by Anna Willett
“We need to find your sister-in-law.” He sounded callous. Not how he wanted the words to come out. He wished he could take them back, think of a better way but tact had never been his talent. “We need to be careful, he could still be hiding up there.”
Jace rocked back and forth. A slight movement, barely noticeable. He laid his brother’s hand on the floor and pulled the blood-stained blanket up over his head. Micky was glad the man’s face was covered so he didn’t have to see the shock and confusion frozen into his features.
They moved upstairs, Micky in the lead. Jace hadn’t spoken since they found the body. Grief and anger encased him like a nebulous cloud. Something invisible yet palpable. More blood on the carpet; it looked like someone had gone up and down the stairs bleeding profusely. The trail leading to the front door was either Felix’s or Caitlin’s. If it were Felix’s, then he’d gone. As always, wreaked havoc and slipped away. As much as Micky wanted to turn and hunt the man down, what he really needed was to make sure Caitlin was safe. Everything else could wait.
The walkway was a maze of blood stains. Even though Micky had warned him, Jace pushed past and headed down the landing. “Which one leads to the attic?” He made no attempt at stealth. If Felix was up here, Jace had announced their presence.
Micky pointed to the door at the far end of the L-shape walkway. Jace stomped towards the last bedroom, head down like a charging bull. Micky watched him go, hanging back. He slipped the shotgun off his shoulder and disabled the trigger guard. If Felix came out of hiding, Micky wanted to be ready. He’d do what he should have done all along.
Jace slammed open the door at the far end of the walkway. Micky paused, listening for sounds of a struggle. Nothing. He pushed open the door to the master bedroom avoiding the smears of blood around the handle. The room had been torn apart, not just trashed, but decimated. Mattress tossed, clothes everywhere. The drawers on the dresser were hanging out, blood smeared on the walls. He’d always known Felix was sick. An evil mind hidden behind a mask of mild manners and mental illness, but the way the room was trashed showed signs of a fury that was almost diabolical. Amy. He thought of his little sister. What must her final moments have been like in the hands of someone capable of so much rage? Tears stung his eyes. Still gripping the shotgun, he wiped them on his shirt.
“Cat. Cat, are you there?”
Micky stepped out of the room and followed the sound of Jace’s voice.
Chapter Eighteen
Sharon’s skin, pale and flawless, had glowed in the dimness. So white against the dirty walls, she didn’t seem real. Except for the look on her face. Her face made everything real. Breathing, whimpering, Campson grunting, the sounds of her friend’s torture bounced off the walls. Caitlin clamped her hands to her ears trying to block out the noise. She could smell him, his slimy odour all over her.
The walls were damp and cold. The earth beneath her feet reeked of urine. Campson’s back was to her. His blubbery body glistening with sweat. Over his shoulder she could see her friend’s pleading look. Caitlin watched; cowered and watched. She wished she could tear him off Sharon, pull her friend free and together they’d run. In her mind, she could see herself doing it. Picking up the broken bottle. Walking across the cave and jamming it into the man’s naked back.
The image snapping on and off like a photograph whirring through the wind. And still the incessant noises continued. Sharon’s voice, begging, barely coherent. The pleas became frantic. Caitlin’s heart kept time with the cries, all the while thankful Mr Campson was done with her and had turned his attention on her friend.
Make it stop. Make it stop. Caitlin tore her eyes away, unable to stand the look of pleading on her friend’s face. The daylight at the mouth of the cave looked flat and impartial. Sharon screamed, an agonised sound bounced off the walls of the cave. The cry, so shrill, was cut off as suddenly as it began. Caitlin turned back and choked down her own scream.
Campson’s hands were around Sharon’s neck, squeezing and shaking the girl like a toy. He’s killing her. Caitlin snatched another look at the outside world then back at the vile scene. He’ll kill me too. Her legs wobbled and then moved. Stumbling at first, one hand on the wall, she made it to the mouth of the cave. She could hear Campson grunting, the noise surrounded her. Another two steps and she was almost in the light.
“Don’t you move.” He was breathing hard, as if he’d been running. His voice edged with violence. He’s out of breath.
Caitlin half-fell, half-jumped into the light. When the sun hit her skin, it was as if she’d caught fire. Every nerve felt hot and alive. She ran, not picking up speed but unstoppable from the first step. Arms pistoning, torn netball jersey hanging from her shoulders and blood running down her thighs, she sprinted.
She veered away from the station wagon and ran towards the trees. Don’t look back. She belted past a broken fencepost, a finger of rusty wire grabbed at what was left of her clothing pulling her shirt from her shoulders and still she kept running.
The ground sloped downwards careening her forward at an unrelenting pace. The sky seemed to pitch and she tumbled, legs and arms cartwheeling. When she landed, her chin smacked the ground with enough force to make her teeth clamp down on her tongue. The taste of blood filled her mouth but registered only as an afterthought.
Caitlin kept moving. Each step sent a jab of pain through her side. Her lungs felt hot, ready to explode. Got to run. Don’t look back. Not until her feet hit the bitumen did she dare slow down. Only when the coarse uneven surface grazed her foot did she realise she’d lost a shoe. For some reason, the missing shoe tipped her over into exhaustion. Her knees hit the road. A flock of birds swarmed overhead. Screeching filled the air, blocking out the sound of the engine as it barrelled towards her.
Caitlin held up her hand, elbow jerking with the effort. The car screamed to a halt. Doors slamming. Voices. Questions. She felt herself being lifted under the arms and panic took hold.
“No. Please no.” She heard herself crying, her voice barely recognisable as her own. She struggled, trying to pull free.
“It’s okay, love. I just want to help.” A woman’s voice. Not Campson, but a woman. “Let’s get you in the car.” The voice was soft, soothing. Caitlin started to cry.
“I… I want to go home,” the words tumbled out like a wail. “I just want to go home.”
* * *
“Cat? Cat, are you there?”
She raised her head. For a moment, the past and present melded together. The cave. The attic. Her mind wavered between the two, before clearing. With clarity came panic. She had to get out, get help for Eli.
“Cat? Cat, it’s Jace.” The access flap jumped but the pole held.
Jace. She wanted it to be true so badly. But the dreams and memories were so real, was she dreaming now? Touching a finger to her ear, she gasped. The pain was real.
“Caitlin?” Another voice joined Jace’s.
“I’m here.” The words came out cracked, inaudible. She uncurled herself and scurried towards the flap on all fours. The sudden movement sent searing pain through her calf. Her vision doubled and bile rose in her throat.
She swallowed and kept moving. “I’m here. I’m up here.” The words were clear now. They’d found her. Micky found her. The nightmare was over.
Still on all fours, she slid the pole out of the handrail. Within seconds, a hydraulic whoosh and the flap opened. Jace’s head appeared, his eyes only centimetres from hers. For a second, neither of them spoke. He looked pale, older somehow. I bet I look like hell too.
“Are you okay?” his voice rasped as if something stuck in his throat.
She wanted to speak, tell him of the horrors she’d been through. “Yeah. I’m okay.”
Jace stayed behind her as she backed down the ladder. There were a few moments when her legs threatened to give out, but he was there ready to catch her. Once down, her thoughts were clearer, as if the stale, humid air in the attic had clouded her mind.
; “You made it up there okay.” Hands still braced on the ladder, she recognised the voice before turning around.
He wasn’t what she’d been expecting. Tall but not overly so. Older than she imagined, early forties. Dark green eyes, the colour reminded her of an old wine bottle washed up on the beach. They were kind eyes that belied the muscular frame and the hard set of his mouth. She wondered briefly what it would be like to press her head against his chest and close her eyes.
“Just about.” It was all she could manage. If she said more, the tears would start and she’d done enough crying to last a life-time. She turned to Jace. “We need to get Eli to a hospital.”
Something passed between the two men. A look so swift, it might have been her imagination. Jace shifted his weight from one foot to the other as if trying to find his balance. The movement sent a wave of dread crashing against her already ragged nerves.
“Tell me.” She looked at Micky, not sure why she expected only honesty from the man.
“Felix killed him… I’m sorry.” His voice was flat, almost emotionless.
Her mouth was moving, she could feel her lips coming together and then parting. No words came out. I left him. Left him to die, just like I did with Sharon. She could see his wide confused eyes, it was as if Sharon and Eli occupied the same pleading gaze. Her legs felt weightless as if she were floating. Someone called her name and then the world went dark.
* * *
Jace’s face hovered above her. “Cat.” His features blurred then snapped back into place. “Don’t try to sit up.”
She ignored him and pulled herself into a sitting position. Something was different. She was in the sitting room, on the sofa with a dark-coloured wool blanket puddled in her lap. For a moment there was relief. She was out of the attic and Felix was gone. A split second of lightness, as if a boulder had been rolled off her back. But just as quickly reality hit her. Eli. Dead.
“Here.” He handed her a bottle of water. “Drink.”
She wanted to push the bottle away, but took it and made herself swallow. The cool liquid tasted clean on her parched tongue. She took another sip and thought of the way the cold water felt washing over her body only hours ago when the three of them swam in the river.
“He can’t be—I can’t believe it.” She wanted to be wrong, maybe she’d dreamt it. The look in Jace’s eyes was enough to confirm what she already knew to be true. “I’m so sorry, Jace.”
He nodded, the muscles in his face moved as he tried to keep his emotions in check. She reached out and slipped her arms around his shoulders. He fell into her, his face hot against her neck.
“I’m so sorry.” She repeated the words, not sure if she were talking to Jace or Eli.
After a moment that seemed endless and too fast at the same time, she pulled back. She turned to her left and tried to look over Jace’s shoulder, searching for Eli’s body. Her eyes found a snatch of yellow and her stomach lurched. The view was shut off by Micky’s body.
“We need to decide what we’re going to do now.”
She noticed the shotgun slung over his shoulder and felt a quiver of fear.
“What do you mean?” She tried to drag her gaze away from the gun. It looked enormous and deadly.
“Felix is gone,” Jace answered. “It looks like he went out the front.” He seemed nervous, he hesitated and looked over his shoulder.
“We can get in the car and drive to Mandurah. Go to the police and let them sort all this out.” Micky jerked his thumb towards the door.
It seemed like the logical thing to do, but she sensed there was something else. Something had been discussed while she was out. The quiver of fear she felt looking at the shotgun turned into a thick hand slapping at her insides.
“The cops will probably find him.” Micky planted his hands on his hips. “They’ll put him back in hospital. Pump him full of drugs and that will be the end of it. He’ll never stand trial. Never answer for what he’s done.” She could hear the bitterness in his voice. “What he did to your husband. To my sister.” He shrugged. “None of it will matter because he’s too good at playing the game.”
“What do you mean? What game?” Caitlin closed her eyes trying to make sense of what Micky was saying. Could it really be true? Felix would somehow get away with killing Eli?
“He’s crazy. That part’s true, but he’s got the doctors convinced he’s not capable of understanding what he’s done.” He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “I don’t know. He’s been diagnosed with so many mental health issues, he’ll never see the inside of a prison cell.”
“So, what are you suggesting?”
“I can stop him. Put an end to it now. Tonight.”
Caitlin wasn’t surprised Micky wanted to kill the man responsible for murdering his sister. What did shock her was Jace’s silence which she took as agreement.
“Jace?” He kept his gaze fixed on his hands. “What do you think?” He was the kindest natured, most easy-going person she knew. Could he really be contemplating killing someone?
He took a moment before answering. “I saw what he did to Eli.” Jace looked up. His eyes were red-rimmed and raw. “He shot an unarmed, injured man in the head.”
Caitlin gasped back a sob. She tried her best to focus but her mind wanted to conjure up images of what her husband’s last moments would have been like. She was glad Micky stood his ground, still blocking her view of the front door. Nothing could block out the smell. A metallic odour, laced with something foul and sweet. She felt her stomach clench and another wave of nausea hit her, setting her teeth on edge.
“If you’ve both decided, why are you asking me?”
“We all have to be in agreement.” His gaze was unflinching. “I’m talking about killing a man, there’s no half measures. This will stick with you.” He seemed about to say something but stopped.
“Do it.” Once the words were out, she felt only relief. The humidity that had been hanging over the house all evening seemed to break and a cool breeze tumbled in from the kitchen, playing on her arms and shoulders.
Jace looked surprised. He’d been expecting her to argue with them, tell them how wrong it was to take a life whatever the circumstances. But she wasn’t that person. That girl went into the cave and never came out.
“You sure?” Micky’s voice was low, almost gentle.
Caitlin took a breath, careful to breathe through her mouth. “I wasn’t much older than your sister when… A man did something. He killed my best friend. Hurt me in ways I can’t…” She wanted them to understand. Not just for herself, but for Sharon. For Amy and for Eli. “After, when the police went to his house, he’d locked himself in the garage. He took his own life.” She could see the shock on Jace’s face. They’d known each other for years but she realised, no one had really known her since the day she came running out of the cave.
“There was no trial.” She picked up the water bottle and took a sip. “I wouldn’t let them examine me at the hospital. I was too… too broken.” The water bottle shook in her hand so she set it back on the table. “Six weeks later, just after my fifteenth birthday, my mother took me to the doctor.” She looked at Micky. His face was set, almost grim, dark green eyes holding hers. For some reason, what came next was easier to say while looking at him. “I was pregnant and the bastard who hurt me got away with it. I won’t let it happen again.”
“Cat, I didn’t know. I–” Jace touched her hand and without thinking, she pulled away.
“No one knew. I never even told Eli.” She looked at her hands, cut and bloodied. “I should have told him. Maybe things would have been different if I’d trusted him enough.”
“He can’t have gone far.” Micky pulled her back into the moment. “No car. No shoes. There’s a lot of blood, I’d say he’s injured.”
Jace stood. “Eli must have struggled with him before…” He hesitated. “Before, you know.”
“No.” Caitlin pulled the woollen blanket around her shoulders. “It wa
s me. I stabbed him with a broken bottle.”
Chapter Nineteen
Caitlin’s story both shocked and sickened him. But, for such a small, fragile looking person, she had a lot of guts. The things that had happened to her, what she’d been through. Felix and the man who’d attacked Caitlin and her friend were like a plague, spreading their evil virus through despicable acts.
“You stabbed him?” He kept his tone level trying not to show how shocked he was by her admission. He noticed the way her hands shook, the haunted look in her eyes when she’d told her story. It had been tough to listen to, most likely torture for her to relive. He didn’t want her to feel like he was judging her in any way.
She nodded and took another sip from the water bottle. “In the shoulder.”
He could see by the look on her face, there was more to the story, but they needed to get going.
“Okay.” He looked to Jace. “That gives us another advantage. The guy’s a psychopath, but even psychos feel weak when they bleed.”
Jace didn’t answer. He sat with his hands dangling between his knees. Micky wondered if he was up to the work they had ahead of them. Finding Felix in the dark might be difficult. And then… would Jace have the stomach for what had to be done? Would he?
“Jace.” He looked up, startled as if he had zoned out. “Are you sure you’re up to this?” For a moment, Micky thought the kid would zone out again. He’s in shock.
“Yeah, I’m up to it.” Jace stood. “What now?”
“Now, we find him.” He looked from Jace to Caitlin. “The gun he’s carrying, there were five bullets in the clip. He’s used three so, two left. Not much but enough. We need to be careful.”
They both nodded. “We’ll go out through the front and split up. I’ll search the road and bushland at the front of the house.” He turned to Jace. “You go around the back. Search the bush. Look for blood, footprints, and broken branches. Anything that tells us which way he’s headed. After sixty minutes, we meet back here.”