Perfect Victim by Megan Norris, Elizabeth Southall Read Free Book Online Page A

Mont Albert,’ Mike asked me. ‘Someone who has died.’
    ‘Not that I can think of.’
    ‘Someone who is perhaps blind,’ added Mike. ‘Ted says he’s had a message that the blind see. And this blind person is watching over Rachel.’
    ‘Old Grandma,’ I said. ‘She was blind. But lived in Surrey Hills. Same postcode as Mont Albert, though.’ Grandma died when Rachel was about five. Rachel was her namesake, Rachel Elizabeth, although Grandma hated both names and always called herself Bessie. She told me when she found out I had named Rachel after her that she couldn’t think why. But I think she thought the idea of having a grandchild named after her was appealing.
    ‘That’s it, then,’ said Mike. ‘The blind see.’ He paused. ‘There’s another call coming through. Ted, can you hold on? … Okay then … Bye, we’ll see you later in the day … Hello … Oh, Mum … no, we haven’t found her yet.’
    I relaxed and leant back onto the bed. Some moments later Mike said goodbye to his mother, but dropped the phone. I reached across him, and put it back. Mike stayed where he was, his body over the bed, his arm dropped loosely to the floor, with his fingers flailing.
    ‘Mike … Mike!’
    He was sobbing, uncontrollably.
    I had never seen him cry.
    ‘Oh, Mike,’ I said and wrapped my arms tightly around him, feeling his pain, empathising with his fatherhood’s loss.
    ‘She’s dead!’ he wailed.
    ‘She’s not!’ I cried out.
    He flung my arms away and rocked recklessly on the bed, flinging his body around in anguish. ‘She’s dead.’ He sobbed and sobbed, and then suddenly his body fell back, and dropped like a rag doll, limp. Still. His eyes glazed.
    I thought he was dead. ‘Mum!’ I shrieked.
    Mum came in as Mike raised himself again. ‘I’m sorry,’ he sobbed, shaking. His whole body racked with torture. Trembling. Almost inaudibly he said, ‘I love my children, I love my children, I love my wife, I love my wife.’
    I had never seen him look so terrifying. It was like he was possessed.
    Ashleigh-Rose came in. Looked at her father, tried to hold him. He fell back again, limp as a doll, unable to move. She stroked his head.
    I ran from the room. Mum ran after me. We left him with Ashleigh-Rose stroking his head, crying in her arms.
    I rang our doctor in Mont Albert. Told them what had happened. But because we lived in Heathmont they were unable to make a house visit. They gave me the phone number of a locum service.
    Ashleigh-Rose came out and sat on the couch. ‘He’s quiet now.’
    The phone rang again and Mum returned to Mike with a glass of water and two paracetamol. It was my father Ivan and stepmother Susan ringing.
    Before I could tell them what had happened they asked if Ashleigh-Rose would like to stay with them in Healesville until Rachel was found. Ashleigh-Rose replied with a firm ‘yes’ and started to cry. She had never seen her father cry either – now she had witnessed him sobbing. She was a very scared eleven-year-old.
    The locum arrived within the hour and stayed talking, privately, with Mike for another hour. He prescribed medication and rest, but he knew the rest would be highly unlikely.
    Mike did rest until noon. We knew the Richmond police were interviewing teachers and students at the dance school so we decided it was best not to interfere.
    My father and Susan came to collect Ashleigh-Rose, who had hurriedly packed her bags. We rang one of my aunts to come and sit with my mother so she would not be by herself while she was busy answering phone calls.
    Mike was now convinced that Rachel was dead. No amount of persuasion could alter his mind. Rachel was a girl who was afraid of the dark, and tentative in new surroundings. She was a girl who needed the security of family and friends. When we moved to Heathmont she hated having a downstairs rumpus room as a bedroom – she begged to come upstairs. ‘I want to be with you guys.’ So her father emptied his study