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  My insides felt like collapsing and my head brimmed with a new brand of fear.

  Saul inched closer along the sofa. “Claudia, look at me.”

  I did. Those ridiculously, hypnotic eyes riveted me into place.

  “Sorry if that sounded a little direct, but I really want you to deal with this because I need your full concentration. I don’t do this alone. It’s not how I operate. I don’t go away, find the answers and bring them back to you. We do this together.” His voice was steadfast but assuring. “You and me, right to the end. Okay?”

  I was unconvinced how someone as emotionally rickety as me could assist someone as noticeably resourceful as Saul. I told him this.

  “You underestimate your abilities. Trust me.”

  I meekly nodded, still uncertain. “You said a couple of things,” I reminded him.

  “I did. The other thing, well… I don’t know what you know about me.”

  Very little, but enough to entrust you with my life.

  “I’m not the police, Claudia. I don’t live by their rules. In other words, I don’t do things in what you would term conventional. Some things may be a slight blurring of the lines. It doesn’t bother me but I just want you to be aware of it; it may bother you. However, it does help get results.”

  Results were what I needed. I would worry about the methods, if that ever arose, later. Once again, I indicated agreement. “Is that it? Do I now sign on some dotted line or something?”

  He chuckled. “Yes, that’s it and no… no dotted line necessary.” Saul stood to re-fill his mug and I welcomed the same.

  Once again, I marveled in the way he moved, so sinuous, so relaxed. I hastily looked away as he turned, handing me the refreshed mug. “What do you want me to do now?” I asked with more assertion.

  He settled again upon the sofa. “I want you to tell me everything, every detail, every thought, no matter how trivial it may sound. Okay?”

  I was hesitant at first, but once I began, I couldn’t stop. It was as if every word I spoke brought a fresh sense of exoneration. And the most ridiculous thing of all? I felt so strangely at ease with him. I had just met the man and yet I felt I had known him for much longer.

  I spoke of the mysterious cards I received every year. I spoke of Alice Polinski’s murder, her surprising knowledge of me and the card she gave me that night. I spoke of my Nonno and his worrying revelations. I spoke of my brother Milo and his vague statements. And finally, I spoke of my parents’ odd reactions.

  All the while Saul sat silently, listening, never once interrupting.

  “Are you always like this?” I asked.

  A crooked raise of his eyebrow. “What’s that?”

  “The way you listen with such… I don’t know… such self-control.”

  “Does it make you feel uncomfortable?”

  “No, not at all. It’s just that most men couldn’t help but butt in.”

  He shrugged. “Possibly, but I get the impression you’re really avoiding what you’re about to say next.”

  His observation threw me; more so because he was correct. “I knew Alice Polinski.”

  He didn’t appear surprised. “And?”

  “And, well… it’s from where I know her… knew her that is completely strange. You’ll think I’m crazy.”

  “I doubt that. So, where did you know her from?”

  I twirled the mug in my hands and took a deep breath. “The dreams. She’s the woman in the dreams.” I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to witness Saul’s face in case the expression there wasn’t altogether complimentary. “I’ve had them since childhood.”

  I felt the soft touch of his hand. It was as warm as his voice. “Claudia, tell me about these dreams.”

  And I did. And as before, he paid attention to every word. “I had one today… here.”

  “And you believe the woman on the staircase is Alice Polinski?”

  “Yes. She’s much younger of course but it’s her eyes, her manner. It’s definitely her. It just doesn’t make any sense.”

  Saul drifted into silence. He then stood and moved towards his desk. There, he jimmied the mouse of his laptop. “On the contrary,” he said, concentrating on the wide screen. “It’d probably make a whole heap of sense if you look at it from a different angle.”

  I swung my body to face him fully. “What do you mean?”

  “Haven’t you ever considered it unusual that your dreams contain so many similarities?”

  “Of course, I have. But I was never entirely sure what it meant.”

  “And your parents? Weren’t they concerned?” He had turned and was staring directly at me.

  “My father encouraged me to forget about them, that they would probably disappear in due course.”

  Saul seemed amazed. “But they didn’t.”

  “No. Not completely. They lessened a bit, particularly when I left Nankari, but since Alice Polinski, they’ve become intense again.”

  Saul leaned against his desk and crossed his arms. “Were these the same dreams that were associated with your PTSD?”

  Shit! I felt as if someone had just socked me in the ribs. After Simon, I had been diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, which lasted several, horrible and very painful months. I inhaled sharply. “How did you know?”

  “Not important right now. So were they?”

  Unable to find my voice, I nodded.

  “But your PTSD doesn’t explain why you’ve had them since childhood.”

  “I know. I tried to tell the psychiatrist that, Dr. Cruikshank was his name, but he ignored it.”

  “Not very professional.”

  I rolled my eyes. I had thought the same. “I think because they’d strengthened to such a degree at the time, he included them as one of the symptoms; I’m not sure.” I paused, recalling that in the end I didn’t even care. “What do you think the dreams mean?”

  “Could possibly be your mind’s way of recalling something.”

  “A memory?” I had already begun toying with the idea. Recognizing Alice Polinski, in addition to my family’s reaction to her, appeared too coincidental. “If it is a memory, then why keep it a secret from me? And why don’t I remember it properly?”

  “Not sure, Claudia, but I’m guessing the obvious.”

  “Which is what?”

  “That something happened to you as a child, something unpleasant enough for you to forget, and if I’m right, I presume your family doesn’t want you remembering either.”

  I took time to absorb this, until a ghastly thought hit me. “But that would mean,” I barely whispered, “that whoever shot Alice Polinski….”

  Chapter 13

  Claudia

  December 26, 2010

  2:25 pm

  MY CHEST CAVED.

  Was the poor woman dead because of something I knew? Something that my own family didn’t want me remembering? Worse still, could they have had anything to do with Alice’s death? I searched for other explanations, but they seemed as tenuous as my sanity.

  “It’s just a theory,” Saul said, with a definite look of concern. “But understand, we aren’t dealing with a fairy tale here.”

  Weren’t fairy tales synonymous with happy endings? The idea that my own tale wouldn’t result in such a conclusion, only rattled me further. Regardless, I drew in a huge breath and told Saul I was fine.

  He watched me for a few seconds then turned to his laptop. “There’s something I want you to listen to. It might give credibility to that memory theory.”

  I hoisted myself up, hoped my jerkiness wasn’t too noticeable and made my way to Saul. He offered me his chair. I gladly obliged and sank into its firm but luxurious seating. His desk was wide and like everything else, perfectly ordered and just as opulent.

  A small snow globe, filled with white sprinkled fir trees, sparkly winged fairies, and other tiny, mythical creatures caught my curiosity. Boldly imprinted on a bronze plate was its title, The Magic Forest. It was so quaint, so child
-like, so incongruous to the man near me.

  And I wondered to whom it had once belonged.

  “Have you ever heard of a Charles Smith?” Saul was half-seated against his desk. His towering height made me feel uncharacteristically small.

  “No, never. Am I supposed to?”

  “I don’t know. What about a man called Colt?”

  I shook my head.

  “A Senator Macey?”

  “The Minister for Environment?” Him, I did know. “He’s a huge campaigner for the anti-gun laws.”

  “Do you know him?”

  “Not personally, no.”

  Something troubling muddied his face. Saul bent down to grab the mouse. He was so close to me now. I could hear his soft, rhythmical breathing, smell the same pleasant, earthy cologne as his jacket. “Ready for this?” he said.

  I nodded, although I was doubtful that I was.

  What followed was a recorded conversation between the Senator and a person called Colt. I listened, feeling a little bewildered as to how it connected to my own situation, until it reached a certain part.

  “Do you think Claudia Cabriati has remembered?”

  I instantly stiffened. “This is crazy.”

  Saul was scrutinizing me again.

  “Believe me,” I said, staring right back at him, “I do not know these men.”

  A second more of scrutinizing and then, “I do believe you. But they obviously know you.”

  More secrets. I began to feel irritated, felt it burn my already hot cheeks. “And I guess this Charles Smith knows me too?” I couldn’t help the added sarcasm.

  It turned out he did. And then Saul told a story about some crazy e-mails, about Charles Smith, about a Thomas Bellante… about me. For a short time, it left me drop-jawed speechless. I could’ve asked Saul how he knew of the e-mails but I had other, more important questions. “Wh… what did this Smith want done to me?” I tried not to second-guess the options.

  “I was hoping you could tell me.”

  I had no idea and said as much. Saul rubbed the back of his neck appearing disappointed.

  “When did you say these e-mails were sent?” I asked.

  “Just over a year ago, the same day Thomas Bellante disappeared.”

  Shit! I swallowed hard, gripped onto the armrests and flopped back into the chair like some mindless, raggedy doll. “You think the two incidents are related?”

  Saul shrugged a very non-committal shrug. “Hard to say for certain. But the timing, you being the common factor is pretty questionable.”

  I pressed my sorry body further into the seat, wished I had a musk stick or two on hand.

  “Tell me your thoughts,” Saul murmured.

  My thoughts? Attempting to unravel that menagerie of madness was challenging; to extract one intelligible concept was almost impossible. Frustration was mounting, control was crashing and what Saul now thought seemed inconsequential.

  I turned to him. “You want my thoughts? Good luck. Can you even understand the state of play between my ears right now? It’s like feral rats breeding in there.” I said it with a little more ferocity than necessary. However, I felt better for my outburst.

  Saul threw his head down and chuckled.

  “You may laugh.”

  He apologized. It sounded sincere, but I still made out the amused sparkles in his eyes. “Let’s just stay focused on one thing at a time, okay?”

  I happily agreed. “So, there’s something I know but can’t remember.”

  “Any idea of such a thing, something just a little off… unusual?”

  Again, I searched my memory, but it came up as blank as the now sleeping laptop screen. “If the dreams are a memory, then the hallway, the door, actually do exist somewhere.”

  “That’s a strong possibility.”

  It was too farfetched to believe. Yet, in some peculiar way, it made sense. “That would mean Alice was a part of this place and most likely so was I.”

  “Again, a strong possibility.”

  “And again, something I don’t remember.”

  From his high-perched stance, Saul watched me with a growing frown. “Tell me about being watched, of being followed?”

  I spun him a sharp, dumbfounded look. Who the shit was this man?

  “I gather from your reaction that I’ve hit a nerve?”

  He gathered correctly. I just gathered myself.

  I explained my earlier years, the odd sensation of figures watching me, settling down once I left Nankari, only to return when I did, over a year ago. I explained the psychiatrist’s assessment. Just another symptom of your Post-Traumatic Stress, he had said. But I knew it was shit, as was the whole dream debacle. I had told the psychiatrist as much. But, again, he refused to listen.

  “So there was more than one figure?” Saul questioned.

  “Don’t know.” I was thankful that Saul didn’t discount the story, as had the psychiatrist. “But I felt it many times, and after I returned to Nankari, the figures appeared different.” Saul asked how but I couldn’t explain with any factual clarity. “I always got the impression they were well covered.”

  Saul rubbed his fingers hard against his temple.

  “I’m not being very helpful.”

  “It’s okay.”

  But I didn’t feel it was. I had the sudden urge to stretch my stiff, rankled muscles. I stood and wandered over to the glass doors. Outside there was a wide, light-colored timber deck edged with a matching railing. A small butcherbird was skipping along the top of the railing. It stopped and swung its head, eyeballed me for a brief moment then flew off into the blue, cloudless horizon. I sighed, felt some of my tension fly with it.

  Saul was near; I could feel him. “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Are you really serious with that question?”

  He dropped his head and grinned. “Sorry. Guess it’s a lot to take in.”

  We stood there, silent, still, taking in the miraculous scenery. “You have to understand, Saul,” I eventually whispered, “after… well, after Simon.”

  I glanced at my ring, wriggled my fingers. The diamond instantly snatched the bright, inflowing sunlight, causing faint, rainbow colors to sparkle from it. A recognizable twinge pierced my heart.

  “After Simon,” Saul encouraged. There was much kindness in the way he said it; I left thinking he already knew about my fiancé.

  I continued. “I came back to Nankari, and when I did my head was a little crazy for a while. I didn’t know what to think, even how to. Sadly, for the most part, I didn’t even care.” I closed my eyes for a second, taking stock before confessing the next part. “And, well, as with everything that causes me pain, I shoved it away. I’m very good at that… compartmentalizing.” I said it with great disdain. “It sounds weak, but it makes managing my life easier.”

  He moved in closer, his earthy scents strengthening. “It’s not weak. It’s just your mechanism for coping and you’ve certainly had enough cause to do that.”

  I liked what he said. “How did you know about the watchers?” I asked.

  Saul sighed deeply, hooked his thumbs into the pocket of his light blue jeans. “Because, there was someone watching you at The Local, the night Alice was shot.”

  I felt as if an earthquake had struck Nankari but I was the only one experiencing the aftershocks. For a second time, I could’ve dwelled on just how Saul knew this, but my main concern laid in my next question. “Do you know who?”

  Saul shook his head. “The person was well concealed, a black leather-like jacket….”

  “… and a matching black hood.” My legs threatened to fail me and I swore. I quickly returned to the sofa collapsing into its sturdy corner. And there, I thought about the identically dressed person in the school car park, the same fateful day as Alice, thought about how I had been correct in my suspicions of him. I wasn’t sure if I felt good about that or not. I heard a slow, swoosh next to me, felt the sofa shift.

  “How did you know about the hood?
” Saul said.

  I knotted my fingers and then related the car park incident to him. “All this time,” I concluded, “these watchers weren’t something in my head.”

  “Definitely not on that day.”

  Why was I shocked at this discovery? Hadn’t I always believed the watchers were real? Perhaps it was now the certainty of their existence that I found so unsettling. “But Papa kept insisting it was just my imagination.”

  “I find that odd, Claudia, particularly these days with all the ‘stranger danger’ stuff.”

  Stranger danger?

  It then hit me hard and fast. And I wondered why it hadn’t before.

  Papa’s incongruent behavior.

  His perpetual, almost fearful lectures about never entering strangers’ cars, his blasé, often-humorous responses to my own claims of watchful figures. So what did this mean?

  If it meant anything at all.

  I pushed onward. “That probably explains Muscle Man’s whacky behavior.”

  “Muscle Man?”

  I told Saul about the overly cocky, flirtatious man at The Local. A distinctly pained grimace appeared on Saul’s face. Maybe it was due to my whacky reference.

  “And you didn’t recognize anyone?”

  “No. I feel as if I should’ve now.”

  We both followed with a reflective silence until I ended it. “I assume there’s more to this recorded chit chat between the Senator and Colt.”

  My assumption was correct. I steeled myself for further shocks as Saul returned to his laptop, sat in his chair and restarted the recording. I wasn’t to be disappointed. Not with Colt accusing Macey of Alice’s death and the Senator’s rapid denial.

  I remained surprisingly composed.

  “The man in your car,” Saul said. “Was an Anthony Iacovelli.”

  I had never heard of him and said so.

  “He went by another name, Patrick Colt.”

  The connection wasn’t lost on me. “I see why you said this is far more complex than it first seemed. Any idea why he was killed, and why in my car?”

  Saul’s no was absolute.