Mark of Guilt

by Diane Hester

‘Anyone hear if they’ve found her yet?’ Shaunwyn said.

  Jen made a face. ‘If they had, the cops wouldn’t still be all over the place, would they?’

  Lindsay opened the heavy score. The cover slapped the table and swept her pen off onto the floor. She reached beneath her chair to retrieve it and spotted something small and shiny lying against the leg of the table.

  ‘She probably just split,’ Rachel said. ‘You know, dropped out. Couldn’t stand the pressure.’

  ‘Exam week might’ve been the last straw. And who could blame her.’ Shaunwyn laughed. ‘I’d sure like to get the hell out of here.’

  Lindsay picked up the shiny object, then straightened and held it up in the light. An earring. A teardrop-shaped amethyst set in white gold.

  Jen leaned closer to the other two. ‘Steve told me Martha was seeing a mate of his. He reckons she left to get an abortion.’

  Lindsay barely heard the reply. The earring had begun to tingle in her hand. A prickling sensation crawled up her skin, as though a draft had raised the hair on her arms and neck. Except there was no draft. The library air was warm and still.

  ‘Well, we better get going. I need some lunch before I face this exam.’ Shaunwyn began gathering her papers together. ‘You ready, Lins?’

  Lindsay sat frozen. A shadow had slunk past the edge of her vision, the dark shape moving with silent purpose. She shuddered as the near-forgotten feeling enveloped her.

  Unwilling, yet powerless to resist, she lowered the earring and looked beyond it. There on the floor on the other side of the table, the hound sat gazing steadily back at her. Oh god, it can’t be.

  Shaunwyn stopped packing her books in her bag. ‘What did you say?’

  Lindsay rose slowly, her eyes growing wide. ‘No, get away. You can’t. Not here.’

  ‘Lins, what is it? Are you all right?’

  Jen and Rachel turned to see what had prompted Shaunwyn’s concern.

  Lindsay stood mute, her gaze now lifting from the floor to fix on a point in the unseen distance. Unseen to all but her mind’s inner eye where an alternate drama had begun to play out.

  ‘What’s with her?’ Rachel said. ‘Looks like she’s in some kind of trance.’

  ‘She was here,’ Lindsay breathed, unable to stop herself speaking the words just as she was unable to stop the images forming inside her mind. ‘She waited in the library until it closed and then she left.’

  Shaunwyn frowned. ‘Who was here?’

  ‘He didn’t come, so she went outside. She was angry. She needed to talk to him. She started walking back to the dorm.’

  Jen laughed. ‘She’s left the planet all right. Too many uppers before exams.’ She leaned towards Lindsay. ‘Yo! Cavenaugh! Picking up any signals from passing aliens?’

  ‘Shut up,’ Shaunwyn snapped. Then to her friend, ‘Lins, come on, you’re starting to scare me. What are you talking about?’

  ‘But he was there,’ Lindsay insisted. ‘Waiting outside. The car pulled up. She got in and they drove away.’

  ‘Who got in?’ Shaunwyn took her shoulders when she didn’t reply. She turned her head sharply, breaking the thread. ‘Who got in the car and drove away?’

  Lindsay blinked back at her. ‘Martha Daniels.’

  Chapter 2

  Lindsay sat with her arms wrapped around her. The smell of hot grease, burnt cheese and boiled vegetables hung in the cafeteria’s overheated air, turning her already queasy stomach. Voices and laughter bounced from the walls, further strafing her fragile nerves.

  Her tremors had eased since leaving the library but she was still having trouble dealing with the shock. What had she done? What had brought it all on again? Why now after all these years?

  She looked up suddenly, taking in the students seated around her. She was certain she’d felt their gazes upon her, the heat of their silent accusations. Not the frank hostility Jen always gave her, but circumspect looks. Guarded looks. Looks that said, ‘There isn’t proof but we know it was you.’

  Not a single face was turned in her direction. No-one even seemed to notice she was there.

  Emerging from the crowd at the counter, Shaunwyn came over, set down two bowls of chicken soup and took the seat opposite. ‘What are you doing after this?’

  Lindsay tried to keep her voice even. ‘I don’t have any more exams today so I thought I’d practice. My performance assessment is the week after break.’

  ‘Forget about piano. If I know you, you’ve had your pieces learned since March anyway. I think you should go back to the flat and crash. You still look pale.’

  ‘It does sound tempting. But I have to make that appointment to see Chancellor Wallace.’

  ‘I’ll take care of it. I’ll make it for mid-morning tomorrow so you can get some rest.’

  Though her tone had been casual, Lindsay saw concern in her flatmate’s eyes. ‘Thanks. I owe you.’

  Shaunwyn huffed. ‘Now I know something’s wrong. When have I ever been able to talk you out of practising? Or anything else for that matter?’ She raised a spoonful of soup and blew on it. ‘So are you going to tell me what’s going on, or what?’

  It could have been the voice of a dozen other people—her parents, sister, teachers, doctors. Anyone who’d ever tried to understand, who’d thought that by simply caring they could make a difference. ‘Nothing’s going on.’

  ‘You know, things get pretty hairy around here exam week. Sometimes the stress can sneak up on you.’

  ‘It’s hardly the first time we’ve faced exams. We’re in our final year after all.’

  ‘Exactly. Five months from graduation, with years of hard work hanging in the balance. You don’t think that could make a difference?’

  Lindsay tightened her grip on her spoon. ‘I’m not stressing out over exams.’

  ‘The trouble with Collier?’

  ‘I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.’

  ‘Well, then what?’

  ‘I told you, nothing.’

  Shaunwyn let it rest for all of five seconds. ‘I wouldn’t keep going on about this except it’s so unlike you. You’re always so cool, so organised. Nothing fazes you—exams, recitals, pervert instructors. You’ve been a total rock up till now.’

  Lindsay pushed her bowl away untouched. No, not a rock. A film of ice over treacherous water. A defence that had taken years to create and nearly as long for her to trust in. And now that ice was breaking apart.

  ‘For three years you sail through every course,’ Shaunwyn went on. ‘Top of your class, honours all the way. Then out of nowhere you start having nightmares, miss an exam, flip out over some dog in the quad …’

  Lindsay winced, recalling her behaviour outside the library. Still recovering from seeing the hound, she’d shied from a passing labrador, clutching Shaunwyn’s arm and saying repeatedly, ‘You see him, right? Tell me you see him.’

  She swallowed hard. ‘I think I might be coming down with something.’

  ‘You mean like the flu? Must be one hell of a fever to make you hallucinate. That is what happened back there, isn’t it? Because it sure as hell looked—’

  ‘My god, will you drop it; I said it was nothing.’

  The minute she spoke them, she regretted the words, though she knew Shaunwyn would take no offence. Lindsay closed her eyes and counted to ten. When she opened them again, a tall dark-haired figure was standing by their table.

  ‘Hey, Lindsay. Hey, Cupcake.’

  Shaunwyn sighed. ‘What is it, Jason?’

  ‘I’m heading over for Matthews’ exam and just wondered if you wanted to walk together.’

  ‘I’m kind of in the middle of something at the moment. I’ll catch you over there.’

  ‘Okay, sure. No worries.’ He flashed Lindsay a disapproving look before turning away.

  Shaunwyn shook her head as she watched him walk off. ‘You’d think with those looks he’d be irresistible, every girl’s dream. So why is it I always felt more like his mother than his girlfriend?�
�

  Eager to atone for her outburst, Lindsay welcomed the change in topic. ‘I take it he hasn’t got the message yet.’

  ‘He’s having trouble grasping the just-friends concept. Keeps pressing for us to get back together. Can’t really blame him I suppose.’

  ‘So there’s no chance of you two …?’

  ‘No way. Poor old Jason’s just a bit too clingy. I never had much of a maternal instinct.’ Shaunwyn slanted her a knowing glance. ‘It won’t work, you know.’

  ‘What won’t work?’

  ‘Changing the subject. We were talking about you.’

  ‘You were talking.’

  ‘Lins, I just—’

  ‘Shouldn’t you be heading off? You don’t want to be late for your exam.’

  ‘Stuff the exam.’ Shaunwyn leaned forward across the table. ‘I want to know what happened to you in the library. That scene was like something out of The X-Files. You went white as a sheet, staring into space, and you wouldn’t answer me when I talked to you.’

  ‘Okay, okay.’ Lindsay lowered her hands to the table and took a deep breath. It wasn’t quite the truth but it might be enough. ‘You know the nightmares I had last night?’

  ‘The ones you said you didn’t have?’

  ‘Yeah. Well I suddenly remembered one. It … just took me by surprise, that’s all.’

  Shaunwyn sat back, briefly appeased. ‘What do you think made it come back to you like that?’

  The catalyst for the episode flashed in Lindsay’s mind. The earring! She must have left it behind on the library table. Not that it mattered; she certainly wanted nothing more to do with it. ‘I don’t know, it just did.’

  Shaunwyn’s eyes narrowed. ‘So out of the blue you suddenly recall a dream you’d forgotten and the image is so powerful it overrides your awareness of present reality.’

  ‘It was pretty vivid.’

  ‘I guess so. So what was it about?’

  Lindsay shrugged. ‘You know. The usual. Scary stuff.’

  Shaunwyn held her gaze a moment longer then wiped her mouth and pushed her empty bowl aside. ‘Something tells me I’m still not getting the whole story here.’ When Lindsay opened her mouth to protest, she put up a hand. ‘Relax, I’m not going to push any more. But just so you know …’

  She picked up her handbag and got to her feet. ‘When you’re ready to talk about this, I’m ready to listen.’

  Chapter 3

  Macklyn entered the hospital room and froze at the sight of the man leaning over his mother’s bed. The anguish and fear of the past six days massed in his throat, reducing his voice to a hollow growl. ‘What the bloody hell are you doing here?’

  The man straightened, lifting his pathetic excuse for a chin. ‘Waiting for her to regain consciousness. She’s going to need me when she does. If she does.’

  Macklyn clenched his fists and stepped forward.

  At once he felt a hand grip his shoulder—Sam must’ve followed him into the room. ‘Easy, Mac, this isn’t the place,’ his partner whispered close to his ear.

  He clamped down on his murderous impulse.

  ‘I’d have come sooner if they’d let me see her,’ the man beside the bed continued. ‘Surely she would have wanted me here. I just pray it’s not too late.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘I hope you realise what you’ve done.’

  Macklyn lunged.

  Sam’s huge arms closed around him, hauling him back. The pair swung sideways into a table, knocking a metal pan from its rack. Even at the sound of it hitting the floor, his mother never stirred in her bed.

  From the grip of Sam’s bear hug, Mac glared across at the intruder. ‘Wexler, if you’re not out of here in ten seconds you’re going to be needing one of these beds.’

  The man paled. He gathered up the books he’d spread out on the blankets and scuttled past them.

  A dour-faced matron came through the door even as Wexler was rushing out. ‘What is going on in here?’ Hands on hips, she took in the scene, spotting the metal pan on the floor. ‘May I remind you, detective, that this is a hospital.’

  Mac threw off his partner’s hold. ‘I don’t want that man in here again, you understand? Rufus Wexler. He is not to go near her.’

  ‘Your mother’s condition has stabilised somewhat. Friends are now permitted—’

  ‘He is not her friend.’

  The matron frowned. ‘Mr Wexler informed us he was your mother’s spiritual adviser.’

  ‘Oh, he’s her adviser all right. He’s the one who advised her to stop taking her insulin.’

  A moment to evaluate the man before her, then she gave a curt nod. ‘I’ll let them know at the nurse’s station.’ She bent and picked up the pan. ‘I’ve paged Dr Humes. He’d like a word with you.’

  Mac stopped her as she turned for the door. ‘You said my mother’s condition had stabilised. What does the doctor want to see me about?’

  Something flickered behind her eyes. Something that could have been sorrow or pity. ‘He’ll need to explain that to you himself. He won’t be long.’

  The matron walked out and the room closed in. Mac grew aware of a humming inside him, as though a low current were passing through his body.

  ‘Sorry, Mac.’ Sam edged closer. ‘Much as I’d have liked to see you deck the bloke, I didn’t think you wanted to—’

  ‘No, you were right, mate. Did us a favour.’ Mac swung to face him. ‘Do us another, eh. Go down the cafeteria and get me a soft drink or a juice or something. I’m dry as a chip.’

  ‘There’s a water fountain just out in the hall.’

  Mac held his gaze. ‘A soft drink or a juice, mate. Please.’

  The big man nodded and left him alone.

  Mac drifted across the room to stand at the foot of his mother’s bed. Thin winter light seeped through the window leaching the last shred of colour from her face. ‘Why?’ he whispered. What made a woman who’d loved and lived as fiercely as she had for sixty-four years give up all control of her future?

  At a sound from behind him he turned to find Dr Humes coming through the door. Mac floundered through their initial exchange, awash in a sea of meaningless terms. Until two words, and the manner in which they were spoken, drew him up sharply. Test results.

  ‘I’m afraid the scan revealed the circulation in your mother’s legs has been reduced to virtually nil.’

  The current passing through Macklyn’s body jumped a notch.

  ‘At this stage the matter isn’t desperately urgent; you have a few days. But as your mother is yet to regain consciousness, I’m afraid the decision will have to be yours.’ The doctor held out the paper he carried. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Mac scanned the form in his hand. The word ‘amputation’ leapt from the page. He swallowed the thing trying to crawl up his throat. ‘Both her legs?’

  ‘I’m afraid there’s no longer any alternative; the condition is too far advanced. A month ago, perhaps even as little as two weeks, we might have been able—’

  ‘And the odds of her surviving the operation?’ It seemed someone else had asked the question, the voice had come from so far away.

  ‘Better than if she doesn’t have it, that’s all I can say.’

  Mac turned away. His attention strained to escape out the window but was caught by movement. A lime green caterpillar inched along the sill. What was a caterpillar doing in a hospital? Had it come in on some flowers? There weren’t any in his mother’s room.

  He imagined the immense and perilous journey the creature would have made coming from even across the hall. How had it escaped the striding feet, the burring wheels of trolleys and chairs, the cleaner’s mop, the oceans of bleach and disinfectant? The crushing desolation and despair of this place?

  ‘She’s an active woman,’ he said at last. ‘She has her church groups, does volunteer work, teaches Sunday school. If the choice were hers she’d never consent to—’

  He turned to the doctor and held up the form. ‘If I do this and she lives … What do I s
ay to her when she wakes up?’

  Chapter 4

  ‘The chancellor’s office is up that way.’ Sam pointed to a corridor leading off the back of the student lounge. ‘Her appointment was for nine o’clock, so she should be coming out any minute.’

  Mac unbuttoned his leather jacket and thrust his hands back into its pockets. Even deserted, the lounge had an air of vitality about it, an aura left behind by its recent occupants.

  He stood a moment drinking it in, a welcome change from the desperate feel of the hospital room he’d only just left. People intensely alive had been here—discussing, arguing, laughing, confiding, their minds filled with questions, hopes and dreams. Minds not much younger than his but in some ways certainly more agile.

  Even in this day of tablets and smart phones it appeared at least some of them still read the papers. Reluctantly he scanned the copy lying open on the nearest coffee table, its headline screaming a needless reminder that one of those young and vital minds had recently vanished without a trace. So far Mac had unearthed not a single clue as to the girl’s whereabouts. A fact that preyed as heavily on his mind as what he’d left behind in the hospital.

  He turned back to Sam. ‘Okay, I’ll take Cavenaugh. You go see what you can find out about her from administration.’

  ‘Anything in particular you’re after?’

  ‘Whatever you can get. What kind of student is she, what kind of person. If she did see something, I want to know how reliable a witness she is. We may finally have copped a break with this, Sam. I don’t want to get my hopes up for nothing.’

  ***

  Lindsay and Shaunwyn stepped from Chancellor Wallace’s office into the hall of the admin building.

  ‘There, you see, I told you she’d listen.’ Shaunwyn beamed a self-satisfied grin. ‘Don’t muck around with the little people, that’s what I always say. If you want results, go straight to the top.’

  ‘I have to admit I’m surprised,’ Lindsay said. ‘I never dreamed she’d go over Collier’s head, even with him being the weasel he is. I wonder if other students have complained about him.’

  ‘I wouldn’t doubt it. The man has serious self-control issues. They should do us all a favour and have him desexed.’