Nightmares of Caitlin Lockyer (Nightmares Trilogy)

by Carlton, Demelza

  He stretched his legs out in front of him, his arms above and behind his head. He looked at the ceiling, sounding thoughtful. "He owned a holiday house not far from where he died. When his wife heard what had happened to him, she was very distraught. She thought he'd gone for a walk along the beach." He sighed. "She was little and pretty, with short, dark hair. Her name was Laura."

  I snorted. "Some walk. I wonder if she knew what he was really doing."

  "Who knows?" He smiled at me and stood up, looking at his watch. "And now, I have to go. Thank you for your assistance."

  He strode out of the room, giving a brief nod to the guard outside before continuing down the corridor to the lifts.

  I shook my head. The dead bastard had a wife and her name was Laura. Who would have thought?

  14

  Not again.

  Too heavy. Couldn't breathe.

  Hurt me.

  Couldn't scream.

  Hurt me again.

  Gasping, sobbing. No air.

  Crushing weight lifted.

  A breath. Another.

  Why a reprieve?

  Touching me.

  NO. A scream. Mine.

  Hurt me more.

  15

  "Fuck me, but you took your precious time helping her, didn't you? Could you have let them fuck her up any more without killing her?"

  I rubbed my eyes wearily. I hadn't grown a conscience that liked to swear and shout at me. The angry voice could only belong to my boss. Actually, he was my boss's boss. I'd only met him once before and I couldn't remember his name, but I did remember that arguing with him was a bad idea. If I didn't answer, he'd get to the point eventually.

  "The boys in Canberra are breathing down our necks on this one, because of the high media profile. We've organised round-the-clock guards for her, and no one even gets her room number unless they have ID and they're on her list of friends and family. We need her and we need her to stay safe. If you want to catch the guys who did this to her, we need to know everything she can remember," he told me, keeping his voice low. "Names, descriptions and what they did to her, with any dates and times she can remember."

  "When she wakes up, I'll ask her," I said.

  "Fuck, Nathan, the police will be asking, too, and if you want to get to them before the local police do, you need to know everything before they do. You've got to do better than just fucking wait. You need to be her fucking best mate."

  I sighed. "So, that means I have to stay with her? The hospital's going to discharge me today. How do you expect me to convince her she needs some random stranger around all the time without her suspecting, when she wakes up?"

  He smiled. "I'll take care of the hospital and arrange to have you stay for as long as necessary. The local police are already cooperating with you, right?" He paused and I nodded. "As for the girl – make yourself useful. Be your usual charming self and give her a hand when she needs one. Her hands look like they'll be out of action a while. Your charming personality worked on that receptionist – what was her name, Christie?"

  Shit, Christie. Christie the receptionist had turned out to be religious, waiting for marriage and her true love before she'd let anyone in her pants. Even down on her knees she'd been a disappointment. After she'd spilled all she knew and everything she wouldn't swallow, I hadn't seen her again. I'd been glad to give her up. I cleared my throat.

  "Christie the receptionist was nowhere near as... traumatised as Caitlin. That's not a fair comparison." Oh hell, I thought, I almost called Caitlin damaged. And she was – covered in blood and bruises and beaten and broken and... "This one's not going to be won over by a bit of charm and a smile."

  "This one's a shitload better looking than that receptionist, or so I've heard. A bit of an incentive, maybe?" He lowered his voice. "Look, the police are going on about how she was raped by more than one man. You're going to have to be honest with me on this one. You didn't..."

  I waited, but he didn't tell me what he didn't want me to do. "I didn't sleep with her. Is that what you mean? She wasn't offering and I'm not interested if she isn't willing." I winked. "It's not as much fun if she doesn't enjoy herself."

  "Or at least pretending she is," he replied, distracted.

  I forced a laugh. "Not with me. No need, mate." I winked again, but my cheer felt hollow. There was no need when this was one girl I'd never sleep with. Oh God, what I'd give for a decent night's sleep without her...

  He sighed, looking wistful. "Yeah, that's why you're the one who's pumping her for information. Don't let the police find out if you do decide to fuck her." He got up to leave. "Let me know what you find out. And don't let anyone fucking kill her."

  16

  Don't touch me.

  Don't touch her.

  Don't...

  Can't stop. Must...

  Shouting. Shots.

  Hurts.

  No.

  Can't stop. Must...

  Hurts.

  Can't get up.

  Must...

  Red light. Blood.

  Scared. Slipping.

  Stars.

  Dark...

  17

  Caitlin slept peacefully, for the moment. As the bright sunlight streamed through the window into her hospital room, I was incapable of sleep.

  I felt I owed her some explanation and it was easier to tell her when she was asleep. I hesitated, not knowing how much to tell or how little. Maybe if I spoke my piece now I could resist telling her when she was awake and asking for answers. Or maybe I'd never have to tell her.

  "She'd gone shopping and we didn't even know she was missing until hours afterwards," I blurted out before I realised what I was doing. "It was weeks and she wouldn't answer her phone, no one had seen her.

  "Then there were the envelopes. No return address, just printed labels on the outside and inside... zip-locked freezer bags with bloodied cloth and skin, cut with a jagged knife. Sometimes every day, or more than one every few days. I wouldn't let Chris check the mail – I put a lock on the letterbox so she couldn't..." My voice died as I remembered again what I could never forget.

  "It must have been over a month before her body turned up, dumped at the base of some sand dunes. Near where you were." I swallowed convulsively, but continued. "For more than a month, they'd just hurt her, until they killed her." A memory I didn't want. One that plagued my dreams.

  I looked at Caitlin, wondering who her envelopes had been sent to. Nothing had been found at her house and she still lived at home with her father. Had they even sent them? Or were the cuts on her body something someone did just for the hell of it? I tried not to think about it. My thoughts went back to Alanna, as they always did.

  I sat in the chair next to her bed, my closed eyes seeing only pictures of the past. "Alanna was my sister, my twin, but we were so different. She was always so cheerful, so determined to succeed and make a difference. She'd help someone when no one else would bother. The next thing you know, everyone would be helping her. She stopped to help a woman push her broken-down car off a busy road outside Uni once. The two of them could barely budge it, then a Council truck pulled over and the whole road crew helped her get the car onto the kerb. I was stuck on the other side of the road and six lanes of traffic, so I saw the whole thing. I wouldn't have believed it if it was anyone else, but Alanna... it's just who she was.

  "We were at a party once, and everyone was drinking. A normal Uni party after the end of exams. A girl she didn't know was so drunk she passed out and hit her head as she fell. A room full of drunken med students and no one seemed to know what to do. Alanna just stepped in and took charge. She knelt on the floor next to the girl. She sent one person for ice, another to call an ambulance, someone else to find the friend the girl had arrived with. By the time the ambulance arrived, she had the girl's name, contact details of her next of kin and everything. There was nothing for the ambulance officers to do but get the girl to hospital.

  "Alanna was such a fighter, she would never hav
e given in to them. Never stopped fighting, never let them win. So they broke her and they killed her. How could anyone do that to her?

  "I wanted to hunt them down and hurt them for what they did to her. But the police didn't arrest anyone and they could still do it again, to someone else!" They'd do it to Chris next. My parents would never give in. I gritted my teeth, trying to force the thought out of my brain. "Please wake up. I need to know how to find them before they can get to Chris. She's the same age as you and I can't let it happen again. Not after..."

  I looked at Caitlin, serene in sleep. It was hard not to see the corpse I'd thought she was.

  I didn't get there in time. I'd let it happen to her.

  I looked away, at a mercifully blank wall.

  "I'm sorry, Caitlin. I never wanted to see you hurt. Not like this. I should have helped you sooner."

  Once again, I lay back and closed my eyes. I couldn't look at her any more, but the image of her on the beach seemed burned into my retinas, eyes open or closed.

  Shit. Sleep felt like a dream I barely remembered, while this was a nightmare I couldn't wake up from.

  18

  Took my clothes.

  Tried to fight.

  Threatened me.

  Scared. Froze.

  Cried.

  Couldn't fight.

  So cold.

  Shivering and cold in the dark.

  Two of them.

  One laughing, one clinical.

  Wanted someone to help, rescue me.

  Superman?

  No one else, only me.

  Tears. Cold...

  19

  I paid little attention to the nurse in the room until she started to pull the curtains closed around Caitlin's bed, blocking my view of both of them.

  "No," I said suddenly, hoisting myself off my bed and pushing the curtains open again.

  The nurse glared at me, anonymous to me now that her name badge was obscured by the curtain she held clenched in her hand. "I'm changing her dressings. Even if she has to share a room with you, she's entitled to some privacy."

  She yanked the curtain shut again and I heard the rustle of latex and cardboard as she pulled out a pair of gloves. "Caitlin did her first practical placement for medical school in this ward and we all know her. She won't want some sleazy bastard staring at her as she sleeps." Her voice was low but loud enough for me to hear it.

  I stepped into the area by Caitlin's bed, inside the curtains. "You know the last thing she said, before she passed out in the Emergency Department? She reminded me that I'd promised not to let anyone hurt her again." I stared back at the nurse. "Until she wakes up and tells me otherwise, I'm just keeping my promise. I'm not letting her out of my sight while you're here."

  She raised her eyebrows and let out a snort of breath, but she didn't say another word to me. Pointedly ignoring me, the nurse snapped on her gloves and started opening the first of the large stack of dressing packs on Caitlin's bedside table. The first dressing she pulled off Caitlin's wrist revealed an open, ulcerated wound that looked painful.

  That's where they tied her up. There was rope gouging into her skin, caked with her blood.

  The nurse swabbed it with disinfectant. For a moment, the raw wound was hidden again as the disinfectant fumes stung my eyes and they started to water.

  Caitlin tossed restlessly as soon as the nurse's hands touched her, mumbling something I couldn't hear. My eyes still burning, I had to move to her bedside to discern the words. "Please... you promised..." she whimpered.

  At that, I dropped into the chair by her bed. I couldn't remember the last time I was this close to tears – primary school, perhaps. The disinfectant fumes didn't help. I tried to speak, but no sound came out. I cleared my throat and tried again. "It's okay, Caitlin. You've been hurt." My voice shook, but I made myself continue. "We're trying to help you get better."

  The nurse snorted again, louder this time. "You're in hospital as a patient now and all of us on the clinical team here are doing our best to help you get better. Your roommate is sleazy and, if I were you, I'd wake up fast so you can ask for a room transfer."

  I'd like you to wake up, too, I thought but didn't say.

  I tried to focus on the nurse's hands, not the wounds she was treating. No matter what the nurse thought, I didn't want to stare at Caitlin's bare skin as she slept. Conscious and consenting was one thing, but she was neither, and she wouldn't be until she recovered, if ever. It took a real fucked-up bloke to look at her in her current state and feel anything but pity, sympathy and the fist-clenching desire to cause some righteous pain. Which I couldn't do a fucking thing about until she woke up and told me how to find them.

  The grumpy nurse gently rolled Caitlin on her side so she could reach some the dressings on her back. The first one she pulled off revealed more nasty-looking ulcers and a patch of scraped skin. She reached for the eye-watering disinfectant wipes again as I winced and wanted to look away.

  I wished that Caitlin was wearing more than her hospital-issue nightdress. Normally, that meant she'd be showing a whole lot of skin, but there were so many dressings on her that she seemed swathed in white, like a badly beaten angel. She may as well have been an angel fallen to Earth, she had so little with her. The police had taken all her clothes, so the hospital gown was all she had. I felt guilty for wearing the clean t-shirt my sister had brought.

  It seemed an eternity before the nurse was finished, but I didn't take my eyes away from her until she left, without saying another word.

  Released from my vigil, I squeezed my eyes shut. My head in my hands, I tried to knead the livid images out of my forehead with my fingers. Under every dressing on Caitlin's body were wounds that screamed of repeated abuse, over and over again during the weeks they had her.

  Not for the first time I wondered how anyone could force themselves to look at that every day, job notwithstanding. I didn't know how I could stand to watch a nurse bare her every cut, bruise and break again tomorrow, or force myself to sit through this every day until she woke up.

  How did she manage to survive, driving herself to keep going as those sick bastards inflicted countless wounds on her body and mind, time and time again?

  Fuck. I didn't know. Wake up, Caitlin, so you can tell me the answers. Fucked if I knew.

  20

  The door was open.

  Someone calling me a little bitch.

  Attacked him.

  Hit me.

  Hit the floor.

  Blood, pain.

  Pushing me down, on top of me.

  Bound my hands.

  Broke my fingers.

  Screaming. Pain.

  Couldn't see for tears.

  He had a knife.

  Cut my clothes off.

  Tried to kick him.

  Couldn't see, too dark.

  He caught my legs.

  Pushed them down, apart.

  Unzipped.

  Oh God please no

  21

  Any time Caitlin was quiet, I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. But it was a hospital and there were always doctors and nurses coming to check on her. Once there was a med student, too.

  I tried to ignore them and kept my eyes closed, but I couldn't help listening.

  Maybe it was the sound of her voice – cute and young, but serious, too, like she really cared about her patient. "She's probably pregnant. With rape a possibility it's best to know as early as possible," she argued.

  My heart contracted, as if I were crushing it in my own clenched fist. Hadn't Caitlin been through enough? She needed to recover from her ordeal and one day learn to forget. She didn't deserve a lifelong reminder, a child belonging to one of the bastards who'd hurt her. She'd have scars enough as it was.

  "No, she isn't. We checked twice. Both were negative." The other voice was calmer but sad.

  I breathed a sigh of relief.

  "Like I said, it could have been a mistake or too early to tell."

  The sad voice sig
hed heavily. He sounded Irish. "Or she was very early into the pregnancy and she miscarried. But that would have been before she was admitted..."

  There was blood everywhere. Her eyes were open, staring at the stars in the sky. I'd thought she was dead.

  "Do we know for certain she was raped?"

  Another sigh. "If she was awake, I could ask her. But she's a seventeen-year-old girl who's been through hell and a lot of pain, given how long she was missing and the state she's in now. I'd say it's pretty much a certainty. I've left a note in her file and I'm leaving it at that. There's no need to ask her or even mention it. She's definitely not pregnant."

  "I'd ask, Dr Lannon, just to be thorough. What if..."

  "Did you see her when she came in?" he demanded.

  Blood and bruises everywhere. So cold. Twisted, broken fingers. Haunted eyes. Screaming...

  "Have you been here when she has nightmares?" he pressed.

  Endless screaming, wanting to run...

  "No, I've just read her file because she was on my patient list today." Her voice sounded subdued.

  I'd never seen such a long list of injuries. Line after line of damage.

  "This girl was beaten and raped repeatedly for weeks then left on a beach to die. It's been all over the news. Would you want to be the one to remind her and make her relive all the gory details?"

  No, but I didn't have any choice. I had to ask her. I needed to know.

  A pregnant pause. A quiet, "No, Dr Lannon."

  "Besides, she'll tell us everything we need to know when she wakes up. She's a med student," said Dr Lannon with satisfaction.

  Even the fucking doctor knew more about her than I did.

  "Do you know her?"

  The doctor laughed. "She stole my parking spot on her first day on prac here."

  A sharp intake of breath. "What did you do?"

  "I parked somewhere else and told her what happens when you steal a doctor's parking space." Dr Lannon sounded amused.