by Anne Buist
Natalie voice-dialled the laboratory: ‘I was talking to one of your lab techies a while ago. I need to ask him something. Luke. Is he there?’
‘Sorry, Luke is on sick leave today.’
Bad sign.
‘Damn. I’ll try Monday then. Can you tell me who to ask for? Luke what?’
‘Luke Karlsson.’
‘K and two S’s?’
‘I guess.’
It took several interactions with an automated voice at directory assistance before she got an operator.
‘Do you know the suburb?’
‘No,’ said Natalie. ‘I think inner city though.’
‘I have an L Karlsson in Northcote and one in North Melbourne.’
Natalie went for the Northcote one, noticing that she’d missed a call from Declan, no doubt waiting at the College and wondering where she was.
The Margaret Karlsson who answered was married to Lars and didn’t know a Luke. She tried the North Melbourne number. No answer. Natalie tried directory assistance again.
‘Williamstown?
Maybe…but it would be a bit of a commute across the Westgate Bridge to his work in Richmond.
‘More eastern or northern, probably?’
‘How about Thornbury?’
A woman answered. Jenna’s voice. Natalie hung up. She already had the address from directory assistance.
She programmed it into the GPS. Fifteen minutes’ drive. She pushed the pedal a little. Maybe less. At least she was on the right side of town; if Malik was coming from his place, or from work, he’d have a longer drive.
She thought of SC Hudson. But she didn’t have his number. She rang Damian.
‘Can you find SC Hudson’s phone number?’
‘Natalie, I’m not your personal assistant. Or anything else in your life, something you seem to want to make a point of. You want Hudson, call the station he’s with.’ Damian sounded irritable. ‘I’m Homicide.’ He hung up.
She tried her local police station and was put in a queue. Great.
Her mind went back to Jenna and Malik. It has to be Malik. It was like Jenna needed to be right about Malik. Natalie replayed the scene…the pleading tone had been almost childlike. The occasional flashes of dissociation were also a regression. He’s always been against me seeing you. Buckling now to her father, as she had to Malik, and now Luke, or…Natalie’s hand clenched on the steering wheel as the pieces fell into place.
Luke Karlsson’s house was a weatherboard set back from the road with a neat front garden and a carport to one side. There was a blue Honda parked in it. Someone was home. Natalie pulled the Lotus up outside. There were no nearby parks so she propped it half across the driveway; if it stopped them escaping, all the better. She was still on hold at the police station; she hung up.
The house looked quiet. No obvious sign of an emergency. No way was Jenna or Malik going to deliberately hurt Chelsea. Perhaps she could talk some common sense into Jenna before Malik arrived, then take Chelsea back to Ama’s.
It was a plan, at least.
Just not a very good one.
53
It wasn’t Luke who answered the door, but Jenna. Her expression transformed from nervous expectation to anger. ‘Why don’t you just frickin’ leave me alone?’
‘If I go, it’ll be the police next. Or Malik.’
‘Go away, you’ll ruin everything. Again.’ Jenna looked nervously past her. There was no sign of anyone. ‘He applied for passports,’ she said. ‘They took photos of Chelsea. At the pharmacy.’
Shit. ‘Tell your lawyer. The court case is in three weeks, Jenna. Let it be decided properly. This will go against you.’
‘And it hasn’t already?’ Jenna glared at her. ‘I thought you would be on my side. I frickin’ asked to see you so my psych history wouldn’t be held against me but what good did that do me?’
‘This isn’t about your psych history, Jenna.’
‘It doesn’t matter anymore. No one believes me because they think I’m nuts, or a woman or ’cause of some crappy legal technicality. But I know. I told you I wouldn’t sit by and see my daughter abused. Or taken overseas. Fuck off. Now.’
The door slammed.
So much for that plan.
Natalie rang the police station again and this time got through. SC Hudson wasn’t there.
‘It’s urgent,’ said Natalie. ‘Tell him I’ve found the child he’s looking for.’ The PC took down the address but didn’t sound overly interested. It probably had ‘custody dispute’ against the job description, and they’d be about as popular as DV callouts.
Natalie sat in the car. Jenna’s retort replayed in her mind. What was Jenna afraid she would ruin? Again. Natalie had stood up for Malik—was that all it was about?
Jenna. Histrionic. Liked the drama, to be the centre of attention. Manipulated the men in her life.
What had she hoped to achieve by taking Chelsea? She can’t have planned to do a runner, because she didn’t have Chris.
A truck turned into the driveway, running up and over the pavement in order to avoid the Lotus. It still managed to clip the bumper bar; the car shuddered and Natalie groaned. Easy Tiger Imports. Malik.
Malik didn’t appear to notice Natalie, or if he did, he wasn’t wasting time acknowledging her. He was out of the car and running to the front door.
Shit. No sign of any police.
He is being a man. A father.
Malik had ended up in hospital at twelve defending his dead father’s honour. Because he was being taunted that his father was a coward for not standing up to gunmen.
Be a man. Unlike your father. Was this what Ama had taught her sons?
No rules…I will kill him.
Natalie leapt out of the car without thinking.
‘No Malik, don’t do it,’ she screamed. ‘Your children need you caring for them, not in jail.’
Malik’s stare stopped her dead. ‘Keep away, go now. This is not your fight,’ he said.
‘Let the police handle it, Malik. You go in there and something goes wrong, it will go against you.’ Like if you kill Luke. ‘Right now, the police are on your side. They’ll be here soon.’ Hopefully.
Which Jenna must know. Natalie’s mind was racing. Jenna wasn’t stupid. She can’t have thought she would get away with kidnapping Chelsea.
No—Jenna had known this would happen. Knew if she took Chelsea, Malik would come after her. And maybe Malik knew where Luke lived. He’d thrown paint over Luke’s car.
Jenna hadn’t run; she knew that the police would take Chelsea back and the court would not look positively at her behaviour. Why take Chelsea then, except to get Malik here—and why do that unless…
‘It’s a trap, Malik.’
Malik hadn’t taken his eyes off her. ‘Leave now.’
‘She wants you to go in, Malik.’ Natalie went up to him. ‘I don’t know what she’s got planned, but if anything happens…it’s hers and Luke’s word against yours.’ Providing Natalie left—and didn’t ruin everything. She grabbed Malik’s arm. ‘Come back to the car, Malik. The police will get Chelsea, and after this you’ll probably get custody of them both. Long term.’
There was a flash behind Malik’s eyes that Natalie caught a glimpse of, that she couldn’t make sense of. Regret?
‘It is too late,’ he said.
Too late. What had he done?
‘The door will be unlocked, Malik. Jenna wants you to walk in—it won’t end well.’
Malik didn’t appear to be listening. ‘Just leave!’
‘Malik, it’s you who needs to leave.’
Malik stepped forward and grabbed her arm.
‘What the fuck?’ said Natalie.
In his other hand was a gun.
54
As Natalie had predicted, Jenna had left the front door unlocked. Her expression when Natalie entered, ahead of Malik, was of fury. Until she saw the gun. Probably a good thing Jenna didn’t also have one—and that there was no sign of Luke.
‘Where is Chelsea?’ Malik’s voice had an edge that betrayed his nervousness. He pushed Natalie ahead of him. ‘Both of you, sit.’ He waved them over to a large couch covered with a throw and cushions.
Natalie took a quick look at Jenna; there was no sense of fear in her expression. Natalie grabbed her arm and pulled her down to sit beside her. She didn’t want anyone aggravating Malik. The gun didn’t sit comfortably in his hand—he would be no marksman. Which might have been reassuring if she was fleeing from him in bushland. Here it was more frightening—he was just as likely to kill one of them by mistake.
‘Where is Chelsea?’
‘Do you really think I’d have her here waiting for you?’ Not frightened at all.
‘Where have you put her, you bitch?’ Malik took a step towards them, but at least wasn’t pointing the gun with any specific intent.
‘Stop this now,’ said Natalie. ‘Listen to me, Malik. This is not how you show you are a man, nor a good father. Is this what you want Chris and Chelsea to grow up knowing? That you are in jail? That you killed their mother?’
‘They will know I protected them from her boyfriend, a man who abuses an eight-year-old girl. He and Jenna are the criminals, not me.’ He looked around warily. ‘Where is he? Have you let him take her?’
‘You will never have her, Malik. Never.’ Jenna’s voice was chilling; this was a set-up—and she intended to do whatever was necessary to ensure Malik was either in jail or dead. But what was her plan? Was Luke going to jump out of a cupboard?
Natalie felt she was running out of time. ‘You’re sinking to their level, Malik,’ she said in a rush. ‘You told me your father was an honourable man—are you sure this is his version of honour? Holding unarmed women hostage?’
‘She has no honour!’ said Malik. ‘And is no mother to either of her children. She lets this man touch her daughter.’
‘No, Malik. She didn’t.’
This time her voice was firm. The idea that had been brewing in the car after she left the school had developed clarity. ‘You have both been trying to be good parents. But neither of you knew what was going on. Who was abusing Chelsea.’
They looked at her.
‘I want to talk to you both,’ said Natalie. ‘About Chelsea. But you need to sit down, Malik.’
Malik hesitated. ‘Chelsea?’ he yelled. There was silence; Natalie could feel the house was empty. Jenna’s smirk, too, suggested her daughter wasn’t about to come out of hiding and run to Malik.
‘She isn’t here,’ said Natalie. ‘And you need to hear what I have to say. Sit.’
Malik narrowed his eyes. Moved backwards, keeping Natalie and Jenna in his sight as he checked that the kitchen was empty.
‘You have five minutes,’ he said. ‘Then Jenna must tell me where Chelsea is, or I swear I will shoot her.’
The gun might keep Jenna in her seat. Natalie wondered which story to tell; one that would deflect the blame, or the one she thought was the truth—the one she had been blind to, even in the face of her own nightmares telling her the answer.
‘I didn’t think either of you was lying.’ At least not about the abuse. ‘Jenna, I know you love your kids. Sometimes you struggle, but your intentions were always to do the right thing by your daughter. Even now, you think you’re doing what you have to. You too, Malik. You wanted to keep Chelsea safe. You were both trying to protect Chelsea and thought it was too risky to leave it to the legal profession or us psychiatrists. You both thought we might get it wrong, and your children would suffer.’
Malik’s grim expression suggested she had this right. Jenna’s was harder to read. And it was Jenna that she had to judge carefully. Natalie took a quick look at the gun in Malik’s hand.
‘Somebody has been hurting Chelsea, though. For a while, I thought it might have been her sports teacher, Ted Beahre.’
Malik frowned, looked to Jenna. Natalie might convince him. Deep down, Jenna knew the real answer. Was this the time for the truth? Was the time ever going to be right if it had been buried this deep, for this long?
‘I even had him checked out,’ Natalie continued. ‘But Chelsea’s monster was not at her school. Malik, she saw you as her saviour.’ Putting Aladdin outside the bedroom door. To stop the monster coming in.
‘Which had me thinking, like you, Malik, that it had to be Luke.’
‘It fricking wasn’t Luke.’ Jenna sat forward.
‘I know Jenna. Stay with me, okay? This is going to be tough but you want what’s best for Chelsea, and unless you hear what I have to say, then she will never be safe, no matter what you do to Malik. Like I said, she’s been hurt. You have to face the truth to be able to help her recover.’
Jenna’s look was hostile. Natalie thought about her advice to Liam. There was enough similarity between narcissists and histrionics on this point to use the same advice herself. ‘I was wrong not to trust you Jenna. I know you love your children and would do anything for them.’
The hostility eased a fraction.
‘But we were both wrong about something else, and to explain that I have to tell you a story. It won’t take long.’ Natalie didn’t have long; Malik was getting restless. It’s too late.
‘There once was a little girl, who really, really, wanted her parents to love her. But her mother wasn’t very well, and her younger siblings needed a lot of attention. So to get noticed she helped around the house and got a lot of praise, and this made her feel pretty good. But her mother wasn’t getting any better and noticed her less and less, and so she had to become like a grown-up and do far too much work at home. And her daddy kept telling her what a good girl she was, and how much he loved and appreciated her. It made her feel she was important, and she learned how to make her daddy love her more and more.
‘But he made her keep a secret. The secret came with a price, but she didn’t understand that because she was only a child, and the bigger and scarier it was, the more angry and overwhelmed she was by it. Until one day it got so hard, she decided she wanted to…disappear?’ Natalie looked to Jenna for clues in the tightness of her lips, the eyes that seemed to be looking nowhere. ‘Maybe she thought if she didn’t eat, her mother would notice her then, and help. But your mother didn’t notice, did she Jenna? There’s never been anyone who could really make you feel better.’
Malik frowned. ‘What is this you are talking about?’
‘Imagine, Malik, that your father was a hero, that he’d saved his friend and didn’t die. How would that have changed your life? You loved him…but you also hated him for letting you down, for dying. You’ve never felt quite good enough, that you had something to prove. Jenna loved and hated her parents too, and she’s never resolved it because the only way to manage the conflicts and the secrets was to un-know them. What kept her together was the certainty she was loved—but she’s never allowed herself to scrutinise that. Her trauma was far worse than yours, Malik.’
Denial—a powerful mechanism that had protected Jenna all these years. And it was about to crumble. Jenna’s psyche scar had never quite kept the lid on—symptoms bubbling up at critical times; eating disorders, drugs, alcohol; the need for drama to recreate that specialness again and again. But until now the core of Jenna, the vulnerable child, had been kept safe from what she hadn’t been able to deal with then. The child who wanted love, still, as an adult, needed to believe she was special, even when it put her daughter in harm’s way.
Could Jenna face it now? For Chelsea?
Natalie started to sing softly. About teddy bears getting together for a surprise picnic, about having to wear a disguise, about having a wonderful time.
The colour was draining out of Jenna’s cheeks. Her eyes were glassy.
Natalie remembered what Chelsea had sung, the words she had got wrong…except she hadn’t. She had sung the words she had been taught by her grandfather. ‘If my girl’s been good today…’
‘No…’ the voice that came from Jenna was childlike but with pain woven i
nto the sound as if it was woven into the very fabric of her being. ‘You can’t know that song, it’s our song.’ Her eyes suddenly focused. ‘Ours.’
‘No, Jenna. He sang it to Chelsea too.’
Jenna seemed to shrink, as if the couch was swallowing her up. She started to curl up, shaking her head. ‘No, no,’ she whispered. ‘He wouldn’t. It was just me, only me…’
Malik stood up. ‘What is this about?
‘It was Chelsea’s grandfather, Malik. He first abused Jenna as a child—and more recently, Chelsea.’
Malik was shaking his head. ‘This is…monstrous.’ He looked at Natalie as if he couldn’t quite make sense of what she had said. ‘This changes nothing. It still shows she is not fit to look after our children. Where is she, Jenna?’
‘She isn’t here and you need to go.’ Natalie spoke with as much authority as she could manage. And for a moment it looked like she’d succeed. Malik turned to leave.
‘No. Wait.’ Jenna’s voice was so soft they almost didn’t hear her. ‘Malik? Where is Chris?’
Malik stopped and turned around. Looked at his ex-wife. ‘Right now? Where you will never, ever get him, you bitch. On a plane home.’
Jenna looked frozen, as if she couldn’t quite comprehend what she was hearing. That if she refused to hear it, maybe it wouldn’t be true.
Malik waved the gun at her. Natalie stood up and faced Malik.
‘You aren’t going to shoot either of us Malik,’ Natalie said as she took out her phone and started to hit triple zero.
She was right about the gun—it was one of the replicas from Blake’s shipment. But that didn’t stop Malik launching himself at Natalie, barrelling into her, and sending her sprawling, her abdomen taking the full force of his weight as she twisted and fell onto the arm of the couch.