by Diane Wood
“For some that would take too long,” Nat mumbled, challenging Alex to disagree.
Alex thought it likely that Nathalie was talking about herself, but she believed pushing the topic would cause the woman to stop talking completely. It was time to change the subject. Luckily the meal arrived, creating a natural break.
“So, do you enjoy your job?” Alex asked, studying the enigmatic woman opposite. “Was the police something you always wanted to do?”
“I’d love to claim it was my vocation,” she replied with an easy smile, “but I joined because I found law boring and then ended up as a police prosecutor anyway.”
“What would you like to do?”
“Detective…my ex, Josh, works in the Serious Crimes Squad and I’m envious.” Nathalie found Alex’s company pleasant and stimulating. She was forthright, but there was a warmth and kindness about her that made you feel important. The two women talked easily, and it was only when the waiter brought the bill that Nathalie realized they’d been there for over two hours.
“Will you be at the center on Friday?” Alex asked as they walked back to their cars.
“Unless something drastic happens,” Nat answered casually, climbing into the sleek red Toyota. “I’ll see you there.”
Once again, Alex wondered about Nathalie’s sexuality. She’d made a point of mentioning the ex-boyfriend, yet she couldn’t picture this woman with a guy. She was attracted, but it felt like a betrayal of Lou. Perhaps it was just as well that she’d only see Nathalie Duncan at the center.
* * *
On Friday morning Nathalie phoned George from work. Mother was away on business and wouldn’t return until the following week. It seemed strange talking to him after all the years of only sporadic conversation, but Nathalie acknowledged that, as twisted as the family dynamics were, she still loved and felt protective of the brother of their childhood.
Although George was older, Nathalie had always been stronger. It was George who wet the bed and cried himself to sleep. And when he was a teenager, George’s fear of upsetting Mother was so extreme that Nathalie often thought he would literally jump off a cliff if she demanded it. Not that she was much better. Last weekend had proven that, but at least she’d managed to distance herself a little.
“How long is Mother staying?” Nathalie asked, hoping this was only a short visit.
“As long as she wants, I guess,” he answered flatly. “You know Mother. She’s not likely to let me know her plans.”
“So how do you really feel about moving to the States?”
For a moment there was silence and Nathalie thought he wasn’t going to answer.
“I have no choice, I have to go, so it doesn’t matter how I feel.”
“We need to talk…and I’d love to see Jeremy and meet Samantha.”
“We have no plans for Saturday. Sam will be there.”
“That’d be great. But I won’t…it won’t be…”
“I know,” he said dully. “It’s okay. But I have missed you…not the other stuff...I mean…you know…just you caring about me, I guess.”
After she got off the phone a sense of excitement gripped her. Could she talk George into refusing to go to America—breaking with Mother? Would it be possible for the two of them to become friends, like a normal adult brother and sister? She wanted so badly to know that those children would not grow up the way they did, and deep down Nathalie believed that George wanted that too.
* * *
Bella had been in a bad mood for days. Jackie had been working overtime and Bella hated being on her own. “I only put up with the stupid girl because I want the company,” she told Nathalie, only half-joking. “And now she’s hardly ever there for me.”
“Have you ever thought that if you were a bit nicer to Jack, she might stick around more?” asked Nat with a raised eyebrow.
“So now you’re an expert on lesbian relationships, are you?” snapped Bella. “Funny, but you’re the one without a partner.”
Used to Bella’s aggressive personality, Nathalie just shrugged. “Hey, you started this conversation,” she reminded the woman. “My attitude is that relationships are all about sex and pretense and you’re not too good at the pretense.”
“Pretty cynical, Duncan,” she said, wagging a finger in her face.
“Are you telling me you’re happy in this relationship?”
“No, Nat, but someone like me has to make do, and it’s still better than you’ve got.”
“On that we’ll have to disagree,” Nathalie said with a shake of her head. “So how the hell did you ever get together anyway?” Finally, she asked the question she’d wondered about for ages.
“Lesbian club—a pick-up actually. I’d just been dumped and was feeling low. Jack was new to the scene and made a play for me. My ego needed a boost, so I went along with it. And she is very good in bed, by the way…very good.” Sighing she said, “One night turned into two, then three and so on. Maybe it’s just a habit that suits us both.”
“It sounds charming!”
“It’s what you do when you’re lonely and not one of God’s beautiful creatures,” she said aggressively. “You settle for what’s on offer because the ones you want don’t want you. Not that your type would understand that, would you? Your type would be the one doing the impressing, stealing the ugly girl’s boyfriend…or in my case, girlfriend.”
“My type…?” Ice dripped from the words and Nathalie’s eyes flashed.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” Bella said, realizing she’d gone too far. “I’m just taking my resentment out on you because I think Jackie might be clubbing it and seeing someone else. It’s not even that I care that much, but my ego does. And, well…I know that if I looked like you, I wouldn’t have these problems.”
Staff returned from court then, so the conversation ended. Afterward Nathalie thought about Bella’s words. She’d only ever had two relationships, both very short-term. One was Christine Martin, who in the early days had lit a spark that had added a whole dimension to her life beyond the sex. The other was Josh Dawson.
Christine had been part of the life she told herself she had no control over, but there wasn’t that excuse with Josh. He’d been mentally stimulating and had loved her openly and honestly. Yet it still hadn’t worked beyond a sexual friendship. The thought depressed her.
It rained all day and the courts were busy. Bella’s mood improved, but Nathalie didn’t ask for an update on her relationship. One deep and meaningful conversation with Bella was enough for the week.
That evening she went home and, changing quickly, grabbed a piece of toast and some documents before heading to the center. Two women were waiting to see her and the next hour was spent offering advice on child maintenance and the rights of a foster parent.
Later, in the kitchen, she boiled the ancient jug and poured a large, strong coffee.
“Yes, please,” said a voice from the doorway. “White, two sugars, and in return you can share my soggy sandwiches.”
Alex was soaked through and clutching a dripping umbrella, but it didn’t seem to dampen the warmth and good humor that shone from her sparkling green eyes. Nathalie felt herself warm.
“I must say, you really seem to have a thing about sandwiches.” She laughed as Alex pulled out a squashed, clear plastic bag from her briefcase.
“When you’ve got sandwiches, you can survive anything,” Alex replied with a wink. “Even this weather.”
Placing the coffees on the table and sitting opposite, Nathalie watched as Alex peeled off her wet sweater and placed it on the back of the chair. The movement caused Alex to stretch upward and, unconsciously, Nathalie found herself admiring the lush contours of the woman’s body.
Catching Nathalie watching, Alex smiled inwardly. But Nat’s expression was blank and an immediate surge of disappointment brought her back to reality. Opening the plastic package and taking a seat, she pushed it across the table. “Please,” she said indicating the neatly sl
iced sandwiches. “Cheese and pickles and cheese and ham. You can’t let me dine alone; it’ll ruin my reputation.”
The sandwich reminded Nat of how hungry she was. Normally she’d have made something before coming to the center, but for some reason tonight she’d been keen to get here.
“So how was the rest of your week?” asked Alex, finishing the last of her sandwich. “No, don’t tell me,” she said before Nat could speak. “I’ve got a young woman waiting so I’d better make myself available before she gives up. But how about we meet here when we’ve both finished?” Already she was rising, ready to leave the room.
Nat just nodded. Why not? She wasn’t in a rush and she enjoyed Alex’s company. Besides it was only good manners to find out how the woman’s first day went.
After attending a drop-in appointment, Nat made her way to the recreation area. There were about seven or eight women milling around, some talking to Rena about medical problems, their own or their children’s, others sharing coffee and biscuits. After joining them briefly and doing some paperwork, she returned to the meal room.
It was nearly eight thirty before Alex emerged with a tearful young woman sporting a wide array of body piercings.
“You know, it’s been a long day and I feel like a good stiff drink,” Alex stated after returning from walking the girl to the door. “I don’t suppose you’d like to join me?”
Nat hesitated before quietly replying, “Sounds good.”
“Then let’s make it my place,” Alex suggested. “I’ve got a fully stocked bar, and you said when we first met that you lived quite close, so you won’t have far to go afterward.”
While Nathalie followed her home, Alex questioned the wisdom of her actions. Nathalie Duncan was supposed to be someone she saw at the center for a couple of hours a week. But it was too late now. She could hardly stop the car and tell her she’d changed her mind.
The rain was still pouring when she pulled into her garage and ran to the front door. Nat had parked beside the curb and was obviously contemplating the run from her car to the safety of the house. Or could it be she was contemplating the folly of going for a drink with a raving dyke? The thought brought a smile to Alex’s face as she turned and waved Nathalie toward the house.
The home was warm and welcoming and Nat couldn’t remember why she was initially going to turn down this woman’s invitation. They spoke about the center, then gradually moved to more general subjects until eventually Nathalie asked, “Did you live here with your partner before she died?”
The question surprised Alex. Most people avoided the subject. “For the last three years,” she answered thoughtfully. “Before that we lived in London. Lou was a doctor. We actually met over there.”
“How long were you together?”
“Ten years,” she replied, swallowing the force of her emotions.
“I can’t imagine being in a relationship that long, let alone losing them after all that time. The hole left behind must be devastating.”
Alex knew there was no expectation of an answer.
For a few moments they concentrated on their drinks, listening to Tracy Chapman singing about paper and ink. It was a comfortable silence and neither felt the need to talk.
“Are you in a relationship, Nathalie?” Alex asked eventually.
“No. I’m not good at relationships.”
It was a light-hearted reply, but the shadow that clouded her eyes made Alex want to kiss the hurt away. “Have you ever been in love?”
This time Nathalie looked down at her drink as if the answer lay somewhere in the dark liquid. “I don’t really think I understand the concept,” she replied quietly. “It seems like love’s just a word people use for all occasions.” Then, as she looked up, “There was someone once, a really long time ago—a girl, actually. We were very young, but I really liked being with her. It felt good. I don’t know if that was love, but she chose somebody else. So you move on.”
Again there was silence.
“And of course there was Josh. I really did like him. He was good company and he’s an intelligent, gentle man. But I don’t know that I ever loved him,” she admitted. “I wanted someone to care about. We lasted six months, but in the end I wore him down. Fortunately, we stayed friends. As I think I told you, he’s also in the police.”
“What do you mean you wore him down?”
“It’s complicated.” Nat shrugged, obviously not willing to discuss it.
As much as the psychologist in her wanted to pursue it, Alex knew this woman would only share so much, so she changed direction.
“Do you class yourself as bisexual?” Alex asked curiously, rising to pour more drinks and change the CD.
“I hadn’t thought about it. But I didn’t cope with the emotional demands of being in a relationship with Josh, and I can only imagine it would be worse with a woman. Besides, a woman would never put up with me.” She’d said too much, Nat decided. Somehow Alex Messner made her want to talk—to share. But she couldn’t do that or she risked being found out. “I have to go,” she said, rising and taking Alex by surprise. “It’s getting late.”
Regretting her curiosity, Alex accepted that the evening had run its course, but she couldn’t let it go. “I was wondering if you’d like to take in a movie or something on the weekend,” she asked, trying to make it sound casual.
“Thanks, but I have plans.” The reply was curt and halted further conversation.
It was obvious Alex was hurt by her dismissive attitude, but Nat knew it was how it had to be. Alex Messner was still grieving and vulnerable and would only end up hurt. Thanking her for the drink, Nathalie made her way to the front door. It had stopped raining.
“I don’t apologize for asking you out, you know,” Alex said as she reached in front of Nathalie to unlock the door. “And I’ll probably do it again sometime, but apart from the fact that I want to get to know you better, I can still be a friend.” Pulling the door open, she stood aside, her kind eyes serious and understanding.
“Believe me, Alex,” Nathalie whispered as she climbed into her car. “You don’t want to get to know me better.”
* * *
That night when the hands grabbed at her in her sleep, when the man forced his tongue into her mouth and tore into her, when the pain and anger made her want to die, she heard a different voice.
Both mothers were there as usual and they both turned toward this voice. Still he was on her, but he couldn’t drown out the voice. And it brought comfort. It was a familiar voice, but the words were indecipherable. The good mother, her face a picture of misery, reached toward the voice. But the bad mother turned back to Nathalie and, with hatred in her eyes, whispered threatening words, forcing her lips where the man’s had been, her tongue where his had been. Nathalie was spinning out of control as the good mother lowered her eyes and walked away and the kind voice faded and disappeared. Now she was alone with the stifling presence of Mother and the man and a crushing inability to breathe properly.
Struggling and sobbing, she woke—that familiar overwhelming sense of loss filling her with despair. Gasping, Nathalie scrambled backward until her back was wedged against the wall, the bedclothes held close in defense, her head and body soaked in perspiration. “Oh God…Oh God,” she cried, reaching out to throw on the light. “I can’t do this anymore. Please, God, no more.”
As the room grew brighter and her breathing evened out, Nathalie felt the pain of her nightmare—as if it had actually just happened—and she doubled over on the bed, tears coursing down her face. It was another minute or two before the horror ended and she was able to sit up properly.
Once again she walked through the house, turning on every light, pushing the button on the stereo to bring up loud pop music, anything to push those images away. It was four a.m. and the couch became her bed for what was left of the night.
Chapter Five
Dead Dykes
Peering from the doorway, Josh noted the two women lying naked and motion
less on the bed, their bodies entwined in one last embrace. A dark stain had spread onto the pillowcase nearest him and sunlight was peeping through a crack in the curtains illuminating the scene and adding an eerie quality. Unconsciously he let out a sigh.
“Bloody dykes,” grumbled Nigel beside him, nodding toward the bed.
Wincing, Josh moved inside the room, careful not to disturb anything. Once again he reminded himself that it was time to apply for another partner. Dismissing his animosity, he concentrated on the scene in front of him. Thanks to Josh’s court appearance, Nigel had gotten here nearly an hour earlier. Josh hated it when he hadn’t controlled a crime scene from the start. “I wonder if there’s any connection between this and the woman killed near the lesbian club a week or so ago,” he mentioned thoughtfully, pulling on his latex gloves. “That was a shooting.”
“Jesus, Josh,” responded Nigel sourly. “Just because all the victims were dykes doesn’t mean they’re connected.”
Ignoring him, Josh stepped closer to the bed.
One woman looked to be in her midthirties, the other somewhat younger. Each had a single bullet wound to the side of the head. Even in death the older one seemed to be trying to protect her friend, her arm draped protectively around her lover’s shoulder. They looked at peace to Josh, as if death had taken them in the middle of a pleasant dream. No sign of a struggle, no sign that either of them had any inkling it was their last moments on earth.
“Not bad,” murmured Nigel, staring at the women, “I wouldn’t have minded a taste of the younger one myself.”
“Show some respect,” snapped Josh irritably. “And concentrate on the job.”
“Yes, sir, Sergeant Dawson,” he growled sarcastically. “I’ll check the rest of the house.”
Returning his attention to the room, Josh noted that the women’s clothing was nowhere in sight, but two sets of nightwear had been dropped messily onto either side of the bed, indicating the possibility that the women had stripped hurriedly, perhaps before or during lovemaking. The remains of a joint littered the otherwise clean ashtray and an iPod was switched on in the dock. Incongruously, even with the two murdered women still lying in their bed, the room had a peaceful feel to it, and it occurred to Josh that prior to the murder this had been a happy household.
