She remembered Hallie’s words from the other day. “Haven’t you ever run away from a problem?”
Natalie saw the small farm house, miles from anything in her mind. The pale green paint peeling from the timber having been years since it was last painted, the elements having wreaked havoc on the once pretty 1920s style house. Natalie saw herself as a seven-year-old, sitting before the vanity in her bedroom, her waist-length hair shimmering in the sunshine that peeked through the second storey window. She painted her lips with red lipstick and puckered them just as she had seen her mother do. The deep red clashed horribly with the pretty pink princess costume her aunt and uncle had given her for her birthday. It had come by post—addressed directly to her—and Natalie had felt very special to have gotten the delivery and she treasured the outfit above everything else she owned. The costume was the first thing that had been bought just for her and no one else had ever worn it. The rest of her clothes had come from the Salvation Army Store in town.
She had been in such a state of euphoria that she hadn’t been listening for his truck. When she heard the screen door slam shut as he entered the house, her smile faded rapidly. She jumped up from her seat and ran over to the door, locking the door before moving across the room to crouch behind the bed.
She shook in fear as she heard her mother’s voice yell, “Gary, no!” and then the tell-tale slap as his hand connected with her mother’s fleshy cheek.
Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs and she knew he was near when she heard the top step squeak when his weight sank and lifted on it.
God, no, please!
She looked over the mattress of her bed as she heard him bang on her door then try to turn the knob. His voice slurred from too many drinks as he continued to bang on her door.
“Natty, open up. Come on, baby, open up for Gary. Natty! Goddamn it, open the fucking door!”
Like hell, she thought. She might not be the smartest girl in the world but neither was she the dumbest. Natalie knew very well what lay beyond the door and she had no plans of experiencing it today or ever again.
Gary’s voice went hard with anger and he started shouldering the door. Natalie watched wide-eyed as the door shuddered each time Gary hit it. The old door wouldn’t be able to hold out for long. She prayed, knowing full well that there would be no answer from the almighty God, almost as if He had forgotten her. She tried to believe He was very busy and not just ignoring her. Her gaze fixed on the door, her eyes widening when it broke in two. He spotted her immediately. A hard look appeared on his angry and drunken face as he admonished her. “Natty.”
Tears rolled down her face unabashed as her gaze darted around the room, hoping that for once someone would stop him or she would find an escape. Her voice broke as she pleaded with him. “No, please, please!”
He made his way towards her. She tried to dart around him. Please God, please let me make it to the door, she continued to pray. He couldn’t chase her forever. He was old and drunk. He always fell asleep soon after he got home. He just had to tire himself out beating on her or her mother first. She saw the door to her room; it was closed and she could almost reach out and touch it. A feeling of relief went through her as she thought she was almost free. She screamed when his hand caught her wrist and dragged her out of the room and into the bathroom. Natalie struggled futilely against him, trying to kick out at him in hopes he would release her.
“Stop that,” he growled at her as he knocked her to the floor. “When I say for you to do something, you do it!” he screamed at her, spittle landing on her cheek. He hit her again, leaving a red mark on her face. Her bottom lip quivered and she nibbled on it as she waited for her punishment. Gary was always punishing her for things, even those that were not her fault or that she was unable to control.
She knew he didn’t need an excuse to hit her. Her being there was enough. He had never liked her and had only pretended to while he had courted her mother. After they’d been married all pretence had gone out the window and the real man had emerged. Natalie hadn’t been surprised. She had sensed something off about him, like most children sensed the evil in adults, and had warned her mother who had been less than thrilled to hear what her daughter thought of the one man in town who was interested in a widow with a daughter and no real prospects. Her mother had refused to look at her for an entire week and it wasn’t until she made Natalie promise to be a good obedient girl around Gary that she had showed her daughter any response whatsoever.
Natalie closed her mind against the horrid feel of Gary’s hands on her body as he pushed her against the old fashioned claw bath tub. Her own hands clutched at the porcelain side, her little fingers sliding against the cool white ledge. It was still full from her bath earlier. She had stupidly forgotten to empty it out once she was done and was now going to pay the price.
“I’m sorry. Please! I won’t do it again. I swear. Please!” she cried out. She knew there was no bargaining with him but she still tried. She also knew from experience no matter how loud she screamed her mother would never save her. No one would. She was alone with the monster of her nightmares, the very embodiment of the Devil, the Bogey Man and the Grinch in one. Even in her sleep she was never free of him.
Gary roughly pushed her head under the water and held it there as she struggled against him.
“Maybe now you’ll learn,” he told her, satisfaction in his voice.
She had been told from a young age that hate was a very strong emotion and that she should never hate anyone. But from the moment Gary had entered her life, she had downright hated him. Never before had she felt that way. She may dislike her mother but she didn’t hate her. She was just a weak, useless and selfish person—one who had never wanted a child. She had only had Natalie to make her father happy and if there was one person her mother had loved other than herself it was Natalie’s father.
Unlike her mother, Natalie’s father had loved her deeply, enough that she had never felt her mother’s lack of emotion at least not until he had died and she had realised just how much her mother despised her.
She flailed about in the water as she struggled not to breathe. If there was one thing to be said about Gary it was that he had a short attention span. Especially when he was drunk. He would soon tire of holding her head down and would proceed to the more physical.
Natalie’s mobile rang, jarring her out of her horrible memory. She resurfaced from under the water and took deep breaths in an effort to calm her pounding heart.
“Hello,” she greeted, her voice sounding alien even to her.
“Hey, babe, how’s it going?”
Natalie frowned. Derek. She really didn’t want to deal with him right now. She didn’t want to deal with anyone right now. Natalie rested her arm on the side of the bath and blinked away the last vestige of her dream. It had been some time since she had last dreamed about Gary and tonight it had knocked her on her arse. Hallie and the case were dredging up memories from her past best forgotten.
But they weren’t forgotten. They were only pushed back into the dark recesses of her mind. She doubted if she would ever really forget the horror she had been subjected to. Natalie wondered how she expected Hallie to make peace with the past when she, her psychologist, couldn’t seem to. Really she should try practicing what she preached sometime, she thought bitterly.
Her voice was still shaky as she spoke. “Fine.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.
Natalie could hear concern in his voice and wished she felt something other than friendship for him. He deserved better. She should’ve broken up with him a long time ago when she first knew nothing would ever develop between them.
“Yeah. Listen, Derek, there’s something I need to say,” she started, feeling like a heel but knowing it needed to be said.
“Okay, well, whatever you need to say you can say it when you see me. Your dress should be there soon.”
Natalie frowned, her mind trying to keep up with him. She had bee
n fully prepared to say the words that would end their relationship and here he was saying something that made no sense to her. She replayed the conversation over in her head and still came out confused.
“My dress?”
“Yeah, for the party tonight. You forgot, didn’t you?”
Had they talked about a party? She couldn’t remember. Obviously it hadn’t captured her attention long enough to file under ‘exciting upcoming events.’ She stepped out of the bath carefully and wrapped a towel around her, tucking the end between her breasts and yanked out the plug. She watched, satisfied as the water drained from the tub.
“No,” she lied. “Of course I haven’t forgotten.”
Derek made a resigned sigh. “Well, did you make other plans?”
She had plans to go to bed early, catch up on some sleep, but she knew Derek would fight her tooth and nail until he got what he wanted. Which unfortunately for her was her.
“No.”
“No drama then. I’ll pick you up at eight.”
Natalie looked at her sodden body in the vanity mirror. “Better make it a quarter past.”
“Quarter past, see you then. Love you, bye.”
She hung up without replying. Natalie didn’t want to lie to him and make matters worse. At least he couldn’t possibly read anything into her words or actions, never having given him anything to indicate she felt anything but friendship towards him. It should make their parting easier on him. She just had to get through this night first. At least it gave her a short reprieve where she could figure out exactly what she would say. She had been on the receiving end of a break-up a few times but never had the unfortunate task of delivering one.
Of course she had pushed them all away and had finally tired of her inability to trust and warm to them. Derek had been the only one that had seen her coolness towards him as some sort of challenge.
Natalie heard a knock at her door and trudged downstairs wondering how Derek would take her dismissal of him. Hopefully in the hours to come she could find a way that wouldn’t bruise his male ego. She opened the door only seconds before she remembered she was dressed only in a towel. Oh well, the young man before her didn’t seem to mind. She may have made his night by the look on his face. She flashed him a tentative smile and took the box from his hands before she shut the door on his still wide open mouth. Hopefully he was gone by the time she was ready. She didn’t want to trip on his tongue.
Natalie dressed in record time. The skin tight red dress hugged her curves and moulded itself to her breasts like a second skin. It wasn’t the type of dress she would have chosen herself. She disliked the kind of attention women tended to get while the clothes to skin ratio was unbalanced but decided to take a chance for once, finally listening to her own advice.
It took her a few minutes to track down a pair of red heels that would match her dress since they were buried in the back of the closet, long since forgotten. After she ran a cloth over them to get rid of the layer of dust coating them, she popped them on her feet.
She was readjusting the last strap on her shoes when she heard the knock at her door announcing Derek’s arrival.
Chapter 7
He watched her from his car. Her waist length blonde hair spilled over her shoulders as she moved the green bag of groceries from the trolley to the boot of her car. She was the very embodiment of everything he hated and his hands became fists wanting to beat her down here and now. He took a steadying breath and tried to calm himself. He would get nowhere if he let his emotions rule his body. He still had so much to do. The woman in front of him reminded him of so many others who had lost their lives at his hands and so would this woman, in good time.
He had learned to be patient, not to rush if he was to exceed. In his youth he had been foolish, almost losing it a couple of times, but in the end he had been the victor and the newspapers had even given him a name: The Butcher.
He liked it. It was better than any of the other names he had been given or taken over the years. He looked down at the cover of his Woman’s Weekly. There the blonde’s face was plastered as she smiled seductively at the cameraman, coiffed and teased to be the envy of every woman who read it and every man’s fantasy. It was a special edition. The nation’s businesswoman of the year title was being run and she had won.
He didn’t know her name. He didn’t care either. She wouldn’t be alive much longer for it to matter. When the timing was right she would meet her end and he would be there helping her move from life to death. He was a proficient killer and unlike others he had read about he didn’t keep souvenirs or records on how many he had killed. He had his memories and no one could take them away from him.
He watched as the nameless woman got into her car and reversed slowly out of the car park. He started his car too and followed her at a discreet distance. He knew her timetable now—could tell the time and day from her movements. He had, after all, been watching for her some time now.
He could have taken the blonde back there in the parking lot. She had been alone and at this time of night there was no one out shopping. He wouldn’t have been seen, but he liked the time he had with his victims. He didn’t like to be rushed and he didn’t want to be interrupted by someone who had just realised they were out of milk. No, best to wait. Relish the moment.
He drove past her as she pulled into her driveway. He knew she would be in for the night. A quick shower, a glass of wine and then if she wasn’t too tired, a few chapters of her latest paperback. He didn’t need to keep watch. He had done what he needed to do, his information correct and detailed. Besides, he had someplace to be tonight and slowed his car down for the corner. Another woman to watch. A woman who had a dark past of her own, much like his. He whispered her name into the dark confines of the car, almost a caress. Natalie.
Chapter 8
Matt had been told—and not so nicely—to go home and rest. Since he had practically moved into his desk at the start of the investigation, he had seen the sense in taking a break and coming in fresh and ready to work in the morning. He only hoped he would see something he had previously missed or somehow come up with a new avenue to investigate.
His body was far from relaxed. Beyond tired, he was standing on pure adrenaline and caffeine alone. He had been up for over fifteen hours and knew sleep was a long way off so he stopped in the gym for a heavy workout. His body protested the entire time, unused to the gruelling session he was pushing for.
He nodded to many of the officers he saw there, some he remembered from working on the street. The cops of Harbour Bay were a close lot, looking out for each other and their families. He looked over to the boxing ring and recognised Nick Doyle instructing a petite blonde. Although the woman looked like she couldn’t lift a feather she certainly packed a punch, attacking Nick over and over until she was soaked in sweat.
Matt watched with a small amount of satisfaction when the blonde knocked Nick off his feet and onto his arse. She then reached out her hand to help him back up. Nick graciously took her offer then moved into a fighting stance once more. The blonde considered her options.
Matt had been surprised when Nick had first started teaching his female co-workers martial arts, believing it to be some sort of ploy to get into their pants. Not that he needed any help in that department. Buffed and tanned, Nick could easily double as a Ralph Lauren model. But, as Matt soon discovered, besides being good-looking—a blend of blue eyes and black hair—Nick also genuinely cared about his female colleagues’ safety and coached over ninety percent of the female staff in self-defence. And it wasn’t just kickboxing or some fancy form of karate, it was full-blown street fighting with all the dirty trimmings.
Matt had soon learned Nick was the youngest of five and the only male. He might be the class clown but he took protecting the women around him seriously.
Matt continued to watch, amazed as the blonde deflected all of Nick’s attacks and he wasn’t pussy-footing about either. If one of those hits got their target she woul
d be bruised for a week, if not longer. Nick landed hard on his back again as the blonde tripped him up. He looked surprised as he went down, his breaths coming in hard and fast as he once again stood. He patted the woman on the back, his face showing he was very pleased she had knocked him down. Nick wasn’t the type to worry about his ego. He may be cocky and a constant joker but he wasn’t a sore loser and took crap as well as he gave it. He, like Darryl, got in and got the work done. None of them worked a case solo, neither did they take sole credit. If a case was closed, it was because of the collective powers of the LAC.
Because of their small unit, they all watched each other’s backs and weren’t competitive with one another, or at least not much. Nick looked up and noticed Matt watching them and gave him a wave. The blonde looked over her shoulder, interested at who Nick was waving at and smiled at him. Matt recognised her from the few times he had unfortunately been ordered to give a statement to Internal Affairs—the lower end of the police force according to most cops. No wonder she was looking to learn how to fight. She would need to be vigilant just walking in through the main door to the building. Her kind was not looked nicely upon and their presence never appreciated.
Her name was Kellie Munroe. A nice enough woman who not only knew her job and did it well but was smoking hot. Even though she looked like Policewoman Barbie she could be quite fierce if called upon. He had once witnessed her lose her cool and had been sufficiently awed. He watched intently as she bid Nick goodbye. Almost every male head in the gym turned to watch her leave and from what he could see, Kellie didn’t seem to notice the attention she got. She was confident enough in her abilities like Amelia Donovan, his fellow detective. She dressed femininely, nothing overly attention drawing. Not that she needed it, since her entire being screamed female, but enough that she was comfortable.
Not Forgotten Page 7
