In cool deliberation, he loaded and locked another bullet into his .308. Meeting Frank’s pitiful gaze, he shook his head in disappointment. “Frank, that was chance number one. So let’s not waste any more time. What did you do to Jessie in the shearing shed?” With his patience oozing from him like blood seeping from a wound, BJ was gripped in an escalating scenario of do or die.
“Nothing. Really it was nothing.” Tears leaked from Frank’s eyes as he struggled to stay in control. “I didn’t mean to. It just came over me.”
“You didn’t mean to do what, Frank?”
“It was so long ago. I’ve forgotten all about it. Can’t we all just forget about it?” He ducked his head and closed his eyes, as BJ aimed his rifle, sending another bullet whacking into the tree. This time it whisked the grey hairs standing on Frank’s head. His beleaguered cry could have been mistaken for a cockatoo screech. Not in the least out of place on a country afternoon when menacing rain clouds churned in the sky.
The sound mildly amused BJ as he locked him in a scathing stare. “You see, Frank, you may have forgotten, but it wasn’t nothing. Now. That was your second chance. What is it you didn’t mean to do?” Calm and calculating, he once more set to his task of reloading his rifle.
“Surely you’re not going to kill me and risk going to jail?”
“Frank, I’ve killed many men in my life, probably far better men than you. If I have to kill you to give Jessie peace, I will. We have a saying in the army…Better to ask forgiveness than to ask permission. If this ends up with you dead, and me arrested for your murder, then so be it. I’d rather be asking for forgiveness than permission for killing a child molester.”
Frank’s face fell.
“So, this is your third and final chance…” He raised the rifle, butting it into his shoulder.
In a final attempt of bluster, Frank babbled. “I didn’t do anything. You have no proof. You’re no better than that Skip Norton who abducted that wretched girl. I’ll have you arrested for this…”
There was no turning back now for BJ. As he’d told Jessie, when you call in the SAS, it’s not to negotiate. It’s to resolve the situation with violence. By Frank’s reactions, he knew he was correct. Time to rain down hell…for Jessie, for Rachael, for Tiffany.
Cocking his weapon, he locked on his target. “Your life, as you know it, is over.”
“No, wait,” yelled another voice.
BJ glanced over his shoulder to see Jessie running towards him. “No, BJ. You don’t have to. You don’t have to.”
“Jessie, thank goodness, you’ve arrived. This crazy boyfriend of yours was about to kill me. Untie me this instant.”
Ignoring her uncle’s demands, she reached for the rifle, pushing the barrel towards the ground. “It’s all right. It’s all right.” She cupped BJ’s cheeks in her hands. “You don’t need to save me this time. I’ve got this.”
“Jessie, I’m sure he…”
She nodded. “I know.” She marched to the tree where her uncle was bound.
“It’s about time, girl. Untie me.”
“Don’t you speak to me, you wretched man.” A harsh, wire-taut voice hissed from her. “I remember. I remember everything.” She paced backwards and forward in front of him. “I was only little, maybe five years old, and I came into the shearing shed to look for Penny. You were in there, drinking. You offered to help me look for Penny. But I didn’t want to stay. I knew something was wrong. When I tried to leave, you grabbed me. You told me you had Penny in a hessian bag, and you wouldn’t give her back to me unless I stayed. You picked me up and sat me on some sort of crate. Then you whispered how much you loved me, that I was your favourite. In that filthy shed you did filthy things to me.” Utter disgust dripped from her voice as she rubbed the vile past from her cheek. Standing in front of her uncle, she snarled. “You licked my face, and then you touched me. You slid your hand into my pants and touched me.” With hands clenched and eyes seething with rage, she screamed. “What kind of sick pervert are you to touch a little girl? Your own niece.”
“It’s a lie, it’s a lie,” Frank blathered.
BJ’s fist connected deep in Frank’s belly. “Speak again, and I will kill you,” he growled over Frank’s lolling head.
“It is not a lie. Because of you, my life has been filled with nightmares and a feeling of never being good enough. You threatened that if I told anyone you would kill Penny. Nearly every day that holiday I had to meet you in the shearing shed, and you did despicable things to me or Penny would die.”
Frank groaned as he hung like a broken scarecrow from the tree.
Jessie grabbed his chin, shoving his face upward, so he had to look at her. “But Dad suspected something was wrong because he asked why I kept going to the shearing shed. And when I couldn’t tell him, he followed me. That was the day Dad called me, and you walked out of the shed after me. That must have been what the fight was about. Dad suspected. But I just shut it all out, except in my nightmares. How could you do this?” She spat the accusation in his face.
Nothing. Nothing, but silence. No birds, no sheep, no wind. Even the gurgling waters of the river seemed to have quietened in respect for Jessie’s painful catharsis. Storming off, she moved into BJ’s open arms and breathed a series of short, sharp breaths. After a few long moments, she pushed out of the embrace, speared her fingers across her scalp and marched back to her uncle.
“Stand up and be a man.” The force in her voice demanded obedience. He struggled upright, silent and timid. “So here’s how it’s going to work, Uncle Frank.” The sarcasm she inflected on the last two words brought a proud smile to BJ’s face. “You’re going to find the one hundred thousand dollars you owe us and deposit it into Mum’s account within seven days. If you don’t I will be speaking to the state’s prosecutor, Aaban Naser, about bringing child molestation charges against you.”
Frank’s mouth opened only to be snapped shut by a swift flick from BJ. “I suggest you let the lady speak.”
She continued. “I will not press charges if you not only deposit the money, but you break all ties with my family. We will not see you again. You will leave this afternoon. You will not visit Coodravale again, ever. But if Aunt Hilda wishes to visit she is most welcome. Unfortunately you have already tainted poor Tom, so he’s in no man’s land.” She took a beat. “Furthermore, I suspect your perversions with young girls probably still exist…”
Frank’s eyes darted sideways.
Images of Tiffany danced in BJ’s mind. To bring this perpetrator to justice, right here and now, would give him such satisfaction. He also knew it would only lead to his own self-destruction. Despite everything, he no longer wanted the smell of death on his hands. Dragging in a deep breath, he channelled every self-discipline technique he’d ever employed to manage his wrath. Leaning in to Frank’s face, he whispered his menacing question. “Is this true, Frank?”
Still with lowered head, Frank blinked the sweat from his eyes and bit his lip.
“And where do you do this, Frank? Online or in person?” BJ scrutinised every reaction Frank couldn’t hide. “Both is it? But not here? Overseas perhaps? Is that what the money was for that you borrowed from Ken?” A flicker of Frank’s crinkled eyelids and the escalating fear seeping from his pores signalled BJ had found the mark. “And your poor family believes that you’re off on some buying trip for your vintage cars. It is vintage cars you’re interested in, isn’t it Frank?”
Frank nodded feebly.
“But the trip isn’t for the cars. It’s for your sick perversions…”
He whimpered, unable to withstand the interrogation any longer. BJ spat at his hostage’s feet, pivoted and strode away. If he stayed within reach, he would surely strangle the freak. Try as he might, BJ couldn’t swallow the filth swirling in his mouth.
Back at the tree, Jessie continued to dispense her own form of justice. “Therefore, you will surrender your passport to me, or I will call the police.”
F
rank nodded.
“Where is your passport now?”
“At home,” he murmured.
“You will post it to me here as soon as you get home. Agreed?”
Frank nodded once more.
“Also, you will submit yourself to counselling, which I’m sure the crown prosecutor, who is trying the case against Skip Norton, will arrange. If you fail to attend these sessions, I will press charges, which Aaban will be even more delighted to prosecute. Do you understand?”
Frank gave another meek nod of his head.
“Good. Break one of these conditions, and I will rain down hell upon you.”
BJ managed a half-smile at her use of one of his tactical training terms. It pleased him enormously to hear it from her sweet lips. He stalked over to join his ballerina warrior.
“So let’s not have any foolishness, Uncle Frank. The last thing you want is to be arrested, tried and jailed as a child molester. Jail is an ugly place for perpetrators like you.”
Frank groaned. BJ suspected the old leopard may not change its spots, but the conditions under which Jessie cut this deal certainly provided opportunity for everyone to move on.
“Cut him loose, BJ.”
As instructed, he released Frank who slumped pitifully. No longer the blustering predator, he listed like a shipwreck.
“I will say my goodbye now. I will see Aunt Hilda and Tom before you go.”
Lifting his head, Frank looked at Jessie. “I know it means nothing, but I am sorry, Jessie. I didn’t mean…”
“Out!” She screamed the directive with a fierce snap of her arm. “Sorry will never make up for the horrors I’ve endured because you.”
Skulking away, Frank hobbled over the knoll. As he retreated from view, BJ figured Frank had got a damn good deal. At least, he wasn’t dead.
Chapter 48
Jessie’s body crackled like a bushfire. She’d come face to face with fear and won. With BJ standing silently beside her, they watched Frank stumble away. Battered and bruised, he collapsed on the ground and rubbed his welted wrists. A small part of her felt sorry for him, while another part hated him for the childhood he’d stolen from her. She gritted her teeth and stared hard into the distance. Finally, she’d escaped from the dark depths of her nightmares, from Skip’s evil clutches and from years of anxiety. The haunting was over. She exhaled a long, pent up breath. She knew it would take time to heal, but knowing what happened all those years ago liberated her to begin the process. She inclined her head upwards and met BJ’s wild blue gaze.
“I told you, you were tough, Jessie Hilton.”
She was too exhausted to speak.
“Frank. Frank, what’s wrong?” Hilda’s shrill voice rang out as she rushed to where her husband slumped on the grass. On kneeling beside him, she examined his wrists. A few moments later, she raised her head. Her shocked expression could be seen from where Jessie and BJ stood. Frank shook his head and lowered it into his hands. Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, Hilda rocked him like a baby.
“I think he’s going to tell her,” whispered BJ.
“Why?”
“Because there’s only a certain amount of shame any man can live with.”
An anguished sound pealed through the valley. It reminded Jessie of a wounded bullock her father had had to shoot many years ago. But it was her uncle. His bellowing sheared Coodravale’s stillness and the birds screeched as they took off towards the ranges. Tense moments passed until peace returned.
“Look.” Surprise laced BJ’s voice.
Jessie’s eyes opened wide as she watched Aunt Hilda help Frank onto his knees. In the position of prayer, husband and wife knelt side by side and lowered their heads.
“She’s making him pray,” said Jessie, her voice choking with emotion. “She’d be asking for God’s forgiveness for his sins.”
“Do you think that’s why your dad asked Father Conlon to preside at his funeral? Since your father couldn’t prove anything, maybe he’d discussed his suspicions with the priest. That would explain the friction between Frank and Father Conlon.”
“You could be right. When Father Conlon spoke to me at the hospital, he kept saying Dad tried to protect me. But I didn’t understand what he meant.”
“Father Conlon couldn’t have said anything because of his vows. But if I had to guess, he and your dad had a pact of some kind to protect you, since nothing could be proved against our uncle.”
In the distance, Hilda pulled herself to her feet. Lifting her chin, she stared in their direction. Jessie was sure her aunt looked directly at her. Hilda nodded once and waited. Jessie responded similarly. Bending over, Hilda assisted her husband to his feet and with her arm hooked around his waist, helped him back to the homestead.
“Thank you so much for your hospitality through this difficult time, Joanna.” Sweet and serene, Aunt Hilda embraced Jessie’s mother with a kiss to both cheeks. “Frank will be depositing the money he owes into your account before Christmas Day, so you have no need to worry yourself further over it.”
A spontaneous smile tipped Joanna’s mouth as she nodded towards them. “Thank you. It is much appreciated to have this sorted out.” Squeezing Hilda’s hands in hers, she was obviously thrilled to have the debt behind her.
Jessie noticed her uncle didn’t speak during the farewells. He barely managed a timid smile and a nod. Aside from these small responses, his body seemed devoid of life. Aunt Hilda’s excuse of his being allergic to bee stings proved genius as the reason for the red bump on his cheek. Clever woman, my Aunt Hilda.
“Also, Frank’s health has deteriorated quite badly with the travel, so we won’t be visiting you again at Coodravale. But I might pop out to see you now and then. Or we can catch up when you visit Sydney, Joanna.”
Before Joanna could question Aunt Hilda’s reference to Frank’s health, Jessie wrapped an arm around her mother’s waist. “That sounds just fine, Aunt Hilda.” With a tight squeeze and captivating smile, Jessie finished the conversation. “We’ll see you soon then. Merry Christmas…”
Hilda leaned in and kissed Jessie with the lightness of a feather. In a departing whisper, she added, “Merry Christmas, my dear. Frank will never trouble you again.”
Jessie’s lips tipped upwards, and she mouthed a silent thank you.
“Merry Christmas, everyone. Come Frank. I’ll drive while you relax.” Hilda ushered an acquiescent Frank into the front passenger seat, while Tom farewelled his relatives with brief hugs and kisses. In no time, the Hilton family was edging along the driveway, away from Coodravale.
“How odd.” Tilting her head, Joanna frowned as she watched them go. “Whatever has happened to Frank?”
“Don’t worry about it, Mum,” said Jessie. “All’s well that ends well.”
“Yeah, forget about it, Mum. It’s good to not have to listen to him go on and on about himself.” Moving to one side, Richard tapped a cigarette from his pack and lit up.
“Aside from making the best scones around, Hilda is a remarkable woman, isn’t she?” said BJ, with a sideways glance at Jessie.
“She most certainly is.” She inclined her head on his shoulder.
“Richard, do you really have to smoke?” badgered Joanna.
“I do, if you want me to stay here and help you run Coodravale.”
The three of them blinked and stared at Richard.
“What? I thought you wanted to get to the city as soon as possible?” said Joanna.
“That’s what I thought too, Mum. But with Dad’s death and everything else that’s gone on here, I figure I can stay for at least a year to help you out. God, I’m only twenty-three. If a son can’t help his widowed mother, what good is he as a man?”
Jessie did a double-take. For a brief moment, her brother looked uncannily like her father. There was a quiet, inner strength about him. The same strength her father had obviously called upon the moment he’d suspected his brother was sexually abusing her and burned down the shearing shed. But becaus
e he didn’t know for sure, her father had become tormented over his inability to prove anything. He withdrew into himself and became a dour, embittered man. At the hospital, he’d kept saying he was sorry and this is what he probably meant. He was sorry for not knowing, for not being able to prove the abuse and for not stopping it sooner. So many things started to make sense about her father now that she’d remembered that dreadful past. Good things can come from bad times. Shooing away the sad memories and welcoming the good, she returned her attention to the conversation.
Richard stubbed out his cigarette, picked up the butt and shoved it back in the empty packet. “So what do you think about my staying around a little longer to help you out, Mum?”
“Oh, Richard, that’s wonderful news. Thank you.” Joanna wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging tightly.
Withdrawing, he regarded his mother with a serious look. “But there is one thing I have to tell you.”
“Okay, what is it?”
“Mum, I’m gay.”
Jessie squeezed BJ’s hand tight. Neither of them moved.
“Gay? Oh, I see. But what has this to do with me, or with you’re staying on here at Coodravale?” A sly smile lifted the corners of Joanna’s lips.
“I thought I should tell you. You’re my mother, and you should know about my sexual preferences…”
“Oh, Richard. I’ve known you were gay since you were about twelve years old. It’s no surprise to me, darling. I’ve been waiting for you to finally speak about it.”
“But how did you know?” He looked a little disappointed his news hadn’t come as a shock.
“As I said before, mothers are cleverer than you think.” She tweaked his chin.
“But what about Dad? Did he know?”
“I’d been telling him for years, so he sort of knew. He just didn’t want to mention it to you in case it made you feel uncomfortable.”
“And he didn’t mind? About me being gay?”
“At first, he denied it, but he came to accept it. He loved you. You were his son.”
Retribution: Who would you kill to escape your past? Page 25