by Anne Buist
‘Exactly.’ Natalie was wandering around his office. ‘Simplest explanations are usually best, right?’ she added, more to herself.
‘If you’re talking about behaviour, then yes. People are complicated but their actions are usually self-serving and rarely thought through. And most of them are not good liars.’
Which was why they got caught: poorly equipped people making bad choices. Psychopaths, who manipulated and lied as a matter of course, had a chance of getting away with it. Liam would say it was better than incarcerating the innocent.
Natalie paused to look at a new bust Declan had put up on the mantelpiece; she wasn’t sure who it was and didn’t want to show her ignorance. She caught her reflection in the mirror. Could she lie too? Well enough to fool Declan and the police? If Declan worked out what she was doing, would he put it down to her bipolar or to poor judgment? He’d have to report her to the Medical Board either way.
Declan’s forehead wrinkled into deep crevices as he watched her. She had no doubt he understood what drove her—some of the time; she was also pretty sure he had no idea what she was capable of.
Declan spoke to the back of her head. ‘If you’re trying to pick the lies, think about motive. People, even if they’re not psychopaths, look after themselves.’
‘Which means everyone is lying.’ Natalie’s laugh felt harsh in her throat.
‘Then bring in your personality assessment. The psychopaths will lie more convincingly: remember they routinely pass lie detector tests. But they’ll lie over even small things, which is where you may pick them up. Why they are late, how they got the stain on their shirt. Whether they masturbate.’
Declan laughed and added, ‘If they say they don’t you can be sure they’re lying.’
Natalie was conscious that Declan had made his quip calculatedly but couldn’t manage the groan that would have been her normal reaction.
Declan continued. ‘In the person without frank psychopathy, emotions will ultimately show through. Particularly if you catch them unawares on the big things.’ Travis.
She thought of some of the harder interviews she had done. The trouble wasn’t that there were no emotions on display, it was deciding whether the emotions were a genuine response to the patient’s situation or an attempt to manipulate the therapist. Georgia and Paul. Amber and Travis. Tiphanie and Travis. All with complex motivations, some but not all self-serving.
‘What if I decide they are lying? I have a responsibility to my patients, of course. But don’t I have a responsibility to society as well?’
‘If you’re called to court, yes. Then you give your truth, whole truth and nothing but the truth. To the best of your professional judgment. Making it clear that’s all it is.’
In Amber’s case there had been no chance to tell the whole truth.
‘Is this the missing child case?’
‘Among others.’
Declan removed his reading glasses. ‘Tiphanie’s charges haven’t been dropped?’
‘No,’ said Natalie.
‘Even though Travis probably did it?’
‘Murdered his child? Yes.’ She thought about the wet clothes, the messy kitchen, Amber’s scalded face. Oh yes, he murdered his child all right. Then she froze. Travis. She stared at Declan. ‘You know.’
‘Of course I do,’ said Declan. ‘I had hoped you would tell me.’
‘I…I haven’t interviewed Travis, just Tiphanie.’
‘You knew you were too close to this case, too much baggage from Amber.’
‘Yes, but that also gave me motivation to get it right this time.’
‘Motivation and bias.’
‘He did it!’
‘It doesn’t matter, Natalie.’ Declan’s voice was hard. ‘I have to be able to trust you, and your patients have to know you are balanced.’
‘I didn’t lie, but I’m sorry.’ She looked involuntarily at her handbag, where her USB stick was waiting for her to decide what to do about it.
‘You’re too close to this, Natalie.’
Even if he was right, it was too late now. Her mind was more focused. No matter what Declan said. Sometimes confidentiality wasn’t the highest value.
The prison guards were more annoying than usual. She recognised one of them as Jen from the earlier visit. Natalie steeled herself and vowed to smile and not lose her temper. Yes, she should have rung. No, she wasn’t Hannah Peterson’s shrink. She wanted to see her anyway. Natalie waited.
It was nearly two hours before she sat down with Hannah in the empty visitors’ area.
‘Is there a problem with Jessie?’ Hannah looked worried, lighting up a cigarette.
‘No, well no more than usual,’ said Natalie. ‘We’re talking about those nightmares though.’
Hannah nodded. ‘I figured from last time I spoke with Jessie. You saw whatever that arsehole filmed?’
Natalie hesitated. ‘I’d like her to give it to the police.’
Hannah looked at her grimly. ‘I know people who might deal with him better.’
Tempting. Maybe the backup plan.
‘That isn’t why I’m here.’
Hannah drew on her cigarette.
‘Remember I asked you about the paedophile network. The one that used pink bunny rabbits to entice the children?’
Hannah crossed her arms, dropping ash over her jeans.
‘I know you know something.’ Natalie had been manic when she’d last seen Hannah; she hoped she had read her right. ‘I need you to tell me.’
‘Why?’
Natalie chose her words carefully. ‘Because more than one person’s life is involved here.’
‘It won’t hurt Jessie?’
‘The paedophile ring is going to be busted anyway. I don’t know what videos are out there, exactly what will come out or how it will affect her.’ Natalie paused. ‘Whatever happens, I can help her work through it.’
Hannah nodded and leaned forward. ‘I won’t stand up in court and say this.’
‘That’s okay. This is just for me.’
‘One of the other women that was here. Her man was into little girls.’
Natalie nodded. It was one of several hypotheses she needed to test. ‘The pink bunny rabbit?’
‘She mentioned it. That’s all.’
‘Did he have the pink rabbits,’ asked Natalie, ‘or were they just like…logos. In videos?’
Hannah frowned. ‘Not sure. Never asked really. This sick shit isn’t my thing. Men aren’t my thing.’
Natalie nodded, deep in thought. ‘Hannah,’ she said slowly, ‘in Jessie’s nightmares, did she ever mention a rabbit?’
‘Jessie never like stuffed toys. She was into Japanese cartoons.’ Hannah flicked her cigarette end towards the wardens. They weren’t looking.
‘Were they in her nightmares?’
‘Not that I recall. It was pretty weird. She had a tattoo, kind of rabbits. She kept trying to cut it out herself. I made her get it removed. They stuffed it up and had to put another o
ver the top.’
Natalie stared. Jessie’s shoulder. Fuck. She could almost make it out in her memory. Jessie hadn’t mentioned a rabbit in therapy. Ever. Nor had there been one in the video of her. Natalie figured it had started later. Maybe something Jessie had drawn for him and he’d fetishised it. It was an indicator that this early experience had been formative for him in the development of his sexual pathology. Encapsulated in the child-adult form of a rabbit.
‘Who mentioned the pink bunny?’
‘One of yours,’ said Hannah. ‘She had the rabbit tattoo as well.’ She pulled out another cigarette and lit it off the previous one, inhaling and watching the smoke she blew into the air dissipate before she continued. ‘Her old man got her young. Celeste.’
‘Do you know if Celeste’s brother was involved too?’
‘No idea.’
Natalie took a breath. Now to test her next hypothesis. ‘Did other women here listen to this story?’
Hannah snorted. ‘Listen? We were cheering her on. You know she cut his dick off, right? Believe me, you want to get one of them sick fucks sorted out, just give me the word. We’ll all be fighting over which one of us does it.’ She dropped her butt and ground it under her heel, smearing ash over the concrete. ‘Jessie’s at least died.’
‘Did she ever tell you it was her father?’
‘Sure.’ Hannah stopped. ‘Actually I don’t know. Her dreams never had any real person in them. I just presumed, I guess.’
‘When you were all cheering,’ said Natalie, ‘what about those women that are segregated? Were they there?’
Hannah frowned. ‘Some do-gooder group was here, they got us thinking about our pasts. Like that would help.’ She laughed. ‘Sorry. It got a bit out of control. But yes, they had us all in together with extra screws to keep an eye on the special inmates.’
‘Hannah,’ Natalie asked. ‘Why did Jessie come to see me?’
‘I pushed her to. She wasn’t doing well.’
‘Why me?’
‘Amber Hardy thinks you’re God’s gift to the underdog. The doc here thinks you get over-involved.’ She grinned. ‘Sounded like a good thing to me. We saw you take out the prosecutor on TV.’
Great. ‘So, not Georgia?’ Natalie was talking more to herself than Hannah. Maybe this was why Georgia had wanted to see her too: at Amber’s recommendation. They would have been in the same unit. Amber had thought she was a hero for tackling Travis. Had Georgia thought she would do the same to Paul, only inside the courtroom?
Natalie squeezed Hannah’s shoulder in farewell and was halfway to the door when she turned back. ‘One last question.’ Hannah hadn’t moved, head down picking at her fingernails. ‘How did the police catch you?’
Hannah frowned. ‘No idea. Someone dobbed me in. The guy with me swears it wasn’t him and he certainly didn’t get any cosy deal. Longer sentence than me.’
‘Jessie knew about…what you’d done?’
‘No fucking way would she lag.’ Hannah stood up abruptly.
‘No,’ agreed Natalie. ‘She wouldn’t.’
Natalie opened the locker to retrieve her belongings. She felt she was close to making sense of more than just Jessie’s case, but the pieces of the puzzle wouldn’t quite fit. She had resisted the idea that her cases were linked but the evidence was accumulating. It wasn’t coincidence: they were tied together through the prison and Yarra Bend, through the patients’ common histories of abuse that had made them vulnerable to mental illness, and to her through her specialisation and appearance on the infanticide documentary.
The guards weren’t paying her any attention; she could hear them talking about a reality TV show. She tapped on the window. Jen rolled her eyes and let the other woman open it.
‘Did you know Georgia Latimer when she was here?’ she asked the guard that wasn’t Jen.
‘Sure. Model little psychopath.’
‘She was studying, wasn’t she?’
‘Yeah.’ The guard didn’t sound overly impressed. ‘Regular bookworm.’
‘Is there a record of what she studied?’
‘Yeah. Want to look?’
‘Yes. And—’
The prison guard looked at her expectantly.
‘Do you keep visitor records?’
Natalie jotted down some notes about Georgia’s studies. But it was the visitor records that shook her.
Chapter 32
Damian texted Natalie to say there was going to be a service for Chloe on Thursday afternoon. Tiphanie wanted to say goodbye, even though, without a body, it would be a long time before Chloe could be declared dead.
Natalie put in a half day with her ward patients, then headed southeast. The September day was windy, with intermittent rain pelting her visor. It fitted the occasion.
The church was full, with people standing at the back and along the sides. A huge photo of Chloe was propped on a chair at the front, soft toys surrounding it. She looked angelic. And the picture alone would have been enough to reduce everyone to tears, without Eric Clapton’s ‘Tears in Heaven’ playing in the background.
Natalie recognised more people than she thought she would. Travis was with his family, standing awkwardly apart from Tiphanie and hers. There were a number of police, Damian and Andie included.
Damian spotted her and strolled over. ‘You were right. Again.’
Natalie willed herself to look him in the eye. ‘A blanket?’
Damian nodded. ‘Allison was quite upfront. The blanket was usually in the car. She’d brought it inside because her heating wasn’t working.’
‘And?’
‘Forensics have identified blood. Is it going to be Chloe’s?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Natalie.
‘You asked me about the toys too. Neither were missing.’
‘Did you see them?’
‘Yes.’ He tipped his head. ‘Tiphanie has them up there with the photos. What’s this about, Natalie?’
Natalie looked across the heads to where she had seen the soft toys. Flanking the photo chair was a big pink and white rabbit that had fallen on its side and a version of Big Bird that would have been bigger than Chloe. ‘I just wondered why they hadn’t been with her that night; they were her favourites. But seems like they were too big, not the take-to-bed type of soft toys.’
Tiphanie and her family were sitting in the front row. She and Kiara gave awkward but touching eulogies. Jim and Sandra sat with a young man in a wheelchair, presumably Tiphanie’s brother William. Amber kept towards the back with her brother Cam and his wife. Natalie saw no sign of Amber’s mother; babysitting, presumably.
At the end of the ceremony, most of the mourners headed towards Tiphanie. Cam spoke with his sister and left. Amber looked unsure of what she should do. Natalie went up to her.
‘She won’t blame you,’ she said.
‘No, I know.’ Amber replied. ‘I just…Well it’s an awful time and I don’t want to intrude.’
‘You appreciated your friends’ support,’ Natalie said. ‘Are Rick and Allison here today?’
Amber seemed to know who she was talking about. She looked around and pointed to a couple heading out the door.
‘Go wish her the best,’ Natalie suggested, and as Amber went in one direction she went in the other, following Rick and Allison.
‘I’m curious,’ said Natalie after introducing herself. ‘Do you have any idea what was wrong with Travis’s car?’
Rick shrugged his shoulders. ‘Would have looked at the time if I hadn’t been smashed. Carport light wasn’t working, which didn’t help. Loose battery lead, I’d guess. Electrics were dead when Travis tried it.’
Natalie nodded. This much mechanics she could manage. ‘Why didn’t you drive him home, rather than let him borrow it?’
‘No fucking way.’ It was Allison who spoke this time. ‘Next time he gets caught drink driving he goes to gaol.’
Rick looked sheepish.
Natalie made it back inside just in time to see Amber squeeze Tiphanie’s hand and leave.
Natalie arrived home exhausted. Her mind hadn’t let up for a second during the long journey but she had been unable to make sense of the recurring thoughts. Later, she blamed fatigue for her inattention. She was normally vigilant, but on this night she just wanted to grab a beer, sit on her terrace and space out watching the sunset.
Bob dive-bombed her. Natalie swiped at him and he retired to the rafter and refused to come upstairs. Natalie stared at him, her hand trembling on the banister. Shit, this stalker had her so on edge she was relying on a cockatoo instead of her expensive security system. She left the door up into the kitchen open. She figured loneliness and hunger would get the better of him.
She threw her bag on the sofa and took a beer from the fridge, aware suddenly of how quiet it was. Something was different. She walked slowly around the room. No television turned on. Fridge empty as always. She wasn’t obsessional enough to notice if he had switched anything around. Had he just walked through, touching things? Surely he couldn’t have found a way of dismantling the alarm? Even if he had, her cameras would have caught him, maybe with a better angle this time. She walked over to the security unit and played the tapes. Nothing. She was letting this bastard get to her.