New Du Rose Matriarch

by Bowes, K T

  “He ran at me,” ginger cop whinged. “I’d have been flattened!”

  Tama lay on the ground still twitching. The voltage had ceased but someone forgot to tell his body. Sharp pains in his chest made him groan and the cop yanked the pins out without care. Tama was incapacitated and recognised the sensation of dribble sliding down the side of his mouth and into his ear. He heard himself moan incoherently as the men turned him over and handcuffed him, his face pushed into the dusty earth. Soil mixed with the dribble and made a mess. He was sick into the grass, unable to stop himself retching more as they hauled him upright.

  They read him his rights and Tama nodded his head as they hauled him upright. He tried to say Hana’s name but it came out garbled. The older man stared into his face, looking concerned. “You alright, son?” he asked and Tama shook his head as the fizzing continued to spread out from his chest.

  “You’re an idiot!” the man spat at his colleague. The ginger guy opened his mouth to speak and his colleague shook his head. “Save it for the boss!”

  The white transit van belonging to the tradesmen pulled up onto the grass with a squeal, riding the curb like it wasn’t there. Shock from the Taser addled Tama’s brain, coupled with a memory of the older man planting flower beds near the staff units only yesterday. The day felt surreal and his head swam with a collage of disjointed memories.

  The back door of the van opened and Tama was shoved up the steps and inside its darkened rear. He fell up the last step, his legs operating like collapsing jelly.

  “What did you do to him?” Blue eyes observed the bedraggled teen with suspicion. The older man shoved Tama roughly into a seat and jerked his head backwards towards the ginger guy.

  “Rookie enthusiasm!” he spat angrily. “Tasered him.”

  Tama observed the inside of the transit through eyes misted with pain and confusion and his cuffs dragged along the bench seat. One wall of the van contained computers and a tech sat with headphones on, speaking into a radio. His brain made the leap from the men being tradies to cops, but this wasn’t usual cop transport. Tama closed his eyes and his head rolled back, allowing the fizzing in his nerve endings to stop. With it came the memory of his task and he leapt up with a foul oath on his lips.

  The other occupant of the van raised his hand to stop Tama. “Don’t try it!” he warned. His smart grey suit looked incongruous against the scruffy appearance of the other men and he stared at Tama hard with his piercing blue eyes. Then he let out a wail of pure anger, accompanied by a swear word to rival Tama’s. “You picked up a bloody Du Rose!” he shouted at the gardener-cop, “You bunch of freaken’ idiots!”

  “Hana!” Tama heaved out the word and the suited man’s eyes widened.

  “Where is she?” he demanded. “Why were you following her?”

  “No, no,” Tama groaned and lurched towards the doors, his hands still cuffed behind his back. The suited man flung them open with a huff of exasperation, sconning the ginger cop in the forehead. Tama stumbled after him and leaned against the side of the van, peering down the hill to the car park below.

  Day’s Landing appeared peaceful and swans marched around, picking up the aftermath of lunchtime’s generous visitors. The smart Mercedes was nowhere to be seen and Hana Du Rose was gone.

  Chapter 23

  Tama stood on the grass and raked the horizon with frantic eyes, hopelessness growing in his heart as he acknowledged Hana was no longer there. Her small shape in the distance sitting on the curb left a vacuum by its absence. Tama’s legs shook with the after effects of the Taser and he vomited on the ground, his hands still held behind his back by the metallic cuffs. His brain repeated over and over like a broken record, she’s gone, Hana’s gone, she’s gone.

  When he stood up straight, spitting bile from his mouth, Tama struggled to wipe his face on the damp tee shirt covering his shoulder. He felt someone’s gaze on his face and saw the young cop staring at him, relishing his discomfort with a veiled smirk.

  Kane Du Rose enjoyed making Tama into a fighter. Maybe he hoped it would get him locked up one day, bringing shame on his doctor father; not that Michael ever showed an interest in the boy. Kane taught Tama to fight dirty, extracting himself from situations he shouldn’t have been in. He regretted it the day he gave Tama one beating too many and the boy fought back, breaking his nose.

  Tama eyed the cop, hating him with a passion he hadn’t felt since Hana accepted him. The stupid smirk on the foolish man’s face was the trigger and Tama was the weapon. He let out a guttural snarl and as the detective sergeant saw the young man step forward, he knew instinctively what was coming. “Don’t!” he shouted.

  He wasn’t quick enough. Figuring the criminal was handcuffed, the other cops stood by and watched, believing Tama intended to run. “Watch this,” a young cop in a ratty pair of shorts and a muscle top laughed. They’d seen crims in handcuffs run heaps of times. It was hilarious, especially the dramatic face plant.

  But Tama didn’t run away, he launched himself at the pale face beneath the unruly ginger curls and head butted the man full in the face. Tama was blessed with a hard forehead and heard the cop’s nose cartilage twang into a few different parts. The police officer sank like a brick, clutching his face as blood streamed off his chin and onto his stubby shorts. Tama grinned nastily. “That’s for Hana!” he spat, a bruise beginning on his forehead.

  The other cops dragged Tama onto the floor and turned him face down, one of them sitting on his flailing legs while another tended to the man moaning on the ground. The sound of the smart cop’s voice cut through their grunting. “Let him go!”

  The officer who looked like the school gardener shook his head. “No way! He assaulted a police officer!”

  “Seriously?” Tama saw the smart suit pants appear next to his face. “You wanna do this? He’s protecting a family member and you muppets arrest him and lose her? You honestly wanna go there?”

  Tama laughed, his chest compressed by the weight of the other men, but the memory of the empty car park induced another bout of vomiting.

  “Get off him!” the smart cop barked. “And the only reason I’m pissed is because I wanted to smack that rookie myself. Get that idiot out of my sight and let him go!”

  Tama sensed the pressure go out of his legs as the cop got off. Someone released the handcuffs with a horrid grating sound and he sat up, rubbing the back of his hand across his filthy face. He glared at the bleeding cop who quailed and squirmed under his gaze. The smart cop indicated Tama should get into the van and he climbed the steps, this time of his own volition. The man extended his hand out towards Tama. “Detective Sergeant Odering,” he said, seeing the light of realisation go on in Tama’s eyes. “I’m sorry we meet in these circumstances, but we need to get Hana back. Tell me what you know.”

  Logan met them at the police station with a wailing Phoenix, his face ashen and filled with a hideous black torture. Tama took the child, finding the bottle in the change bag and attempting to feed her in Odering’s office. She wasn’t happy and screamed, a high pitched wail designed to summon her mother. After a while she gave up, her chest heaving and sporadic wails halting her progress through the bottle. Logan watched his daughter sucking at the bottle in surprise, his eyes narrowing. “Please tell me she didn’t plan this!” he hissed at Tama.

  Tama gulped and concentrated on the fractious child. The miserable hiccoughs accentuated her mother’s absence.

  They endured a difficult half hour while Odering explained Hana’s visit the week before to retract her statement. Logan leapt to his feet in fury as Tama filled in the gaps, relaying what Hana told him about Laval’s visits and the way he touched her with such familiarity. Unable to control his anger, Logan punched the wall, putting a fist-sized hole into the plasterboard. He shouted at Odering, “Why didn’t you tell me? I gave you the bloody sim card from her phone; you could see for yourself someone was threatening her! How hard could it be to pick him up? I should have dealt with this myself inst
ead of listening to you!”

  “It wasn’t that easy,” Odering protested. “It’s bigger than you realise.”

  “Na!” Logan shook his head. “You’ve played us from the start and now my wife’s bait for a psycho! If you’d said his real name from the beginning I wouldn’t have trusted you, but you knew that, didn’t you?” Logan swore and kicked the metal dustbin against the wall.

  “Look, let’s just talk about this.”

  “No!” Logan yelled. “Find my bloody wife!”

  “Everything ok detective?” The school gardener appeared in the doorway. Logan looked at the man strangely in his police uniform, no longer play acting.

  “We’re fine,” Odering assured the officer. “Any news?”

  The slight shake of the man’s head sent Logan into another round of pacing. “I can find Laval,” he insisted. “I know people.”

  Odering wouldn’t let him. “You stay here and you talk to nobody, Du Rose. I’m warning you.”

  “Whatever! You’ve never given a damn!” Logan said through gritted teeth.

  “That’s not true,” Odering countered. “My people followed your wife as soon as she left the building,” he protested. “Two of my officers followed her to a cafe over the bridge and stopped a man following her out to the car park. She seemed upset. She admitted in our conversation that someone was under threat but promised it wasn’t her.”

  “It was Uncle Logan,” Tama said. “Laval threatened to hurt him. Permanently.”

  Logan sank into his chair, deflating. The events of the last hour had aged him. He put his head in his hands and it was the most crestfallen Tama had ever seen him. When Caroline jilted him at the altar and Logan and Tama made the long journey back to the hotel to get changed out of their stupid suits, he didn’t look that bad. Not even the night both his birth parents burned alive could surpass the utter devastation on his olive face, as he contemplated life without Hana. Tama looked at his uncle sideways experiencing real fear. Logan always coped; but not with this. He couldn’t deal with this. “I can’t lose her twice,” Logan whispered to himself.

  The baby pushed away the teat, pulling her mouth sideways. Tama looked at the half empty bottle before laying it on the coffee table. He put the baby over his shoulder and tapped away, hearing the wind growl inside her belly as it constricted against his shoulder. She belched and farted at the same time and Tama resisted the urge to laugh. “Bugle-bum,” he murmured, repeating Hana’s pet name for her. He pushed the bottle back between her lips and she sucked again, shaking her fists in disgust and looking around for Hana’s more favourable alternative. “You think I’m a traitor, don’t you? I’ve let you and her down.” He fingered the bright pink fabric of her suit and pondered his failure.

  “Pink!” Logan snapped and stood up.

  “What?” Tama glanced up to find Logan looking at him with curious intensity.

  “Pink!” his uncle repeated and Odering and Tama looked at each other with concern. But the light was back on in Logan’s face and he pointed at Odering. “The phone,” he said with urgency. “The new one I gave her. It’s got a tracker on it. The guy loaded the app on for me at the shop and as long as she’s got it turned on, I can find her. Get me a computer.”

  Chapter 24

  Laval’s men stuffed Hana into the back of the Mercedes. She resisted, kicking and protesting as they hauled her off her feet. “No, you don’t understand!” She hit out at heads and chests with growing futility. “I couldn’t do it. The cops won’t let me!”

  The two guys grabbed her as soon as the wheels stopped rolling and Bodie’s self-defence lessons were wasted. Hana’s attempts to defend herself proved pointless and she didn’t get the opportunity to run as planned. When she wouldn’t shut up, one man clamped a large, sweaty hand over Hana’s mouth and the other picked her up bodily. “Sit still!” the first man shouted into her face and when she wriggled again, he slapped her so hard she felt her brain rattle in her skull. The passenger door closed in her face while she was still mentally scrambling and yanking the handle met the child locks “Put your seat belt on!” the second man snapped and Hana shook her head like a stubborn child.

  The alarm on the dashboard persisted as the Mercedes made the climb up to the main road and Hana screamed as she saw Tama lying on his back with strangers attacking him. “Stop! Stop!” she screeched and hammered on the window with the flat of her hand.

  “Shut her up or I’ll shoot her!” the driver hissed and someone reached over from Hana’s left.

  “Calm down, gorgeous,” Laval’s voice soothed, dripping with pleasantry. He leaned across Hana’s body, his face close to hers as he gripped the seat belt, drawing it sensuously across her stomach and clicking it shut next to her hip. Hana froze at his touch and he smiled, brown eyes glittering with danger. “That’s better,” he whispered. “Play nice.”

  He leaned forward and tapped the driver on the shoulder. “Shout at me again and I’ll kill you.” His words were informative and said without malice but Hana felt the tension in the car hike.

  “Sorry,” the man stammered.

  Michael Laval pushed a stray lock of hair away from Hana’s terrified face, tucking it behind her ear. It was such a tender movement it made her confused and tearful. “Who are you?” she breathed, her voice laden with emotion. “Who are you really?”

  “We’re not going too far away.” He patted her hand in an action of kindness. “It’ll all be over soon.”

  “What will?” Hana begged, her words catching in her throat. “What will be over soon?”

  Laval smiled and ignored her question, tapping a beat on his trouser leg with relaxed fingers.

  They drove Hana kilometres away, using back roads until she no longer recognised the landscape. Her breasts felt tight and painful and she missed her baby, who she guessed must be complaining telepathically. Hana’s numb brain persuaded her it was a big misunderstanding and she tried again to speak to the handsome man next to her. “I did go to see Odering,” she whispered. “You saw me in the cafe afterwards. But he made fun of me and I got upset and left. I’ll try again tomorrow. Let me go and I’ll go and see him again.”

  Laval put his index finger over her lips and pressed hard. Hana winced. “Shush, darling Hana. It too late for that now.”

  The phone in her bra dug mercilessly into her flesh, causing soreness as her breasts swelled with milk. Hana put up with it, knowing it was her only hope of summoning help.

  “Do you have anything with you I should be worried about?” Laval asked, as though reading her mind.

  “Like what?” Hana replied, desperation in her eyes. She opened her empty hands and showed them to him. Her tracksuit bottoms were tight fitting and without pockets and her tee shirt clung to her damp torso. Laval ran his hand across her thighs too thoroughly and believed her, his lips creasing upwards as he enjoyed touching her.

  “I’ll search the rest of you at my leisure,” he informed her, his eyes glinting. “Without an audience.”

  Hana worked to hide the involuntary shudder which coursed through her body.

  The luxurious car was a smooth ride, gliding over the road surface devoid of engine noise. It left an emptiness in which Hana fretted and worried about herself and Phoenix. When she realised her worrying achieved nothing, she started praying. She remembered studying the book of Daniel, the exile, in church and searched for the point of the teaching, finding it dusty underneath the other stuff in her memory. ‘Despite present appearances; God is in control.’ Hana held onto the words, knowing they were true. Bad things happened to good people, not that she rated herself a good person. He would be with her, no matter what she faced and it was her only certainty in a car with Michael Laval’s son sitting next to her.

  The vehicle pulled onto a tree lined driveway and approached a vast house. “Home at last,” Laval said pleasantly and smiled at Hana, seeking her admiration. A mock Tudor mansion sat in the sunshine, black and white beams adorning the front. The land was fl
at and lush and despite the hot, relentless summer, it was a vivid shade of green.

  “Where are we?” Hana asked.

  “South of Cambridge,” Laval answered, offering his hand to help her out. “Nice and secluded with nobody to hear you scream.”

  Hana knew she was going to die. It was how they would do it and whether it would be painful which seemed to matter most.

  The men helped Laval force Hana from the car when she refused his assistance. She banged her elbow on the edge of the door in the struggle, feeling an aching numbness spread down her arm before all hope left her. Entering the house made death seem imminent. ‘Never change location, Mum,’ Bodie’s well-intentioned words came back to her as a reprimand.

  Inside, they shoved her from the large lobby into a lounge. It was massive but poorly decorated. The carpets were old-people-style, a mess of vivid patterns on a mottled background from the 1960s. Brown corduroy sofas and armchairs were dotted around the room like an old people’s home.

  “Shout when you need us,” the driver said to Laval, leaving as his boss ignored him. The two employees left together, closing the door behind them.

  “You just can’t seem to get good staff anymore,” Laval muttered. “They have a sense of entitlement nowadays. I earned everything I have and yet they think they can share it. Sit down, Hana,” he said, pointing to a sofa. “Make yourself at home.” He walked towards an ornate drinks cabinet and brought out a stylish crystal decanter. “Drink?” he waved the shimmering crystal towards her shaking body. Hana jerked her head no and then changed her mind. She didn’t have to drink it, but the glass might make a good weapon. ‘There’s always something you can use,’ Bodie’s voice reminded her.

  Laval handed her whisky. It was a huge tot and she sipped it, feeling it burn down her throat and enter her stomach. It took the edge off her fear and allowed her to think clearer. ‘Never accept food or drink from someone you don’t know...’ Oops.