Malicious Intent (34 page)

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Authors: Kathryn Fox

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274

MALICIOUS INTENT

Her testimony in the recent trial of Scott Barker was instrumental
in getting the heir to the magnate’s empire acquitted of murder.

Crichton, it seems, has friends in high places.

Anya couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The vilification went on.

Crichton’s father is Bob Reynolds, who has recently lobbied the
State Government for more rehabilitation, at taxpayers’ expense, for
prisoners convicted of violent crimes. Neighbors of her mother, Dr.

Jocelyn Reynolds, believe Crichton is estranged from her Tasmanian
family, and hasn’t been seen in Launceston since returning from
England with her shamed husband. They say that depriving her
mother of access to the only grandchild is one of the cruelest things
Crichton could ever do.

Anya dropped the paper and sat on the chair. Her chest ached as she struggled to catch her breath. The public obsession with her life had started all over again. No matter how far she ran, it haunted her. And now it haunted Ben.

She called his name but he didn’t answer. Panicking, she started up the stairs as someone pounded on the door. She could hear raised voices outside.

Peering through the glass, she saw her ex-husband yelling at a photographer by the road. As soon as the door opened, Martin barged into the kitchen and threw his paper on the table.

‘That job interview I told you about? Last night I was told, unofficially, that I got the job. Then I get a call this morning – on a Saturday – saying the position’s already been filled and not to bother reapplying. Of course, I’m thinking this doesn’t add up until I see the front page of today’s paper advertising a feature on my ex-wife, which happens to describe me as a murderer. Not just any paper, mind you. The biggest-selling one in the country.’ He sat down with both hands pulling his hair. He looked as though he’d been crying. ‘You KATHRYN FOX

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know she was ninety-six years old and in terrible pain – she didn’t want the bowel operation and couldn’t wait any longer for pain relief.’ He looked up. ‘For fuck’s sake. Are you going after custody of Ben? Is that why you told them about me?’

‘Martin, I had nothing to do with it.’ Anya was shocked that he thought she could be so calculating. ‘You know I would never talk to the press. A reporter rang here a couple of weeks ago, on a Friday night, and asked if I was Anya Reynolds from Tasmania. I refused to answer and he started asking me whether I killed my sister.’

‘Your fucking work has caused this. It’s always been the problem.’

Ben bounced down the stairs proudly sporting his
Star Wars
T-shirt and shorts.

‘Dad! Are you coming with us?’

‘No, Ben. Get your bag. We’re leaving.’

Anya couldn’t believe what he was saying. ‘You can’t take him. I have legal right to access.’

‘I’m taking him to the coast, where nobody knows his name.’

‘But, Daddy, I want to stay.’

Martin took off up the stairs, two at a time, and Anya chased him.

He shoved Ben’s pajamas, toothbrush and spare clothes in the duffle bag and headed downstairs. Anya had never seen her ex-husband so angry.

She grabbed his arm to stop him and he pulled away, picking Ben up at the bottom of the stairs.

‘We have to talk about this,’ Anya pleaded, but Martin pushed past her.

Ben began to cry and squirmed in his father’s arms. ‘Put me down, Daddy. I want to be with Mummy! MUMMY!’ he shrieked as Martin carried him away from the house and into the car. ‘I want Mummy!’

Anya’s eyes filled with tears. She felt pain tearing through her with every one of her son’s sobs. She ran to comfort him.

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MALICIOUS INTENT

‘It’s all right, Speedie, I love you. Daddy’s just very upset right now.’ She held his hand as Martin strapped him into the car seat before slamming the door.

He pressed his hands against the window. ‘Mummy. I don’t want to go.’

‘I know you’re angry, Martin,’ she pleaded, ‘but don’t punish Ben. He’s got nothing to do with this. Listen to him. This is really hurting him.’

Martin leaned on the car and buried his face in his forearm.

‘This isn’t about us. It’s about our child!’ she said.

‘Things were starting to fall into place. My job interview, the school you talked about. I really wanted to try to give Ben two parents, even if we didn’t live together.’

A camera flashed in Anya’s peripheral vision and she turned to see a camera crew heading her way. Martin saw them too.

‘Look what you’ve done to us.’

He got in the car, closed the door and drove off before she could stop him. Ben’s screams resonated through her as the car rounded the corner.

47

Anya went back inside and locked the door, her hands shaking. She slumped to the floor and put her head on her knees. Twenty-four hours ago, everything was going well, even looking better than it had in years. Martin was moving back to Sydney with Ben, her caseload had increased, and she’d gained Briony’s confidence.

Within a day, Kate had betrayed her by having her followed and Briony had killed herself. Now, Anya knew her private life had been ripped open for public entertainment, and the media vultures were again feeding on the carrion of her sister’s disappearance. Her work had been impugned, and thanks to one newspaper article, Martin would be loath to set foot in Sydney again. She might lose Ben for good. She felt as though a hot knife had torn through her entire being, shredding every good part of her life. For God’s sake, why?

Ben’s distress and screams played over and over in her mind.

She would have given anything to have him back again and hold him, protect him from everything and everyone.

Maybe Briony had been right to leave her child. That way the little girl would never know the pain of seeing someone she loved destroy her life. Ben was an emotional football and she couldn’t begin to imagine the trauma today had caused him.

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MALICIOUS INTENT

She could hear herself crying and tried to stop. Like an outsider watching, all she could do was wait until no more tears came. She was still sitting there when darkness fell. With puffy eyes and a splitting headache, she stood up. Legs numb and stiff, she stumbled to the front office and closed the curtains facing the street. After switching on the light, she picked up a keep-sake card Elaine kept alongside a family photo: ‘Shit happens,’

an angel said. The devil replied, ‘No it doesn’t. It’s always created by an arsehole.’

The one thing she always wanted, a real family, was what she’d never have. Changing jobs and working solo was supposed to help get Ben back.

Now her work had pushed him away again, maybe forever.

How did she screw up so badly?

Maybe the newspapers were right. She was like a murder magnet. People she touched seemed to suffer. Miriam, Martin, Ben. Now Briony was dead, too, and Anya was partly responsible. That was unchangeable, no matter what anyone said, or did.

After the exposé, she realized, it would be impossible to get work. No one wanted a scandalous expert witness, recognized by juries thanks to scathing newspaper articles. Someone who supposedly got her sister killed and covered up a murder committed by her husband didn’t retain much credibility in a courtroom.

A loud knock on the door startled her. She hesitated and stood in the hallway, not wanting to see anyone.

She kept quiet, hoping whoever was there would leave.

The knocking persisted.

‘Who is it?’ she said, with a husky voice.

‘Dan Brody. Can I come in? It’s cold out here.’

‘I’m not decent. Can we talk tomorrow?’

‘The only light on is the one in the office. If you’re in there being indecent, I wouldn’t mind seeing!’

Anya wiped her nose with the back of her hand and opened the door.

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Brody stood dangling a bottle of red wine, as though the sight of him would entice anyone.

‘Now isn’t a good time.’

‘I can see that. That’s why I came. Your answering machine is full.’

Anya folded her arms and opened the door further.

Brody walked straight to the kitchen, opened the top cupboards until he located two wineglasses and began to ferret in the top drawer.

‘Bottle opener’s in the third one down,’ she said, resigned to having a guest. She had no idea why Brody was even there.

He opened the bottle, poured the wine and handed Anya a glass.

They walked into the lounge room and sat on the couch.

Anya curled her feet underneath her and pulled her woolly cardigan tight. The wine slipped down her throat and immediately gave her a warm sense of relief.

Brody sat forward, running a finger around the rim of his glass.

‘I saw the paper. Thought it must have come out of the blue for you. I had no idea . . . I mean, Brenda never said a word.’

‘She didn’t know,’ Anya said. ‘No one in Newcastle did.’

‘Christ, it’s a hell of a lot to carry around. I see people all the time keeping secrets, but usually to save their own skins.’

Anya took another sip and waited for the blood rush to her face and hands.

‘Why are you here?’

He watched Anya for a moment, then sat back. The quiet counselor wasn’t what she’d expected from him. ‘Wanted to check you hadn’t fled the country on me. I still need you on the Deab case.’

‘How is he?’ she asked, not really caring.

‘No more assaults, but he’s clammed up about his daughter’s death. He seems to think that shouting out a confession in front of witnesses doesn’t mean much. Because he’s already on remand, the police have held off charging him.’

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Brody pulled a piece of paper from the back pocket of his jeans and handed it to Anya.

She put her glass on the floor and uncrumpled the article.

‘Don’t worry, you’re not mentioned in this one,’ he quipped.

The article, dated twelve months prior, discussed multicul-turalism and whether Australians should tolerate differing cultural beliefs. It described the death of a Syrian-born girl, chained to her bed and beaten.

‘Second page, midway down the third column,’ Brody added.

Mohammed Deab, from Greystanes, a friend of the Syrian girl’s
father, said that if a father found out that his daughter had slept
with a man before marriage, he was obliged to kill her: ‘I would
proudly go to prison if my family were free from shame because of
what I did.’

‘I’m sorry, Dan. I don’t know how I can help anymore. I am thinking of closing up and moving back to Newcastle.’

‘Crap. You’re just having a hormonal day, or whatever you call it now.’

Anya had no energy to argue, or rise to the bait.

‘Come on, where’s the bossy, know-it-all smart aleck who gives me the shits all the time?’

‘Shrouded in scandal, it seems.’

‘Anyone worth knowing is controversial. Shit, you’re right up there with royalty and our esteemed political leaders. Deab could be facing a murder charge, and from what my sources in the police department tell me, they could link him to a number of suspicious deaths, the ones you’ve been investigating.’

Anya suddenly recalled the conversation with Kate. ‘Not anymore. The DNA taken from two of the dead women doesn’t match Mohammed’s. The chances of his being implicated in the other deaths are minimal, especially if he doesn’t have herpes.’

‘Well, that’s something.’ He sat back. ‘Do you think Fatima was killed by someone else?’

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Grateful for the distraction, she answered honestly, ‘I think someone other than Deab did it. As a father, he might have gone there after she’d died and left his cigarette butt, but I think her death is definitely related to the other women.’

‘So if we can get him to keep his trap shut and stop confessing . . .’ Brody swigged his drink and headed for a refill.

‘What about the fibers?’ he asked from the kitchen.

‘I’m still trying to identify what they are. Don’t suppose you know anything about music and speakers?’

‘No, if it doesn’t have brass or bagpipes, I’m not interested.’

Anya wouldn’t be surprised if he played ‘The Last Post’ during a romantic evening at home.

‘Dan, if I’m involved in a coronial inquest into a hospital death that happened this week, the press would eat it up.’

‘So, that’s what you do, isn’t it?’

‘Actually, I’m likely to be under investigation.’ Anya picked up her glass and gently swirled the contents. ‘Someone I had been interviewing in hospital committed suicide. Before she died, I bore the brunt of her anger in front of a nurse. That’s bound to come out in the inquest. I’m convinced she survived an attack by the same man who was involved in the fiber deaths.’

‘So, your interview technique needs a little work. I already knew that.’

‘Dan, I’m serious. My actions contributed to her death.’

‘Look, you’re not responsible for anyone else’s actions. She made the decision herself and if you upset her, she must have been pretty unstable in the first place. If it wasn’t you, it would have been someone else.’

He finished the second glass and stood, slapping his hip pockets until he located the car keys.

‘Anyway, keep on at those other cases. What you find out might just save Deab’s skin. And don’t think anyone will care about that rubbish in today’s paper. My cat’s already crapped on it in the kitty litter box.’

Anya stood up and walked him to the door. ‘Thanks for the 282

MALICIOUS INTENT

wine. Hey, you don’t happen to represent litigation cases against hospitals or doctors, do you?’

‘Doctors and insurance companies? No way. Can’t afford to damage my reputation by dealing with those sorts of lowlifes.

Give me the criminals any day.’ He winked and left.

Anya switched on the computer for company. For the amount of work Dan had supplied, he deserved closure with this job. Elaine needed severence pay if the business closed.

She’d tell her on Monday morning, to give her time to look for other work.

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