Without Consent (7 page)

Jennifer Beck studied the papers. “I take your point. Perhaps Lyndsay’s team could perform a pilot study. But for now, why don’t you try taking photos of the victims’ state—clothing, and any visible injuries on their faces or hands. Anything that could help us.”

Mary Singer refused to look up or comment, but the others tentatively agreed.

Anya wasn’t that restrained. “If the victims are properly informed about photography and its potential uses, fewer women will consent to examinations and you’ll have even less evidence.”

“That’s a risk I’m prepared to take,” the prosecutor proclaimed.

It always astounded Anya that lawyers and police didn’t feel the need to understand the science behind the evidence they depended on. They just wanted to manipulate it for their own advantage. The lack of scientific studies on post-intercourse physical findings would sink any prosecution’s case. So Jennifer Beck wanted victims to have invasive procedures done and photographed, for no real benefit.

Beck and Veronica Slater had more in common by the minute.

Lyndsay moved on to the next item on the agenda: nurse practitioners performing sexual-assault examinations and having the doctors interpret the evidence.

Anya decided this battle could wait. She collected her papers and left the meeting.

Geoff watched his mother leave for
bingo at the senior citizens’ club and immediately announced his need to buy more underwear at the shops. Nick thought it was a good idea and drove his cousin to the center. For the first time since leaving prison, Geoff had a few hours to himself.

Alone, Sunny checked the buttons were done up on his shirt. He didn’t want to appear sloppy, and so he rubbed the tips of each shoe on the backs of his trousers. It’s what he’d seen men do in the movies before they saw their girls. His palms sweated on the tissue paper keeping the flowers together and some of the purple dye came off on his hands. He looked up and down for somewhere to wipe them and chose a bus-shelter a few doors down. He checked his watch. She’d be coming out the door any minute now. The same time dinner got served at the prison.

He’d only been out a couple of weeks, but his hair had already grown. He didn’t really need the cap, but he felt safer wearing it. Watching the traffic, he counted the cars going past and sang the theme from
The Jetsons
to himself. Nervous about meeting his girl, he mustered a mouthful of spit and landed it on the ground in front of the bench. Someone on the bench gave him a dirty look before moving. Geoff sat down. As it turned out, it was a good move. A bus came along and Geoff pretended to tie up his shoelace, so he could look up the skirts of girls getting off the bus. This was one of his favorite tricks.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his girl come out of the shop and bend down, facing the shop. Approaching, he could see the thin V-shape of her undies showing under her trousers and he felt excited. Hopefully, she had that low top on too—the one that made her breasts stick out. She stood up and locked the door.

“Are you closed?” he said, from behind her back.

“Yeah, come back tomorrow. We open at ten.”

“Do you have any more comics?”

The girl turned around. “Hey, it’s you. You’re the one who came with your mum.”

She remembered. Geoff felt his heart beat harder. “You helped me get some good stuff.”

“Well, that’s my job.”

She attempted to move past him, but he held up the flowers, unable to take his eyes off her chest.

“These are—um—for you,” he said.

“Thanks, but I already have a boyfriend,” she replied. “Look, I’m sure you’re a nice guy. Maybe some other girl would like them.” She sidestepped and started walking. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Wait. I picked these especially for you. Don’t you like them?”

Her heels clomped faster. “Look, I told you. Thanks, but no thanks.”

This wasn’t the way Geoff had imagined it. She was supposed to take them. She had been nice to him when he bought the clothes. Now she was being rude.

He hurried to catch up. “I don’t understand. You acted all nice; now you’re not.”

“I was doing my job. What did you expect?” She stopped and glanced around. After looking him up and down, she softened.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll take the flowers.”

He handed them over.

“But don’t get the wrong idea. I told you I’ve got a boyfriend and he is really jealous. You’d better not come around again. If he catches you, he’s likely to do something stupid.”

“They’ll die if you don’t put them in water.”

She waved the bouquet in the air and walked away.

Geoff followed her down to the corner and watched as she walked down the next street. Outside a block of units, the girl walked up to a rubbish bin, opened the lid and tossed the flowers away.

Nick Hudson stood with his empty glass. “Another beer?”

Geoff kept his face buried beneath his cap. “I want coffee.”

“You’re kidding, aren’t you? This is a pub, mate. The first one you’ve been in for twenty years. Remember Pat French and Tom Bowles from school? They moved here from the Bay a few years ago and bought the place. We get mates’ rates.”

“Geez. Did every bastard from home move here?”

“No real choice, mate. When the mines closed up north, all the work dried up. Reckon half the Bay came here looking for a job because of the chicken factory opening up. C’mon. How about another beer?”

Geoff dug the tip of a dinner knife into the wooden table, chiselling a divot.

Nick sighed. “Coffee it is.”

Geoff didn’t look up. The remains of his second schooner had sloshed out when he bumped the salt-shaker.

He didn’t understand why everyone in prison reckoned alcohol was great. After someone got caught making moonshine, they were only ever allowed to have a couple of pieces of fruit in their cells. Geoff didn’t get it. He’d never really liked the taste of beer, wine or spirits. And then there was having to go and take a piss every time he drank the stuff. It just went right through him. He’d already fought his way to the men’s toilet three times and they’d only been here for one hour and three minutes.

This floor was sticky and covered in spills from the drinkers standing around, waving their arms as they crapped on about something they thought sounded smart. He didn’t like the smell, either. Stale beer smelt worse than piddle, he reckoned.

Nick returned with a cappuccino and a small glass with a brown and white drink.

“Thought I’d have a cock-sucking cowboy to get things moving. Pat says hello,” he said. “She’s at the bar if you want to—”

“I’m hungry,” Geoff grunted.

“Mate, food’s on its way. They’ll bring it when it’s ready. Pat’s organized a double-size feed for you.”

It was past dinnertime and Geoff didn’t like it. He was only here because Nick had brought him to meet some of the old gang from Fisherman’s Bay.

“Do you like being out? I mean, it must be kinda strange being free after all this time.”

“I like
Gilligan’s Island
,
Hogan’s Heroes
, and all the good shows.”

“That’s great, mate, but how about the other stuff, like meeting people?”

With the cap firmly over his eyes, Geoff confided about the girl and the flowers.

“So that’s why you looked so down when I picked you up. You don’t need a bitch like that. She’s probably so far up herself she’d disappear if she sneezed.”

Geoff snickered. The thought of someone being blown out her own nose made him laugh. Just like that guy from the
Cat in the Hat
movie.

“Mate, I need to ask. Is there someone special you’ve been keeping a secret?”

“Nuh.” Geoff sneaked a look at the women around the bar. “I’m not good at talking to girls.”

“Well, who’s this?” Nick pulled a photo from his wallet. “You left it in one of your pockets. I found it in the laundry basket.”

Geoff studied it. So that’s where it had gone. “She is special. She wrote me a letter and put it in my pants when I got out. When all those people were yelling at me. I didn’t even see her.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought you’d take her away.”

“Man, if she approached you, that’s different. What did the letter say?”

“Dunno, stuff about how she liked me. And how she liked to play rough.”

“Jesus, mate!” Nick grabbed the photo. “Her address is on the back.” He gulped the cocktail. “If you don’t call, I sure will.”

“Who you harassing now?” A stranger in a black T-shirt and jeans sidled up, beer in one hand, other hand anchored in his coin pocket. He looked like the bad guy in a spaghetti western waiting to draw his six-shooter.

Following him were three other guys who stood around the table.

Geoff didn’t like being crowded. He put his head down, grabbed the photo back from Nick and put it in his pocket, not wanting any trouble.

“Luke. Great to see you.” Nick stood up and slapped his friend on the shoulder. “Hey, Badger, Gazza, Carrot, remember my cousin?”

They all sat down, cramping the small table.

“Geoff, remember Luke Platt? Used to live up the coast. Thought we could have a bit of a reunion, like the good old days back in Fisherman’s Bay.”

Geoff refused to acknowledge them, but had already sized up the visitors. Prison had taught him to check men out to see how dangerous they were. Luke—average height, weight, athletic. Pigeon-toed, too. Could be a good runner. Barry Lerner—Badger—had a head like a busted toilet, looked like a boxer with his cauliflower ears and had the build for it, too. At least that’s what his cellmate would have said about the “new boys.”

They both looked familiar, but neither had ever been a friend.

Gazza used to work in the mines and he was the sort of guy you wouldn’t look twice at, the kind who stood with his arms crossed to make himself seem bigger. Carrot—red hair, freckles; used to be a dickhead when he worked in the boat shed. By the way he sat down with a dopey grin on his face, he still was.

“How’s it going?” Luke held out a hand to shake.

“It’s past dinnertime.” The table scored another divot.

“Don’t mind him,” Nick explained, “he’s got the shits because a girl from the local Vinnies shop gave him the brush-off.”

A plate of steak and chips arrived, along with a bowl of pasta.

“Thanks, darling,” Gazza said, winking at the bargirl.

Geoff noticed her face and smiled. “Are you Pat? You look just like Daisy in
The Dukes of Hazzard.
She’s really pretty.”

The young girl blushed and grinned while she rearranged the salt and pepper shakers. “No, I’m Maddie.”

“Well, mate.” Luke stood up. “I better be off. If the wife asks, I was at work late again. All right?” He stood up, scraping the floor with his chair. “It’s the only way I get a leave-pass these days.”

Nick started on the spaghetti. “No worries. Thought a baby on the way would give her something else to focus on.”

“Hell, with these pregnancy hormones, she’s a mess. Suddenly she wants me there all the time when I’m not at work. Even worse, she’s obsessed with washing everything—curtains, floors, clothes. I can’t even fart without her wanting to clean up the smell.”

Nick laughed. “She’s nesting.”

Badger chimed in, “You’re under the thumb, mate. Have been from the moment she got her hooks in. You ought to show her who’s boss.”

“It’s not that easy. Marriage is like living with your mum.”

Geoff looked up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Nick licked some sauce from his upper lip. “Nothing. Mate, he didn’t mean anything. Want another coffee?”

“No.” Geoff put down his knife and fork and thought about the girl in the picture. She was pretty. Long dark hair, big brown eyes and bright red lips. Then he had to take another piss.

Luke tapped his fingers on the table and leaned over Nick.

“Aren’t you supposed to be keeping an eye on your cousin? After what he did to that girl, aren’t you worried he might just cut up another one?”

“That was a long time ago. He was just a kid himself, and Eileen Randall was a fucking bitch to him. She had it coming.”

“He’s never been the full quid, and he sure as hell is weird. Look at the way he reacted when I made a crack about my mum.”

Nick nodded. “I know, but he’s paid for what he did.”

“All I know is I wouldn’t want him hanging around my sister.”

“Badger’s bad news with women but we let him hang around.”

A couple of tables away, voices got louder. The pair turned to see Geoff, head down, blocked by a group of men.

“I’m talking to you. Hey, aren’t you that fucking child-killer? The one who’s been on all the news?”

Geoff clenched both fists by his sides and sidestepped back to his seat at the table.

“What’s this? A meeting of the child-fuckers’ union?”

Luke spoke first. “We don’t want trouble. We were just leaving.”

“I haven’t finished my dinner,” Nick said.

“You have now.” The angry one tipped the remainder of the meal on Geoff’s head. Deftly, Geoff seized the man’s outstretched arm with one hand and threw Nick’s drink in his face. The man reeled, grabbing his eyes, as Geoff leapt to his feet.

The other men at the table stepped back. Badger landed a right-cross on the guy with the drink in his eyes. Someone knocked Luke to the floor and he felt a foot connect with his side, just as a bouncer intervened, grabbing the kicker in a headlock. Nick was standing between Geoff and another man who was being held back by a second security guy.

“Break it up,” said a loud voice. The gawking crowd dispersed.

On the floor, Luke realized his father’s crucifix was missing from his neck. He sat up and scanned the floor.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” The waitress bent down. In her palm was a large cross-shaped amulet and its chain.

“Your friend—the one with the big blue eyes—is cute,” she whispered. “I know what they say about him, but he looks so gentle.”

Beneath the amulet was a piece of paper with her phone number on it.

Luke, Geoff and Nick left the pub under security escort. They sat in silence on the way back to the Willards’ home. Geoff’s mother didn’t say a word as they came in.

Luke cornered Nick. “Can we have a quick word? Now you’re home safe, I’ve got to get going.”

“No worries.” Nick led his friend into the hallway.

Inside, Luke spoke quietly. “I know he’s your cousin, but you’ve got to watch him. That waitress thought he looked gentle after his chat-up Daisy Duke crap.”

“He can’t help the way he looks. Nature had to make up for his brain, I reckon. Besides, some girls just have a thing for guys who’ve been in prison.”

“Yeah, but he isn’t in jail any more. He’s out. And I reckon it’s only a matter of time before he hurts someone again.”

From the lounge room, Geoff called out, “Come quick.
Baywatch
is coming on. It’s the bit where they run real slow.”

Suddenly, they heard the crash of glass breaking. They rushed to see Lillian Willard lying on the floor, blood dripping from a gash on her head. A rock lay beside her. The window had been smashed from outside.

“Turn off the lights,” Nick commanded, “and the television!”

He knelt next to his aunt, who was breathing hard. “She needs a hospital.”