Southern Sunset: Book One of 44 South

by Nicola Claire

  No, I couldn’t see any. My heart thudded away inside my chest.

  “But,” she said, voice lowering as if to whisper. “Hers is not the only set of tyre marks on the road.”

  I looked down at Annmarie. My heart had stopped beating completely. “What do you mean?”

  “Remember the paint transfer?” I nodded my head. “She made contact with another vehicle before she lost control. Both cars spun, but the vehicle she hit gained traction early, and managed to untangle itself from her car.”

  I looked back down the road from the direction Maggie and been coming and then turned around and looked past Mac’s car toward Pukaki. The road was eerily quiet outside of the rescue crew’s high powered halogen lights.

  “Where’s the car?” I asked.

  “That’s the thing. Who crashes into a police car, leaving an officer trapped in her vehicle, and then bolts?”

  I looked back at her. My mind whirring. Bile coating the back of my tongue. “She was run off the road.” My fists ached with how hard I was clenching them.

  “Well,” Annmarie said. “It does look suspicious.”

  Matt walked over then and my heart started thundering all over again.

  “Is she awake?” I demanded.

  “She wasn’t at first. She is now,” he said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “They’re about to get her out. This could get rough, Luke. Steady yourself.”

  I nodded, my body strung tight, my hands still fisted.

  I wanted to hit something. I wanted to rage and shout. I wanted to hold Maggie in my arms, see for myself that she was all right. Sweep her fringe out of her eyes; it was always bugging her, but she didn’t cut it. Why didn’t she cut it? I loved that fringe.

  Oh, fuck. This was bad. Maggie.

  “How bad is she?” I asked, my eyes trained on the firemen and paramedics.

  Looking for Maggie. Praying to God.

  “We won’t know the extent of her injuries until we extricate her completely from the vehicle.”

  I knew my brother well, that was his police voice; he was holding out on me. I understood intellectually what he was doing. But, as far as Maggie was concerned, I’d passed ‘intellectually’ days ago.

  She was mine. She was part of me now. When Maggie hurt, I hurt.

  And Maggie was hurting now.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” I demanded.

  “Luke, it’s…”

  And then Maggie was screaming and I was running and I felt every single bit of her pain along with her.

  Chapter 43

  Slightly Bonkers And Growing On Me

  Maggie

  Motherfucker, but that hurt. At least I could feel my legs again.

  “Easy, Sergeant,” a paramedic said.

  “You go easy!” I growled back. “This hurts like a motherfucker!”

  “That’s the spirit,” the chief fire officer said.

  “Maggie!” someone shouted. I tried to turn my head.

  “Stay still, Sergeant,” the paramedic urged. “We’ve almost got you.”

  “Maggie!”

  Luke?

  “Maggie!”

  “Someone hold him back!” the fire chief ordered.

  “Maggie! Oomph!”

  “Someone’s keen to see you,” the chief drawled.

  I smiled, it hurt my cheeks. Hell, I was hurting everywhere.

  “Tell him I’m OK,” I said.

  “Who Luke?” the chief asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Hey, Luke!” he called out. “The sergeant said to tell you she’s OK.”

  Silence.

  “Did he hear you?”

  The chief looked embarrassed. “Ah, yeah. He’s, ah, overcome.”

  “Luke?” I called.

  “Bloody hell, don’t you start,” the chief said.

  “Maggie!”

  “Jesus, it’s like being in a teen flick.”

  “Luke!”

  “Oh, for the love of God, let them see each other.”

  “Maggie,” Luke said, suddenly appearing above me. I reached up with my IV lined arm and gripped his hand.

  “Hey!” I said.

  “Maggie,” he repeated, laying his forehead against mine. “Fuck.”

  He was crying, I realised. Holy shit. This big, bad farmer was crying.

  “It’s OK,” I reassured him. “I’m OK.”

  “You’re stuck in a fucking car.”

  “Not anymore,” the chief said. “And she’d be out of it by now if you two could just control your hormones.”

  Luke turned his head and growled at the man.

  “OK,” the chief said slowly, “we’ll give you a minute. Don’t move, Sergeant.”

  “Not going anywhere,” I offered.

  “Funny. Bloody JAFAs.” But it was said with more affection than I’d heard the term spoken with before.

  “Maggie,” Luke said, clearly unable to use bigger words.

  “It was a ute,” I said. He blinked. “Black, that’s all I could see. No number plate, so I can’t be sure. But it looked like a Ford Ranger.”

  “Fucking hell,” Luke spat, gripping my fingers almost too tightly.

  I winced.

  “Where do you hurt?” he demanded.

  “My fingers?”

  “Oh.” He eased his grip. “Where else?”

  I catalogued my aches, they were dimming. Shouldn’t they get worse once adrenaline wears off?

  “Um, not too bad actually. Now they’ve got my legs out, they’ve stopped hurting.”

  He looked down into what was left of the driver’s side well.

  “Shit.” Then he regained control of himself. “Your boots are fucked, but they look like they protected your feet. There’s some tears in your uniform, a little blood.”

  I smiled up at him.

  “What?”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome?”

  “For not holding back.” I wasn’t sure if I meant his honesty in assessing my injuries - no one so far had done that, not even Matt - or whether I meant his attempts to reach me.

  “Time’s up,” the chief said. “Kiss your girl and we’ll get her out, yeah?”

  “Fuck off, Devon,” Luke growled back.

  “Give him a shot of something,” the chief said to the paramedic.

  “Ah,” the paramedic managed.

  “Come shearing season, you’re on your own,” Luke muttered.

  “Come shearing season, I’ll be raking in triple for my wool compared to yours and’ll be able to afford a fleet of shearers, so sod off.”

  “Arsehole.”

  “Prick.”

  The chief slapped Luke on the shoulder in a friendly manner. Luke took one look down at me, lips thinned, and then leaned in and kissed me on the forehead.

  “Jesus, if that’s what you call a kiss, then you’re in trouble. Sergeant,” he added, pushing Luke out of the way, “when you get tired of old limp lips here, cross over his western pastures and you’ll find my place. Don’t bother knocking, just come on in.”

  “Sure thing, chief,” I said.

  “Maggie,” Luke called over the rescue crews’ shoulders. I found his eyes above the throng of firemen. “I’m right here, babe.”

  “No pet names,” I said on a gasp, as the brace they’d placed around my body shifted.

  “Get used to it,” he called back.

  I groaned. It could have been for his persistence or for the fact that being jostled around - albeit carefully - made aches that had dimmed flare back to life.

  “If you hurt my woman, Devon McIntyre,” Luke growled, “I’m going to slash all of your tyres.”

  The chief looked down at me and smiled. “Got yourself a winner there, Sergeant.”

  “I know,” I said, voice a mere gasp.

  “Hang in there,” he urged.

  I bit my bottom lip. The brace tightened, my legs came free, blood rushed into extremities. I held back the scream that wanted out, aware that
Luke was watching.

  Then finally my back hit a stretcher, straps were quickly placed across me, and we started moving toward a waiting ambulance.

  “One tough lady,” the fire chief said, handing off to the paramedic.

  “Better believe it,” Luke replied, climbing up into the truck behind the stretcher.

  “You’ll do all right, Sergeant,” the chief said. “You’ve got what it takes to handle Twizel.”

  “Don’t know about that,” I said, feeling better again now that I was completely flat. And not trapped. And Luke was beside me. “Twizel’s a mystery.”

  “No mystery to it,” the chief said, beginning to close the doors to the truck. “Just be yourself and everyone else will be.”

  It was as if he didn’t realise they were all slightly bonkers.

  Slightly bonkers and growing on me.

  Chapter 44

  How Do You Know?

  Luke

  I took Maggie home from Timaru Hospital the next day. I’d stayed with her overnight as they’d checked for concussion, after ascertaining she hadn’t broken any bones or suffered internal injuries. She’d been lucky, they’d said. I disagreed. She’d strained her thumbs, holding on to the steering wheel too tightly when she’d hit the tree. Had cuts over her lower legs from the mangled engine’s firewall, and a bruise across her chest where the seat belt had bit in. Her neck ached a little and she was dizzy when she stood too quickly, but she refused a wheelchair to the exit and walked. I walked beside her, ready to catch her if need be, proud that I didn’t have to.

  Maggie was a fighter.

  “What’s Matt say?” she asked, as I held the ute’s door open for her to climb into. She took her time, but managed it without wincing.

  “All Red Tussock utes are accounted for. The only one with damage is Matt’s and that’s no different from when you last saw it. He’s searching the NZTA for black utes in the vicinity, but this is Mackenzie Country so both the style of vehicle and colour is popular.”

  I closed the door on her frowning face and rushed to the driver’s side to continue the conversation.

  “He’s also got Mac and Annmarie out on patrol,” I said, starting the truck up, “pulling over very single ute they come across and inspecting it.”

  “The driver will have stashed it by now,” Maggie advised.

  “Probably,” I agreed. “But he’ll make another mistake before long. Matt says he’s got too confident in his abilities to evade detection. Matt has a solid alibi, his own ute was right outside the homestead, he can’t be linked to your accident. If that was the guy’s intention all along, that is.”

  “It’s been his motive so far,” she conceded, “but that doesn’t mean he didn’t alter it to suit his needs. 1080 was missing from the Mount Cook DOC office and sightings of a Red Tussock ute in the village have been confirmed. No license plate,” she added. “But more than one corroboration of there being a RED Ranger up there.”

  Jesus. “Who the hell would head up to Mount Cook in one of our trucks?”

  “Is there a way of telling which one was missing?” She didn’t sound too hopeful. We’d already been over this.

  “No. But I think I might ground them all. Park ‘em up and lock the keys in my safe.”

  “We know he’s got another truck, he’ll have access to more. It won’t stop him, but it will stop Red Tussock being tied to anymore vehicle related crimes.”

  I nodded my head, already planning on parking the utes.

  “Sounds like Matt’s back working,” Maggie asked carefully.

  “He hasn’t touched a drop of whisky since Tuesday.”

  “Good for him.”

  “He’s cranky as shit, but then, that IPCA dickhead’s still at the station, watching everything he says and does.”

  She let out a sigh, staring out of the window and watching the scenery fly by.

  “He thinks I know something,” she said to the glass.

  “Who? The IPCA dickhead?”

  “No.” She narrowed her eyes at the snow accumulated on the side of the roadway. “The killer. He thinks I know more than I do.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know, but something’s got him spooked. What happened on Tuesday that could have triggered last night?”

  “Matt sobered up?”

  “That could be a catalyst in making him angry; his plan’s not working as it should. He wants Matt off centre; alienated; disgracing himself. But that’s not why he drove me off the road.”

  I grimaced at the reminder of what happened. ‘Driving off the road’ was a euphemism if ever there was one. The killer had tried to kill Maggie.

  “What else?” she mused softly, tracing a line from one raindrop to another on the frosted window. I reached forward and turned up the heat.

  “You found out about the 1080,” I suggested.

  “Yeah, maybe he made a mistake up on Mount Cook. Maybe I didn’t ask the right people. I just stuck to the DOC staff, I should have knocked on a few doors.”

  “You’re just one person, Maggie. Let Matt send someone else up there next time.”

  She smiled; it was the fake one. She knew I didn’t want her driving that road any time soon.

  “Matt order me a new car yet?” she asked.

  “He wants you to take it easy for a few days. Recover, you know?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Maggie.”

  “I’m fine,” she snapped. Then let out a sigh. “I’m fine,” she said more softly. “Just…”

  She needed to talk about it. Her brother, at a guess, hadn’t talked about a thing when it all went down at that Court House. He’d probably thought he had to hold it inside, be the tough cop he was expected to be. Not show any weakness. Be a man. But this was Maggie. I willed her to open up even as I sat silently, letting her find her feet.

  She let out a long breath of air. “I was scared,” she said quietly.

  “Yeah,” I said, knowing pressing her would make her clam up again.

  “I thought I was going to die.”

  “Ah, fuck, Maggie.”

  “I don’t remember hitting the tree. He could have pulled over and come back and finished me. Why didn’t he finish me?”

  “Someone else was on the road,” I said. “Headlights, maybe. He couldn’t stay. The call came in not long after you spun out. They reckon the engine was still running, bits of the tree still falling. He couldn’t come back.”

  “Who found me?”

  “Some hikers returning from a day on the mountain. They administered first aid and called for assistance.”

  “Who the hell hikes Mount Cook in the winter?”

  “Hardcore mountaineers. Matt’s done it. So’s Zach. They always used to compete with each other.”

  “And Missy?”

  I ducked my chin, scowling. “Yeah. They competed over her, too.” That wasn’t what she’d asked, I realised.

  “Where’s Zach stationed?”

  “All over. He’s military police.”

  “Serving on the right side of the law’s in you Drake boys’ blood, huh?”

  “What? Not all of us have a thing to prove.”

  She laughed. “Finn’s a lawyer. Matt’s a senior sergeant. Zach’s in the military police. What about Justin? Any aspirations to fight the good fight?”

  “Justin just wants to photograph shit and make good wine.”

  “Someone’s gotta support the heroes with good wine,” she pointed out.

  “Or whisky.”

  “Maybe Matt should start brewing that.”

  “He’d drink all his profits.” We both fell silent.

  “He’ll be OK, Luke,” she finally said, reaching over and touching my thigh.

  My hand came down off the steering wheel and engulfed her smaller one, fingers lacing together.

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  She didn’t. I was sure of it. She was just the kind of person who held out hope. Hope that good people won their
battles. That her brother would start talking again and Matt would be proved innocent. That the twins weren’t doomed to a life of silence.

  “I don’t,” she said, honestly. “But I’ll keep fighting for it, regardless.”

  Chapter 45

  Words Failed Me

  Maggie

  I watched the girls playing with their dolls on the lounge room floor. Not a sound came out of their mouths. They’d change their outfits, brush their hair, place sticker tattoos all over their plastic bodies, and make not a peep of noise.

  Then Dani reached forward and grabbed Rachel’s doll and tore her last tattoo off.

  Even fighting they didn’t make a sound. Rachel glared at Dani. Her twin sister glared back, the sticker scrunched up in her little fist. I waited to see how the argument would resolve itself, but all Rachel did was slowly nod her head.

  Then they returned to redressing their dolls.

  “Hey, there you are,” Luke said, walking into the lounge with two cups of coffee. “You girls keeping Maggie company?”

  They ignored him, but I saw Rachel flick me a brief glance.

  “We’ve had three catwalk shows, so far,” I told him, accepting the coffee cup. He carefully sat down beside me on the couch.

  “How’re you feeling?” he asked, taking a sip from his own mug.

  “Stir crazy,” I admitted. “I need to get out there.”

  “Give it a day, Maggie. You’re black and blue all over, you’d scare the locals.”

  “Har har,” I said, smirking into my cup. Truth was, I did ache all over. But sitting still would only make it worse.

  I needed to start chasing down some leads.

  “Has Matt managed to serve that warrant?” I asked.

  “He said Alicia parted with her video surveillance tapes with the utmost decorum.” I snorted. “And then had the flying fish whack him on the head on his way out of her shop.”

  I laughed. I liked Alicia Parsons. That woman had a certain style. Twizel-esque with a hint of class.

  “Everett still at the station?”