Nightmares
of
Caitlin Lockyer
DEMELZA CARLTON
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to Johanna.
Never underestimate the power of dreams.
Especially when they follow you to the toilet.
Copyright © 2012 Demelza Carlton
Lost Plot Press
All rights reserved.
Contents
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
Part 11
Part 12
Part 13
Part 14
Part 15
Part 16
Part 17
Part 18
Part 19
Part 20
Part 21
Part 22
Part 23
Part 24
Part 25
Part 26
Part 27
Part 28
Part 29
Part 30
Part 31
Part 32
Part 33
Part 34
Part 35
Part 36
Part 37
Part 38
Part 39
Part 40
Part 41
Part 42
Part 43
Part 44
Part 45
Part 46
Part 47
Part 48
Part 49
Part 50
Part 51
Part 52
Part 53
Part 54
Part 55
Part 56
Part 57
Part 58
Part 59
Part 60
Part 61
Part 62
Part 63
Part 64
Part 65
Part 66
Part 67
Part 68
Part 69
Part 70
Part 71
Part 72
Part 73
Part 74
Part 75
Part 76
Part 77
Part 78
Part 79
Part 80
Part 81
Part 82
Part 83
Part 84
Part 85
Part 86
Part 87
Part 88
Part 89
Part 90
Part 91
About the Author
1
They took her away from me.
I mumbled a protest through the haze of pain and exhaustion that had turned me into little more than a zombie. I'll never be able to watch a zombie movie again without remembering this night, I thought.
"It's all right – we have to move her somewhere else to take care of her. She's hurt worse than you," I was told. "We need to treat you, too. There's a gunshot wound in your shoulder."
I couldn't remember how long it had been since I'd last slept, so it took a few seconds to register what she'd said. Gunshot wound. My shoulder. Oh yeah, it hurt. I couldn't help her 'til that was sorted. Hospital staff would take care of her until I was okay.
The pain began to dull as a local anaesthetic took effect. I turned to look at the mess of blood my right shoulder had become. The smell of disinfectant jolted my brain out of sleep and most of the way to alertness. All that blood and it was barely more than a graze. A few stitches would sort that.
One of the hospital staff held a clipboard while she spoke to two police officers just out of earshot. She nodded, looked grim and came over. She started firing questions at me.
"Name?"
"Nathan Miller."
"What happened?"
"I was shot."
"By whom?"
"A homicidal lunatic with a gun and bad aim."
The next question came tersely. "Her name?"
"Caitlin Lockyer."
"What happened to her?"
"Looks like someone tried to kill her."
"Was that you?"
"No, it was the homicidal lunatic and his mates, for all I know."
"What's your relationship to her?"
"Friend." What the hell, I thought. She'd probably agree with that, for the moment, at least.
"There. Done." The nurse stitching up my shoulder was cheerful, glad to be finished with me. "Now I'll show you to your room – just overnight..."
"I want to see her."
"She's still in Emergency."
"I want to see her," I repeated.
"Only family are allowed. She's in a critical condition..."
"Which is why I want to see her."
"But you can't..."
"Take me to where she is, now."
Nurse Grim was reluctant, but Caitlin wasn't that far away. Instead of a normal Emergency Department curtained cubicle, they'd put her in the room for child patients, with cheerful pictures and mobiles on the ceiling. Small though she was, I hadn't made the mistake of thinking she was a child.
Nurse Grim stopped to speak in a low voice to an orderly outside. I accosted a nurse on her way out of Caitlin's room.
"How is she?"
"She's fighting us. Calls out for someone and tries to get up. We can't do anything for her unless she calms down."
I glanced inside and saw someone with a syringe, advancing on her. "Please – don't hurt her!" I blurted out.
The orderly blocked my path. "You're not family..."
"I'm the one she's calling for."
"You said your name was Nathan Miller, and..."
"But she doesn't know that." I pushed past him.
The syringe-wielding nurse stared at me, her mouth open. Caitlin struggled to sit up and grabbed the syringe from the distracted nurse. "Don't let them hurt me again!" For an instant, I saw her face. Her eyes had hell in them.
I approached her slowly, looking deep into her tortured eyes, avoiding looking at the injuries that caused her so much pain. "I'm here. We're in a hospital and they're trying to help you." I kept my voice calm and steady.
She sagged back against the bed as she took this in, her eyes never leaving mine. The syringe rolled across the floor as it slipped from her fingers.
"So... tired," she managed to say, "but... scared to sleep. What if... I wake up... you're gone and I'm still... there... with them?" She didn't look away, even as her eyes filled with tears. "Please."
"I'll be here. When you wake up I'll be here. Here, in hospital with you," I promised recklessly, forcing myself to smile as I reached to touch her hair.
"Thank you," she murmured, closing her eyes.
I waited until I was sure she was asleep before I said anything else. "You cut her hair off. She won't like that." Her long hair was now a short, dark cap that curled slightly around her ears.
"She didn't," came the nurse's voice behind me. "That must have been what woke her up. But we couldn't leave it – it was matted with blood and sand. We had to clean the wounds on her back. I've never seen so many ulcers, especially ones that bad. It's a good thing she's unconscious for this, because those must really hurt..."
She talked as she worked. I tried to keep my eyes firmly fixed on Caitlin's sleeping face, so I didn't see the extent of her injuries, but occasionally my eyes would stray to the subject of the nurse's running commentary. Every time I wanted to close my eyes in horror at the thought of what Caitlin had been through, but I didn't. Instead, I dragged my eyes back to her face.
When the nurse had finished with her now-cooperative patient, she said, "Now I'm taking
her up to her room..."
"And I'm taking you to yours," an orderly behind me chimed in.
"If you think you're taking us to separate rooms, you've got another thing coming."
"The police want you under guard..."
"And she won't feel safe without some sort of protection. We'll share."
As they wheeled her bed out, I followed, along with a police officer I hadn't noticed earlier.
"Can I have a word with you?" he asked abruptly.
I shrugged. My eyes were on Caitlin, asleep on the hospital bed.
"Look, you found an injured girl on a beach and got her to hospital, probably saving her life. That sort of thing can get you a medal. But there are a few suspicious things that just don't add up. You were walking down a beach in winter at 2 am. You got into the ambulance with her. She refused all medical assistance until you were there. There was a dead body on the beach, not far from where you found her, shot with the gun you were holding. And she was last seen three weeks ago, speaking to someone in a car just like yours."
I shrugged again. "Look, I've already told two different officers this, but I can tell you, too, if you like. I couldn't sleep so I went for a drive, then decided to take a walk on the beach. I saw a couple going for it near where I'd parked my car when I got back, so I decided to take a longer walk and come back a bit later.
"When I returned later, they were still there and I tried to keep my distance from them, but I heard her telling him to stop. When I gathered he wasn't stopping and she was getting increasingly upset about it, I went over and asked if they were all right.
"She asked me to help her and the guy told me to fuck off. He pulled a gun out and started waving it around and threatening me. I dived for the gun and got into a fight with him. I managed to knock the gun out of his hands and I didn't see where it landed.
"The next thing I knew, there were gunshots and I threw myself to the ground, but he didn't. She'd gotten hold of the gun and shot him. I'm lucky she didn't hit me, her aim was so bad.
"I told her that he wasn't going to hurt her again and tried to take the gun off her, but she wouldn't let go until I promised they wouldn't hurt her again. So I did."
I took a deep breath and went on.
"I rang an ambulance and waited with her. The police turned up, someone got mixed up and figured I was the one responsible, possibly because I was holding the gun.
"They let me carry her to the ambulance. Then one of your guys shot me, or tried to, but he only grazed me and managed to shoot her instead. The last thing she said before she passed out was, 'You promised...'" I gritted my teeth, remembering what she'd looked like as she said it. "I got in the ambulance because I was carrying her, I stayed because I'd been shot and I'd