Cold Deception: Dark Mountain Book 1: Dark Mountain, #1

Chapter

One

10

years

ago

. . .

Julia couldn’t look at him. Instead, she stared down at her hands and picked at her cuticles.

The offender, Julia Margaret Taylor, has pleaded guilty to the murder of Father Patrick O’Donnell. The offence carries a maximum penalty of life imprisonment. There is a standard non-parole period of twenty years.

Hearing those words, so casually uttered, forced her head up. She thought the court room would be like American television: full of Armani-dressed lawyers and a youthful, fifty-something judge with black robes who ruled his court with an

iron

fist

.

Instead he was old. Justice William Reynolds. Not a judge, not in an Australian courtroom. Justice. The relics of Britain still reigned in this domain. He wore a horsehair wig, like the barristers for the defence and prosecution, and he spoke in a dried out, thin voice that was hard

to

hear

.

The brilliant scarlet of his robes mesmerised her, letting her drift away, far away, back to all the red on the floor, splashes up the table. . .

"The offender made admissions to the investigating police when traces of blood, which was subsequently determined to be that of the deceased, was discovered in a car belonging to the offender’s mother. This discovery was made the day after the body of the deceased was found in

his

home

."

She continued to tear and pick at her cuticle. Blood oozed from the corner of her nail. She watched it turn into a drop and tried to focus on the words.

"The offender stated she went to the deceased’s home in a state of some agitation after a young friend, here after referred to as AC, confided to the offender that she had been sexually molested by the deceased, who at the time of the offence was the Roman Catholic priest in the Blue Mountains diocese.

Julia Taylor stated she wanted to confront the deceased as she was concerned about the welfare of AC. She was unable to explain the purpose of this confrontation or why, if she believed the deceased to have committed such a dreadful crime, she did not contact the police.

"Because she had more courage than me! Sally’s outraged fury filled the courtroom. I should’ve killed him after what that bastard did to me and all the

others

—

"

The gavel slammed amid the chaos of court officials running and shouting. Julia looked back down to her hands and picked harder at her cuticle.

Remove that woman immediately. I will not have this behaviour in my court.

His voice was loud now. She had no trouble hearing his words but shut her ears to Sally’s sobs and pleas.

Julia! Julia!

She wouldn’t look. If she looked she’d remember and she didn’t want to remember.

The court settled like a bird with ruffled feathers. Justice Reynolds shuffled his papers and continued.

"The offender claimed that the subsequent confrontation between herself and the deceased was heated and became violent. She states that at first the deceased denied involvement in any criminal activities against AC, but eventually admitted his actions.

"She states she became enraged with his admission, as he laughed at her and told her no one would believe her since AC was known to be a liar and a thief.

The offender states that, in her words, ‘when he sneered at me as if I were scum,’ she grabbed a knife from the kitchen bench and stabbed the deceased in the stomach three times. This is consistent with evidence submitted by the forensic pathologist. In addition, DNA from the offender was found on the knife and in blood splatters around the deceased, probably as the result of a cut the offender sustained to her hand in the commission of this offence.

He paused. She looked up to see him peering at her over his glasses. Frowning, he returned to his papers. She dropped her head again. The white scar across her palm still throbbed.

"The offender then returned to her home in her mother’s car, removed her blood-splattered clothing and showered. She states at this stage she did not really realize what she had done and seemed to be behaving, again in her words, ‘on automatic pilot.’

"Evidence from both her mother, the well-known artist Eleanor Taylor, and from her mother’s partner, Deirdre Castro, indicate later that night at the dinner table, the offender was withdrawn and silent. Her mother questioned her but the offender was not forthcoming. Ms Taylor and Ms Castro stated they were preoccupied with their other daughter, an eight year old who was suffering from a serious case of influenza and subsequently was hospitalised.

However, the following day, the police attended the house the offender lived in with her mother, sister, and Ms Castro, with the intention of questioning Eleanor Taylor. Information provided to the investigating police officers revealed she was heard to have had a loud and acrimonious argument with the deceased a week before the offence.

More sobs.

Probably

Ma

.

"The police questioned Eleanor Taylor and asked to examine her car. Upon the discovery of the blood and other matter, the offender, Julia Taylor, admitted she was responsible for the offence.

"At this time it is appropriate to confirm that the deceased was indeed, a sexual predator of the most heinous type. Police evidence indicates that he had been sexually offending against a large number of children and young people for many years in parishes

throughout

NSW

."

The drop of blood was larger now. Even a small amount seemed to make a

terrible

mess

.

"While this fact does provide some mitigation in relation to this offence, there is no excuse for vigilantism of any kind in this society.

"My finding, that the offence falls below the middle range of objective seriousness, is the reason for not imposing the standard non-parole period of twenty years. My findings as to the various subjective matters in the offender’s favour, including the discount for the plea of guilty, and her good prospects for rehabilitation, are further reasons for not

doing

so

."

She let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

Julia Margaret Taylor, you are convicted of the offence of murder. I impose a total sentence of fifteen years with a non-parole period of ten years. Take her below.

She looked up. Eyes the colour of blue ice. A frown as if he couldn’t quite work out a puzzle. Through the explosion of noise in the courtroom, she watched him watching her. With a shrug, he scooped up his papers and stood. Bowing, scraping, moans, and hand on

her

arm

.

Come on, the screw said. Time to go. Shit! What have you done to yourself?

She looked down. Her hands were covered in blood. She held them up and watched the light glint on a thread, slowly sliding down her wrist.

Beautiful.

She walked.

Six paces across, twelve down. Repeat.

Except when the

voice

came

.

And with it the blood. All that shiny blood, flowing, pooling, smothering. When the blood filled her mind, she couldn’t walk but sat, drugged and stupid.

Eventually she’d pull herself together, banish the voice and start nagging.

Get up, get a grip, don’t

give

in

.

Most of the time she didn’t believed the doctors and screws who told her she was mad. She wasn’t mad. She wasn’t.

So when she came back to herself, silencing the voice, she stopped opening her arm to let the blood escape, stopped taking her meds (but she didn’t let them know that) and started to behave like a good girl. Good girls were supposed to win weren’t they? But she was in this mess because she was a good girl, so maybe that wasn’t right.

She stopped thinking and walked.

Six paces across, twelve down. Repeat. And repeat. And repeat.

Chapter

Two

Now …

Julia Taylor stood in the sun outside the jail and prayed for rain. A strong, fierce torrent; enough to wash away the grime of the last ten years. Instead the sun beat down, exposing her solitary figure as she waited.

She’d given away most of her possessions except for some books and the farewell gifts from her mates. Cards and earrings and bits and pieces gleaned from their trash and treasures. Some of the other girls had bags and boxes of stuff they’d accumulated, trying to make their slot a home, but she couldn’t bring herself to make jail anything other than what is

was

.

Hell

.

She’d gone into the place with the clothes she’d worn when arrested and was leaving in the same clothes. Ten years ago, at twenty, she’d been thinner. Years of prison food had packed on some weight, but the jeans and tee-shirt fitted well enough. No jacket. Even though it was nearly winter, the sun was warm on

her

skin

.

She turned and looked back into the prison foyer. No clang of the jail gates nowadays, just a soft swish of an automatic door opening into a foyer that could be a doctor's office.

"Got someone to pick

you

up

?"

The female prison officer, who’d completed all the paper work with her, stood in front of the glass doors and let them close behind her. She didn’t exactly smile, but she wasn’t hostile either.

Julia licked her dry lips and didn’t know what to say. For the first time in a lot of years she could ignore anyone if she wanted to but found ingrained habits were hard to

let

go

.

Yeah, she’s a bit late. She stared down the long driveway to the road. I might wander down to Bathurst Road and wait for her there.

Okay. Good luck. Don’t come back. The PO smiled at her and Julia tried not to laugh. As if she’d ever come back to this hell hole. Lots of women did, but she wasn’t lots of women.

She started the long walk to the road, marvelling that it wasn’t five o’clock in the morning and she wasn’t headed to the dairy to milk

the

cows

.

The green fields of minimum security Emu Plains Correctional Centre looked benign and peaceful. She could almost be on a stroll in the country, walking down a poplar lined pathway, kicking the autumn leaves as she walked. She heard a yell from the field on her right.

"See ya Jules! Don’t

forget

us

!"

She spied Jodie about to start up a ride-on lawn mower. She waved back and blew her

a

kiss

.

I’ll never forget you, never forget the lost years and wasted lives.

Bye Jodie, she yelled back. Look after yourself. Don’t fuck up again.

Jodie laughed. Not after all those lectures from you. I’d be in deep shit. She turned the ignition and roared off with a trademark, "

Yee

haa

!"

Julia waved again and continued walking to

the

road

.

Dee was late. That wasn’t like her. Always on time, always reliable. The last ten years had been bearable because of Dee’s solid, unwavering support.

Julia reached the road and stood there, uncertain. Trucks lumbered past and threw choking dust up into her face. A car with a couple of blokes inside slowed and stared at her. She braced herself to run, her heart pounding hard, not knowing them but seeing the sneering ridicule on their faces.

One of them yelled at her, his face distorted with hate

and

lust

.

Scum. Waiting for any fresh jail meat standing on the road, any woman who might want something or someone to take them to their

new

life

.

"Just get out, love? Wanna party? Got some stuff here you might want. Waddaya

say

,

eh

?"

She gave them the finger then breathed again when the one who’d yelled at her spat out his window as the car

sped

off

.

Charming. Better get used

to

it

.

She knew men saw women who’d been in jail as easy pickings. Preyed on their loneliness and crippling need for everyone’s approval. The fact that most women were addicted to something, whether it be drugs, alcohol, or loser men, made them radiate their victim status as soon as they

got

out

.

That wouldn’t be her. She wasn’t a victim and she didn’t need anyone’s approval. All she wanted was a quiet life where she could work out what to do next. She knew it wouldn’t be easy. Better to realize first off just what she’d be up against. No one liked ex-crims. They were never seen as ex. Once a criminal always a criminal.

Especially me. No one will ever forget what

I’ve

done

.

She pulled her bag closer to her and peered down the road. A cool wind picked up, lifting her dark hair from her shoulders.

As soon as she got home she’d get a decent haircut and some new clothes. No more green or maroon. She’d ban those colours permanently from her wardrobe.

Another car slowed and she braced herself for abuse, but breathed with relief when she saw it was Dee in a van with the name of her business painted in lively colours on the side. A Passion for Plants. Vines and roses and sunflowers covered the outside. She looked like she was driving a living garden. Julia smiled then laughed as her stepmother leaped out of the van and scooped her up in a

bear

hug

.

I’m late. I’m so sorry. The traffic down the mountains was hellish. You won’t believe what they’ve done to the road. The continuing obsession with getting somewhere fast. They’re widening the highway. All the trees gone. Look at you! You look great! Is that all you’ve got? Yes? Okay. Let’s get going. Your mother is waiting.

Julia laughed some more as she was released from a hug and bundled into the van by what seemed like a whirling dervish. Small but solid, Dee never seem to change. Her sleek gray bob and the sparkly earrings she always wore, were exactly as they had been when Julia first met her as an anxious fourteen

year

old

.

Dee threw her case in the back and climbed into the van all the time chattering about the road, the weather, what they had to pick up at the shops on the way back. Then she stopped suddenly and turned to Julia, tears pouring down

her

face

.

I’m sorry, she said, her voice hoarse and raw. I just can’t believe it. I can’t believe you’re finally out of that horrible place. You should never have been there.

She burst into noisy tears and leant her head on the steering wheel. Julia froze. She knew she should do something, offer some support. This was Dee, her stepmother, the woman who loved and lived with her impossible mother, who stood by her when nearly everyone else had either deserted Julia or been

pushed

away

.

For ten years Julia had avoided any emotional entanglements. You could get sucked into the vortex of emotion in a women’s prison and that was dangerous. Too many dramas, too much oestrogen, too much despair and loneliness. And truth be told, no longer being responsible for Eleanor and Blossom, just leaving them for Dee to deal with, had been her secret relief. Now, as she stared at her stepmother, emotional entanglements started their insidious wrap around her mind, like the vines on the van she

sat

in

.

Julia shook herself and reached for the older woman. Gathering her into her arms, she stroked her back and

shushed

her

.

"It’s okay, Dee. Everything is okay now. We’ll get over it won’t we? All the years you’ve been visiting me we talked of this day didn’t we? It’s a happy day. A day for plans and looking forward.

Isn’t

it

?"

Dee pulled away from Julia, brushed her tears from her face and squared her shoulders. You’re right. Absolutely right. This doesn’t help anything. She took in a deep breath and the Dee that Julia had known for so long appeared. Solid, reliable. Always there to

lean

on

.

Dee put the car into gear, watched for the traffic, then performed a brisk U turn, taking them back the way she’d come, back up to the Blue Mountains.

Back

home

.

You need to prepare yourself, Dee said, resignation in her voice. They were on the last stretch of the freeway at Lapstone about to head into Glenbrook.

Why is that? Julia knew she was about to hear something of the latest wild plan of her mother’s.

"Ellie wants to have a welcome home party

for

you

."

Julia’s stomach sank. "No, no, no! Why does she

do

this

?

You know what she’s like. Now that you’re out your mother wants the world to know she’s not ashamed of you or what you did. She slanted a glance at Julia. Or what you claim you did, she muttered.

Julia ignored her last remark. She’d never discussed that day with anyone other than her lawyer and she never intended to. Dee had tried everything to get her to open up over the years and hadn’t succeeded.

Nice of her to let the world know. Perhaps she could’ve told me first.

"She loves you Julia. You know that

don’t

you

?"

Yes, she did. She’d always known that. Even at the worst time, when Eleanor couldn’t function and the State stepped in, Julia knew her mother loved her. Trouble was, love was rarely enough for a child. Other more basic needs were required. Like food, shelter,

and

care

.

Julia scrubbed at her face wishing she could scrub out the memories of that pathetic,

neglected

waif

.

What has she got planned? Welcoming signs? Balloons up and down the street? Marching bands?

Dee snorted with laughter. "I wouldn’t put it

past

her

."

Julia gazed out the window and tried to stop the hammering in her chest. The hammering had started as soon as she’d walked out of jail and hadn’t subsided. She tried to take in where she was and what she was seeing rather than worry about what lay ahead. Live in the present, her jail meditation teacher told her. Forget the past and don’t worry about the future. She’d had a lot of time to practice that in her cell. Jail life was surprisingly uncomplicated but she suspected it wouldn’t be so easy on the outside.

The van made its way up the mountain highway and Julia started to focus on the trip. Emu Plains was at the foot of the Blue Mountains and Katoomba almost at the top. Between were villages all linked by the ubiquitous Great Western Highway, the road that lead from the Emerald City, Sydney, to western NSW. Whenever she’d made this trip Julia used to think of it as making a trip on a knife edge. Even more so today.

She saw the lower mountains villages nowadays looked like any old suburb of Sydney but hoped the upper mountains still maintained their old world charm. But the highway widening filled her with dismay.

Julia felt tears prickle at the back of her eyes as they climbed the Bodington Hill at Wentworth Falls, past the landscape nursery and the garden pot shop with its eternal sale. The full horror of the road works lay

before

her

.

Most of the trees had gone. It was like some psychotic giant had ploughed through the area with a blunt chainsaw. A building site made of tin demountables cluttered one side of the highway and trucks and tractors were gouging out the earth. Julia though it looked like a scene from another planet. Alien and inhospitable.

The only thing that hadn’t changed was the mist that could descend in minutes and turn the world into a gray impenetrable blanket. As if on cue, Julia thought, so I don’t have to see this wreckage.

Is this what everything will be like? Torn up and destroyed?

Dee slowed to a crawl as the mist transformed into a heavy fog. Typical, she muttered. Get to Wentworth Falls and the weather changes.

I don’t mind, Julia said. At least it’s familiar.

She calmed slightly when they got to the village itself, which didn’t look all that different. The German cake shop was still there.

Have to stop and pick up some pretzels and a cake. Want to come? Dee asked her tentatively.

Julia was silent as Dee pulled up the van outside the shop. She peered at the cars and the people amid the swirls of fog and took a deep breath. May as well start the way she wanted to go

on

. "

Okay

."

Her heart started a panicky rhythm.

On closer inspection, everything here looked the same but different. Different shops, a different look to the others, a kind of spruced up look. The old post office had become a restaurant. New shops were open at the end of the strip. She didn’t see anyone

she

knew

.

The air was much colder when she got out of

the

car

.

I should’ve bought you a jacket, Dee said as Julia stood shivering outside the cake shop. I didn’t think.

Julia smiled and shook her head. Don’t worry. It’s kind of nice. Mountain cold feels different. Cleaner.

Come inside. It’s warmer.

Dee opened the shop door and held it for her to follow. Panic clutched her entrails in one

twisting

grip

.

No, no,

not

now

.

Maybe I’ll wait in the car. She turned and fled. When she got to the car, she leant on it and closed her eyes. Breath in, breath out. That’s all she

could

do

.

"Damn it all

to

hell

."

Her eyes snapped open to see a man bending over to pick up the paper bags he’d dropped. From the look and smell the bags were full of meat pies just bought from the cake shop. He swayed a little as if he couldn’t quite focus on what he was doing. Finally, he scooped everything up and stood peering around, looking for something or someone. His gaze fell on Julia and her heart

turned

over

.

Julia Taylor, as I live and breathe.

The sound of that sneering drawl made her blood run cold. Mid forties, muscle turning to fat and muddy blood-shot brown eyes. He looked like the kind of man who had some glory days as an athlete but was starting a slow decline into heart attack land. Even at ten o’clock in the morning, she could smell alcohol on him. But there was something about him, something that made nausea bubble in

her

gut

.

"Just

got

out

?"

She tensed and said nothing. The cold air couldn’t stop the trickle of sweat slide down her spine.

"You don’t remember me

do

you

?"

She couldn’t speak.

"I

arrested

you

."

Her breath strangled in her throat. The coppery taste of blood flooded her mouth. Images from that night, that terrible night, sliced into her brain making her gasp. She could smell stale cigarettes and disinfectant and hear the cries of Nessa in the cell next

to

her

. . .

I remember you, she muttered, willing her stomach to stay where it was. Gary Randle.

He stepped closer to her and smiled.

"I bet you remember Angus

O’Reardon

too

."

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

Quite the entrepreneur is Angus. Needed a bigger landscape than being a small town cop. He’s someone in this town now. Someone who matters. Who would’ve thought?

He sneered at her, all the time sliding his muddy gaze over her body making her skin crawl.

But something else rose to the surface in her brain, something she’d not let herself have in all the long years of her incarceration. White hot fury flowed along her nerve ends, making her hands flex convulsively. She could almost feel the pudgy, slack skin around his neck, almost see her hands squeeze tighter and tighter . . .

Is that so? she said in a voice that sounded surprisingly calm even to her. I guess that means the good people of the upper Blue Mountains don’t know about his other extensive entrepreneurial activities.

The sneering smile disappeared.

I don’t know what you mean, he said. "Angus is a prominent business man up here. He owns the Chadbourne Hotel. Bought it when it was a mouldering heap and turned it into a tourist draw card. It’s his

life’s

work

."

"And you’re his loyal assistant. How sweet. So those rumours I heard about this sales activities were just rumours? Did all those girls coming back from visits off their faces on pills get their stuff from

someone

else

? "

Randle paled then inched closer to her. She fought not to throw up as stale sweat and rank breath washed

over

her

.

Had a little help didn’t he? she said. Needed someone to turn the other way on visits.

"I think you’ve got quite a bizarre fantasy going on there. Out for some revenge are you? I doubt a convicted murderer would have much credibility if she started making accusations about an upstanding member of the community,

do

you

?"

"Upstanding? Yeah, right. You were both very upstanding the day you arrested me

weren’t

you

?"

Her stomach twisted as the memory she’d struggled so hard to forget came flooding back. The cold, filthy cell, the sneering laughter,

the

fist

. . .

I don’t know what you’re talking about, Randle said, a smile on his oily, knowing face. "You were processed by

the

book

."

She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Get away from me, she said through clenched teeth. "

Just

go

."

Not until you agree you won’t make any wild accusations about Mr O’Reardon to anyone.

Or what? Anger continued its long dormant flow through

her

body

.

Or something bad might happen.

Don’t fucking threaten me, asshole. She stepped forward into his face. I’m not a sweet little kid anymore. Leave me alone.

He stepped back, a wide smile on his face and held his hands spread, as if to

placate

her

.

You’ve got me all wrong. I don’t want to hurt you. But just remember, that cute little sister of yours or your mum could run into some trouble if make unnecessary trouble. Just say’n, he said and ambled off down the street.

Fury engulfed her as she watched him climb into a big, shiny, tank of a car. Someone else was behind the wheel. Both men sat and watched her

watching

them

.

Dee bustled out of the shop and thrust some paper bags into her hands. The car promptly did a U turn and screamed out of the village.

Idiots, Dee said. "More and more of them now days. Think their powerful cars mean they can drive like hoons. Get in the car. I bought you

some

food

."

Julia climbed in and fought