Not Forgotten (10 page)

She heard the weariness in his voice as he answered. “No. It feels like I’m going around in circles and every time my phone rings I fear it’s someone telling me there’s been another murder, another woman I couldn’t save.”

“It wouldn’t be your fault, Matt. No one could blame you for not trying. You’ve practically worked yourself to the bone to catch him, and you will catch him. I have faith that you will.”

“I hope you’re right, Natalie.”

She shivered when he said her name. It sounded so intimate. She sat down on her bed and got comfortable, taking another sip of tea. Natalie imagined him on his own bed. Her mind had him on his back, staring up at the ceiling, maybe with his arm beneath his head. It had her wishing she could crawl up beside him and wondered what it would be like for him to hold her in his arms.

Natalie felt an ache in her heart that was almost painful. Longing. A need to reach out and connect with another human being. She was tired of silent houses and a cold bed. She hated feeling so hollow, so alone.

“Don’t put too much pressure on yourself. Even the toughest elements can crack.”

“Are you saying you think I’m tough?” he asked, amusement in his tone.

“Yes. Tough. Kind. Courteous. Caring. All words I associate with you.”

There was a moment of silence at the other end, then, “I hope I don’t disappoint you.”

Natalie switched off the bed side lamp, casting the room into darkness before snuggling beneath the blankets. She imagined him beside her, his voice sending little sparks along her nerve endings.

“You could never disappoint me.”

“I’m a man. It’s completely possible. In fact, probable.”

She laughed and felt the last bit of tension from Derek’s transformation leave her. He did that. Matt Murphy. The man with the emerald eyes and kind heart that felt too much. She was surprised he didn’t buckle from the weight he carried on his shoulders.

Natalie wanted nothing more than to reach out and help carry the load. That was when she vowed to help him wherever and with whatever she could. Natalie wasn’t sure when the conversation shifted to music, books, and personal preferences but when she yawned she realised they’d been on the phone for over an hour. She enjoyed talking to him and if her eyes weren’t so heavy and threatening to close on her she would’ve continued long into the night. They said their goodbyes and reluctantly she hung up.

Natalie fell asleep almost immediately and dreamed of the gorgeous detective.

Chapter 10

Detective Senior Sergeant
Dean Matthews couldn’t wait to finish his shift. His arse was dragging against the ground so hard he had carpet burn. The entire Detective Unit was working the Butcher case, hard. The Boss, Superintendent Alec Harris, was hell bent on bringing in the man. Who could blame him? Everyone in the LAC wanted him behind bars.

He had spent the first half of his shift tracing down useless leads that had led nowhere and during his most frustrating moment, a call had come in about a service station robbery. Since he and Donovan were the only detectives on call, they had hauled arse down to the servo and had examined the crime scene. It hadn’t taken them long to track down the robbers. The idiots hadn’t noticed or maybe hadn’t cared about the CCTV cameras all over the property, capturing not only the robbery but also the license plate on the getaway car.

They hadn’t even tried to hide, returning home to count their brief winnings. It had taken less than an hour for him and Donovan to locate the address and rock up at the house. Now back at his desk, he rubbed his face, trying to draw out the tiredness he was experiencing. He gulped his lukewarm coffee, a drop missing his lips and landing on his lemon-meringue coloured shirt. He grabbed a tissue and wiped at the splash.

“Yep, there’s the end of that shirt, Matthews. No getting coffee stains out of that,” Donovan said cheerfully as she placed her sunglasses down over her eyes. “The glare is bad enough alone without it being worn by a man, even a good-looking one at that.”

Dean grinned. “Good-looking, huh? Why don’t we discuss that further over drinks?”

The scowl he got back made had him widening his grin.

“Just try it, Matthews, and I’ll make sure you can’t have kids
ever
.”

And she would too, he knew, which made her even more scary and entertaining. The entire LAC were always laying their shit on her just to watch her get her back up. But they had learned fast that if they dished it out they had better be prepared to get it back tenfold. Amelia Donovan was no wall-flower.

They all knew she’d had a hard childhood, growing up in the rough part of town—Dick Coleani’s side of town. He was a big crime boss in Harbour Bay and while not in the scope of the mob or even the Morans, he had quite the empire and was involved in every shady deal going down.

While Donovan had escaped the life of a druggie or stripper like most in that neighbourhood grew up to be, she still sported the attitude of someone who had to work harder than the rest to get where she was and let everyone know she was determined to do great things. Which of course she would and they all knew one day they would be calling her Boss.

She was the unofficial ‘wife’ of all the detectives, laying out orders and expecting them to be followed—and now, not yesterday, not tomorrow or a week from Sunday,
now
. The moment she moved in they had all felt the iron fist circling them and cutting off any freedom and pleasure they had left.

He smiled. How could he not? She was so fresh, so real it was hard not to like her. Sure he knew there were some out there, crooks mainly who would like to see the back of Detective Inspector Amelia Donovan but he was looking forward to seeing her in management. She wasn’t going to be an arse-kissing bureaucrat, but instead tell them how it was going to be.

“You know you love me, Donovan. Besides, I thought you and me were going to be making babies together. I can’t give you a Dean Junior if you take away the family jewels.”

She sent him a stony look and he waited for it. After a second she cracked a smile before scolding him.

“You wish you could get some of me. But sorry, I only save myself for the best.”

“What, the ones that last more than thirty seconds? You’re setting your sights too high.”

She pitched her well-used stress ball at him and he caught it easily. Her dark hair was still pulled back neatly in a ponytail and he wondered how she kept it so tidy. His dishwater blond hair looked like he had stood under a Boeing 747 during take-off.

Dean thought back to earlier in the evening and the incident that had made his night. It had been when one of the robbers had tried to escape. Amelia had chased him barely five feet before she’d tackled him to the ground and cuffed him, shoving his head into the loose gravel beneath him. When she had jerked him to his feet a few small pieces had dropped back to the ground from his face and Dean had hid a smirk. As Amelia approached him with her catch, he had spoken up, his hip resting casually against the car as he waited patiently with his own moron for her.

“Tackled by a girl.” He shook his head and clucked his tongue before Amelia stuffed her catch into the backseat of their car. As he climbed in and turned the key he continued. “That’s got to be embarrassing. I wouldn’t know about that, but you do. So tell me pal, was it embarrassing?” he taunted.

“Kiss my arse, man,” the punk sneered.

“Oh, you’ll have plenty of offers for that where you’re going,” Dean told him and beside him Amelia chuckled.

Out of the five detectives who worked the Harbour Bay Detective Unit, he liked being partnered with Donovan the most, although he usually got saddled with Nick Doyle, the consummate joker. He appreciated Donovan’s approach and they worked well together.

While Amelia wasn’t tall by his and the other male detectives standards, she was strong and could tackle any one of them easy. What she lacked in size she made up with brawn. As they say, dynamite comes in small packages.

The collar certainly hadn’t been worth his or Amelia’s time or that of the LAC but a crime was a crime and they had a job to do, no matter who the culprit.

After they had dropped off their thieves to their cell, he and Amelia had returned to their desks to finish up their shifts. The rest of the night had proved uneventful. Amelia consulted with the media about informing the public to be vigilant during this time, for women in particular not to go out alone and to walk in sets of two or more, as well as to call crime stoppers or the LAC if they see anything or anybody suspicious. After that she had fielded calls from every idiot in the city who believed their creepy neighbour to be the Butcher.

Dean watched as she made a gun with her hand and pretended to shoot herself during a call. The next one, she mimed hanging herself and the one after that she tried to strangle the caller. Dutifully she recorded each call, jotting down any that deserved follow-up, but he knew from her expression none had come close.

Matt came to stand behind her as he entered the
Pig Pen
and looked over her shoulder. Amelia scowled at him, her beautiful face looking fierce and deadly.

“I wouldn’t test her this morning Matt. She’ll probably scratch your eyes out,” Dean warned him. It annoyed him that Matt looked clean and fresh, his own shirt now rumpled with multiple coffee stains marking the fabric that would have to be dry-cleaned.

Matt grinned at him as if he knew what he was thinking and he probably did. Over the years they had worked so closely they often knew what the other one thought or was about to do. In their line of work it was imperative to get along well with your co-workers.

“What? That time of the month is it, Donovan?” Matt asked innocently and quickly jumped out of the way before she could hit him or worse shoot him.

Dean shook his head sadly. “I warned you.”

“Yeah, you did,” Matt said as a stress ball hit the back of his head.

Where the hell did she get all these stress balls? She was always throwing them at one or all of them during her shift and whenever she did that, they confiscated the offending item but she still came up with another next time. He wondered if the officers in Occupational Health and Safety were forever giving her the balls in hope her temper might die down.

Tough luck, boys
, he thought. She was a Capricorn.

“So what are you doing today?”

Matt reached down and picked up the blue squishy ball and gently tossed it to Dean who placed it into his desk drawer, adding it to his collection of already thrown balls. As he closed his drawer the wheels screeched against the runner that grated on his nerves.

“Just checking in before I go over to Paradise Valley.”

Dean nodded.

“How’s the doctor doing with the girl, any advances?” Amelia asked, her curiosity peaked. He had advised them all of Hallie’s previous lack of cooperation.

“So far so good. Natalie keeps reading Hallie’s statement to her in hopes of uncovering some latent memory. But the kid is stubborn, more so than you, Donovan, if you can believe it.”

Amelia’s eyebrow rose enquiringly. “Natalie, is it?”

Matt frowned. “Huh?”

“Since when has Doctor Miller become Natalie?” she asked, her shrewd eyes studying him.

“Since last night,” he said stonily. Dean sent Amelia a look. Matt let out an exasperated breath, obviously realising how his last statement had sounded. “We talked on the phone about the case,” he added, too quickly. “We’re just working together, nothing more.”

Amelia recovered first. “Better be careful, Matt.”

At the same time, Dean said, “You better know what you’re doing.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Matt defended.

Yet. Dean read the intention clear as anything on Matt’s face. The doctor wasn’t just a passing fancy, a one-nighter to relieve tension. Matt, he thought, had fallen hard. Shit. The moment one of them went the happily ever after route the rest of them would be expected—if not pressured—to follow suit. Happy couples always wanted more couples around them and he foresaw many blind dates in his future.

Dean shuddered. “You’re smitten,” he accused.

Amelia nodded, backing him up.

Matt glared at them both. “My relationship with Natalie, Doctor Miller, is strictly professional and will remain so. I’ll be on my mobile,” he informed them before stalking out of the room.

Dean turned to Amelia. “What do you think?”

“He’s on his way to picking out china patterns.”

Damn. That’s what he thought too.

Chapter 11

At nine-thirty the next morning, Natalie pulled her Prius into the visitor’s car park of Paradise Valley. She gathered up her files and note pad and climbed out of her car. She looked about the near-empty lot and up at Paradise Valley, which despite its name didn’t look at all like paradise.

The structure itself was huge, housing patients not just from Harbour Bay but the surrounding areas as well. The exterior was made of pale cream bricks and looked just like what it was—a hospital for less than stable individuals or a prison. Once a mental institution before the government closed them down it was still referred to as such by the locals and was the last of its kind in the country. The security fence around the property was less than inviting and certainly a deterrent for anyone with the delusion of escape.

The hospital was monitored by CCTV cameras and several unobtrusive security guards. The grounds surrounding the hospital were vast, allowing incarcerated inmates some degree of freedom. Not much had changed since her internship here many years ago, Natalie thought as she made her way to the front door and entered the building.

She had been thinking of becoming a psychologist to people like Hallie until she had chosen the private sector instead of working for the government. She had never once looked back on her decision and now she knew without a doubt she had chosen the better option. She liked variety in her work and the ability to pick and choose her patients, as well as her hours.

Paradise Valley smelled of disinfectants and the normal hospital scents that reminded her the occupants within weren’t well. Today she was dressed in a plum skirt and a sky blue blouse. Her hair was pulled lightly back from her face in a loose bun. The heels of her pumps tapped loudly against the floor as she walked and the nurse behind the reception desk looked up from her computer at the sound and smiled.

Natalie greeted her politely and made the obligatory small talk as she filled in the mandatory visitor paperwork. She pinned her official pass to her clothes as she stifled a yawn. After falling blissfully asleep with the delectable Matt Murphy on her mind, her dream had changed for the worse and she had tossed and turned most of the night as she relived the terror she had felt when Derek had hit her. She had awoken, twisted in her sheets and spent the rest of the night reviewing everything Derek had said and done, trying to decipher what she had missed. She still wasn’t enlightened and felt like a complete failure. How was she expected to help others when she had missed Derek’s flaws even though they’d been right in front of her?

After plastering a generous layer of concealer under her eyes and packing on the foundation over the slight discolouration on her cheek, she didn’t look too bad. She sure wasn’t going to win any beauty competitions but neither was she looking like she had gone a round with Mike Tyson.

Hallie looked up as Natalie opened the door. She was once again sitting at the table in the stark white room, only this time she had crayons and paper in front of her and was in the middle of sketching out a drawing.

“You came back.”

Natalie looked down at Hallie. The pain in her amber eyes ate away at her insides. “I told you I would. I know it is hard but you need to start trusting me, Hallie. I will not abandon you.”

Natalie took the seat across from Hallie. She slid the drawing across the table so she could look at it. The picture was like the others, done in black crayon, and Natalie looked over at the various colours Hallie could have chosen. Was it an artistic choice or one of perception? Did Hallie see the world as a cold and dark place? Natalie wouldn’t be surprised if she did. She had no reason to believe otherwise.

“You’re quite talented. Does it help to sketch out your feelings, putting them to paper?”

“I guess. Do you really believe I’ll ever leave this place?” Hallie asked, her shrewd eyes studying Natalie.

“I do. I have enormous faith in you, Hallie. It can’t be easy to relive such an event. I know you think I’m being hard or unfair on you because I push you, but I only want the best for you.”

Hallie leaned back in her chair. “I’m surprised you turned up. I wasn’t expecting you to, even though you promised…and after last time.”

When she had lost her temper and lashed out violently, Natalie recalled. She had purposely incited the response from the teenager in order to confirm her suspicions.

“I don’t know why I become so enraged,” Hallie confided softly.

Hallie looked scared, concerned for her mental health as she stared down at the table. Natalie reached out and placed her hand over Hallie’s smaller one. It was cold to the touch. The girl jumped and her eyes rose to lock onto Natalie’s. Confusion, mistrust, hope, and fear all lingered in her youthful gaze.

“It’s called PTSD. Do you know what that is?”

“That’s what soldiers get sometimes after they return home from war, isn’t it?” Hallie replied, a frown on her face.

Natalie nodded. “Yes. Very good.”

“But I don’t understand what that’s got to do with me. And why I get so angry.”

“That just part of Post-Traumatic Stress. Anger occurs when the body is overwhelmed and unable to cope. You’re fighting it now but in time, with patience, acceptance, and repetition, I’ll be able to treat you,” Natalie explained.

“Just like that?” Hallie sounded dubious.

Natalie smiled. “Nothing is fixed overnight but yes, it’s treatable. You’ll of course need counselling for years to come. But that can be provided to you as an outpatient.”

Natalie looked forward to the day Hallie Walker stepped out of Paradise Valley and into the sun. She would shine so brightly. It was merely a matter of time, she thought. She was already improving. Natalie knew Hallie saw no differences in her demeanour but over the last few sessions she had changed considerably.

“You’re going to keep your promise, right? They’ll not release me until he’s caught?”

Natalie looked over at the scared teenager sitting across from her. Her heart ached. What she felt for Hallie was beyond the professional. Hallie meant more to her than any other patient she had ever treated. Usually she didn’t allow her personal emotions to become involved, but with Hallie she hadn’t a choice. A feeling so deep seated in her subconscious that she didn’t understand but embraced fully. Maybe it was because they both shared a violent past or maybe simply because Hallie had endured so much, yet still went on. Natalie envied her. She was strength and courage and had fought harder than anyone she had ever known—herself included.

“Or until you say otherwise. It’ll be your decision. You’re in control,” Natalie said.

Hallie laughed, the sound falling flat. “I don’t feel in control of anything.”

“Which is why I brought you these.” Natalie pulled a thick folder from her large white purse and placed it on the table between them and took a deep breath, unsure of the reaction she was going to get. “Your parents’ police file. I thought you could look at it objectively. I believe it will help you move past the fear and allow you some closure.”

She had gone into work early that morning to make a copy for Hallie who now stared at the file as if it was poison. Natalie placed a palm flat against the manila folder in front of her.

“You don’t have to, Hallie,” she told her patient who continued to stare at the file beneath her hand with trepidation. “No one will make you. But try to take it one page at a time. Allow the facts to wash over you without emotion. If it gets too much you can just put it down.”

Hallie licked her dry lips. “I’m not sure I can do it.”

“You are a brave woman, Hallie. You just have to have confidence in your own abilities.”

“Do you?”

“Have confidence in my abilities or yours?”

Hallie shrugged.

“I do. Yours and mine. You have overcome so much in your short life that the only thing you can do is succeed.”

“Thank you. I do value your help and guidance. I’m not always appreciative and can be a downright pain in the arse. But you sticking with me means a whole hell of a lot.”

“You’re welcome. You remind me a lot of myself in my younger years,” Natalie revealed. “Things weren’t always easy for me either, granted you had it a lot harder than me. But we’re fighters, you and I, and we will get through this together. I’m not going anywhere. Have faith in that.”

Hallie’s eyes filled with tears and spilled over on her cheeks. Her slender shoulders shook as she cried. Natalie jumped up and hugged Hallie tight, her arms reaching around protectively and instinctively. She rocked Hallie, comforting the teenager in such raw pain. How long had it been for Hallie to have someone show affection for her? It had been Natalie’s experience that the hospital nurses weren’t the nurturing types and her heart ached. She wanted to shower Hallie with all the love the girl should’ve gotten from her parents.

As she soothed Hallie, Natalie looked down again at the picture Hallie had drawn. It was of her parents. Ian and Missy Walker were all smiles and Natalie could see much of Hallie in Ian. She clearly favoured her father.

Natalie soon found herself staring down at the picture, her eyes narrowed and her mind elsewhere. She thought of other drawings done in black crayon. Her brow furrowed as she fought to find something locked within her mind, something she had noted and filed away for further assessment at a later date. When it suddenly came to her she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it before.

“Who is Helen Teller?”

Hallie drew away and looked at the picture Natalie held.

“I don’t know. Why?”

“Because you drew her grave once, long ago,” Natalie answered.

She opened the file containing Hallie’s Paradise Valley information that Matt had given her and retrieved the drawings and laid them out for Hallie to see.

Hallie sucked in a breath at the vivid and detailed sketches. Even done in black and white it was hard not to see the blood clearly depicted on the paper. She reached out and flicked through them tentatively, studying each piece as if she’d never seen them before.

“I drew these? I don’t remember,” she said. “They look so horrible, so terrifying.”

“These pictures are nothing but your subconscious trying to make sense of what happened. It’s therapeutic. The first step in healing.”

Hallie nodded and reached the last picture and stared down at the grave.

“Helen Teller,” she read and frowned. “I really don’t remember drawing this and I don’t know a Helen Teller. Do you think maybe she was a friend of my parents?”

“It’s more than possible.”

“I’m sorry. If it’s inside my head, it’s locked away far enough that I can’t retrieve it.”

Natalie smiled reassuringly and squeezed her shoulder. “It’s all right. I’ll have Matt, Detective Murphy, look into it. If Helen Teller lived, he’ll find her and what she meant to you and your parents,” Natalie vowed and Hallie smirked. “What?”

“Matt, huh? Do you have a thing for our detective, Doctor?” Hallie asked as only a teenager could.

“I don’t think it’s appropriate for us to be discussing this,” Natalie told her, hoping to close the conversation.

“So, can I take that as a yes? He’s quite good looking, isn’t he? I believe the word is ‘hunk,’” Hallie said with a devilish smile and a twinkle in her eye.

“Yes, the word is ‘hunk,’” Natalie conceded and realised she enjoyed talking to Hallie this way. The anger and rage was gone and a jesting, smiling girl emerged. It was a glorious sight to see. So this was Hallie Walker, the real Hallie Walker, and Natalie was glad. She was a pleasure to finally meet.

“You should go for him. Life is too short to hang back. Believe me. If anyone should know, I do.”

A knock on the door startled Natalie and she and Hallie turned towards it.

***

Matt entered the
room and stopped when he caught sight of the identical looks gracing the two beautiful faces in front of him. He became even more intrigued as they both flushed. They were up to something. Both women wore expressions he’d seen often enough on his mother and sister’s faces. He guessed they’d been discussing him and he wondered at the context.

“Detective Murphy, please join us,” Natalie said as she sat back down in her seat. Gone was the surprised and guilty look, her face now serene and professional.

“Thank you.”

He took the empty seat beside her and felt her leg pressed against his. He’d had some very vivid dreams about those legs. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind and after last night he felt closer to her than ever. Closer than he had any other woman. He hadn’t felt so relaxed since the start of the investigation and that was because of her. He was surprised at how easy it had been to talk to her about everything. He’d enjoyed listening to her talk and laugh and even when she had sounded so tired, he hadn’t wanted to suggest they hang up.

He’d been with women before, but none held a candle to Natalie. He wasn’t sure why he felt so drawn to her, only that he did. She made him feel weak and strong at the same time. He forced away all thoughts of Natalie, which was extremely difficult as her floral perfume—a combination of vanilla and gardenias—tickled his nose as he sat so close to her. Close enough that should he stretch out his hand out, he could lay it on her thigh. He squeezed his eyes shut against imagining how it would feel. He clenched his jaw and thought about what he was doing there. When he opened them again he was composed.