The Mak Collection (56 page)

“What kind of patients do you work with?”

The doctor’s manner changed slightly. She leaned back a touch.

“All kinds. I treat adult patients with schizophrenia, bipolar, dissociative identity disorders, mood disorders. I have worked with a number of patients with sleep disorders. I am confident I can assist you, Makedde, if you will let me. You’re a student of psychology yourself. A very good student, your father tells me. I’m sure you understand the benefits of what we can accomplish here, so long as both of us can work together towards the same goal.”

Mak looked to her hands again. She made a conscious effort to unfold her arms.

Stop stalling and get this over with.

“I’ve been struggling a bit lately,” she said. “But what really made me finally call you is…I did the stupidest thing last night.”

Dr Morgan perked up and leaned forward.

“Remember when you were at the house I got a call from a detective who was involved in the murder case back in Australia? Remember everyone was staring at me on the phone?”

“Yes. I remember.”

Mak told her about her background with Andy—the case in Sydney, their brief affair, the way their communication dropped off nearly a year ago.

“Well, he comes to town, totally out of the blue…You see, there’s a big conference going on at the moment—a conference on psychopathy.”

“I’ve heard about it.”

“Andy has been at the FBI Academy doing some training in Profiling, and suddenly now he shows up in Vancouver, attending the conference. He came with an FBI Profiler who was one of the speakers.”

Dr Morgan’s eyes narrowed as she contemplated this development.

“You sound like you are not convinced that is the real reason he is in Vancouver.”

Makedde thought about what Ann said.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m just so shocked. I’m not sure what to think.”

The psychiatrist wrote a few notes on a pad of paper, and Makedde remained silent.
What do I think about his showing up?

“Do you have any interest in rekindling things with this detective?”

“No.” The response was quick. Perhaps too quick. “Which doesn’t mean I haven’t ended up…”

Mak grew quiet and crossed her arms again.
Fuck, I slept with him. I can’t believe I did that!

“And how has his presence affected you, Makedde?”

It took Mak a while to answer that one.

He totally screws me up.

“I am totally thrown. It just brings back so many memories.” She looked down. “Bad memories.” She choked on the last words, and with that, tears welled up in Makedde’s eyes.
No dammit, don’t cry! Don’t!
The tears clung to her lashes and she tilted her head back, willing them to go away. When they finally cascaded down, they stung her cheeks. But she didn’t make a sound.

Dr Morgan held out the box of Kleenex and Mak grabbed a couple. She dabbed her eyes and nose, holding her breath tight, trying to make it stop.

“I’m sorry,” she said. She had surprised herself by crying, having thought she had already done her share. She had very little tolerance for her own grief. It was always best to just get on with it.

“You have no idea how devastating it is to accept that…that you were…helpless,” Mak said. “When it really mattered…just helpless. And someone had to come along and save you.” Mak held her mouth tight and tilted her head back.

“This is a safe place for you to talk about this stuff, Makedde. You need to cry, so cry. There is no need to
apologise. You have every right to be upset about your experience.”

Dr Morgan was so calm. She seemed to give off a serene, settling kind of energy that somehow made Mak feel okay about opening up. That was part of her job, of course, and Mak had to admit she was good at it.

It took a while for her to get her composure back.

“Now I can’t believe Andy is here. It was so easy to not think of him when he was thousands of miles away, I could leave it all back in Australia. Then he shows up.”

“Yes, that’d be hard. Do you feel that it’s unfair of him to have come without warning?”

“Yes!” She wiped her nose. “It bloody pisses me off. I mean I know he left messages and I didn’t call back, but he could have let me know. He could have let me know what he was calling about.”

“Yes. That would have been the right thing for him to do,” the doctor said.

“Doesn’t he realise what his presence does to me? I mean, he saved my life! He found me naked and bleeding and helpless and he saved me, and I can’t forgive myself for that. I had to be saved. If there was any way to relive the past…I would do anything to change that. I—”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Ann said.

“What?”

“Don’t go wishing to relive the trauma you
experienced, or you risk attracting violence to yourself. If not in real life, then at least in your dreams. It was bad enough that you had to endure it once, but you have been reliving that trauma in your nightmares, hoping to find a new resolution.”

Mak stopped and let that sink in.

My God, she’s right.

“I never thought about it that way.”

Ann looked directly at her, those intelligent brown eyes holding her thoughts, her secrets. “You were abducted by a terrible person and the police managed to find you before it was too late. The crime was in abducting you, Makedde, not in saving you.”

But no one could save my mother. Why should I be saved when no one could save her?

“This detective, Andy Flynn, hasn’t done anything wrong, except perhaps being insensitive to your feelings about the situation.”

“Oh, he is so bad for me. I can’t tell you,” Makedde blurted, the tears still running freely down her face. “I don’t know what it is about him. I think he’s basically a decent man, but something about him just signals trouble. Nothing but trouble.” She was on a roll now. “I have actually been dating someone, finally, for the first time since I got back from all that crap in Australia. This guy, Roy Blake, seems really sweet too.”

Ann looked up. “Roy Blake?” she asked.

“Yeah. He’s tall and good-looking, and he works as a security guard at the university. I know…I know…
cops, security guards…not much difference.” Mak took a deep breath. “Nice guy, I think. He looks out for me, he brings me flowers…” She was aware that she was rambling. Her thoughts were running off in ten directions at once.

“Makedde, it is a very positive sign that you decided to date someone new. That is exactly what you should be doing. Going out and enjoying the company of some new people. It is a sign that you are moving on—”

“But I haven’t finished yet.” She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. The words were hard. “I ended up in bed with Andy last night. It just happened. I hadn’t planned it at all. That is what I meant when I said I had done something stupid. I don’t know. I feel like a total…slut or something. It’s all wrong. I mean with Andy showing up suddenly, and freaking me out with this news about an investigation at the university. The Nahatlatch Murders. And he made it sound like some psycho is actually hunting for victims at UBC. Like he is dragging them out into the wilderness and shooting them like animals…and he’s hunting for them at my university! And I wasn’t doing so hot before that news anyway…I feel like everything is out of control here. I’m out of control. I mean; I slept with him…”

Calm down, Makedde. You’re losing it.

“Did you not want to?” Ann said.

Mak took a deep breath. She thought about that. Yes, she had wanted to. She hadn’t planned to, but she had wanted to.

“You are trying to overcome some issues right now. Your insomnia is your body’s way of saying, ‘Hey, you need to sort this out.’ Make sure every step you take is one that will bring you closer to a resolution, Makedde. I think it is wise that you have decided to speak to someone about this.”

No kidding? I can’t believe it took me so long.

“I’m not sure what to do now. I’ve never felt like this.” Makedde thought of how she was with Roy, and then Andy the very next night. “I’ve never acted like this. I am afraid of making more bad decisions.”

“Take it easy and look out for number one, okay? And remember that you don’t owe these men anything, Makedde. It is okay to ask for space.”

But I owe Andy my life.

Makedde didn’t say it, but she thought it.

I owe him my damn life.

Dr Morgan suggested that she see her again in two days, and Mak agreed. She drove home, feeling drained. She lay on her bed for several hours before sleep finally came.

Debbie Melmeth woke to the sound of footsteps. She tried to open her eyes, and was met with a jab of searing-hot pain along the side of her face. Her left eye stubbornly refused to open wider than half an inch in its stiff, swollen state.

She sat perfectly still and squinted in the direction of the sound, the direction of the only entrance to the small room which had held her for days. The footsteps stopped. She watched the doorknob as it turned…

No. No, not more!

She had been tricked.
Damn him.
She had given herself to him and it had gotten her nowhere. Now he called her a whore, an animal, and she was confined once more.

Debbie watched as her captor approached, dressed in head-to-toe black, and carrying a hunting rifle.

He placed the gun to her forehead and looked at her without compassion. She did not move a muscle,
for fear he would pull the trigger right there and then. The barrel felt cold on her skin.

“Cooperate now, little lady, and you’ll be just fine.” He smirked. Then he knelt down and reached for her ankles. She flinched at his touch. She felt the release with a series of metallic clicks.

Should she kick out at him? Could she? She imagined the blast of the gun, taking her head clean off, and she resisted the urge. She sat still.

And then he was up again, the cuffs undone, and her arms and legs were finally freed.

My God, I’m free.

She was shoved forward and instinctively hugged herself. Her captor forced her arms behind her again and her wrists were handcuffed together just as tightly as before.

She was ordered to stand.

But she couldn’t move. She had neither the will, nor the physical strength. She said nothing, just sat there with her arms behind her back and her raw ankles throbbing in pain. She didn’t want to stand. She didn’t believe that anything she did would make any difference now. He’d had his way with her and she felt worthless. She didn’t believe in anything any more.

“
Up
.” He shoved the gun’s cold barrel between her shoulder-blades, nudging her forward. “Stand.
Now
.”

Hesitantly, Debbie forced herself to stand. An involuntary cry escaped her throat as she rose and she
struggled to remain strong as her knees threatened to buckle. She did not want to fall at his feet. She did not want to lose what tiny shred of dignity she had left.

“Now, walk forward.”

The gun barrel jabbed at her, pushing her forward, and then they were moving together in a kind of funeral march, heading towards the door she had stared at for so many hours—for so many days. Then magically, she was through that door, out of that room and walking down a hallway. She’d had visions of making it through that door, but at no time did she imagine it would be like this, with a gun aimed at her back, defeated and used.

“Please—” she began. It was a word she had used many times in the previous days, without success.

Debbie was marched to the front door, floorboards creaking under her feet. The man kicked open a door in front of her and suddenly she saw the dark outdoors. She had started to wonder if she would ever see outside again. It was night and there were no lights anywhere.

The gun stayed pressed to her back as Debbie was pushed through damp grass.

“Walk,” came the now familiar voice from behind her, and she did as it said.

Debbie stubbed her toe on something and tripped. She fell forward, felt her balance go, and suddenly hands reached out of the blackness to grab her and hold her upright.

“Careful now…” came the voice.

It seemed an odd comment.
Careful or what, I might hurt myself?

After several metres, the pathway in the grass appeared to end at a wall of trees. Finally, the gun was pulled away and Debbie was in the middle of nowhere, facing the cold, dark forest.

It is time now,
she thought.
Time to die.

She felt a tug at her wrists, heard the click of the handcuffs. They were off. They were finally off, she was free, she was out of that horrible room, out of that cabin but it meant nothing now, and she knew it.

“Run.” The voice behind her was emotionless. “
Now
.”

There was no light to guide her way.

None at all.

Her eyes adjusted slowly to the faint moonlight, but even so she could barely see a thing. She did not want to run. She did not want to play this game. If he was letting her go, then he should let her go near a road where she stood a chance of finding help. Not this way. Not in a strange forest, alone.

Instead of running as she had been ordered, Debbie turned towards her captor. Better to face death head-on, rather than get shot in the back, if that’s what was intended for her. Slowly she turned towards him, searching for those awful, compassionless eyes that had watched her plead and beg for mercy.

She did not find them. Instead she found great long stalks where his eyes were supposed to be.

Debbie screamed, and started to run.

The Hunter gave her sixty seconds.

Then he adjusted his night-vision goggles, and followed.

It was a beautiful day at UBC—sunny, but with a crisp autumn bite in the air. Mak sat on a bench waiting for Roy, her neck wrapped in a warm scarf against the chill. When she had woken up that morning, she knew what to do. Sleep had helped to clear her mind. She needed time by herself. She needed space.