by Jaye Ford
Headlights appeared at the far end of the parking area, moving slowly along the road that circled the hospital grounds. Beside Liv, Rachel lifted her head. ‘It’s the patrol car.’ As it turned into the lot and started to make its way along the front windows of the hospice, Rachel found her cop mode again.
‘I’ll have a warrant for a sample of Daniel’s handwriting in the morning and it’ll be sent to Sydney for document analysis. They’re also trying to get fingerprints from your notes. I’ve got to warn you, though, the forensics takes time. It’ll be a couple of weeks.’
‘Weeks?’ The night air felt suddenly cold and she wrapped her arms around herself.
‘I’ve been given extra manpower to work on this now. This is not just a stalking charge. He’s looking at grievous bodily harm at a minimum.’
It sounded serious. It should be. ‘You’re not going to pick him up tomorrow, though, are you?’
‘No. It won’t happen that fast. We need solid evidence for an arrest.’ Rachel signalled the patrol car over.
This wasn’t going to end overnight. She wasn’t going to get Cameron back anytime soon. ‘What am I meant to do in the meantime? Lock myself in the townhouse and twiddle my thumbs?’
‘You go about your life and stay away from him.’
40
Anger made Liv grip the wheel too tightly as she left the hospital grounds, spinning tyres as she turned into the light evening traffic. Daniel had done it. All of it. She’d thought he was trying to improve things but he’d been deliberately making it worse. Kicking her while she was down. Maybe that was his point – so she’d be more likely to grab the hand he offered. You shit, Daniel.
She focused on the beam of her headlights and the edgy, restless energy ramping up inside her. Daniel hadn’t kicked her. He’d kicked people she loved. Hurt her friends, made her send Cameron away, exhausted her father. And he’d encouraged her to do more than just grab his hand. ‘Well, fuck you.’
Her mobile thrummed the tune of an incoming text. Liv glanced at her bag on the passenger seat, felt a spasm of alarm in her chest. She took a hand off the wheel, fished around inside the bag, swerving sharply as she drifted into the next lane. Shit.
Maybe it was Cameron. It was late. He was upset when she spoke to him after school. She stopped at a red light, resentment welling as she read the text.
On way back. Can we talk? Mayb eat & talk?? I can pick up on way. Indian? Thai? Pizza? Burgers? D
A horn blasted behind her. The light was green. She took off in a hurry and found a spot to pull over. Daniel had manipulated his way into her life, assumed he had a place at her table. She could text back, tell him to fuck off – but there would be no satisfaction in a few abbreviated words. She dialled his number, breathing hard as she waited for him to answer.
‘Hey, Liv.’
His voice was low, gentle, a hint of regret, a suggestion of concern. And she realised, then, how he’d done it. He’d been everything she’d needed. Worried, protective, supportive. It was all deception. Lies. A scam to get what he wanted at her expense. And she’d paid dearly. Not just with her friends and Cam and her father. She’d trusted him. She’d opened a door that had been slammed shut and locked tight, let him in thinking he wanted to protect her when all he was planning was to hurt her more.
She felt like screaming at him but she didn’t. He wanted someone to save. She wanted payback – and retribution was giving him no one to save. She made her voice cool, calm. ‘Hey, Daniel.’
‘Are you at home? Do you want me to check the yard?’
‘No. I’m not there.’ And you’re not invited.
‘Where are you?’
He had to know she’d been at the hospital, freaking out about her father. Did he want to hear about it? ‘In the car.’
He paused. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Everything’s . . .’ Gone to shit, you arsehole, was what she wanted to yell. That wasn’t exactly right, though, was it? She knew now. She could put a face to it all. It wasn’t the face she’d expected, or wanted, but it was a face. Knowledge was power – and right now, it felt like a step up on the last week and a half. She knew and he didn’t. He thought he was still running the game. He didn’t know there’d been a switch in the play. ‘Everything’s just fine, Daniel.’
‘Look, I know it’s getting late but I want to explain. About this morning and leaving like that. Can we talk?’
Did she want to talk to him? Rachel told her to stay away from him but she was sick of hiding. She wanted him to leave her son and father alone and she had nine days’ worth of bottled-up fear and fury to get her message across. ‘Where are you?’
‘Heading back to the office to pick up some gear. I’m about ten minutes away.’
So was she. Her eyes flicked to the rear-view mirror. Was he following her? Is that what he’d been doing all day – harassing her dad then keeping his eye on her to watch the fallout? But there was no one stopped behind her.
‘Have you eaten already?’ he asked. ‘I can grab some dinner when I’m done, if you like.’
He was trying to make it happen. Maybe she’d let him – but not on his terms. He wasn’t coming near the townhouse again and his place was enemy territory. Park Street was a public place, on a main road. ‘I’ll meet you at the office.’
‘You sure you want to go there?’
‘It’s on my way.’
Liv drove past the office for two blocks, stopped at lights and swore. Where the hell was he? She took a left and worked her way back around to Park Street. It was eight o’clock and there were still plenty of cars parked along the kerb. People at cafes or the all-night chemist, she guessed. No sign of a dark four-wheel drive. She paused outside their building, peering through the glass in the front door. No lights inside. Would she see his office light from here? She looked across the road. Was he watching from another vantage point?
He’d said ten minutes. That was fifteen minutes ago. Maybe he’d been further away than he’d estimated. Maybe he was in the car park. Maybe he was dissatisfied with her tone and decided he’d go and hurt someone else she loved.
Anger gathered steam like a coal-fired engine. Who could he hurt now? Tonight? She imagined Kelly and Jason with their girls and her fingers tightened around the steering wheel. Would he go to their house? What could he do at eight o’clock at night? Fire, home invasion, guns, knives. Plenty. Maybe she should ring Kelly, tell her not to open the door. And scare the crap out of her when she had other stuff to worry about? No, not yet. She hit the accelerator instead.
The car park was a bad place to be at night – she still had bruising to prove it. But she wasn’t stopping to chat. She wanted to see if his car was there. See if he was playing hide-and-seek or if he hadn’t turned up at all.
She kept her eyes on the dark, cavernous expanse of the ground floor as she followed the lane around the outside of the lot. It felt like deja vu. Slabs of concrete on the floor and ceiling, intermittent pools of dull light, massive shadowy columns. She expected to see herself skittering across the tarmac in her high heels, getting smacked in the face.
She counted five cars, spread out as though they’d been parked when the place was crowded then left stranded when everyone else had gone. There were two large vehicles on the office side. From this distance, across the dark space, she couldn’t tell if either was his. Or whether he was sitting in one, watching her drive slowly past, deciding if she was scared enough.
Yeah, Daniel. She was scared. Of what he might do to another friend. Angry at what he’d done already. Fear and fury – it made her head spin and her arms tingle and her legs jumpy. Should she go in and check – or just go? Go where? If she went home, he might turn up on her doorstep with a pizza. If she didn’t check, she wouldn’t know if he was here or out hunting.
Her pass-card raised the boom gate at the en
trance. Up ahead, the glow of her headlights was engulfed by the huge, dim space, two narrow beams in half a football field of parking. As she watched the bar drop down in the rear-view mirror, her anger froze and caution took a forward step. She needed the pass-card to get out again – no chance of a quick exit now. She locked her doors, checked her windows. Pay attention, stay alert, be aware of your environment. It was Daniel’s advice. That didn’t make it wrong.
She glanced around. Okay, there was an up and down ramp to her left, the door to the stairwell on the western wall, the zigzag pedestrian path opposite. The five cars were in every direction so she drove a looping circuit around the columns past the first three. All unoccupied. Then she kept her eyes on the two large vehicles opposite, drove close enough for her headlights to sweep them. Both four-wheel drives. The closest one could be his.
She stopped, watched for a moment, trying to match it to the image of the car he’d parked in her driveway. She didn’t check behind or the shadowy columns either side.
Didn’t see him until he tapped on her window.
41
In the dark silence of the car, the sound felt like an electric shock. She turned, saw Daniel’s face centimetres from hers on the other side of the glass and her scalp tingled with a ripple of fear.
Where had he come from? How long had he been watching? He seemed concerned, baffled. Not the look of a man who thought he’d been found out. But then, she’d been fooled for more than a week. He shot a glance over his shoulder into the depths of the car park. Was he checking they were alone? He twirled a finger in the air, signalling her to buzz the window down.
Nope. No way. She flicked her eyes to his other hand, his legs, the concrete at his feet. He’d said he was getting gear. Did he have a weapon? A tool, a stick, a gun? There was nothing but he had pockets and he’d been waiting in the dark.
‘What’s wrong?’ His voice was muffled through the glass. He put a hand on the roof of the car and bent at the waist to see in.
She wished she could move, make a decision, do something more assertive than sit like a stunned fish. His gaze slid over her shoulder to the back seat and an alarm bell rang in her head. Get the hell out, Liv. Go.
She slammed her foot on the clutch, fumbled with the gearstick. Come on, come on. Was that first or third? She hit the accelerator, felt the engine judder for half a second then it stalled. ‘Shit.’
He tapped on the glass again. More a rap this time, a full fist instead of a single knuckle. ‘Open the window.’
She groped for the keys in the ignition, not willing to take her eyes off him. A noise somewhere behind made him straighten up and look over the roof of the car. She saw it then. He didn’t need a weapon. He was huge. A massive hand hanging over the edge of the window, bulked-up biceps inside his T-shirt, broad chest, thick neck. His whole body was a goddamn weapon. It had made her feel safe before, made her feel a whole lot of things. Now it felt like a threat. And as he bent to see in again, as he took his hand from the roof and lifted his elbow, she imagined how easily he could smash the pane. How quickly he could slam his forearm into her face or wrap a hand around her throat. ‘Come on, Liv. Talk to me.’
There was urgency and frustration in his voice now and she knew she couldn’t start the car and drive off faster than he could reach in and hurt her. She left the keys unturned and hit the button for the window.
As the glass started down, he spoke into the gap. ‘What happened?’ When there was enough room, he leaned on the top edge of the pane and put his face into the space.
Instinct made her lean away. Was he asking about the car stalling or about her father? She knew the look in his eyes. He was watching, assessing. That wasn’t a con. She wanted to hide her face but she’d played the role of a desperate, frightened victim – and she was done with it.
The centre console was against her hip, the seatbelt tight across her chest. She was hemmed in, unable to move quickly so she unclipped the belt, tried to make the move look decisive, not defensive. Then she shrugged – loose, casual, not panic-stricken. ‘Nothing happened,’ she said.
Doubt flickered briefly in his eyes before his expression softened. ‘Liv, look. I just want to talk.’
He dropped to his haunches, not shoulder to shoulder anymore but facing her, their eyes level. He hooked his arm over the window frame, let his elbow drop inside, a mate settling in for a chat. In other circumstances, it might have worked. But it was dark, they were alone, he was muscular and fit – and it felt menacing.
Panic was telling her to dive across the car and escape out the passenger door but she knew she’d never make it. She grabbed the doorhandle, shoved outwards, felt the solid mass of his body as she pushed him back and stepped out onto the concrete. ‘Okay. Let’s talk.’
But he didn’t, at least not straightaway. They stood either side of the open door, the internal light spilling into the darkness between them. He seemed unsure, a little cheesed off. Then his eyes took in her braced shoulders, her feet ready to move. And he changed his tack, relaxed his body, opened his hands.
‘Can we go somewhere?’ he suggested. ‘The pub up the road is open.’
She glanced around. There was traffic noise coming from Park Street, the lights from the main road illuminating the entrance to the laneway but the parking lot and narrow access road were deserted. She didn’t like it here but she didn’t want to leave the car. It felt safer in its light. Move away and he could kill her quietly and she wouldn’t be found until morning. ‘No. We can talk here.’
He wasn’t happy about it. He dropped his gaze to his feet, took a breath as he looked up again. ‘If I scared you, I’m . . .’
‘Scared me?’ She spat the words like venom.
He saw his mistake, held up a palm. ‘What I meant was . . .’
‘You want to know if I’m scared? You want to hear that I’m quaking in my boots? That I’m scared stiff? That I’m shitting myself?’
‘What?’
She took no notice of his frown, figured it was bullshit. ‘Would that make your dreams go away?’
‘I don’t know how to make them go away.’
‘You think scared shitless would do it? Or do you want me to be more scared than that?’
There was surprise in the flush of emotions that crossed his face. ‘You think it’s me?’
‘How about fucking terrified? Would that satisfy you, you arsehole?’
He stepped up to the car door. She backed off, wishing she hadn’t pushed so hard. He was a runner. So was she but he had height and reach on her. Could she run to the road before he got to her? Maybe she only needed to run around the car, grab her phone off the passenger seat. Then what? Threaten him with it? Wait for him to deck her while she dialled?
‘You’ve got it wrong, Liv. It’s not me. I don’t want you to be scared. I want you to be safe. I want this to be over for you.’
The soothing pitch of his voice sent a shiver down her spine. Be careful, Liv. There was violence in him. Hidden and contained. She wanted to keep it there. She took a breath, copied his tone.
‘I know why you left Fire Rescue, Daniel. I know about the AVOs. I’ve seen what the nightmares do to you. You need help.’
‘The AVOs?’ He raised his voice. ‘What the fuck have the AVOs got to do with anything?’
She held her calm. ‘You have to stop.’
‘It’s not what you think. The AVOs . . . Liv, it’s not the same thing. I don’t want to hurt you. I want to keep you safe. Christ, it’s for my sake as much as yours.’
Yeah, she knew about that. ‘I don’t need you to save me, Daniel. I don’t want you to save me. Do you hear me?’
‘How did you know about the AVOs?’
‘I want you to leave. Now.’
‘Who told you about the apprehended violence orders?’ He edged the door forward as
he spoke. ‘What else did they tell you?’
‘Enough to figure out the rest.’
‘What rest?’
She didn’t say, let him find it in her face.
His voice boomed through the car park. ‘Jesus Christ, you think I hurt those people? You think I threw Teagan off the car park then ran down to see how much damage I’d done?’
‘Is that what you did?’
He dragged his hand back and forth across the stubble of his hair. ‘Who told you about the AVOs?’
She wanted to yell that the cops knew. That it was only a matter of time. That he was going to pay for what he’d done. But Rachel had said she needed evidence to prove it. Would he disappear if he knew they were onto him?
‘It’s Rachel, isn’t it? What the fuck is she doing? She’s got it wrong, Liv. Don’t listen to her.’ He shoved hard at the door and the barrier between them disappeared with a resounding echo through the car park.
This was it. Just him and her. She jumped back, landing automatically in a guard stance – feet shoulder distance apart, left one forward, weight balanced. Her arms were by her sides but her hands were loosely clenched, ready to form fists.
His eyebrows slid together. ‘You getting ready for a fight?’
‘Stay away from me.’
‘Is this a set-up? Are we waiting for Rachel?’
‘Yeah.’ Let him think that.
He squared his chest as he stepped closer. There was derision in his voice. ‘Did she send you to get me to confess?’
‘That’s right.’ She backed up past the rear door. ‘I was happy to do it, you bastard.’
‘Fucking hell, Liv. What do you think I am?’
The volume of his voice made her lift her fists. ‘I don’t know what you are.’
He swapped to his soothing tone. ‘Liv, I would never hurt you. Don’t do this.’ He reached for her wrist.
She angled away out of his reach, circling backwards and around, keeping the car close, Daniel between it and her now, the darkness behind her. ‘Stay away from me.’