by Diane Wood
Perhaps George would finally tell her what he knew and it would be enough to continue her own investigation without Mother knowing. Silently she hoped he’d contact her.
* * *
Later that afternoon, Bella rang and invited her for dinner. It was hard to refuse. The woman had lost her lover in a terrible way and she’d made no effort to offer comfort other than by phone.
Bella looked awful and Nathalie suspected she’d been drinking heavily. The house was a mess, with leftover pizza and other takeaway cartons littering the kitchen and dining area, rubbish overflowing the bin and dishes piled in the sink.
“I thought we’d just order out,” Bella said when she arrived. “I can’t be bothered cooking. Hope you don’t mind.”
Nat didn’t. Her appetite had decreased considerably since the split with Alex, and it took a conscious effort to bother eating at all.
“So, how are you coping?” she asked after Bella poured them both a drink and placed a CD of seventies’ music into her ancient stereo.
“Fine,” she replied with a shrug. “I’m not going to get my knickers in a twist about someone who didn’t love me and was cheating on me at every turn.”
The bitterness took Nathalie by surprise. “You don’t know that for sure,” she told her. “Just because she was going to the clubs didn’t mean she was having an affair.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter now anyway. If she was cheating, then she paid a heavy price, and if she wasn’t, then it was probably only due to lack of opportunity.”
“Do you miss her?” Nathalie asked, thinking about the pain of losing Alex.
Sighing heavily and finishing the remains of her drink, Bella mumbled, “I’m pretty used to being on my own, even when I’m in a relationship. And I don’t think you’ll argue that Jackie and I were hardly suited. I can’t think of one meaningful conversation we ever had. Mostly we just argued.”
“That didn’t answer the question.”
“You’re letting the lawyer in you take over,” Bella muttered, glaring. Then shaking her head, “Yes, I miss her, but I knew that one way or the other she was going to leave me.”
“I’m sorry, Bella…that it had to happen that way.”
“But are you any closer to finding out who’s behind these killings?” she asked flatly. Then raising a hand palm outward, she indicated for Nathalie not to answer. “I know,” she stated. “You can’t talk about it.”
For some time they continued to drink. Nathalie asked about Bella’s immediate plans. Surprisingly, Bella indicated that she was considering leaving the police.
“Why?” asked Nat, stunned. “You’re such a career person and you love the job.”
“Do I, Nat? Sometimes I wonder if I don’t cling to the job because there’s nothing else in my life. Anyway, I haven’t made up my mind yet. I’ll see how things go over the next few weeks, but what about you? Now that you’ve experienced being with a woman and didn’t like it, what are you going to do?”
The look on Nathalie’s face told Bella she’d struck a nerve.
“God, Nat, you’re still in love with Alex, aren’t you?” she uttered in genuine surprise.
Nathalie made no comment.
“Then why the hell did you split up?” Bella asked after a moment.
“Circumstances,” Nathalie answered evasively.
Again there was silence as Bella looked at her questioningly.
“Things that couldn’t be overcome,” she offered in further explanation. “Stuff neither of us could ignore. It was complicated.”
“And how does she feel about the breakup?”
“Relieved, I imagine. I’m not her favorite person.” Then feeling guilty that she was shutting Bella out, Nat added, “I can’t explain, Bella. I’m sorry, but I just can’t.”
“That’s okay,” she shrugged. “Ultimately the reasons don’t change anything. It’s still over and the only thing to do is pick up and start again. Problem is it gets harder each time. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother.”
Later, Nathalie told Bella what she’d discovered about her and George’s birth certificates, explaining only that it had started because of an argument and George’s comment that she wasn’t really his sister. The revelation came from a need to talk about this huge discovery in her life.
“So what are you going to do now?” Bella asked, guessing that there was more to the story.
“I’m going to see what else my brother knows. Assuming he’ll contact me. We didn’t part on the best of terms.”
“I take it you don’t get on with your mother and brother?”
“It’s—”
“Complicated?” interrupted Bella with a grin.
“Very,” she answered with a nod of her head. Then relenting, she said, “I love George because he looked after me when we were small and things weren’t good. We were very close then…because we only had each other. And I guess Charlotte’s the only mother I’ve got, so I should love her, but it’s always seemed to me that she couldn’t stand the sight of me.”
“Why would you think that?”
“I believe you always know when someone doesn’t like you, even when they’re trying really hard not to show it. And believe me, Mother never made too much effort to hide her feelings, especially when we were alone.”
“Surely if it were true, there’d be a reason?”
“I often thought it was because I was mixed race,” Nathalie admitted quietly, taking another swig of her drink. It was the first time she’d ever articulated it, even to herself, and it hurt badly. “Mother and George are so stunning looking and I’m like the ugly duckling—the ugly brown duckling.”
“Jesus, Nat. That’s a big call. Your mother obviously slept with a black guy, so why would she dislike you because of it? And if the birth certificate is a forgery and she adopted or fostered you, then she could hardly have failed to notice you weren’t white before making that decision.”
“I don’t know.” Nat shrugged. “Sometimes when I was growing up I felt like I’d come from another dimension. I didn’t look like George or Mother, I didn’t think like them and they didn’t seem to understand me. I’d see people looking at me and wondering what race I was, and I didn’t even have the solace of being secure in my own identity.”
“Did you ever ask your mother about all of this?”
“Many times when I was younger, but all it ever got me was more punishment.”
“What sort of punishment?” Bella asked suspiciously.
Nathalie didn’t answer. Instead, her eyes were focused into the distance, filled with memories and a terrible sadness that even the insensitive Bella could recognize.
“Why don’t you let me investigate for you?” Bella said suddenly. “I’ve got plenty of spare time at work, and because my team is reviewing historical cases, I’ve got access to interdepartmental and interstate computers and archives and I have a liaison in Interpol. I can access immigration records and try and track down when your father entered Australia and what address he gave when he departed. If that doesn’t work, I’ll try to track your mother. Once I’ve established where they lived around the time of your birth or George’s, we might be able to track your original birth certificates.”
Nathalie was staring at her with a mixture of concern and hope.
“Come on, Nat. It could take you years to track down that information through normal channels, especially if your mother doesn’t part with any information.”
“And you could get the sack for accessing those computers unlawfully,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s not worth it.”
“For God’s sake, Nat,” she said, bouncing up from her seat. “They’d have no reason to audit my use of the computers. Nobody’s interested in all these old files, so long as they get written off. And if necessary I’ll create a fictitious file to cover myself. Please let me do this. At least I’d be doing something interesting and useful.”
Her friend’s enthusiasm was catching. It was the
most animated Nathalie had seen Bella since before Jackie’s death. Bella was right, if her mother didn’t tell her about her father or why her birth certificate was a forgery, it could take years to track down who she really was or where she was born, assuming she managed it at all.
“Okay,” she said tentatively. “But only if I can’t get anywhere with George or Mother and if you still want to do it when you’re sober.”
Within minutes, Bella’s demeanor had changed from depressed futility to excitement. At least this was giving her something to distract her from Jackie and her loss.
Meanwhile Nathalie prayed that George would make the effort to contact her soon.
* * *
The conversation with Michael had occupied Alex’s mind all the following day. Nothing about it was right. She arranged for them to meet.
Michael had had no choice but to tell James the truth. James had known from the moment Michael defended Nathalie that he was hiding something, and he wouldn’t let it go. The friendship with Alex might depend on it, and their relationship certainly did.
“It’s your past, Michael,” he’d said gently after hearing it all. “You were a kid. Most of us have done worse. Now you have to tell Alex why you said what you did. She needs our friendship and can’t be left thinking that you’re blindly taking Nathalie’s side.”
“So you’re telling me you knew about Nathalie but didn’t think to tell me?” Alex murmured angrily when he’d finished explaining.
“Yes,” he replied guiltily. “But it was the past and I’d never told James about that period of my life, so I saw no reason to tell you. I had no idea of your connection to the family.”
“Did you know Christine?”
“Yes…but only for a few months before she died.”
“All these years I’ve known you,” she whispered, tears welling. “And I had no idea you were there…with that family. Were you there when Chris died?”
“No,” he replied sadly. “I wasn’t at the flat, George told me about it later.”
The look on Alex’s face tore at Michael’s heart.
“And was Nathalie there…at the flat?”
“No, she wasn’t. She was away at university. I didn’t meet her until after Christine’s death. George talked about her a lot. He was like a puppy waiting for her to come home. It was obvious he worshipped her…but not always in a good way.”
“What does that mean?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he replied quietly, looking toward James for support.
But James shook his head. “You have to tell her everything,” he said strongly. “No more secrets.”
“God,” he murmured. “This is so hard.” But James was right. It had to be told.
“George and Nathalie grew up in an abusive and incestuous home,” he began quietly. “Charlotte Silver and her partners slept with them both from when they were small children, and they were forced to sleep with each other for the entertainment of wealthy customers. For a price these customers could do whatever they wanted with them.” Sighing deeply, he continued slowly. “They grew up believing this was normal family life. Later, as teenagers, they were sent out to seduce other teenagers into the family—the younger the better, but age didn’t really matter so long as they looked young. Charlotte Silver is pure evil.”
Her face white, her eyes a mixture of shock, anger and sorrow, Alex whispered almost to herself, “Chris looked much younger than she was.”
For some moments nobody spoke.
“George just told you all this?” she asked eventually.
“Not all at once. I lived with them for nearly two years and was George’s special friend. The story dribbled out over time, usually when George was depressed and seriously stoned. He obsessed about Nathalie and how much he missed her and how things were when she lived there. I doubt he even remembered what he said.”
“How old were they?” she eventually asked. Then when he looked puzzled, “When she first did this to them?” she continued.
“I don’t really know, Alex,” he replied gently. “But I gather about six or eight…”
“I think we all need another drink,” interrupted James suddenly, rising from the sofa, obviously upset.
“So was Christine involved in this…in recruiting other kids? Were you?” Alex continued. She needed to know everything.
“Yes.” It was barely audible.
More silence.
“How many kids were at the house at any one time? How old were they?”
“Most of us were recruited at about fourteen or fifteen, but only a couple of us stayed at the house at any one time. Charlotte called us her favorites. The others would stay in apartments or houses that she owned.”
“Was Christine involved in recruiting you?”
“Alex…”
“Was she?” she demanded.
“George recruited me, but they were both—”
Her hand was up, indicating for him to stop. And Alex was stepping out onto the balcony drawing in deep gasps of fresh air.
When James returned, Michael took his drink gratefully, swallowing it in one swift movement. He was going to follow Alex outside, but James indicated for him to stay. “She needs a few minutes,” he said quietly. “It’s a lot for her to take in.”
It seemed like hours before Alex returned, but it was only ten minutes. Taking the drink offered by James, she also swallowed rapidly, holding out the glass for a refill and dropping back into the seat she’d occupied.
“Why did you stay? I’m trying to figure out why Christine would want that life?”
“Charlotte targeted troubled or lonely kids—”
“Christine wasn’t troubled,” she interrupted, cutting him off.
“Perhaps you just weren’t aware of it,” he answered kindly. “Didn’t you say you’d lost your father and moved from your home not long before? Your mother worked and you were at university…”
Alex didn’t respond.
“I didn’t get on with my father,” he continued. “He was a typical old-style Greek male. I wasn’t tough enough for him, and on top of that I was confused about my sexuality. I’d run away from home and was ripe to be recruited.”
“That doesn’t explain why you stayed.”
“We were in young person’s heaven, Alex. Charlotte supplied a place with few rules, no school unless we wanted to go, parties and sex, drugs and alcohol. We even had cars we could use and money in our pockets. She was stunningly beautiful and knew the psychology of kids. She made you feel special, loved, understood—until she had total control of you. Then if for any reason you rebelled she would use the psychology of fear. And she was even better at that.”
“You were a runaway, but Christine wasn’t.”
“You have no idea the power that woman had over all of us. Those who wanted out and didn’t conform just seemed to disappear. As an adult I realize that they probably just ran away, but she would let us believe that something more sinister had happened and enforce that if we didn’t participate, it could happen to us too. Worse, she’d find your weak spot, the person or thing you really cared about and threaten that or she’d know your needs and ensure they were always met. Nothing was overt. It was all psychological warfare and the occult.”
“The occult?” asked James.
“Tarot cards, crystal balls, strange potions. She used superstition and fear to maintain total control. And of course there was George. Those kids that weren’t in love with Charlotte were in love with him. Perhaps Christine was too.”
They talked into the evening about Michael’s life with the Silvers and his struggles to adapt to the real world after he left. Alex asked numerous questions. From these she realized that when an individual was in favor, Charlotte could be very generous, paying for nights at exclusive hotels, name-brand clothing, tickets and backstage access to concerts and sporting events—everything teenagers loved but couldn’t afford. The kids also had the camaraderie and support of each other through their shared e
xperiences and secrecy—a cult-like family environment. It was obvious to her that everything Charlotte did was designed to keep the kids emotionally immature and under control—a fairytale world with lots of adult fun and no responsibilities, except the sexual ones.
Alex didn’t know if any of this changed how she felt about Nathalie. Intellectually she knew that Nathalie and George were even more the victims of Charlotte Silver than Christine or any of the other kids who were recruited. Yet the Nathalie she knew was intelligent, educated and independent. Her mind didn’t want to equate that person to the abused and brainwashed young child. If she did that, then she’d have to look elsewhere for someone to blame for Christine’s death.
* * *
The detectives on the task force had rung everyone in Jacqueline St. Clare’s address book. They’d spoken to her parents and found the connection between St. Clare and Young. It dated back to high school when the two girls were in the same class. The source, a cousin of the same age, told them it was obvious St. Clare worshipped the more sophisticated and openly lesbian Young. She knew it hadn’t been reciprocated, but she didn’t know if they’d kept in touch.
“So we have to presume they did meet up again,” said Josh, adding this information to the board. “And that St. Clare was definitely in Young’s phone book. It gives us a connection between all the victims and reinforces the importance of Young’s missing address book.”
At the very least it opened new avenues of inquiry.
* * *
Through everything that had happened Nathalie continued her sessions with Dieter, the psychologist. Although he was friends with Alex, Nathalie trusted him and found she could be honest about her childhood and family life. There was no mention of Alex or what had happened to her sister. Dieter asked questions but made no judgments. Instead, he forced her to delve and question and confront her own feelings and memories, both about the actualities of her life in the Silver household and her nightmares.
“At our next appointment,” he told her during session three, “we’ll explore whatever it is that’s happening in your life at the moment that’s disturbing you so much.”
