‘You don’t want to do that,’ Maddi said.
‘No, I don’t. It’s close to home and it’s the only money I get to myself,’ Alex said. ‘Anyway, I’ll just stay away from him. Did you notice how much he stinks? Like a rotting arsehole.’
Maddi laughed. ‘Fartin’ Martin.’
‘How come you didn’t tell Fartin’ Martin about the police finding the balaclava?’ Maddi said at the corner.
Alex shrugged. ‘I didn’t think of it. Besides, it’s none of his business.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
One of Laura’s favourite shopping experiences was for coffee pods where she could stay in the moment amid aromas and tastes. But this morning thoughts of Tara and Seth had claimed her full attention. She’d been certain that despite Tara’s chilled departure on Sunday she would have heard from her by now. Laura did not expect a back down – Tara never backed down – but she would have thought a declaration that went some way toward achieving a compromise would have been appropriate. Laura knew she was the parent, the grown-up, and that the next contact should be at her initiative. But Tara constantly pled for her to stop mothering, to treat her like an adult. It’s been two days. I’ll ring her tonight after work, Laura thought, stepping up to the counter.
Clutching a supply of coffee-pods, and with the taste of a rich new blend still on her palate, Laura threaded her way through the Tuesday morning throng of city shoppers towards the office, allowing her mind to momentarily return to her hospital visit early this morning and her subsequent discussion with Bryce Cowlett, his blue eyes peering at her above half-moon glasses as he gave her the news. Not knowing how she should react, or even worse, how she should feel, the entire experience had been no less suffocating then than it was now as she relived it.
‘Hey, Laura.’
She glanced back to see Noah weaving his way through foot traffic to reach her, a takeaway coffee clasped in his hand.
‘G’day,’ he said, grinning, his pace seamlessly falling into step with hers. ‘I thought you’d want to know I visited Isaac Harrison yesterday. The way he lied about his alibi has been playing on my mind. And alarm bells rang when you mentioned his bouts of aggression towards Alex. So yesterday I brought him in for a chat.’
‘That’s very interesting. What happened?’
‘He finally confessed that he’s been having an affair with a married woman, who has a toddler and a husband who travels a lot. Seth was with her the night Alex was attacked. He said he lied about his alibi to protect her.’
‘That doesn’t explain why he’s been so aggressive towards Alex,’ Laura said.
‘Well, it does really. Although the woman has corroborated Seth’s account of events, she told me through tears how she loves him and how torn she feels at having to choose between him and her husband.’ He turned to Laura and widened his eyes. ‘She chose her husband. Anyway, that means we can now clear Isaac of any suspicion.’
‘That’s good news, I guess . . . although Alex was going to ask her boss to change the shift roster so she doesn’t have to work with Isaac any longer,’ Laura said, as they turned the corner, the station’s facade now clearly visible in the near distance. ‘I wonder if she got round to it yet . . . I’ll call her today.’
‘Are you OK?’ Noah asked, studying Laura’s face. ‘You seem subdued this morning.’
‘I’m fine,’ she said.
Noah stopped walking and took Laura gently by the arm, pulled her to the side, out of the path of fellow pedestrians.
‘Is it bad news about Simon?’ he said, facing her.
‘No, its good news about Simon actually,’ she said, wishing she could feel a modicum of joy. ‘His doctor told me this morning that there have been signs of slightly increased brain activity. That means he’s starting to emerge from his coma.’
Noah nodded, his eyes still intently studying her face.
‘And,’ she added, sighing, ‘I’ve just discovered Simon was one of the hacked users of the Grayson’s website.’
Noah’s tone immediately slid into detective mode. ‘How do you know?’
‘I tracked it on the web and trawled through our bank statements. There’s absolutely no doubt. He connected with . . . um, other people, at least twice a week – before he left home and after he returned.’ She threw her head back to stifle her tears. On the job, can’t cry, she repeated like a mantra in her mind. ‘The last time was the day of his accident,’ she said, clearing her throat.
Noah stared down at the pavement and took a deep breath. ‘Laura, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.’
She smiled and laid her hand on his arm. ‘You could say, “Here, have my coffee to cheer you up”,’ she joked.
As they made their way back to their respective workstations, Noah said, ‘Oh, another thing – yesterday I formally interviewed Roger Grenfell. His story was consistent. He may not be our man after all, but DNA will tell.’
Cynthia Holt’s phone call came as Laura was about to clear her emails.
‘I am so relieved to reach you.’ She took a single deep breath. ‘Alex had another nightmare last night – or early this morning really. It was awful – she’s been so traumatised by what she saw that I’ve kept her home from school today. I’m actually thinking of calling the doctor but figured I should speak with you first.’
‘What did she see?’ Laura said with deliberate calm.
‘She won’t say. She won’t tell Greg either. She refuses to speak with anyone but you. I know this is an imposition, but could you possibly come and see her this morning, please? I don’t know what else to do.’
‘Do you think she needs to see a doctor first?’ Laura asked, feeing torn, fully aware that if Alex were sedated her ability to talk about what she saw would be seriously jeopardised, even forced back to her subconscious.
‘I’m not sure. Immediately after her nightmare – at about four this morning – she was shaking and sort of howling and growling. It was hideous. I sat by her side and she slept fitfully until about six this morning. Now she’s refusing to get out of bed and won’t eat or drink a thing, not even water. She has spoken a few words, but nothing of any substance. Once she knew I was calling you at least she stopped shaking. She’s hiding under the bedcovers now, refusing to come out.’
‘Was she coherent when she spoke to you?’ Laura said.
‘Oh yes. Just withdrawn and still obviously frightened.’
‘I’m leaving the office now,’ she told Cynthia, withdrawing her jacket and bag from her locker. ‘I’ll be at your place in twenty minutes, but be sure to ring me if anything changes.’
Cynthia’s pained expression at her front door was at odds with the careless chattering and squawking of Rainbow Lorikeets in the jacarandas.
‘Thanks for coming so quickly,’ she said, before she turned and led the way to Alex’s room. ‘She knows you’re coming,’ she mouthed, standing aside at Alex’s open door to allow Laura to step in.
‘Hi, Alex,’ Laura said at the doorway, taking in the cheery white and aqua decor, posters of boy bands lining the walls. ‘Alex?’ she repeated, knowing from the sudden but slight movement of the shape beneath the white doona, that the teen was aware she’d arrived. Laura slowly sat on the edge of the bed opposite and waited for her to make the next move.
‘Tell Mum to go away,’ Alex eventually murmured from under the covers.
Laura turned to Cynthia, who nodded before moving away in the direction of the kitchen.
When Alex’s face finally emerged it was red and swollen, her blond hair knotted and shambolic, her eyes slightly wild as she refused to look at Laura, preferring instead to stare up at the ceiling.
‘What’s happened, Alex?’ Laura said softly.
‘I had another dream,’ Alex said, still focussed on the ceiling.
Laura straightened. ‘What do you remember?’
‘Everything . . . I remember everything,’ she said, her face contorting be
fore she retreated under the covers again.
Laura leaned forward, her voice calm, impassive, her eagerness palpable. ‘Take your time and start at the beginning,’ she said.
Moments later Alex lowered the covers again, her body straightening to a tiny shape beneath the doona. ‘I saw him walking towards me. It was all sort of blurry and shadowy because of the moon through the trees and across the footpath. I was scared when I saw him but I kept telling myself it would be OK. But then, as he came closer, I knew it wasn’t OK. I knew it was really weird and really scary, but I couldn’t run away. I don’t know why.’ Tears ran down the side of her face as she continued to stare up at the ceiling. ‘I wish I had run away . . . I remember there were hardly any cars on the road. I really wanted a car to come along but there were none. As he got closer I still couldn’t see his face. Then he pulled his balaclava down to cover it anyway. I was so freaked.’ Alex paused, swiping the tears away. ‘But then he stared at me and just walked past.’ She turned her head into the pillow and sobbed.
Laura waited.
‘Then I ran,’ she said between sobs. ‘I ran as fast as I could . . . Then, when I got to the corner and I was slipping all over the place because of the berries on the path, I ran across the road to our house. I thought I was safe then.’ Alex pulled the cover over her head and slowly turned onto her side again, folding into a foetal position under the doona like a giant baby.
Laura moved to Alex’s bed. She sat on the edge, her hand resting on the cover over the girl’s ankle. Again she waited.
‘He grabbed . . . he grabbed me from behind,’ Alex wailed, her words clearly audible despite coming from beneath the bedcovers.
‘Then what happened?’ Laura prompted, her heart pounding as though free-falling in her chest.
Alex whipped the bedcover down to chest height, turned on her side to face Laura, her gaze intense. ‘His face and his body were really close – like touching – I could feel the balaclava rubbing against my face . . . his body pushing up against me. And he was big – like, really big.’ She averted her gaze, seemed to be staring beyond Laura’s shoulder, her pained concentration etched into her face. ‘His voice was like . . . like someone trying to change his normal voice – like deep and rough.’ She fell into silence, her stare persisting over Laura’s shoulder.
‘Alex,’ Laura said. ‘Alex, what happened then?’
She closed her eyes, turned on her back and covered her face with her arm, her sobs heartbreaking. Eventually she sat up against the pillows and pulled at the bedcover, tucked it under her chin, brought her knees up to her chest, strands of blond hair sticking to her face, twisted and streaked with snot and tears. She stopped crying then, pushed the bedcover hard against her mouth as though the words she was about to utter should never be heard. ‘I could smell him,’ she murmured, staring down mindlessly at the mound of her knees under the bedcover, before her face twisted with new horror and her eyes narrowed. ‘He stank . . . even through his balaclava his breath was like . . . vile, like someone who smokes way too much.’ She moved the bedcover away from her mouth. Looked directly at Laura, her eyes wide, her expression suddenly wracked with fear and horror. ‘His big hands, the way he smelled, even though he tried to sound different, I know it was his voice.’ She covered her face with both hands. ‘It was my boss, Mr Martin.’
‘Are you sure?’ Laura said.
‘I am positive.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Laura kept a wary eye on Alex, the aqua blanket wrapped around her as the three of them sat at the kitchen table drinking tea and discussing next steps. The morning sun filtered through the glass doors to throw light patches across the black and white tiles. Bleary-eyed and withdrawn, Alex listened and contributed whenever she was asked. And Laura worried how the teen would cope now her shroud of safety, her amnesia had lifted.
She dialled Noah’s number the moment she returned to her car, raising the window to block out the frenzied screeching and chattering flowing from every jacaranda tree along the street.
‘Are you at the zoo?’ Noah said when he answered.
‘No, I’m outside Alex Holt’s house – it’s nesting season and the Rainbow Lorikeets are going crazy. Listen, Alex has just told me she had a full-on nightmare about the attack. She has told me in vivid detail what happened. She’s even given me the name of the person who she thinks was her attacker.’
‘Go on,’ Noah said with usual calm, although Laura sensed his interest was well and truly piqued. ‘She doesn’t know his full name. She just knows him as Mr Martin. He either owns or manages the local store – he’s her boss.’
‘So what makes her think he’s the one?’ Noah asked.
‘She said she knows now that the guy who did it was not only tall, but he was big as well, with extraordinarily large hands. She said he told her not to scream and his voice seemed deliberately disguised, but it could have been Mr Martin’s. But what triggered things in her mind was his smell. She said Mr Martin has foul smoker’s breath and her attacker had the same. I’ve not seen her so sure about anything before. I think this Mr Martin is the man we’ve been looking for.’
‘Leave it to me,’ Noah said.
‘Well, aren’t you excited?’ Laura said, before he terminated their call.
‘No. Not till the fat lady sings,’ he told her before the line went dead.
Laura pressed the off button. She could tell from his voice that Noah was definitely excited.
Planning what she would say in her next call, she gazed through the front window to the entrance into Connor Lane, then to her right at the gravel driveway of Alex’s house, the spot where her attacker had grabbed her that night. She imagined how Alex must have felt, her terror probably abating when she was about to enter the safety of home. Then the hideous jolt when her attacker had suddenly appeared again to grab her from behind, the feel of him against her body, the sound of his voice in her ear, his smell – and the utter helplessness cast on her by his sheer size and strength. She shook her head as though to clear all thought. Dialled his number.
‘This is Declan O’Leary,’ he answered in his usual Irish brogue.
‘It’s Laura Nesci, Declan. How are you?’
‘Well, well, well, Laura. It’s so good to be hearing your gorgeous voice. You wouldn’t be ringin’ about another urgent referral now, would ya?’ he said, a smile clearly evident in his tone.
‘Of course, Declan. I’m shamelessly asking you for yet another favour,’ Laura said, picturing Declan in his signature pinstriped three-piece suit and silk tie, his thick salt and pepper hair curling at his collar. Despite being several years Laura’s junior, she and Declan had always flirted outrageously with each other – but only in public.
‘Ah, no worries. So what’s happening? Are you calling again on behalf of another young victim of crime?’ he asked, suddenly serious.
‘Her name is Alex Holt. She was attacked in a lane near her home a few weeks ago.’ Laura went on to tell Declan the details of Alex’s attack, the various fugue states and two nightmares she had endured since. ‘Alex is a resilient young woman, but reliving the drama this morning may have taken its toll. I’d feel less concerned if you met with her,’ she concluded.
‘What does young Alex think about seeing me?’ Declan said.
‘She and her mother are in full agreement. In fact it was her mother who suggested it,’ Laura said.
‘And is there a father?’
‘A stepfather, Greg Shepherd. Alex’s mother, Cynthia Holt, said he’s not been involved in discussions about therapy, but she sees no reason why he would object.’
‘OK. That’s that then. I’ll wait for your referral. Can you get Alex or her mother to ring me?’ he said.
‘Well, now you mention it, I have actually taken the liberty of giving them your number already. I knew you’d say “yes”. You should hear from them soon.’
‘You’re a wicked woman, Laura, that’s for sure, bu
t I love ya,’ he said.
Driving through lunchtime traffic, Laura reflected on Alex’s deterioration despite her valiant attempts at dealing with her attack, how Greg’s avid frustration had impacted on her and her mother, and realised how much she had worried for her young client. But much of her worry seemed to have lifted now the culprit had been snared and Declan was involved. And of course, whenever work pressures lightened, personal pressures came barrelling through like elbow-shovers at a half-year sale. Most pressing of all was her still unresolved argument with Tara. She thought about it for all of ten seconds before pulling over to the side of the road and dialling Tara’s number.
‘I’m sorry,’ the receptionist told her, .’but Ms Nesci is in court all day today. I won’t be seeing her until after four. Can I take a message?’
Half aggrieved because she wanted the matter settled, and half relieved because she was dreading the conversation, Laura left a message for Tara to return her call.
Clasping a take-away salad, Laura waited for the elevator, anxious to be back at her desk.
The doors slid open to reveal Kevin brushing his hair with his fingers, and Mel, who smiled fleetingly when she spotted Laura.
‘Oh well, she’ll be out of a job very soon,’ Kevin said before straightening, suddenly aware that Laura was facing them. ‘Oh, Laura,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘We’re onto the Smithson case. See you later.’
They both stepped from the lift, Kevin with eyes down and Mel flashing a second nervous smile at Laura as she passed.
‘You bastard, Kevin,’ Laura said under her breath, stabbing at the control panel. The doors slid closed. He was clearly talking about her, despite his grandstanding about being civil. And she knew now he had been undermining her to her team. Suddenly she caught an image in the mirror of a pale, tense-lipped, saggy-eyed, disgruntled older woman. She studied her reflection. Straightened and lifted her chin. ‘I do not care an iota. I can see what you are up to, Kevin. And you can get fucked,’ she muttered stepping from the lift.
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