Necessary Evil of Nathan Miller

by Demelza Carlton

  Navid shrugged. "I have no idea. Applications are handled in Canberra. If he has, and you disappear…it's true that we aren't permitted to consort with contacts, witnesses and suspects outside of standard work arrangements. You won't see or hear from him, especially if you’re in witness protection." He glanced at me. "You should ask Nathan about that."

  I shook my head. "No. Nathan has no idea I know who he works for and I think he prefers it that way. Mott's going to negotiate that with Nathan. He said…Nathan will take the job."

  Navid snorted. "And you believed him?"

  I didn't say anything. I wanted to believe that Mott was a blatant liar as well as a bastard, but I also wanted to believe that Nathan had been operating under his orders…until he disobeyed them to help me. Only Nathan could tell me the truth.

  I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

  Part 79

  As Navid pulled out of the driveway, I called Jo. Jason answered instead.

  “Just who I wanted to speak to,” he drawled, as I thought the opposite. “How long before you think you can play? We’ll lose our Freo gig if you can’t in two weeks...”

  “A gig in Fremantle won’t last long,” I replied impatiently. “I’ve arranged us a recording contract and a live performance in Melbourne next Friday. I need to talk to Jo and we need to book flights, accommodation...”

  “You got us a recording contract? How?” Jason shrieked.

  “Give me that,” Jo demanded and her voice grew louder. “Caitlin? Why does Jason seem to think we have a recording contract?”

  “We don’t yet, but we will by next week,” I replied. “Part of...the interview that’s airing next week. It’s a long story, but it’s true. We’ll sort out the contract details next Friday morning and we have a live TV appearance scheduled for that evening in Melbourne. If all goes to plan, we’ll spend the following week recording our first album.”

  “I...don’t believe it,” she admitted. “How?”

  “I can’t really say,” I hedged. I wondered if my phone was tapped. “Come over and we can discuss the details. We also have to book the flights...”

  “I’ll be right over,” she responded. “Bye.”

  Fifteen minutes later, she was indeed over and I was able to show her Mott’s email, confirming what I’d told her, including the name of the label we were apparently signing with.

  She reread the email twice, shaking her head. “I thought you’d have to sleep with, kill or blackmail someone to get a contract like this, but you...”

  Did all three. I forced a smile. “I should have discussed the terms with you and Jason first, but this is a better contract than we’d get any other way. Do you think you’ll be able to go to Melbourne next week?”

  She laughed. “I’ve already rung work to take the time off. We need to get you some new clothes before we do anything else – Melbourne shopping is just what you need. I think we should leave tomorrow if we can.”

  The last bastard will have to wait. If he turns up at all – he might be sitting under a rock somewhere, where slimy things like him hide. “Okay,” I replied, my heart feeling lighter.

  “You’re not bringing Nathan, are you? I’m not dragging him shopping,” she said.

  I hadn’t even thought about Nathan. I tried to hide my shock. “I...haven’t even mentioned it to him. It’s not like I’ll need him in Melbourne.” I swallowed, suddenly feeling very alone. Witness protection might feel just as lonely, if Nathan chose his career over me and his own health.

  “Cool. Let’s head up to the travel agent’s and sort out our flights and accommodation.”

  Part 80

  Ambulance – Shots – Road – Police – Blood – Nathan – Numb

  Blood blossomed on Nathan’s shoulder, painting a red flower on the chest of his shirt. He looked horrified.

  I threw myself on top of him, knocking him over, so both of us lay flat on the road.

  My breath caught in my throat. Was he shot in the heart or lungs? I wanted to pull off his shirt and check the damage, but getting my weird, twisted, numb hands to grasp his shirt was hard to do.

  "Don’t leave me," I told him, raggedly.

  He gaped like a fish out of water. His mouth moved but no words came out.

  Please, not his heart or lungs. Please don’t let me watch this man die for helping me.

  After a few moments, he made an effort to speak. "It’s all right." He forced the words out. He said something else, but it was drowned out by the shouting behind him, between the police officer on the ground and two of his colleagues. They made him hand over his weapon, pinning him to the ground like some kind of criminal.

  You shot the man who helped me, you bastard.

  Nathan's shirt was saturated with blood. I’d never felt more helpless, unable to help myself or this wounded man. This man I desperately didn’t want to die. I needed him alive.

  My voice was hoarse, partly from emotion and partly from shouting earlier. "You said you’d never let them hurt me again. You promised."

  He just stared back at me, agony on his face.

  I tried to shift his shirt clear of the wound, so I could see where he’d been shot, but my hands wouldn’t cooperate. He pulled my hand away from his shirt, looking sad.

  "Please..." I began, shifting off him and back onto my knees. I touched my fingers to the road to steady myself, then realised that the road was wet and my hands were damaged, so I lifted my hand away, but it came away red. Fresh blood, pooling on the road. How could he lose so much blood and stay conscious?

  The world slid sideways and went dark.

  Part 81

  I debated whether to tell Nathan about the trip, the contract and the new life I’d be living in Melbourne, then realised I couldn’t. His boss was supposed to make the offer to him and he might not have said anything yet. Part of witness protection was not telling anyone – I couldn’t even tell Nathan.

  Fate had other ideas. Detective McGuinness called, asking for both my memories and my ability to identify my attackers. Apparently someone had noticed suspicious activity near an old World War II bunker in some bushland down south. When the local police had gone in to investigate, they’d found dead bodies and evidence of someone being held captive in one of the bunker chambers, so they’d called him in.

  He didn’t need to say it. I already knew he’d found where they’d held me. A forgotten war bunker, which had probably seen no violence or action until my advent. Hopefully it never would again.

  His voice went all funny as he said they’d had some help from ASIO in identifying what were apparently terror suspects. Did I still have that ASIO operative watching my every move?

  I wondered how to tell him that Nathan was with me, without letting Nathan know I knew who he worked for.

  “Just put me on speakerphone so he can hear me,” the Detective said after a moment, probably guessing my dilemma.

  I let him repeat a much abridged version of the story he’d told me, followed by an urgent entreaty to identify the bodies on Monday.

  No, not Monday. I’d be in Melbourne.

  I stammered an excuse, without saying where I’d be. “Tomorrow, maybe?” I suggested.

  "We have a relative coming in at two, so maybe…at three? Would that be too late for you? It's probably best that you don't meet him, especially if you identify his son as one of the men who…"

  My money’s on Simon. The last remaining bastard. I swore to pack a knife. I’d stabbed him once and this time I’d make sure it was fatal. He’d feared me from the start and so he fucking should.

  My eyes darted to Nathan, silently asking him if he’d help me tie up this one last loose end. He nodded, as if he understood completely. A man who’d kill for me. Could anyone ask for more?

  I’d miss him in Melbourne – and every day if he chose to stay here instead of come with me. Could I blame him for choosing his career over me, a girl so damaged I didn’t know if I’d ever be right again?

  I held out hope, a
ll the same. Life had been cruel enough to me lately – maybe I did deserve to have a heart and some kindness, after all that had come my way.

  One more man to kill...and my bad luck would end.

  Part 82

  I checked the CD before I gave it to Detective McGuinness. He shot strange glances at Nathan, like he suspected more than either of us told him, but he didn’t say it outright. Then he pulled out pictures of the bastards – all of them taken in what I recognised as my house. I identified the pictures as best I could, but this was one time the perpetual darkness was far from my friend. I’d never seen some of their faces – Simon included. I knew their voices and hands in the dark, but dead men had neither voices nor sexual preferences.

  I looked long and hard at the police officer who’d shot Nathan, who he said had also shot at me. I hoped he was the son Simon had spoken of – and I hoped that Simon was here. I wondered if he was one of the people I’d seen earlier, but I hadn’t recognised any voices. I needed him to speak before I could kill him.

  When we headed out into the car park, I despaired of seeing him. Maybe Simon was hiding, far from my reach. I’d brought the knife for nothing and I’d never be safe.

  “Excuse me.”

  Two words that both froze me and made my day.

  I saw the gun pointed at Nathan – he aimed it too high for me to be his target – as he said, "You killed my son. Give me the girl."

  "I don't know what you're talking about…" Nathan protested.

  "I do.”

  I slipped the knife from its sheath in my sleeve, feeling the hard handle in my palm.

  He kept the gun aimed at Nathan as he repeated, "Give me the girl."

  “Let me do this,” I murmured to Nathan, hoping he’d pull out his weapon if I needed him to. I detached Nathan’s arm from mine with some difficulty and strode forward. It’s not the girl you’ll get, but what she wants to give you.

  "No, don't hurt her..." He sounded like Chris, all over again.

  The idiot kept his gun pointed at Nathan over my shoulder.

  "You killed my son," he whimpered.

  I had no sympathy for him. This bastard had almost killed me and so had his prick of a son.

  “No. Nathan killed him for me. And he’ll kill you, too, if you so much as look at me wrong. But I owe you something. Something I promised, if you ever touched me again.” I jabbed low and hard, putting my full weight behind the blow. I felt the blade sink deep into his groin. I yanked it out again. “Now, you dickless bastard, I can keep stabbing you until you die of your wounds or you can take the easy way out. You so much as touch me and Nathan will shoot you. For me.”

  I saw the fear in his eyes. Fear and pain. I almost felt pity, but then I remembered. He hadn’t even had the guts to see the same in my eyes as he raped me in the dark.

  I watched impassively as he stuck his gun in his own mouth and ended his misery.

  "Good riddance, Simon,” I spat. I turned to Nathan, more relieved than I could say. "Now it's over and I'm safe." I relaxed in his arms, before I realised what time it was. "I have to get to the airport, Nathan.”

  He looked from me to Simon’s body and back to me, stammering the start of several sentences but not finishing a single one.

  I didn’t have time for him to make an excuse, or explain to me what he’d hidden. Wishing I didn’t have to, I said gently, "You have friends to call, to clean this up. That's what they're good at, isn't it? Tell them you have the last one."

  I wanted to kiss the shocked look from his face and tell him everything, but I didn’t dare. When I got back from Melbourne – after Mott had made my offer. When maybe Nathan would agree to come with me."I need to get to the airport. May I borrow your car? I'll leave it at my house, with the keys on the table inside the front door. You know where I keep the spare house keys. You can get a lift with your colleagues, right?"

  He didn’t want to stay and deal with the mess. He wanted to come with me, but he couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe...my heart hoped.

  He gave me his keys and I remembered the CD I’d wrapped in the printout for him. On every page I hadn’t given to the police, I’d written as much, so he’d know what I had and hadn’t told anyone. I didn’t tell him about the copy I’d given to Mott – if it still existed. Crooked Mott might have destroyed it already.

  In the papers I’d told him how to meet me, too, if he wanted to see me again, one last time before I left for good. When he could tell me what his answer was to Mott’s offer.

  As I drove away, I couldn’t take my eyes off his reflection in my rear-view mirror. I wanted him to choose me.

  Part 83

  Our first morning in Melbourne, Jo told me, “I’m not sharing a room with you any more. You thrash around so much in your sleep...and you even screamed a couple of times. I’d rather share a room with Jason – and the last time I did that, I found another girl asleep in my bed one night. I’m sorry, but I just can’t.”

  I nodded silently. I understood. I didn’t know how Nathan had managed to stay in the same room as me when I had nightmares.

  “Will talking about it help?” she asked timidly. “Can you tell me anything about your ordeal?”

  I stared at my best friend. It’d never occurred to me to tell her about the horrors I’d seen – though I’d easily have told her anything before it. But I couldn’t burden her with the knowledge no one should have. Nor did she need to know I’d killed people. Nathan knowing was bad enough. “No, Jo. They hurt me and...you don’t want to know.”

  “Does Nathan know?” she demanded, snatching up the room keycard as we headed downstairs for breakfast.

  In the mirrored lift, it was hard to avoid her eyes. “Vague details of most of it, yes. There are some things I just can’t tell anybody.”

  I found her staring at me. “He really didn’t do it, did he? I mean, if he had, he’d know everything already...”

  “Jo,” I warned her.

  Her hands flew up in surrender. “Fine. Forgive me for maligning your sleazy boyfriend. Jason’s going to be heartbroken when he finds out you’re sleeping with Nathan instead of him. You know he’s had a crush on you since high school.”

  “Nathan’s not so sleazy. I haven’t...we haven’t...I can’t yet. One day, maybe...” I tried to keep my head down to hide my blush as we entered the hotel restaurant. Jo gave the waitress our room number and we followed her to a table.

  I walked around the breakfast buffet, avoiding her, but I loaded my plate up quickly and had to return to the table.

  “But you want to,” she said, lifting her cup of coffee to her lips.

  With my mouth full of strawberry yoghurt, I nodded emphatically.

  After breakfast, we asked the hotel and managed to upgrade our room into an apartment, though we paid for the privilege. As we headed to the first shop on Jo’s long list, she interrogated me on style.

  “Are you trying to match the look from the TV interview or are you going for the complete opposite? Do you want people to recognise you? What did you wear for the interview?” she demanded.

  I explained the minimal makeup and modest, mulberry-coloured dress I’d worn to the interview. “For the interview, they made me into a delicate little doll, someone to be rescued by a hero. If I’m trying to hide in plain sight, I need something completely different.”

  Jo laughed. “More realistic, you mean. If you’re a doll, you’re made of Kevlar.”

  I wished for my not-an-angel t-shirt that I’d worn the day they took me, but that was long gone. It did give me an idea, though. “Didn’t the newspaper articles describe me as an angel?”

  Jo snorted. “Yeah, the Absent Angel. Like you were just going to waltz back into life. Some really stupid journalist came up with that one.”

  I glanced around and there was no one within earshot. I still kept my voice low. “Did you know that all of my kidnappers have conveniently turned up dead?”

  Jo glanced at me. “That hasn’t made the news.”

&nbs
p; I gave a tight little smile. “No, nor will it. That’s confidential – something ASIO and the police are keeping quiet.”

  Now she didn’t look at me at all. “How do you know? Did you...?”

  “I’ve seen the bodies,” I replied honestly, my tone flat.

  “Well, I’d say the angel of death is really into you, too. Your Nathan had better watch out.”

  I laughed a little. “Consort to the angel of death, or the angel of death herself. Black’s a good colour for a musician – I say we go with it.”

  “Caitlin, the angel of death? I’m not going to be able to keep a straight face!”

  I shook my head slowly. “No. I’ll have a new name. I won't be able to use mine any more.” Hesitantly, I told her the new name I'd need to get used to.

  "That sounds familiar, though. Isn't that…another girl who was in the news last year? The one who died?” she asked, worried.

  “Spelled differently, but yes,” I admitted. “Shouldn’t the angel of death have the name of a dead girl?”

  Jo lost it laughing. “A reincarnated dead girl, consort to the angel of death. She’s going to have one hell of an afterlife. "

  "Starting with a live TV performance of her band's song," I replied.

  She laughed harder. "What if we hit it big? I mean, we won't…but we could! An afterlife as a rock star!"

  I summoned a smile. "There are worse things." I tried not to think about such things, though. Today was not a time to be sad, when the future seemed so bright.

  A new name and the prospect of a new life – new clothes seemed like very little in comparison. I hadn’t counted on Jo’s lust to replace my entire wardrobe, though.

  The second night, after I’d closed the door of my lonely room, I slipped the sheathed, cleaned knife from my bag to beneath my pillow. I slept with the light on and wished Nathan was beside me.

  The interview cheque had cleared, so I had more money than I was used to for clothes. I was glad we’d arranged extra luggage for the trip home – I had double my luggage allowance after three days of shopping. I hoped Jo would quit soon – I wanted to see more of Melbourne. I’d heard that they had a really good zoo, plus I wanted to practice for our Friday performance.