Afterlife of Alanna Miller Read online

  I shook my head. "If she'd told me anything, I'd have given in and started hunting for her long before now. I'd change my name and go into hiding, too, if I had to." His words started to sink in. "Hang on. She never met Mott. He visited her in hospital when she was unconscious, but never afterwards. I'd never have let that bastard anywhere near her!"

  He wouldn't meet my eyes. "She spoke to me privately when you weren't around, requesting a meeting with your superior. I made the arrangements and I drove her to the office and home again for both meetings. She spotted some inconsistencies in what he said, and told me she suspected he was corrupt. I dismissed it at first, figuring she was just a teenage kid with an overactive imagination, but some of the things she said rang some pretty loud alarm bells. Then I started to see him make mistakes, too. It took me four years to get enough evidence together to warrant an inquiry, and now he's dead, so we'll never know why he did it, or what else he knew." He laughed quietly. "I wonder if she knew. I'd love to ask her now."

  I hesitated, then ploughed ahead anyway. "If you find her, can you tell me? I just want to know that she's okay. It's killing me, not knowing."

  He shook his head and wouldn't meet my eyes. "Nathan, you know I can't do that. She's in witness protection for a reason, even if the official five years are up and she can let up on the secrecy now. She's not the sort to go splashing her photo on every social media channel she can find just because she can." He inhaled sharply, considering. "I'll tell you what. If we do find her and I get a chance to speak to her, I'll tell her that you wanted to know she was okay, and that you'd love to talk to her, but only if that's what she wants. It's not like you offered to go into hiding with her."

  "I would have if she'd asked me, or even wanted me," I whispered, more to myself than to him.

  He acted as if he hadn't heard. "See you later, mate."

  "Yeah, see you." I sighed, looking at the papers clenched in my hand. "Hey, if I come back to the office with you, can you witness these? Not like I'm going to tell anyone, anyway. Maybe the money will come in useful. My wing mirror's fallen off again and we need a new letterbox."

  He laughed. "You never change, do you? I bet you've never told your sister it's you crashing into the mailbox every other week, either."

  Shit, no. I wasn't telling Chris that. She'd get me labelled as an unsafe driver and try to get my licence revoked. I'd be cooped up at home with her forever and at the mercy of public transport with all the nutjobs on the train to and from work. And she thought I was crazy. Commuters were worse.

  SIX

  "I know something you won't miss about Melbourne," Jo said as she peered through the window.

  The packing tape made a tortured sound as I used it to seal another box. "What? The ever-changing weather?" I scrawled BOOKS across the top of the box with my marker, then decided to label the sides, too.

  "No. The commute to uni. Squeezed into a packed train carriage with all those crazed commuters, forcing yourself not to freak out at the sheer number of strangers touching you...I've seen your face on the train. It's like you're trying not to scream."

  I smiled wanly. Trying not to stab someone, actually. Five years and my skin still crawled if anyone touched me. Maybe I should have become a nun, not a doctor. No, I wouldn’t be allowed to carry a knife everywhere if I were a nun. Plus, there was the matter of having killed people..."I'll be able to walk to work now. I told you that apartment next to the hospital was a good investment."

  She stuck her tongue out. "I'm an accountant, not an investment adviser. But I still think you should've rented it out this year, before you moved in. Six months' rent is a lot of money to throw away..."

  Jo had wanted to be a vet, but she hadn't scored high enough in her final exams to get into the course, so she chose accounting instead. Who'd have guessed she could be more passionate about numbers than she was about puppies and kittens?

  It wasn't about the money. It was about having my own space that no one else had lived in or done things in. A place without a past so I could create my own future there. Of course, I picked Perth. After so much time away, I wanted to go home. With a new name, a new career and a whole new life...but it was home. Someone else's afterlife...haunting the place where I'd nearly died. It was fitting. Every time I looked at St Elsie's Hospital next door, I'd remember my time there as a patient and hopefully have more sympathy for my patients. Or go to pieces and be admitted to the psychiatric ward.

  No, I told myself. I was prepared to go back and face any demons that I hadn't slaughtered in the past. Given they were probably on their last legs after their last encounter with me, it'd be an act of mercy to put them out of their misery. Euthanasia, even, though that wasn't legal in Western Australia.

  A blurry hand waved before my eyes. "Hello? Are you even listening to me?"

  I shook my head. "Sorry, Jo. I should have been."

  "I hope you introduce me to him soon, because any man who can make you daydream that deeply has to be drool-worthy. I want to know his name, his bank balance and how many times in a night."

  "How many...?" My eyes widened as her hands eloquently described fast-paced sex. "None, Jo. If I'd slept with a man, I'd have told you."

  She sighed: the deep sort that said her heart ached for me. "It's been five years. No one can go that long without wanting sex. I know you got hurt, but you said you'd slept with that sleazy guy in Perth, which means you're hardly afraid of intimacy if you let him touch you. Now, I know you're not pining away for him, so why haven't you even flirted with anyone else?"

  Because I didn't want anyone to touch me. And when the man who'd saved your life several times over, risked his own life and his sanity, plus killed for you and stayed at your side until you recovered, thought he wasn't good enough for you, you begin to believe that no one will be. Why would I settle for a one-night stand with someone who wouldn't kill for me?

  Six years ago, I'd have told Jo all of this, but now I couldn't. After what happened, some stories were best left untold. And I'm not sure she'd look at me the same way if she knew about the people I'd killed, Even if they did deserve it.

  "I haven't met the right one," I replied curtly. "I'm looking for a hero who's not just Prince Charming."

  Jo grinned. "A knight in shining armour with awe-inspiring sword skills?" Her hands described the size and nature of his sword.

  "A knight, perhaps, but with dented armour and maybe scorch marks up the side, to show he's taken on an army and he'd walk through fire for me. A sword with a few nicks in it, so I know it's not just for show. And later, when we're alone, he'd take it all off and he'd make me feel like I was his whole world."

  She burst out laughing. "So, you're after Sir Perfect with experience? Men like that don't exist. You might get some of it, but not everything. Just as long as you don't settle for some sleazy bastard who fools you into thinking he's perfect, I guess."

  Not perfect. Just...a man who'd do what Nathan had for me. And more. A man who wouldn’t leave me to pursue a pipe dream. Yeah, a man who didn't exist.

  I heard the buzzing of the postman's motorbike and glanced out the window. He was just leaving our mailboxes. I jumped to my feet, swiping a hand across my face to hide the tears I hadn't managed to stop. "I'll go empty the letterbox. Be right back."

  I kept my eyes on the path beneath my feet, desperately trying to control my streaming eyes. Five years was enough to know a man didn't want me. It's not like he'd have trouble finding me – his agency had hidden me, after all. And they hunted terrorists, for God's sake. They'd track me down in a day.

  In between the inevitable junk mail, there was one official-looking letter addressed to me. I tore it open. Well, speak of the devil. It wasn't from Nathan, but it was from ASIO.

  I set the letter aside to look at later, when Jo had left. I didn't want to have to explain more than she could handle.

  "So why are you leaving for Sydney a week early? What are you going to do until the concert?" Jo asked, stacking up her
finished boxes. They were taller than me.

  I shrugged. "Does it matter? Go to Taronga Zoo a few times. Do all the meet-the-animals experiences, freak out at the emus walking around that are taller than I am, and check out the harbour views when I get tired of walking. Eat seafood at that restaurant in Darling Harbour we went to last time. I don't know. Just...be a tourist on holiday, I guess. For the first time in a while."

  She pulled herself up to sit on the edge of the dining table. "Promise me one thing." She paused for a response, but I wasn't doing it until I had more details. "Promise me you’ll go to a pub at least once and buy a drink. Give yourself a chance to meet people."

  I laughed and shook my head. "Hell no. After the lab on date rape drugs in pharmacology, I'm not sure I'll ever drink in a pub again. So many of them are odourless and tasteless and colourless and virtually undetectable. Some of them don’t even show up in your blood afterwards. And so many of them to remember. One was blue, one tasted like soap or salt, one turned a drink cloudy... It's enough to make me drink from a hip flask through sheer paranoia!"

  She shrugged. "Fine. Don't then. But you will have a glass of champagne with me in the VIP lounge at the Opera House before the concert. I won't let you get out of that."

  I smiled. "Of course. I wouldn't miss it. I've never been to a concert at the Sydney Opera House and it's meant to be spectacular."

  "Don't you wish you'd let the removalists pack for you? It feels like we've been doing this forever, but only half your house is packed up," she moaned, looking around.

  I grabbed the stack of newspaper on the dining table and dumped it on the kitchen counter. "Back to work, then. I'll wrap the glasses if you get the rest of my books, then we can go out for dinner."

  "Deal."

  SEVEN

  Better today than tomorrow, I told myself after Jo left. What were the chances of them finding me the day before I left this house for good?

  I breathed deeply as the phone rang, my eyes fixed on the letter though I'd memorised the words on it by now.

  "Hello, Australian Security and..."

  "Hello, my name is...Caitlin Lockyer," I said, wincing as I said the unfamiliar name aloud. It had been a long time since anyone had called me by my real name. "I received a letter today about an ex gratia payment and I'd like to discuss it."

  I wanted to ask if it was a joke. There were a lot of zeroes after the dollar sign in this letter and it seemed too good to be true.

  No amount of money could pay for my pain, but it sure could help to make me feel better about it afterwards.

  "Yes, Ms Lockyer. I'll put you through to Legal now...one moment, please."

  The phone rang again. I tapped my fingers in time to the tune in my head, a remnant of last night's rehearsal.

  "Hello, Mike Lawler speaking," a pleasant male voice answered.

  I took another deep breath. "Hi, my name is Caitlin Lockyer and I received a letter from your office."

  "Ah, Miss Lockyer. If you're concerned about the delay, I assure you our office did everything in their power to locate you, but the witness protection records were corrupted and we were unable to find information about your current name or address for quite some time. The delay was factored in when we calculated the sum in your letter." He cleared his throat.

  "So this isn't a joke?" I asked weakly. The sum he referred to was more than I'd received for my TV interview. It was more than people got when they were sent to jail for crimes they didn't commit. Wrongful imprisonment and more besides. They'd set a price on rape. My skin crawled at the very thought.

  "I assure you, ASIO's budget doesn't allow for jokes this expensive. After this incident, we'll be lucky if Treasury allows us a stationery budget before next year. We almost had a fight break out between two office girls over the last ream of printer paper." He coughed out what sounded like a laugh. "We'll be lucky if the government doesn't decide to cut their losses and privatise us next. But that's not your concern. Yours is to read through the offer and the conditions attached to it. If the offer meets with your approval, you need to sign it in the presence of a witness, get them to sign it, and send it back to us."

  I waited in silence for him to say more, but he didn't. After maybe half a minute, I chose to speak. "If this offer is genuine, then I do have some questions before I sign."

  "Ask away," Mike said.

  I hesitated. "This...media clause. The one that says I can't discuss past events with the media. You know that, in my line of work, media contact is inevitable."

  "But not as Caitlin Lockyer. Under your new name, any and all events that involve your new persona are excluded. It's detailed in the conditions down in...ah...fifteen...no, sixteen point three..." I heard him flick through pages – this old-school lawyer still preferred paper copy to electronic.

  I flipped to that section in my own papers and read it with some relief. "Then I'll have no issues signing it. I do have one more question, though." I paused, debating whether I should bother. But I wanted to know so much.

  "Ask away," Mike said again.

  "The...other...parties involved in this...incident. Were any other offers or payments made to other people for this?" I couldn't bring myself to say Nathan's name. His rejection still hurt, even five years later. He'd saved my life, set me well on the way to recovery, dedicated months of time to my wellbeing...and then walked away from my offer of more.

  "Miss Lockyer, due to the sensitive nature of this matter, I can't disclose information about any other offers or payments made in relation to yours." He sounded like he wanted to say more.

  "So there are other offers?" I pressed, crossing my fingers.

  A heavy sigh blew into his phone. "Yes. One other offer was made."

  "How much was it for? Did he accept it?" I burst out, dying to know. If I deserved compensation for what happened to me, so did Nathan. Duped by his boss and forced to do horrible things...

  "Miss Lockyer, I can't discuss the terms of someone else's offer or payment. He's not similarly constrained – I suggest you ask him." Mike cleared his throat. "Was there anything else?"

  Disappointment welled up like a sprinkler in my chest. I couldn't ask Nathan – he hadn't spoken to me for five years. "No," I mumbled.

  "Then, if the offer meets with your approval, sign the paperwork, have it witnessed and send it to the address detailed in your offer letter. Payment will be processed and you'll receive your cheque in a few weeks."

  We both said polite goodbyes and I hung up.

  I slumped to the kitchen table, wanting to cry or beat my head on its surface. I needed to discuss the offer with Nathan before I accepted it – needed to know he'd been compensated enough for the hell we'd been through. Nothing could pay for my pain – and his was greater than mine.

  EIGHT

  Writing this shit down helped Caitlin, so I guess it can't be that bad. I don't want to leave it anywhere Chris can find it, though, so I figured if I emailed it to you and deleted it off my computer, she'd never see it. And if you've found a way to check your email in the afterlife...I miss you, Alanna. Every damn day.

  Tonight I went to the morgue again. I was looking for you – I knew I was there to identify you. It smelled like formalin, just like the dissection labs at uni, and the cadavers seemed to be the only other people there. There was no one else – just me. No police or staff in scrubs. Sometimes they're there and sometimes they aren't. No idea why. But this time was different again.

  Until I got to the coolers where your body was stored. There must've been half a dozen of them crowded around you on an examination table, all wearing scrubs and not saying anything. Just staring and doing things to your body and you were fighting them and screaming. The smallest one had a knife between your legs and she was making incisions. They didn't bleed, of course, because from your blue skin I could tell you were dead, but you were still screaming. She was spelling out my name on your thigh – and I moved to get a better look and I realised she'd already written Chris's name
on your other leg. Carved into your skin just like Caitlin.

  There was another body on the other examination table – two tables, two bodies, but the other one was covered and ignored. And then it sat up and shoved the plastic sheet off and it was Caitlin. Her skin was as pale and bluish as yours, but her eyes had hell in them and she lifted up a gun. She shot the people around you, one by one, and they fell on the floor, blood oozing from the head shots. And then she slid off the table and walked over to you. She whispered something and touched your face and you reached up and touched hers for just a moment before your arm flopped back on the table and you were dead again.

  I must have said something because she turned to stare straight at me. And she lifted her weapon, aimed it at me, and I woke up.

  I bet there's dream interpreters who'd tell me all sorts of things about what it might mean. That you're dead and that Caitlin would kill the people who hurt you. That maybe she's dead, too, and she's out to kill me. Or maybe I don't eat enough bran. Or dairy. Or something.

  I know what it means, though. It means I'm probably going crazy and not going to get any more sleep tonight unless I take some pills to knock myself out. So that's what I'll do.

  NINE

  I sat staring at my phone for a full fifteen minutes before I dared to make the call. For five years, I'd been good and not called anyone in Perth, but those conditions had lifted now the five-year mark had passed.

  What'd happened to me? Had I gone so soft I didn't even have the guts to make a single phone call?

  It's not like we'd ended on bad terms. I'd kissed him goodbye, tongue and all. He'd even said he loved me, though actions spoke louder than words in this case because he hadn't loved me enough to come with me.