Poison Orchids: A darkly compelling psychological thriller

by Sarah A. Denzil

  “Hayley?”

  Her eyes snapped open, wide and panicked. She winced at the bright hospital light above her head, surprised again to be plunged into brightness after spending so much time in the dark. Her throat was still raw from the smoke inhalation. For a moment, she’d imagined it was from the dry air in Rodney White's aviary.

  “Would you like some water, Hayley?”

  As Hayley's sore eyes adjusted to the brightness, she made out three figures: the psychologist from that morning and the two detectives. Megan, the psychologist, was the one who was talking. She nodded to Megan, wishing they would all disappear and leave her alone.

  “Did you say my parents were coming? When are they getting here?” Hayley croaked. Her palms itched, and her insides squirmed. She didn’t want to see anyone; she just wanted to be alone so she could try to piece together the flashes of memories she’d been having. There were times when the chill on her skin felt so real that she thought she was back in the cold place, but then she forced the memory away, knowing that it would only bring her pain to remember.

  She wanted to be back on the farm, washing the mango sap from her hands, eating the sweet flesh when she got hungry, or messing around with Gemma and the others. She missed the kiss of the sun on her skin and the tickle of the grass on her ankles. But it alarmed her that even those memories were in fragments. Sure, she remembered the taste of the mangoes, waking up in the cabin with Gemma in the other bed, and Tate Llewellyn’s smile… but that was it. It was broken. She was broken.

  “I'm sorry, sweetheart, I didn't hear you.” Megan turned back and handed Hayley a glass of water.

  She drank it down greedily, forgetting that the doctors advised her to be careful not to gulp. She winced at the pain in her throat and placed the water on the small table. No, she certainly wasn’t at the farm anymore. She was here instead, bruised, sore, and sick of the people in her room.

  “When are my parents coming?” she asked again.

  “Soon.” The female detective spoke up. What was her name? Briony? Bron… Bronwen. “They just landed in Darwin, and they're getting the next flight over to Katherine. You'll get to see them tomorrow.” She smiled and nodded as though it would fix everything Hayley had been through. Hayley, however, knew that it would not.

  Megan pulled the chair closer to the bed again and leaned forward, just as she had that morning. Hayley wasn't even sure how much time had passed since she'd last seen the psychologist. Was it late afternoon? Evening? The next day?

  “I'm so sorry we woke you,” Megan said, “but we needed to ask you a few more questions about the cold place you mentioned.”

  “I told you, it's just a bad dream.” Perhaps if she told herself that enough it would be true.

  “Were you dreaming about it before we came in?” The male police officer asked. She'd forgotten his name. “You seemed frightened when we walked in.”

  “No,” Hayley said. “I was having a different… bad dream.” All these questions made her head throb even harder. Sometimes it was as bad as being locked away in Rodney White's cage. No, she wouldn't think about it. She wouldn't think about what happened there next to that disgusting man’s aviary. The sound of bird wings echoed through her mind, and she blocked it out. Sometimes she worried that if she did think about it, she'd never come back and nothing would be left of her.

  “I'm sorry, Hayley,” Megan said. “I know this is hard for you. The detectives are just here to listen so they can make the best case possible against Rodney White. You remember them, don't you? Detective McKay and Kouros. You spoke to them yesterday.”

  “I remember them,” Hayley replied. “What does it matter about Rodney White? I thought he was dead.”

  “We still have to get all the facts,” Detective McKay said gently. “White could have had an accomplice, or he could have hurt other girls. If he has hurt other girls, they’re going to need our help. Everything you tell us brings us a step closer to piecing all the clues together and making sure the victims are found and cared for.”

  For the first time, the enormity of what had happened hit Hayley, and she realised that it wasn't just her and Gemma who had been hurt by White. He must have done it to other girls before. Her memory was still hazy, but she knew that they'd been chained up somewhere. That meant he was prepared. He'd practised. She closed her eyes and leaned against the hospital pillow. This was so much more messed up than anyone knew.

  “What can you tell us about the cold place?” Detective McKay asked.

  “I… I swear it isn’t real. It isn’t real.”

  “Hayley, do you recognise these keys?”

  Hayley lifted her head from the pillow to see Detective Bronwen McKay produce a plastic bag with some old keys inside. She shook her head.

  “What about this?” Bronwen proffered a small note with scrawled letters on it. The note was old, damaged, and only a few letters remained.

  “I’ve never seen it before,” Hayley said.

  “Okay, this might be difficult for you to do after everything you’ve been through, but it’s really important that you think as hard as you can,” Megan said. “Do you remember anything else at all that might help us?”

  “I don’t know if I can… the concussion—”

  “I know,” Megan said. “But you’ve had flashes before. I really think that if you concentrate you can remember something. Will you try for us? For the other girls that Rodney may have hurt?”

  Hayley nodded her head. Then she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

  Perhaps the doctors were wrong about her concussion. Maybe she could force her memories to the surface. She made herself go into that terrible dream where she'd felt the cold all over her body, and a chill swept over her arms and torso.

  She could smell the cold, like blood mixed with ice, and feel it creeping up her neck, prickling the fine hairs there. Her breath came out in a cool vapour. She was frightened and freezing, and her hands trembled at her sides. Even though she was still in the hospital bed, part of her was afraid that she didn't know the way out or that the door was locked. She wasn't sure which it was; all she knew was that she was terrified she'd never get out of there alive.

  The light was dim, but she stumbled forwards, needing to move to keep warm. That was when her eyes began to adjust to the dark and she realised there was something in the room with her.

  “Hayley?” Megan leaned closer. “Are you all right?”

  Her eyes opened, pulling her from the dark, cold room to the bright, warm hospital room. She lifted a shaking hand to rub her temples, trying to stem the throbbing pain that had taken up residence in her skull.

  “Hayley?” Megan prompted in a gentle tone. The psychologist reached for Hayley's arm but seemed to think better of it, dropping her hand.

  “It was like I was there.” Hayley reached for the glass and gulped down a couple more mouthfuls of room-temperature water. When she was done, she gazed down at her forearms expecting to see goose pimples spread across her skin. But there was nothing.

  “What happened?” Megan asked.

  “It was a dim room, and I could barely see. No windows. It was cold, so cold. I didn't know if I could get out. I think I was afraid that someone had locked the door behind me. But I walked forward, and that was when I felt like there was something or someone in the room with me.”

  “Rodney White?” asked detective Kouros.

  “I don’t know. It was so still, like nothing was moving, not even the air. But I felt like I was being watched. And there was this smell, I think it might have been blood, but I don’t know.”

  “What kind of room were you in, Hayley?” Detective McKay took out her notebook and jotted something down. “You say it might have smelled like blood? And with no windows? Hmmm, could it have been a freezer? A cold room? Like a type where they keep animal produce?”

  “I think you’re right. It was a freezer room. It was too cold to be anything else.”

  The three pairs of eyes staring
at her made her feel ashamed that she couldn't remember more. Everything was a jumble inside her head, and she wished she could tell them what they wanted to hear.

  “Where is the freezer room?” McKay asked.

  “I… I don't know. When I have those… dreams, I always see a dirt track and… I can’t remember.” She paused and tried again. “I think there’s some sort of barn there too.”

  “What do you remember about the barn? What colour is it?” Detective McKay was still scribbling in her notebook.

  “It was just wood, with a sliding door. The cold place, the freezer room, had no windows, and I think the door had a padlock on it. I don't remember anything else. Can I go back to sleep now?”

  “Soon, Hayley.” Detective McKay smiled at her, though it wasn't a particularly warm or reassuring smile. “Can you tell us more about this mango farm you and Gemma stayed at?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “It was this place where you could work in return for lodgings. Lots of backpackers went there. Tate, the guy who runs it, grows mangoes mostly. He has a room just for orchids, they're the most beautiful flowers you've ever seen. He used to take me to see them every now and then. But mostly I worked with a group harvesting mangoes.”

  “It’s a beautiful place. Joe and I took a drive up there today. We spoke to Sophie, Tate’s assistant, do you remember her?”

  Hayley nodded, excited to be thinking of Tate and his mango fields rather than the cold place. “Yeah, I remember her. She sorted out all the financial stuff and organised the rooms.”

  “According to Sophie’s records you stayed at Llewellyn Farm for a total of fifteen days.”

  “What?” Hayley’s jaw dropped. “That’s not right. We were there for months. Can you check again? There must be some sort of mistake.”

  “We can check again for you.” Detective McKay smiled. “A lot of backpackers pass through the farm, lots of young people. I bet there’s quite a bit of partying going on.”

  “Yeah, all the time. I can’t remember everything right now. There was a campfire though. And drinking, I guess.”

  “Sounds like a Friday night at Joe’s house,” Detective McKay joked, flashing her partner a cheeky grin. “Did you see any drugs at the farm?”

  Hayley felt the blood drain from her face. “Weed, I think. Look, it’s still hazy after my head injury. Like I said, there are huge chunks of my memory that are just gone. I remember dancing, and I remember how sometimes people passed joints, and…” She trailed off, remembering how she occasionally took a joint to smoke. And… well, there was more she remembered too.

  Detective McKay’s jokey tone was gone. She remained stern-faced as she made notes in her little book. “Just weed?”

  “Some pills,” Hayley admitted.

  “I know this is hard,” Megan said. “But it really helps us if you’re honest. You won’t get in trouble for talking about the drugs at the farm.”

  Hayley glanced from Megan to Detective McKay and hoped the psychologist was right.

  “Did you take any drugs, Hayley?” Detective McKay asked.

  This was it. They wouldn’t take her seriously now. She reluctantly nodded, knowing that they’d think she was not only a crazy girl with a head injury but a junkie too.

  “I didn’t take that many, I swear. Just a few joints and a few pills and only at night.”

  Megan reached across and squeezed her hand. “It’s all right, Hayley.”

  But even with the best of intentions Megan could never know if it was going to be all right. What did she know?

  “Okay, let’s move on,” Detective McKay said. “Tell me more about what you remember about your stay there.”

  “I… I remember working on the farm. I shared a room with Gemma.” Hayley tried to sort through the fragments of memories in her mind. “The Chemist, umm, that was what we called Tate, showed me the orchids. He said he was working on some sort of perfume, and he had a laboratory.” She was getting tired. Nothing was making sense anymore, and she was beginning to wonder what was real and what wasn't. One thing she could remember clearly was Tate. She remembered walking with him through a field of grass, and she remembered being happier than she’d ever been in her life.

  She remembered the day he'd taken her into the greenhouse filled with stunning orchids in every colour imaginable. He'd placed a gentle hand on her waist, but she'd liked that. Everyone loved Tate, and why wouldn't they? He was a generous, thoughtful, gorgeous millionaire who wanted to make the world a better place. Even though there were lots of backpackers working on the farms, Tate still took the time to remember everyone's name. He often brought coffees to the fields and let people take long breaks to cool off in the natural waterfalls in the nearby Kakadu Park.

  Gemma would come to bed telling Hayley all about how Tate had smiled at her, how he'd brought her an extra coffee, or complimented her. The two girls would lie there giggling about his dazzling smile and tanned arms. Some evenings they went camping with the other backpackers, and all the girls would gush about him over their beers and joints.

  Did you see The Chemist in that V-neck T-shirt? Hot!

  He brought me a pastry today. I'm officially his favourite.

  But suddenly the memory soured, leaving Hayley with a strange sense of anxiety and shame. That anxiety was directed at Gemma, but Hayley couldn’t remember why. Gemma had done something, she was sure of it. Gemma had upset her, and it had something to do with Tate.

  “What is it, Hayley?” Megan asked, picking up on Hayley's change in expression.

  But Hayley just shrugged. “I think I'm getting mixed up again. If you want to know more about Tate, go ask Gemma.”

  8

  Gemma

  Three sets of footsteps shuffled in through the doorway. Gemma, sitting cross-legged on the floor and facing the wall, didn't turn her head. She was out of words, couldn't speak anymore. Megan was right. She'd told too much too soon. The things Rodney did to Hayley and her—

  I'm inside Rodney's cage again, but this time, the cage is in my mind and I'm trapped there.

  “Gemma…” Megan's hand came down on her shoulder. “You okay?”

  She recoiled from the touch. “Please, I'd just like to be alone.”

  Megan's voice softened. “I'm sorry, but we really need to talk. Detectives Bronwen and Joe are here too. It's urgent.”

  The three of them remained standing behind her. It was obvious they weren't going away until they got whatever they came for.

  “We just want to show you something,” said Megan. “Two keys. We need to know if you've seen them before.”

  Why was Megan trying to force her to look at keys? Keys keep you locked up tight. Locked in the dark. Locked away where no one—

  “Gemma, listen…” It was Detective Joe Kouros's voice this time. “There have been other missing girls over the past months and years. We need to know if there are any girls that Mr White is—or was—keeping locked up somewhere.”

  Inclining her head, Gemma rested her forehead on her knees. She felt Megan's hand slip away from her shoulder and heard her softly sigh.

  “If you won't talk to us,” said Megan, “maybe you'll talk with Hayley? We're going to bring her in here, okay?”

  An involuntary shiver rained down Gemma's back, and she stiffened. She knew no one would notice that. All her life, no one had noticed her pain. Her family wasn't even bothering to come and see her.

  Someone stepped away. A moment later, the door swung open again.

  “Hello, Gemma.” The voice so small and uncertain. Hayley's voice.

  Gemma edged around. Hayley barely resembled the girl she'd been when Gemma last saw her. Her blond hair was clean and falling in neat waves around her face—instead of caked with dirt and blood. Her expression was aloof—instead of crumpled in terror. The cuts that Rodney had inflicted were starting to heal over.

  Fear began pumping through Gemma’s body. She’d tried hard to block out what Hayley had done, and she’d felt safe—almost—with
the police and guards around. But now that she was forced to face her, it was different.

  Detective McKay brought two chairs over. “Please, sit. Both of you.”

  Reluctantly, Gemma rose and took the seat that was offered.

  A nervous smile flickered across Hayley's face but didn't reach her pale, almost colourless eyes. “How are you?”

  Keep it vague. Act like you remember nothing. “I'm not sure how I am. I'm not sure I even know who I am anymore. How about you?”

  Hayley drew her lips in. “That's exactly how I am too. I don't even remember—”

  “Don't you?” Gemma said sharply. Too sharply. She had to learn to control that. They'd forced her to see Hayley, and now she had to deal with it. She couldn't let Megan and the detectives know about Hayley, because Hayley was too good at playing innocent. She'd talk her way out of all accusations, and then she'd come after Gemma.

  Hayley twisted her fingers together, her eyes darting away as she shook her head.

  The room fell into silence. Gemma was reminded of the kind of thick, blanketing silence of a church after the priest asks his parishioners if any of them are without sin. Her mother had dragged her to the local church a few times when she was a kid. “Show me someone who never did anything wrong, and I'll show you a damned boldfaced liar,” her mother used to say.

  “Gemma.” Bronwen stepped across and sat on the bed in between them. “Can you tell me about these?” She opened the palm of her hand out to display two small metal objects. The keys.

  Gemma felt her throat pulling tight. She'd heard the jangle of keys clinking, clinking, clinking in Rodney's hand every day—for the first month after he'd locked them in the cage. After that, days could go by in which they didn't see him. In which they had no food. Just darkness and suffocating heat and the never-ending screech and caw of the birds in the cage next to theirs.

  “They're Rodney's, right?” Gemma heard herself state. “Why do I have to see them again?”

  “We just need to know what they're from,” Bronwen told her. “They don't fit the cage in Rodney White's shed or anything else there that we can find. We found half an address or something along with the keys. A road that ends with the letters O N. That could describe a thousand roads between here and Darwin.”