Chapter 21

She didn’t want to believe him, but when she saw the tattoos she had no choice. They only shared one. The grid at the back of the neck. And it was the one she didn’t seem ready to tell Harry about.

She showed him the two swallows on her midriff, off to the left-hand side. When they compared the tattoos, it was clear the birds were the same. One tattoo was based on the other. But she didn’t dream of the night at the Shelter Bar, under the Story Bridge. Instead, she dreamt of a little yellow worker’s cottage with an overgrown garden. A small verandah at the front. Fireworks. All the lights were off, and Kyla and Rob held each other, watching the explosions of colour, smoking pot and drinking bourbon.

‘That was the moment that she knew they’d be together for­ever,’ she said. In the light coming through the kitchen window, Harry could see goosebumps on her bare arms.

When she was calm, she sat at the kitchen table, shaking her head, while Sandy made tea in the kitchen.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m Jess. Jessica Slatter.’ She offered Harry her hand. It seemed too formal but he took it. Her fingers were cold.

When the tea was made, the psychic brought it to the table, taking her own cup to the patio setting outside.

‘I don’t mind if you sit with us,’ Jess said. But Sandy waved it away.

‘I don’t need to hear your stories,’ she said. ‘I can feel them.’

On Jess’s left arm, a demented Raggedy Anne doll, one eye pulled from its head.

‘She was abused, when she was 14, by her swim coach,’ Jess said. ‘She never confided in anyone, she never felt safe with anyone, until she met Rob. When Kyla told him about what happened, he went round to the swim coach’s house and beat the shit out of him. Even though it all happened years earlier.

‘Rob was in the army, wasn’t he?’ she asked.

Harry nodded. ‘SAS, I think. Special forces, anyway.’

He told her about the drowning man, showed her the tattoo. Jess reached out towards the tattoo, then hesitated as though she were scared the man might spring from Harry’s flesh and drag her under. Her fingers felt cool on his skin.

Harry pulled his shirt off to show her the poppies. Outside, Sandy left her tea on the table and took herself on a tour of the garden. Wind rattled the windows.

‘Holy crap!’ Jess said.

He hoped she would touch his skin again, but she didn’t. Maybe she was scared of the tattoo, or scared of what might happen if she touched him again.

Harry felt the heat rising in his cheeks. ‘Rob saw something horrible. He saw Australian soldiers – or maybe contractors, working for an Australian – massacre a group of Afghans. At least one of the women was raped. And then…’

He pulled his shirt back on. Shrugged.

‘I don’t know what happened then. The memory…the memory I have is that there was no way he was going to let them get away with it. He felt like shit, watching it unfold through the scope on his rifle.’

‘I think he came home, tried to get some sort of justice on his own terms,’ she said. ‘I think that’s what this one is about.’

She turned, so that he could see the tattoo on her right arm. A sexy, zombie librarian. Leg up on a stepladder, revealing stocking top and suspender. Hair pinned back with bloody throwing knives. She was holding a manila folder, the pages tumbling to the ground.

‘She helped Rob. When he hit the roadblocks, she went in and helped him out,’ Jess said.

‘Helped him out?’

‘Mata Hari-style. I didn’t…I can’t remember it all. I remember her staring at the ceiling while this hairy-backed brute fucked her. I can remember Kyla leaving, slipping some documents into her bag while he was still asleep in the bedroom. His uniform was strewn across the floor.’

‘Uniform?’

‘Army uniform.’

Harry considered this new piece of information. ‘Wow. Just…wow.’

‘Yep.’ Jess drank some tea. ‘I guess…I don’t know…she was sexualised young. Abused. Maybe she decided she wanted to use sex to help Rob.’

Harry thought about it, stared out at Sandy, who was leaning over a flower bed at the bottom of the garden, smelling a white rose. He sipped his tea, listened to the gum trees rustling in the wind. Harry looked up at Jess. She stared at him with dark eyes. She pushed the hair back off her face, tucked a curl behind one ear. He’d only just met her, but it was a gesture he was sure he’d see a lot of.

‘You’re married?’ he said.

She held up the finger, flashed the ring. ‘Yes. Just.’

Harry imagined what it must have been like for her. It was bad enough having to deal with it by himself. But if he’d still been with Bec, well, he wasn’t sure the relationship would have withstood the stress. Well, duh.

She nodded, reading his mind. ‘Yeah, Darren thinks I’m crazy.

‘The neck tattoo…What did you say it was?’

‘It’s from Afghanistan,’ Harry said. He considered elaborating, passing on the information Bill had given him. But he didn’t want to freak her out. Not yet.

‘Right. That one appeared while he was at a conference. So I had the shock of it to deal with, and then I had to try and explain it to him. I’d had a couple of wines, but it wasn’t blackout material.

‘And he didn’t believe me, when I told him it had just appeared. Well, why would he…Would you?’

Harry shook his head.

‘I think he thought, you know, early mid-life crisis. Night out with the girls. Bad Boys Afloat. Too many margaritas. Tattoo.

‘And the funny thing was, he seemed to accept that. If I had told him that’s what had happened, he would have thought it was funny. A great story to tell. He’s no prude. He’s got a couple of tatts himself. And now…’

She got up, took her cup to the kitchen. Filled herself a glass of water from the tap. Stared out into the garden. Harry could see she was struggling to keep it together.

‘…Now…I don’t know. I think he thinks I’m someone else. Maybe I am. Do you know what I mean?’

Harry did. He wanted to get up and comfort her. He wanted to do a hell of a lot more than comfort her. But that wasn’t him. That was Rob. And he didn’t want to do it to – with – her. Not that there was anything wrong with Jess. But this was Rob, reaching out to Kyla. He nodded, but she was still staring out the window.

‘Jess, I know exactly what you’re talking about. They’re growing. They’re real people. Or the spirits of real people. Inside us. And as the tattoos appear, their influence on us is growing.’

She returned to the table, wiping her eyes. Forced a smile.

‘The neck tattoo,’ Harry said. ‘I know you don’t want to talk about the memory that it had attached to it but…I can remember a dark room, a man’s face. I think it’s the guy who did the tattoo, the guy Rob pulled from the sea.

‘It all seems to be linked to him, to what he did. I thought if we could…’

‘Ahmed,’ she said.

Harry gasped. As soon as she said the name, it locked into place. He wanted to speak but Jess had her eyes squeezed shut, hands out as though feeling for something in the dark.

‘He had a wife…and a boy…I can see him in a high chair. Afsoon. The wife’s name was Afsoon.’

She opened her eyes. ‘I thought it was just some random dream. A kitchen.’

‘If we can find them, maybe…’

Jess nodded. ‘Yeah. Maybe…’

Harry checked his watch. ‘Is Darren going to freak if he finds Sandy and me here?’

She tilted her head to one side, screwed her face up. ‘It’s not going to help.’

‘I’ll get Sandy. I don’t want to cause you any more problems, but we do need to talk about this some more.’

He finished his tea, got up, and opened the door to the patio. Sandy turned, smiling. But there was a haunted look in her eyes.

‘Ready?’ she said.

‘Not really, but…’

‘Yeah.’

Harry and Jess swapped phone numbers. She asked him to text rather than call.

‘You know, because of…’ She gestured in the direction of the garage, where the car was missing.

She walked them out. At the bottom of the driveway Harry turned, looked into the vacant garage. This time he noticed the empty packing crates stacked there.

‘How long have you been here?’ he asked.

‘Oh, not long. A month or so.’

‘Who lived here before you?’

Jess shrugged. ‘No-one. This was the last block on the estate. They dropped the price to get rid of it. Put the house on it. We moved in.’

Harry scratched his head. Sandy climbed into the car, leaving him alone with Jess. He was never good at goodbyes, even at the best of times.

‘Thanks,’ he said. He held out his hand.

She sidestepped the outstretched hand, and wrapped her arms around his waist. She planted a kiss on his jaw. He breathed in the scent of her hair. He could feel her heart beating against his chest. Goosebumps rose on his arms. Since splitting up with Bec, this was the loneliest he’d ever felt.

‘You know who did it, don’t you?’ Jess said.

Harry thought of the silver-haired man, striding into the compound in Afghanistan.

‘Yeah, I do. You?’

She nodded, squeezed him tighter, then let go. ‘We’re going to have to be careful,’ she said.

Jess turned and walked up the path. She sniffed back tears. ‘Talk soon.’

Harry watched her go, then climbed into the car. Sandy reached around to get her seatbelt. He saw her hands were shaking so badly it took her three attempts to click it in place.

Harry looked at her, but she wouldn’t return his gaze. ‘Drive.’

He drove. Back through the labyrinth of landscaped suburbia, past kids playing street cricket. As they left Cedar Falls, with the comforting roar of the highway growing louder by the second, Sandy took a deep breath, cleared her throat and finally spoke.

‘Something really bad happened there. She’s buried there.’

Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. ‘Kyla?’

‘If that’s her name. Long dark hair. Feisty. Tattoos.’

‘That’s Kyla.’ Harry looked out the window. ‘Holy shit!’

‘What?’ Sandy said, following his eyes as though he’d seen something out the window.

Harry’s mind reeled. The ant walking in slow circles.

Well, we are concreting his driveway.

Floorboards.

Scratching.

Dead batteries.

‘I’ve been such an idiot. I know where Rob’s buried.’

Sandy was quiet. He looked across at her. Saw the tear rolling down her cheek. She hitched a breath, trying to hold it in.

‘Sandy? Are you okay?’

‘Of course I’m not! Jesus. This is why I don’t do this shit any more!’