Crossings

by Ashley Capes

  “You’re sick,” she cried.

  Ben grunted. “You tell anyone about this and I’ll make sure a lot more of your friends get shot, understand? This’ll look like a friggen picnic.”

  “This is how you want to win me back?”

  “Bitch.” He shoved her aside and crunched back to the van, snarling at his friends to follow. Wheels spun on gravel as they backed onto the road, tearing off into the night. The sound of bottles shattering followed and the heavy smell of exhaust filled the roadside.

  Lisa dragged herself across to Robert, who lay on his back, breathing hard. “I’m fine,” he said. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” she gasped out. Her lip stung in the night air, as did a graze on her head. She winced when she touched it and her fingertips came back wet. What the fuck was happening? Ben wasn’t just drunk – he was insane. Worse than before; now he was involving others.

  “What was that about?” Robert asked, dragging himself into a sitting position.

  “I provoked him.” She clasped her hands together to stop them shaking. “And he’s drunk. I don’t know.”

  “He’s a sick bastard, that’s what he is.”

  “I know.” And he’d do just what he claimed too. If she went to Gerry, he’d be killing animals everywhere – it was obvious now, he was the one dumping the animals at her place. Just to get at her, just to keep her quiet. Prick. It was exactly like before. The threats. Holding violence over her. All of it. Years ago there was always the unspoken threat – that of expectation. She knew what he’d do if she angered him, he’d shown her enough times. Like the backhand into the bedroom wall when she threatened to tell someone what he’d done.

  Lisa climbed to her feet, wiping at the side of her mouth. More blood. She’d have a fat lip tomorrow. “Here.” She helped Robert up, who groaned. His eye was already swelling.

  “Let me drive,” he said at the car. “You might have a concussion.”

  She nodded as she climbed in. Robert fumbled with the keys a moment and she caught his arm. “Wait. The bodies. I don’t want to leave them.”

  He sighed but opened the door.

  Once they’d secured the bodies Robert left her to sprinkle what little salt she had thin across them. She stayed back a moment, trying to slow her breathing. God, they’d even killed a snake. What the hell could she do? Ben wasn’t going to back down. She couldn’t stop him even if she went to the police.

  “I’m sorry,” she said to the bodies, then returned to the ute.

  Robert started back toward town, soon muttering to himself.

  “What is it?”

  “Bet the bastard has a licence. You know, for shooting. For culling, like other farmer families.”

  “You think I should tell Gerry.”

  “Shit yes. You can’t let that bastard and his stupid friends get away with this. If you don’t report it, I will. Someone has to stop him before he does it again. Who knows, maybe he even killed Clint and Pumps.”

  “What?” She spun her head to him, pain flaring in her neck. “Why would he do that?”

  “Who knows? He’s insane.” Robert threw up a hand. “He doesn’t need a reason.”

  “Clint wasn’t shot and Pumps had a heart attack,” she said, trying to massage her neck.

  “So? Let’s just go to the police.”

  “I can’t. He’ll start shooting kangaroos and who knows what else if we do that. I know he will.”

  Robert shook his head.

  “Please, Robert. At least until I think of something else.”

  “Like what? You’re playing his game if you don’t. Letting him control you again.”

  She lowered her voice. “You weren’t there, Robert.”

  “I’ve heard enough.”

  “Pull over,” she snapped.

  He slowed the ute and pulled onto the shoulder where he wrenched the handbrake on. Headlights hit the pale trunks of gum trees. He looked to the darkness as he spoke. “What’s your suggestion then?”

  Something bubbly played on the radio. She flicked it off. What kind of idiot DJ played something that happy at ten pm? “I haven’t got one. I just don’t want him to kill any more roos.”

  He turned back. “Me either – so let’s get him locked up.”

  “He’ll make bail. Or he’ll ask Steve or Fathead to do it.”

  Robert thumped the dash. “Well, I don’t want him to get away with this. Any of them.”

  “I know.”

  He sighed. In the reflected light from the dash she could just make out his jaw working. “I don’t know if I can let this go.”

  Lisa gave a slow nod; Robert was right. She would be letting Ben win if she gave in. Worse, she’d be falling back into the same old pattern of doing what she was told. Or being too afraid to do what was right. And that wasn’t an option anymore. And truly, what could she do by herself? Against three of them. And one of them Ben. Ben with a gun.

  They needed help.

  “Let’s go find Gerry then.”

  Chapter 12.

  At first, Gerry stood silhouetted in the doorway dressed only in shorts and singlet, regarding them with a confused expression – but his mouth dropped open when he saw them properly. He pulled them inside. “What happened to you two?” His expression darkened. “Ben?”

  “Who else?” Lisa said.

  He led her to a kitchen table cluttered with newspapers, pulling a chair for her then Robert and waving for them to sit. He gathered up a manila folder of files and photographs, closing and placing it on the bench. “I’ll make you some coffee.”

  She nodded, Robert joining her.

  “What did he do?” He flicked the kettle. Mugs clinked as he pulled them from a wooden cupboard.

  Lisa explained the trick phone call and the beating, including Steve and Fathead. “They’d shot all these animals and Ben told us he’d kill more if we went to the police and made it official. That’s why I wanted to see you here.”

  Gerry raised an eyebrow. “So this isn’t an official report?”

  “It should be,” Robert said, but he didn’t push the issue.

  “I don’t know what to do,” Lisa said. “He’s worse than I’ve ever seen him.”

  “Worse than when he smashed up the pub the day I booted him out of town?” Gerry asked. He finished with the drinks and spread them across the table. They looked small in his big hands. One had a little grey Totoro figure on the side. “My niece’s,” he said when he noticed her gaze.

  She nodded. “Yeah, worse than the pub.”

  “Well, you can get him and the others on assault, and a few more things. Ben would probably do jail time. With his history, it’d be easy.”

  “And in the meantime he’ll be out while he waits for a court date and have months to run around killing things,” she said.

  “Or worse – he comes after you,” Robert added.

  Gerry put his mug down. “If you think he’d attack you again I need to know.”

  “No, he’s not there yet.”

  Robert shook his head and Gerry raised an eyebrow. “Looks like he’s hit you already. Both of you.”

  “I know him.” Lisa said. “And you said it yourself, he’s trying to control me not kill me. He’ll probably try and blackmail me further, with the animals.”

  “This is pretty sick even for him,” Gerry said. “He can’t be stupid enough to think he can re-start your relationship like this.”

  “He’s not thinking,” Lisa said.

  “So what are you going to do about it?” Robert asked. He was calmer now, but he sat straight on the chair.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Document everything,” Gerry suggested. “You don’t have to press charges tomorrow but the sooner the better. Take it seriously. You know I’ll help you.”

  �
�Hmmm.” Lisa frowned, hands wrapped around the warm mug. “I need something quicker than charges.”

  “Break his legs,” Robert muttered.

  Gerry took another sip. “I didn’t hear that.”

  Lisa stood. “Let me sleep on it.” She raised fingertips to her cheek and bottom lip, wincing.

  Gerry held up a hand. “Wait, let me take some photos. I want to document this.” Using his phone, he snapped a few shots of their injuries then walked them to the door.

  “I’ll drop you off then,” Robert told Lisa. “Thanks for the drink, Gerry.”

  “No problems.” Gerry said. “You should make it official, Lisa. I can’t force you, but think about it.”

  “I will.”

  “Good. And I thought you’d like to know about Pumps Johnson,” he added. “Pretty sure it was a heart attack, just waiting on confirmation. No idea why. Maybe it was just his time.”

  “But why call me?”

  “Part of the white roo hoax?”

  “He sounded afraid – and there was the gun. I dunno if he was acting.”

  “Well, the rifle’s a dead end. No forensic evidence to say anyone else had touched it so it’s part of his estate now.”

  “I didn’t know he had much family left.”

  “There’s a cousin interstate somewhere.” He shook his head. “First Clint and Pumps and now you two. It’s been a shitty week.”

  “It has.”

  “I’ll see if I can find Ben – and don’t argue with me, all right?” He took her by the shoulders, his grip firm, comforting. “You should stay with Steph and Dave tonight.” After a moment, he let his hands drop and he cleared his throat. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be bossy. But make sure you get some rest, whatever you decide.”

  “I will.”

  By the time Robert dropped her off, she had to drag her aching body into the house. She pulled open the hall table drawer and found a packet of cigarettes – nearly empty, but just one would take the edge off – she chewed at the inside of her cheek. Stuff it. Too tired to actually smoke it. In the pantry she fumbled through the medicine box and found the Panadol, which she popped from the case and downed with a glass of water.

  Then, hammer in hand, she checked every room, every door and window. No sign of Ben, thank God. She heaved a sigh, relief flooding her limbs. Hopefully Gerry would have him by now. But she called Steph anyway, and let her friend bring her axe to the house then fuss over her face.

  “If he touches you again I’ll kill him myself,” she said when she finished, dumping the face-washer into the basin. It was tinted pink with her blood.

  “Get in line.” Lisa managed a small smile.

  “I’m dead serious; he’s not fooling me again.”

  Lisa took Steph’s hand. “Hey, don’t do that. He fooled me too and it’s not your fault I hid it. I couldn’t have got back on my feet without you.”

  Steph’s jaw was clenched. “I should have seen the signs. They were there, even in high school.”

  “Pretty easy to see that now, though. Looking back.”

  “Maybe. Remember we were in assembly that time, waiting for that guest speaker? The guy from that law firm who stuttered?”

  “Dave nearly wet himself.”

  “Right. But I mean Ben, do you remember what he said?”

  “Not really.”

  “The lawyer was talking about equality in the workplace. Ben said something stupid about a woman’s place being to serve her man.”

  She nodded slowly. He had said that. And Dave snickered. And she’d dug her fingers into Ben’s thigh. But then, he’d been a kid. It wasn’t a sign that he’d become abusive later. “That’s a stretch, Steph. Just because he was a typical seventeen-year-old doesn’t mean he’d be a pig as an adult.”

  “Sometimes it does. And he meant it; he delivered it like a joke, but I saw the look he gave you.” She squeezed her hand. “When I found you on the kitchen floor in that first place you two had together I thought...”

  “I’m sorry, Steph. I should have told you when it started.”

  “It doesn’t matter. You’re safe for now – I just don’t want to see you like that again.”

  “I know.”

  “Get some sleep, all right?”

  “I will.” She hugged her friend. “Thanks for coming over again. I know you and Dave probably had plans.”

  She snorted. “Watching a DVD is hardly plans. Dave’s fine, don’t worry.”

  “Okay.”

  Once Lisa set up Steph in the spare room she paused in the doorway to her bedroom then hauled herself into bed with a sigh.

  *

  When she woke, the bedroom was bright, stripes of sunlight crossing her dresser, catching on an unused bottle of perfume. It was late then. She dragged herself out of bed and got ready for work. Just one afternoon cleaning job today – a light day, thankfully. Her face was bruised, darkness spreading – and her lip swollen. Classy. Make-up was an option...but who cared? People would ask but she could always lie. Or not; still no idea what to do there.

  Steph appeared in the doorway. “I’m running a bit late, so I have to go. How are you feeling?”

  “Better I guess.” She hugged Steph. “Thanks for staying.”

  “Anytime. Look after yourself. And let me know when Gerry has that bastard.”

  “Definitely.”

  Once Steph was gone, Lisa packed the Holden and headed for Lidelson Real Estate. She barely got halfway through the first toilet stall before her phone rang. She tugged her rubber gloves off and tossed them onto a basin.

  It was Gerry. “Lisa, can you meet me somewhere?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “We’re on Pyke Road and there’s been a bad accident. It’s...a bit disturbing too, I should warn you.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s James Rogers – can you meet us?”

  She made to answer but no words would come. Finally, she managed, “Ben’s friend Fathead?”

  “Yeah. How soon can you be here?”

  “I’ll leave now. Did you find Ben last night?”

  “No, but I will.”

  Where was the prick? Probably hiding out somewhere.

  Or hunting.

  Back into the Holden and onto the road again. She rolled the window down, letting the breeze cool her as she tapped a thumb on the wheel in a pattern to rival any thrash band. A bad accident? What had happened to the idiot?

  When she pulled into Pyke Road, Gerry’s cruiser sat beside an ambulance, which in turn surrounded the purple van, which had hit a tree. No police tape and no urgency to the scene; the ambos were just standing beside their vehicle, talking to one another while Gerry and a man in a suit pointed and gestured.

  “Jesus.” She strode toward the van and Gerry met her before she reached the driver’s door.

  “Thanks for coming.” A camera with a big lens hung from his neck and sweat beaded at his temples. “I tried Anthony but he must have been in surgery.”

  “Anthony?”

  “I thought he might be able to help explain this,” he said. “It’s worse than Clint, okay?”

  How bad was it? “Okay.”

  The other man approached. Unlike Gerry, there was no trace of sweat on the man’s face – as if for him, it wasn’t high summer but a pleasant spring day. He held a pad and pen and gave her a brief smile, his moustache arching around his mouth in a Chopper handlebar. The smile faded when he saw the bruise but he didn’t mention it. Instead, he said, “I’m Detective McConnell. Thanks for assisting us. I believe you knew the deceased?”

  So Fathead didn’t make it. Shit. “I did.”

  “Well, take a look and tell us what you think, if you don’t mind.”

  She moved around to the driver’s side and flinched – Fathead’s face was blue and his e
yes bulged, but worst of all was the snake wrapped around his neck.

  “He’s been choked?”

  McConnell nodded. “We think the impact came first. He was likely drunk when he hit. It wasn’t enough to kill him but the snake seems to have wanted to make sure Mr Rogers died. It bit him and strangled him – before apparently dying itself.”

  “I...no snake would do that.”

  The detective gestured to the van. “Care to look again? To be sure.”

  She turned back and moved a little closer. The van’s front end wasn’t too badly dented. Fathead was another story.

  “It’s a red-bellied black snake, right?” Gerry said.

  Lisa frowned. He was right. “Yeah.” It had coiled itself around his neck twice and now the snake’s head dangled over its victim’s chest, jaw slightly agape. Two red puncture marks were visible on the back of Fathead’s hand. She shook her head. It bit him too? No snake would slip into a car crash to bite and strangle a human.

  It simply didn’t work like that.

  She peered closer. Was the red-belly’s head twisted at an odd angle? Like its neck had been snapped?

  “Maybe he tried to wring its neck, which is why he was bitten,” Gerry said.

  “Red-bellies’ poison isn’t often fatal,” she said. “But if it choked him, how did he break its neck? And if he broke its neck first, it couldn’t have choked him.”

  “We’re just as confused as you,” McConnell said. “But it’s useful to have you confirm the likelihood of this being spontaneous.”

  “So you think it was...what? Staged?”

  He gave her an appraising look. “I’m not sure what to think right now. Why do you say that?”

  She glanced at Gerry, who said nothing.

  McConnell looked to Gerry. “Do I need to know something, Sergeant?”

  “There was probably someone else here last night,” Lisa said. Things had changed. Leaving the scene of an accident with a fatality, assault, breaking and entering, maybe that was enough to deny Ben bail. “Two more men were in the van.”