by Diane Wood
The phone was answered immediately.
Their conversation took a while, with Josh reluctant to pass on any information, believing that Nathalie had finished the affair with Alex.
So she gave him the abridged version of their relationship and its unhappy ending.
Josh knew Alex was telling the truth because it answered so many questions about his own relationship with Nathalie. Eventually, he told her that Nat was at home and that she was emotionally and physically exhausted and probably asleep by now.
“I have to go to her,” Alex told him. “I don’t know if she’ll want me. I said some terrible things to her. But I love her and I don’t want her to do this alone.”
“Good luck,” he replied, actually meaning it. “In case she’s asleep…she keeps a spare key taped at the back of the potted plant near her door.” He knew it was a breach of Nathalie’s privacy, but he also knew Nathalie needed someone and Alex had all the qualifications.
Alex knocked gently when she got to the apartment, then she pressed the bell, but when she got no response, she used the hidden key.
Nat was on the lounge with all the lights on, still in her tracksuit. A glass and packet of tablets were on the coffee table and she was curled in a tense ball facing the back of the lounge.
Alex moved toward the sleeping figure, calling her name. She didn’t stir. Looking down at this woman she’d so readily abandoned, Alex felt an overwhelming love and protectiveness. Touching her gently, she turned Nat toward her.
As she opened her eyes, Nat’s face crumpled—every emotion stored within her over the last few weeks bubbling to the surface in the presence of this mirage. Tears of anguish flowed down her face, and as Alex slid in beside her and held her close, gasping sobs broke from her lips.
Alex silently held her while Nathalie clung to her with all her strength. Eventually the wracking sobs subsided, Nat’s body gradually relaxing, until exhaustion, comfort and the pills won out.
Alex waited nearly half an hour before disentangling herself from the thin warm body. It shocked her how much weight Nathalie had lost since she’d left—her once athletic body was now skin and bone.
Nat slept for ten hours, occasionally moaning or crying out in her sleep but never waking. When she did, it was groggily—slowly. Memory of a wonderful dream rose to the surface. Alex had come to her—still loved her.
The side lamp was on, casting a gentle yellow light over the lounge room, and for a moment she was puzzled. The voice from the lounge chair made her sit bolt upright.
“How are you feeling?” it asked gently. “You seemed to get a good rest.”
Alex had been reading and was still holding her book, and there was a look in her eyes that conveyed warmth and love and understanding.
“So you weren’t a dream,” Nathalie stated quietly, her heart pounding with the joy of being in this woman’s presence. “But what are you doing here? How did you get in?”
“You need to hide your key in a more original place,” she replied vaguely, hoping that Nathalie wasn’t about to ask her to leave.
For a moment they looked at each other, each trying to assimilate the myriad emotions that were swirling in their consciousness. It was Alex who spoke first.
“I saw the news,” she stated kindly. “I’m so sorry about Bella.”
“Why did you come?” Nat asked, watching Alex’s face for any signs of pity. “I thought you hated me.”
“I thought I did,” Alex replied slowly. “It was easier to hate you and your family than to take any responsibility for what happened to Christine. But I don’t have the right to judge you and I know now that I could never hate you. I love you too much.”
Then they were in each other’s arms, touching and kissing and clinging together.
Initially their lovemaking was fevered and desperate, as a mutual need to be inside each other—part of each other—overwhelmed them. Afterward, as they continued to move against each other gently, they built to a second delicate, more passionate climax that seemed to cleanse and heal. Their only words had been of the moment, of their love for each other and the ache of separation, but they both knew that the pain of reality was only a whisper away.
Later, as they ate the bread rolls and broth Alex had prepared, Nathalie told her about Bella.
Inevitably, Alex asked the question that was foremost in everyone’s mind.
“I really don’t know if she was telling the truth,” answered Nathalie, better able after her sleep to give the nightmare of the last twenty-four hours some serious thought. “I know that I wanted desperately to believe her. That may have clouded my judgment. There are questions I knew would have to be asked, but that’s not possible now.” As she thought of Bella’s last moments, tears welled and she dropped her head.
“You couldn’t have prevented this, you know,” stated Alex gently. “It may not have happened the same way, but I believe it would still have happened. I think you know that.”
“Yes, I do, but if I hadn’t found the address book it might have been different. Mother’s right when she says I cause trouble and bring pain. Look at what I did to your family—to Chris.”
Mentioning Mother brought home with clear recollection George’s revelation prior to all this starting. Suddenly Nat wanted to tell Alex everything—wanted her to know the full extent of her culpability and of Charlotte’s role in their mysterious beginnings.
Alex let Nathalie tell her story, only stopping her at times to clarify something.
The events of Nat’s life were told in a monotone that excluded revealing the emotions involved. But Alex knew the supreme effort it took for someone like Nat to disclose what she did. At the end, Alex made coffee.
“I have to see George again,” Nathalie declared. “But I think he’s too scared to tell me any more. I also need to see Charlotte’s journal because whatever is in it has George scared out of his wits.”
“What she’s done to you both and to the other kids who became involved with your family is a form of brainwashing—the alternate use of rewards and fear,” stated Alex seriously. “The younger and more dependent a child is when this technique is applied, the more compliant they are throughout their lives. You got away by going to university, while George remained under her control. What I’m surprised about is that she allowed you to leave.”
“I’ve wondered about that from time to time, but I think she hated me more than she needed to control me, and anyway, she still has…had…an enormous amount of control over me. I can’t let that happen to George’s children, though.”
It was after two in the morning and they were both spent and exhausted.
“May I stay the night?” Alex asked tentatively, wrapping her arms around Nat from behind. “I don’t want to let you out of my sight.”
Showering together turned into another delicious session of gentle and passionate lovemaking with both women reveling in the touch and closeness of the other. Eventually they fell asleep wrapped in a warm cocoon of togetherness.
Chapter Thirteen
Deathly Discoveries
Nathalie was instructed to do a walk-through of the events leading up to Bella’s death, and the house was examined with a fine-tooth comb by scientific. No more incriminating evidence was found to link Bella to the murder of the other three women, but neither was there any evidence to link Jacqueline St. Clare.
Blood traces that didn’t belong to Bella were found in the spare bedroom, which if they proved to be St. Clare’s would substantiate Bella’s story that Jackie had died there. And while there was no blood found in Bella’s car, Bella would have known enough to wrap St. Clare’s body in something before dumping her at the industrial estate where she was found.
The department had put Nathalie on indefinite leave until they had more answers. They’d also offered counseling and welfare services, all of which she’d declined.
For the next couple of days she and Alex hardly left the apartment. During that time, Nat talked more than s
he’d ever talked in her life, and the more she talked, the angrier Alex became.
“Have you thought about making an official report?” Alex asked at some stage. “Charlotte Silver obviously heads up a significant pedophile and prostitution ring with connections to other countries. What she’s done to you and George alone would be enough to jail her for years. And then there’s Michael—I’m sure he’d give evidence.”
“I’ve thought about it,” she replied. “But you have to understand that George and I would also be charged. We never reported what she did, even after we were adults. And George has been actively involved in recruiting teenagers to feed to these monsters right up until now. Besides, if I do that,” she explained, “I may never find out who I really am. I have to try and get George to hand over the journal. Because the only other option is to confront Mother and…and I guess that terrifies me,” she admitted with a gesture of exasperation.
“I want to come with you,” Alex responded seriously. “I don’t believe you should have anything more to do with that woman or your brother on your own.”
For a moment Nathalie was stunned by the proposal. “Alex, I can’t let you do that. As it is, Charlotte’s paranoia has convinced her that you and your mother are out to get her. Unless George has already told her otherwise, she even suspects that one of you has the journal.”
“Then all the more reason for me to be there. Let her see a united front and recognize that her victims are finally fighting back—that she might have something to lose if she doesn’t tell you what you want to know.”
“It’s too dangerous,” she replied automatically. “You don’t understand what she’s like if you cross her. I wouldn’t be able to protect you.”
“I’m not underestimating her, Nathalie, but she has to be stopped from ruining any more lives, and she has to let you get on with yours. I’m part of your life now and I want to be there.”
It was a minefield. The thought of having Alex in support buoyed Nathalie greatly but warred with her desire to protect her from Mother’s sordid world.
“I won’t take no for an answer,” Alex stated quickly, cutting off any further objections. “Until you find out about your past, we can’t move forward. And I’m not about to let my future slip through my fingers again. I love you.”
They were in each other arms. Nathalie hadn’t known such tenderness or comfort existed until she gave herself over to Alex. It wasn’t just the all-consuming passion of their lovemaking. It was the joy of having someone to live for, someone who loved her and someone to love equally.
* * *
Josh had been in touch to let Nathalie know how the investigation was going. The gun Bella had used on herself was the same one used to kill Jacqueline St. Clare, but they were unable to trace its origins. They also found no other weapons at Bella’s house. What worried Josh was why St. Clare would have disposed of the guns she used to kill the other women, when, according to Bella, Jackie hadn’t finished her killing spree. And if Jackie’s idea was to incriminate Bella, then why not leave those weapons with the address book? Why a new gun that couldn’t be traced to the previous crimes?
“Do you mean that you think Bella was lying?” Nathalie asked during one of these conversations. “Do you think she was the killer?”
“It’s still too early to tell,” he replied vaguely. “We really haven’t come up with a motive for either St. Clare or Pittolo. It’s one thing to feel resentful by perceived disrespect, but would that be enough to send someone…two people…on a murder spree? We desperately need more physical evidence linking one or both women to the crimes.”
Nathalie was glad to be out of the investigation. At the moment it all seemed too hard. She wanted Bella to be the innocent she claimed, but she couldn’t shake the terrible suspicion that Bella and St. Clare were involved in the killings together—that St. Clare’s death was some kind of falling out. She had nothing on which to base these terrible thoughts, though, and she didn’t want to dwell on them.
* * *
George wasn’t answering his mobile, so Nathalie decided to try the house. She got Belinda, who said that George had been acting very strangely and hadn’t been home or in contact for two days. She confided that Charlotte was furious, but she didn’t really know what was going on.
“Please, Belinda,” Nat pleaded. “I need to talk to George urgently. If he gets in touch, please ring me.” Passing on her mobile number, even though she knew he had it, Nathalie hung up. Did Mother know he’d read the journal? Was that why he was in hiding? Or was it to do with the children? God, George, she thought bitterly, why do you have to choose now to disappear?
That night her frustration got the better of her. “I have to speak directly to Mother,” she stated to Alex irritably. “George has disappeared, so I have no choice.”
“There might be another way you can find out more about your past,” Alex suggested quietly. “It’s a long shot and not the best way of doing things, but you could approach Dieter to do a hypnotherapy session with you—taking you back to your early childhood.”
“Would that work?” she asked excitedly. “Could I find out who I am?”
“It probably won’t be that simple,” Alex replied gently. “But it may give you some insight into your nightmares. You need to see Dieter again anyway, especially with what’s just happened.”
Alex phoned Dieter, and they went to see him together that evening. He had a lot of reservations, but he agreed to listen to what they had to say.
At the end of Nathalie’s explanation, Dieter said, “Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t even consider it. As Alex is aware, we do a lot of preparation with a client before entering into hypnotherapy. Your mind has suppressed those memories for a reason, so to bring them to the surface without the proper preparation could be very traumatic and detrimental.”
“It can’t be any more horrific than the nightmares,” Nathalie retaliated, “nor living with not knowing why I ended up in this situation in the first place. Please, Dieter, I’ll sign a waiver removing you from any responsibility. Anything, but please, let me do this.”
“I really believe Nathalie’s ready to confront whatever comes out of this,” stated Alex quietly. Then looking toward Nathalie, she added, “I’ve seen her when she has these nightmares, Dieter, and she’s right—she can’t keep going like this. Whatever happened is destroying her. At least if she finds out what it is she has the chance to deal with it.”
“If I do this,” Dieter asked, addressing Nathalie, “will you agree to Alex remaining in the room?”
“Yes, of course. I don’t want any more secrets between us.”
* * *
Alex sat in a chair in a corner of the darkened room, while Nathalie stretched out on Dieter’s couch. Dieter had explained the process at length and had laid down the ground rules. “If at any time I think you’re showing signs of too much distress, I will stop the session. If Alex thinks that it has gone far enough, she will also have the option of telling me to bring you out of it. That’s the only way this will work.”
Twenty minutes later, Nathalie was in a hypnotized state.
At first Dieter worked with the memories Nathalie did have of her childhood, taking her back until she came to the edge of her recollection. At that point he asked her to explain where she was and what she was doing. Nathalie said she was six years old.
“It’s George’s birthday,” she said in childlike language. “And George wants a bicycle because we had to leave his last one at the old place.”
“What country are you in now?” Dieter asked gently. “Do you know?”
“London,” replied the young voice.
“And where did you come from?”
“We came on the airplane from…”
Then there was silence.
“From where, Nathalie?” prompted Dieter gently. “Do you remember?”
“Mother says we mustn’t tell.” There was a slight agitation in the voice as she attempted to push past th
e edge of her memory.
“Did your mother say why you mustn’t tell, Nathalie?”
“She’ll hurt me if I tell. George says I must do what she says or she’ll keep hurting me and then she’ll send me away.”
“Who is George?” Dieter asked, testing her response.
“He’s my brother. He said Mother doesn’t want me to remember. She’ll put me in the woods if I remember.” Now the childlike voice sounded truly scared.
“Nobody can harm you now, Nathalie,” Dieter crooned gently. “Not your mother or anyone else. You’re in a safe place and you are allowed to remember. Do you understand?”
“She’ll put me in the ground again!” The voice was struck through with terror and Dieter immediately changed course.
“It’s all right, Nathalie. Let’s talk about something else. You said George had a bicycle in the old place. Did you have a bike?”
“No.”
“Did you like the old place?”
Her face reflected conflicting emotions. “I think…I think I liked it with my old mummy,” she replied carefully. “But she went away. Aunty Charl…my new mother…made her go away.”
Both Alex and Dieter noticed the alternating terms of “mother” and “mummy” for the two individuals. When she spoke of “mummy” there was warmth. When she spoke of “mother” there was only fear.
“Nathalie, do you remember what the place was called that you lived in with your old mummy?”
“My address is 1110 National Boulevard, San Diego. Mummy said I must remember that in case I was ever lost.”
There was a small intake of breath from Alex. This was better than Nathalie could possibly have hoped for.
“Nathalie, do you know what your full name is?”
“Nathalie Olivia Duncan, and I live at 1110 National Boulevard, San Diego,” she stated by rote.
