Saving Rose

by Kate Genet

  So, Colin Kennedy and his cronies came and got Zoe. Danny bet the other annoying old guy Frank Wilde had something to do with that. They all stuck together, that lot. Colin Kennedy, Frank and Gracie Wilde. Thank god Claire was always too busy sailing boats around the world to stick her nose into his business. Because her bloody nose was just as long, if today was any indication.

  But none of these musings told him what to do next.

  Except that it meant that Colin now had the photographs.

  That was the logical conclusion.

  35

  He fumbled his phone out of his pocket and stared at the screen as he walked.

  There was no choice. He had to find those photographs, but he was taking an awfully big risk even drawing attention to them. He tried to calculate the odds while he walked, looking up once to orient himself.

  Should he call Colin? Should he ask about Zoe’s possessions, tell Colin he was coming to pick them up?

  Had Colin already flipped through the photo albums and seen what was in there?

  Had he?

  There was no way to know.

  ‘Damned if I do, damned if I don’t!’ Shoving the phone back in his pocket, Danny hooked his thumbs in the backpack straps and tucked his head down lower.

  This was all Zoe’s fault. Her fault for going into his study and helping herself to what wasn’t hers.

  At least, he supposed, the photographs hadn’t got all the way to the police station.

  But they would, when Colin saw them. He’d take them straight there; Danny knew he would.

  So there was little choice about what to do next. Danny had to get them back before Colin could do anything about it. Right now, chances were the old guy was too cut up about his precious damned daughter to worry about a bunch of junk from her car. And the police would have other things on their minds for the next few days, so Colin couldn’t go rushing into the station screaming blue bloody murder.

  There was a chance this could all be sorted out.

  It required a vehicle.

  Zoe’s was out of commission, obviously. Sniffing, Danny turned the corner, walked another block, and stood outside the panel beaters where he’d dropped off his station wagon that morning. It might have been last year, it seemed that long ago now. He checked the time and saw it was growing late.

  The old man would be trying the trip home. Maybe Frank had come back in the boat for him too, but either way, the miserable bastard would be back in Lyttelton by the time Danny managed to follow him there.

  And then it was just a matter of getting the photos back. He’d know as soon as he saw the old fella’s face whether he’d been peeking where it was none of his business.

  Danny shrugged where he stood. If he’d been looking where he oughtn’t to, then he’d have to pay the price.

  It wouldn’t be the first time Danny had followed through on a threat.

  It was important to look after number one.

  And in this case, little number two as well. He’d get the photos, deal with the old man, then get his daughter.

  36

  ‘Claire, what time did Danny say he would be back?’ Gracie was loading the table with food, patting little Rose on her red curls every time she went past.

  Claire shook her head. ‘I don’t know. Probably not until tomorrow.’

  ‘What did he say he was going to do?’ She was back again, with a bowl of potatoes this time.

  ‘See to Zoe, see to the house.’ Claire glanced at Rose, but the wee girl was occupied with chasing several raw, sweet, peas around her plate, bottom lip caught in her teeth in concentration.

  ‘But Colin was taking care of Zoe.’ Gracie dropped a kiss on Rose’s head before making the trip back to the kitchen and peering at Claire across the counter.

  Claire didn’t change her expression. ‘I didn’t tell him that.’

  Her mother’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘Why ever not? It would have meant Danny could come here. Be with the wee one.’ She nodded her chin towards Rose, who had tired of her game with the peas and was poking at a pork chop with suspicion on her face. She hadn’t said much.

  Claire got up from the table and went in to the kitchen, leaned against the counter with crossed arms.

  ‘There was no way he was getting on that boat,’ she whispered.

  Gracie frowned at her. ‘Why not? What did you do to him?’

  ‘Mum! I didn’t do anything. What a thing to say.’

  Her mother simply looked at her with raised eyebrows.

  ‘Okay, I might have questioned him about some inconsistencies in his story, but I wanted him on that boat with his daughter, believe me. We need to keep an eye on that man.’ She sniffed. ‘But apparently he’s afraid of the water.’

  ‘Afraid of the water?’ said her mother in surprise. ‘I didn’t know that.’

  ‘Yeah. Mum?’ she asked, voice low and serious. ‘What do you think of Danny? What sort of man is he?’

  ‘He’s a weasel,’ Frank said, coming into the room and running the tap.

  ‘Frank!’ Gracie said. ‘How many times have I told you there’s a bathroom in which to wash your hands!’

  ‘Every day for the last forty years, Gracie.’

  ‘It’s a wonder I still bother.’

  ‘It is at that,’ Frank agreed. He turned to Claire. ‘I don’t mean any disrespect to Zoe; you know we all love her.’ His face fell. ‘Loved her.’ There was a pause while that sunk in. ‘But I have never been able to say the same about her choice of husband.’

  ‘Still Dad, a weasel?’ She actually thought it was pretty apt but wanted elaboration.

  ‘There’s something about him that just rubs me the wrong way. I look at him and listen to him, and I get the feeling that his mind is never there. It’s always somewhere else thinking about something else. He’s just a hollow shell walking around while his mind’s off in some fantasy world.’

  He ran a hand through his thinning hair. ‘And I don’t imagine it’s a pretty world he lives in, either.’ A look over at Rose sitting alone at the table. ‘He’s devoted to her though, I suppose I have to give him that.’

  ‘I'm worried,’ Claire said. They were whispering. ‘There are things that aren’t adding up.’

  Her parents both looked at her and she shrugged. ‘Something was going on with Zoe this morning when she called. She was frantic.’

  ‘You don’t think it has something to do with Danny, do you?’ Gracie’s face was pale.

  Claire shifted uncomfortably. ‘That’s the trouble,’ she said. ‘I do. I think it had everything to do with Danny.’

  Silence spun out for a full minute.

  Frank spoke first. ‘Rose stays with us. Until you know exactly what’s going on.’ He looked at his wife and Gracie nodded in agreement, turning her eyes on Claire.

  ‘You sort it out, Claire. We’ll make sure Rose is safe, and you find out everything there is to know.’

  37

  There was no one about at the panel beaters. Danny tried the big roller door, found it locked, tugged at the side door, then the office. It was locked up tight. The earthquake had convinced the mechanic to take the day off.

  Lucky for some, Danny thought. It had just made him all the busier. Skirting around the building, he found his car parked in the yard at the back. Still sporting a great graze down the side.

  Still, that didn’t matter anymore. Things had changed. The kid’s death had been called accidental, so no one would be looking at him and his car anyway, and now the city had practically fallen down. There was the odd siren going off and the ground was still shaking and shivering under his feet.

  A bit of a dent in his car was the last thing anyone would give a shit about. Hell, he could claim it was earthquake damage. What would anyone know?

  The keys weren’t in the ignition. Of course. They would be hanging up inside where he couldn’t reach them. And didn’t have to.

  When he bent down to feel along inside the rear wheel well, the magn
etic box with the spare key was still there, just like always. He smiled to himself as he opened it and the silver key fell into his palm.

  It paid to be prepared.

  There were fewer cars on the road than earlier in the day when he’d sat in the passenger’s seat of Gracie’s little frog-mobile with the odd and annoying Claire driving.

  He didn’t head in the same direction. Almost the opposite, in fact, climbing the road that would lead him up and over the hills between the city and the port of Lyttelton. The tunnel would be closed, but he bet Dyers Pass would still be a go.

  He was right, judging by the small caravan of cars he passed coming the other way. Nodding to himself, he smiled in satisfaction. The road was passable then.

  It was the long way around, but then it was better by far than going on the boat with Frank and Claire. Did they think he was crazy or something? The very thought of being out on those waves made him feel green, and he wound down the window a few centimetres, tilting his head towards the fresh air.

  The road was littered with boulders and found him driving hunched over the steering wheel, gaze swivelling this way and that on the lookout for flying rocks. It also meant he could only travel vaguely faster than a snail, and his nails tapped an impatient rhythm against the steering wheel.

  With a bit of luck, he decided, he would find Colin Kennedy in his old monstrosity of a Valiant Chrysler Regal from some long-forgotten year wrecked up here on the high road, a plum boulder sitting in his lap putting him out of his misery. It was possible. Zoe’s death might have sent him straight back to the whisky bottle and that would have made for an unsteady trip home.

  It was probably too much to ask for. Lady Nature had played into his hands once already today. She didn’t strike him as the ultra-generous sort.

  Which was fine, he decided. Because he was up to the challenge.

  By the time Danny nosed his car into Lyttelton, it was half an hour away from sunset and he was cramped, muscles sore from concentrating on the driving.

  The harbour town was a mess. At a guess, every one of the historic old buildings was now a mass of rubble. Squinting at the view, he idled on the side of the road, mouth agape at the damage. Twisting his head, he looked up at the hillside where he knew the Wilde’s lived in a house that Frank had built in his much younger days. He’d bet anything he liked that one hadn’t seen a lot in the way of damage. People like Frank, they always got lucky.

  But then, his daughter was currently in that house, so maybe it was a good thing. They’d even have power, and hot water too, he guessed. Frank and Gracie were into all that self-sufficient bollocks. Freaks, the whole family. And Claire. People treated her like a celebrity, plastering her face all over the news, ever since she’d been in that yachting race and done some sort of act of supreme heroism. Turned back to save someone dangling off their capsized boat or something like that. Zoe had said Claire never talked about it. But still, she was the reporter’s darling whenever she deigned to visit her home country.

  Danny thought the woman was nuts. You had to be a special kind of crazy to do that shit.

  But she wasn’t his target. Nosy questions aside, he didn’t care what the mighty Claire Wilde thought of him. By tomorrow he’d have Rose back again and be away. He’d never have to see any of the Wilde’s again and that suited him just fine.

  The community centre was lit up, which was a bitch, since he’d had the idea of parking there under the trees and basically keeping a low profile until the sun was set on this extraordinary day.

  It seemed, however, that the whole town had decided to have a communal camp-out at the centre. His stomach grumbled at the sight of a couple guys wielding utensils and sausages at a barbeque. It hadn’t occurred to him to eat. For a moment his hand wandered to the door handle, fingers set to push the door open so he could stroll over and join the queue for a burger and couple snags.

  But he caught himself just in time. His stomach could wait, no matter the noise it was making in disagreement. Hell, he’d fish something out of old Colin’s fridge and call it good.

  He just had to wait until the sun went down.

  38

  The road was deep in shadow, the houses dimly lit or not at all. The power was out and behind a few of the windows Danny could see candles burning, but mostly it seemed as if everyone had decided to go down to the community centre, seeking company for their misery.

  Danny checked the time, turning his wrist to look at the watch Zoe had given him for their first wedding anniversary. It was an expensive gold thing and he still liked the way it looked on him. He was glad he’d put it on that morning. The thought of it being broken under a pile of fallen chimney was distressing.

  It was almost two in the morning. Somehow, he’d managed to wait that long before making a move. Cold and stiff and hungry he might be, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to do this right.

  Leaving the car parked on the road, Danny went up the driveway in a crouching run. Made his way to the back door, rustled about under the flowerpots there, and fished the spare key out from under the one with the struggling pink geraniums.

  The door swung open on well-oiled hinges and Danny leaned in, listening to the house. It welcomed him with the stench of fried food and laundry a couple days past needing washed. But it was quiet.

  He closed the door behind him. Moonlight leaked in through the windows and he stood in the kitchen a moment letting his eyes adjust. He’d use the torch shortly, but first he wanted to know exactly where his father-in-law was. In bed, probably. With a bit of luck.

  Padding through the living room, Danny stepped quietly into the hallway and scowled at the darkness. He couldn’t remember if Colin’s room was the first on the left or the second. He’d always checked out when forced to come for visits. Sure, he’d chat away and all that, but it was always so bloody boring, the old man such a crying wimp for a big guy that Danny spent his time thinking of far more pleasant things. He’d got pretty good at it, in fact. Could hold a whole conversation and not remember a thing of it afterwards because he’d been back at home with Rachel, or maybe photographing some sweet young thing all plump and juicy in her pretty little underpants.

  The first door on the left was closed. In the near darkness Danny’s hand looked pale and waxen on the doorknob and he looked at it a moment before twisting it and easing the door open wide enough to peer in.

  It was the bathroom and he left it quickly to stand outside the next door. This one was ajar and from inside the room he could hear snuffling and snoring as though a fat grizzly bear was asleep in the bed. Danny giggled, thinking of the story of Goldilocks and the three bears, then hastily backed away, a hand clamped over his mouth.

  Best not to wake the man. From the smell of the room that would be a hard thing to do anyway. Colin Kennedy had fallen off the wagon.

  The stuff from Zoe’s car would probably be in the living room. It seemed the logical place. Danny relaxed a fraction, knowing that Colin was sleeping under the influence. Shutting the door to the living room, he switched on Claire’s handy dandy torch and spun its light around the room.

  There was a couch cushion on the floor. The table lamp was on its side, shade askew. A bottle of whisky stood on the coffee table. Danny pointed the light at it. Half empty. Pretty pitiful effort, really. Surely Zoe deserved a whole bottle to send her off?

  Sniffing, Danny flexed his shoulders and continued playing the beam of light around the room.

  There was nothing else. No car seat sitting on the floor by the door. No stroller leaning against the wall beside it.

  No old album of photographs on the coffee table.

  No white album of pictures on the floor beside the couch.

  No sign of any of them anywhere.

  It took Danny a minute to process the information. He’d been so sure. Where else would his things be? Where? Colin had been at the scene with Zoe; he was sure of that. No one else would match the kid’s description. No, it was definitely Colin.r />
  Outside a cat screeched, making him jump, sending the circle of torchlight skittering over the ceiling. He clamped a hand around the wrist holding the light and swore under his breath. He needed to get this over with, finish the job and get out of there.

  Another look around the room confirmed it. None of the things from Zoe’s car were there. It was just the sad room of an old man who spent most of his time watching the telly and reading the racing pages in the paper.

  Danny aimed a frustrated kick at the sofa, lips pressed together to stop himself from swearing out loud. Now he’d have to search the rest of the bloody house.

  He started in the kitchen. Nothing there. Into the laundry. Zip. Bathroom. Nada. Hallway. Nope, nothing there either. Spare room – as used to be the dear Zoe’s childhood bedroom – that took a little longer but in a few minutes he was just as positive that his things were not in there either.

  That left the old man’s room.

  Sidling in through a gap in the door just wide enough to take him, Danny listened to his father-in-law snore. Ex father-in-law, he supposed now and wondered if he should take his hand off the light from the torch and be quick about it.

  The old man snorted and turned over, grunting with the effort. Danny froze in the corner of the room and contemplated his options.

  Best just to get on with it. And he took his hand away from the torch, shading it instead and keeping it pointed at the floor. If Colin woke up, he’d shine the light in the old man’s eyes, then strangle the information out of him. In fact, he was tempted to go straight to that plan of action.

  But no need to be so hasty, the voice of reason said in his head. So he stuck to looking quickly around the room, discovered it to be as empty of bounty as the rest of the house, then backed out into the hallway, treading softly back into the living room and closing the door again.