by Diane Hester
Mac ushered her into a classroom and closed the glass-fronted door in his face.
She stumbled two steps into the room and whirled to face him. ‘You told them, didn’t you? You told the press I knew where the body was.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘How else would he know?’
‘He was probably at yesterday’s media conference. In fact I’m pretty sure—’
‘Oh, don’t give me that.’ She pointed a finger. ‘I know what you thought. Just one more push should just about do it, right?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Me. You figure I’m so near the edge—bad dreams, shaking hands—all you had to do was keep the pressure on, keep pushing and I’ll crack and tell you everything you want to know. Your lies wouldn’t do it, so you had to find some other way.’
‘Now look, I don’t know where you get your ideas from—’
‘Don’t you? I thought everybody did.’ She threw up her hands. ‘I’m delusional, crazy. I make it all up. I get my ideas from the great unknown.’
‘Well, crazy or not, you’re going to answer some more of my questions.’
Her mouth dropped open. ‘You think I’m going to talk to you after this? You think I’m actually going to cooperate?’
‘We’ll start at the beginning.’ Mac calmly flipped open his notebook. ‘How did you know Martha Daniels was at the library on the night she was abducted?’
‘Forget it! I’m out of here. I’ll take my chances with the media vermin.’ She started for the door.
Mac side-stepped into her path. ‘How did you know Martha got into a car with someone that night?’
‘No. I’m done. You want anything more from me, you get a court order.’ She veered around a desk to bypass him.
Matching her speed, he was once again there between her and the door.
‘Now you see, this is what I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘Assuming for a moment you’re telling the truth and you do have some kind of psychic gift, why wouldn’t you use it to help me with this?’
Something tightened in Lindsay’s chest. ‘None of your business.’
He took a step towards her. ‘I mean, doesn’t it strike you as incredibly selfish that a person would have such a rare ability and refuse to use it to help others?’
The vice clamped tighter. She stepped away. ‘You don’t know anything about me.’
‘So tell me. Explain it to me. If other psychics help police with cases, why won’t you?’
She whirled and retreated up the aisle away from him.
He trailed her towards the back of the room. ‘One girl’s dead, another missing. You might be able to do something about it. And yet you refuse.’
Panic snapped viciously at her heels. She had to get out.
‘Or would that adversely affect your grades? Interfere with your agenda to graduate with honours in a double major, the perfect student.’
She rounded a benchtop the length of the aisle. At last, a clear path. She bolted for the door.
‘Who did Martha meet after leaving the library?’
Halfway there and Macklyn was only just turning to follow.
‘Why didn’t you tell me the first time I questioned you?’
Three more paces. She was going to make it!
‘Who’s Adelle Phillips?’
She stumbled to a halt, hand outstretched, frozen in the process of reaching for the door.
***
The effect of his last words was all Mac had hoped for. Yet, oddly, he didn’t feel the least bit pleased. In fact, he felt downright sick about what he’d just done. What he’d had to do. ‘It’s over, Lindsay. Time to level with me.’
She stood as she was.
He stepped around her to see her face. Her wide eyes stared down at something in the corner. As far as he could see there was nothing there. ‘Lindsay?’
She lowered her hand and began backing away from it. ‘No. Please.’
Mac took her arm. ‘Hey. What is it?’
Her head moved slowly, coming around till her ashen face was inches from his. But it wasn’t him she had turned to see. Her gaze was fixed on some lower point beyond his shoulder, her pupils dilated, her breath short and ragged.
Mac waved a hand before her face. No change, no reaction.
She stood another moment in a sightless daze. Then her eyes rolled back and she slumped against him.
Chapter 17
A face hovered over her—mournful expression, ocean blue eyes, a scar slanting out from sensuous lips.
She fixed on the last, that silvery line that marked him as damaged. ‘Like a cat’s whisker.’ She reached out to touch it.
‘What did you say?’
She blinked, focused. Thoughts coalescing, she jerked back her hand.
She pushed him away, fought to sit up and looked around. Lying on the floor? In a classroom she’d never been in before? She touched her head. ‘God, what happened?’
‘I was kind of hoping you could tell me.’ Mac sat beside her, resting an elbow on one raised knee.
‘I must have fainted.’ The idea filled her with a curious hope. A fainting spell. Caused by low blood sugar, middle ear trouble, or any of a host of other physical problems. An ordinary fainting spell. Just like any normal person might have.
‘But before that …’ he prompted. ‘Something else happened. You were staring at the floor. You didn’t hear me when I spoke to you.’
Lindsay slumped. So much for the refuge of physical causes. She put a hand to her temple and winced.
‘Careful, you’re bleeding.’ He raised the handkerchief he was holding. She took it from his hand, pressed it to the spot, then frowned at the bright red splotches on the fabric.
‘Don’t worry, you won’t need stitches. But I’ll be damned if I can figure out how it happened.’
‘Obviously I hit my head when I fell.’
‘That’s just it, you didn’t fall. I caught you when you slumped against me.’
Slumped against him? Against that tall lean tower of … She smothered a flutter. ‘And dropped me straight away, no doubt.’
That drew a smile. ‘I laid you down as gently as possible, I swear it. I certainly didn’t let you hit your head.’
He leaned a bit closer. His breath stroked her cheek as he examined the wound. ‘It’s an odd crescent shape. Deeper on one side. Almost like you got hit with the end of a pipe.’
His scent—winter rain with a hint of soap—swirled in her head. The heat coming off him would dry her clothes if she sat here much longer. She shoved her hands under her and started to rise.
‘I’d stay put for a while if I were you.’
Ignoring the warning, she pushed to her feet. He rose and stood close, poised to catch her again if she teetered.
She inched away from him. ‘I don’t understand it. I’ve never passed out from a spell before.’
‘You mumbled a few things as you were coming around,’ he said. ‘Do you remember who you were talking about?’
She thought a moment then her eyes grew wide. ‘Bethany.’
‘That’s what it sounded like.’
‘Yes, I saw her! Bethany Willas. The second girl. I remember now.’
She took a few tentative steps away from him. ‘There was … a hill. I don’t know how big; I only saw one small section of it. Fairly steep. Covered with bushes. No trees, just shrubs. Melaleuca I think.’
She closed her eyes. ‘There was water nearby. I didn’t see it but I heard it. And traffic. And … something else. Every now and then …’ She squeezed her eyes tighter, then suddenly opened them. ‘A lion.’
Mac arched a brow.
‘I know it sounds crazy but that’s what I heard. A lion roaring.’
‘Where is she, Africa?’
‘No. She’s here. Somewhere in Adelaide.’
‘So what is this place? Where is this place?’
‘I don’t know, but …’ She swallowed. ‘Bethany is there
.’
Frowning, Mac took a few aimless steps of his own, then turned back to her. ‘Anything else?’
‘No, that’s all.’
‘What about before you fainted?’
‘I don’t remember anything from before.’
‘Try.’
She closed her eyes again. ‘I don’t know … a building maybe. Something really huge, made of steel…’ She shook her head. ‘It isn’t clear.’
He thought for a moment. ‘Ever been to Botanic Park?’
‘Sure, now and then.’
‘The Torrens runs through it. There must be a dozen bridges going over it with traffic crossing day and night.’
Her confusion lifted. She saw what he was getting at.
‘And just off Bligh Street, at the bottom of Frome—’
She brightened. ‘The zoo! The roaring lion.’
‘Could that be the place?’
‘It might be, yes. But as I said, I only saw one small area.’
‘Would you know it if you saw it for real?’
The question stopped her. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m asking, if I brought you there and you walked around, would you know the spot?’
She took a step back. ‘Now wait a minute …’
‘If you’re right and it is Botanic Park, that’s a huge area. I’ll need you to point me in the right direction.’
‘You’ve got people to help you with that.’
‘Even with a search team it’d take far longer without you there.’
‘Then let it take longer!’
He hesitated, seeming almost reluctant to pressure her. ‘And what if Bethany’s still alive?’
Lindsay cringed and bowed her head. ‘She isn’t.’
When she opened her eyes again, it was as though a different man stood before her. Gone was all trace of the sympathetic friend. In its place, the impenetrable, hard-edged cop.
‘As far as I can see there’s only one way you could be sure of that.’
‘Right, we’re back to that again, are we? If you don’t believe me, why are you so eager to search the park?’
‘I’m not doubting what you know, just how you came by the information.’
‘You saw how I came by the information. Even after what just happened, you still can’t accept—?’
‘What just happened could simply have been a well-rehearsed act.’
She threw up her hands. ‘I give up. There’s no getting through to people like you.’ She marched for the door.
Mac caught her arm. She let out a yelp.
***
At her cry of pain, Mac released her. They looked at each other, equally stunned—his grip on her arm hadn’t been that hard.
Slowly, fearfully, she pushed her sweater sleeve up to her elbow. An angry purple mark spanned her forearm.
‘How’d you do that?’ he said.
‘I … I don’t know. It wasn’t there a few minutes ago. Maybe when I fell just now.’
‘I told you, you didn’t fall. You didn’t hit anything and nothing hit you.’
Her look grew accusing. ‘Then you must have done it.’
‘Police brutality? You honestly think that?’
Frowning, she returned her gaze to the bruise. ‘I swear to you, this wasn’t here when I woke up this morning. It wasn’t here when I entered this room. I—’
She froze at a thought, as though suddenly fearing another possibility. If she was faking, she was doing a bloody fine job of it. Slowly she raised both hands to her throat, turned to face him, and rolled down her collar.
Mac bent closer. ‘Those were nearly gone when I saw you yesterday.’ He trailed a finger over the fresh line of bruises that circled her throat.
She winced at even this gentle touch. ‘They were nearly gone when I looked in the mirror twenty minutes ago.’ Her eyes filled with fear. ‘My god, what’s happening to me?’
Mac held his ground, fighting a most unprofessional urge. God help him, he was trying, but keeping his distance from this fragile, stunning creature was proving more difficult by the hour.
Even as he watched, she took a deep breath, swallowed hard, and looked him in the eye. ‘All right, you win. I’ll go to the park with you on two conditions.’ Before he could answer, she quickly added, ‘They aren’t big ones. At least not as far as you’d be concerned.’
He noted the tremor in her lower lip, her rigid stance, the hitch in her breathing. Whatever she was struggling with, she was barely managing. ‘What are they?’ he said.
‘This is a one-off deal, and you keep the media jackals away from me. Nothing about my helping you can appear in the papers.’
‘Why is that so important?’
She hesitated. ‘My family would be worried about me if they knew.’
‘You mean you haven’t—?’
‘Those are my conditions. Do you accept them?’
He gazed deep in those fear-filled eyes. If she’d just let him help her … ‘All right, fine. I can’t make any promises about the second one but I’ll do my best.’
‘Thank you.’ She nodded towards the door. ‘You can start by making sure that creep from the Bulletin isn’t still out there waiting for me.’
Mac leaned out into the hall, looked both ways then held the door wide. ‘All clear.’
Lindsay stepped through and they started for the exit.
‘You know,’ he said, ‘just for the record, I wasn’t lying. We did have a media conference yesterday and that bloke was there, but I never said anything to them about you.’
Her smile was strained. ‘Shoe’s on the other foot, isn’t it, Macklyn?’
‘What do you mean?’
She turned to look up at him. ‘It sucks when people don’t believe what you tell them.’
Chapter 18
They pulled up behind a line of police cars—members of the search team Mac had assembled to meet him at the park. Exiting his Prado, Lindsay stood at the edge of a sweeping lawn. Moreton Bay fig trees arched overhead, their raised roots snaking through the grass. Officers stood in clusters nearby. One whom she recognised broke from the pack and came towards them.
‘Sam, this is Lindsay,’ Mac said. ‘Lindsay, my partner, Sam Gifford.’
He allowed them but a cursory exchange before issuing the man his instructions. ‘I’ll take Ekland, Foakes and Parker and go up this bank. You take the others, cross the bridge and check that side. Tell them to pay particular attention to slopes covered in melaleuca.’
‘Got it,’ Sam said, then leaned closer. ‘There are a couple of reporters around so watch it.’
Mac nodded, watched him walk off, then turned back to her. ‘What do you say we go for a stroll?’
For a moment she stood hugging herself, staring out over the undulating parklands. She spotted the hollow of the river’s ravine and a shudder rocked her. ‘Just a walk in the park, right?’
Mac took her arm. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be with you every step.’
‘Is that meant to comfort me?’
He couldn’t help smiling. ‘You really do hate cops, don’t you?’
‘Not all; just some.’
She let herself be led onto the lawn. They moved from the shadows into welcoming sunlight. The squall that had drenched her that morning had passed. For the first time in weeks the sky was clear, the air warm with the promise of spring.
Like so many things in her life at the moment, she knew it was just an illusion.
How could she ever have agreed to come here? Six days earlier her biggest worry had been the stress of exams. Now it was starting all over again, and the worst part was she was on her own. No-one to help her through it this time, no-one who even believed her claims. Because of Shaunwyn she couldn’t run. Whatever was coming, she had to face it.
‘So how are your tests going?’ Macklyn said. ‘They must be just about finished by now.’
The question surprised her. Did he honestly think she’d believe he cared? ‘You’ll be happy to
know I failed my first one since entering uni.’
‘Now why would I be pleased about that?’
‘I didn’t think you liked me much either.’ A leading statement. Why she’d said it she didn’t quite know. She glanced at his face, but like any good cop he showed no reaction.
‘So what happened with your test?’ he said.
‘About what you’d expect under the circumstances. I haven’t been sleeping, can’t study, can’t concentrate. The finer points of neo-classicism must have eluded me on the day.’
They were nearing the river. The slope towards its banks was gentle here but a bit further up, the water’s course turned between low wooded scarps. The sight chilled her through.
‘That’s too bad,’ he said. ‘Despite what you think, I’m sorry to hear it.’
Her gaze drifted back to him. He’d sounded concerned. A part of her longed to believe it was genuine but she wasn’t fooled. ‘Well, it did make one person especially happy—my English professor.’
‘Your professor was pleased you failed the exam?’
‘He and I don’t exactly get on.’
‘So it isn’t just cops.’
She shot another glance at his face. His smile seemed genuine enough. ‘So far even you haven’t stooped to his level. The slimy toad has been harassing me all term.’
‘Harassing how?’
‘Let’s just say he’s prepared to trade grades for certain personal favours.’
She looked up when he didn’t respond. A muscle was twitching in his jaw.
‘Who is this bloke? I think I might have to have a quiet word with him.’
‘Everett Collier. But don’t trouble yourself, I’ve got him sorted.’
He shook his head. ‘I shudder to think. Bloke obviously doesn’t know who he’s messing with.’
They’d changed direction and were now paralleling the water’s flow. Ducks and black swans dotted its surface. Her feet grew heavier with each step they took towards the narrow gully.
Mac looked down at her. ‘You okay?’
‘Never better,’ she croaked.
He followed her gaze. ‘Something starting to look familiar?’
‘Over there. In front of that footbridge.’
He nodded and slipped a hand through her arm. ‘You’re doing fine.’
