One of Laura’s favourite shopping experiences was for coffee pods where she could stay in the moment amid aromas and tastes. But this morning thoughts of Tara and Seth had claimed her full attention. She’d been certain that despite Tara’s chilled departure on Sunday she would have heard from her by now. Laura did not expect a back down – Tara never backed down – but she would have thought a declaration that went some way toward achieving a compromise would have been appropriate. Laura knew she was the parent, the grown-up, and that the next contact should be at her initiative. But Tara constantly pled for her to stop mothering, to treat her like an adult. It’s been two days. I’ll ring her tonight after work, Laura thought, stepping up to the counter.
Clutching a supply of coffee-pods, and with the taste of a rich new blend still on her palate, Laura threaded her way through the Tuesday morning throng of city shoppers towards the office, allowing her mind to momentarily return to her hospital visit early this morning and her subsequent discussion with Bryce Cowlett, his blue eyes peering at her above half-moon glasses as he gave her the news. Not knowing how she should react, or even worse, how she should feel, the entire experience had been no less suffocating then than it was now as she relived it.
‘Hey, Laura.’
She glanced back to see Noah weaving his way through foot traffic to reach her, a takeaway coffee clasped in his hand.
‘G’day,’ he said, grinning, his pace seamlessly falling into step with hers. ‘I thought you’d want to know I visited Isaac Harrison yesterday. The way he lied about his alibi has been playing on my mind. And alarm bells rang when you mentioned his bouts of aggression towards Alex. So yesterday I brought him in for a chat.’
‘That’s very interesting. What happened?’
‘He finally confessed that he’s been having an affair with a married woman, who has a toddler and a husband who travels a lot. Seth was with her the night Alex was attacked. He said he lied about his alibi to protect her.’
‘That doesn’t explain why he’s been so aggressive towards Alex,’ Laura said.
‘Well, it does really. Although the woman has corroborated Seth’s account of events, she told me through tears how she loves him and how torn she feels at having to choose between him and her husband.’ He turned to Laura and widened his eyes. ‘She chose her husband. Anyway, that means we can now clear Isaac of any suspicion.’
‘That’s good news, I guess . . . although Alex was going to ask her boss to change the shift roster so she doesn’t have to work with Isaac any longer,’ Laura said, as they turned the corner, the station’s facade now clearly visible in the near distance. ‘I wonder if she got round to it yet . . . I’ll call her today.’
‘Are you OK?’ Noah asked, studying Laura’s face. ‘You seem subdued this morning.’
‘I’m fine,’ she said.
Noah stopped walking and took Laura gently by the arm, pulled her to the side, out of the path of fellow pedestrians.
‘Is it bad news about Simon?’ he said, facing her.
‘No, its good news about Simon actually,’ she said, wishing she could feel a modicum of joy. ‘His doctor told me this morning that there have been signs of slightly increased brain activity. That means he’s starting to emerge from his coma.’
Noah nodded, his eyes still intently studying her face.
‘And,’ she added, sighing, ‘I’ve just discovered Simon was one of the hacked users of the Grayson’s website.’
Noah’s tone immediately slid into detective mode. ‘How do you know?’
‘I tracked it on the web and trawled through our bank statements. There’s absolutely no doubt. He connected with . . . um, other people, at least twice a week – before he left home and after he returned.’ She threw her head back to stifle her tears. On the job, can’t cry, she repeated like a mantra in her mind. ‘The last time was the day of his accident,’ she said, clearing her throat.
Noah stared down at the pavement and took a deep breath. ‘Laura, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.’
She smiled and laid her hand on his arm. ‘You could say, “Here, have my coffee to cheer you up”,’ she joked.
As they made their way back to their respective workstations, Noah said, ‘Oh, another thing – yesterday I formally interviewed Roger Grenfell. His story was consistent. He may not be our man after all, but DNA will tell.’
Cynthia Holt’s phone call came as Laura was about to clear her emails.
‘I am so relieved to reach you.’ She took a single deep breath. ‘Alex had another nightmare last night – or early this morning really. It was awful – she’s been so traumatised by what she saw that I’ve kept her home from school today. I’m actually thinking of calling the doctor but figured I should speak with you first.’
‘What did she see?’ Laura said with deliberate calm.
‘She won’t say. She won’t tell Greg either. She refuses to speak with anyone but you. I know this is an imposition, but could you possibly come and see her this morning, please? I don’t know what else to do.’
‘Do you think she needs to see a doctor first?’ Laura asked, feeing torn, fully aware that if Alex were sedated her ability to talk about what she saw would be seriously jeopardised, even forced back to her subconscious.
‘I’m not sure. Immediately after her nightmare – at about four this morning – she was shaking and sort of howling and growling. It was hideous. I sat by her side and she slept fitfully until about six this morning. Now she’s refusing to get out of bed and won’t eat or drink a thing, not even water. She has spoken a few words, but nothing of any substance. Once she knew I was calling you at least she stopped shaking. She’s hiding under the bedcovers now, refusing to come out.’
‘Was she coherent when she spoke to you?’ Laura said.
‘Oh yes. Just withdrawn and still obviously frightened.’
‘I’m leaving the office now,’ she told Cynthia, withdrawing her jacket and bag from her locker. ‘I’ll be at your place in twenty minutes, but be sure to ring me if anything changes.’
Cynthia’s pained expression at her front door was at odds with the careless chattering and squawking of Rainbow Lorikeets in the jacarandas.
‘Thanks for coming so quickly,’ she said, before she turned and led the way to Alex’s room. ‘She knows you’re coming,’ she mouthed, standing aside at Alex’s open door to allow Laura to step in.
‘Hi, Alex,’ Laura said at the doorway, taking in the cheery white and aqua decor, posters of boy bands lining the walls. ‘Alex?’ she repeated, knowing from the sudden but slight movement of the shape beneath the white doona, that the teen was aware she’d arrived. Laura slowly sat on the edge of the bed opposite and waited for her to make the next move.
‘Tell Mum to go away,’ Alex eventually murmured from under the covers.
Laura turned to Cynthia, who nodded before moving away in the direction of the kitchen.
When Alex’s face finally emerged it was red and swollen, her blond hair knotted and shambolic, her eyes slightly wild as she refused to look at Laura, preferring instead to stare up at the ceiling.
‘What’s happened, Alex?’ Laura said softly.
‘I had another dream,’ Alex said, still focussed on the ceiling.
Laura straightened. ‘What do you remember?’
‘Everything . . . I remember everything,’ she said, her face contorting before she retreated under the covers again.
Laura leaned forward, her voice calm, impassive, her eagerness palpable. ‘Take your time and start at the beginning,’ she said.
Moments later Alex lowered the covers again, her body straightening to a tiny shape beneath the doona. ‘I saw him walking towards me. It was all sort of blurry and shadowy because of the moon through the trees and across the footpath. I was scared when I saw him but I kept telling myself it would be OK. But then, as he came closer, I knew it wasn’t OK. I knew it was really weird and really scary, but I couldn’t run away. I don’t know why.’ Tears ran down the side of her face as she continued to stare up at the ceiling. ‘I wish I had run away . . . I remember there were hardly any cars on the road. I really wanted a car to come along but there were none. As he got closer I still couldn’t see his face. Then he pulled his balaclava down to cover it anyway. I was so freaked.’ Alex paused, swiping the tears away. ‘But then he stared at me and just walked past.’ She turned her head into the pillow and sobbed.
Laura waited.
‘Then I ran,’ she said between sobs. ‘I ran as fast as I could . . . Then, when I got to the corner and I was slipping all over the place because of the berries on the path, I ran across the road to our house. I thought I was safe then.’ Alex pulled the cover over her head and slowly turned onto her side again, folding into a foetal position under the doona like a giant baby.
Laura moved to Alex’s bed. She sat on the edge, her hand resting on the cover over the girl’s ankle. Again she waited.
‘He grabbed . . . he grabbed me from behind,’ Alex wailed, her words clearly audible despite coming from beneath the bedcovers.
‘Then what happened?’ Laura prompted, her heart pounding as though free-falling in her chest.
Alex whipped the bedcover down to chest height, turned on her side to face Laura, her gaze intense. ‘His face and his body were really close – like touching – I could feel the balaclava rubbing against my face . . . his body pushing up against me. And he was big – like, really big.’ She averted her gaze, seemed to be staring beyond Laura’s shoulder, her pained concentration etched into her face. ‘His voice was like . . . like someone trying to change his normal voice – like deep and rough.’ She fell into silence, her stare persisting over Laura’s shoulder.
‘Alex,’ Laura said. ‘Alex, what happened then?’
She closed her eyes, turned on her back and covered her face with her arm, her sobs heartbreaking. Eventually she sat up against the pillows and pulled at the bedcover, tucked it under her chin, brought her knees up to her chest, strands of blond hair sticking to her face, twisted and streaked with snot and tears. She stopped crying then, pushed the bedcover hard against her mouth as though the words she was about to utter should never be heard. ‘I could smell him,’ she murmured, staring down mindlessly at the mound of her knees under the bedcover, before her face twisted with new horror and her eyes narrowed. ‘He stank . . . even through his balaclava his breath was like . . . vile, like someone who smokes way too much.’ She moved the bedcover away from her mouth. Looked directly at Laura, her eyes wide, her expression suddenly wracked with fear and horror. ‘His big hands, the way he smelled, even though he tried to sound different, I know it was his voice.’ She covered her face with both hands. ‘It was my boss, Mr Martin.’
‘Are you sure?’ Laura said.
‘I am positive.’