell her. He grabbed his phone and dialled. It beeped in his ear; no signal, he was in a black spot. It would have to wait.

  He turned his attention back to the road ahead, counting every kilometre that passed. Hold on, Cass, he pleaded silently, I need you to be strong and survive.

  CHAPTER

  29

  I spent the night alternating between despair and bitter anger. My wrists and ankles were raw and bleeding from struggling. The one small victory I’d had was to force the gag out of my mouth with my tongue and teeth and by worrying it on my shoulder. There was something to be said for slippery, clean hair.

  Every so often I called out softly to the girl lying on the table. I wanted her to know she wasn’t alone; small comfort that must have been, given that I couldn’t do anything to help her. I cried so much that I was hoarse and every blink of my eyelids felt like sandpaper. I lost track of time. I was exhausted, my head was pounding and the stabbing pain behind my eyes was excruciating.

  Despite everything, I eventually fell asleep. I don’t know how long I was out but the next thing I knew a loud noise woke me and I lifted my head, groaning at the pain. Then a different type of pain hit me. My bladder was so full I would wet my pants if I didn’t use the toilet soon.

  ‘Good morning, Cassandra. I see you’ve managed to remove your gag. That was naughty of you.’

  His voice brought all the events of the night rushing back.

  ‘Don’t make me remind you of your manners again.’ He walked around in front of me and smiled. There was no mirth in it.

  ‘Good morning,’ I mumbled.

  ‘That’s better, manners are important. If you are going to have breakfast with me and Ginny, I expect you to be on your best behaviour.’

  ‘Can I use the toilet?’

  ‘What do we say?’

  I recognised the tone. It was the one every parent used with their toddler. It was so surreal I could hardly comprehend it. Here was a man who had killed so many women, worrying about whether or not I said please.

  ‘Please?’ I whispered.

  ‘Yes, you may. I’m going to undo your wrists and ankles but before I do I want you to understand something. How I treat you and Lucy is in your hands. If you try to run away, if you try to hurt either me or Ginny, I will kill you both as slowly and painfully as I can. Understand?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good.’

  He bent down to undo the ties around my ankles. He walked around behind me and did the same with my wrists. The rope was stuck to my flesh and as it came away it left raw, oozing wounds. Trying to flex my hands or feet caused sharp stabbing pins and needles. I struggled out of the chair. He pushed me in the direction of the stairs. I glanced over at Lucy. I’d been wondering why the effects of the drugs hadn’t worn off, now I could see. He had her hooked up to a drip. She was lying there, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. I hoped she wasn’t aware of what was happening to her.

  I stumbled the short distance to the stairs. I could see the room better now that I was standing. It was a basement. The steel table with Lucy was in the middle of the room. The wall on the right had a large metal door and some kind of electronic control panel with gauges and buttons.

  He made an impatient noise and nudged me to keep walking. I recoiled from the contact and moved slowly forward. Feeling still hadn’t returned to my feet and I felt like I was walking on blocks of cold meat. I slowly made my way up the stairs. Eventually I made it and I pushed the door open and stepped into a kitchen.

  ‘Toilet is through that door. Remember, don’t try anything silly. There’s no way out of here. All the doors are deadlocked and the windows have security bars on them.’

  I shuffled over to the door he’d pointed to and for a few minutes all I could focus on was the blessed relief. That done, I looked around the small cubicle; it had one small window, with bars on the outside. That was it. Taking a deep breath I stepped out. He was waiting for me, standing casually by the kitchen table in the centre of the room. On the table was a neat pile of clothes, a hairbrush, a cosmetic bag and a towel.

  ‘Ginny doesn’t get much female company so I want you to look your best. Through that door is a bathroom. Go shower and change. By the time you’re finished, breakfast will be ready. Don’t take too long please. I don’t want to keep Ginny waiting. It’s our anniversary, and we have a big day planned.’ He laughed.

  That laugh sent a fresh batch of chills knifing down my back as I remembered the other times that I’d heard it: when he was killing Janet, when he was taunting old Mick. How could such a monster walk around looking so normal? There should have been something about him that gave some hint about the twisted soulless thing beneath his skin.

  I walked over to the table, picked up the pile and went into the bathroom without speaking. Like the toilet there was no lock on the door. The room was bare and utilitarian; plain white tiles on the walls and floor, very basic sanitary ware and cheap fittings. There was a small white vanity unit with one cupboard and three drawers. A glimmer of hope flickered as I looked at it. I turned on the shower and spent a few quick minutes looking through it. I was desperately hoping there would be something I could use as a weapon. My hopes faded quickly. There was nothing: no razors, no scissors.

  The only thing I spotted was a small bottle of what I thought were sleeping pills. I stashed them under the pile of clothes. Just maybe I would get the chance to slip some into his breakfast. The chances were slim but it was better than nothing. I quickly showered and dressed in the clothes he’d given me, all except for the underwear — I refused to wear the underwear he’d placed in the pile. Just wearing the clothes was bad enough. They made my skin crawl. Were they a dead woman’s clothes? I shuddered at the thought then folded my old clothes and put them in a neat pile next to the door.

  I took five capsules out of the bottle I’d found. Working quickly in case he came in, I took a piece of toilet paper, opened each and tipped its contents into the centre of the paper and then carefully folded it and slipped it inside my bra. I sealed the capsules again and put them back in the bottle and replaced it where I’d found it. My heart was thundering in my chest and I was so nervous I could hardly stop my hands from shaking. I opened the door and stepped back into the kitchen. I stopped dead, arrested by the scene before me.

  Brian was standing at the stove, cooking what looked like pancakes. Three places were set at the table and seated in one of the chairs was the macabre figure he called his wife. It was even more horrific in the bright, morning light. The face was a death mask, lips drawn back over clenched teeth, skin yellowed with age and the flesh beneath it wasted away so that the outline of the skull was clearly visible. It was the gaping holes where the eyes should have been that riveted my gaze. I didn’t want to look but I couldn’t look away.

  ‘Say good morning, Cassandra,’ he said.

  ‘Good morning,’ I whispered.

  ‘Ginny has been looking forward to you joining us for breakfast. I hope you aren’t going to disappoint her?’ The quiet menace in his voice made me shiver.

  ‘No, no, I won’t.’

&nbs
p; ‘Sit down.’

  I tore my eyes away from Ginny and sat at the table. I surveyed what was in front of me. He’d placed three glasses of orange juice on the table. My heart started to pound. He turned around and looked at me.

  ‘You chat among yourselves. I’m nearly done here.’

  I battled down my feelings of revulsion and tried to think of something to say. He was watching me, waiting to see if I was going to do what he wanted. I tried to swallow.

  ‘So, Ginny, tell me how you and Brian first met.’ My voice sounded strange in my ears, hollow and high-pitched.

  He smiled and turned back to the stove. He started to talk as he went back to cooking the pancakes, telling me about how Ginny had moved in across the road from him and how it had been love at first sight. While he was distracted I quickly took the folded paper from inside my bra and with shaking fingers I emptied its contents into the glass in front of his chair. I was expecting the powder to dissolve into the juice straight away but it didn’t, it just sat there, floating on top, stark white against the bright orange.

  He turned around at that moment and I forced my eyes away from the juice, hoping he wouldn’t notice. Thankfully he was still busy telling me about his and Ginny’s whirlwind romance as he dished out the pancakes; he didn’t look at the juice. I risked a quick glance at it and to my relief the powder had disappeared, leaving some froth on the top, hopefully not enough for him to notice.

  ‘I hope you’re hungry. We don’t have company very often so I went a bit overboard.’ He smiled at me. I realised he was waiting for me to say something.

  ‘I’m hungry,’ I said, hoping the lie would satisfy him.

  He sat down and to my complete astonishment he bowed his head and started to say grace. My mouth dropped open in total disbelief. He must have felt my stare because he looked up and glared at me until I dropped my head.

  ‘Dear Lord, thank you for the blessings you bestow on us, thank you for bringing us our guest today and thank you for the food we are about to receive, Amen.’

  He reached for his glass. I held my breath, willing him to drink it all down; hoping he wouldn’t notice the froth sitting on top or realise there was something wrong with it. He took a sip and then screwed up his face in disgust. He held the glass up to his nose and sniffed. A wave of panic hit me. I gripped the edge of the table. Should I try to run for it? He looked at me, frowning.

  ‘I must apologise, Cassandra, the juice isn’t right, it must have turned. Can I get you something else to drink? Water, perhaps?’

  ‘A glass of water would be good, thank you.’ I actually meant it. My mouth was so dry it felt raw. I was dizzy. He got up, cleared the juice away then fetched three glasses of water, placing them on the table. Then he sat back down and started to eat. I sat there, motionless, partly overcome with relief, partly numb from the stress.

  ‘You’re not eating.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I mumbled. Raising my arms took supreme effort but I managed it. I grabbed the water and drank half of it down in one draught. Then I turned to the plate of pancakes in front of me. The thought of eating was totally repugnant but what choice did I have? I took a mouthful and forced myself to chew and swallow. He watched me expectantly. Oh God, he’s waiting for praise.

  ‘Very nice,’ I said. In truth I could have been eating cardboard. All I was concerned with was keeping up the charade, hoping that with enough time a miracle would happen and someone would find me, find us. My mind wandered back to the girl downstairs. I hoped she was still alive.

  ‘So tell me, did your mother know you were a prophetess when she called you Cassandra? Surely it can’t be a coincidence?’

  ‘No, it’s not a coincidence.’ The truth was that when Mum chose the name, she chose it thinking there was little chance of my having precognitive talents like she did. Of course Mum’s knowledge of ancient Greek mythology was crap and the ancient Cassandra could see both the past and the future. She was a terribly tragic figure; kidnapped and taken to a foreign country only to be murdered. The name fitted my talent and at the moment I couldn’t help thinking the bit about being tragic fitted pretty well too.

  ‘I guess you didn’t foresee your fate, did you, Cassandra?’ He sniggered.

  His laugh made my skin crawl. He repulsed me. I gagged on the piece of pancake in my mouth. His smile turned to a frown.

  ‘Tell me about your gift. How was it that you managed to help the police put it all together?’

  ‘I really don’t like to talk about it,’ I said. I couldn’t bear the thought of revealing even one small detail about my personal life to him.

  ‘You’re not very good company are you, Cassandra?’ His mirth evaporated. ‘I don’t see any point in continuing this if you’re not going to make an effort.’ He pushed his chair back and stood up. He started to snatch plates up off the table, dumping them in the sink. I quickly finished my water. He snatched the glass out of my hand, making me recoil from his touch.

  He turned to the thing he called Ginny. ‘I’m sorry, darling. I know you don’t like it when I lose my temper but I think it’s best if we just get on with things. Our guest doesn’t appreciate our efforts.’

  I sat there trying to work out what to do. If I tried to placate him I could just make things worse. I didn’t know what getting ‘on with things’ meant but I didn’t think it was going to be good for me or the girl downstairs.

  Instinct got the better of me and I jumped out of my chair. I dashed for the only door I could reach and tried to wrench it open. It was locked. Before I could turn around he was behind me. He grabbed me by the hair and yanked my head back, making me squeal.

  ‘That was very stupid, Cassandra. Now I have no choice. I have to tie you up again.’ He grabbed one of my arms and twisted it behind my back. Tears welled in my eyes. Keeping hold of my hair, he walked me back towards the door to the basement.

  ‘I’m sorry. I panicked. I won’t do it again. Please don’t tie me up,’ I pleaded.

  ‘It’s too late for sorry. You had one chance and you blew it.’

  ‘Please, Brian, Ginny doesn’t want you to hurt me,’ I begged.

  ‘Don’t pretend you know Virginia!’ he roared. ‘Only I know what she wants!’ He yanked my hair again, so hard that I yelped.

  He marched me down the stairs to the basement and forced me back into the chair I’d spent the night in. I tried to get up and away from him but he twisted my arm with such savagery that I thought I heard something snap. The agony of it sucked the breath out of me. I sank into the chair, sobbing with pain and frustration.

  ‘Have you forgotten what I told you? If you make this difficult I will make your death and hers as painful as I can.’

  I had barely glanced at the prone figure on the table I was so intent on my own struggle and the pain he was inflicting on me. I looked over at her now. Her skin looked like wax it was so white. Hang on.

  He left me sitting there and went back upstairs. I tested the rope around my ankles and wrists. It was rock solid. Every movement of my left arm was agony. The pain radiated from my shoulder, down my arm and across my back. My fingers were tingling and starting to go numb. I was half gasping, half whimpering with the effort and tears of frustration were running down my face.

  I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to watch that poor girl die. This was not how my life was supposed to end; surely Mum would have seen something when she looked at my future?

  I heard the door open again and his footfall on the stairs. I refused to turn and look at him. His face was already imprinted on my mind and I was afraid that even if I managed to survive I would never be able to shut my eyes again without seeing it.

  He walked past me carrying Ginny in his arms and gently lowered her into the chair next to the desk. He wheeled it over so it was next to the surgical table and just out of my line of sight. Then he walked back to me. Every part of me tens
ed. He grabbed my chair and wrenched it around so I had full view of the table. Then he walked back over to where Ginny was and took one of her hands in his.

  ‘Are you ready darling? It’s so exciting isn’t it? I can’t wait for you to be able to look at me again.’ He smiled tenderly at her and stroked what used to be her cheek.

  Abruptly he turned and stepped over to the table with Lucy on it. He looked at her, checked her pulse and checked the drip. Satisfied, he went over to one of the cabinets against the wall and started placing instruments on a metal tray.

  ‘Stop!’ I yelled ‘Please, don’t hurt her.’

  He ignored me, methodically placing things on the tray. Tears were flooding down my face again. He was going to kill her and take her eyes right in front of me and there was nothing I could do to stop him.

  ‘Stop it! You can’t do this! Ginny is dead. She doesn’t need eyes!’ I screamed. I yanked against the ropes, ignoring the pain, desperate to try to just do something to stop him. ‘Help! Someone help us! Please!’

  He opened a drawer and pulled out some bandages. He walked over to me and grabbed me roughly by the jaw. His hand moved in front of my face and I lunged forward and bit down hard. He yelled in pain and tried to yank his hand back. I bit down harder and tasted blood. He swung at me and his fist smacked into my jaw with a crack. With angry grunts, he forced my mouth open and pushed a roll of bandage inside, then with swift motions he wrapped another bandage around my head and over my mouth, tying it hard and tight.

  Satisfied, he walked back to the table. He carefully disinfected and bandaged his hand then he added a couple more things to the tray. He snapped on a pair of gloves and picked up a scalpel off the tray. Leaning over the girl he smiled.

  ‘Hello, Lucy. I’m sorry, but this might hurt a bit. I hope you understand though, your eyes are going to good use. Ginny and I are very grateful, aren’t we, darling?’