Mina had been right when she said Failie would never go for a system that didn’t allow them to vote for the council member who represented them. Normally, less than ten percent of those eligible voted. The previous weekend nearly fifty percent of Failie residents had lined up to show Daley what they thought of his arrogance. It was unprecedented. Forbes’ win hadn’t just been a landslide, it had been an avalanche. He hoped his father looked on from wherever he had ended up. The wastrel had achieved the one thing that had eluded the man who’d ruled him with an iron fist and no velvet glove.
Forbes stretched his neck to search the crowd of well-wishers. He could barely see over Clarke’s shoulder.
‘Valerie Smith ain’t here.’ Clarke gave him a knowing wink. ‘Mike took her off somewhere cool.’
Forbes kept smiling. Clarke was officially a developer, but he was stiff competition for Gwen O’Connor when it came to gossip. He liked to pretend he was looking after his business interests. He wasn’t fooling anyone.
‘I’m looking for Mina,’ Forbes said.
He’d never been so relieved as when Linc called him to say she was safe, no thanks to the two of them. He’d got the best lawyer he knew, but due to Daley he hadn’t been at the station to hold her hand or reassure her. Since then they’d rarely spoken. When they did, he could hear the eggshells under his feet.
‘You’re better off without her, mate. What with all her antics lately, you’re lucky she didn’t trip you with that rug she pulled out from under herself. Good you kept your distance while all that was happening.’
‘That girl should be hailed as a hero. Not me.’
‘Hero?’ Clarke’s eyes glittered with anticipation.
‘Where the hell is Baldwin?’ Forbes looked at the bruised sky with concern. ‘He’s supposed to be going over the final details with the sound guys. At this rate, that storm is going to hit before I utter a word of my speech.’
‘Haven’t seen him, mate.’ Clarke looked at him sideways. ‘What did you mean, “Mina Everton is a hero”? And as she’s of the female persuasion, shouldn’t that be “heroine”?’
Forbes saw no reason not to throw Clarke a bone. ‘She put herself in danger to get Drummond the information he needed. They’re going to lock that Carlson creep up for good, largely due to her bravery.’
Clarke laughed and slapped his shoulder. ‘You gotta start acting like a pollie, Forbes. Take the credit. You brought that Drummond bloke in to crack the case. He cracked it, therefore you’re the local hero.’
‘Mina should be getting some credit.’
Thunder rattled the sky, uniting the crowd in a group murmur of concern.
‘You know this town, mate,’ Clarke said. ‘You go off the rails once and they don’t let you forget it. That girl’s got a lot of baggage, what with Jacko and her nutty mother. It’s probably a good thing she’s leaving town.’
Leaving Failie? That couldn’t be true. Yes, she’d thought about running before, but now things were different, and no matter how angry she was with him, she wouldn’t leave without telling him.
‘You’re way off on that one, Ronny.’
‘It’s true, mate. She’s got herself a real estate agent. Real shark. I’ve already upped my offer. Her leaving is the best thing for everyone.’
§
The blonde struggled all the way down the backyard. If Carlson had realised it was such a deep property—the place didn’t look much from the front—he would have done her inside. Maybe in her bedroom, like he’d promised. But they were committed now.
A bright flash lit the sky and illuminated the snarl on Tiny’s face. There wasn’t much that riled his second in charge, but this girl was getting him hot under the collar. He was doing his best, but the chick had on some kind of boots with heels that dug into the patchy grass making it hard for Tiny to move her. He’d tried carrying her, but she kicked and wriggled, and when she landed a good one on his gonads, Tiny got behind her and pulled her bound hands up until she squealed.
‘Boss, I’m gonna snap her fuckin’ neck.’
‘You’re not. I want her fully aware when I start peeling off her skin.’
The blonde’s scream was muffled by the packing tape stretched across her mouth. Thunder vibrated through the sky. A dog set to barking. It sounded close. Weird that. He’d had Tiny do a quick recon before they entered her house, but he hadn’t mentioned seeing no dog.
‘Go shut that mutt up.’ Slab shoved his thick forearm around the girl’s neck and pulled her back against him. He felt her hands pressed to his crotch and rubbed himself against her just to see her squirm.
‘Watch those boots, boss. They hurt.’
‘I ain’t that dumb.’
Tiny limped across the yard toward the rotting fence. Another burst of lightning gashed the sky. Thunder chased its heels. Carlson’s knife opened with a satisfying snick. He touched it to her side, just enough to remind her of the last time they’d met.
‘Feel that, don’t you?’ He whispered against her ear and felt her tears on his cheek. ‘I can slide it in nice and easy. Won’t kill you. It’ll just slow you down. Set you up nice for what I’m gonna do to you.’
Beneath her gag, she yelled and tried to pull away.
‘You’ll get your chance. Like I said, it’s good practice.’
Tiny returned, shaking his head. ‘I checked everywhere, boss. Can’t see no dog.’
‘Well, it must have seen you and shit itself.’
The mutt had gone quiet, maybe frightened by the crash and rumble of the storm. Whatever the problem, it shut the stupid mongrel up.
He thrust the blonde forward, watched her stumble, saw the hesitation before she figured she could make a run for it. He always let them think they could run. Nothing like a bit of hope to keep them fighting.
The Everton chick dashed away. Tiny lunged. Made her dance left then right until she was all turned around. Lightning ripped the sky. For a brief second, they were spotlit like actors on a stage. He saw her narrowed eyes, the jerk of her arms as she tugged at the ties around her hands. Rain began to pelt the patchy grass. Thunder rattled the fence. Beneath his feet, the ground trembled, just like the beat of her terrified little heart.
Excitement ripped through him and burst from his chest in gleeful laughter. Times like this, money didn’t even matter. He fancied doing her to the flash of lightning.
She went for it, running at him like a bull, heading for the driveway. Water splashed at her ankles. The yard was getting nice and slippery. He waited until she tried to barrel him aside, then grabbed her sopping ponytail and yanked her backward. Her feet slipped on the muddy ground and she fell against his shoulder, breathing hard through her nose and making a weird noise in her throat.
‘Too bad, babe. You blew it.’
She grunted and wriggled and twisted against his iron grip while he took stock of the shed. Crooked walls of crumbling mortar and odd-shaped stones that looked like they were stained with rust. Maybe they were. The tin roof was brown with the stuff.
Tiny wrestled with the door. When he finally got it moving, it screeched across the concrete floor. The storm swallowed the noise.
‘Christ, boss. It reeks in here.’
The place stank all right, like slag in the hot sun, and beneath that was the stench of his childhood—grime, decay, hopelessness. It threatened to suck him under, turn him back into that gutless runt running for his life down that dirt road.
Sheet lightning danced across the yard and illuminated the mess inside the shed. He made out a workbench fitted along the length of the back wall. Above it was one of those old boards with hooks and outlines, a few rusted tools still in place. A fireplace dominated the southern corner, though what it was doing in a shed like this he had no idea. Battered clay bricks fitted up against the stone chimney like they’d been welded together. When the growl of thunder rolled overhead, dust cascaded from the crumbling mortar. Rain dolloped then pummelled the roof.
‘Boss?’ Tiny had t
o raise his voice against the din.
The girl was almost as hard to keep hold of as Candii when she was oiled for the stage. Anytime now Drummond and his mates would discover he and Tiny had escaped, and he owed this bitch some payback.
A crack overhead. The shed lit up like fireworks night. Jutting from the wall at the far end was a massive slab of dark timber. Could be a broken beam, or maybe they’d used it to hoist stuff. Who cared? It was perfect.
‘Find something and string her up.
‘Sure, boss.’
Tiny scrounged through the rubbish for something useful while rain beat like hailstones against the tin roof. The girl stood with her head hanging. After a few minutes, Tiny heaved up a couple of meters of heavy-duty chain. Swinging on the end was a hook as big and solid as his head.
Tiny yelled over the rain, ‘Seems like this’ll do the job.’
‘Beautiful.’
The girl whimpered and resumed her struggle. Excitement shot through him like an electric charge. He ordered Tiny to sling the chain over the jutting timber beam then haul her up by her hands.
‘That should keep her temper in check,’ he said.
‘It’s not her hands I’m worried about.’
‘Then get her boots off first. Or find something heavy to tie to her legs. That ought to slow down her kicking.’
She yelled something that was lost beneath the packing tape, and ground her heel into Slab’s foot. It felt like his toes had been lopped off. He shoved her toward Tiny. She made a dash for the door as the storm hit. Wind howled through cracks in the walls. Rain came in the door and through the rusted roof. A lightshow pulsed in time with rippling thunder. The sooner they got this bitch strung up, the better.
He limped toward her. ‘Time you got a taste of your own medicine, bitch.’
She ran toward the workbench while he and Tiny came at her from either side. Her eyes darted back and forth. Her arms yanked against her bonds. She wasn’t going to have any luck there because Tiny always made them good and tight, though this time they’d had to improvise with a curtain tie from her lounge room.
Tiny blocked her path and Slab inched toward her, stalking her, forcing her deeper into the shed. Soon she’d be wedged up against the workbench.
‘I’m gonna start with a kick between your legs,’ he told her. ‘Not that the pain will be anywhere close to what you gave me. Then I’m gonna break your nose.’ He was toe to toe with her now. Her eyes were full of that mix of hatred and horror that he loved. ‘Then I’m gonna cut you up. Starting with your—’
From behind him came a gut-churning shriek.
Slab whirled toward the sound. A massive dog with silvery fur had Tiny on his back, his huge jaw clamped around Tiny’s thick neck.
‘Tiny!’
The solid heel of a boot connected with his tailbone. He stumbled into the middle of the shed, halfway between the blonde and the dog. The animal snarled though he still held Tiny locked between his jaws. Lightning flashed. The dog’s ghostly eyes seemed to burn into his as it stared at him. For the first time in his adult life, ice gripped his backbone.
Tiny tried to lift his arms. The dog’s jaw tightened. Wet choking erupted from the big Maori, but he got his hands around the beast’s neck. Carlson turned back to the girl. Tiny could take care of himself.
He picked up the chain and hook from where it had fallen. It weighed a bit, even for him. He swung the hook, testing the strength of the chain. It’d do just fine.
Slab faced the little blonde who’d given him so much trouble. She was trying hard to get her hands free but was still trussed like a pig ready for spit-roasting, her tongue quiet behind the packing-tape gag. He liked her better that way.
With the bulk of the chain in his left hand, he whirled the hook with his right as he moved toward her. Her eyes were massive as she worked to free herself.
He lashed out, letting the hook fly at her head. She dodged it, but slipped on the grimy floor and tumbled to the ground. The hook smacked against the filthy concrete just inches from her feet. It raised a dense cloud of dust and concrete chips, and snaked through the muck as he dragged it back. She got to her knees. Tried to stand. Beneath her t-shirt, her chest rose and fell. He worked the hook until it oscillated above his head, relished the solid whir as it cut the air and mingled with the storm’s violence.
The dog’s snarl changed, became a growl. Louder now. Closer.
With the intuition that had saved him many times before, Slab turned on his heel and let the hook fly just as the dog leapt for him. The hook caught the animal’s ribs. The dog yelped. Dropped to the ground. Slab gathered up the chain and stood over the mutt. Its chest heaved faster than the blonde’s. Its breathing whistled in its throat. He lifted the hook. One good crack on the skull and the pest with the crazy eyes would be history.
Pain burst through his shoulder. Whatever had hit him clanged to the floor. A wrench, as long as his forearm and almost as thick. Bitch had got her hands free.
He turned on her, swinging the hook, building momentum though the pain in his shoulder was like a burst of electric current ripping through his torso. A spanner, smaller and lighter, glanced off his cheek. He advanced on her, ignoring his pain, swinging his hook.
He was through playing. Time to finish this bitch.
More spanners came his way. Her aim was lousy. She was so busy searching for a decent weapon she was hardly looking where she threw them. She’d exhausted the tools hanging from nails against the back wall and was scrambling for something to use when he let the hook fly.
It barely missed her. Took a bite out of the inch-thick timber of the workbench. She ran toward the fireplace, hunting among the junk on the workbench as she went.
Despite his pain, he felt like a gladiator in the arena. He barely had to move while she ran around the shed looking for weapons. There was nothing that could beat what he had. One good whack of that hook and she’d be mush.
He swung again. It hit the bricked-up fireplace with a boom that shook the roof timbers. Mortar and chunks of brick hailed down. He hauled the hook back as fast as he could, hand-over-hand on the chain.
She ripped off the packing tape. ‘You’re pathetic. Big hero, going after girls and dogs. I bet Tiny’s the brains behind the operation too.’
He let the hook fly. She threw herself sideways, more agile now she had the use of her hands and lungs. Once more, the hook slammed against the fireplace. A lump of mortared bricks fell to the ground, debris flinging across the space. She cried out. Put her hand to her face. Her fingers came away red with blood.
Slab laughed at the gash. ‘Too bad. But you don’t have to worry about scars where you’re going.’
He tugged the hook back. It didn’t move. She had her legs and one skinny arm wrapped around it.
‘Are you kidding me?’ He laughed and hauled on the chain.
With her dead weight on the end, it was harder going than he’d thought, but he dragged her toward him, inch by inch. Tiny and the dog were silent. He would pull her close enough to get his hands on her and that would be it.
§
‘Make sure you stick to your curfew,’ Linc told Dunny as they stood on the station steps.
‘What’s it to you?’ The boy glared through the hair whipping around his face.
‘I don’t want to have to arrest you.’
‘Won’t be you, will it? Everyone knows you’re itching to get outta here.’
Carlson and Tiny were on their way to a pre-trial hearing, the gang rounded up. Once he had the trial date, he could get on with his life. It was over. At the hotel, his bag was packed and waiting. Three weeks ago, the sun had scorched everything it touched, and he had been determined to wrap up the case and get back to Sydney as soon as possible. Now thunder rattled the earth, drifts of rain darkened the distance, and the only place he wanted to be was with Mina.
‘Don’t go harassing Mina Everton or I’ll make sure she gets a restraining order against you.’
�
��I was looking out for her, wasn’t I? You cops weren’t doing nothing for her. Had to scare that council dude out of her bushes more than once.’
Did he mean Forbes? Why would he hide in her bushes? ‘What council dude?’
‘You figure it out.’
Dunny flipped him off and walked. He was spoiling for a fight, which was what had landed him in trouble in the first place. If it weren’t for the fact that Wainright was now under internal investigation, Dunny would probably be warming a cell in Yatala.
The boy’s temper had been brewing since they’d sat in the morgue together, Dunny playing with his home detention ankle bracelet and trying not to cry. It can’t have been easy for him. He’d identified the grey remains of the unidentified male pulled from the river as his mate Kegs. Driven by fury and grief, and with Carlson safely locked up, the boy had told him everything he knew about the robberies, including his misguided passion for Mina and his guilt about tattling to Carlson about her night with Linc. But he’d denied attacking her. And he denied any knowledge of the girl stuffed into an industrial black plastic bag found near Kegs’ body. That line of investigation was still open.
A flash of lightning brightened the horizon closely followed by thunder grumbling like some great creature waking from slumber. Along the street, Dunny stopped to pat a big husky that sat on the corner like it was waiting for someone.
Mina had said her dog was a husky. Could it be Spirit? Probably just wishful thinking. He’d had no luck finding her dog. Just like he’d had no luck when he’d tried to tell her he didn’t want to go back to Sydney, that he didn’t give a damn about his stupid career, that life was nothing without her. Embarrassed by Forbes’ presence, tongue-tied by the fear she’d reject him, he’d kept silent, willing her to ask him to stay. She’d just looked at him with those beautiful eyes he couldn’t read while Forbes draped his arm around her stiff shoulders. His only satisfaction was when she shrugged herself free of Forbes.
There was nothing for him here. He’d have to come back to give evidence. That was all.
‘Lincoln?’ Stella appeared in the entrance behind him.
Pieces of a Lie Page 32