Mark of Guilt Page 8

  He continued to study her. She’d withheld evidence, almost certainly lied to him, she’d been brusque, evasive, sarcastic and rude. Yet seeing her the night before at the nursing home, playing piano for a group of shut-ins …

  ‘I don’t know what I think of you yet,’ he answered softly.

  Taken aback, she held his gaze a moment longer then turned and resumed her course across the common.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she said when he fell in beside her again.

  ‘Walking you home.’

  ‘I’m not going home.’

  ‘Well, I’ll walk you wherever you’re going then.’

  ‘I don’t need an escort.’

  ‘It’s getting dark. Considering what’s been happening around here lately I don’t think a girl should walk anywhere alone.’

  ‘Ah, but I’m the killer remember? What would I have to worry about?’

  ‘I never said you were the killer.’

  ‘Well, for goodness’ sake, where did I get that idea?’

  ‘I do believe you know who he is though. And that you’re helping him. But that you’ve recently had a falling out.’

  She stopped again, shaking her head. ‘How on earth did you arrive at that conclusion?’

  ‘Those marks on your neck. You want to tell me how you got them?’

  Her hand had flown instantly to her throat. Now, with effort, she lowered it again. ‘I fell.’

  ‘With a rope around your neck? Because that’s the only way you could’ve gotten bruises that completely encircle—’

  ‘I got hung up by the scarf I was wearing.’

  He’d have laughed if the situation wasn’t so serious. ‘Why is it so hard for you to tell me the truth? I could protect you, if someone’s after you.’ He was startled by an urge to touch her face and shook himself free of it. ‘But I can’t if you won’t tell me who the guy is.’

  ‘Protect me? Is that what you call this? I’d feel safer with the killer looking after me.’

  He gazed into eyes he had once found aloof. Nothing about her seemed cold at that moment. ‘You feel like a coffee?’

  She blinked at him. ‘What?’

  ‘There’s a little cafe just over there.’ He pointed to North Terrace, a stone’s throw away.

  Her confusion lifted. ‘Okay. Why not?’

  It was his turn to blink. ‘You mean you’d actually—’

  ‘I’m not stupid, detective. If I turn you down you’ll just corner me some other time to ask your questions. Most likely some place I’d rather not be seen with you.’

  Chapter 14

  They left the campus through its western gate, crossed North Terrace and entered the tiny Jacaranda Cafe. Despite its size it was warm and homey, scented with cinnamon and fresh-baked bread, with a wood fire burning in a pot belly stove.

  ‘So,’ Mac said as the waitress set two cappuccinos before them, ‘what shall we talk about?’

  ‘Don’t bother asking, I know what you want. You want to know more about my gift.’

  ‘According to that test you just took, you don’t have one.’

  Her cup hit the saucer. ‘What?’

  ‘Ikeman said you got the lowest score he’d ever recorded in three years of testing.’

  ‘The lowest? But that’s … I don’t understand. I thought …’ She leaned towards him, desperation bright in her eyes. ‘Did he really say that?’

  Mac cleared his throat. It wasn’t lying, just omitting a few select facts. ‘Ikeman said the average score was twenty in a hundred and you got two.’ He studied her closely as he sipped his coffee. ‘Disappointed?’

  ‘Are you kidding? No, I … I just don’t know what to make of it, that’s all.’ Her gaze snapped up at him. ‘But I’m sure you do. You think it proves I was lying.’

  ‘It certainly doesn’t support your claims.’

  ‘I don’t care what it supports; I told you the truth—I saw where the body was in a dream.’ She noted the stares of the other customers and lowered her voice. ‘Oh what’s the point? I might as well talk to this tablecloth.’

  ‘As far as I’m concerned nothing’s been proven, one way or the other.’

  ‘You know there might be another explanation for my low score. It’s possible I’ve succeeded in my efforts.’ She checked his expression. ‘Yes, that’s right. Contrary to what you might believe, this is one gift I would rather not have. I can’t study, I can’t sleep, I can’t ever relax …’

  Mac waited, refusing to fill the edgy silence. Just listening to someone was often the best way to get them to talk.

  ‘It hadn’t happened in such a long time I thought it was over.’ Her voice was distant. She closed her eyes. ‘Ten years of peace. Ten years of living a normal life. You have no idea how wonderful it was.’

  Her eyes fluttered open. ‘When it started again, so suddenly like that, I just wasn’t ready. I’d tried so many times to stop it before. I thought that if I could just look away … But it never worked. No matter how I try, I always see him.’

  ‘Always see who?’

  ‘The dog. A skinny, scruffy-looking, nameless mongrel. The dog is how it always begins.’

  Mac fought to keep all expression from his face.

  She laughed at his efforts, seeming to accept that her words sounded crazy. ‘Okay, you want to know the truth, I’ll tell you. You won’t believe a word of it, but here it is.’ She took a deep breath.

  ‘When I was little I used to see a dog that no-one else could see. The first time I would’ve been about three years old. I only saw him now and then at first. But after I turned five I saw him quite often.’

  ‘You’re talking about an invisible playmate.’

  ‘No. That’s what my parents thought but it wasn’t like that. I never actually got close to the thing, I just saw it from a distance—walking on the street or through our back yard. Sometimes even inside our house. Always the same animal. A tall, grey, skinny hound.’

  ‘How do you know it wasn’t a real dog?’

  ‘For years I thought it was. Then one day I pointed it out to my mother and she didn’t see it. Neither did my sister or any of her friends.’

  Her gaze grew distant. ‘I could always feel when the dog was there, before I even saw it. I’d look up and there he’d be, staring at me. Then he’d start to walk away and when I turned my head to watch him go, that’s when I’d see the other things.’

  ‘What other things?’

  ‘Whatever it was he wanted to show me. Sometimes there’d be a person standing there. Sometimes I’d see a place. Distant and real but … not really there.’

  ‘Sounds like daydreaming.’

  ‘No. Daydreams happen when your mind is idle and starts to wander. These things came to me often when I was deeply engrossed in something else—a game or at school. Sometimes in the middle of a sentence I was speaking.’

  Mac leaned forward. Her eyes were suddenly glossy with fear.

  ‘Once it started I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t look away or block it out—the real world faded and the dream took over.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ he whispered, resisting the urge to take her hand.

  The glint in her eyes turned to anger. ‘Except it wasn’t all right. It was never all right. What do you think the people around me thought when I suddenly stopped talking and stood with my mouth open like an idiot? What do you think happens to a girl who stops dead in the middle of the road and doesn’t hear the car horns honking around her?’

  ‘I imagine your family was very concerned.’

  ‘They thought I had epilepsy. Or a brain tumour, or worse. They took me for every test you can imagine—blood work, CAT scans, X-rays, spinal taps.’ A violent shudder rocked her frame. ‘I haven’t been able to go near a hospital since.’

  She shook off the memory and refocused. ‘The tests didn’t show anything because there was never anything physically wrong with me.’

  ‘But you kept having spells.’

  ‘Yes. And then
one day it finally hit me. The dog was the trigger. Whenever it happened, I’d always see him first. If I could just turn away, if I could somehow force myself not to look at him …’

  ‘And did that work?’

  ‘No. I could never do it. I was just a kid, I didn’t have that kind of mental control. But I’m older now. I think if I practice, if I really work at it, I might be able to.’

  ‘You said you went ten years without having a spell. If you weren’t controlling them, what made them stop?’

  Something changed in her eyes. She settled back, drawing away from him. ‘I don’t know. They just stopped on their own.’

  ‘Just like that? How old were you?’

  ‘Fourteen or fifteen.’

  He sensed the door beginning to close. ‘Nothing happened to you around that time? No major changes or upsets in your life?’

  ‘None that I recall.’ Closing and shut.

  He tried anyway. ‘So for fourteen years you have these spells, so frequent and severe that your family has you hospitalised. Then all of a sudden, zip—nothing at all until your dreams about Martha Daniels. How do you explain it?’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘What is it about the Daniels case that would set you off again?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘But if you truly have some kind of ability, how can it come and go like that? I don’t understand.’

  ‘And you think I do?’

  He had hit the wall. She would go no further. But clearly there was something she wasn’t telling him. ‘Are you seeing anyone at the moment?’

  She frowned. ‘You mean as in dating? What has that got to do with anything?’

  What indeed? Her flatmate had already told him she wasn’t. What he needed to know of course was why. But was that the only reason he’d asked? ‘Just answer please.’

  ‘No, I’m not seeing anyone.’

  ‘Not even casually? How about in the past? Anyone you broke up with who wasn’t happy about it?’

  ‘To break up with someone, one must first have had a relationship.’

  That tripped him up. ‘You’ve never had a relationship.’

  ‘Is that so surprising?’

  ‘Frankly, yes. I mean …’ A minefield suddenly stretched before him.

  ‘Blokes don’t find it particularly attractive when a girl vagues out on them, detective. They tend to find it a bit awkward when their date goes all glassy-eyed and starts mumbling things that don’t make sense.’

  ‘So you have had visions since you’ve been at uni.’

  ‘No. But there was always the chance I might. And I long ago decided I’d never put myself in that position again.’

  ‘What position is that?’

  ‘To be stared at, laughed at, whispered about. You know the type, I’m sure.’

  The pain in her eyes betrayed no lies. ‘Sounds like a pretty lonely life.’ His voice dropped lower. ‘If things were different …’

  Her startled expression snapped him out of it. He grabbed the check and rose abruptly. ‘I’ll get this.’

  At the counter he pulled out the money to pay. Passing it over, he looked back to find their table empty. Lindsay was just going out the door.

  He watched her as long as he was able—across the street and through the campus gates—feeling oddly let down when she moved out of sight. Strange that he had said such a thing to her. Stranger still that he’d meant every word.

  ***

  Lindsay hurried through the darkening campus. Lights were coming on along all the paths and inside the buildings. Despite the risks of walking alone, she was grateful for the solitude in which to sort out her conflicting thoughts.

  What had the good detective been up to? He’d acted almost like a human being—listening to her, even sympathising with her. A ruse to get more information out of her? Based on previous cops she’d known, it seemed most likely. And yet …

  Unbidden, his face appeared in her mind. It had always seemed such a solemn countenance, incapable of expressing much emotion. Or was he simply well trained at concealing his thoughts?

  That ghost of a scar above his lip. Somehow instead of degrading his looks it actually enhanced them, made him seem dangerous yet strangely vulnerable. She couldn’t help wondering how he’d gotten it. And if he had any others anywhere else on—

  She stopped the thought dead. She would not go there. The man was a cop. One tiny step up from doctors and shrinks.

  Yet today for the first time she’d glimpsed a different side to the man. A touch of humour, concern for her safety … He’d even said he didn’t believe she was the killer.

  I could protect you if someone was after you.

  The memory of the words had the same effect now as when he’d spoken them—a tightening in her stomach, a shortness of breath.

  One girl was dead, another missing. Could Macklyn be forgiven for using any means to catch the man responsible? Even subterfuge? Had her personal baggage distorted the way she’d perceived his actions?

  Deep in her thoughts, she didn’t see the figure hurtling towards her till they both collided. She drew back and looked at the woman’s face.

  ‘Shaunwyn, for god’s sake! What’s the panic?’

  Her friend stood gasping. ‘I was coming to find you. Are you all right?’

  ‘Of course I’m all right, why wouldn’t I be? You didn’t think—?’ She bit back the words.

  ‘I was more concerned about a different predator.’ The woman straightened, her breath returning. ‘Lins, I’m so sorry. I had to tell him where you were, I couldn’t get out of it.’

  ‘Tell who where I was?’

  ‘That detective bloke, Macklyn. He came to the flat looking for you, asked me all kinds of questions about you. I tried to set him straight but I don’t think it helped.’

  Tension seeped back into her muscles. ‘What did he—?’

  ‘He’s convinced you’re part of what’s been happening, doesn’t believe you have ESP. He even implied you might be some kind of obsessed psycho. I told him he was the one who’s nuts, but he wouldn’t listen.’ She hauled in a breath. ‘So did he find you? Did you talk to him again?’

  Lindsay slumped. So much for Macklyn being one of the good guys. ‘Yeah, he found me.’

  ***

  ‘I ran that cross-check for Daniels and Willas.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Seated at his desk, Mac remained glued to his computer screen as Sam delivered his most recent findings.

  ‘Not a lot there. As far as I could find, the two girls had no friends or boyfriends in common. No clubs, jobs or extra-curriculars. They did take a few of the same classes but in different years. Daniels was two years ahead of Willas. It’s unlikely they’d have had much contact.’

  ‘Follow up on the courses,’ Mac said. ‘Run a background on any teachers they had in common.’

  ‘First thing tomorrow. I’m heading off home.’ Sam stepped closer when he didn’t respond. ‘What’s got you so absorbed?’

  ‘I was checking records for Lindsay Cavenaugh.’

  ‘You think she’s got a prior?’

  ‘She’s definitely had some run-in with police. She’s made a few comments—knows what we’re like, we’re all the same …’

  ‘And? You find something?’

  ‘In records, no. But a Google search brought up an article about her in a New South Wales paper dated eleven years ago. Apparently the family used to live in Armidale and there was some incident involving police. I’m reading it now.’

  Sam perched his bulk on the adjacent desk.

  ‘From the look of it no charges were filed. She was simply questioned in relation to the drowning death of another girl—one Adelle Phillips.’ Mac scanned further. ‘Phillips was reportedly epileptic. It was believed she had a seizure while walking near a dam, fell in and drowned. Both girls were fourteen at the time.’

  Mac sat back, briefly distracted. Fourteen. The age Lindsay had said she’d stopped having spells.

 
‘If the death was accidental, why did they question Lindsay about it?’

  ‘It says the Phillips girl failed to return home after visiting a friend. I’m guessing that friend was Lindsay.’ Mac found his place and skimmed a bit further. ‘Police and volunteers searched the neighbourhood and surrounding area but found no trace of Adelle for twelve hours. However the following morning—’

  He read the words twice before he could speak them. He looked up at Sam. ‘Lindsay told police where to find her body.’

  Chapter 15

  Lindsay walked down the psych building corridor. She was bleary-eyed from lack of sleep and edgy from her night of dreams. After what Macklyn had told her the day before, she’d thought it might be over. She’d dared to hope that her low score on Ikeman’s test meant she had succeeded in stifling her gift. Now she knew better.

  She had woken so often during the night she’d lost count. Each time her dreams had receded at once—though her fear had been enough to choke her awake, she’d caught not a glimpse of its cause.

  Perhaps in this small way she had been successful. Though she’d sensed something, she’d managed to keep the full horror of it from surfacing in her mind. But it wouldn’t last, she could sense that as well. It was only a matter of time before whatever it was broke through into consciousness and swept her away.

  She strode on into the research wing. Her only hope lay with Dr Ikeman. If he knew as much as everyone said, if he’d found ways to heighten psychic abilities, he might know a way to repress them as well.

  She came to his room and stopped before it. The door was open yet she stood unmoving. She’d vowed never to go near a shrink again. Could she actually ask one for help? Could she find within her the strength and trust to willingly bare her soul to one?

  She shivered as she considered the words she would need to speak. Yet maybe it wouldn’t come to that. Maybe she could get what she wanted from him without revealing too much of herself and her past. She stepped through the door and tapped lightly on its glass.

  Ikeman looked up from where he sat at his computer. ‘Ah, Lindsay, come in.’ He rose from the desk. ‘I was hoping you’d come back to see me today. Oh, but you look half frozen. Come down this end of the room, it’s warmer.’