Medea's Curse (24 page)

Declan launching into lecture mode meant he’d forgotten about her near-slip. Or so
Natalie hoped.

‘What about the psychopath’s relation with their child?’ she said.

‘The psychopath, of course, feels no empathy or remorse. Their connections are determined
by how useful other people are to them.’

‘Which really colours my relationship with Georgia, given I’m going to be called
to court to give evidence.’

‘Stick with her,’ said Declan. ‘Remember it took a long while for Amber to disclose
the truth to you.’

The Halfpenny was having another busy night. The evenings were getting warmer and
Vince had opened up the back section, and it looked to be full of students.

Gil was running late. His wife had had the baby the day before. They were still in
hospital and he’d told the band he’d be there after a stint of proud fatherhood.

‘Any special requests tonight?’ Shaun was looking at Natalie.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That under no circumstances do we do that fucking awful Gloria
Gaynor number.’ Shaun laughed. Tom didn’t.

‘Let’s do the Dixie Chicks one while it’s still fresh.’

They did mostly their own songs. The students ignored them but that wasn’t unusual,
particularly for the first set. By the end of the night the crowd was as loud as
the music but at least some of the noise was appreciative. They seemed to enjoy Natalie’s
sassy angry version of
Not Ready to Make Nice
with Shaun and Gil playing the background
vocals and expressions added for comedy. Natalie didn’t do nice, on the whole, but
she allowed herself to be a little whimsical about time improving things.

Vince grabbed her before she went out front for her routine Jack Daniels.

‘I know it’s none of my business,’ he said, ‘but he’s out there. I don’t like him.’

Liam’s testosterone had got the better of him then. She grinned. She’d figured another
week before he caved. ‘What you don’t like, Vince, is his wedding ring.’

‘So? What’s so wrong about that? Man’s got a wife, kids
too probably; that’s where
he should be.’

‘I’m not about to defend either of us Vince. I note your concern.’

‘If you were my daughter—’

‘But I’m not,’ said Natalie, and turned to go to the bar.

‘And who’s the other bloke that’s been nosing around after you?’ she heard Vince
say to her back. She was already out the door before it had registered.

Liam had her bourbon ready. She took it and looked at him. ‘Publican thinks you need
to go home.’ She sipped. ‘To your doting wife and brood.’

‘I kind of got that impression,’ said Liam. ‘Do you bring out the protective instinct
in many men?’

‘Just the father figures.’

‘I’m relieved you haven’t put me in that group, then.’

Natalie’s expression eliminated the need for words.

Tom joined them, standing with his back to Liam. ‘Still want me to walk you home?’

Natalie hesitated. As she left her warehouse tonight she’d had that uncomfortable
feeling again that someone was watching her.

‘No, Tom that’s fine, thanks.’

Tom glared at Liam. She wondered if Vince had worded him up.

‘So was that fatherly concern?’ asked Liam.

‘TLC. Maybe a bit of lust.’

Liam smiled.

‘I have a bone to pick with you,’ she said. ‘Why the hell is Tiphanie still sitting
in Yarra Bend?’

‘Better than prison.’

‘That’s not an answer.’

‘I’m kind of here to apologise for that, and to explain.’

‘It had better be good.’

They adjourned to the courtyard area, which was slowly being deserted by the students.
Natalie was still hot from singing so she threw her jacket over her chair and put
her feet on another.

‘Start talking.’

‘We can’t get him. We have nothing.’

‘I know that. This is fucked up, Liam. It should at least be infanticide. What do
you need?’

‘Something that ties Chloe to Travis that night. I understand he’s now saying he
isn’t even sure he saw Chloe at all that night, that maybe he’d mixed nights up,
which feeds into the screaming going quiet in the afternoon.’

‘Like he’s a credible witness?’

‘And Tiphanie is any better?’

Natalie drained the remainder of her drink and stood up. ‘I’m going home.’

Liam remained seated. Their eyes connected. ‘You know I’d come if you invited me.’

‘I wasn’t sure actually, so thank you for letting me know. But you’re not invited.’

‘I haven’t slept with her for five years.’

‘Your problem.’ Except why did it make her feel so much better?

‘Not ready to make nice, or will never be ready?’

Natalie smiled and walked away. In the doorway she turned and replied, ‘Time is a
healer, I’m told.’

It was only when she got home that she remembered Vince’s comment about the other
man.

She wasn’t sleeping. Tiphanie’s case was going around and around in her head—better
than thinking about her stalker. Rather than wait until Tuesday to talk to Tiphanie,
she made time to see her on Sunday afternoon. It was a good excuse to escape the
house, even if the Sunday traffic on the cycle path was slow. Immersed in thought,
she nearly ran into an elderly couple and their dog on a ludicrously long leash.

Kirsty waved at her as she passed the nurses’ station but she kept going. Celeste’s
brother Joe flashed his usual toothless grin.

‘Meds doing somethin’ right,’ he said, hand on his sister’s arm and eyes on Natalie.

‘Can I have some more?’ Celeste asked. ‘Them Qs?’

Natalie deflected the question, and wondered if Joe had put her up to it. Qs had
street value. She couldn’t understand why anyone would take mood stabilisers voluntarily.

‘Tiphanie,’ said Natalie as soon as they were alone, ‘I’m going to make this really
simple. You have a choice. You either tell the truth now, and consistently to the
cops, or you’re going to go down. And not here, you’ll be in prison, where child
killers mostly have to stay alone in single cells or else they get murdered.’

‘I didn’t hurt her! I would
never
hurt Chloe.’

‘Look, Tiphanie. Time to grow up. If you did it, fess up. You’ve been lying since
the beginning. You’ve said you were depressed; the right lawyer should be able to
get you out on a community treatment order for infanticide.’

Tiphanie started to tremble.

Natalie was on a roll. ‘And if you didn’t? Tell the cops what happened. So you were
doped up, so you were too tired to close the door properly or settle her. So you
covered up for Travis. Whatever. We can deal with your own guilt
some other time.
Don’t punish yourself by letting him get away with it.’

‘I don’t know what happened,’ she whispered.

‘You know something.’ Natalie said. ‘You took her out and put her in the car with
Travis, when he went to his mate’s, yes?’ She figured that the neighbours got the
day right, timing wrong.

Tiphanie paused.

Natalie waited, until Tiphanie nodded. ‘You were out to it when he got home, right?’

Tiphanie nodded again.

‘And in the morning…?’

Tiphanie was shaking. ‘She wasn’t there.’

‘So what did you think?’

‘He told me…’ Tears started to trickle down her face. ‘I, that is, that she hit her
head. He said we could both get away with it, that it wasn’t anyone’s fault and we
shouldn’t go to prison for an accident.’

‘So who came up with the story that she wandered off?’ said Natalie. It was Amber
all over again, though this time he had done it himself. Was he that charismatic,
this man that had cowered before her?

‘Both of us.’ Pause. ‘Travis.’

‘The car was clean, no blood,’ said Natalie.

‘Which car?’ Tiphanie didn’t look like she was concentrating.

‘Travis’s,’ Natalie replied. ‘There was no sign of her having been hurt.’

Tiphanie nodded, not looking at Natalie.

‘It wasn’t Travis’s.’

Natalie frowned.

‘Travis’s car broke down that night,’ Tiphanie continued.
‘At Rick’s. He drove Rick’s
car home.’

Natalie didn’t hesitate in ringing Damian; she had made it clear to Tiphanie that
she would share information with the police.

‘Broke down? Jesus, you mean that’s what he told Tiphanie,’ said Damian.

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah. I can’t believe his mate has kept quiet; we’ve had him in twice. I’ll go pick
him up again now.’ A pause. ‘Thanks. You’ve been a big help.’

When Natalie got back to her warehouse there was another red envelope stuck to the
door. Outside, at least. The locks were working. She steeled herself and refused
to give any external sign of reacting in case whoever was responsible was lurking
in the shadows as dusk was settling. He was dangerous, she was certain. She could
feel the menace as if he was there with her. At the moment he was still playing,
but she had no doubt he would pounce eventually. Her hand trembled as she bolted
the door.

She put the envelope by the television, got Bob his food and sat down with a beer.
She would have to ring Senior Constable Hudson but it was the solid reliable sound
of Damian McBride she would have preferred, or Liam, who would have been aggressive
and proactive. Perhaps it was time
she
was. She’d relied on the police to date and
it hadn’t stopped things escalating. She couldn’t, in all fairness, see what they
could do. There had been no direct threat. A break-in was illegal but he—or she—hadn’t
trashed the place, and the reality was they wouldn’t do time for it if they were
caught.

Natalie felt the threat just as the sender had intended.
She was sure Senior Constable
Hudson was going to get nowhere with the list, reduced as it was. She needed to work
out if it was Travis. So she could predict what he might do and how far he might
go. So she could be ready.

She shook the USB out of the envelope, picked it up using a tea towel and put it
in her computer. This time it contained a video file. She stared at the icon, steeling
herself, focusing on keeping her hand steady as she hit the play button.

The first clip was her arriving at Punt Road on her Ducati. It was taken from within
the gardens of her rooms, among the trees at the fence line. The second was of her
arriving by bicycle at Yarra Bend, from the Yarra River path. She saw herself narrowly
missing an elderly couple, dog barking loudly. She knew immediately it had been taken
earlier that day. She tried to imagine someone in the place he must have been standing
but failed. He had conveyed exactly the message he wanted to. He was watching her,
waiting. And getting closer.

Chapter 21

Jessie was early, pacing the waiting room. Whatever was causing her agitation could
be a turning point in therapy. If they were lucky.

‘He’s dead.’

The words exploded out of Jessie before Natalie could sit down, a mixture of anger
and hatred, as well as the fear and desperation of a child who still wanted her father’s
love.

‘I wasn’t there! They didn’t ring me until it was too late.’

‘You’d been there for him recently.’

‘He died alone!’ Jessie paced, hands rubbing up and down her arms, scratching at
her right shoulder where her tattoos were densest. No sunglasses though.

Natalie let Jessie vent for ten minutes. She ranted about her father’s medical condition,
then jumped to a diatribe on the nurses at the hospice and about how she hadn’t been
able to talk to Hannah. As the spiel wound down she announced through sobs, with
a sense of hopelessness, ‘And now I’m an orphan.’ She dropped, exhausted, into a
chair—a comfortable one, not the stiff-backed upright one she had chosen in recent
sessions, and between gulps of air said, ‘Daddy I don’t want you to go.’

Natalie moved to sit next to her and put a hand on her arm.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ She rocked herself in the chair, alternating between mumbling
things Natalie couldn’t make out and singing a song with no recognisable tune. Five
minutes passed before she opened her eyes and looked at Natalie. ‘Do you think he
forgave me?’

‘For what, Jessie?’

‘I was only young. I’m so, so, sorry—’

‘Jessie,’ said Natalie. ‘You were a child. He knew that. He was responsible, not
you.’

‘No, no, you don’t understand.’

Natalie sat with her, in the silence.

After several minutes Jessie seemed to pull herself together. ‘I need the computer
back.’

‘I’m not sure now is a good time, Jess,’ said Natalie. She opened the drawer to show
her it was still there. Jessie leaned forward and Natalie rolled her chair slightly
to sit between her patient and the drawer. ‘You’re very emotional, and have a lot
to deal with. Why don’t you leave it here and we can talk about it next session?’

For a moment Natalie thought Jessie was going to push her and grab it, and she leaned
back to show that she wouldn’t prevent her. Jessie stood, hesitated.

‘If you understand it, maybe you can save me,’ she whispered.

At the end of the session, after the door closed behind Jessie, Natalie pulled out
the computer and looked at it. There was something on it Jessie was ambivalent about.
Should she look? Did Jessie hope she would?