by Iris Blobel
Her eyes widened. “Because I’ve been kissed by a stranger?”
Not able to hold back, he burst into a bark of laughter. “I’m good, but even I know a touch of my lips is nothing that moves the earth.” He paused, watching her expression. “I meant in regard to what happened this morning.”
The long sigh she emitted almost told the whole story, and he wished instead of bringing it up he had kissed her again.
“Someone died under suspicious circumstances, and the police came to see me this morning. I freaked out.”
She held his stare, most likely wanting to see his reaction. And in all fairness, it wasn’t at all what he’d expected. Possibly — but then again, he didn’t know what he’d expected either, yet the mention of the word police threw him a bit.
“You’re not a suspect, are you?” he asked with a little jest in his voice not believing that was the case.
Her gaze went past him as she shook her head. He cupped her chin with both hands, tilting her head towards him to see her eyes. Sadness had taken over, and he could’ve kicked himself for his curiosity.
He drew a deep breath. “Sorry.”
“No. Don’t be. You did nothing wrong.” With a slight lift of her shoulder, she added, “We dated for a very brief time before it ended. His name kind of left a sour taste in my mouth, so I’m still torn between not caring and feeling sorry for him.”
Mat pulled out his wallet from the back pocket of his pants and retrieved one of his business cards.
“My number’s on here. Promise me you’ll call me if you need to talk.”
Tiffany’s lips parted as she reached for the card, but she didn’t say anything. Her hesitation was obvious when she paused before taking it. “I’m fine,” she replied with a slight smile.
“Promise me,” he insisted.
“Yes, Dad,” she mocked. “I promise I will call you if for any reason I will need to talk to someone.”
“’Atta girl.”
“But first let me win the lotto, because this would be an overseas call.”
A frown creased his forehead. “Shit! Never even thought about that.”
She let out a soft laugh, but remained silent.
“Call through, and I will return the call,” he suggested.
“I will, but honestly, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
With no more words, she slid behind the steering wheel, and he closed the door. She started the engine and drove off, leaving him staring after her until she was completely out of sight. A few seconds later, he headed the opposite direction and started to walk back to Steve’s house.
Slowly, and with a constant smile on his face.
He had another three days in Melbourne and hoped to see as much as possible of Tiffany during that time.
And a phone call later that night. That’d be the icing on the cake.
The lights in the house told Mat Steve was still awake. He unlocked the front door and followed the voices to the lounge room. Steve and Jessica were watching television. Mat experienced a moment of awkwardness as he entered his friend’s house after spending the last three hours with Tiffany. The solitude of his own house would’ve been much preferred.
He looked around the room, noticing the female touch to the decor. A few more framed photos sat on the fireplace mantel, a few more cushions on the lounge, the curtains seemed to have more frill than before, the carpet was new, and there were certainly more books on the shelf.
“How are you?” he asked, as he sat on the single seater next to Steve. It didn’t get past him that his friend sported a big grin. But then again, he probably did, too.
“How was dinner?” Jessica asked. “I’m sorry you had to go out.”
He shook his head. “Nah. I went to the pizzeria down the street.”
“Alone?” Steve asked, as he grabbed his beer from the table.
With a chuckle, he replied, “Tiffany.”
Jessica’s eyes widened. “Tiffany Cahill? You know her?”
“She called here this morning. Very persistently if I may say, so I answered.”
She gave Steve a quick look, and Mat wasn’t sure what to make of it. But he continued. “She seemed upset. We got to talking. So when I returned from my meeting this afternoon, I wanted to check whether she was okay. One thing led to another with us ending up meeting at the pizza place.”
Jessica turned to Steve again. “What was wrong?”
“The police stopped by this morning. Hudson is dead. They had a few questions.”
“Who’s Hudson?” Mat asked.
“A guy she knew. Didn’t end well.”
“The one who died under suspicious circumstances?”
Steve’s eyebrow raised a notch. “She told you?”
Mat shook his head. “Not in detail. It’s easier to intimidate someone with the Haka than getting information out of Tiffany.”
Jessica snorted, and Steve replied, “She had a rough time.”
Again, Mat wasn’t sure what to make of Jessica’s gesture. Jealousy? Didn’t she like her? Was there more to the story than Steve let on? But why wouldn’t his friend tell him?
“But you can’t tell me about it?”
He took a sip of his beer before he replied, ‘‘It’s not for me to tell you.”
Mat understood and respected his friend’s reasoning. With a nod, he stood and headed to the kitchen where he snagged a cold drink from the fridge. He twisted the top off the bottle and took a swig. The beer sent a cool rush through his stomach and a shiver down his spine. He thought of Tiffany. How could he not? She was constantly on his mind, her little smile, or her curiosity and interest in so many things. Like his Maori background or what it was like to fly, to be in the air. Two subjects he loved and was able to talk about all the time. Usually, girls cared more about his business and the finances than his love for his job.
Jessica came into the kitchen and placed her cup in the sink. “Good night, Mat. Hope your meeting with the tourist people was successful.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “It was, thank you. It’s more or less a done deal.”
“That’s good. Congratulations. I suppose that means you’re moving to Queenstown now?”
He nodded. “Yes, that’s the plan.”
She picked up the cup again and gave it a rinse. After she’d placed her cup in the sink again, she turned her head and met his gaze. “Tiffany is Steve’s good friend, and I trust his judgement.” The click-clack of her shoes echoed through the kitchen as she walked to the door with slow steps. She reached the door and placed her hand on the doorjamb, staying like that for several moments as though pondering whether or not to say anything. “I still remember seeing Tiff all beaten up in hospital. It’s not something I’ll forget any time soon. So, whenever she comes to Steve with a problem, I worry. Most likely for nothing, yet, I still do.” She let out a long sigh and left.
Mat lifted the beer to his lips, but suddenly the taste and urge was gone, so he tipped it out, called a goodnight down the hall, and headed to his room.
There was so much more about Tiffany he didn’t know.
In fact, he hardly knew her at all, and yet, she was all he could think about. He considered giving Adam another call, but in the end, he threw off his shoes before lying on the bed. With his legs crossed at the ankle and his hands behind his head, he daydreamt for a while, thinking about his new house in Queenstown. He’d bought the place a few weeks earlier, knowing he wanted it the minute he’d stepped inside. There were a few renovations needed, but he was happy to get that organised or do it himself. The house had a European ski chalet look to it with five rooms, but the flat terrace overlooking the lake and the mountains was all he’d needed to see to make an offer. There was a massive shed and a nice garage as well, ideal for all his gear.
And as he envisioned what kind of renovations he had in mind, he imagined Tiffany sitting outside on the terrace with a can of cola in her hand.
He sat up, rubbing his hands over his face, stunned by how much she occupied his mind. Unable to forget the simple touch of her lips on his.
He leaned back into the pillow again, aware of that constant grin on his face.
Four
Tiffany parked in the driveway and fumbled with her keys on her way to the back door. A smile tugged at her lips as she heard the next-door neighbour on the drums again. He’d improved a lot over the last twelve months, and she often had the best intentions to ask him whether he’d played in a band. But life always got in the way.
Walking past the roses next to her bedroom window, she made a mental note to give them some water the next day. Her father always told her that nice front and back yards made up about a third of the property value. She’d laughed at him, but the longer she lived in her own house, the more she appreciated his words.
She inserted the key into the door when someone suddenly appeared out of nowhere, pulling her head backwards. Tiffany’s heart rate spiked, and her head nearly exploded because of the rush of adrenalin through her body, the instant fear, and the shock of the situation she was in. Her instinct told her to fight, but when the tip of a knife touched her throat, barely skimming her skin, she stood still. Frozen.
Cursing Hudson.
And herself for getting involved with him in the first place. Panic raged inside her, fear running rampant through her veins. Her mind was still spinning at the thought that she hadn’t seen or noticed the person in her driveway. He’d come out of nowhere like a ghost in a movie, taking her by surprise.
“Where’s the list?” he asked with a deep voice.
A thousand thoughts rushed through her head, yet none of them of any use. Again, she cursed the hell out of Hudson. He had to be the reason for this. It’d be too much of a coincidence otherwise.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she croaked.
The guy jerked her back by her hair, making it hard for her to swallow.
“Don’t fuck with me.”
The first tear ran down her cheek, and she tried hard to control the spasmodic trembling within her. “Please, you need to give me some kind of hint what you’re after, otherwise we’re not getting anywhere.”
Surprised by her own words and reasoning, she tried to breathe in and out to calm herself. It’d been over a year now since Hudson had beaten her up to the extent that she’d spent three days in hospital. After that, she’d promised herself she’d never be the victim again. Unfortunately, she’d never imagined herself threatened with a knife at her throat.
“What’s on the list? And who would have given it to me?” she rasped.
His snort was vile, his voice held an undertone of cold contempt. “Don’t fuck with me. I saw Hudson coming here.”
“He’s dead.”
Another jerk at her hair made her scream, which resulted in him pressing the knife even harder against her throat.
“Shut up,” he warned her, his breath touching her ears, causing her stomach acid to rise up her throat.
“Here’s how it goes,” he whispered, his voice void of any emotion. “I don’t care what you do or how you do it, but if I don’t have that list by tomorrow, you will join Hudson six feet under.” Yanking her head back again, he threatened, “Understood?”
Not able to move her head, Tiffany croaked a quiet, “Yes.”
The force with which he let go of her head and pushed her away from him was so sudden Tiffany wasn’t able to stop herself from knocking right into the door. The instant pain was so intense it was hard for her to breathe.
With a trembling hand, she inserted the key into the door lock and turned it before rushing inside and slamming it behind her. Tears now flowing in full force, she slid down the wall, not trusting her shaky legs. Yet, as she bowed her head forward, she uttered a string of curses, when a sudden urge made her cover her mouth with her hand. As quick as she was able to, she crawled to the toilet and threw up.
Over and over again until she was dry heaving.
Light-headed, she leaned back, drawing deep breaths through her nose until she was able to feel her heart rate settling. She closed her eyes, trying hard not to faint.
The silence around her weighed heavy on her, the only sound her own breathing. Time stood still, with Tiffany unable to form a thought or move.
After what seemed like hours, she crawled back to her bag and grabbed her mobile and the phone number she was given earlier that day.
With trembling hands, she dialled the number and waited for an answer.
“Hi, it’s Tiffany Cahill here.”
“How can I help you, Miss Cahill?” Sergeant Harris asked.
She wasn’t able to get out a single word, but instead started sobbing uncontrollably.
“What happened?” he demanded.
Her head was aching, her eyes burning, her body shaking, and her mind full of words and details she wanted to tell him.
But no word came across her lips.
Instead, she sobbed even more.
“Tiffany,” he said, his voice low and calming. “Try to answer yes or no.” He paused. “Are you all right?”
The question seemed ridiculous to her, but she croaked, “No.”
“Are you at home?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“Injured?”
She touched her throat but didn’t feel any blood. “No.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Yes.”
He disconnected the call and another wave of relief hit her. Weak and sore, she tried to stand and step-by-step moved to the kitchen where she got herself a glass of water. The cold fluid eased the pain of the acid in the back of her throat, soothed and cooled her parched mouth.
She forced her heavy legs to move and made it to the lounge room where she collapsed onto the sofa. A sense of loneliness spread through her as she picked up the phone, hesitating to call her brother. Hesitating to call Steve.
Another wave of nausea hit her as she realised how much she’d pushed people away over the last year, ending up on the couch alone after being assaulted by a stranger.
She closed her eyes, trying to empty her mind of all the negative thoughts and steady her breathing.
When the doorbell rang a little while later, Tiffany flinched at the shrill sound echoing through the quiet house. A quick glance at the clock told her that it’d been fifteen minutes since she’d called the police. Her shoulders tightened as she stepped to the window and risked a quick peek outside.
It was Sergeant Harris.
Almost dizzy with relief, she headed to the door. Without unhooking the security chain, she slowly opened the door and glanced through the small gap.
“You’re on your own?” she asked.
“Will that be a problem? Senior Constable Jones is off duty.”
Uncertain about letting him in, she was reluctant to open the door any farther.
“Are you alone?”
She nodded.
“Someone you can call? Family?”
“My brother, but I’d rather have a chance to tell him all about it first.”
“Your friend from this morning?”
“He’s pregnant.”
He raised his eyebrow slightly.
“His girl is. Obviously not him.”
He stepped back and pulled out a little notepad. “Okay. Tell me what happened?”
Taken aback by his action, she asked, “Is this putting you in an awkward situation?”
Raising a brow, he asked, “Why?”
She shrugged. “I’m sorry I called you. I came home about an hour ago, parked my car, walked to the back door, and as I was about to go inside, someone came out of nowhere and…”
She choked back a sob, trying hard to remember in detail what had happened. The words, his breath, and his voice were still stored in her head, and she was about to throw
up again. As accurately as possible, she recapped the incident.
“Did you get to see him?”
She bit her lip and murmured, “No.”
Again, he raised a brow, questioning her. “Did you say it happened at the back door?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“And you didn’t see him leave?”
Biting the inside of her cheek, she tried to remember that moment. She rubbed her hands over her face, frustrated for not being able to recall more, but also to banish the unwanted emotions and images out of her head. “No, I was focussed on getting into the house.”
He nodded and scribbled another few notes.
“Okay, you can’t call your brother or your friend. Is there anybody else you could stay with tonight?”
The noise of the door chain caught her attention, and she noticed how she’d absentmindedly fidgeted with it. She stared past him when she finally replied, “I can stay with my mum and dad.” Although the thought caused a wave of anxiety within her. How on earth would she explain the whole situation to her parents?
Her relationship with them had never been easy, especially with her father, who’d had different plans for her career. Travelling around Australia hadn’t been his idea of a solid lifestyle. But she’d had fun for three years exploring the beauty of the country, the people, and various opportunities. Fortunately, when she’d come back to start what her father would’ve called a serious life, they’d helped her financially and paid for the deposit on her house. Since then, she’d survived by taking various jobs to pay the mortgage while studying business management. It was one of her parents’ conditions when giving her the money. It’d been several tough years, but she was close to finishing her degree.
She would’ve been even closer if she hadn’t had the hiccup with Hudson.
It’d been since leaving Hudson that her relationship with her parents had improved. Tiffany doubted though, it was good enough for her mother not to freak out when she’d hear about the reason for Tiffany’s overnight stay.
She couldn’t tell her mother the real reason.
Then again, her body would tell the story without her.
A small sigh escaped her lips.
“We have a safe house north of Melbourne. I could try to get you in there?”