‘Her bank card is missing,’ said Rupe. ‘Can you notify me if anyone tries to withdraw money with it?’
‘They haven’t yet but I can put a freeze on it,’ said Martin. ‘They’d need her pin. It’s an older card and doesn’t have the payWave chip, fortunately.’
‘Okay, that’s good. Freeze it but I want to know of any activity.’
‘Of course.’
Back at the station house, Rupe sat down to the pile of paperwork resulting from the morning’s extraordinary events. An attack like this was unprecedented in the area.
The phone interrupted him with Detective Sergeant Jill McGrath saying a team from Wagga was on its way to Rita’s house and he should meet them there in thirty minutes. The investigation had moved out of his hands.
***
Abbie’s chair leg jammed on broken pieces of frame from her smashed paintings.
‘I can’t move the damned thing,’ she said in between grunts of effort.
Georgia didn’t answer.
‘Georgie? Are you still with me?’
A groan and a muttered something that sounded like ‘yeah’. Better than nothing, but worrying. She checked the smoke level coming through from the hallway. It didn’t seem any worse but the smell was quite strong, definitely wood, like a bonfire. Maybe it wasn’t burning very well. Abbie certainly had trouble getting her first few fires burning properly in the fireplace. Kaelee hadn’t spent much time in there before they left and Aaron would have noticed if she’d prepared something earlier. Whatever it was might die out.
Or not.
She had to break her chair apart and risk hurting herself when it collapsed. She began wriggling and wrenching her arms from side to side, hoping to dislodge the back of the chair from the seat. If she managed it she’d be able to stand up. After that, who knew … The struts were loose, she felt them wobbling each time she tried but they stubbornly refused to give way. She jammed her feet as hard as possible against the floor and lifted her torso up, at the same time pulling hard with her arms and shoulders. Something definitely gave way.
Panting, she paused for a few minutes rest. Jet had stopped barking, which must mean the smoke wasn’t worrying her.
That was a good sign but it also meant Rita wouldn’t come over to see what was happening and to complain about it. Basically, she was on her own.
The last manoeuvre had strained a muscle in her shoulder, so when she tried the same thing again the stab of pain made her cry out and stop. She moved her neck carefully from side to side in an attempt to ease the cramping in her upper arms. It didn’t help much.
Smoke began wafting into the kitchen again, not lazily dancing wisps this time but with a sense of purpose, thicker, more demanding of attention.
‘Georgia?’ Abbie said. ‘Can you try to move? We have to get out of here.’
No reply, not even a grunt.
‘Georgia,’ she shouted.
With a tremendous, frantic burst of effort, ignoring the agony in her arms and shoulders, Abbie wrenched at the chair back. One support broke free, twisted and stuck at an odd angle against the seat, pulling her into an even more painful position. Tears, a combination of fear, pain and anger, dripped down her cheeks. The smoke was thicker now, billowing through the doorway in dark, grey waves. No flames were visible but that wasn’t much comfort. People usually choked on the smoke and fumes in a house fire before the flames got anywhere near them.
Vague snippets of fire safety information flashed into her mind. The Rural Fire Service put out flyers with bushfire emergency strategies. ‘What to do in case of a fire.’ They took fires very seriously in rural areas. The information focused on the outside of the house, clearing gutters, keeping trees, long grass and shrubbery away from the house. This was different.
Lie on the floor, the air was fresher low down, cover your nose and face with a damp towel. Wear nonflammable clothing like wool.
She’d have to fall over. The chair was already giving way so it might smash with the impact, or she might hurt herself too badly to move. The smoke hadn’t reached the studio end of the room yet. Abbie resumed her wriggling and yanking. Nothing happened for a moment or two, then the attached strut broke free and with a last triumphant wrench she detached it from the seat.
She tried to stand. It was hard with her ankles tied and her arms stretched back but she rocked backward and forward a few times then heaved herself to her feet. The back of the chair was loose but stuck in place against her body. Luckily Kaelee hadn’t taped her to it, so by jiggling her arms and stretching them back, she managed to let it slide down. Her shoulder shrieked every time she moved but success was much too close for her to fail now.
Then, with a crash, the wooden frame fell to the chair seat and then the floor behind her. Breathing hard and using a cramped jumping shuffle movement, dragging the remnants of the chair with her, Abbie covered the remaining distance to Georgia, positioning her right leg as close as possible to her fingers.
‘Georgie, untie me.’
Georgia groaned.
‘Georgia,’ she said sharply. ‘You have to try. Come on. My ankle is right next to your hands. Feel for the end of the tape.’
Please don’t let us fail now, we’re so close …
Georgia’s fingers twitched slightly. Abbie held her breath. She couldn’t see the end of the tape but it must be there and if Georgia could reach it and pull it up and unwind it …
Georgia’s weak touch fluttered over her ankle.
‘I can’t feel it,’ she said hoarsely. ‘I can’t reach very far.’
‘I’ll turn around. Try the other leg.’
‘Mum, I can’t.’
‘We can try. I’m not suffocating in here and neither are you.’ She’d die trying. No way was that lunatic Kaelee getting away with this twisted attempt at revenge.
Muttering and cursing under breath, Abbie shuffled backward and spent the next ten minutes slowly realigning herself, this time with her left ankle close to Georgia. Now she was facing the kitchen but the bench and sink were barely discernible through the smoke. A dull ache started up in her head. The draught across the room from the back door to the hallway drew the smoke away from the studio but it wouldn’t be long before the whole area was overwhelmed.
‘We don’t have much time,’ she said.
‘You get out,’ came the feeble response and then, ‘It’s my fault.’
‘No!’
Again Georgia fumbled weakly at the tape. ‘Found it,’ she said.
‘Can you unwind it?’
No reply. Abbie peered down at her foot but Georgia’s hands obscured her view. A soft tearing sound coupled with a tug at her jeans made her suck in a breath, which resulted immediately in a burst of coughing. Tears streamed down her face, running salty into her mouth. Her head ached with an insistent pulsing now. The smoke bank was thicker and edging closer. Was she imagining that glow showing faintly through the hall doorway?
Jet was barking again, frantically.
Abbie refocused on her ankle. The bond was looser and she tried pushing against the tape.
‘Wait,’ said Georgia. ‘I’ve nearly …’
Abbie waited, every instinct screaming at her to struggle, to get out, to get away. But not without her daughter. Never without her daughter.
***
Rupe arrived at Rita’s minutes after the team from Wagga. He pulled up behind the police van where two men were pulling on white overalls. Another man and a woman stood beside a blue sedan, staring at the house. The woman, he assumed, was the detective who’d called him, the man would be her assistant.
‘Detective Sergeant McGrath? Senior Constable Rupert Perry,’ he said.
She shook his hand and introduced Detective Constable James Luton.
‘Tell me what you know,’ she said as they walked towards the house.
Rupe filled her in. He unlocked the front door and led her around to the rear of the house while the forensics team went inside.
‘Any
idea who might do this?’ she asked.
‘No-one local. We’ve had trouble with a prowler on the other side of town and over Willoughby way but that was vandalism. The woman next door was frightened by someone last week walking around outside the house in the night. Shots were fired but not at the house. They left a dead possum near the front steps. The possum was roadkill but shot at the house.’
‘Could that be related?’
‘I don’t see how. Rita did complain about people trespassing on her land up the back near the national park boundary but that’s a popular hiking area and I can’t see any connection to this attack.’
‘A robbery gone wrong then.’
‘It’s possible but she didn’t have anything of value in the house and everyone knows that. I mean, she’s not renowned for being a miser with a lot of money stashed under her bed. She kept to herself but went to the bank regularly, and shopped in town. There was thirty dollars in her bag.’
‘Hmm. Have you spoken to the neighbours?’
‘Next door is away for the day but I can call in and see if she’s back yet.’
‘That dog’s making a racket. Is that hers?’
‘Yes, she borrowed it from another neighbour after the fright she got from the possum.’
‘Right. Well, thanks, Senior Constable, we’ll carry on here if you talk to the neighbours.’
Rupe turned in the cramped space and drove slowly down the track to the road. The rain was a misty nothing now but the cloud cover hung low and grey. Couldn’t decide what it was doing. Brought out the scent of the eucalyptus though.
He reached Abbie’s closed and locked gate and hesitated. Not much point going in. He checked the time. Just after eleven. He’d call her when he was in range and let her know what had happened, but he’d drop in on Tim and Connie first. Not that they’d hear anything from up at the vineyard.
Connie invited him in for coffee and a slice of cake but he refused this time. He wasn’t in charge of the investigation and DS McGrath would want a report as soon as possible.
‘Hannah already rang. It’s shocking,’ she said, one hand pressed to her cheek. ‘Will Rita be all right? I’ll visit her. She’ll need some things.’
‘Call the hospital first. You won’t be able to go into her house for a while, because it’s a crime scene. I put some nightgowns and a toothbrush and so on in a bag for her.’
‘My goodness. We didn’t hear a thing. We wouldn’t from up here. It’s very quiet. Oh dear. What about Abbie?’
‘Her daughter is staying for a few days and she told me they were going in to Wagga today so I haven’t spoken to her. It happened quite a while ago so I’m sure if she had heard anything she would have called me or gone over to see if Rita was okay.’
‘That’s right, she would have. I’m sorry we couldn’t help, Rupe. This is dreadful.’
He left her going inside to phone the hospital and undoubtedly after that to relay the latest news from him to the local women’s rally-round to help a local in distress. Dot, Marlene and Hannah would already have that well underway.
Halfway back to Abbie’s he stopped the car and called her. Her phone was off. That was odd. They’d arranged to talk while she was out today. Maybe she was too busy and had forgotten to switch it on. He left a message.
At her gate he stopped. Locked. He’d have to find the tree with the key on it or walk down to the house in the misty damp. The track was muddy, too. Was there any point going in? Jet was barking, though. Quite persistently. Better have a look, even though it could be because she didn’t like being left alone. He climbed over the gate and began checking the trees. He should’ve asked Abbie which side she’d chosen for her hiding place.
He found it a few minutes later, unlocked the gate and returned the key to the nail to save fiddling about on the way out.
It was when he crested the rise he saw the smoke seeping from under the front door.
‘Christ!’
He parked the car a safe distance from the house and radioed in for a fire truck. No wonder the poor dog was going berserk. He ran up the steps to be greeted by a frenzy of licks and wagging tail. He unclipped her chain and she raced off across the yard. Rupe peered in a window near the front door. It was full of smoke but he couldn’t see flames. The front door was locked but he was reluctant to venture inside, he’d leave that to the firies. Not much point risking his life when he knew no-one was in there.
Jet had disappeared down the side path. He followed her to the rear. Rain had begun again, heavier than the mist. The damp air must be slowing the fire a bit, wetting the walls, eaves and roof.
The big windows of the studio had the curtains drawn on the garage side of the house, but as he walked around the corner to the back, smoke was visible, hovering about the door. Jet stood by the door barking. He sprinted the last few metres. The curtains closest to the kitchen were open and he stood in a bed of wet geraniums to look in. A dull glow emanated from the hallway. The smoke was thickest in the kitchen and he could barely see the bench and sink. He turned his gaze to the right, the studio end. He might be able to save some of Abbie’s work. She’d be devastated to lose it all. He’d have to break the window down the end farthest from the fire and try to get in that way or he’d suffocate.
Movement caught his eye through the swirling grey. Was someone inside? He banged on the window and the figure turned, but he couldn’t see who it was. Not Abbie, the hair wasn’t right—no brilliant copper gleaming through the dull grey—but whoever it was screamed his name.
Chapter 15
‘Rupe!’
Abbie yelled again through a throat sore and rasping. It was really him, saving them at the last minute like Superman. He disappeared, then the door opened and he was there; a dark figure, ignoring the choking fumes and the lack of visibility, heading for her. He tripped on debris hidden by the smoke but didn’t fall.
Abbie’s eyes blurred, the smoke was thicker now, closing her throat, burning its way to her lungs. Every fibre in her body screamed, ‘get out, get out’. No! Not without Georgia. Rupe kicked bits of broken chair and paintings away.
‘Abbie, are you hurt?
‘No, Georgia is.’ He looked down at the broken chair as if he’d only just now realised a person was lying at his feet. ‘We’re tied up. Georgia’s hurt.’
He whipped out a pocket knife and sliced through the tape on Abbie’s wrists. She groaned as her arms separated, the rigid muscles reluctantly moving, but ignored the pain and bent to frantically wrench at the tape on her ankle, saying through sobs of relief, ‘Georgia, save Georgia.’
He knelt and hacked through the tape holding Georgia’s legs to the smashed chair, then released her arms. Her head flopped forward but she groaned when he pulled her clear, stumbling on the wreckage.
‘She’s maybe broken something. Help me.’
He dragged Georgia’s helpless body upright, bent his knees and slung an arm under her arms, pushing up with a grunt. Abbie staggered forward and supported her and together they struggled to the door, into the fresh air and away from the house, with Georgia suspended between them, her feet dragging helplessly.
Abbie sucked in deep lungful’s of air. It was raining softly but the damp fresh eucalyptus-laden breaths were the best ever and the cool moistness soothed the scratchy rawness of her throat and eyes and eased the throbbing in her head. She knelt by Georgia, clutching her hand as Rupe did a quick first-aid assessment before rising to his feet.
‘She’s breathing okay. She was on the floor where the air is clearer but you’re lucky you were in the studio and not closer to the fire. I’ve called the fire engine but not the ambulance. Let’s get her into my car, out of this rain.’
Georgia’s eyes were open now, red and watery, but she smiled feebly at Abbie. ‘Is this your guy?’ She coughed and grimaced. ‘On top of this I feel sick.’
Abbie leant and kissed her forehead, barely able to speak. ‘This is Rupe.’ Her hero. Their saviour.
‘Can yo
u make it to the car?’ he asked.
This time Georgia was able to walk, albeit supported on both sides.
Rupe guided her onto the back seat and ordered Abbie in beside her. He took two silver rescue blankets from the first-aid kit in the boot and wrapped one around Georgia, then tucked one in around Abbie with swift, sure fingers. He went back and reappeared with two bottles of water.
‘Thanks. I thought we were finished in there,’ Georgia said hoarsely when, like Abbie, she’d drunk half the bottle.
‘So did I,’ said Abbie. ‘I didn’t think you’d come because you knew we were going to Wagga. I’ve never been so pleased to see anyone in my life.’ She met his gaze and it held, an invisible thread between them, acknowledging something interrupted by circumstance but filled with definite promise. She’d never forget that glimpse of him through the smoke, banging on the window. A hero in the true sense of the word.
He touched her cheek gently. ‘I nearly didn’t come in but Jet was making a racket.’
Abbie asked, ‘Where were you that you heard Jet?’
‘At Rita’s. She was attacked. She’s in hospital. A detective is investigating the assault so I had to talk to the neighbours. I spoke to Connie first but Jet was so upset I figured I should check it out.’
‘Oh thank god for that. That tape is incredibly strong. Georgia couldn’t get me free.’
‘What happened, Abbie? Who did this to you? Why cut off your hair?’
‘Oh!’ Her hand flew to her head, touching the stubble and the odd, uneven clumps that remained. The relief of rescue had blotted out the cause. ‘Kaelee and Aaron. They came back. She did it but they both blamed me for what happened to them.’
‘They tied you up, set the fire and left you there?’ Rupes eyes narrowed. ‘You could have died.’
‘We nearly did. And my lovely house is burning down.’ Abbie’s eyes filled with tears she couldn’t stop. They overflowed and became a flood down her cheeks.
The Secrets that Lie Within (Taylor's Bend, #1) Page 19