by Caz May
In panic I search the aisles of the small supermarket but she isn't here.
Trying to calm my breathing I rush back up to the checkout line and press my palms into the conveyor belt.
Taking deep breathes in and out I start to ask the checkout chick, "Was there a.."
"Sorry sir? I can't understand you. You need to calm down."
Focus Hunter, breathe, in, out.
"Was there a dark haired woman in here before?" I ask as calmly as I can.
The checkout chick thinks hard.
“Seriously how many customers would there have been in the last fifteen minutes?” I scream at her.
She hesitates, scratching her nose. “Um yeah there was. She didn't buy anything though."
“Is that all? She's not fucking here,” I seethe at the poor girl, even though it’s not her fault.
“Um yeah, I think. I’m sorry.”
"So she left? Without buying anything?"
“Yes, sir that's right."
"And?" I ask, not even sure why I said it but sure she isn't tell me something.
"And she left holding hands with a guy. He had dark hair and green eyes I think. Kinda hot looking. She seemed happy walking out with him."
I know my mouth gapes open at her words. What she’s telling me doesn't make any sense, but at the same time makes complete sense.
Maybe Savannah had been right and her husband was here.
But why would she willingly leave with him and be happy about doing so?
Hastily I race back to the Ute. The police station is next to the hospital and only a ten minute walk but still I jump in the Ute and reverse out of the Main Street like a bull out of the gates.
I gun the engine fast, pulling up at the police station in record time.
Inside I slam my hands on the desk.
"Gail, I need to speak to Quentin urgently,” I demand.
"Regarding what Hunter? Is it a police matter?" she questions me in a patronising tone.
“Yes, Gail it's a fucking police matter."
Stupid old biddy, she should retire.
"Don't you use that language in here Hunter Mackenney."
I’m angry with her. She’s wasting my time. I just want to speak to my brother.
"Just buzz him please Gail,”I beg.
"Ok," she says rudely, before pressing a finger to the intercom mic, "Quentin Mackenney to the desk. Your brother is here."
I start pacing the room, waiting for Quentin to come out.
He takes one look at me when he comes from the office halls and he knows something is wrong.
To stop me from pacing he places his hand on my shoulders, looking me straight in the eyes.
He’s direct and professional when he speaks to me.
"Hunter you need to calm down and tell me what's happened."
I run a hand through my hair sighing.
"I don't know Quent. I'd just gone to the farm supplies and.."
Oh how am I going to say this? I feel so god damn guilty.
He directs me to sit down on the hard chairs in the foyer, sitting next to me and rubbing my back.
This isn't exactly a professional thing to do; it’s a brotherly thing to do.
He gives Gail a scowl for looking at us like Quentin isn't doing his job, because he is. He looks me in the eyes and asks, "So you went to the farm supplies and what Hunter?"
“Savannah..." I stop speaking again.
This is so damn hard. I don't want the words to be true. She could be hurt or worse be dead, because of me.
"What about Savannah?"
You can do this Hunter. Tell him what happened.
"She went to the supermarket and when I went back to go home she wasn't there."
"So maybe she went for a walk or something?” he says trying to calm me.
"No, Quentin she left the supermarket with a man. I asked the checkout girl."
Shock crosses my brothers face and I know that it's bad news. He’s about to ask me more when we first hear the siren. The fire truck siren blaring as it tears through the town. It’s a sound that always makes everyone tense.
Quentin stands up, and grabs his police radio from his belt, pressing it to listen for an announcement and what we hear shocks me to my core, stabbing me straight in the heart.
'Bushfire Back Ridge Road. Fifty kilometres out. Suspected arson. Car involved.'
I can't hold back the fear that Savannah is involved. Tears are stinging at my eyes.
It’s my fault. She’s going to die out there because of me. I left her alone for a god damn minute and she's going to die. She can't die without hearing me tell her I love her.
"Hunter I've gotta go out there. Might be a homicide."
I stand up next to him, a little wobbly on my feet.
"I'm coming with you Quentin. What if it's Savannah's car?"
He pushes me back down on the seat, his hands on my shoulders again.
"We both know that's not possible Hunter. And you can't come with me."
He’s right. I can't get involved in an emergency situation. Even if the woman I’m in love with is involved.
"Stay here, calm down and I'll let you know the minute I find out anything."
“Ok," is all I manage to say, standing up and pulling him into a hug.
Patting his back I say, ”Thanks little bro."
He walks out the door, calling back to me, "No worries Big bro. Just doing my job."
~ ~
There’s no point in sitting around waiting for Quentin to call. It’s only going to torture myself more. The guilt is plaguing me and it’s overwhelming.
Jumping back in the car I head back into the main part of town.
I shouldn't really be driving in the state I’m in but I need to get back to town fast to drown in alcoholic stupor.
If I’ve lost Savannah because of one idiotic choice I'll never forgive myself.
The anguish that something has happened to her is hard enough to deal with. The thought of her actually being gone is unfathomable.
I've not even told her I love her or made love to her and my world is shattering with the thought of her not being a part of my life.
I find myself inside the pub. Fortunately 'happy hour' hasn't descended yet so it’s relatively quiet.
I park myself on a stool and wave at the bartender.
“Mick, whiskey straight up."
He pours it out in a glass, sliding it across at me down the bar.
"You don't look so good Hunter."
"Not feeling so good, Mick."
"Drink up mate. It’s on the house."
"Thanks, but I shouldn't."
The look he shoots me then is both concern and wonder. Sculling the whisky in one gulp I slide the glass back down the bar and signal him for another.
Like any good bartender he serves me another whisky. I know getting drunk is a bad idea. It isn't going to take the pain away and it certainly isn't going to take the damn guilt away. Propping my elbows up on the bar, I sigh, my head in my hands.
"You sure you're alright Hunter?" Mike asks.
I nod. “Yeah all good. Just a rough day."
The door creaks open with a person entering. His next words literally tear my heart out for a moment, before it constricts in disgust.
Mike happily says, "Your girl just came in. I'm sure she'll lift ya spirits."
It isn't possible that Savannah is here. It can’t be her. She’s gone isn't she?
Slowly I turn my head to door and I’m right. Savannah isn't here at all. The person who's entered the pub is Addison. Yes, once my girl and the girl most of the town had thought I'd end up with, but my girl now is Savannah and she’s gone.
In disgust I sigh again, as Addison saunters up to the bar. A look of misery crosses her face, mirroring my own face when she looks at me.
Yeah, I know I'm a fucking wreck right now.
"Hunter, what are you doing here?"
"Drinking away my guilt."
She si
ts down on the stool next to me pulling it a little to close for comfort.
Her legs in her too short and too tight mini skirt are pressing against my thigh. Much to her disappointment having her that close does nothing to my libido.
"Guilt? What did you do Hunter Mackenney?" she says with a flirty tone.
"I lost her."
She has the gall to laugh, throwing her head back to spray her hair around like in those stupid shampoo commercials. It isn't going to work.
She’s trying to flirt with me when I’m utterly heartbroken.
"Lost who?" she asks as if she honestly has no idea who I’m talking about.
“Savannah. Who else would I be fucking talking about?"
"Oh, maybe it's for the best Hunter,” she coos, placing a hand a little to high on my thigh.
I smack it away, shoving my hands into the bar and throwing the stool from under me away in anger.
"Seriously, Addison, seriously."
"What Hunter? Why are you so angry?"
"Because I fucking love her, thats why and she's gone."
She stands up from the stool, grabbing me by the shoulders to try and calm me and lighten the moment.
"What are you saying? Gone?"
I look up at her, her eyes are focused on me and not lust filled like usual.
"Hunter what are you saying?"
"Didn't you hear the sirens before?"
"Yes, but whats that got to do with Savannah?"
"It was for arson with a car involved."
I collapse, falling to my knees on the floor.
This is not happening.
Saying the words out loud makes it real. Addison bends down in front me, balancing on her heels.
"Hunter please, I can't stand seeing you like this."
Her arm wraps around my shoulder and it’s nice to see this caring side of her.
Helping me up, she ushers me over to the booths in the corner and slides in across from me.
"Tell me everything. I'm asking as a friend Hunter."
She touches my hands softly and I blurt out everything, just like I had with Quentin.
When I finally shut my mouth, her words are caring. “I'm sure she'll be fine Hunter. She's a strong woman and i'm sure you'll get to tell her you love her."
I smile at her. “I hope so."
"You will," she says standing up. “Look Hunter, I have to go meet Zane but please take care of yourself."
"I will,” I promise her, even though I’m not really feeling the sincerity those words imply.
And walking away she stops and looks straight at me, her hair flipping across her shoulders. “And Hunter I'm sorry."
"For what?" I ask.
She doesn't have to apologise. I know what she’s saying it for and it makes sense to me. What happened in the past between us was as much my fault as it was hers.I just want to put it in the past now and move on.
"You know what for."
And with that statement she walks to the other side of the bar, sliding into a booth with the new doctor in town. At least it appears like someone is going to get their happy ending.
(33) Savannah
I have never been more terrified in my entire life, locked inside the boot with the smell of petrol and smoke drifting in.
I feel absolutely wretched knowing I've taken my last breaths and that I’m going to die out here in the middle of nowhere.
Time had seemed to stop after I'd heard Dante's voice telling me to go to hell.
Those words were knives stabbing me repeatedly all over my body, everywhere he'd inflicted pain on me.
The pain now in my body is engulfing me, threatening to pull me under, for each breath to be my last.
But I don't want that.
Even though Dante is still out there I want to live.
I don't want Dante to be the last person I remember, the torture he inflicted on me to be my last memory.
I don't want to die out here remembering the feel of his torturous kisses or worse the way he'd...
I can't even bring myself to remember it, even though my body is throbbing in pain because of his depravity.
I try to focus on remembering my last kiss with Hunter, the giddy feeling it gave me, the rush and warmth being with him gave me.
I try to think about what seeing him again would be like, and how he would react when I tell him I love him.
I have to tell him my past and I have to tell him what Dante had done.
Still, after all this I want to be with Hunter, and give him all of me.
Yes, I'd need time to heal, but I still want it more than anything.
I cannot let my eyes close, I cannot give into the pain.
The pain that is so overpowering.
I could just close my eyes and it would be all over.
But in the distance I hear sirens, getting closer and closer.
I have to hold on.
(34) Quentin
Arriving at the scene of the fire my heart is pounding in my chest.
This shouldn't have happened as there’s absolutely no doubt in my mind about who started this fire.
I should have gone after him the night of the fundraiser, I know that now without a doubt and I’m cursing myself for not doing that.
If my unwise, moronic decision has caused Savannah to die, there would be no way I'd ever forgive myself. Hunter would fucking kill me. Thankfully though, the fire hasn't reached the car, like the emergency call out suggested.
Pulling up next to it, by the fire truck, I slide out of the car. The smell of smoke and petrol fills the air, thick and assaulting to breathe in.
The flames are licking the bush, only a mere five hundred metres from the car. The only thing stopping the petrol from igniting further is the density of the undergrowth and fallen leaf debris.
It had been an incredibly dry summer and this was fire fuel.
Seeing my arrival the chief firefighter, my mate Hugh rushes over to me.
"Hey Quentin,” he says with a hint of relief in his tone.
"Hey Hugh, whats the details?"
"Definitely arson. Appears to have been started about two kilometres down the road."
"Surprising it hasn't reached the car yet then."
He runs a hand through his hair, sighing. “You have no idea Quentin. We rushed out here almost immediately when we got the call from a truckie passing through."
This whole thing is sounding more and more suspicious.
"Truckie?" I ask, not really sure how to phrase what I want to ask.
"Yeah, he said he could smell the smoke and could see the fire, so called it in."
I put an arm on his. “Hugh, is there anything else? Do you know anything about the car?"
"Nah, mate, I don't know how the car is involved but he did say something else to dispatch."
"Yeah, possibly about the arsonist?"
"Yeah, he picked up a guy with a petrol can a few kilometres after he saw the fire."
"Did he give a description?"
"I don't know Quentin. Dispatch didn't fill me in on all the details. Just said to head out."
"Thanks, mate."
I don't need a description to know who the arsonist is. And I feel so incredibly guilty. I've failed at my job.
I've let my brother down and possibly caused the woman he’s in love with to be gone from his life.
He doesn't need that. He's always taken guilt so hard.
Needing to check out the car, I grab some supplies from the patrol car for fingerprinting and collection of any other evidence.
Slowly I begin dusting the door handles for prints which come up instantly. I’m going to make this right. With a tissue in hand I try to open the door, but it’s locked.
Peering inside I can see what appears to be bodily fluids on the backseat, blood and semen. I cringe, my heart constricting in my chest. I know what that means.
When I’m about to call out to Hugh to open the doors for me is when I first hear the banging and muffled
almost screams.
It’s coming from the boot and I put my ear over the boot to hear it better. It’s a woman and I know it has to be Savannah.
I call out to Hugh, “Hugh, man, come over here. I think there's someone in the boot."
He’s at the car straight away, listening intently.
"Fuck mate. I think you're right. I'll grab the lock kit and a crowbar."
Panic is rising in me.
If it’s Savannah in the boot, how long has she been in there? What had he done to her?
In what feels like mere seconds Hugh is back with the equipment, getting to work skilfully and in a damn hurry. He picks at the lock, but it won't budge.
So instead, he edges the crowbar under the lip of the boot and yanks hard. The metal bends back and he wraps the crowbar around the lock to pull it out. It doesn't work and he sighs in frustration.
"Man, I'm gonna need the jaws for this."
The next five minutes are an absolute blur. Hugh had returned with the jaws of life, prying the boot open and cutting the lock. I could hear her whimpering in fear. I wanted to comfort her but I didn't know what words she needed to hear. The minute the lock was cut, the boot springs up and my eyes can’t focus on what I see. The image of Savannah in that car boot will stay with me forever.
There’s no way in hell I’m going to tell Hunter how she looked when I found her. It would damn near break his heart.
After helping her sit up on the edge of the boot, I untie the knots from her hands and feet.
They had been so tight, they'd left marks on her skin and her legs are bleeding.
"Savannah, it’s going to be ok,” I soothe.
She doesn't say anything, but stumbles forward pulling me into a hug.
I wrap my arms around her too. I know it isn't professional, but fuck it.
My brother loves this woman and that means professional or not I need to be here for her.
When she pulls away from the hug a couple of minutes later, she softly mutters, "Thank you. I was so scared.”