Blood Born Read online

  Mr. Brody blinked his eyes and nodded.

  He wrote again. BEFORE WE MARRIED.

  “Is this man still alive?”

  He nodded again.

  So William Brody knew the mother had a relationship before him, and married her anyway, perpetuating the story that they were both first loves.

  “You don’t have to answer, but your son will want to know. If the baby was buried in your home, you must have been there when it was born…”

  The old gentleman touched Anya’s shoulder and tried to mouth something. Words would not come. The pain and frustration in his eyes were obvious.

  A breeze picked up some leaves and whirled them in a circle.

  “Some say love has no beginning and no end,” she ventured. “You must have loved Therese a lot to marry her, knowing she was pregnant by another man.”

  He clawed the pen and tapped the pad for her to hold. JUDGE HIM, NOT HER. SHE LOVED ME. He scribbled over the word JUDGE and circled LOVED ME.

  “I don’t doubt that. You look very happy in the photo, like soul mates.” Anya wanted to be supportive. This man had buried his life partner, then lost his ability to walk, talk and stay in the home they had made together.

  He brushed Anya’s chin with his hand before adding the words: DAN LUCKY.

  She felt the heat in her face and neck. “No, no. We’re just friends, we work together sometimes. And don’t worry, Ben’s my son. We’re not going to spring anything else on you.”

  More scribbling followed.

  DAN IDIOT.

  Anya found herself laughing and a smile unravelled across the healthier side of William’s face. She could see how handsome and vibrant he would have been in his youth. This was a good man.

  “I think Therese was one very lucky woman.”

  Dan lurched down the ramp and Ben trotted behind, finishing off an ice-cream cup with a tiny wooden spatula. Half of the contents were smeared on his face. Sister Gillespie followed.

  “Not getting burned out here, are we? Don’t want to prematurely age that peaches and cream complexion of ours.”

  Mr. Brody looked up at her and rolled his eyes at Anya, then smiled again.

  “Who’s that gorgeous-looking man in the wedding photo?” The nurse helped herself to the framed image. “You were a bit of all right in your day, and so was your bride. She was stunning.”

  With that, the picture was back in Mr. Brody’s lap and the chair had been turned around.

  Anya checked her watch. It was nearing five, probably dinnertime for the residents.

  “We should go, it’s getting late and I have to get Ben packed up,” she said. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Brody.”

  The old man doffed his cap and reached out with his hand.

  “Would you mind if I came back some time to visit?”

  He squeezed her fingers tightly. In any form of language, that was a definite yes.

  They all said goodbye and then left the way they had come in.

  Ben folded himself into the back seat again and Anya made sure he was strapped in securely. Dan paced around before getting in. Once on the road, he accelerated and braked, jerking the car with every gear change. Still jetlagged from the trip, Ben quickly dozed off, much to Anya’s relief.

  “Would you like to talk about it?” she said, unsure whether she should leave him to brood.

  “It’s just that they lied to me all these years. Mum has an affair, gets pregnant and they don’t think to mention it?”

  “Will you be proud to tell your children about every woman you ever slept with?” As soon as the words were out, she regretted them.

  Dan pulled over to the side of the road.

  “I get it, but this isn’t just a fling. She had a baby, then buried it. For all we know, she could have murdered it, or Dad did out of anger at what she did.”

  Anya realized they hadn’t asked how the baby had died. That, she thought, would be better asked without Ben or Dan around. “We know the baby had a tumor and was unlikely to have been born alive.”

  Dan placed his forehead on the steering wheel. “Unlikely doesn’t mean it was stillborn.”

  “Your father said it was before they were married, so she hardly betrayed him. What are you so angry about really?” He had spoken about his mother as if she were a saint. “Is this because your mother wasn’t ‘pure’ when she married your father?”

  Dan turned his head and Anya recognized the flash of guilt. “Oh my God, that’s it, isn’t it? That’s what has you so churned up. Not what was in the box, but your mother’s history.”

  Anya had never been so disappointed in a man. With all the sexual relationships the lawyer was reputed to have had, his double standard didn’t extend to those women, any of whom could be a mother one day. Even more annoying was that he wasn’t mature enough to see his own mother as a complete person with her own desires and needs.

  “That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said-”

  “Mummy,” Ben said sleepily from the back. “I don’t feel well.”

  Anya turned around just in time to see her son vomit curdled ice-cream across the Ferrari’s back seat.

  21

  “That’s my boy.” Kate laughed. “All over the back seat?”

  “It wasn’t funny!” Anya exclaimed. “You should have seen Dan’s face.”

  “What on earth were you doing going out with him anyway, and with Ben? Is there something going on you should tell me about?”

  “Nothing like that. It was just a favor to help him with his father. Ben was fine up until the trip back.”

  Kate’s laugh was infectious and Anya had to admit the incident was now funny, even to her. The owner of the Ferrari might take some time to feel the same way, though.

  “I can imagine the smell. What did Mr. Pompous do?”

  “His face pretty much said it all, but he was polite. I cleaned it up with wipes and he tried to help but, honestly, it was easier to do it myself. Ben was pretty upset.” Anya felt another laugh bubble up. “But he did feel better once he’d emptied his stomach…again…all over the place.”

  By the time Hayden Richards arrived at ICU, the pair were buckled over like schoolgirls. Neither saw him coming.

  “He must really have the hots for you,” Kate teased.

  “Is this a private conversation or can I join in?” Hayden hitched his trousers and raised an eyebrow.

  Anya cleared her throat and hoped her cheeks didn’t give away the embarrassment she was suddenly feeling.

  “Oh,” Kate said, “just a funny story involving Anya’s son. He’s a real little character.”

  Hayden frowned and glanced at an elderly couple walking past the unit, then spoke to Anya.

  “Sophie has asked for you to be with her for a further interview. You can tell us if her injuries are consistent with what she remembers.”

  Anya pressed the buzzer to the unit.

  “Audiovisual’s set up in a consulting room down the corridor, they’ll record everything again,” Hayden said. “We’ll need to get as much as we can from her, even if it takes all day with breaks in between.”

  Anya hoped the teenager was up to the stress. Reliving that night in minute detail wasn’t going to be easy. She entered the intensive care room alone first.

  Ned Goodwin wasn’t ready to hear every brutal detail of what had happened to his two daughters. He assured Sophie that he was going out for air but wouldn’t be far away if he was needed.

  With the neck wound far from healed, Sophie placed slight pressure on the bandage as she whispered, “I’m scared.”

  Anya pulled her chair closer. “That’s okay. Anything you remember is helpful, and if you want to stop for a while, just say so. Your wellbeing is the priority here, no matter what the police may like to think. And if it is too painful to remember or you need more time, tell us.”

  The patient pressed her neck again. “Thank you for being here.”

  Anya wasn’t sure why Sophie felt t
he connection, but she shared it too. The Saint Jude’s medal remained pinned to Sophie’s gown. The smallest of gestures made an enormous difference.

  “You’re in good hands.” She glanced at the shelves on the wall. “And look at all the beautiful flowers.”

  Tears welled in Sophie’s eyes and the breathing machine accelerated.

  “I know you didn’t ask for this, and we can’t change what happened.” Anya leaned forward; instinct told her the girl needed a hug, but she moved the fringe from Sophie’s eyes instead. Tears had changed them from gray to an almost bright blue.

  “I miss Rachel. Have to be brave for Dad.”

  This was too much to expect of a fourteen-year-old. Not only was Sophie still dealing with life-threatening injuries, she felt the need to support her father.

  “You have to grieve as well. He understands that and is trying to be brave for you.”

  The young girl seemed far more frail than at the first police interview. She buried her face into Anya’s shoulder and cried. It was no surprise the emotion was coming out. It had to. Physical healing was one thing. Emotional wounds took a lot longer.

  “People say I’m lucky…to be…alive.” She lifted her head and glanced around the room. “Strangers sent all this.” She paused for a couple more breaths. “I’m not lucky or grateful…Don’t understand why this happened.” More tears flowed. “Dad cries…when he thinks I’m asleep.”

  A torrent of pain, from that night and since, poured out of Sophie’s traumatized body. Anger was a large part of grieving, and she had every right to be angry.

  Nothing Anya said would make a difference right now, so she just held Sophie. Never good at meaningless platitudes, she was better at listening. Which was what this girl needed more than anything at this moment.

  “I should have died, not Rachel.”

  “You can’t think like that.”

  Anya pulled back and dabbed Sophie’s eyes with a tissue from a box on the bedside drawers.

  “No one understands.”

  Anya hesitated before deciding to explain why she understood part of what Sophie and her father were going through.

  “When I was five, my little sister was abducted by a stranger. She was never found, but I spent years feeling guilty that I wasn’t taken instead. I was supposed to be looking after her and didn’t.”

  Sophie’s eyes glistened as she listened.

  “I understand what it’s like to be the survivor. But there was absolutely nothing you could have done. It was out of your control, just like my sister was with me.” She brushed a strand of hair out of the young girl’s eye. “Your father is so grateful that you’re here. Do you think he’d be any less hurt if Rachel were in your place, or if you had both died?”

  She shook her head.

  They sat hugging for a few more minutes until a nurse checked to see if the police could come in. “Give us another minute,” Anya said, and wiped Sophie’s face with a damp facecloth.

  “You can do this later if you don’t feel up to it.”

  “If you stay…I’ll be all right.”

  “Deal, but remember what I said earlier. If you want to stop tell us.”

  Hayden Richards and Liz Gould entered and sat on vinyl chairs provided by the staff.

  A video camera was set up, and switched on by the cameraman before he left. The red light on the front glowed. Kate had opted to stay in the AV room, monitoring the recording. If anything else happened to Sophie-medical complications-it was important to have any evidence she gave on tape for potential jurors.

  Hayden began by announcing the date, time and location of the statement.

  Sophie sat with the bed more upright. If Anya hadn’t been present she never would have believed the degree of composure and maturity in someone so young.

  Hayden asked if she could describe what had happened the evening of the attack. They heard how Rachel had cooked dinner: lamb chops and mint sauce. Sophie had just cleaned up the kitchen and made two cups of tea before their favorite TV show, Home and Away, came on. As they sat down to watch, someone knocked on the front door.

  Rachel looked through the window and saw a car in the drive. She opened the door and the men just pushed inside. There were three of them. One just started yelling at her to get him the money.

  “Can you point to where exactly this was?” Hayden showed her a line map of her house. No crime scene photos were necessary.

  “There. The living room. The one yelling had a baseball bat and smashed the cups off the table. Rachel told me to run.” She spoke, head lowered. “I was too scared to move.”

  “Do you remember anything about the man with the bat?”

  “He was the one with the black mark on his chin. He was really angry and just kept shouting, ‘Tell us where the money is.’ Rachel kept saying we didn’t have any and begged them to leave us alone.”

  Sophie’s face became void of expression. “The one with the bat punched Rachel with his fist. She hit the wall, hard. He started shouting that he was going to kill us.”

  Liz Gould shifted slightly in her seat. “Was Rachel conscious after she hit the wall?”

  Sophie licked her lips. Anya offered her a sip through the straw, which she took before answering.

  “I think she was dazed. I reached for her handbag, which was next to the lounge. She had twenty bucks. But that’s when the one near me hit me hard in the head. My ears started ringing. Rachel told them we didn’t have much money. They wouldn’t listen.”

  Liz asked, “Did they mention anything that you can remember, guns, cars, drugs or places? Or call each other by names?”

  “Not that I remember. We don’t use drugs. We promised Mum before she died.”

  “Did Rachel have a boyfriend?” So far, the police had no motive.

  “Only one since school.” The breathing machine was becoming less noticeable. “They broke up after Mum died. She loved hairdressing and was too tired to go out with anyone after work.” A small smile appeared. “She said nagging me about homework and the phone bill was more fun than a boyfriend.”

  Liz commented, “She sounds like a pretty good big sister.”

  Sophie thought for a moment. “Sometimes she was a pain but so was I.”

  Rachel Goodwin and Savannah Harbourn came from different worlds, but cared the same way for their younger siblings. Anya shuddered to think that Gary Harbourn and his brothers had hurt both of them so much.

  “What happened next?” Liz asked.

  “The one with the bat grabbed her by the hair. It was pretty long, she had a weave done at work…She squealed as he dragged her into the bedroom. One came over to me with a knife and told me to shut up and stay still. He said I was next. I started crying. I begged them not to hurt us.”

  “Do you remember anything special about the man with the knife?”

  “He was sweating a lot and wiping his face with his sleeve. He had a cap on. I didn’t see his hair or eyes.”

  “Where were the other two?”

  “They went in the bedroom and closed the door.”

  Sophie looked down and her shoulders tightened. The breathing machine accelerated, along with rises on the heart rate and blood pressure monitor.

  “Take your time,” Anya offered. “If you need a break…”

  Sophie shook her head, closed her eyes and spoke.

  “I could hear Rachel crying and someone yelling. The room was getting dark. It felt like hours. Then Rachel screamed really loudly. It sounded like she was in so much pain. After that, she didn’t make any more noise.”

  Anya felt a cold wave across her skin. Sophie was describing the moment when her sister had been stabbed and killed.

  “What happened after that?” Liz asked gently.

  Sophie touched the intravenous drip taped to the back of her hand.

  “Two of them came out and the one who had the bat had blood all over his clothes and hands.”

  “Was he holding a knife?”

  A pause.r />
  “I don’t know. I didn’t see it until after the other one starting swearing and screaming, ‘Why did you have to do it? Mum’s going to skin us.’ The other one must have still been in Rachel’s room.

  “The man with the mole told him to shut up, that we could have fingered them. That’s when I tried to run for the door but someone grabbed me and slammed me into the wall.”

  She pointed to the diagram in her lap. “That was here. I hit my back and couldn’t breathe. The others came out and held me down. The one with the mole told one to pull my jeans off. I tried to fight, but they were too strong. It really hurt but he wouldn’t stop. Then one of the others raped me. That’s when I saw the knife, in my face. I knew they were going to kill me, just like Rachel.”

  Sophie faltered and asked for another drink of water. Anya held the cup and felt the tension in the room. No one wanted to put a victim this young through further trauma, but it had to be done, and it might even help Sophie deal with what had happened to her.

  “You’re doing really well, take your time,” Anya encouraged.

  “After they finished, they let me go. I tried to pull up my jeans, but the one with the mole grabbed the knife and I felt pain in my stomach. I tried to protect myself. But there was more pain in my chest. It was worse. I rolled over and saw blood on the floor. Then I held my breath and pretended to be dead, like when we were kids.”

  The detectives looked at each other.

  “What did they do?”

  Sophie closed her eyes and seemed exhausted. The monitor’s readings had slowed.

  Liz and Hayden remained perfectly still, knowing what came next.

  “Someone said to leave me, that I was dead anyway. I didn’t look but heard the footsteps going to the front door. Then someone came back, pulled my head up by my hair, and said, ‘This is how you make sure there are no witnesses.’

  “I saw the knife flash and heard something tear. I didn’t know my throat was cut until I woke up in here.”

  Anya signaled to the detectives to end the interview. Without hesitation, Hayden stood, announced the time and turned off the camera. After the others had left the room Sophie dozed off and Anya stroked her hair for a couple of minutes.