The Fortune Teller's Daughter

by Diane Wood

  Then she remembered George’s description of the beatings Mother had administered. It explained why she had always felt Mother’s dislike. But why would she forget that and remember the other stuff—the parties and the men? It made no sense.

  In the end, she concluded that there was no explanation. That it was like everything else in her life—random, painful and unchangeable. It would pass. Mother would have her tantrum, she might even punish her, but afterward things would return to normal. She had to believe that.

  It took her a long time to go to sleep, but once there she slept the night through. And that only created another puzzle. If the nightmares were caused by the past, then why did they come and go? Surely today’s confrontation with George should have triggered one? But feeling happy and satisfied and content with Alex the previous night had. At least now she knew why she hadn’t chosen psychology as her profession. How could anyone be expected to understand the sort of mess she carried in her head?

  * * *

  Nathalie arrived early for work in the morning and found Josh alone in the huge office they’d been allocated for the task force. Giving her a quick peck on the cheek, he said, “That’s for taking the transfer and because it will be strictly business from now on. As far as I know, nobody knows that you and I used to live together, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

  “Of course,” she replied with a smile.

  “As soon as the others arrive I’ll do the introductions and a briefing, but you already know the basics of the second killing. We still haven’t found anything connecting the two, but we’ll start today by collating what the two teams have got so far. Then if we still have nothing, we’ll have to proceed by investigating them as separate crimes while sharing whatever the day’s work has turned up.”

  While they waited for everyone to arrive, Nathalie began looking around the room. Several huge whiteboards had been set up, and numerous pin boards displayed photos of the two crime scenes, including photos of the dead women and everything that was known about each victim. Reading this information took her about twenty minutes, by which time people had begun to arrive and stand around.

  Josh started with the introductions. There would be eight on the task force including himself and one civilian analyst. Each person gave his or her name, experience and where they’d come from. Other than the analyst and herself, everyone was an experienced detective, and all had met before. There was only one other woman in the group.

  Lorna was about forty, chubby and bespectacled, but she had an air of authority that eighteen years in the force had given her and she was bright and articulate and friendly.

  As they worked through the information they already had, they took it in turns trying to find connections between the dead women, their relationships, jobs, social lives, hobbies and deaths, but by lunchtime they were no further forward.

  During the lunch break, Nathalie used Josh’s office to ring Alex at work. She’d been thinking of her constantly and worried that perhaps, now that she’d had time to think, Alex wouldn’t want them to continue. Perhaps the violence of the nightmare had scared her off.

  The way Alex answered the phone made it obvious she was glad to hear from her, flooding Nathalie with unexpected relief. They spoke for nearly ten minutes, light, happy banter, before confirming arrangements for dinner at Alex’s. “I’m missing you. Stay safe,” Alex told her before hanging up.

  “Me too,” she answered softly, dropping the phone into the cradle.

  “Me too, what?” asked Josh’s familiar voice from the half-open doorway. “Me too I love you? Or me too for Chinese food?”

  “Or me too for privacy,” she responded irritably.

  “My office,” he replied with a shrug, looking around him. “So who is he? Do I know him?”

  She didn’t really know what to say. He knew she’d slept with women in the past, but she wasn’t quite ready to share Alex with him yet. “No, you don’t,” she replied with a smile. “But I’m sure you will if it gets off the ground. In the meantime, it’s none of your business.”

  At the end of the day, Nathalie felt tired but stimulated. Their hard work hadn’t turned up any significant leads, other than it was possible that all three women had frequented the same lesbian club at times, but whether they’d ever met each other would have to be looked into. At least it was a link.

  * * *

  That evening she and Alex dined on lasagna, salad and garlic bread and discussed their day. Neither mentioned names or specifics, speaking instead of the questions and problems their day had presented. It seemed so easy to talk to Alex and so good to share things.

  From the moment Nathalie arrived they’d struggled to keep their hands off one another. It was a challenge—pretending they weren’t burning with desire, pretending they could last until after dinner. In the end, though, the lovemaking won, after a simple kiss had turned into so much more and they’d ended up in Alex’s bedroom, throwing themselves into passionate lovemaking that left them gasping for breath and glowing with satisfaction.

  Dinner was eaten late and afterward they returned to their lovemaking. This time, though, the urgency had been dulled a little.

  “I love your body,” whispered Alex as they lay wrapped together, their bodies gently moving against each other. First one, then the other, was on top, grinding and thrusting, kissing and licking and gently biting nipples and necks, gasping with desire and the burgeoning need that was slowly building between them.

  The dull ache became a scream as Alex rode Nat’s leg, kissing with dueling tongues and muffled moans, heated bodies clasped together as one. Then Nat was inside her, her thumb pressed against her distended mound, her fingers moving deeper and deeper, and Alex was bucking and moaning and riding wave after delicious wave of need and desire and finally—sweet release.

  But Nat didn’t stop immediately. Instead she gently moved her thumb around the now highly sensitive clitoris with barely a whisper of a touch, causing Alex to let loose with one final jarring orgasm at the exact moment that Nat herself moaned and clutched Alex to her.

  For a long time they lay clasped together, slick with love, exhaustion and the need to be one.

  “I love the texture and color of your skin and the way your body responds when we’re making love,” Alex whispered finally, touching Nat’s face. “You’re a beautiful lover.”

  Nathalie said nothing. That wasn’t how she wanted Alex to think of her—seducing and satisfying people was something she was practiced at. This wasn’t about that, it was different. It had to be different.

  “You’re very quiet,” Alex murmured eventually. “You did enjoy it, didn’t you? You’re not having second thoughts?”

  “About what?” she asked.

  “Being with a woman?”

  “I love being with you…but not just because of the sex.”

  “I would hope not.” She laughed automatically before realizing that Nathalie was being serious. “I never thought it was just about the sex, Nat. Why would you?”

  She wanted to say, “Because it’s what everything comes back to in the end,” but she didn’t. It would mean nothing to Alex and would only open up a conversation she’d rather avoid. Ignoring the question, she said, “I’ll go home tonight. I’ve got work in the morning.”

  Disappointed, Alex replied, “Just so long as you come back soon.”

  Nat didn’t want to leave, but the fear of driving Alex away with a repeat of the previous night scared her, and it seemed easier to walk away.

  * * *

  By Wednesday, Josh had assigned Lorna and Nathalie to visit lesbian clubs on Friday and Saturday night with photos of the dead women. Until then the team would make inquiries around the murder scenes and talk to family and friends. It was a slow process, but necessary. This meant Nat changing her night at the center and rearranging appointments there, but she didn’t mind. Working at the women’s center wouldn’t be as easy now that she’d be doing shift work.

  Alex and Na
thalie didn’t see each other on Tuesday because Alex was having dinner with her mother, but on Wednesday they ate at Nathalie’s.

  The conversation flowed easily as they discussed the minutiae of daily life in a way that Nathalie had never done before. It was so new, yet felt so right. There’d been a suicide in the prison the night before, so Alex’s day had been spent counseling other inmates and staff.

  “Did you know the woman who killed herself?” Nat asked.

  “Not well. She’d never been to me professionally, but she was a wing cleaner and would make passing conversation. Suicides in that environment affect everyone in some way.”

  “Do you know why she did it?”

  “Apparently she’d received divorce papers from her husband. She left a note addressed to him, but the police aren’t saying what was in it.”

  “Have you ever felt suicidal?” Nathalie asked. “I mean, really like you didn’t want to keep going?”

  “Only once for a little while. It was just after Lou died. I was scared and angry and couldn’t see how I could go on without her. I just wanted so desperately to be with her.”

  “But you obviously didn’t do anything.”

  “No. You just keep breathing and doing the daily tasks and bit by bit it becomes a little easier, but I was lucky. I had great support from friends. And Mum was brilliant.”

  “So your mother knows you’re lesbian?”

  “She’s known since I was at university.”

  “How does she feel about it?”

  “She’d have liked grandchildren, and I think she’s a little sad that she didn’t get any, but otherwise…well…she always said she just wanted us kids to be happy.”

  “You’re young enough to still have a child.”

  “Sure,” she admitted. “But it’s not a burning need right now.”

  “Do you believe there are people who should never be allowed to have children?”

  “Definitely,” Alex replied emphatically. “People can be taught parenting skills, but if they don’t have the moral and emotional desire to care for, protect and love their children, then they’re almost certain to harm them emotionally, if not physically. Believe me, I work with a lot of deeply damaged people who are paying for the parents they started out with.”

  “Yet those people end up doing the same thing to their kids?” It was a question.

  “Not always. It can depend on a lot of other variables, including what help they get along the way. That’s where, in some cases, psychiatrists and psychologists come in.”

  “Mmm…I’m not convinced,” Nat muttered. “And I certainly wouldn’t take the chance.” She knew she’d said too much, given too much away, the minute the words were out.

  Alex wanted to ask her what she meant but caught the look on Nathalie’s face and decided against it.

  Rising from the chair, Nathalie said, “You know, you’re very sexy when you’re serious, but I’m sick of serious now. Let’s eat.”

  “Wait,” Alex said, grabbing Nathalie’s hand as she moved past her chair. “You always run away when the conversation comes back to you. But I want to know about you—that’s what people do in relationships.”

  “Which is why I’m no good at relationships,” she replied lightheartedly, pulling Alex up from her seat. “Come on, our food is waiting.”

  Afterward they snuggled on Nat’s lounge and watched television. It was warmth and contentment and a peace that Nat would not have believed existed. Later they made slow tender love.

  “Can I stay tonight?” Alex whispered later. “I want to hold you all night.”

  “If you’re willing to risk another disturbed night,” Nathalie answered shyly.

  But the nightmares stayed away.

  * * *

  Bella rang Nat at work the next morning to see if she was free for lunch. “I’m in your building for an interview for an inspector’s position,” she explained, “and I want to see a friendly face.”

  They met in the coffee shop downstairs and spoke about Nat’s new job and Bella’s interview. Then Nathalie asked about Jackie.

  “Who knows.” Bella shrugged disdainfully. “She comes around three or four times a week and stays and we screw and she cooks. Then she’ll tell me she’s working and disappear for a couple of days. It hasn’t changed since you and I spoke last.”

  “I’m sorry. I kind of hoped you’d sorted things out.”

  “Well, I suppose we have really,” she replied flatly. “I’m still getting laid and a decent meal every so often, and she gets to use my credit card and car during the day. That’s a pretty fair deal when you think about it. But what about you? What’s it like working for your ex-boyfriend?”

  “That was a long time ago, Bella,” she said quietly, looking around to see if anyone from the task force was nearby. “And it’s not generally known that we lived together.”

  “Aha. Wise move,” she whispered, giving an exaggerated wink and nod. “But you didn’t answer the question.”

  “It’s good, Bella,” she answered with a smile. “Josh is organized and experienced and fair—just like you were. Actually, you can probably give us some help,” she said suddenly. “Two of us have to make inquiries at lesbian clubs in town. It’s about the women who were murdered—”

  “Do they think they’re lesbian-related?” interrupted Bella curiously.

  “That’s one possibility,” she answered quietly. “But maybe you could fax me a list of the clubs women tend to hang out at, especially the more middle-class professional women. It might make it a bit simpler.”

  “Sure,” she said with a grin. “I always knew I’d get you into a lesbian club one day.”

  If you only knew, thought Nathalie a little guiltily. But it was too early to tell her about Alex. There were still too many things that could go wrong.

  * * *

  The center was quiet that Thursday, and at seven o’clock, just after Nathalie finished her appointment, Alex knocked on the office door.

  “I thought I could last until Saturday morning,” she said with a grin. “But I was only fooling myself. And besides, you need sandwiches.”

  Leaning against the door, they held one another.

  “This is bad,” Alex mumbled when they’d finished kissing. “I can’t get you out of my mind. You’re intruding into everything I do.”

  “Ditto,” nodded Nathalie happily. “I’m glad you came.”

  That night they slept at Alex’s and the nightmares returned. This time she was in a dark place she’d never seen before. The room smelled musty and damp and she was very small and hiding behind some furniture. She knew she wasn’t supposed to be there, but she’d heard shouting and they hadn’t seen her enter.

  One woman was hidden by the shadows, but Nathalie felt a sense of recognition. The other woman was Mother and she was very angry. Then, as the other woman tried to walk away from her, Mother hit her with something and she fell down, landing right where Nathalie was hiding. The woman was on the floor and looking at her, trying to say something, trying to reach out. There was blood over her face. Nat wanted to hear the woman’s words, but she couldn’t move. Then Mother was on the woman, hitting her over and over with some sort of hard object, screaming words that Nat could hear but couldn’t understand.

  Anger and terror fought for control, but terror won and she curled against the furniture covering her face—overwhelmed by the most frightening sense of loss.

  Now Mother was pulling at her, hands covered in blood, and she was struggling, fighting Mother, trying to escape.

  Slowly a voice penetrated her terror and she knew it was Alex. But still Mother had a grip on her. Then Alex was holding her, reassuring and soothing her into sobbing, gasping wakefulness.

  The sense of loss and terror remained as she curled into Alex, clinging to her with all her strength. The bedside light was on, the bedclothes strewn across the bed and her head felt like it was going to explode. They lay like that for a while.

  “You we
re whimpering and crying,” Alex said eventually. “And then suddenly you were struggling and telling your mother you were sorry. Do you know what it was about?” she asked innocently.

  Shuddering, Nathalie moved away slightly. “You can’t be my shrink, Alex,” she snapped. “You said so yourself. If I need an interpretation I’ll buy a dream book.”

  The anger made Alex flinch. It had been there, mingled with the fear, on the first night she’d woken Nat from her nightmares, but the fact that she wasn’t attempting to pull away further told her that the anger wasn’t really directed at her.

  “You’re right,” she replied slowly. “It’s not something I need to know. I’m sorry.”

  Sitting up, Nat looked at the clock. It was two forty-five. “Shit,” she said, moving to the edge of the bed. “It’s a work day for you. You’ll be exhausted. I’m so sorry.”

  “I don’t care about that, Nat…honestly.” Nathalie’s back was to her, stiff and tense, but Alex knew she was crying. Kneeling behind her and encircling her with her arms, she held her gently, pressing her face against the wetness of Nat’s cheek.

  They stayed like that for a while until eventually Alex said, “You know I’m not going anywhere, don’t you? I can manage without sleep, but I don’t want to have to manage without you. Just trust me, Nat, please.”

  Turning, Nat clung to Alex as if her life depended on it as violent sobs wracked her body, until, still wrapped in Alex’s arms, she eventually fell back to sleep.

  But it wasn’t that easy for Alex. Given the trauma these nightmares caused Nathalie, she knew that Nat was in a lot of trouble. She needed professional help, but Alex was at a loss how to convince her to seek it without risking alienating her in the process.