Kindred Hearts: Hearts Series Book 3, #3

Kindred Hearts

Hearts Series (Book 3)

Lucy Appadoo

Copyright© 2019 Lucy Appadoo

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording without either the prior permission in writing from the publisher as expressly permitted by law, or under the terms agreed.

The author’s moral rights have been asserted

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This book is dedicated to my family, and to all those who have experienced injustices in the world. I wish you only the best.

Contents

1.LETTER

2.SURPRISING TWIST

3.IN FRIENDSHIP

4.BACK TO REALITY

5. GET-TOGETHER

6. CRISIS POINT

7.DARKNESS

8.POLICE REPORT

9. REMEMBRANCE

10.FIGHTING DEMONS

11.PAST HAUNTS

12.CRUEL REMINDER

13.A HELPING HAND

14.A FUN OUTLET

15.NEW DISCOVERY

16.SILENT THREAT

17.BREAKING STORY

18.SURPRISE MEETING

19.FULL DISCLOSURE

20.CONFLICT

21.INCIDENT

22.RAMIFICATIONS

23.RECOVERING

24.SEARCHING

25.TENDER EMOTIONS

26.MYSTERY MAN

27.PERSPECTIVE

28.FIGHTING CHANCE

29.CLOSE AND PERSONAL

30.COMMUNICATION

31.TIME-OUT

32.A NIGHT OUT

33.A BABY STEP

34.A DAY TO REMEMBER

35.INSIGHT

36.UNEXPECTED VISIT

37.CAUGHT IN A LIE

38.A SUSPECT

39.DEEPER TRUTHS

40.TRAUMA IN AFRICA

41.AN INTRUDER

42.RESPITE

43.THE RING

44.CONFRONTATION

45.A BEACH BREAK

46.STARTLING NEWS

47.SECRETS

48.A SYMBOL

49.KARMA

50.A DECLARATION

51.HACKING SKILLS

52.TROUBLE

53.CAPTIVE

54.FATE

55.RESOLUTION

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ALSO BY LUCY APPADOO

Chapter one

LETTER

Lisa Shelny breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped into her Richmond apartment and set aside the mail. She plonked herself on the couch and took off her black flats, rubbing the aching soles of her feet and pressing hard into the joints. It had been a busy day. The hours had raced by as she assisted patients, took detailed case notes, and conferred with the health professionals and surgeons. Though PANCH Day Surgery Centre was less hectic than the gruelling years spent at Melbourne Hospital and her overseas nursing work.

She looked out towards the courtyard with the Holland blind half-open, and squinted at the partial glare of the evening sun. She adored her open-plan living apartment with its fully equipped kitchen, large bedroom, and a separate study for her to do all her paperwork.

Lisa stood up and set her bag on the rectangular timber table. She opened the fridge and considered her options. Her choices were either left-over chicken salad or a thick juicy steak. She was famished, so she took out the chicken salad and ate it straight from the bowl while sitting in the quiet. Having lasted just long enough in the silence of the apartment to get a few bites of the salad down, she turned on the TV and settled at the table to listen to the news. She preferred the background noise.

Lisa picked at the remaining egg with her fork. The usual rambling of kidnappings, home invasions, catastrophes overseas, and murders filled the screen. Nothing new.

Victoria Police have set up a community taskforce with African-Australian leaders to manage youth crime. The Chief Commissioner indicated there has been an influx of public disorder and misbehaviour, particularly in relation to home invasions and car-jackings. The Federal MP Greg Hunt stated, ‘African gang crime is out of control in Melbourne.’ However, Community Leader Richard Deng rejected politicians’ use of the words, ‘African gangs,’ the newsreader said. A clip of Deng’s interview played.

Most of these youngsters are born in Australia. Let’s call them Australian.

The screen returned to the newsreader as he made his closing remarks. It is believed that young Sudanese men in Victoria’s justice system are overrepresented and young Africans are racially profiled.

Lisa shook her head as she turned away from the TV, forcing the images of her overseas mission from her mind. She took a calming breath and wanted to curse these damn politicians who generalised youth crime to merely Africans. Sure, there had been an increase in home invasions by Sudanese gangs but, all in all, many Australians of non-African descent committed crimes too. She refused to discriminate against someone because of their skin colour or their country of origin.

Lisa set down her dishes in the sink and filled the basin. She watched the suds and water rise. Africa. She’d never told her friends, Julie, Brooke, and Lara, about Africa. All she wanted to do was put it out of her mind and get on with life. What good would it do dredging up the past? She had a good life with her work, friends, family, and volunteer work at the African Foundation. She enjoyed her time at the foundation, tutoring newly arrived primary and secondary students in literacy and job-seeking skills every Saturday morning.

Another life-saver for Lisa had been Zumba at least once a week with Julie. The beat and rhythmic flow of the dance music released tension in her body, and gave her an outlet; a release from all that had happened in the past.

Lisa turned towards the mail, then decided against dealing with the bills right now. She strolled to her bedroom and changed into tracksuit pants and a tight-fitted top. Her bedroom was bare and simple with a timber bed, matching bedside cabinets, a small gold touch lamp, a mahogany tall boy, built-in robes, and an en suite. A decorative cluster of metal flowers hung on the wall above her bed. She smiled at her treasure trove of jewellery on the dresser. Bangles, chokers, earrings, necklaces, and rings were all arranged neatly in the compartments of a decorative jewellery box. She couldn’t leave the house without wearing jewellery. She felt naked without it.

Heading back towards the living room, she grabbed the mail and stepped out into the courtyard with an open view of other apartments. Plants in pots surrounded the glass table with padded chairs. A tall hedge sat towards the end of the wooden fence outside her courtyard. Both the hedge and fence placed a boundary between her apartment and others, affording her a measure of privacy. She had a view of apartments with balconies and occasional passers-by entering or exiting the premises. The warm, gentle wind from the open area blew her hair as she sat down to open her mail. One by one she opened up the envelopes.

As she guessed, the mail was mostly bills. The last envelope didn’t have the type font address she was expecting. It was handwritten with no sender’s address and appeared to have been hand delivered. Who would be writing to her without an address? Goosebumps raced across her skin. She unfolded the letter and began reading. With each word, her heart sank.

Chapter two

SURPRISING TWIST

Lisa’s hands shook while gripping the paper as the words on the page sank in.

I know what happened in the past and you need to pay. You believe you helped people as a nurse, but you failed them all. You’re not as great as you think you are, and all you deserve is punishment. You as a nurse is simply an illusion, a facade, a fabrication of your life that moulds you like others, but you are not like others. You are not who you proclaim to be. You are a fraud, a fake, and you simply cannot go on the way you have been. You’ll be taught a series of lessons by me and, hopefully, by the end of it, you will learn. If not, then a surprising twist will come your way. No-one can get away with what you did and still live freely. You should be imprisoned and maimed. You do not deserve to live. If I were you, I’d be looking over my shoulder from now on. Nowhere you go will be safe. No more haven for you. You’ll be watched, scrutinised and punished as the wretched woman you are. Watch your back! Doomsday is coming!!

She put down the letter and swallowed. With a hand on her chin, she wondered who could write such a thing. She didn’t make any mistakes as a nurse. How was she a fraud and fake, and how was she not like others?

She wondered what to do next. It was probably just a prank from someone who was ill. One of those fraud scams that threaten people to get money. Surely she could simply ignore it and move on. There was no point in going to the police as this was probably a one-off letter. She’d wait and see before letting panic get the better of her. She’d be reasonable and calm about this. She didn’t want to call her friends and worry them. The letter had to be someone getting their jollies by scaring people, surely?

With a nod of the head, she decided to leave it alone. She headed inside and tossed the bills and the letter on the coffee table. As she sank onto the couch, she found a channel playing a romantic comedy, but her mind wasn’t on the movie. Her thoughts scattered around her friend Julie. Two years ago, Julie was almost killed by a stalker. The same stalker who had killed Julie’s friend Jane. Lisa helped Julie investigate Jane’s death. The stalker had been involved in corporate fraud and corruption within the recruitment agency Jane worked at just before her death. The crazy man had been arrested and sentenced to serve over twenty years in prison.

Could the letter be part of something serious like the threats Julie received? No, it had to be a prank.

The phone rang. With a jolt, she rushed for the phone and answered it.

Lisa, it’s Julie. How are you doing, girl?

She gave herself a few seconds before replying. Fine, gorgeous. How’s that lovely husband of yours?

Julie giggled, apparently still in the honeymoon phase after marrying Daniel a few months ago. He’s amazing. Married life is great. You should try it.

Lisa shook her head with a hint of a smile. I’ll take that under advisement.

Listen. Daniel’s worried about Johnson. His mother’s been very sick, but she refuses to go to the hospital. Any chance you might pay him a visit and cheer him up? Maybe convince his mother to continue with her treatment.

Lisa swallowed her nervousness. She and Johnson, Daniel’s friend, had met when Lisa was helping Julie investigate their friend, Jane’s death. They’d become close friends. I don’t know, Julie. Maybe he wouldn’t appreciate me getting involved. You know how proud he is.

I guess he is, but Daniel thinks you’ve always been able to cheer him up. Maybe just a quick visit.

Lisa wanted to see Johnson again. He was her friend, after all. If her friend needed her, how could she say no? Alright. I’ll try to visit him tomorrow night. Should I ring first?

No, just drop in. I’m sure he won’t mind.

They said their goodbyes and ended the call. Lisa had never met Johnson’s mother but, from what Johnson had mentioned about her, she’d been sick and depressed all of his life. His father had left them when he was five, and it’d only been him and his mother for all these years.

She glanced at the pile of mail on the table. Lisa had more important things to worry about than a silly joke of a letter.

Chapter three

IN FRIENDSHIP

On Sunday morning, Lisa stopped her car at the kerb in front of Johnson’s home in Camberwell. Butterflies in her stomach kept her stuck in place for a few minutes. She’d only ever visited Johnson with her friends, never on her own and couldn’t help but feel anxious.

The stunning water feature and vertical garden greeted her as she walked down the brick-paved path towards a bright red door with shrubbery, an array of flowers, and immaculate hedging surrounding the garden.

Lisa cleared her throat, knocked on the thick timber door, and waited. She heard footsteps approaching and hugged her body tight to fight a chill despite the warm day. Her face broke out in a smile when Johnson swung open the door. He returned the smile as he ushered her inside.

Well, hello there, gorgeous. This is a surprise. Come on in.

Thanks. She turned to the garden before entering. Your garden looks amazing. It looks different from the last time I was here. You’ve got some new plants, haven’t you?

He closed the door behind her. Thanks. My gardener does excellent work. Take a seat.

Even though she had been to Johnson’s house a few times, she was still in awe of the décor and space within the large entrance foyer. Her eyes roamed the living area that featured a gas open fireplace and an adjoining dining room overlooking a Zen-inspired back garden. The kitchen was expansive with plenty of bench space and a large chef’s pantry. She sat on one of the stools surrounding the kitchen bench.

What can I get you to drink? A coffee or tea? Johnson asked.

Tea’s good. Thanks.

Johnson pulled out mugs from an overhead cupboard, then turned on the kettle and made tea. Lisa heard coughing. Johnson grabbed a glass of water. Sorry, give me a minute. I’ll give this to my mum. She’s staying with me until she can get back on her feet. I won’t be long.

Lisa nodded. Johnson frowned and headed up the stairs.

Lisa stepped off the stool and took a walk towards the living area of the house. The crème walls held framed abstract paintings, and fancy chandeliers hung from the ceiling. A crème leather couch with a modern buffet and hutch, large television screen, and a rustic coffee table gave the room a trendy look and design. Connected to the living room were an indoor swimming pool, a study, and a gym. This house was maze-like with its separate areas.

She returned to the kitchen and sat on the stool again just as Johnson returned with an empty glass. He set it in the sink, then proceeded to finish making the tea.

I’m sorry. She’s asleep now. We should be able to talk. He stirred the tea, then set one aside in front of Lisa. He took a sip of his own and sat on the stool opposite. She’s stubborn about getting treatment. I’ve started caring for her on the weekends. My aunt looks after her during the week.

Lisa fiddled with her gold bangles and played with her necklace. I’m sorry she’s not well. I hope it’s okay I’m here? I don’t what to impose.

He shook his head. It’s all good. He forced a grin. It’s not every day that a beautiful woman comes by to visit. To whom or what do I owe this pleasure?

Julie rang and told me you needed some emotional support. I thought I’d come by to see how you’re doing. Is there anything I can do to help?

His face turned serious for a fleeting moment. Thanks, I’m fine. My mother’s just stubborn. She doesn’t think that treatment will help for her cancer. She’s opted to live out her fate.

Lisa rubbed the back of her neck and bit her lip. What’s aah . . . the prognosis?

Johnson hesitated. The doctors say it’s at the stage four phase. His eyes peered down for a moment. Apart from treatment for her pain, there’s nothing more they can do. They can make her comfortable, which is why my mother thinks she’d prefer to be comfortable in her own home.

I can understand her perspective.

Johnson avoided her eyes. Are you kidding me? She needs the best of care, and I can’t believe she’s given up. Even at stage four, people have miraculously recovered. Why can’t my mum believe in miracles or a cure? I refuse to believe that she’s at the end of it.

"I’m sorry, Johnson. I can’t even begin to imagine