Nightmares of Caitlin Lockyer (Nightmares Trilogy) (14 page)

It had a comfortable back seat, though, that'd seen some use
... I shut that thought down before it went any further.

Focus. Caitlin.

She stared at it, licking her lips nervously. "They had a car just like this one. They pulled me into it and drove me
there... and..." She gulped back tears, not wanting to finish her sentence.

"Check the number plate, if you like. Then you'll see they probably just had the same car as I do."
If you know the number plate, now's the time to tell me.

She shook her head. "I never saw the number plate. I wouldn't know."

"Would you like to check the car? I'll pop the bonnet and the boot and open all the doors. If you find any of them, I will happily beat the crap out of them for you, with the tyre iron, even," I offered cheerfully. Behind my back, I crossed my fingers, desperate for any luck I could get.

She let out a held breath and laughed, a little nervously, but it was a laugh, nonetheless.

"But... you swear you don't work for them?" She smiled as she spoke, as if she felt silly even voicing the words.

I did my best to take her question seriously, clearing my throat before I replied, "No. And even if I had, I'd say that arrangement would have ended about the time one of them decided to try and kill me on that beach where I found you." I paused and held out my hand. "Would you still like a lift home?"

Don't get into cars with strangers. No one knew that better than Caitlin. God, I wish I had half the courage it took her to do it again after what happened the first time.

Her breath hissed through her teeth as she gave me a frightened smile. "Yes. Could you help me to the car, too, please? I think I've had about all the walking I can take today."

Waking up on sand.
Don't know how I got there.

Not dark anymore.
Stars. Clouds.

Moon.
West over the water.

My hands.
Not my hands...

Trust me.

So cold.

Indistinct voices.

Couldn't focus.

Don't remember.

Don't remember shouting, fighting.

No warning.
Gunshots, more than one, in quick succession.

It's over.

Bright lights, strangers. Scared.

Police shouting, warning, shooting
...

One shot.

Me, screaming.

Why don't I remember?

Caitlin glanced at the back seat as I lifted her through the passenger side door. I didn't follow her gaze. I knew no one had left underwear or anything else incriminating there. The last girl who'd lain on my back seat hadn't been wearing any underwear
... I cut that thought short. This was hardly the time.

I turned my eyes back to Caitlin's worried ones. Guessing her thoughts, I told her, "You have a window that you can open if you want to – and a door you can leave by if you decide you don't want to be in the car. Just give me a bit of warning on the freeway – so I can pull into the emergency stopping lane before you get out."

I shut the door for her and strode to my own side of the car, sliding into the seat easily as if nothing was wrong.

Caitlin clicked the seatbelt into place and clutched at it with white-knuckled fingers of fear. "Saucer eyes," she murmured. She closed her eyes, as if struggling to remember something.

I started the car, trying harder to forget. The first time I saw her.

The red car parked on the side of the road, windows down. A spiral of smoke wafting out of the open window, the smell of the cigarette carried away on the winter wind.
Watching, as they did the same.

There were plenty of people around. Commuters in suits, tradesmen in fluorescent shirts from the construction site nearby and casually dressed students on their way to university. The intermittent clicking from the crosswalk lights to the east.
A ranting religious man handing out flyers, trying to save people from the end of the world. Couldn't save her.

A moving curtain of darkness in the light
breeze, turned to deep red wine in the sunlight. It was her hair I saw first, drawing my eye to the rest of her.

She walked close to the kerb, a cheerful smile on her face, her loose hair rippling and catching the light. She wore a blinding white t-shirt that proclaimed she was an angel. The faint outline of her nipples punctuated the word through the cotton in the cold wind, calling the proclamation into question. An angel, but an earthly one without wings, unless they were attached to her feet. Her every step was fluid, graceful, as if she were dancing through the crowd of people, from paving stone to paving stone. I stopped watching them. I only had eyes for her. I thought she was the most incredible girl I'd ever seen and I wanted her, my angel, like I'd never wanted anyone or anything else before. God, even the memory was torture, seeing how much she'd changed.

What did I want to do to her? Hell, anything she asked me to. She was that stunning.

Of course they saw her. Of the hundreds of people walking down the Terrace, they had to pick her. Someone spoke to her, before getting out of the car. She said something else and opened the back door. For a moment, Caitlin's face lit up with a beautiful, heart-stopping smile as she leaned down to speak to someone inside.

I was mesmerised, caught up in half-formed fantasies about what I wanted to do with this girl. Precious seconds that I couldn't afford to lose. Seconds that could have cost Caitlin everything.

Caitlin's smile slid into a look of horror as she hit her and pushed her in. For a moment, her dark eyes held mine and they screamed HELP. But her lips didn't move or make a sound, sunlight catching on shiny lipstick the same colour as the scars on her wrists now.

The flick of her dark hair before it swung out of sight. The slam of the door behind her. The blur of the driver running around, closing the driver's side door and starting the engine. The roar of it revving as the flash of orange indicated they were going to move.

A cigarette butt thrown out of the window.
Sparks on the paving as the mirror-tinted glass blocked my view, sliding smoothly up like a Mercedes window should.

I'd wanted to step in, stop them and help her, no matter what I was supposed to do. But I was too slow emerging from my daydream into her nightmare. It was too late. The car had already driven away with the angel inside who'd never be mine.

Now, my knuckles were whiter than hers, my nails digging deep into the soft leather steering wheel.

I glanced at Caitlin, but her face was turned away from me, staring out the window. Now that she was wearing a long-sleeved jumper with long pants, it was hard to tell she was injured at all.

"You look so much better in clothes," I blurted out, before I realised what I'd said. "Oh hell, I didn't mean..." I almost said that I hadn't been fantasising about her naked, but that wasn't entirely true. I'd been remembering just such a fantasy, the first time I'd seen her. I'd since seen her wearing nothing but blood. I'd give anything to forget that night.

She still didn't look at me, as if she hadn't heard.

I reached over and touched her cheek. My fingers came away wet with tears. I swore, then took her hand. "Caitlin, it's over. They can't touch you any more." I paused. "Or are you upset that I was checking you out?"

She laughed through her tears, wiped her eyes and met mine. "I'm going to be all right." She was forceful, more to herself than to me. "Please, can you take me home now?"

Sneezing.
Searching through a full bag for a tissue.

Felt the spider-crawl of someone's eyes on me.

A woman, staring out of her car window.

Walking past her.

She got out of the car.

I looked at the car to avoid looking back at her.

Bright red paint, shiny wheels.
Nice car.

I looked up at her face.

Her friend. Wanted to talk to me.

Opening the door, from bright sunlight to darkness.

HELP ME. Eyes met mine and understood.

Too late.

The only conversation in the car was the English accent of my GPS directing me dispassionately from the hospital to Caitlin's house. My part in the conversation was to listen and do as she said.

Caitlin stared out the window for the whole trip. When we pulled into her driveway,
I had to call her name a few times to get her attention.

"
Mmm?" she said, sounding far away.

"You're home," I said softly. I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened my car door.

My shoes scuffed and scraped the concrete driveway. I was too tired to lift my feet further as I crossed slowly to her side of the car. I had her door open before she'd even taken off her seatbelt.

Her expression was troubled. Even though her eyes were directed at mine, she didn't seem to see me. She looked lost in a memory.

I touched her now-dry cheek. "You're home," I repeated.

"Home," she murmured, as if she couldn't remember the meaning of the word. She blinked and her eyes cleared,
focussing on me. "Thank you, Nathan."

She let me help her from the car. I slammed the door behind her.

"I will never like this car," she said quietly, still looking troubled.

I tried not to laugh.
I never had, either. Maybe it was time to buy something new.

She started to take slow, deliberate steps to the front door. I froze for a second before I rushed to help her. She couldn't make it from the car to the door by herself yet, even with the strong pain medication still in her system.

I helped her extract the spare key from its hiding place and unlocked the front door, holding it open to let her inside. I followed her in and dropped her meagre bag of belongings on the tiles, alongside Alanna's laptop.

Her eyes followed mine to the bags on the floor.

"You can use my sister's laptop for as long as you need to," I said and she nodded.

We both stood in the entry, suddenly awkward.

She wanted to be alone. She was finally home.

I knew all this, but that didn't stop me from asking her anyway. I wanted to stay to watch over her, to make sure she was okay.

"Do you want me to stay?" I asked, as she spoke.

"Did you want to have dinner here, or do you have something planned at home?"

We both laughed, nervously.

It was fucking stupid to drive her in that car, knowing the memories a Mercedes held f
or her. The last thing she wanted was to have me in her house reminding her of the atrocities committed against her. She needed to forget.

I jumped in before she had time to invent an excuse to support her refusal. I already knew I didn't belong here. "You should probably have a rest, maybe even a couple of hours' sleep, and I'd stop you from doing that if I stayed. I'll leave you to it
... Here's my phone number. If you need me at any time, feel free to call." I handed her a scrap of paper, on which I'd hastily scrawled a number. "How about I see myself out?"

She smiled and looked understanding, as I dragged my feet back to the door.

Unable to resist saying something, I finished with, "I'll stop in tomorrow to see how you're getting on."

She smiled and thanked me – as if she meant it.

As I walked out the front door, I had this mad urge not to go, to stay and just sit in the kitchen while she slept. She had surveillance cameras all over the house and Navid or someone else nearby, keeping watch. There was no need for me to be there.

I made myself get into the car again and pull out of the driveway. For a second I thought I saw her silhouetted in the window, but I must have imagined it.

Sleep, Caitlin, and stay safe. Please.

Waking up in the dark, hurting and cold.

My face wet with tears.

Screaming for them to let me go until my throat hurt and my voice was almost gone.

No one.
No reply, no light.

Cold.
Rough. Hard. Draughty.

I was lying on concrete.

I didn't know where I was or who they were.

Someone else breathing in the dark.

Would they hurt me or help me?

Who was it?

Had I imagined it?

Not sure what was worse – cold and hurting, alone in the dark, or hot and in pain, with some prick hurting me more?

It was always dark.

And out of the dark came

Fuck.

Blood and bare skin; sand and screaming; struggling and shots.

Oh God, Caitlin!

My sleep that night was plagued with nightmares about what she'd looked like when I found her, thinking she was dead. That they might get to her again while I wasn't there. I worried that she wouldn't survive the night without me.