Nightmares of Caitlin Lockyer by Demelza Carlton
dishes around in the sink. I was more than happy to avoid the kitchen until Chris was out of it, but Caitlin insisted she wanted to speak to her. I grabbed the wet towels to hang them outside, telling Caitlin she could call me in if she needed anything. So I was outside with a clear view into the kitchen when she walked in.
Chris couldn't miss Caitlin entering the kitchen this time, a beacon of glowing white as the bright sunlight touched her t-shirt, but my sister didn't let on. Caitlin turned the kettle on and began hunting through the cupboards.
"He's not even making you breakfast?" Chris said suddenly over her shoulder, not looking at Caitlin.
Caitlin glanced at her, then looked away. "No, I talked him out of it."
She stared at her in surprise. "How did you manage that? It's difficult to talk him out of anything."
Caitlin laughed, her face lighting up in that irresistible way she had. "Difficult? He's as stubborn as a mule!"
Chris broke into a smile. "Well, yes." She laughed, too.
Caitlin stuck out her hand. "I'm Caitlin. Nathan seemed too preoccupied to introduce me before." Though she tried to hide it, her hand still hurt her and I saw her wince as the pressure of Chris's handshake bordered on painful.
"I'm Chris, his sister, as you've probably already been told." She saw the look on Caitlin's face. "Shit, are you all right?"
"No, but I will be one day," Caitlin said pleasantly as she pulled her hand away.
At that, Chris pushed Caitlin down onto one of the chairs and made coffee for her.
When Caitlin protested, Chris said bluntly, "It still hurts you to walk, doesn't it?"
"Not as much as it did at first, but it still does, a bit," she admitted reluctantly. My heart constricted in my chest – she tried so hard not to let the pain show, but I knew.
"Does he even know?" Chris said, half under her breath. "Look, I don't know what you've been through, what they've done to you or anything. Just don't assume he's some kind of Prince Charming because he rescued you. He's nowhere near perfect – he'll probably just end up hurting you, breaking your heart. He's good at that." She sounded bitter.
I frowned. What in hell did she know about broken hearts? I'd never hurt anyone. I'd never hurt Caitlin...
"Do you think badly of me for staying last night?" Caitlin asked her quietly.
"No, it's him –" she broke off, then passionately began again. "What you want to do is your business, and you're not the first." Caitlin tried to say something, but Chris went on. "Not the first girl he's ever brought home, I mean. He'd come in late, not alone, and she'd be gone by morning. I've never seen – or heard – the same girl twice, except when they called to try to get in contact with him again."
I hid my smile. Alanna used to deal with those phone calls – some mad girls I'd slept with, who thought we had a future, though I'd made it perfectly clear there wouldn't be one. I was just that good in bed that they wanted more. It wasn't my fault they weren't up to par. Alanna used to give me an earful about it afterwards. Maybe Chris had heard it once or twice.
"It's been a long time since he brought anyone home, but I'd have thought he'd know better than to seduce you, or play on what he did for you – after all you've been through, you don't need him to hurt you as well!" Chris looked fiercely at me outside and I pretended to be very busy with the towels.
Chris sat down at the table by Caitlin, handing her a coffee. There was silence for a few minutes while they both drank.
Caitlin broke it. "I'm the same age as you. He told me about you, so I knew." When? When had I told her about Chris?
"Just don't let him hurt you," Chris repeated, staring at Caitlin as though she could see bruises. Oh hell, was there a mark where the needle went in? Was she looking at her fingers? I could've sworn the swelling had gone down...
Preoccupied, I didn't notice that Caitlin had been silent, her head bowed. "He said he never wanted to see me hurt." Her voice shook.
When I'd said that, she'd been unconscious in hospital. What else was she remembering? This could only end in tears. I swore and headed inside.
Chris had pushed a box of tissues across the table to her, but Caitlin hadn't noticed. The tears just kept on coming.
I took one look at Caitlin's face and dropped to my knees next to her, arms around her, letting her cry against me.
"What did you say to her?" I demanded of Chris.
"I... I don't know." She sounded puzzled, and I looked up to see her staring at Caitlin, a look of astonishment on her face.
Caitlin stretched her arm out to take a tissue and used it. "I don't think I want breakfast any more. I want to go home."
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"I'll be right," Caitlin said fiercely, to herself as much as to us.
83
Caitlin unlocked the front door and turned to me, pressing her lips briefly against my cheek. "See you tonight for dinner?"
I stopped dead. "Don't you want me to stay with you?"
She shrugged. "I'll probably just be writing more of my memories down and doing some washing. Maybe catch up on the sleep I missed out on last night." Her smile was enough to remind me of things that were better than sleep. "I feel bad that I take up so much of your time. Like the rest of your life is on hold for me."
Right now, her safety was my life. Nothing was more important to me.
I'd sound like a real idiot if I said it, though, so I smiled and said, "I definitely don't mind. Are you sure, though? I mean, what will you do if the last of the bastards come for you while I'm not here?"
Her surprise made me feel stupid. "Call the police, of course, like you did last time. After all, they were so efficient. I'm sure they'd be just as helpful again."
The police did fuck-all last time – that was us. I tried to find a way of saying it inoffensively, but came up blank before I realised that she didn't know – and I had to keep it that way. "I'm sure they will," I said, summoning a smile. "You know my number if you need me, too. So, dinner?"
Caitlin looked relieved. "Dinner. See you tonight."
She left me standing on the doorstep as she shut the door. Feeling stupid, I trudged back to my car.
After a few minutes' driving, I still didn't know where to go or what to do. On Saturday, Chris would still be home and I definitely wanted to avoid my sister today. My job was to protect Caitlin as much as she'd permit, so I didn't have work to do after she'd dismissed me for the day. My life was on hold while I protected hers, and I wouldn't get my life back until it was over.
I wasn't stupid enough to think it could go back to what it was, no matter how much I wished for it. Before Mum and Dad made names for themselves as successful investment advisers in Dubai. It sounded so simple – telling a wealthy investor that if he invested his money in businesses known to support terrorist activity, he'd lose it. It wasn't that simple, of course, as Dad had explained on his last visit.
"For our advice to mean anything, we have to know which businesses support violent extremist activity and demonstrate with extensive data the resulting losses," he'd said, lining up his points like ducks crossing a road. "With the numbers to back us up from Marion's PhD project and the glowing reviews of satisfied customers, it was just a matter of the right introductions..."
Alanna had laughed at him as she shook her head. Her laugh had been deeper than Caitlin's – more a throaty chuckle, I remembered fondly. "But Dad – you're forgetting that violent extremists use religion as their basis for action. Aren't the businessmen anxious to save their souls by investing in a religious cause?"
Dad's laugh had matched hers – maybe the last time it ever would. "The successful ones are more concerned with the state of their bank balance than that of their soul – plus they feel that taking money from people in the West is revenge enough."
He'd explained how he'd speak to the men and Mum would sound out the women, for wealthy wives had money to invest, too. If they hadn't been so successful, maybe Alanna would still be alive.
&nb
sp; One too many investors had stopped giving money to some group who decided they didn't like their funding drying up. They hadn't gone after Mum and Dad – they'd threatened their children. A threat Mum and Dad had ignored.
"After all, you're all safe in Australia," Dad had laughed over Skype.
First Alanna disappeared. No word, no sign, nothing. Then the gory envelopes arrived at home, as I tried to hide them from Chris. She'd had final exams to focus on and so had I. She'd done well, of course. She'd channelled her worry into study and it showed.
Yet I'd failed, my thoughts on Alanna at the exams she should have attended with me.
Receiving the results of DNA tests, confirming the envelope contents were from Alanna. Grave-looking police officers, always offering sympathy as there was nothing else they could do that they hadn't already.
The message was clear – no one's safe, no matter how far away. Yet Dad said she'd turn up. Alanna always did, because she was so good, so perfect, a fighter to the last...
Mum and Dad refused to capitulate. Their business model was too good. There was too much money to be made in doing the right thing to give in to terrorists. The kidnappers would realise they had no choice but to release Alanna.
When are terrorists ever reasonable?
I got sick of the positive fucking spin. Endless repetition of, "Alanna will appear. She always does."
She did. The call came to my mobile, to come and identify her. I didn't tell Chris. I didn't call Mum or Dad, far away and far from concerned. I stood and
Chris couldn't miss Caitlin entering the kitchen this time, a beacon of glowing white as the bright sunlight touched her t-shirt, but my sister didn't let on. Caitlin turned the kettle on and began hunting through the cupboards.
"He's not even making you breakfast?" Chris said suddenly over her shoulder, not looking at Caitlin.
Caitlin glanced at her, then looked away. "No, I talked him out of it."
She stared at her in surprise. "How did you manage that? It's difficult to talk him out of anything."
Caitlin laughed, her face lighting up in that irresistible way she had. "Difficult? He's as stubborn as a mule!"
Chris broke into a smile. "Well, yes." She laughed, too.
Caitlin stuck out her hand. "I'm Caitlin. Nathan seemed too preoccupied to introduce me before." Though she tried to hide it, her hand still hurt her and I saw her wince as the pressure of Chris's handshake bordered on painful.
"I'm Chris, his sister, as you've probably already been told." She saw the look on Caitlin's face. "Shit, are you all right?"
"No, but I will be one day," Caitlin said pleasantly as she pulled her hand away.
At that, Chris pushed Caitlin down onto one of the chairs and made coffee for her.
When Caitlin protested, Chris said bluntly, "It still hurts you to walk, doesn't it?"
"Not as much as it did at first, but it still does, a bit," she admitted reluctantly. My heart constricted in my chest – she tried so hard not to let the pain show, but I knew.
"Does he even know?" Chris said, half under her breath. "Look, I don't know what you've been through, what they've done to you or anything. Just don't assume he's some kind of Prince Charming because he rescued you. He's nowhere near perfect – he'll probably just end up hurting you, breaking your heart. He's good at that." She sounded bitter.
I frowned. What in hell did she know about broken hearts? I'd never hurt anyone. I'd never hurt Caitlin...
"Do you think badly of me for staying last night?" Caitlin asked her quietly.
"No, it's him –" she broke off, then passionately began again. "What you want to do is your business, and you're not the first." Caitlin tried to say something, but Chris went on. "Not the first girl he's ever brought home, I mean. He'd come in late, not alone, and she'd be gone by morning. I've never seen – or heard – the same girl twice, except when they called to try to get in contact with him again."
I hid my smile. Alanna used to deal with those phone calls – some mad girls I'd slept with, who thought we had a future, though I'd made it perfectly clear there wouldn't be one. I was just that good in bed that they wanted more. It wasn't my fault they weren't up to par. Alanna used to give me an earful about it afterwards. Maybe Chris had heard it once or twice.
"It's been a long time since he brought anyone home, but I'd have thought he'd know better than to seduce you, or play on what he did for you – after all you've been through, you don't need him to hurt you as well!" Chris looked fiercely at me outside and I pretended to be very busy with the towels.
Chris sat down at the table by Caitlin, handing her a coffee. There was silence for a few minutes while they both drank.
Caitlin broke it. "I'm the same age as you. He told me about you, so I knew." When? When had I told her about Chris?
"Just don't let him hurt you," Chris repeated, staring at Caitlin as though she could see bruises. Oh hell, was there a mark where the needle went in? Was she looking at her fingers? I could've sworn the swelling had gone down...
Preoccupied, I didn't notice that Caitlin had been silent, her head bowed. "He said he never wanted to see me hurt." Her voice shook.
When I'd said that, she'd been unconscious in hospital. What else was she remembering? This could only end in tears. I swore and headed inside.
Chris had pushed a box of tissues across the table to her, but Caitlin hadn't noticed. The tears just kept on coming.
I took one look at Caitlin's face and dropped to my knees next to her, arms around her, letting her cry against me.
"What did you say to her?" I demanded of Chris.
"I... I don't know." She sounded puzzled, and I looked up to see her staring at Caitlin, a look of astonishment on her face.
Caitlin stretched her arm out to take a tissue and used it. "I don't think I want breakfast any more. I want to go home."
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"I'll be right," Caitlin said fiercely, to herself as much as to us.
83
Caitlin unlocked the front door and turned to me, pressing her lips briefly against my cheek. "See you tonight for dinner?"
I stopped dead. "Don't you want me to stay with you?"
She shrugged. "I'll probably just be writing more of my memories down and doing some washing. Maybe catch up on the sleep I missed out on last night." Her smile was enough to remind me of things that were better than sleep. "I feel bad that I take up so much of your time. Like the rest of your life is on hold for me."
Right now, her safety was my life. Nothing was more important to me.
I'd sound like a real idiot if I said it, though, so I smiled and said, "I definitely don't mind. Are you sure, though? I mean, what will you do if the last of the bastards come for you while I'm not here?"
Her surprise made me feel stupid. "Call the police, of course, like you did last time. After all, they were so efficient. I'm sure they'd be just as helpful again."
The police did fuck-all last time – that was us. I tried to find a way of saying it inoffensively, but came up blank before I realised that she didn't know – and I had to keep it that way. "I'm sure they will," I said, summoning a smile. "You know my number if you need me, too. So, dinner?"
Caitlin looked relieved. "Dinner. See you tonight."
She left me standing on the doorstep as she shut the door. Feeling stupid, I trudged back to my car.
After a few minutes' driving, I still didn't know where to go or what to do. On Saturday, Chris would still be home and I definitely wanted to avoid my sister today. My job was to protect Caitlin as much as she'd permit, so I didn't have work to do after she'd dismissed me for the day. My life was on hold while I protected hers, and I wouldn't get my life back until it was over.
I wasn't stupid enough to think it could go back to what it was, no matter how much I wished for it. Before Mum and Dad made names for themselves as successful investment advisers in Dubai. It sounded so simple – telling a wealthy investor that if he invested his money in businesses known to support terrorist activity, he'd lose it. It wasn't that simple, of course, as Dad had explained on his last visit.
"For our advice to mean anything, we have to know which businesses support violent extremist activity and demonstrate with extensive data the resulting losses," he'd said, lining up his points like ducks crossing a road. "With the numbers to back us up from Marion's PhD project and the glowing reviews of satisfied customers, it was just a matter of the right introductions..."
Alanna had laughed at him as she shook her head. Her laugh had been deeper than Caitlin's – more a throaty chuckle, I remembered fondly. "But Dad – you're forgetting that violent extremists use religion as their basis for action. Aren't the businessmen anxious to save their souls by investing in a religious cause?"
Dad's laugh had matched hers – maybe the last time it ever would. "The successful ones are more concerned with the state of their bank balance than that of their soul – plus they feel that taking money from people in the West is revenge enough."
He'd explained how he'd speak to the men and Mum would sound out the women, for wealthy wives had money to invest, too. If they hadn't been so successful, maybe Alanna would still be alive.
&nb
"After all, you're all safe in Australia," Dad had laughed over Skype.
First Alanna disappeared. No word, no sign, nothing. Then the gory envelopes arrived at home, as I tried to hide them from Chris. She'd had final exams to focus on and so had I. She'd done well, of course. She'd channelled her worry into study and it showed.
Yet I'd failed, my thoughts on Alanna at the exams she should have attended with me.
Receiving the results of DNA tests, confirming the envelope contents were from Alanna. Grave-looking police officers, always offering sympathy as there was nothing else they could do that they hadn't already.
The message was clear – no one's safe, no matter how far away. Yet Dad said she'd turn up. Alanna always did, because she was so good, so perfect, a fighter to the last...
Mum and Dad refused to capitulate. Their business model was too good. There was too much money to be made in doing the right thing to give in to terrorists. The kidnappers would realise they had no choice but to release Alanna.
When are terrorists ever reasonable?
I got sick of the positive fucking spin. Endless repetition of, "Alanna will appear. She always does."
She did. The call came to my mobile, to come and identify her. I didn't tell Chris. I didn't call Mum or Dad, far away and far from concerned. I stood and