by Ava McCarthy
‘I tuned him out, most of the time. But now I want to know more.’
Novak shook his head. ‘No, you don’t. Believe me, Jodie, you don’t want to go there.’
‘It’s part of your story, isn’t it?’
‘Maybe, maybe not. It’s tough for people to read shit like that. Disturbing as hell.’
‘But you know about it, don’t you?’
He hesitated. ‘I looked into it.’
‘So tell me.’
‘Jesus, Jodie.’
She fixed him with a stare. ‘I need to know.’
Novak’s expression looked pained. He took a moment, rasping a hand over his face. Outside, the wind was picking up, spattering pellets of ice against the car like buckshot. Eventually, Novak said,
‘It’s a criminologist’s term—’
‘For fathers who kill their children. Yes, I know.’ Jodie looked straight ahead. ‘Is it just fathers?’
‘Mostly, yeah. It’s rarely the mothers.’ He went silent for a moment, coaxing the car out of another skid, probably using the opportunity to stall a little.
‘Go on,’ Jodie said.
‘The cases I read about … Jesus.’ His knuckles whitened on the wheel. ‘I can’t talk about those, I really can’t. How any father can look at his own child’s face and then just …’ He shook his head, swallowed hard.
Jodie closed her eyes. Heard Ethan’s voice.
‘She didn’t wake up once … it was all over.’
Jodie’s blood vessels turned icy. She went still, letting the coldness seep back in. They sat in silence for a moment. Then Jodie said,
‘Why do they do it?’
Novak flicked her a look, shifted in his seat. ‘They say there’s two types. There’s the so-called altruistic killers. You know, they leave bullshit notes about how they’re sparing their children pain and taking them off to a better place.’
‘And the others?’
He hesitated. ‘They’re much more common. They’re the revenge killers. The trigger is usually the breakup of the marriage.’
He slid her a glance as though to check how she was taking it. She tried to keep her face composed. She must have pulled it off, for he went on.
‘The children become pawns, a way of punishing the wife for leaving. Murdering them will cause her maximum pain, so that’s what he does. Nothing altruistic about the notes those fuckers leave. Spite, pure and simple.’ His fingers tightened on the wheel. ‘One guy put his children’s bodies in his wife’s car, then texted her saying he’d left her a present. Sick, twisted bastard.’
Jodie inhaled a sharp breath, for a moment feeling the other woman’s pain as well as her own. Her head felt dizzy. She managed a whisper.
‘These men are not sane.’
‘That’s what we want to believe, right? We want to believe they’re psychotic, mentally ill. They must have snapped, lost their mind. Makes it easier for us to bear, I guess. I mean, Jesus, who wants to believe a sane man could murder his own children?’
Novak paused, shook his head, then continued.
‘But it doesn’t happen in a fit of rage. These are methodical, pre-meditated murders, committed by rational, loving fathers. These guys are as sane as you and me.’
Jodie whispered, ‘Ethan was so proud when Abby was born. He loved her so much.’
‘All these fathers do. It’s the typical profile: loving father, devoted family man, good provider. They’re not drinkers, they’re not drug addicts, no criminal record. But underneath, they’re controlling and possessive as hell.’
Jodie felt her jaw clench. ‘Ethan certainly fits the profile.’
Novak shot her a quick look. ‘You think so?’
‘Revenge? Control? Of course. Don’t you?’
Novak turned away. ‘Hey, I’m no expert, what do I know.’
Jodie opened her mouth to pursue it but he switched tack.
‘These aren’t just isolated cases, either, it happens a lot more than people think. Fact is, if you leave your husband, your children are more likely to be killed by him than by a stranger.’
Jodie closed her eyes briefly. Jesus Christ. How many more women like her were out there? Then she shook her head.
‘That doesn’t seem possible.’
‘We don’t hear about it much, media coverage tends to be low. People can’t bear to think about it, for a start. And plus, no one can ever prove what really happened.’ He paused. ‘These cases almost never get to court.’
‘How come?’
‘Because the father usually kills himself as well. These are murder-suicides, Jodie. It’s rare for the guy to stick around afterwards.’ He flicked his eyes between her and the road. ‘But Ethan didn’t kill himself, did he?’
Jodie frowned. ‘What’s your point?’
‘I’m just saying he doesn’t fit the profile, that’s all. Something’s off.’
‘Meaning what?’
Novak looked away from her. Then he opened his mouth to speak. Closed it again.
‘Come on, Novak, spit it out.’
He shook his head. ‘It’s nothing.’
‘Look, you told me you believed that he was a monster.’
‘I do. He is.’
‘He’s a monster, just like these others.’ She fought a catch in her throat. ‘He boasted about what he’d done, for God’s sake.’
Jodie clamped her mouth shut, her mind lurching back to that day before the fireworks. Her gut swirled with nausea. When she could trust her voice, she said,
‘I’d packed a bag. Told him I was leaving, going ahead with the divorce. Abby was gone, there was nothing left to stay for. He raged at me, went on and on, just wouldn’t stop. But I told him he didn’t have the power to hurt me any more.’ She swallowed, shook her head. ‘Big mistake.’
She flashed on Ethan’s face: the eyes wild with impotent rage; the split-second shift to something more cunning. She suppressed a shudder.
‘That’s when he told me. No remorse. No pain. He took pleasure in telling me what he’d done.’
‘Jesus.’ Novak stared at the windscreen, now caked with snow.
She felt her jaw set. ‘He killed my Abby to exact revenge on me. Well, now it’s my turn.’
He cut her a sharp look. ‘Your turn for what?’
She glanced away, tight-lipped.
‘Jodie? Your turn for what? Revenge? Is that what you’re saying?’
‘No.’ She fixed her gaze on the swirling flurries outside. ‘I don’t know.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean? Look, this is going down the way we said, okay? We find Ethan to prove he’s still alive. We prove you didn’t kill him, your conviction gets overturned. That’s what we said, right?’
When Jodie didn’t answer, he barged on.
‘Look at me, Jodie. Tell me that’s what you’re going to do.’
She nodded and tried to meet his eyes. But her gaze slid away. Novak thumped the wheel with his fist.
‘Goddamnit!’
He slammed on the brakes. The car scrunched into the snow, skidded to a halt. Jodie’s seatbelt yanked her backwards, the map slid to the floor. She turned wide eyes to Novak. He’d twisted around in his seat to face her. The green-grey irises were almost black.
‘Don’t bullshit me, Jodie. You think I don’t know what you’re planning to do? I’ve known it from the start.’
She shook her head, but he cut across her.
‘You think I don’t know about the gun in your bag?’
She stared. Couldn’t answer.
‘Jesus, Jodie, I don’t believe this. You’re going to make the same mistake all over again?’
She folded her arms tight across her chest. ‘There’ll be no mistake.’
‘What are you going to do, just walk up to Ethan and pull the trigger?’
‘I’ve done it before.’
‘Are you crazy? They’ll dump you in prison until you rot. Is that what you want?’
‘That’s not how it’ll be.’
/>
‘You can’t do it!’
‘Why not? Think of the story it’ll make.’
She regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. Novak’s eyes flared.
‘You think that’s all I care about now?’
‘Look, I didn’t mean—’
‘Listen to me!’ He grabbed her by the arms, pulled her round to face him. ‘You’ve got a chance here. A chance at a life. You want to throw that all away?’
Something inside her turned rigid. Hard and inflexible. ‘You don’t get it.’
‘I won’t let you kill him.’
‘It’s none of your business.’
‘You think he’s just going to stand there and let you shoot him?’
‘Novak—’
‘What if something goes wrong? What if he kills you first?’
‘I don’t care!’ She glared at Novak. ‘Don’t you get that yet? It doesn’t matter what happens to me. Ethan is a monster, you know he is. A monster that needs to be slayed.’
‘And you have to be the one to do it?’
She locked eyes with his, searched deep. ‘Tell me, Novak. What if it was your little boy he’d killed? What if it was Toby?’ She sensed him flinch, pushed on regardless. ‘Think about it. What would you do then?’
His eyes stayed fixed to hers, slowly losing focus as his gaze turned inwards, examining some cruel, interior landscape. His expression grew bleak, and instantly Jodie regretted inviting him to try on the pain. But she’d had no choice.
‘Ethan killed my little girl and now he’s going to pay for it.’
Novak refocused. He fixed her with a long, hard look. ‘I won’t let you do it.’
Jodie shook her head, heard the sadness in her own voice as she whispered,
‘You can’t stop me.’
25
The Marshall Lake Treatment Facility was located far outside the town, pocketed among colonies of looming redwoods made white and ghostly by the snow. Jodie eyed the building, a jarring stucco-and-glass-block design, and wondered what the hell she’d say when she got inside.
Novak parked near the entrance. They hadn’t spoken for the last few miles, the silence erected like a barricade between them. He glanced up at the building.
‘We could show them Ethan’s photo,’ he said. ‘See if they recognize him.’
‘And flash your expired press card?’ Jodie shook her head. ‘This isn’t some laid-back bar, Novak. That’s not going to work in a place like this.’
Her tone had more bite than she’d intended, but something had shifted between them, setting them at odds. No longer fully on the same side.
She wrenched the car door open. Wind and snow lashed at her face, and she hunched against it, ducking out into near-blizzard conditions. She pushed through the glass double doors, aware of Novak following close behind.
Inside, the warm air made Jodie’s skin tingle. She paused to stamp the snow off her boots, stalling just long enough to take in her surroundings: spacious reception area, furnished in cream; empty, except for the girl at the desk.
The receptionist glanced up, the enquiry already forming on her face: What do you want? Jodie made her way towards her, scrambling for an answer in the few strides she had left.
She reached the desk, got a reprieve while the receptionist answered the phone. The girl was probably in her mid-twenties, short brown hair framing a discontented face, pug-like features clustered close together. Her white coat had a nametag that read Samantha Hynes.
Samantha banged down the handset, turned back to Jodie. ‘Can I help you?’ Then she frowned, her focus suddenly sharpened. ‘Hey, wait a second.’
Jodie went still. The girl squinted at her face. Stared hard.
Shit. Had she recognized her from some news bulletin on TV? Jodie darted a glance at Novak, who looked ready to edge away. Then Samantha clicked her fingers and pointed.
‘Got it.’ She sat back, her expression smug. ‘Let me guess, you’re here to see Lily Rosen. Am I right?’
Jodie stared. Beside her, she sensed Novak’s sudden alertness, and she groped for the right response.
‘That’s right, I’m Lily’s niece.’ Jodie’s heartbeat felt fluttery. Her father’s sister. Lily was here? ‘How did you know?’
‘The eyes, mostly.’ Samantha squinted some more. ‘It’s not an obvious likeness, I can see why you wouldn’t realize. Especially being family. Too close to it, I guess.’
Novak stirred beside Jodie, and she felt his curious glance. He leaned a casual elbow on the desk.
‘They say outsiders can often see these things better,’ he said.
Samantha shrugged. ‘Maybe. People always say I look just like my older sister, but personally I can never see it.’ The discontent flitted back over her face, some sibling rivalry evidently souring her mood. Jodie cut back in, trying to salvage the chatty tone.
‘So you think I look like Lily?’
‘Oh no, you’re nothing like her. No, it’s her mother you remind me of. Mrs Rosen.’ Samantha snorted. ‘Not now, of course, she’s ancient now. But I’ve seen photos of her when she was young, about your age.’ She gave Jodie another long look. ‘You can see a likeness. Comes and goes, if you know what I mean.’
Jodie stared. Mrs Rosen. So she looked like her grandmother, Celine. Old Mrs Blane in North Dakota had said it too. Somehow, the corroboration made it real, and the knowledge of it almost physically clicked into place. Missing pieces snapping together. Finally, Jodie knew she looked like someone.
The desk phone rang. Samantha flashed it an irritated look, then dealt with the call in snippy tones. When she’d finished, Novak said,
‘Does Lily get many visitors?’
Samantha shook her head. ‘Just her mother, no one else.’ She looked back at Jodie. ‘If you’re her niece, that makes you Peter Rosen’s daughter, right?’
Jodie nodded, puzzled by the girl’s knowledge of her family tree. Samantha went on.
‘Lily told us about you. Though I thought you’d be younger, but then she gets confused at times.’
Jodie took a moment to process the information. So the Rosens had known about her? Yet they’d never made contact. Just like her mother’s family.
Novak leaned in closer over the desk. ‘You seem to know a lot about the Rosens.’
‘Don’t look so surprised.’ Samantha drew herself up, casting a disdainful look at her surroundings. ‘Despite appearances, I’m an intern, not a receptionist. I’m training to be a mental health counsellor, and I sit in on most of Lily’s sessions.’
Jodie’s eyebrows shot up. She tried to picture Samantha dispensing sympathy and guidance, but the image wouldn’t come. The phone rang again, but Samantha ignored it. She waved a dismissive hand around the empty reception.
‘Look at this place.’ The pug features grew pouty. ‘I’m supposed to be getting supervised clinical experience, but I don’t see much supervision going on here today. I’m the only one who bothered to slog in through this crazy snow, and now they expect me to cover for everyone. For intern, read dogsbody.’
Jodie murmured in sympathy, and after a tactful pause added, ‘Do you think I could see my Aunt Lily?’
Samantha shot her a look. ‘That’s what I’m trying to decide. She only ever sees her mother. Is she expecting you?’
‘No, but I’ll only stay a minute.’
‘You haven’t cleared this with Dr Bauer?’
Jodie was tempted by the lie, but it was too easy for the girl to disprove. ‘Frankly, I didn’t think it was necessary. I am family, after all.’
‘I’d really need to check this with my supervisor.’
‘I thought you were in charge here today.’
‘Yeah, right, like we both believe that’s true.’
The phone was still ringing, and Samantha flung it a look of loathing. She chewed her lip, tapped a pencil on the desk. Then she lifted her chin.
‘To hell with it. If you ask me, another visitor will do Lily good.’
/>
She checked her watch, then got to her feet, beckoning them down a hallway and talking over her shoulder as she went.
‘Lily gets worse after her mother’s been in to see her sometimes. Only to be expected, given the circumstances, but maybe a new face will help.’
Given the circumstances. Jodie curbed the urge to quiz her more, afraid to draw attention to her ignorance of Lily’s situation. Samantha flung her a quick look.
‘I’ll supervise the visit, if you don’t mind.’ Then as if reading Jodie’s thoughts, she added, ‘How much do you know about Lily’s condition?’
‘Only a little.’
‘Well, you’ve caught her on a good day. She slept through the night last night, first time in a while.’
Samantha rounded a corner and headed for a door marked Art Therapy – Studio 4.
‘Her art class finished fifteen minutes ago, but she always stays long after the others have gone.’ She paused, her hand on the door knob. ‘Wait here please.’
She disappeared inside the room, leaving the door open a crack. Jodie peered in, but her view was obstructed. She leaned in to listen, and when Samantha spoke, Jodie almost didn’t recognize her voice.
‘Hey, Lily, you still painting?’ Her tone had softened, mellowed by a surprising note of kindness. ‘There’s someone here to see you.’
There was a pause, then the sound of a pencil clattering to the floor.
‘Come on now, Lily, don’t give me that face. It’s not your mother this time.’ A chair scraped along tiled flooring. ‘Mind if I sit with you a minute?’
Jodie closed her eyes briefly, trying to picture Samantha and Lily side by side. A profound, biological curiosity stirred through her. What was Lily like? And what had happened to her that she’d ended up in a place like this?
‘Peter’s daughter is here, she wants to visit.’ Samantha’s voice was gentle. She paused, then added, ‘Would that be okay?’
Jodie strained to hear more. Could only make out murmurs. Finally the room was silent altogether. She flashed a questioning look at Novak, who made a helpless face and shrugged.
