by D. B. Tait
The police car roared to a halt and two uniformed cops emerged.
“He went that way,” she pointed.
The two officers took off in pursuit.
Julia turned back to the house where Dee held a sobbing Blossom while Eleanor looked like she wanted to kill someone. An effect heightened by the rifle she held in her hands.
“What the hell are you doing? I thought you got rid of that years ago. It’s not loaded is it?” Julia asked her, horrified at the sight.
Eleanor shook her head. “I graduated from killing snakes when we lived up north to the rifle range here. I thought it might scare him.”
“Put it away. It’s scaring me. Do you have a license for it?”
Eleanor shrugged. “Of course. I like shooting.”
“Ma! Get rid of it! The cops are coming back.”
Eleanor held the rifle in one hand and massaged the top of her arm with the other.
“Are you hurt?”
“No. I’m fine.” Eleanor grimaced and jerked her head to the lights going on in houses all along the street. “The neighbors are going to get very tired of us.”
Julia herded them all back into the house. “Too bad. Come inside. And get rid of that thing.”
Blossom was still crying, but furious tears. “That bastard,” she sobbed, holding her face where he hit her. “I should never have let him in.”
“You let him in?” Eleanor said sharply to Blossom as they made their way into the lounge room.
From the look of her face, Blossom would have a fine shiner. Julia hoped she’d hit Rez hard enough to compensate. She lifted her hand and inspected it. Grazes across the knuckles but nothing broken. She wouldn’t be using it to scrape paint for a few days.
Blossom sat back on the couch and avoided her mother’s gaze. “He wanted to see me. I thought he was concerned about me but he’s only concerned about scoring and making money.” She bent forward, held her head in her hands and started rocking back and forth. “I’m an idiot. A fucking idiot. Why did I ever let that dropkick into my life?”
Eleanor sighed with exasperation. “Don’t ask me,” she muttered on her way upstairs to stow away the gun. Julia refrained from offering an opinion, more concerned about what he wanted.
“What did you throw off the cliff, Bloss?”
Blossom sat back up, her eyes filled with fear. “Oxycontins. About twenty packets all bundled up. Oh, God. I am in such trouble.” She stood suddenly and made for the stairs. “I have to get away. He’ll be after me. I can’t stay here, it’s too dangerous.”
Julia pulled her back and made her sit.
“Stop it. Stop panicking. The police will be back in a minute. We need to tell them and let them take it from there.”
“I’m going to call Dylan,” Dee said.
Julia’s heart sank. But she nodded. They need some advice from someone more senior.
As Dee bustled out to call Dylan, the uniformed police burst through the door, confirming Rez had disappeared. They started the process of taking statements, while Eleanor saw to Blossom’s face and Julia’s knuckle. Within a few minutes, Dylan arrived, looking frazzled. She couldn’t blame him. It was three o’clock in the morning and freezing.
“Oh God, Dylan. We’re so glad you’re here,” Dee said. “We don’t know what to do.”
He gave her a brief hug. Julia avoided his gaze, too conscious of their last encounter and the inconvenient interest her body seemed to take in him. While she banked up the fire and listened to Dee’s version of the night’s events he asked a couple of questions, then sat next to Blossom on the couch. Julia stayed away from his line of sight, but hovered, listening to him question the now considerably quieter but furious Blossom.
“Tell me how many oxies were in the package, Bloss.”
“There were about twenty packets with fifty in them. A lot.”
“Do you know where he got them from?”
She shook her head.
“And why did you have them?”
“I didn’t know I had them,” she cried, clutching him arm. “Truly. After I got out of detox I was going through my car and found them in the boot. He planted them there. When I saw them I was so furious, I took them and threw them off the cliff.”
“Which cliff, Bloss?”
“Just at the bottom of the garden.”
“How long ago?”
She hesitated, thinking. “When I got out, so that’s, what, three days ago? Yeah, that’s right.”
Dylan grunted and stood, frowning down at her.
“You’re sure he didn’t tell you where he got them from?”
She shook her head. Julia could tell she told the truth. Blossom had a tendency to over explain when she lied.
“Okay,” Dylan said. “If he’s out there it’s too dark to find him. Knowing him, I doubt he’ll be hiding in the bush on a cold night like this, especially when the drugs aren’t here anymore. He’ll be holed up at some mate’s place planning his next move, which hopefully will be trying to find the oxies. You’ll need to show me exactly where you threw them tomorrow, Bloss. In the meantime, I’ll have someone stay here for the next few hours until dawn.”
He looked over at the two uniforms and sighed at their appalled faces.
“Looks like that’ll be me.”
Julia turned away and fiddled with the wood burning stove. “There’s no real need for you to do that. I don’t think he’ll come back.”
“Yeah, well, that’s not a judgement call I’m keen to make.”
Julia straightened away from the stove only to see a reproachful look on Dee’s face, a reproachfulness directed at her.
“We’d be grateful if you could stay, Dylan. I’ll make up the spare room,” Dee said.
He shook his head. “Better if I stayed down here, Dee. If Rez does come back, I can deal with him more quickly. Your couch and a quilt will be fine.”
“I’ll put on some coffee,” Julia said, making for the kitchen. Her heart sank when Dee appeared at her elbow.
“I know you have a problem with the police, but rudeness to my friends is not acceptable,” she hissed. “He’s trying to help us. Blossom could be in a lot of trouble.”
Julia felt her cheeks heat. If only that was the real problem. He wanted information she couldn’t give him. Information that would drag her back into a world she wanted to leave behind. The fact she could barely meet his eyes without noticing the dark stubble on his cheeks or the way his dishevelled hair curled at his collar, didn’t help.
“Sorry,” she hissed back. “It’s just that Rez is probably long gone. There’s no need for him to put himself out. And I don’t have a problem with him.”
“Then stop behaving as though you do. It’s unnecessary and childish.” She grabbed some cups and swept out of the kitchen, leaving a trail of disapproval.
Julia gritted her teeth. Dee hadn’t spoken to her like that since she was a teenager. Then she’d been relieved that she cared enough to reprimand her. Now she just felt silly.
*
She had to put a stop to whatever strangeness was going on between her and Dylan. Nothing could come of it. Bad for his career and as for her, the thought of anything intimate with a man made her break out in a cold sweat. She wasn’t frightened of him, just wary. No, she could see he was a decent man doing a hard job. But revealing herself in that way to anyone was too much to consider. Complicated and dangerous. Particularly now with all this chaos around Blossom.
She carried the coffee plunger and a jug of milk into the lounge room, determined to be friendly and cool.
Dylan moved around the room, checking the locks on the windows. He grunted when she offered him a cup and shook his head at her offer of milk. Dee bustled back in with a quilt and some pillows and started to arrange the couch. Eleanor and Blossom had gone back to bed.
“You know where everything is, Dylan?” Dee asked.
He smiled and nodded. “Sure do. Go to bed. You look done in. I’ll have this coffee an
d settle in for the night. You should go to bed too,” he said to Julia, without looking at her.
“Yes,” she said, injecting what she hoped was just the right amount of bright friendliness into her voice. “I will.” She waited until Dee disappeared up the stairs. “Contrary to what I said earlier, I really do appreciate you staying here tonight. Everyone feels much safer.” Even in her ears she sounded pompous and artificial. “I mean… I…” She started tripping over her words, which got worse as his sharp gaze pinned her like a butterfly in a display case.
She pushed her dishevelled hair away from her face. “Look. I’m sorry. Everything I say to you seems to come out the wrong way. I guess I’m still trying to work out how to live in this world and I didn’t expect you to—”
“To what? To help you? To be a human being?”
“Something like that,” she said, in a small voice. She took in a deep breath and let it out with a whoosh. “None of my experiences with the police have been particularly good. But you’re a friend of Dee’s and she doesn’t make friends with people who are… are…”
“Psychopaths?”
She threw up her hands in defeat and plonked herself down in an armchair. “Shit. I can’t do this. I’m kidding myself.”
Dylan considered the woman in front of him with surprise. He didn’t intend to make it any easier for her. He settled himself onto the couch and sipped his coffee, studying her. She wore a battered old woollen sweater over stripped men’s pyjama bottoms. Her feet were thrust into some old shoes and her hair was a rat’s nest. At the moment she gazed at him with something like gloomy resignation in her eyes. He firmly shut down all thoughts of her as anything other than someone who had information he wanted. If he could just get her to trust him, she might tell him all about O’Reardon’s drug trafficking in jail.
“Can’t do what?” he said.
“Have a reasonable conversation with anyone without sounding like an idiot. I have arrested development.”
He snorted with laughter.
“Don’t laugh. It’s true,” she said with feigned dignity. “I went into jail when I was barely out of teenager-hood, and now I’m expected to behave like an adult. I feel like I’ve just come out of a convent.” She shrunk into the armchair, scowling. “Every time I open my mouth, I offend someone.”
“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard jail described as a convent.”
“You’d be surprised,” she said. “There are lots of similarities. No men, except for prison officers, lots of repression, and a twisted view of the real world.”
“I don’t think convents are like that anymore,” he said, willing to play.
“My point exactly. They saw how destructive living that way was, so they changed. Can’t see that happening anytime soon with jail.”
“No, I suppose not.” He smiled at her over the rim of his cup. A slow warmth settled through his bones when she smiled back and held his gaze, the beginnings of a flirtatious gleam in her eyes.
And just like that, it was gone. She dropped her eyes and climbed out of the chair.
“I’ll leave you alone to get some sleep if you can.”
“What are you frightened of?” He didn’t know why he’d blurted out the question, but it made her stop.
She stood in profile to him, her whole body thrumming with tension. Fight or flight? She looked as though she was trying to decide. Finally, her shoulders slumped and she turned to him a wry smile on her face.
“Frightened?” She sat back on her chair and ran her fingers through her long hair, pushing it off her face. “Where to begin?” she muttered. “I was in a shop the other day. Ma had leant me her cell phone but I didn’t know how to work it. It rang and I panicked. Didn’t have a clue what to do with it. The shop keeper freaked out when she saw my face on the front of the local newspaper. I guess she doesn’t get convicted murderers in her place very often. She wasn’t as horrible as the newsagent but she was close. So I guess, yeah, there are a few things I’m anxious about.”
“That wasn’t what I meant.”
“No? Then what did you mean?”
He sipped his coffee and continued to watch her, debating on whether to bring it out in the open. ‘It’ being whatever was happening between them.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, with a burst of welcome good sense. “Thanks for the coffee. You should go get some sleep.”
She didn’t move but sat with a quizzical frown on her face.
“And what are you frightened of?”
He grunted out a laugh. “That’s a long list.”
“Yeah?” She stopped as if wanting to ask some more but not sure of the wisdom of the question. He knew all about that dilemma. When she opened her mouth to speak, he realized whatever good sense he’d drawn on was rapidly disappearing. Somehow he found himself not caring.
“When you first met me, you made a comment about being judge, jury, and executioner.”
He winced. “I know. I thought I’d apologized.”
She waved that away. “That doesn’t matter. But it made me think you had a pretty strong reaction to someone who was convicted of taking matters into their own hands. Being a vigilante.”
He let out a sigh and reached forward to put his cup on the coffee table. “Yeah. I guess that’s true.” He didn’t offer more, but didn’t count on her ability to wait. “I worked on the Dale Rowe case.”
“Ah,” she said, a look of sadness in her eyes. “The lovely Alisha.”
“You know her. Of course you do.”
She nodded. “I was in the working in the reception wing as a sweeper when they bought her in. She was screaming and crying she had nothing to do with murdering her daughter.” She sighed. “Most of us knew as soon as we saw her that wasn’t true. She insisted her boyfriend had done it.”
“Yeah, well, she convinced her neighbors. They lynched him.”
“I remember. A couple of them went down for his murder didn’t they?”
He nodded, remembering the sanctimonious drug-addled ravings of the two main offenders. When they found out Dale Rowe had nothing to do with little Eva’s murder and that they were both looking at long stretches inside, they fell over themselves to blame each other.
“And she eventually went down as well,” Julia said with another sigh. “She and I belong to the same club.”
“You’re nothing like her,” he said sharply. “Nothing.”
“And yet there we were in Dillwynia hanging out our washing and chewing the fat. That was after she got out of the nut house.” She laughed shortly. A bleak and hopeless sound. “Which gave us even more in common.”
A spike of fury made his pulse quicken. “She was a monster.”
“A monster? That hoary old chestnut. What makes her more a monster than me? Because she killed a child and I killed a pedophile priest? Am I a better class of murderer?”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said, trying to control his anger. “What you did was wrong but you faced up to it. Not only did she deny what she’d done, she did everything she could to pin it on her hapless boyfriend, knowing he’d be on the top of the list of suspects. We all know loser boyfriends are more likely to kill their de facto’s kids than anyone else. That’s what everyone thought. That’s why he ended up a charred mess of flesh and bones lying on a vacant lot in Shalvey. The result of her manipulation and lies.”
Julia watched his growing distress with concern. His face was chalk white and his hands were curled into tight fists in his lap.
“Is that why you moved up here? To get away from all that?”
He glared at her but something about her question seem to diffuse his rage. He scrubbed his face with his hands and leaned back in the couch.
“Sorry. It was a bad time for me. Dead babies and burnt bodies are not a great mix. But that wasn’t the only reason I moved up here. My marriage broke up and I needed a change.”
“Away from Western Sydney to the peaceful upper mountains.”
He
snorted. “Yeah, right. Not with O’Reardon around. Drugs and violence go hand in hand. The mountains unfortunately are not immune.”
And there it was. The elephant in the room. He wanted something from her about O’Reardon and she couldn’t give it to him.
Silence descended as they stared at each other.
“Time to let you get some sleep,” Julia said as she climb out of her chair.
She passed him on the way to the stairs.
“Jules.”
She stopped and turned.
“Thanks for the coffee.”
She nodded and climbed the stairs, leaving him to ponder until dawn.
Chapter 12
Sleep eluded Julia. At six o’clock she gave up and decided to start the day. She threw herself into the shower, dressed in jeans and a new, closely-fitting black sweater then tied her hair up with a clip. Hesitating, she shrugged and put on some tiny fake emerald earrings. A bit of color wouldn’t hurt.
She crept down the stairs not wanting to wake Dylan but curiosity set in, pushing her to check on him. She poked her head around the lounge room door and saw him face down asleep on the couch. He’d removed his sweater and the quilt had slid off his torso.
Okay…
The fire had burnt down so the house was chilly. Paralyzed with indecision, she hovered in the hallway.
“Damn it,” she muttered and crept in to cover him.
Her pulse hammered as she reached for the quilt. She could touch him, just slide her hand across the smooth, hard plane of his back. If he woke she would say it was cold and she was covering him. That wouldn’t be a lie. Her hand twitched…
He grabbed her wrist.
She jumped and let out a small scream.
“Shit! You scared me.”
He’d turned over but still held her. His chest, with a narrow line of hair disappearing into his unbuttoned jeans, made her mouth go dry.
“It’s cold. The quilt fell off,” she stammered.
He stared at her, a small smile in the corner of his mouth.