Hindsight (9781921997211) (27 page)

I didn't find out any more until a cool spring day weeks later. Ed and I were sitting in a patch of sun out the back of our house. We were like a couple of old people, both of us tucked into comfortable chairs with rugs over our knees. Ed was sipping a cup of one of Gran's better-tasting herbal brews. He was a temporary fixture at our place. He hadn't been released from hospital until almost a week after I went home and even then the doctors would only let him go if there was someone around to look after him.

While he was in the hospital, we'd visited him every day. Mum and Gran thought he was a hero: he'd gone charging off to rescue me and almost died in the process. When Gran found out about his predicament there hadn't been any question about who was going to look after him. He was coming home and staying with us and there would be no arguments about it.

Phil and her partner wanted to take him in but their one-bedroom cottage wasn't big enough and neither of them could afford the time off work to look after him. It was us or a live-in nurse. Ed had put up feeble resistance but in the end he was no match for three determined women.

He'd been with us a week before he and I finally talked about what had happened that day. We'd been spending the afternoons in each other's company, reading, watching TV or sitting outside if the weather was good. We chatted about all sorts of things: our school days, books, friends, movies. We'd developed a comfortable, easy friendship.

I knew I had feelings for him that were a lot more than just friendly but I didn't have the energy to investigate them. The whole experience had left me emotionally fragile. I was still suffering the most horrendous nightmares and even the short trips out of the house to see him when he was still in hospital had left me in a state of nervous tension.

He'd talked about Susan a few times but he never asked me the one question he must have wanted answered more than anything. I knew he would ask when he was ready. When he finally did ask it took me by surprise. I was listening to him talk about a trip he and Susan had taken to Thailand; he had an amazing way of describing things. I was sitting back with my eyes closed, picturing the places he was describing when out it popped.

‘Did you see how Susan died?'

I sat there for a few seconds, not saying anything, trying to work out how to answer. I had rehearsed what to say so many times but the reality of it made those words seem wrong.

‘Cass?'

‘I heard you. I'm just trying to work out how to answer.'

‘Just tell me the truth,' he said. He reached over and took my hand. I opened my eyes and looked into his blue ones. There was a world of anguish in them and I knew that if I told him everything it was only going to make things worse.

‘Susan died from a lethal injection the killer gave her. It was quick.' That much was true anyway.

‘Was she frightened? Was she in pain?' The words came out of his mouth in a hoarse whisper.

‘Oh, Ed, I'm so sorry. Yes, she was scared and yes, she was in pain.'

‘Her eyes?'

‘Yes.'

He bowed his head and his shoulders started to shake silently. I reached out and wrapped my arms around him. We sat there like that for a long time while he cried. Mum stuck her head out of the door to check on us, saw what was happening and quietly went back inside.

Eventually he stopped crying and pulled away from me. We both sat there, staring out at the garden. Shadow was curled up in a pool of sunshine. A Murray magpie, one of a pair that had been residents in our garden for years, cheekily hopped past his nose, busy searching for food for its nest full of babies.

‘That bird has balls,' Ed muttered.

‘Not really, he knows how lazy Shadow is. That cat expects five-star service all the way. He hasn't caught anything since he was about eighteen months old.' I smiled as I said it but I was feeling pretty tense. There were questions I wanted to ask him as well. I wasn't sure if I should ask him now or not.

‘Go on then,' he said.

‘What?'

‘Ask me.'

‘You've been in this house for too long. You're starting to develop a talent of your own,' I said. It was uncanny how often he could read my mind. ‘I want to know what happened.'

And so he told me. He told me about his struggle with the killer. He told me how he'd seen the corpse called Ginny and he'd lost the plot, thinking it was Susan. He told me how he'd lain there on the floor, watching as the killer bent over me, unable to move, willing Phil to arrive. Finally he told me how he'd watched me wake up and start to scream.

‘You screamed over and over again. It was terrible, Cass. Were you having a vision?'

‘I was. I had three at the same time. It's never happened like that before.'

‘Well, the screaming freaked him out. He grabbed you to try to make you stop but then he just stood there.'

‘Why?'

‘I don't really know. The look on his face was like nothing I've ever seen.'

We both sat there in silence, pondering this.

‘Eventually you stopped screaming and then he just dropped to the floor, curled up in a ball and started to cry.'

‘He was crying?'

‘Yep. Cass, do you think maybe you somehow transferred the pain and fear that you were feeling to him when he touched you?'

I turned in my chair and stared at him. ‘You think that's what happened?'

‘I've thought about it so many times since that day and it's the only explanation that makes any sense to me.'

‘But no one has ever felt anything when I've been having a vision before,' I said. I didn't want to believe what he was telling me. It turned my talent from something that was isolating and hard to live with into something downright scary.

‘How often has someone touched you when you've been having a vision?'

‘I don't know. People tend to keep their distance.' I searched my memory. I wouldn't remember anyone touching me. During a vision I was totally oblivious to my surroundings; it made my talent dangerous, but surely someone would have said something before now if they'd touched me and felt something?

‘I didn't,' he said.

‘What? What do you mean?'

‘I grabbed you when you were experiencing Old Mick's death. I thought you were going to fall onto the road.'

‘And did you feel anything?'

‘Yeah, I guess I did. I felt a massive jolt of pain. It only lasted for a split second. I was too busy worrying about stopping you from falling into the path of a truck to really think about it. At the time I didn't think it was anything to do with you.'

I sat there, staring into space. I didn't want it to be true. Tears filled my eyes.

‘Cass?' Ed was looking at me, a worried frown on his face.

‘I'm a freak. I'm going to be one of those old spinsters who dies alone and gets eaten by her own cats.'

He reached out and grabbed my hand. He stroked it gently until I stopped crying then he turned it over and pressed a soft kiss onto my palm. Waves of shock and pleasure swept over me.

‘Not if I have anything to do with it,' he said.

ACKNOWLEDGMNETS

 

The person I need to thank first and foremost for encouraging me and giving me the belief that I could do anything if I put my mind to it is my Mum. Unfortunately she can't be here to see my first novel on the shelves, but I know wherever she is, she's watching and smiling. Thanks Mum, love always. You were my first inspiration.

I'd also like to thank my Dad for supporting me through my years of study. You also taught me the value of a good education, determination and perseverance, qualities that are endlessly valuable in the writing industry.

My next shout-out goes to my husband Peter who has enthusiastically cheered me along this journey all the way and put up with endless evenings of trying to talk to me and getting nothing but monosyllabic answers when I'm writing. Thanks Pete, you are my rock. I'm also grateful to my children Emma and Liam whose love and hugs mean more than they will know (until they have kids of their own).

Thanks also to my friend from the South Australian Police who patiently answered my questions and also gave me the idea for one of the scenes in this book – you know who you are and which scene I'm talking about!

The wonderful staff from the Professional Writing School at Adelaide's College of the Arts also deserve a mention. Thanks for teaching me some valuable skills and giving me lots of good advice that I am only now beginning to appreciate. Special thanks to Jane Turner-Goldsmith and Kirsty Brooks for their mentoring.

Now to the people whose talent and dedication have made it all come to life – the wonderful team at Pantera. Thank you Ali and John Green for taking a chance with me. Your hard work, enthusiasm and patience know no bounds. Thanks also to the wonderful editing, support and marketing team that works at and with Pantera to make it all happen; Kylie Mason, Desanka Vukelich, Graeme Jones, Karen Young, Luke Causby from Blue Cork, Andrew Dunbar and Georgie Dee. I hope this is the first of many books I work on with all of you.

 

Melanie Casey

If you like
Hindsight

then look out for

the next book in the Cass Lehman series

(coming in 2014)

CRAVEN

‘So what do you think? It's charming isn't it?'

The bright, chirpy voice of the real estate agent made me jump. I turned to look at the woman. She was quite attractive, or at least I imagined she was. It was hard to tell what she really looked like under an inch of artfully applied makeup. Her hair was a pale, winter blonde and her eyes were a pretty shade of blue. She was clutching the list of names she'd compiled during the open inspection in beautifully manicured hands, heavily laden with rings. I felt rumpled and scruffy. I tucked my hands with their chewed nails into my pockets.

‘Yes, the house is lovely, but a woman died in this bathroom?' I said.

The agent blinked in surprise; her well-practiced expression of happy confidence wavered. ‘Ah, yes, yes, there was an incident with the previous owners.'

‘An incident?' I steadily returned her gaze, refusing to let it go at that.

‘The woman who lived here had an accident in the bath,' she said.

‘You mean she was murdered by her husband.'

The agent's mouth fell open briefly before she managed to gather her wits. ‘No, I'm sorry, Miss …' she consulted her folder, ‘Lehman … I don't know who told you that but there was no murder. The woman pulled her hairdryer into the bath and was electrocuted. It was just a terrible accident …'

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MELANIE CASEY

Melanie Casey was born and lives in South Australia with her two young children and her husband (who didn't know he was marrying a writer when he walked down the aisle).

After studying English Literature and Classical Studies, Melanie shifted in to Law, and now works in government.

A chance meeting with a highschool English teacher in the supermarket made Melanie realise that she should be doing what she'd always loved, writing! Another period of study, this time at the Professional Writing School of Adelaide's College of the Arts ensued, helping Melanie to acquire the skills she needed to put her plan into action.

Hindsight
is her debut novel, and is the first in a series of crime novels featuring Cass Lehman and Detective Ed Dyson.