Deep in the Shallows

by J. L. O'Rourke

  “I don’t know,” Carlton shifted on his feet, turning to look over his shoulder. “That’s McTavish’s rover isn’t it? What’s he doing here this late? Are you two at it?”

  “At what? Oh, I get what you’re implying. Actually,” I paused, breathing deeply as rising anger flushed the last vestiges of fear away, “I was going to say that he brought me news of Jackson but now I’m going to tell you that, if we were ‘at it’, even if we were bonking like rabbits, it’s no bloody business of yours. So thanks for bring the statement, sorry, no I haven’t spotted Gunna in your woolshed and good night.”

  I stepped back, shut the door quickly and turned the key to lock it. Beside me Bruno smothered a laugh, clutching his hand to his mouth until we heard the car door slam and the engine start, then he let the laughter splutter out in shaking gasps.

  “Oh my god, you were brilliant. I wish I could have seen his face. I didn’t know we were bonking like rabbits.”

  “In your dreams,” I swatted him on the arm. I wondered if it was in his dreams, it had certainly been in mine. “Be serious. Did you get hold of Harris?”

  “Yep. He’s sending a car and he’s radioed the constable who’s guarding the woolshed.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “Hmm, I was going to say we do nothing but I’ve got a better idea. Back in a tick.”

  Bruno took his keys from the pocket of his Swanndri and left, returning a few minutes later carrying a futuristic-looking rifle and a small bag.

  “Dart gun,” he said before I could ask. “I had it on stand-by for the pigs and now I’m wondering if it might be just the job for stopping Carlton. At least it would hold him until Harris gets here.”

  “That’s too dangerous,” I argued. “He’ll see you coming. What if he thinks it’s a real rifle and shoots you first?”

  “He won’t see me, trust me.” Bruno pulled on his Swanndri and covered his blond-streaked hair with a dark green beanie. “I’m betting he’s too busy checking out what’s missing inside the shed to bother looking across the paddock. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.”

  I wasn’t convinced but he wasn’t going to be dissuaded so I bit back my protests and walked out into the darkness with him, holding the dart gun while he climbed the fence. I was standing in the lee of the stairs, watching him walk away across the paddock into the darkness, when a hand covered my mouth and pulled me backwards. Carlton was still here? I tried to scream but the hand over my mouth was strong, then a sharp object stuck into my ribs and a familiar voice warned me to be quiet.

  “Bonking like rabbits. I knew you were. You slut.” The hand forced my head back while another grabbed my hair and yanked, pulling my body backwards towards the garage. “You thought I’d given up and gone away, but I don’t walk away from things I own and I own you. Mother is not happy with your behaviour. Neither am I.”

  Simon kicked the garage door open, pulled me inside then spun me around so my back was bent over the bonnet of Maggie’s beautiful car. He changed his grip so his left hand was now holding my mouth shut, freeing his right hand to rip at my clothing. I struggled, flailing my arms at his back, but he pushed me harder into the car’s bonnet, giving me no option to move or fight. The fastener on my jeans popped open. As his hand slid down into my knickers, my muscles tensed. I squirmed under him, trying to breathe, to scream, to get away. I screamed for Bruno in my head but the only sound I could make was muffled by Simon’s grip. How could I get attention? Underneath me the metal of the car bonnet flexed with Simon’s weight added to mine. His fingernails scratched my hip as he tried to remove my jeans. I squirmed more, struggling to move my legs. If I could get them up onto the bumper, could I get enough traction to push him off? How could I get Bruno’s attention? Was he too far away now to hear me? What could I use to make enough noise? With all my strength I flung my arms sideways, drumming my fists onto the car’s metal, banging out the old Morse code for SOS that my father had taught me when I was a child playing spy games.

  Simon pulled his hand out of my jeans long enough to slap my face hard.

  “From the look of him, you’ve decided you like it rough, well rough you’re going to get. Go on, struggle a bit harder, you’re turning me on.”

  “And I’m turning you off.” With a surprised grunt, Simon fell sideways as Gunna’s concerned face swam into focus.

  “Are you all right, lass? Did he hurt you? Who the hell is he?”

  I let Gunna help me to my feet, studied Simon’s unconscious form, noting the heavy piece of wood in Gunna’s hand before pulling back my foot and delivering Simon a hefty kick to his ribs.

  “This, Gunna, is my despicable, controlling, narcissistic ex.” I punctuated my description with a solid kick with every word. “I thought I had escaped from him when I flew down here but the bastard followed me, then I thought he had given up when he ran into Bruno who told him where to go and how to get there. I thought he had run back to his ghastly mother in Wellington. Seems I was mistaken.” I kicked him again.

  “Okay, okay,” Gunna pulled me gently out of kicking distance. “Well, what are we going to do with him now?”

  “I could give him an overdose of this,” Bruno’s voice spoke from the door. “Or I could get my vet bag and cut his nuts off. Without an anaesthetic.”

  Before he could put down the dart gun, I had flown across the garage and thrown myself into Bruno’s arms, sobbing into his chest as the adrenalin leaked away. Gunna held his hand out to take the rifle and Bruno wrapped me in a hug, planting tiny kisses on the top of my head as I snuggled into the warmth of his chest. When the sobs died to a sniffle, Gunna got our attention with a discreet cough.

  “Enough canoodling, you two. I need some help to sort out this piece of shit.”

  Reluctantly, I lifted my hands to Bruno’s chest and stepped back from his arms. After one more kiss and a smile, he moved to help Gunna who had found some cable ties and was securing Simon’s wrists and ankles. As he worked, Simon started to wake up, but even fully conscious and struggling, he was no match for Bruno who dragged him to the wall where he shackled him to a convenient metal hook.

  “Can I cut his nuts off now?” Bruno asked with a deliciously evil grin.

  Simon struggled against his bindings, sobbing “No, no, no,” as he scrabbled as far away from Bruno as he could manage.

  “No, not yet,” I said, stepping forwards to stand over my cowering ex. “Maybe later. First, though, you’d better pretend he’s an animal we care about and check his head. We don’t want Gunna blamed for helping me.”

  Bruno’s response was an angry glare but he did as I asked, although with less care and consideration than he would have used on even the worst-tempered animal patient.

  “He’ll live,” he declared. “Pity. What do you want to do with him?”

  “Let’s leave him here for now. I’m sure Detective Harris is driving this way at speed, as we speak, and I’m sure he’ll be only too happy to take this bastard back with him, throw him in a comfy cell and charge him with attempted rape. Mummy will be so proud.”

  Bruno put his arm around my shoulder and we walked away, leaving Simon alternatively whimpering and yelling abuse as he struggled against the sturdy metal hook securing him to the wall. With Gunna following, carrying the dart gun, we stepped out into a bright light that lit the view across the paddock.

  “Holy shit,” Bruno exclaimed. “The woolshed’s on fire! Andy, ring triple 1. Gunna, get hold of Harris. I’m going up there.”

  “No!” I grabbed his arm. “Stay here. There’s nothing we can do. Carlton could still be there. He’s dangerous.”

  “The constable! The guy Harris left there. I’ve got to make sure he’s safe.”

  Gunna was already on his phone as Bruno leapt over the fence and ran. I pulled mine out and dialled, watching Bruno run towards the flames as I gave details to the emergency operator.

  “Harris isn’t far away,” Gunna said as I hung up. He had his phone in camera mode and was cli
cking furiously, capturing the flames leaping in orange, red and yellow fingers upward into the black sky. Framed against the light, Bruno was a silhouette, a black shape getting smaller as he raced towards the inferno.

  “No!” I cried as I saw him dart towards the small door and enter the burning building. Then I was running too, scaling the fence and pounding over the rough ground. Behind me I heard Gunna call, faint against the roar of the flames. I ran on.

  The heat hurt my throat and lungs as I breathed it in. My eyes stung but I kept running towards the black gap of the doorway. I yelled Bruno’s name, hoping I would see him smiling and safe. Then I did. I reached the door, staying in the centre of the gap, afraid of the glowing wood that crackled around me. Inside, past where the swans had been piled, deep in the pig pen, I saw a movement. I called out and the hunched figure lifted its head.

  “Stay back, I’ve got him,” Bruno shouted.

  He hunkered down again and I realised he was dragging something, someone. I took a deep breath, drawing up the courage to step through the doorway to help, when the air seemed to change. The flames grew brighter, louder, as the timbers above Bruno shattered, tumbling around him in a burning waterfall of embers, covering him as he fell to the ground.

  “Bruno! Bruno!” I leapt forwards, thrusting through the falling debris, ignoring the heat, choking on the smoke as I shoved blackened pieces of wood out of my way. The pig pen was their saviour; the sturdy wire gates had created a barrier against the falling roof. Bruno was huddled against them, protecting the unconscious police constable with his body. I sank to my knees beside them, wanting to hold Bruno tight but knowing there was no time to waste.

  “Come on,” I urged, “we need to go.”

  Dazed, Bruno stared at me, not comprehending, then shook himself like a wet dog and smiled, his teeth abnormally white against his soot-blackened face. He wrapped his arms under the shoulders of the young constable and motioned for me to grab his feet.

  “Let’s do this.”

  Together, we lifted the injured man and carried him out as the building collapsed around us.

  Chapter 11

  Outside, safe from the flames, we lowered the constable gently to the ground and collapsed beside him, arms wrapped around each other as we gasped for breath. I pulled Bruno tight, resting my head against his shoulder, feeling his breath ruffling my hair. His hands moved to cup my chin towards his face, towards the kiss that obliterated the fire around us.

  Then we were surrounded by men in fluorescent yellow coats who rushed to our aid, separating us, covering our mouths with oxygen masks and wrapping us in warm blankets. As my mind cleared I realised my hands ached. I held them out in front of me, palms up and saw the look of concern deepen on the face of the firefighter who had given me the mask. He raised an arm for attention then led me towards the fire engines where he handed me over to another yellow coat who was carrying a first aid kit.

  “We need to get your hands under cold water,” he said.

  “I’ll take her.” Gunna appeared by my side. “There’s a trough over by the fence. Come on, I’ll take you over there.”

  “All right,” the firefighter agreed. “Get cold water running and keep under it for at least ten minutes. The ambulance should be arriving shortly and as soon as they’ve dealt with the policeman, I’ll send them over to check on you. You’ll probably have to go to hospital to get those burns seen to.”

  I mumbled agreement and let Gunna lead me across the paddock to an ancient concrete water trough. It was empty, the bottom full of leaves and a green slime with an offensive smell, but Gunna wasn’t put off. He twisted the trough’s rusted tap, suggesting we stood back while the tap belched orange water in air-bubble driven bursts. When it slowed to a steady, clear stream, I thrust my hands into it, letting the icy cold relieve the sting of the reddening burns.

  From my position, precariously perched on the edge of the trough, bent into the running water, I watched firemen playing their hoses over the woolshed, fighting a losing battle with the flames that thrived on the aged, dry wood. The cold from my concrete seat seeped through my body, making me shiver. Ten minutes under the icy water seemed like forever. I wanted to leave, to stand up straight from the uncomfortable position I was sitting in, to find Bruno. Had that kiss really happened? Why did it happen? What has happening between us? I was about to walk away when a medic found me, declared my burns superficial, applied two huge dressings held on by light bandages and advised me to see my doctor in the morning. I nodded agreement, lacking the energy to explain that I didn’t have a doctor locally. Would a vet do?

  The heat of the flames drew me back to the burning woolshed, now reduced to a giant bonfire of fallen wood, parts of it damp and steaming as the firefighters gained control. From the front of the shed Gunna waved, beckoning me to join him and Harris.

  “They reckon they’ve found Carlton’s body,” Gunna said with grim smile. “In there.”

  “There’s some barbed wire wrapped around his leg,” Harris took up the story. “We’re guessing he started the fire in the middle of the shed, then tripped over the wire when he was trying to get out. Hoist by his own petard, as my dad used to say.”

  “Why did he start the fire? If you guys had already been here, what was the point?”

  “To get rid of the evidence. I’m guessing he didn’t realise how much the forensic team have already retrieved. Maybe he thought he could bluff his way out of trouble if the shed and everything in it was gone.”

  “And in his panic, he’s burnt himself to death. That’s sad. Even if he was doing something stupid, according to Gunna he didn’t kill that poor guy, Nettles did. Carlton must have been a good cop once, surely?”

  “Oh yeah,” Harris agreed. “He was a very good cop. Just not so good a person. A bit too reliant on keeping in good with his friends and, unfortunately, not choosing good people to be friends with.”

  “What about the other policeman? Is he going to be all right?” I asked.

  “Yeah, we hope so. He’s had a decent knock to his head but he was coming round as the ambulance was loading him up to take him off to hospital. I’ll go in when I’m finished here and check on him. Poor bugger, it’s his first year on the job. Let’s hope it doesn’t put him off.”

  “Where’s Bruno?”

  Harris waved his torch towards a police car. “Giving a statement.”

  “Oh, do I need to do that too?”

  “No, we’ll get yours tomorrow. McTavish will be finished soon and you three will be able to get back into the warm. I’m looking forward to wrapping this up and getting home, myself.”

  I was about to agree when I remembered Simon.

  “Simon!” I exclaimed, getting me perplexed looks from both men. “The ex.” Gunna nodded, Harris still looked confused. “Detective Harris, can you come with me please? We have someone else we need you to take care of.”

  Bruno joined us while I was explaining my relationship with Simon and how my arrival for work was also my escape from his abuse. When I got to Simon’s assault on me and his attempted rape, Harris swore, ordered us to follow him and led us across the paddock at a fast jog. We caught up with him as he squeezed himself between the wires of the fence.

  “He’s in here,” Gunna said, hauling back the heavy garage door.

  But he wasn’t.

  Where Simon had been trussed securely, we thought, to a firmly attached piece of metal, the light from Harris’s torch framed just a gaping hole in the wall and a heap of splintered wood on the floor. A pair of wire cutters and a pile of severed cable ties lay on the adjacent work bench.

  “Damn and blast it!” Gunna swore. “I knew that wood was getting soft. I was gunna replace it.”

  “He can’t have gone far,” Harris said, sweeping the beam of the torch around as if he expected to find him hiding under the car.

  “Just back to Wellington,” I said. “He must have had a car parked up somewhere. My guess is, he’s running back to mummy as fast
as he can.”

  “Right. Let’s go back up to the woolshed so I can use my car’s radio. I’ll send someone to check out Momona airport and we’ll catch him if he tries to get on a plane. You can give me his details as we walk.”

  Harris and I automatically headed towards the fence but Gunna called our attention to the ground in the opposite direction.

  “Look! Swing the light over here. He went this way. Towards the lake.”

  The flattened grass didn’t look much different to me but Harris nodded in agreement.

  “Good spotting, but there’s no point following him in the dark. If he hasn’t made his way to the road and hitched a lift, he won’t get far, and if he has hitched a lift we’ll pick him up when he tries to fly back to Wellington. Either way, us floundering about in the dark isn’t going to help. Ms North, you need to go inside and get yourself warm, you’re shivering. I’m going to go back up to my car so I can call this in and organise some of those eager young constables to round up this guy as soon as it gets light.”

  I was shivering, with cold but also with a new-found fear. Simon was still out there, hunting me.

  “What if Gunna’s wrong and Simon’s already inside the house, waiting for me to return?” I asked. “I’m not sure I want to go back inside.”

  But Gunna was right. The three men searched the house, opening wardrobes and even pulling back the bookcase entry to the secret rooms, which had Harris gasping in wonder. With all the lights turned on and no places left unsearched, I began to relax, the tension that had kept me upright giving way to tiredness as the fear faded away. Wrapped cocoon-like in a blanket, I curled up on the couch, vaguely aware of Harris leaving and Bruno stoking the fire with more wood before I fell asleep.