Malicious Intent (30 page)

‘May I ask why Georgia said Briony used to be her mother?’

Julie’s face couldn’t disguise the hurt. ‘She was, until she walked out on us. Georgia called us both Mum.’

‘How long ago did she leave?’

‘A few weeks ago. We were at a play gym in the local shopping center. Briony said she wanted something from the car.

After about half an hour, she sent me a text message saying she had some thinking to do and would be gone for a few days. I suppose we should be grateful she left us the car.’

‘You didn’t have any warning that she wanted to leave?’

‘None.’ She combed Georgia’s hair with her fingers. ‘You think you know someone.’

Anya had experienced the same sense of desertion. ‘May I ask about the biological father? Was he involved?’

‘No. A male friend donated his sperm but didn’t want to have anything to do with parenting. He moved to Singapore a year ago.’

Anya wanted to know more, without giving anything away about the other cases. ‘The situation in which Briony was found isn’t unique. I’m concerned she may not have left of her own free will.’

‘Well, the letter she sent said it all. She’d found herself and realized she’d sinned by being with another woman. She wanted to redeem herself and purge all evil from her life. That meant leaving Georgia and me.’ She twisted the toddler’s hair into a plait as Georgia entertained herself with the book. ‘How can this child be the work of the devil? It was Briony’s idea to have a commitment ceremony and conceive. We shared the parenting and I thought things were great between us.’

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‘What if she didn’t leave you voluntarily? What if she was abducted?’

‘Is that what she claims?’ Julie shook her head. ‘Always could embellish a story, the original drama queen. Look. The letter was in her handwriting. In the end, it’s all the same. What am I supposed to say to our daughter when she asks? I didn’t plan on being a single parent, and financially everything’s a mess. I just wish she’d thought of someone else other than herself when she left.’

Anya sympathized with the woman, so hurt at being abandoned by the person she thought was her life partner.

‘Would you like to speak to her, for Georgia’s sake?’ Anya added, ‘She’s very ill. It might help you to get some answers.’

‘No. I don’t want anything to do with her. Briony’s made her choice. My lawyer will take it from here.’

Julie Everingham was back in control, her strength and pride admirable. She collected some loose raisins from the floor and wiped Georgia’s hands and mouth with a wet towel from her bag.

‘We’d better see that nurse and fill in the paperwork. Then we can get you home for a bath,’ she said, and grabbing the book, toy and Georgia’s hand, she left the room.

The little girl turned and blew Anya a kiss. The tiny child would one day need to know why a parent had rejected her.

For Georgia’s sake, Anya hoped she could find the answers.

39

Returning to her office, Anya couldn’t help wondering why a woman would leave her child and partner after finding religion. Briony obviously thought of ‘him’ as some kind of sav-ior. How could anyone reject little Georgia, such an innocent and loving child, and accuse her of being the devil’s work? It went against the most basic maternal instinct. She wondered who the leader was, and how he converted the women, encouraging them to leave behind everyone they loved. Whoever he was, he must have incredible charisma. He commanded loyalty, even though Briony had almost died in his care.

What was Briony doing in the mountains? Is that where the group lived, the place it took new recruits? There wasn’t a cult mentioned out west of Sydney, although the Blue Mountains had its share of alternative lifestylers. If she tried to escape, she might have fallen accidentally. So why was she saying he saved her life?

Nothing about Briony Lovitt made sense. The message and letter she had sent let Julie know she had chosen to leave. But if she’d been taken, anyone could have sent the message using her mobile phone. Kate Farrer might agree to find out where the letter was sent from, which might give a clue as to where Briony stayed after she’d disappeared.

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Someone or a group was out there collecting women and managing to get them killed. If Debbie Finch had been abducted, maybe she hadn’t shot her father by choice, and was forced to have oral sex with the man in the house. Anya thought of the women she’d examined who’d been subject to the same act during a sexual assault.

By the time Anya had put her bag down in her office, Elaine had printed out information on two local cults, along with a note about having to leave early. No messages from Kate yet.

Disappointed, Anya sat down to read. One group on the Central Coast had recently been raided for sexually abusing young girls in its compound. A self-proclaimed Messiah led the other cult and wanted to ascend to heaven with his followers when the Apocalypse came.

The computer on the desk made a ringing sound, indicat-ing new e-mail. Vaughan’s message, thanking her for a wonderful day at the Show, took her by surprise. He seemed more effusive than in person. She hit the reply button and typed a response, concentrating on the articles he had given her. She finished with a question.

‘Are you aware of a phenomenon in which a woman has been abducted by a cult and then adopted the cult’s teachings, even refusing to contact her family, given the opportunity? I’m particularly interested in instances in which cult members had initially been abducted.’ She hit the send button.

Immediately, an e-mail appeared in her inbox. Vaughan couldn’t have answered that quickly. She clicked on the message, which was titled ‘lung fibers,’ the subject header she’d used when posting questions about the fibers on the forensic list groups. Someone must have recognized the fiber!

The author introduced himself as Dr. Felix Rosenbaum, a retired respiratory physician living in Bowral, two hours from Sydney. He explained that he had been in China for the last month and had only just checked his mail.

Anya could hardly believe what she read. The physician recalled a fiber similar to the one she scanned, in a case he had 242

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treated over forty years ago. It involved a sound engineer with lung cancer, if his memory served him correctly.

Clearly, Felix Rosenbaum was mentally and physically active if he traveled around China. He had the files from the case at his property. If she wanted to see them, they could arrange a meeting. He would prefer to meet in person if possible, because poor hearing made phone conversations difficult for him.

Anya checked her diary and sent a reply suggesting they meet the day after tomorrow in Bowral. The sooner, the better, she thought.

Her inbox beeped again and she realized Vaughan Hunter had been online. His message had her baffled. All it said was

‘Stockholm syndrome.’ She vaguely remembered the name from a psychology lecture from years ago, which described people falling in love with their captors during sieges. Apart from that, her mind was blank on the topic. Typing the name of the syndrome into the search engine produced a list of hundreds of sites.

Damn! Anya tapped her fingers on the desk in frustration.

She was no longer in the mood to sit and digest psychobabble.

She needed to clear her mind and vent some frustration.

Upstairs at the drums, she readjusted the stool and counted in time. Within minutes she felt her shoulders relax and her legs and arms work in rhythm as she played along to ‘Unchain My Heart.’ For once, she didn’t worry about getting the song perfect. No stopping and starting again because of mistakes.

Improvising, she played louder and longer than usual. Bugger Mrs. Bugalugs next door. She smiled at the thought.

Half an hour and ten songs later, perspiration covered her forehead and chest. This was so much more relaxing than the gym. Putting down the sticks, she resolved to face the Internet again. She headed downstairs to the office computer. This time she typed the term ‘brainwashing with Stockholm syndrome.’

She clicked on an article about brainwashing victims into submission. It talked about prisoners of war, and referred to a KATHRYN FOX

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young British woman who had been kidnapped for a ransom and was found out to have joined the terrorist group that held her hostage. The young woman had been imprisoned for bombing a police car in Northern Ireland, but her lawyer argued she’d been brainwashed during her time in captivity.

While in prison, she had tried to smuggle love letters to the man who orchestrated her kidnapping.

Anya immediately focused on the woman’s story. She searched for information on ‘Wendy Privet’ and found a number of articles in psychiatric journals dedicated to the case.

One described a syndrome in which abducted people were grateful to their kidnappers for not killing them. Through isolation, victims became dependent on their captors, and some developed an affinity for them, to the point of wanting to testify or raise money to defend their captors after being released.

The syndrome was named after a 1973 siege in a bank in Stockholm, Sweden. Four bank staff held captive in a bank vault for six days developed empathy with their machine-gun toting captor. They actually feared the police, whom they saw as dangerous. Without intervention they could survive, but if the police provoked their captor, violence was the only likely outcome. It was assumed that they sided with the person holding them hostage out of fear and, in part, denial. Anya printed out the information and decided to show Kate Farrer in person.

40

Inside Kate’s flat the following evening, Anya tried not to step on papers and CD cases littering the floor. Kate lifted a plate with a half-eaten taco on it and cleared a space for her friend on the couch.

‘Aren’t Virgos supposed to be obsessively tidy?’ Anya asked.

‘Do you believe in the tooth fairy, too? I haven’t spent much time here lately,’ Kate said, wandering into the kitchen-ette. ‘Can I get you a drink? Light beer?’

‘Great, thanks.’

Kate returned with two small bottles and unscrewed the lids, tossing them into the bin across the room.

‘How was the Show last weekend?’ she asked, handing one over and sitting cross-legged on the floor.

‘We had fun. Vaughan Hunter’s good company and was great with Ben.’

‘Never trust anyone with a slimy handshake. If you ask me, he’s a bit too smooth.’

Anya took a sip and used the bottle to catch a dribble from her chin.

Kate changed the subject. ‘Sorry I didn’t get back to you.

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cases. I don’t think I can do much more about the Matthews or Deab cases.’

‘We’ve located another woman who died with the same type of lung fibers. A doctor who simply disappeared and was found a while later overdosed in a hotel room. Not only did she have the identical lung fibers, and shaved pubic hair, but turns out she had genital herpes, drug-resistant, just like Fatima Deab’s.’

Kate took a drink and raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m listening.’

‘There’s more. A woman survived a fall from up near Gov-etts Leap. Number three case of drug-resistant herpes, which is, again, pretty uncommon. Turns out she left her child and female partner. Just disappeared one day, but sent a text message followed by a letter saying she’d started a new life. A few weeks later she is found, body shattered from a fall she shouldn’t have survived.’

‘I agree there are definite similarities.’ Kate thought for a moment. ‘I need more. Can the one who survived be interviewed?’

Anya knew this would cause a problem. ‘She refused to speak up until today. Wouldn’t even give her name in hospital.

All she said to me was that he, whoever “he” is, tried to save her.’

‘Did he try to catch her when she fell?’

‘I don’t think so. She didn’t have any scratches or bruises on her hands that looked like someone had grabbed her.’

‘What was she doing on the cliff in the first place?’

‘I don’t know.’ Anya took a large sip and wiped her mouth.

‘But the lab is testing the herpes virus she had which should determine if it’s the exact same strain as Fatima’s and the doctor’s infections.’

‘Hang on. Are you saying two other women had sexual contact with the Deab girl? This is getting sicker.’

‘No. They might have had sex with the same man as one, or all of the others. It’s possible the virus strain is being passed around a group of people.’

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‘That would ring some alarm bells. Same guy, two dead, the other nearly dead. If you can tie her to Clare Matthews, or Debbie Finch, we’d have more to go on to reopen the investigations into the deaths.’

Anya ran her finger over the condensation on the bottle.

‘I’ve been reading about cults.’

Kate rolled her eyes. ‘Now you’re sounding crazy.’

‘Hear me out. If the women joined a cult, by their own volition or by force, that could explain at least why the surviving woman seems to idolize some bloke she thinks wanted to save her. Often cult leaders sleep with the women followers, hoping to inseminate them with their genes, and as a way of confirming the disciple’s place in the group. It’s also somewhere the women could live for weeks at a time, and may be the place they all inhaled the fibers. A cult is a definite possibility.’

‘I can’t take a bloody theory about cults to my commanding officer. We’ve got to have something more tangible. Some kind of physical evidence to link her to the other women. How about I start with the one who came off the cliff?’ Kate reached across and grabbed a notebook and pen from beside the phone.

‘What’s her name and where is she?’

Anya hesitated. ‘I can’t tell you that.’

‘Don’t shit me. What’s her name?’

‘I’m serious, Kate. I can’t breach confidentiality. She has to be guaranteed anonymity.’

The detective stood up. ‘You doctors are full of bloody principles when it suits you. You have no problems naming a child abuser, or telling the Roads and Traffic Authority someone isn’t fit to drive. So why the crap about confidentiality now?’