by Maree, Kay
“Well, when I checked him out in the system he had a warrant out for his arrest.”
“Well, that motherfucker is a piece of shit, it doesn’t surprise me.”
“The thing is, it’s not an old warrant. It just came through.”
“Just spit it the fuck out,” I bark the whole bar going quiet at my outburst.
The only noise is the music coming from the jukebox.
“It’s for murder.”
“What?” I choke “Who?”
“A woman named Janice Wallace,” he blows out a deep breath, I see the strain around his eyes. “And a baby,” he finally chokes out.
That sucker punches me in the chest as sweat begins to form across my brow.
“I need to get Cora and get her home because if this fucker comes near her Jebson I will fucking bury him,” I grate out storming towards the bathrooms.
Needing my woman in my arms.
I ignore my father's shout as I push the door open leading towards a small hallway, pushing the female bathroom door open.
“Cora,” I call out, but deep down I know something is off.
When she doesn’t reply I push the stall doors open not giving a fuck just needing to find her.
“Sonofabitch,” I growl, coming up empty.
Rushing out of the small hallway, I punch through the door.
Storming back into the main bar, scanning my eyes around the room, but she isn’t here.
Turning, I head back down the hallway, and that’s when I see it.
The back door is slightly ajar.
Rushing out I push the door open hard enough it bangs against the building echoing around me but the camping area looks deserted only a few tents spot the area but no lanterns are on.
“Fuck,” I shout.
“Son,” my father’s worried voice reaches my ears.
“She’s gone,” I blurt, bending at the waist.
Slamming my hands against my knees trying to breathe through the tightness in my chest and that’s when I see her hat laying on the ground.
Snatching it up, I try to dust it off with a shaky hand.
“We will find her Son,” he rushes out before shouting can be heard behind me.
“Nash, we will find her,” Jebson comes to my side.
“We got this, Nash,” Lucas says.
I zone out, trying to search through the darkness for anything that could be out of place as Jebson rattles off instructions into his handheld radio.
“Mum take this,” I hand Cora's hat over and try to block out her worried look cause if she lets one of those tears fall from her glassy eyes it will gut me even more.
“Got it, son, now find our girl,” she says in a hoarse whisper and all I can do is nod.
“Here,” Lucas slaps a torch in my hand.
“We will start the search over there,” he points to an area that's the darkest in the lot and all I can do is nod as I try to breathe through the pain scorching through me.
“We will find her,” he grunts as we race into the bush.
But all I keep thinking is, will we be too late?
If we are, I'm gonna make this piece of shit pay for every mark on her body.
Prison ain’t gonna need to save him a cell because I’ll take pleasure in putting him in the ground piece by mother fucking piece.
I was lost in the dark, cruising through a life I thought was meant to be mine, but Cora showed me what I really want in this life.
Now she is lost, broken all over again and fuck if I won’t save her and put her back together again.
“Time to wake up bitch.”
My head feels woozy as my stomach churns.
A sharp kick to my shin has my eyes snapping open.
I whimper behind the duct tape sealed over my mouth as a stinging sensation runs up and down my leg.
“There,” he grunts.
“Bout fucking time,” he mutters, pacing under a single bare bulb hanging down from what looks like an old rotting roof.
The scent of dirty wet socks reaches my nose as I scan my eyes around the room, realizing we are in an old abandoned barn.
I try to move, but my hands and feet are strapped down to a wooden chair.
Every time I shift my weight splintered wood digs through my jeans and shirt causing tiny stingy pinpricks across my body.
“So obedient, why you thought I would ever let you go is beyond me,” he whispers, staring into my eyes.
His are so wild ice runs through me at the dead look staring back at me.
He slams his mouth over my covered mouth, gripping my hair and pulling hard enough my eyes begin to water.
“We are gonna have some fun,” he cackles running his fingers down my neck, across the dip in my shirt, making my skin crawl.
I squint my eyes against the slow swing of the light above.
A whimper gets lodged in my throat when I feel warm liquid slowly begin to trickle down the side of my face that I can only assume is blood.
A war rages inside me, conflicting emotions about to spiral out of control, and no matter how hard I try to push them to the back of my mind, it doesn't work.
They keep churning, bubbling just under the skin, waiting for the moment they explode. Everything I ever felt in my life was boiling down to this one moment in time, and I wished like hell Nash was here to hold me and tell me everything was going to be alright.
Instead, it's Patrick standing there with a twisted look of mixed emotions, throwing me off-kilter and wondering not for the first time why he is here.
"All that time spent together, and you thought by signing a piece of paper that what? it would magically get rid of me," he cackles and the sound pushes through me, chills cut down my spine.
“Will you be a good girl if I take this off?” he pulls the edge of the tape, making me flinch as it pulls against my skin.
Closing my eyes as my head begins to pound, lowering my chin to my chest.
I try to breathe through my nose.
“Nod your damn head little bitch,” he bites out, gripping my chin between his fingers, squeezing hard, he lifts my face, making me whimper.
Nodding the best I can in the vice-like grip.
Without waiting, he rips the tape from my mouth, pulling a scream from me.
“Such a beautiful sound,” he coos.
Before I have a chance to catch my breath, he jams the rim of a glass bottle into my mouth.
The glass cracking against my teeth, sending a prick of pain across my jaw.
The taste of burning vodka slides down my throat.
I try to spit out as much as possible, but it’s no use, as he keeps pouring, my mouth overflows.
I try to push the bottle out with my tongue.
The liquid begins to slide down my chin, covering my chest, but he just grabs my chin harder.
“Drink bitch we are going to have some fun tonight before we head back to Newcastle.”
“I don’t understand what you want from me?” I gasp trying to catch my breath, my throat burning as the remaining vodka in my mouth sprays out, my tongue flicks across my lip wincing when I feel the cut there.
My stomach rolls as the metallic taste of blood coats my tongue.
“What I want,” he laughs.
“What I want is to get your ass back home.”
“What home? You took everything from me, you piece of shit. You are the one that belongs in the gutter,” I spit out.
Anger bubbling just under the skin.
My head swirls from the alcohol, but I try to push it away, needing to get my senses back.
I have never spoken to him like this before I was always too afraid, wanting to keep the peace not wanting to rock the already sinking boat I was balancing on, but fuck it feels good.
Nash has shown me in just under a week what a survivor I really am, and I will keep fighting till I see him again.
“Poor Cora, she's had such a hard life,”
he mocks.
“What about other people in your pity party, what about me?” he slams a hand over his chest, throwing the bottle to the ground.
It shatters at my feet.
I bite off a cry when some of the glass shards hit me in the legs.
Forgetting about the small bites of pain as I feel warm blood slide down my legs.
I try to take him in from head to toe, realizing how dishevelled he really is.
His light brown hair is a mess, his eyes look sunken into his face and his natural complexion is a pasty white instead of his normal light tan and his clothes are wrinkled and stained.
His once shiny shoes are scuffed to all buggery.
“You took everything from me,” he spits out with so much venom coating his words.
The hair on my arms stands on end.
“You think you get to walk away without paying off a life debt.”
“What?” I’m so confused, my head spins trying to keep up with him or it could be the vodka.
Each word is fired off at rapid speed and I'm struggling to keep up.
“You took something from me 8 years ago that you can never repay. Keeping you locked away from everyone was starting to work until you saw Janice and me together. Yeah, I fucked up I should have had you on lockdown from the beginning. That way everything would have remained as it should and I never would have had to do what I did,” he sneers, finally stopping right in front of me.
Swallowing, I try to find my voice as an uneasy feeling settles deep in my bones.
“Janice won’t be an issue anymore,” he murmurs as if speaking to himself.
“All I have to do is get you the fuck out of this shit-hole town and back where you belong and under me, you will learn once again where your place is.”
He’s nodding as if he has just come up with the best idea ever.
What the ever-loving fuck is happening right now, I wonder, biting into my bottom lip, hoping I can wake up from this nightmare.
I cry out as my teeth find the cut on my lip, making him cackle like a loon.
“I ain’t going anywhere with you. You piece of shit,” I spit with as much strength in my voice as I can muster.
Straddling my legs, I grunt against his weight, pressing me down into the splintered chair. Ripping off another piece of tape from the roll in his hand, the roll drops to the ground with a low thud before slapping the piece he ripped off over my mouth.
He frames my face with both hands, squeezing my cheeks together so tight, making my eyes water, slamming his mouth down over my covered lips.
“I was going to spend the remainder of the time here playing with you, cause god knows how much I have missed the sweet sound of your screams but I think getting you home would be better, nobody there to hear you screaming,” he laughs.
Running a rough hand through my hair before gripping the strands in a tight fist, wincing at the hold, he leans into me, his cheek touching mine.
His alcohol-laden breath makes my nose wrinkle and my stomach turns over again.
“I’m gonna make you bleed,” my eyes widened and I should have known it was coming, but quicker than I can blink he hits me against my temple with something hard.
My head swirls and darkness begins creeping in, overtaking my vision, and I can’t hold on much longer. My eyelids droop, as his hyena laugh follows me under.
I wake with a jolt.
My hands are now tied behind my back, my legs still taped around my ankles.
He is dragging me out of the barn towards a set of headlights shining in my eyes.
I moan against the new piece of tape across my mouth as the gravel driveway digs into my bare feet.
“We are gonna take a little drive,” he chuckles.
“I had to ditch my car since you decided to call the cops on me, so this will have to do.” I try to fight him off, but being restrained makes it nearly impossible, and he quickly gets the upper hand again.
“I love it when you fight me,” he says.
I ignore him as I try to take in my surroundings, but everything is cast in deep shadows from the light glow of dusk.
With the thick mist of fog surrounding us, the whole atmosphere has an eerie feeling running through me.
My body is trembling as we make it to the back door of an old white four-wheel-drive. Orange/brown mud splashes around the wheel wells and spots of chipped paint that have slowly started to rust stand out.
As he pulls the door open, gripping me around the waist, his fingers biting into my waist as he drags me forward, shoving me onto the worn carpeted flooring.
I groan as my head bounces off the metal that’s worn through.
My shoulder jars from hitting the long bench seat.
Wiggling so my head hits the door on the other side of the car, I bring my feet up the best I can as Patrick slams the door closed.
I whimper as the door connects with the soles of my feet.
Pain ricochets straight through me, gritting my teeth.
I try to breathe through my nose as I hear the driver’s side door open.
I wince as the door slams shut.
“Be a good girl, otherwise I will knock you the fuck out,” he grunts, kicking the engine over.
The radio blasts to life with an old country song, cringing when Patrick starts to sing off-beat as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.
Closing my eyes, I try to concentrate on the hum of the engine as I twist my wrists trying to stretch the tape binding them together, but it’s no use, there is just no give.
I pause as the sounds of sirens ring out around us, blowing out a deep breath through my nose, hoping this will be the end of it.
“Make a single noise and you will regret it,” he spits out, tossing a scratchy blanket over me as he slowly pulls the car over to the side of the road.
Steading my breathing as the engine idles, the music lowers.
“Good morning officer,” his voice comes out too formal for the way he looks.
“Do you realize you have a taillight out sir?” the officer asks in a no-bullshit way.
“Oh, shit no. This is my mate's car, he let me borrow it.”
“Can I see your driver’s license, sir?”
“Sure.”
My heart stutters in my chest, realizing this officer has no clue I am here.
I hear the glove box click open.
Tears gather in my eyes and begin to run unchecked down my cheeks.
Bang.
The blast echoes around the interior of the car jolting me out of my head, a muffled scream rips up my throat and I try to breathe through my nose.
“Fucker,” Patrick grunts as heavy metal hits glass bottles in the seat in front of me, tyres screech and the car jolts forward.
Oh, God!
He just shot that police officer.
I’m struggling to breathe through my nose, my body trembles and the tears come faster now.
I am totally fucked.
Any chance of Nash finding me now has long since gone.
Closing my eyes, I say goodbye to the new life I pictured building with Nash as my new reality starts to set in…
I haven’t slept all night.
My eyes are itchy, stinging like a bitch.
My muscles ache and my stomach twists when the scent of bacon and eggs reaches me.
Mum slides a plate in front of Jebson, Lucas, Dad and myself as we sit along the bar at Steel Mare, which mum declared was now the base of operations.
“Any luck?” Mum asks Earl and Buddy as they take a seat near us, just getting back from driving around the last couple of hours looking for any sign of Cora.
Their tired weathered faces giveaway their answer before they can even speak.
Blowing out a rough breath, I run my hands down my face, feeling exhaustion weighing heavy on my shoulders.
Gritting my teeth, I pick up my coffee and drain the contents, needing t
he hit of caffeine.
Pushing the plate away without touching any of it.
I stretch out my back, shaking out my limbs, ready to get back on the road.
It's nearing 6 am and sitting here is wasting time. I could be out looking for her.
They could already be back in Newcastle for all I know. Pulling Cora’s phone from my pocket.
I double-check Sophie hadn't called back with an update and I just didn’t hear it ring.
I called her when we got back from our search through the wooded surroundings of the pub, worried he was already on his way to Newcastle.
Sophie promised me she would let me know if they turned up there.
Palming the phone, I flick it on, noticing a text from fifteen minutes ago.
I go to put the phone back in my pocket when it beeps again in my hand.
I rub my knuckles over the sharp pain in my chest as my heart squeezes as if it’s stuck in a vice.
I try to breathe through it, but it’s no use.
It just seems to get worse with every breath I take.
“Son,” Dad calls out.
I just wave my hand, not wanting to speak right now.
Every second Cora is away from me, the pain gets worse.
I can only imagine what that sick fuck has done to my girl over the last ten hours.
My head snaps up as the glass front doors push open and in walks Officer Liam Drixen, one of Jebsons men, he has a manilla file in his hands.
"What have you got for me?" Jebson barks out.
"I did a wide search on Patrick Jones as you asked. You wouldn't believe the shitshow I found," he gruffs, handing the thick file over.
Jebson flips through page after page of petty crimes.
"I asked you to get the Information on Patrick Jones not" he pauses reading the name on some of the slips of paper, "Patrick Stewart." He huffs throwing half the paperwork onto the bar.
"It's the same fucker, Boss," Drixen pipes up.
"Like I said, it's a fucking shitshow." He shakes his head.
"8 years ago he started using an alias, I contacted Newcastle Police station and spoke with the lead detective that's been assigned to the double murder case of Janice Wallace and her 9-day old baby.”