by M A Comley
Silent tears rolled down the young woman’s face, and she did nothing to wipe them away. “I’m sorry. This is so hard. I haven’t thought about this stuff in years. I thought I had successfully locked it away. Oh God, it’s all come flooding back. Why? How could an uncle betray the trust?”
Lorne left her seat and sat on the arm of the chair close to Emma. She placed a hand over hers. “When did it start, Emma, the abuse?”
Emma turned her head to face Lorne. She looked bewildered beyond words. “You know? What it’s like to be abused?”
“Not personally, but I’ve dealt with plenty of people in a similar situation as yours in the past. Have you had any counselling?”
“No. I couldn’t bear the thought of reliving the details over and over again. I’ve blocked it out all these years. I refused to let him control me even when I’d banned him from my life.”
“I can understand that. I hear it a lot, Emma. What age were you?”
Emma gulped loudly as fresh tears fell onto her cheeks. “How could someone abuse the trust? A family member who my parents trusted? I was five when it first began. I didn’t know what was happening to me. He told me he loved me…” Her voice drifted off.
Tears threatened to spill from Lorne’s eyes. She tilted her head to the ceiling as if to stem the flow. “I’m sorry. Did your parents know?”
Emma shook her head. “No. I refused to tell them. I should have…maybe if I had, the abuse would have stopped. He was my dad’s only brother. Dad loved him, had cared for him when they were growing up because their parents had died in a car crash when Dad was only sixteen.”
“That’s no excuse for what he did to you. Was it just you whom he abused, or did he do it to other members of your family?”
“I don’t know. If he did it to me then I’m sure he was doing it to others. I can’t be sure of that, though. I’ve kept the secret from my parents for so long, I can’t tell them, not now he’s dead. I should feel better now, yes? Instead, the image of him lying on top of me, crushing me under his weight, is constantly in my head. As I got older, he must have sensed that I wanted to tell my parents. To keep me quiet, he used to tell me that he would rape and kill my mother.”
“That’s awful. I’m sorry this has brought all those vile images back, Emma, my heart goes out to you. Maybe you should find the courage to tell your parents now that your uncle has passed away.”
“I couldn’t, it would kill Dad. He idolised his brother. Brought him into our home when his luck was down. That’s when the abuse started…”
“That’s a lot for you to contend with, I’m sorry. Maybe you should consider seeing a therapist.”
“I couldn’t live through the ordeal again, I just couldn’t. I hated him. I’m not sorry he’s dead. Sorry if that makes me sound a terrible person, but it’s the truth.”
“It doesn’t. I totally understand the hatred you must feel inside.”
“Who did it? Killed him, do you know?”
“Not yet. We suspect the perpetrator might be a woman. I know it’s a long shot, but did you know any of your uncle’s friends, former girlfriends perhaps?”
She shook her head slowly. “Why do you believe it was a woman?”
“Certain details that have come to our attention.”
Emma chewed her lower lip. “You don’t think he abused other little girls, do you?”
“There’s no telling if that’s true or not. Do you think he did? Can you remember any other children being around during your childhood?”
“No, only me. Maybe he regarded me as easy pickings.” Emma closed her eyes and shuddered.
“Possibly. Are you up to telling me how long the abuse lasted?”
“Until I was sixteen. I left home then and refused to have any contact with him after that. I haven’t heard or seen him for years. To me he was dead anyway. Maybe it’s relief I’m feeling now. Relief that he’ll never force himself on me again.”
“I reckon. I hate to ask this, but do you think he would have attacked other children in your neighbourhood? Perhaps children living next door? Did you ever hear any gossip along those lines?”
She thought the question over for several minutes. “No, I don’t think so. Oh, I don’t know. Maybe if he did, the kids were too scared to speak out, like me.”
Lorne sighed, suddenly grateful for coming from a family where love meant that she was truly loved for all the right reasons and wasn’t tainted with any form of abuse. “Do your parents live locally?”
“Yes, although they’re away on a cruise around the Caribbean at the moment. Oh God, how the hell am I going to break the news to Dad? I’ve been so wrapped up in my own debilitating memories that I’ve completely forgotten that I’ll need to tell them.”
“Would you rather we broke the news to them?”
“Would you? Perhaps I can pretend I didn’t know. Wait, they might learn that I contacted you and then…oh dear, what to do for the best? That damn man is still causing turmoil even though he’s dead. Sorry, I didn’t mean to speak ill of the dead, it’s just…”
“You don’t have to apologise to us. We quite understand what you must be going through. If you can keep up the pretence, then I’ll willingly contact your parents for you. I’ll obviously need the details of their trip.”
“Dad’s pretty cute, he’ll know that you got the details from me.” Emma’s concern was etched deep into her features.
“I can say we kept the reason why we needed their travel itinerary from you. Which will keep you in the clear. Where there’s a will…”
A relieved smile spread Emma’s lips apart briefly. “Thank you.”
“Is there anyone you’d like us to call? A friend or another member of your family perhaps?”
“No, there’s no one. I’ll give Mum and Dad a huge hug when they come home. That usually puts things back into perspective for me.”
“I hate to ask, but do you have any background information you can share with us about Denis? We know he was a builder, doing odd jobs here and there for beer money, but what we don’t know is any personal stuff, apart from the fact that he divorced his wife twenty years ago. Did they have any kids?”
“No, thank God. I think that’s why the relationship broke down. He was desperate to have them; she had problems conceiving. I can’t help thinking what a blessing that was. Otherwise the child would have lived a life of abuse, right?”
“I’m inclined to agree with you on that one. Girlfriends since his divorce?”
She shook her head. “Honestly, I wouldn’t know. I cut him out of my life years ago and did everything I could to avoid him. Dad invited Denis over to the house several times a year. I made sure I came up with a plausible excuse not to join them every single time.”
“That must have been so hard for you, given how much you adore your father.”
“It was. I hated hurting Dad like that, but it was the lesser of the two evils, I suppose. Lord knows what I would have done if I’d been forced to sit around the dining table with that man.”
“Let’s hope the memories begin to fade now that he’s gone.”
“I hope so. They’ve been pushed back for so many years. Is there anything else you need from me? Only I’m due at work in an hour.”
Lorne smiled. “I think that’s all. What type of work do you do?”
A proud smile appeared. “I work with abused children. It’s truly helped me cope with the situation. Some of these kids went through so much more than I did when I was younger, not that it’s a competition, of course. Every abused child deserves to know that what they’ve suffered isn’t the norm in this world. Like I said before, over the years I’ve managed to push the memories aside. I believe working with children less fortunate than me has allowed me to do that. Some of these children were abused by their parents—they’re in the system now. They’ll never know the true meaning of ‘family love’. Knowing that has helped me cope over the years. Maybe I’m wrong thinking of it in those terms. I con
sider myself lucky that my uncle only managed to abuse me periodically. Some of these kids were raped by their own mothers and fathers every day of their short lives. You can’t imagine what they have to contend with emotionally. Not every child can successfully block out the images as I have in the past.”
A ripple of emotion ran the length of Lorne’s spine. “That’s horrendous, to know there are parents out there willing to treat their children so appallingly.”
“You’d be surprised. I dealt with a whole family of kids a few years back. There were ten of them. Their mother hated every one of those kids, abused them every day of their lives, either mentally or physically. When she was finally arrested, she told the police the only reason she had so many kids was to take her pain and anguish out on them. Every single one of those kids had a different bloody father.”
Lorne ran a hand over her face as an angry flush filled her cheeks. “That’s sickening. People like that deserve the death sentence. Those kids will spend the rest of their lives not trusting people, I’m guessing.”
“That’s where we come in. We try to right the wrongs in their eyes. Show them that what they were subjected to wasn’t love. Some of them understand while others sink further into their shells. It’s easier to work with the younger children who are just confused. The older children bear so many scars, as I did. I’ve come to realise over time that what I suffered at the hands of my warped uncle was nothing in comparison. I’ll go back to work today and forget all about what he did to me. I have to, so that I can try to heal other children.”
Lorne squeezed Emma’s hand. “You’re a special lady. I hope the healing you dish out to others heals you eventually.”
Emma smiled. “I’ll get there. I think it’s going to be far easier now that I know my abuser will be rotting in a grave soon. Sorry if that sounds harsh and cruel. They say you have to walk a mile in someone’s shoes to truly appreciate what that person has gone through in life.”
“That’s so true. I can tell you’re a strong woman, Emma. You’ll get past this; don’t let it eat you up inside.”
“I try not to. I’ve learnt to appreciate life more nowadays, that’s for sure. I’ll teach the kids in my care that true love does exist for them. While I’m doing that it’ll hopefully help me to forget what happened in my own past.”
Lorne stood and handed Emma a card. “Ring me if you need me or if you hear of anything you think we should be interested in. Take care, Emma.”
Katy tucked her notebook in her pocket and joined Lorne at the door.
Emma nodded, and a glimmer of a smile appeared on her pale face. “Thank you. Good luck with your investigation. I feel like telling you to pat the person who killed Denis on the back for me, but that would only make me look bad in your eyes.”
Lorne touched her arm. “You have every reason to think that way in the circumstances.”
Emma closed the door behind them.
Once they were back in the car, Lorne let out a long sigh. “That was tough. I’d feel the same way if I were in her shoes. How can you feel sympathy for a man who abused you from such a young age? Who threatened to kill your mother, if ever you opened your mouth?”
“Okay, I’m throwing this out there because, well, basically we have got fuck all else to go on right now…”
Lorne swivelled in her seat to face Katy. “Go on.”
“What if her parents found out and they’re behind Denis’s murder?”
“You heard what she said, they’re on a cruise. Do you have any idea how far away the Caribbean is, Katy?”
Katy sighed and clenched her fist. “That was below the belt, even for you, Lorne. Of course I’m aware of how far the Caribbean is. What does that matter? If they found out about the abuse, they could have paid someone to bump Denis off.” Katy folded her arms. “We’ve come across something along those lines in the past, even you have to admit that.”
“Don’t get in a tizzy. Okay, let’s note it down when we return to the station. We’ll need to carry out background checks on both the mother and father. My take is that we won’t find anything relating to his family. If he abused Emma, then the likelihood of him abusing other children is very high indeed. That’s the avenue we should be going down. Christ, if he abused his own niece, then what’s to stop him doing the same thing to dozens of other children?”
“Let’s not get carried away. Emma said her father took Denis in for a while. Maybe he seized the opportunity and couldn’t stop abusing her once he’d started.” Katy held up a finger. “I’m not making excuses for him, I’m stating facts. Maybe he didn’t go on to abuse other children when he left their home and moved on.”
Lorne leant over the steering wheel and glanced up at the sky. “Wow, that flying pig has the curliest tail I’ve ever seen.”
Katy slapped her arm. “Mock me all you like, odds are that we’re not going to get to the bottom of it anyway.”
“Now that’s you talking sense. It’s going to be a tough case to solve, there’s no doubt about that.”
“You still reckon it’s a woman though, right?”
“Yep, intuition is telling me that a man wouldn’t cut another man’s dick off.”
Katy sniggered. “I take it you’ve never seen Game of Thrones then?”
Lorne’s brow furrowed. “That’s a fantasy-based series, isn’t it?”
Katy laughed. “Whatever. If ever you get the chance to see it from the beginning, I’d watch it if I were you. All I’m saying is the murderers we deal with are bloody angels compared to that mob.”
“Crikey, and there was me thinking it was all about dragons and shit like that.”
Katy chuckled as Lorne started the engine and did a three-point turn in the road.
Chapter 5
The girls sat huddled on the bed, Kathryn’s teeth chattering. Claire hated seeing her sister so scared. That was why she had to change things. It hurt her heart and her soul to witness the trauma her kid sister was going through. She’d always protected Kathryn and she had no intention of letting her sister down now that they were so much older.
She had more courage in her little finger than her father gave her credit for. In his eyes, she was weak, except on that one occasion when he’d caught her killing Ross Collins. She shuddered at the thought of him discovering her that evening. She’d dropped her guard, her mind set on killing Ross and disposing of his body. She’d almost died of a heart attack when he’d emerged from the shadows, demanding to know what she was doing.
Claire tiptoed across the room and opened the door. This door was never locked, they were never sure why, but their father kept the front door locked at all times and hid the key. She knew where the key was hidden and was determined to sneak out of the house while he was passed out on the sofa in the lounge, the TV blaring, disguising any noise she might make in the process. They could have left years ago, but without funds it would be difficult for her and her sister to survive. That would be remedied soon enough. Like most abused victims, they can see the light at the end of a distant tunnel but are unable to move towards it without having a plan in place and the money to fund their escape.
“I think he’s asleep now or should I say passed out? Either way, I’m going to make my move.”
Kathryn flew off the bed and landed at Claire’s feet. “Take me with you. Please don’t leave me here alone with him. What if he wakes up? Where should I tell him you’ve gone? I’m confused, Claire. I don’t want to do this any more. Let’s steal his stash of cash and get the hell out of here.”
“Where would we go? He doesn’t have that much money, love. I have a plan, let me do things my way.”
Kathryn shook her head, and her eyes watered. “At what cost? If you kill all these men then you’re no better than them, Claire. What will I do if they catch you? Can you imagine the punishment Dad will mete out then?”
Claire sank to the floor and cuddled her sister. “You have to remain strong. This is our only way out.”
“It�
��s not and you know it. Why not kill father and be done with it? It would free us once and for all. Then we could live here, try to pick up the pieces and move on with our lives.”
The thought of killing her own father had never sat comfortably with her. She couldn’t explain why. Perhaps he had some form of psychological hold over her, something that was hard to explain, even to her own sister.
She tugged Kathryn to her feet and settled her on the bed. “Stay there. I’ll check to see if he’s asleep yet.” Claire opened the door slowly, praying it wouldn’t squeak after she’d put some WD40 on the hinges the previous day. She wandered down the stairs, keeping to the edges of each step, and poked her head around the door to the lounge. Her father was in his usual position, lying on his back, his mouth open wide, a spilt can of lager on the floor by his side. She made her way back up the stairs to their room. “He’s asleep. I’m going now. I shouldn’t be too long.”
“What if he wakes up and discovers that you’re missing?”
“Pretend you were asleep and tell him you have no idea where I am. Don’t fight me on this, Kathryn. I have to do this, for both our sakes.”
Her sister laid down and gathered the pillow in front of her, looking like a scared child. Claire pecked her on the forehead and removed her jacket from the hook on the back of the door. She crept down the stairs and collected a chair from the kitchen table. On the high shelf, to the right of the front door, her father had placed the key. She gathered the key and returned the chair to the kitchen. Claire snuck out of the front door and quietly closed it behind her.
She sprinted down the street and caught the bus into town. She had a list of men she wanted to kill. Claire ran her finger down the list and chose Larry Small. She knew he owned a betting shop in town. She was taking a risk going there at this time of night, but she’d heard her father mention to a mate of his over the phone that he knew Larry often worked until ten or eleven at night. She prayed this was one of those nights. The bus dropped her off around ten minutes later. She glanced up at the church opposite—it would be striking ten o’clock soon. Claire decided to see if Larry’s car was parked in the alley at the back of the shop. It was—at least she thought it was his. She hunkered down next to a commercial-sized wheelie bin and waited.
