Southern Sunset: Book One of 44 South

by Nicola Claire

  Nasty, vile, evil little man. I took a step toward him as Sheila called out, “Got it!”

  And then the mechanic’s shop across the road exploded.

  Chapter 50

  Who Else Would I Contact?

  Luke

  Tasman Road was in lockdown. It was Devon McIntyre who’d phoned me. He’d been called in on the volunteer fire brigade to contain the fires that had started. Police tape cordoned off one end of the road, but it wasn’t manned. I was guessing the other end would have been the same.

  Maggie wasn’t answering her phone. And Matt couldn’t get through to the station. I watched as Mac and Matt lifted the tape and stepped underneath it. I made to follow.

  Matt turned around and looked at me. I gave him my most determined stare. He nodded. And then I slipped under the tape as well.

  Marinkovich’s Garage looked like a blackened hole. The police station had soot all over the weatherboards and the windows had been blown out. An ambulance sat outside, across the street from the now smouldering shell of the mechanic’s shop. I could see shadows moving inside.

  “Matt,” I called, nodding toward the ambulance.

  “I’ll check it,” he said, holding up a hand for me to stay back.

  Fuck that. I followed and looked over his shoulder as he opened the rear door to the truck after giving it a sharp rap.

  “It’s Senior Sergeant Drake,” he announced.

  The paramedic from Maggie’s accident was leaning over a supine form. For a second, that night on Mount Cook Road returned, consuming my thoughts, clenching my heart. Then I noticed the shiny shoes poking out from beneath the white blanket.

  “What have you got?” Matt asked.

  “Shrapnel to the back of his head. Glass,” the paramedic explained, “from when the explosion blew the windows of the police station in.”

  “Anyone else hurt?”

  “Couple of scrapes and bruises, maybe ringing in the ears of your guys.” He looked out of the side window of the ambulance at the Garage. “Not sure about over there. You’d have to ask the fire chief.”

  “And this guy?” Matt asked.

  “Oh, he’ll be fine.”

  “I am not fine, young man!” a familiar, obnoxious voice said. “I’m bleeding!”

  “And conscious,” the paramedic drawled.

  Matt smiled and closed the door before Everett really got going.

  “Where’s Maggie?” I demanded.

  Matt looked toward the burned out shell of the building across the street. “From what little I know of Sergeant Blackmore, she’ll be in there somewhere.”

  Bloody woman. I followed Matt toward one of the firemen, my eyes scanning constantly for Maggie.

  I spotted Mac bending down over Annmarie as she sat on the side of the road a little ways along. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and Sheila was holding her hand, but otherwise she just looked riled. My bet, she was arguing with Mac about getting up and helping Maggie in amongst what was left of the fire.

  “Where’s Devon?” Matt asked the young fireman.

  “In there. With the body.”

  Matt stilled. I stopped breathing. My mind told me it couldn’t be Maggie - why would she have been there and not Annmarie? - but I hadn’t seen her yet, so my heart gave me a multitude of reasons to start yelling.

  “Jesus,” Matt said, wiping a hand over his face. “Do we know who yet?”

  The fireman shrugged his shoulders. “No idea. Maybe the chief can answer that for you.”

  Matt nodded his head, then turned to look back at me. “You up for this?”

  “Don’t ask me to stay out of that building,” I growled.

  “OK, just… keep it together.” I nodded.

  We stepped over charred wood and twisted metal, and burn marks on the pavement that had large gouges. I glanced back at the police station and noted some of the soot was masking more grievous damage. I was betting a few nuts and wrenches had gone flying. Everett was lucky to only be bleeding from glass fragments.

  “Good God,” Matt said, looking at the carnage. “This is…” his voice trailed off.

  “Military grade explosives,” Maggie said into the stunned silence.

  I turned to see her, almost tripping over myself to reach her side. She gripped my arm once I made it, holding my gaze with a steady one of her own. It said a lot, that look. It told me she was holding it together. That she was mad as hell and determined to get to the bottom of this. But, also, if I so much as wrapped her up in my arms she’d crumble.

  “You OK?” I rasped.

  “Fine,” she replied.

  “Later,” I promised, giving her a pertinent look. She nodded her head and released my arm.

  It took everything in me to step back and let her do her job.

  “Military grade?” Matt queried, once he saw she was focused.

  “Not your standard fertiliser bomb, that’s for sure,” she supplied.

  “Why not just a gas leak? Could have been a propane bottle explosion.”

  Maggie shook her head. “Fuse wires and timer,” she nodded over to where Devon stood looking down at a deep crater.

  “Something survived this?” I asked, dumbfounded.

  Maggie’s face lost all emotion. “One body. Over there.” She nodded toward a car lift, the small vehicle that would have been on it leaning at an angle against the wall.

  “Marinkovich?” Matt snarled. It would be too easy a death for the fucker.

  Maggie shook her head. “No positive ID as yet, but moments before this happened, I only spotted his assistant working over here.”

  “Shit,” Matt said, sounding like the world was crushing down on his shoulders. “He was just a young kid. From Pukaki.”

  Maggie looked down at the ground, lost in her own thoughts.

  “You sure this is intentional?” Matt asked.

  Maggie looked up again and then surveyed the room. “The chief is pretty sure.”

  At the sound of his title, Devon McIntyre pulled himself away from his assessment and strolled toward us.

  “Shit on a stick, boys,” he said. “But this sucks.”

  “Yeah,” Matt and I said in unison.

  “What can you tell me?” Matt asked.

  “Never seen anything like it in person,” Devon said. “But I sure as hell have talked to Zach enough times to know what it is.” Our brother did like to blow things up from time to time.

  Thank God he was better at investigating military incidents. Or at least the army seemed to think so and put him there.

  “Looks like military issue, but I can’t be sure until I make a few phone calls,” Devon said.

  “Don’t limit yourself to just the NZ Army,” Maggie said. Devon swung to look at her.

  “Who else would I contact?”

  Maggie pursed her lips and looked around the garage. The damage was extensive. Marinkovich’s office was gone, the bomb almost centred there. But so were the two bays and the storage room. Maggie’s eyes, though, were all for the former office.

  “Croatia,” she said. “Check Croatian military ordinance.”

  Matt caught her eye and then looked at what was left of the office.

  “He’s covering his tracks.” Maggie nodded. Matt looked across the street to the police station. “He met her here.” Maggie didn’t say a word.

  Matt’s already bruised fist went through the charred remains of a workbench, ash and charcoal flying through the air.

  Chapter 51

  Thanks

  Maggie

  The station was full of people. Thankfully none of them were IPCA Investigator Mark Everett. I placed a cup of coffee down in front of Senior Sergeant Malcolm Carter of Omarama Police and took a sip of my own.

  “OK,” he said, catching Matt’s eye. “We’ll handle the house, if you handle the storage sheds.”

  Matt hadn’t been happy about being left out of the main attraction. But if Missy Drake had met Ivan Marinkovich in his home, I did n
ot want Matt anywhere near there. The storage sheds were bad enough. We’d determined he owned one, so that was where Matt, Annmarie and Mac were heading.

  I was sticking close to Carter’s arse, watching over his shoulder. I didn’t for a second think we’d catch Marinkovich red handed. But there could be something at the address that pointed the finger. Marinkovich’s past was a murky quagmire of misdirection. His identity didn’t seem false, but it also wasn’t legit either. A lot of people who fled the Yugoslav War started their lives all over again with no formal identification. If he’d been a refugee, he might have taken on a new identity once he reached another country’s borders.

  Of course, I was putting my money on Sheila having got it right from the start. Marinkovich was ex-military. I was holding judgement on him being a sleeper cell, though, but the guy certainly had a lot to answer for.

  “All right, we’ll move out in five,” Matt said. “If he’s capable of blowing up his own mechanic’s shop, he’s capable of anything. Don’t lower your guard. Stick with your team. And expect anything.”

  “I’ll just add,” Carter said, “if you see anything that looks dodgy, say… explosives or a ticking timer, sound the alarm and get the hell out of there. No mucking around. We pull back and call in the army.”

  “Agreed,” Matt said.

  “Then let’s do this,” Carter replied. They shared a look and then everyone piled outside, going to their respective teams.

  “Maggie,” Matt called. I hesitated halfway between the station and Carter’s vehicle. I still didn’t have one, so I’d called shotgun on Carter’s car.

  “Yeah?” I said as Matt approached.

  “Thanks,” he said simply. “Regardless of what happens today. Thank you for what you’ve done.”

  “It’s my job, Matt.”

  “No,” he said on a smile so similar to Luke’s I could only stare. “It’s your calling, Maggie Blackmore. Believing the best in people despite the obvious. Never stopping to dig for the truth even when it’s buried so far down it doesn’t seem worth it.”

  “You’re worth it,” I said. “Rachel and Dani are, too.” Missy was as well, but I didn’t say it.

  I’d always speak for the dead.

  “Yes,” he said. “They are. That’s why…” he stopped, looked toward Carter who was waiting by his open car door, and then scrubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

  “You’re going to be OK, Matt,” I said softly, leaning closer to deliver the words. I caught his eye. “Sometimes you have to have a hole to climb out of to appreciate the fresh air.”

  “Some hole.”

  “Some are bigger than others,” I agreed.

  “Let’s do this, yeah?” Carter called out. Matt nodded.

  “Take care, Sergeant,” Matt said.

  “You too,” I replied and then jogged to Carter’s car.

  Chapter 52

  Copy

  Luke

  I watched Maggie and Matt share a word on the scorched lawn in front of the station and then they were gone. My chest ached. For the first time in my life I regretted not going to police college with Matt when he’d first suggested it. Being the eldest born son, it’d always been expected that I’d follow in the old man’s footsteps. Matt, Justin, Zach and Finn had been free to pursue whatever they wanted.

  Dad would have understood if I’d hankered for something else. Or rather, he’d have accepted it. And Justin would have been just as capable of filling the station manager shoes as any one of us. But there was this unspoken rule, this belief, that I’d be the one to take over.

  Hell, Dad started grooming me for the job from the age of three. My first memories are of the shearing shed, the smell of lanolin, and the buzz of the blades.

  I stared out at the deserted street and wished in that moment that I hadn’t fallen in love with the woollies. With Red Tussock.

  And then I sucked it up and pulled out my phone. Dad didn’t answer his cell, so I tried their landline at the retirement village. No go there either.

  An unsettling feeling entered my gut.

  Just then Sheila turned up the police radio and we caught word of the first warrant served. Both the Omarama crew along with Maggie and Matt’s team were striking at the same time. But it was Carter’s voice over the airwaves we heard first.

  “OM1. Comms.”

  “Comms. OM1. Go ahead,” the dispatcher in Christchurch answered.

  “10-7.”

  “Copy.”

  Then silence. I waited for Matt’s voice. It took so long to come, I’d started sweating.

  “TZ1. Comms. 10-7.” Thank fuck.

  “Comms. TZ1. Copy. OM1 10-7. Over.”

  “Copy.”

  “They’re on site,” Sheila whispered. “They’ll go in now.”

  We waited.

  I had no idea what was happening to Maggie. So, I paced. And Sheila wrung her hands. And I kicked one of the plastic waiting area chairs. And Sheila shuffled the community flyers, replacing them in their stand in alphabetical order.

  Sweat coated my skin. A tingling started up in my fingers. This would be what it would be like. If she stayed. If she agreed to be mine forever. I’d always known Matt’s job held risks. When Grayson got shot we were on tenterhooks for months. And although there was always a low level hum of fear for my brother. Right now, for Maggie, it raged.

  She was good at her job. I knew that. She was level headed under pressure. She’d turned up here, taken one look at Twizel, and figured it all out. Despite our quirks and our small town characteristics, despite a drunken boss and a murder case within the first month of arriving, Maggie had stolen all of our hearts. Not just mine.

  Sheila adored her. Annmarie worshipped her. Matt respected her.

  I was in love with her.

  I sent a prayer up to the heavens that she’d make it home tonight. Once this was over, I was going to do everything in my power to convince Maggie Blackmore to stay. Twizel needed her.

  And so did I.

  “TZ1. Comms,” Matt’s voice came over the radio. I stilled in my pacing. Sheila dropped several pamphlets.

  “Comms. TZ1. Go ahead.”

  “One vehicle in storage. Black Ford Ranger. Damaged.”

  “Copy.”

  “White paint transfer.”

  Son of a bitch. They had him. He’d sideswiped Maggie.

  “OM1. Comms.” I held my breath.

  “Comms. OM1. Go ahead.”

  “No one home at the address. Signs of a rapid departure.”

  He was fleeing. Bugger!

  “Copy.”

  “We’ll be 10-3 in five.”

  I didn’t hear the dispatcher’s answer; my cell phone had started to buzz in my pocket. I hauled it out, checked the screen, seeing Dad’s name, and swiped to open the call.

  “Good timing, we’ve just heard back from Matt,” I said in way of greeting.

  “Has he found my surprise yet?” a strongly accented voice demanded.

  Chills washed down my spine and I slowly pulled the phone away from my ear, checking the caller. Dad. It said ‘Dad’.

  I brought it back up to my ear and growled, “What have you done with my father?”

  Chapter 53

  We’re Here If You Need Us

  Maggie

  There were pictures of Missy on his bedroom wall. All over it. Like a shrine. Pictures of her shopping at the grocery store. Of her walking into the Twizel Police Station. Of her with the twins. With Matt. With her in-laws.

  Pictures of her naked in bed and smiling.

  I stared at the carefully pinned images and couldn’t quite figure out why.

  “He blew up the garage,” I said, stunned.

  “He wasn’t covering his tracks,” Carter agreed from beside me.

  I stared at a photo of Missy Drake, hair blowing in the wind, Mount Cook behind her.

  “Why leave this here for us to find?”

  “He’s a sociopathic sadist,” Carter said. “Revelling in it. H
e expected Matt to be the one to walk in here first.”

  “Revenge,” I said. “It’s all about revenge.”

  “Yeah. He blames Matt for Missy’s death. He blames you for uncovering his identity. The bomb at the garage was designed to cause as much collateral damage as possible. Maybe he thought you’d be serving the warrant by then.” I would have been if Everett hadn’t waylaid me. “But he had a different surprise lined up for Matt.”

  “This,” I said, my chest aching. We both stared at the collage before us.

  “Yeah. This.”

  “Matt will want to see it.”

  Carter let out a sigh. “I can’t stop him, Sergeant. But is he up to it? I’ve heard… things.”

  I turned and looked the senior sergeant in the eyes.

  “He knows his job, sir. He’s good at it. He’s just had a bad few months.”

  “Don’t doubt it. But we live under a cloud of suspicion at the best of times. Our every move watched and commented on. One slip up and it’s over. Your boy is sliding.”

  Not if I could help it. I nodded.

  “OK, your call,” Carter said and walked out of the room to check on the others. I pulled my cell phone out and texted Matt.

  It took him all of a minute to arrive.

  I was leaning against the wall of the hallway, outside Marinkovich’s bedroom. Matt bounded up the creaking wooden steps and came to an abrupt halt before me.

  “What did you find?” he demanded. Mac appeared over his shoulder, his mirrored shades tucked into his vest pocket, his jaw clenched, his eyes hard on mine.

  “It was him, Matt,” I said and watched as all emotion was shut down. “He’s a sadist, you understand that?” He didn’t move a muscle. “Not to her, I don’t think. There’s no evidence of that. But you.” I shook my head. “You he’s fucking with.”