Mark of Guilt Read online

  Mark of Guilt

  Diane Hester

  www.romance.com.au

  Mark of Guilt

  Diane Hester

  There’s a murderer on campus. And Lindsay knows where to find the victims’ bodies. But who is going to believe that she had nothing to do with the crimes?

  All Lindsay Cavenaugh wants is to graduate university and prove to her family that she is normal. It’s been almost ten years since she’s had a vision, and she’s sure she’s grown out of her ‘gift’. These days all she has to worry about is passing her exams and keeping her distance from her sleazy lecturer.

  But when a girl disappears from campus, Lindsay’s visions return with a vengeance. Not only does she see where the body of the missing student has been dumped, she also mysteriously acquires the bruises encircling the strangled girl’s throat. The last thing Lindsay wants is to get involved with the police again, but how can she not report what she knows?

  Detective Garren Macklyn has little patience for the so-called ‘supernatural’. Those con artists are the reason his mother is lying in a hospital bed, fighting for her life. So, when Lindsay admits to knowing things only the killer could know, Mac has found his prime suspect. Even if she’s not the murderer, Lindsay Cavenaugh is involved somehow, and Mac is going to get her to admit it.

  But the more time Mac spends with Lindsay, the less sure he is. Is he letting his personal feelings cloud his judgement? Or is there really something more going on here? As the body count rises, Mac will need to decide if he can trust Lindsay. Her life may just depend on it.

  About the author

  Born in New York, Diane Hester is a former violinist with the Rochester Philharmonic and the Adelaide Symphony. Her debut thriller made the finals of the 2014 U.S. Daphne du Maurier Awards. She lives in Port Lincoln, South Australia with her husband and a menagerie of pets.

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  Author note

  While this story is set in Adelaide, I’ve taken some liberties with the city layout, adding some areas that don’t exist and altering others that do. And while there is an Adelaide University, the campus in my story is totally invented, as are the characters who inhabit it.

  Contents

  About the author

  Author note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Bestselling Titles by Escape Publishing …

  Chapter 1

  This couldn’t be happening. Not today of all days!

  Lindsay raced past a cluster of students, dodging puddles in the cobbled footpath. The campus looked renewed, washed by a night of squally rain. The century-old buildings showed all the subtle blue shades of their masonry and the mottled trunks of plane trees stood in stark contrast to the glistening lawns.

  If only the thunder had woken her earlier!

  Rounding the corner of Meldon Hall, she veered towards a building on the far side of the common. Years of teaching fitness classes eased the pain of her sprint across campus. But even she couldn’t run fast enough. Not when her class was nearly over before she’d even left her flat. She bounded up the stairs of the English building, fighting upstream through the current of exiting classmates.

  Amid the throng backed up inside she spotted a head of brazen red hair. The head turned, revealing a round freckled face and bottle-green eyes—eyes that widened the instant they saw her. ‘Lindsay, my god! Where the hell were you?’

  ‘I know, I know,’ Lindsay called back. ‘Wait for me, will you? I’ve got to catch Collier before he leaves.’ She swept past her flatmate, down the hall and into a classroom.

  A plump, middle-aged man with thinning hair and a rumpled tweed jacket stood putting a stack of papers in a briefcase. He looked up when Lindsay burst through the door.

  ‘Mr Collier, I’m so sorry; I don’t know what happened. I just … I can’t …’ She hauled in a breath. ‘This has never happened to me before.’

  The man stood regarding her blandly a moment. ‘You know, for an English major I’d have thought showing up for the mid-year Contemporary Lit exam would’ve been somewhat of a priority.’

  ‘It was. It is! Look, I know it’s the lamest excuse in the world but I overslept.’ She winced at her own words. ‘I set my alarm but it never went off. At least I never heard it. The power must have gone out last night.’

  ‘And yet everyone else managed to get here on time.’

  Lindsay slumped. There was no way around it—she’d stuffed up big time and now had to kowtow to this snide little man. ‘Is there any way I can still take the exam? I’ll do it right now if you have the time.’

  Collier laughed. ‘Not only do you sleep through my test, you expect me to make allowances for it.’ He closed the briefcase and snatched up his umbrella. ‘I’m sorry, Cavenaugh, I cannot help you.’

  She took a step forward. ‘Please. You don’t understand, I have to take this exam.’

  ‘And why is that?’

  The simple question threw her a moment. She was already feeling strangely disoriented, her mind sluggish and thick with shadows. Something more than fear of failing her course lurked in those shadows but she hadn’t yet had time to determine what it was. ‘If I don’t take the test I won’t pass the course and I need this unit to get my degree.’

  Collier shrugged. ‘There’s always next year.’

  ‘Next year? But I’m graduating this spring.’

  ‘Ah yes, so you are. Pity about that. Still, it’s no drama—just drop English as your second major.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Surely you’ll have enough credits in music. Assuming you don’t sleep through your performance assessment.’

  She gaped at the smile that played on his lips. Oh, wasn’t he loving this. His big chance to finally get even with her—for all the knockbacks, all the carefully and not-so-carefully-worded rejections. She couldn’t believe she’d handed it to him on a silver platter. ‘You can’t be serious.’

  ‘Frankly I don’t see what the problem is. You have no burning love of literature, that much is clear from your essays.’

  Another bombshell. Lindsay reeled. Somehow the ground she walked on that morning was not as stable as it had been the day before. ‘I don’t understand. My work’s been up to standard, hasn’t it? You’ve been giving me go
od grades.’

  ‘It’s not about grades. People generally study a subject because they love it. Clearly that isn’t the case with you. Your essays, while well crafted, show none of the passion I get from other students. What motivates you I cannot fathom. But on the eve of the biggest test of the term it would seem you had other priorities. Staying up all night partying perhaps?’ He pulled his briefcase off the desk. ‘My advice to you is to stick with music.’

  She leapt in front of him as he started for the door. ‘I’ve worked towards this degree for three and a half years. I’m six months away from finishing it. My mother and sister are English teachers!’

  This time the man’s frown was genuine. ‘So naturally you thought you’d become one as well? Is that how careers are decided in your family? My sympathies to your future students.’

  She took a deep breath to settle herself. She’d better start thinking clearly and fast. ‘Mr Collier … The reason I failed to show up in time is not because I don’t care about the subject. And it isn’t because I stayed up all night partying either. I give you my word, I went to bed at a reasonable hour.’

  ‘Then you have no excuse, do you?’

  The breath whooshed out of her. ‘No, I don’t. None whatsoever.’ She straightened and looked him square in the eye. ‘But I’m asking you anyway. Please. Will you let me take this exam?’

  For a disturbing moment his gaze crawled over her. Silently he took in her tousled hair, the blouse she’d thrown on and carelessly buttoned even as she’d run from her room. ‘Perhaps your passion lies in other areas.’ His voice was a murmur.

  ‘I beg your pardon.’

  ‘I said, it would seem this means more to you than I had imagined.’

  Hope surged through her. ‘It does. I can’t tell you how much.’

  His gaze drifted back to the front of her blouse. The smile was replaced by a look more unsettling. ‘Perhaps you can show me.’

  Again she hesitated. As before, he’d whispered the words. Maybe she just hadn’t heard them correctly. ‘I—’

  ‘All right, Cavenaugh, I’ll let you reschedule. But my afternoon is full, it will have to be tonight.’

  Relief and gratitude supplanted her doubts. ‘Of course, yes. Whatever you say. I’ll meet you here whenever it’s convenient.’

  ‘Very well, I’m free at eight. But don’t come here.’ That smile again. ‘Come to my home. It’s private. We’ll be more comfortable there.’

  Comprehension seeped through her like ink through a blotter. How could she have been so bloody stupid? Ray Charles could have seen that one coming.

  Her stomach tightened as she took in his plump face, rounded shoulders and soft white hands. The man made her skin crawl, but what choice did she have? She was completely in the wrong and she absolutely, positively had to have this credit. She gritted her teeth. ‘Mr Collier, I don’t know how to thank you.’

  A victorious smile bloomed on his face. ‘We’ll find a way. I guarantee it.’

  ‘The only problem is, eight o’clock might be a bit early for me. So if it’s all right …’ She leaned closer and lowered her voice. ‘You go ahead and get everything ready—the wine, music, anything else you think we might need—and if I’m a little late …’ She lunged and the man jumped back in surprise. ‘Sit on your umbrella until I get there!’

  ***

  Lindsay stormed from Collier’s classroom at the same speed she’d entered it. The flame-haired woman waiting outside fell in beside her as she started up the corridor. Jogging to keep up, Shaunwyn gasped, ‘So what happened? You get mugged on the way to campus or something?’

  ‘I overslept.’

  ‘You? Suzie Sunrise? I don’t believe it.’

  ‘Never even heard the alarm go off.’

  Shaunwyn frowned. ‘Actually, after the night you had, that’s not so surprising.’

  ‘Of all the mornings. Of all the classes.’

  ‘Lins, I’m sorry, I should’ve realised. I should’ve woken you before I left.’

  Lindsay slowed, getting a grip on her anger at last. She didn’t want Shaunwyn to think any of it was directed at her. ‘Forget it. It wasn’t your fault.’

  ‘What did Collier say? Is he going to let you re-sit the exam?’

  ‘Yeah, for a price.’

  Shaunwyn’s eyes widened as her meaning sank in. ‘You’ve got to be kidding. Why, that crotch-sniffing little ferret. Please tell me you’re going to report him this time.’

  ‘What would be the point? There weren’t any witnesses, he’d just deny it.’ Lindsay stopped dead. ‘What am I going to do, Shaun? I can’t graduate without this unit and that little toad knows it.’

  ‘All right, take it easy; we’ll think of something.’

  Students jostled and streamed around them. Shaunwyn grabbed her arm and pulled her to one side of the hall. ‘How about we go to Chancellor Wallace and get her to override Collier’s decision?’

  ‘Yeah, but what excuse can I give her? I’m totally in the wrong here.’

  ‘Tell her the truth. Tell her about the nightmares you’ve been having.’

  ‘What nightmares?’ Shauwyn’s earlier words suddenly registered. ‘And what did you mean by “the night I had”?’

  ‘You didn’t exactly sleep like the dead. I could hear you yelling out from my room. At one point I thought you had a bloke in there with you.’

  ‘Sorry to disappoint on both counts—there was no bloke and I never dream.’

  They resumed a more leisurely pace up the corridor. It seemed to Lindsay every face they passed was etched with the same weary apprehension. The joys of exam week.

  ‘Well you had a couple of rippers last night. Dreams, that is. Little wonder you overslept.’ Shaunwyn took her arm. ‘I know. You can tell Chancellor Wallace you’re having bad dreams about Martha Daniels.’

  ‘The missing girl? That won’t wash; I don’t even know her.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. You can say you’re afraid someone else might get taken.’

  ‘Taken? You make it sound like she was kidnapped. We don’t know anything bad happened to her. She might’ve just decided she’d had enough of this place and shot through.’

  ‘She’s been missing six days, no-one’s heard a word from her, and cops are crawling all over campus. Clearly they think something bad happened. No-one would blame you for feeling anxious.’

  ‘I’m not feeling anxious.’

  Shaunwyn looked down at her blouse and smiled. ‘Distracted at least then, by the look of it.’

  Following her gaze, Lindsay saw she had Tuesday’s buttons in Wednesday’s holes and quickly refastened them. ‘All right I’ll admit, I’m not a hundred per cent this morning.’

  ‘Of course you’re not. Nightmares can really knock you around.’

  ‘I’m not having nightmares.’

  ‘Okay, fine, you never dream, and my favourite food isn’t deep-fried Mars Bars.’ Shaunwyn leaned closer. ‘I’ve been your flatmate for nearly four years, kid. Who would know better what you do in your sleep?’

  A delicate shiver skimmed Lindsay’s spine. She was dimly aware she hadn’t slept well but as to the cause … When she tried to remember she saw only mist. But within the tendrils of that gossamer membrane … A shadowy figure. A low lithe beast.

  She pushed the image firmly from her mind.

  ***

  They left the English building and strode out across an emerald lawn. A bracing southerly swept through the quad, turning umbrellas inside out and ripping the last leaves from the trees. To Lindsay it seemed the dismal weather was a perfect reflection of her current mood.

  How could she have overslept? Even without an alarm she rose before six o’clock most mornings. Why not today? And why was she still feeling so unsettled? It seemed a stronger reaction than her run-in with Collier could account for. More a sense of … anticipation. Or was it dread?

  At the steps of the library, her mood lifted slightly. She loved the old building—the tall arched win
dows, the monastic quiet, the rich scent of books always filled her with a sense of peace. But halfway across the foyer, she stopped at seeing the woman ahead of them.

  ‘Is that Jen Dawson?’

  Shaunwyn quickly took hold of her arm. ‘I didn’t want to tell you but I’m meeting her for a last-minute study session. Sorry, but she’s my lab partner so I don’t have any choice.’

  With a sigh, Lindsay continued walking. This day just keeps getting better and better.

  They entered the book room and moved towards the row of large wooden tables. Seated at the first, two women looked up at their approach. Rachel offered a tentative smile but Jen’s mouth tightened the instant she saw them. ‘Well, if it isn’t Sleeping Beauty.’

  Lindsay put her bag down and began pawing through it, ignoring the gibe.

  ‘You know it must be sweet having the brains to ace your courses without taking exams.’ Jen’s smirk widened. ‘Or is it some other talent that gets you by?’

  ‘Sounds like someone had trouble with the test.’ Lindsay looked up. ‘Get a stiff neck copying off someone else’s paper?’

  The woman’s smirk vanished. She started to speak but Shaunwyn cut her off. ‘Give it a rest, Jen; we’ve got work to do. The exam’s in two hours and we need to go over those formulas again.’

  Lindsay found her tablet and walked off towards the reference section. Most of what she needed could be accessed online but wherever possible she chose to do her research from books.

  She lingered over finding the one she needed and recording the data into her tablet. Not all of this was delaying tactics. With her mind still churning over Collier’s proposal and the prospect of an extra year at uni, she had to read some sentences several times before they would register.

  After an hour she wandered into the music section and pulled out the score to a Beethoven symphony. She carried it back to the table anticipating a few moments lost in its pages. With her gift for hearing printed manuscript, reading a score was as good as listening to a live performance. But taking her seat beside the others, she found conversation had once again shifted to the hottest topic on campus: Martha Daniels.