Blood Feud (Little Town)

by JD Nixon

  My heart thumped so loudly I thought it would burst through my chest. I was torn. On one hand, as a woman, I wanted to find nothing and learn later that the young woman had made it safely home without being molested in any way, even if that meant Red Bycraft had escaped once again. On the other hand, as a cop, I badly wanted to catch him. I hungered for it so much it was almost a burning physical pain.

  We moved carefully through the south bay parklands, ears and eyes straining through the dimness for anything that didn’t seem right. The dark lighting and gentle wash of the water on the sand didn’t quite mask the movement and sound of dodgy activities in the shadows. The Sarge and I conferred over these and decided to ignore anything we noticed tonight. We agreed we were in no position to arrest any drug dealers or prostitutes, having no weapons, no backup, and no police vehicle. We had to disregard everything except our current focus – Red Bycraft.

  The lower part of South Bay Park, where the boatsheds were located, had been left as a ‘nature reserve’. That was the local Council’s euphemism for a parcel of public land abandoned to the wilderness due to a lack of money available to develop the park any further. The bushland also served the purpose of mostly shielding the old boatsheds from view, making it even more of an attractive location for the seedy side of business in Big Town. So it took a while of picking through the park before the jagged silhouettes of the rotting boatsheds came into view through the increasingly dense vegetation.

  We approached the derelict buildings slowly, both wishing we had our guns with us. The Sarge had, as usual, tried to push his way to the front, but I hissed at him that I knew the buildings better than him so it made sense for me to lead us in.

  In truth though, I was almost as unfamiliar with the buildings as he was. The only time I’d been inside them was as a twelve-year-old in the company of the seven children of Dad’s best mate. After an unsuccessful day of fishing, our two families had settled instead for a fish and chip dinner from The Salty Seagull’s predecessor, eaten in the main bay parklands. Afterwards, we kids had sneaked off while the adults were busy doing boring adult things like talking. Disregarding our parents’ warnings about not going further than the end of the main parklands, we’d dared each other further and further into South Bay Park until we’d reached the old boatsheds. Even then they’d been dilapidated and widely known as a place to avoid.

  The other children, who lived in Big Town, had tried to scare me with stories about the old boatsheds for years. They ganged up, double-daring me to go inside by myself. Always out-numbered, and not willing to let them have a win over me, I’d stuck my chin in the air and marched inside, my hand resting on my knife.

  I can still remember the feeling I’d had entering that derelict, unsafe building alone. I’d stood at the doorway and turned back to the others, all lounging a safe fifty metres away.

  “You have to go inside. You have to bring us back a souvenir,” had shouted Felix, the oldest, an obnoxious boy who grew up to be an obnoxious man.

  My heart pounding, I’d stepped inside the first cavernous shed, half its roof missing so the sunlight spilled in generously, throwing light into every dark corner. It’s not so bad, I’d told myself, looking around for something that hadn’t already been pillaged or trophied. The first shed was completely stripped bare, nothing but rubbish left strewn around its cracked cement floor.

  The doorway to the adjoining shed yawned open, the door itself long gone. The roof was in better repair in that shed, so the space was inkier, shadows lurking in every corner. I’d hesitated at the doorway, scanning the shed with uncertainty. The place smelt of urine and salty, rotting timber. Scuttles of tiny paws sounded from the depths of the room, not enticing me to advance further.

  A man sprang out and grabbed my arm. I’d shrieked in fear, pulling out my knife.

  “Give me your money,” rasped an old smoker’s voice. He was shabby and dirty, his trousers stained and ripped, his shirt sweat-stained and misbuttoned. He’d not shaved for a while, and his white beard was straggly and sparse. Several of his front teeth were missing and he smelt bad.

  “I don’t have any money,” I’d told him, sounding braver than I’d felt. “I’m just a kid.” And I’d kicked him in the shin, pulling my arm free from his feeble grasp. He’d been lucky I hadn’t stabbed him with the knife Dad had only entrusted me with wearing a year before. I’d turned tail and fled, hurriedly picking up an empty softdrink can from the rubbish in the first shed as I did.

  When I’d broken free of the sheds, I’d thrown that can straight at Felix.

  “Here’s your stupid souvenir,” I’d shouted at him angrily, my heart still galloping. It had hit him in the forehead, causing a gash that bled copiously and which he milked for every drop of sympathy from the adults for the rest of the day. That little action earned me stiff angry rebukes from Dad and a horribly embarrassed Nana Fuller, a humiliating sullen and insincere public apology to a gloating Felix, and a TV ban for an entire week.

  Those feelings washed over me again as we approached the sheds, but were driven away the second we heard a strangled scream from a woman from inside.

  Chapter 30

  The meagre lighting thrown by the street lamps forced us to pick our way with frustrating carefulness through the greenery to the rotting timber hulk of the sheds. Sounds of a woman weeping and another choked-off scream carried in the night air.

  I pulled Kieran to the side. “You stay here and don’t move,” I ordered. “I mean it.”

  “I’m not staying out here by myself,” he shot back in a fierce whisper. “It’s dark. I want to go home.”

  “Good, go home,” said the Sarge. “This isn’t a situation for kids.”

  “You’re not leaving me here,” Kieran insisted, and I detected a hint of fear in his voice. I couldn’t blame him. This was no place to be abandoning a sixteen-year-old to defend himself.

  “I don’t think we can leave him, Sarge. We have a duty of care.”

  The Sarge rebuked me in a low voice. “Duty of care? Maybe you should have thought of that before you let him tag along with you. If you think the Super ripped you a new one when you took Kevin to a crime scene, how the hell do you think she’s going to react when she finds out you’ve brought a civilian teenager with you this time?”

  “I didn’t bring him. He just sort of followed me. But we can’t leave him by himself now. It’s not safe around here.”

  “Jesus, Tess,” he muttered, moving over to Kieran. “Look kid, you can’t come inside with us. We don’t know what we’re going to find. So just wait here at the door and hopefully we won’t be long.”

  He pushed ahead of me, cautiously approaching the gaping doorway to the first shed. Another scream resounded from inside, followed by indistinct talking, one voice pleading in tone, the other angry.

  Feeble light streaked across the concrete floor through gaping holes in the roof. From the doorway, we scanned the gloomy depths of the first shed. Nothing moved inside. I kept my hand on my sheath, ready to whip out my knife in a second, but wishing I had my Glock with me. The Sarge silently pointed to the doorway leading into the second shed and I nodded to show him I understood. We crept across the first shed, trying to avoid stepping on or kicking any of the detritus littering the floor. We flanked the doorway, listening intently.

  Though we could hear voices, we weren’t close enough to determine what was being said. Not until a begging, sobbing voice raised itself, “Please don’t. Please let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone.” That plea was followed by a loud slapping sound and jagged crying.

  The Sarge pointed a couple of times towards the doorway to the third shed. We edged over towards it. Visibility inside the second shed was poor, the street lighting barely penetrating the greenery that virtually formed a canopy over the skeleton framework of the crumbling roof. I stumbled over the edge of an old mattress, barely managing to right myself before I crashed to the ground. The Sarge glared back at me in annoyance and we stood still,
waiting for any sign we’d been noticed.

  Instead we heard a sickening thud and low groans of sobbing pain. My stomach lurched. The Sarge gestured to continue and we inched towards the doorway.

  An enraged, cruel voice spoke from within the darkness of the third shed. “I told you to shut the fuck up. You’re just making it worse for yourself.”

  It was Red. Our anonymous tipster hadn’t let us down.

  A woman’s shriek pierced the gloom and he spoke again, “Get back on your knees, bitch. And keep that mouth open.”

  A loud yelp of agony was swiftly followed by the sound of someone scrabbling towards us, crying.

  “Get back here!” yelled Red.

  A half-dressed woman, hysterical and bleeding, flew through the doorway. As soon as she saw the Sarge, she flung herself on his reassuring bulk.

  “Oh God, help me. Please. Please help me. There’s a man in there . . .”

  She clung to him tightly as he tried to soothe her and calm her down. While he attempted to simultaneously assure her of her safety and extricate himself from her barnacle-like grip, I crept into the third shed without him. I spotted a figure fleeing through the doorway into the fourth shed.

  Not wasting my breath on directing him to stop, I sprinted after him, almost tripping again on the rubbish strewn over the floor. Lighting in the third shed was patchy, illuminating sections where roofing metal was missing, leaving other parts in complete darkness.

  I hesitated at the doorway to the fourth shed. It was so dark inside, the structure almost swallowed up by the invading vegetation. I held my breath, listening for any indication of whether Red was still inside or whether he’d escaped to the fifth shed.

  “Congratulations. You found me, Tessie,” said an amused voice to my right.

  Somehow I suppressed my squeal of fright. “Give yourself up, Red. This game’s over.”

  “Screw you. I’m not going back to jail.”

  “Yes, you are. That woman you just attacked is going to help that happen.”

  “Don’t know what you mean. We were having consensual sex. If she says differently, she’s a lying bitch.”

  “Sure it was consensual. That’s why she was screaming.”

  “What can I say? I’m a great fuck. I guarantee I’d make you scream too.”

  “You’ll be the one screaming if you lay one hand on me.”

  “How about two hands?”

  He pounced on me, knocking the knife out of my hand, and pinning my arms to my side before I had a chance to react. Furious for letting myself be so badly distracted by his taunting, I struggled in his hold. But he drew me up tight against his body, wrapping his arms around my torso, immobilising me.

  “That was too easy. You’re losing your touch,” he laughed, his breath tickling my ear. I thrashed around fiercely to no avail. He crushed me to him.

  “The Sarge is here with me.”

  “I don’t care. Let’s just enjoy this moment together.”

  “Piss off.”

  “Don’t worry, I will be pissing off in a minute. I just want to savour you while I have you. It’s a real shame you’re not wearing a skirt tonight, because I have a boner that didn’t receive the loving attention it needs, and I don’t have time to deal with your jeans.”

  “I have a knife to help you with that boner.”

  He laughed. “I’d risk your knife to fuck you, Tessie. Jakey tells me all about how tasty you are in bed.”

  “He does not,” I scorned.

  “That’s what we talk about when he visits me in jail.”

  “He doesn’t visit you. You’re an embarrassment to him.”

  He squeezed me uncomfortably tight. “Watch what you’re saying. Your smart mouth will get you into trouble. Didn’t you know Jakey visited me twice when I was in jail?” A cool night breeze ruffled our hair. “Aw, you didn’t know that, did you?”

  I didn’t respond.

  “He didn’t tell you. He must have lied to you.”

  “Jakey doesn’t lie to me.”

  “I’m afraid he must. Let me think. He visited me once in July and once in August.”

  I remained silent, but my mind was whirling. Jake had been busy on a weekend in each of those months. But he’d told me he’d gone to a conference in Big Town in mid-July and had pulled a weekend of shifts in late-August to help out a work colleague whose wife was in hospital. He hadn’t been visiting Red in jail, had he? The thought that Jake might have lied to me about what he was really doing on those weekends hit me hard.

  “You’re lying,” I accused.

  “I’m not the one lying to you, Tessie.”

  Heavy footsteps approaching signalled the arrival of the Sarge.

  “Pity,” said Red, a tinge of regret in his voice. “But I value my freedom more than boning you.”

  He held the back of my head so I couldn’t move and leaned down to kiss me. I tried to twist my head away, but he held it still and his lips pressed gently on mine.

  Robbed of my ability to deal with his unwanted caress, I resorted to childishness. “Yuck!” I spat.

  In the weak glow of the street lighting, I imagined I saw hurt flicker across his face, gone before I could convince myself it had really been there. His smile tightened.

  “Our time will come one day, Tessie.”

  “That will be the day you die, Red Bycraft.”

  He released me and sprang away, sprinting towards the fifth shed, where the broken double door facing the bay allowed for an easy escape route into the wilderness. I bolted after him only to collide with the Sarge who barged through the door into the fourth shed. The impact sent us both reeling backwards, losing precious seconds and momentum.

  “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” he asked anxiously, reaching for me in the darkness. His fingers grasped my forearm.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Which way?”

  “Into the fifth shed. You go. I’ll catch up. I have to find my knife first.”

  While he hared off in the same direction as Red, I dropped to my knees and felt around on the filthy floor for my knife. When my hands closed over it, I snatched it up and ran after the Sarge.

  I recognised his silhouette standing at the gaping double-door exit, peering out into the darkness, his hands on his hips. Overgrown vegetation encroached at the doorway to the shed, making tentative inroads inside. In a few years, this shed would be almost invisible under the green growth.

  I felt my way over to him.

  “What did you do with the woman?”

  “I left her with that boy.”

  “Oh God.” I rubbed my face. “Could this get any worse? The Super’s going to kill us. We have to catch Red.”

  “I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t want to leave you alone with Bycraft and I didn’t want to abandon her. I managed to get hold of the Super. She’s sending us a couple of uniforms and a patrol car now we actually have Bycraft in our sights. But we need to get that girl to hospital for forensics as soon as possible.”

  “Did he . . .?”

  “Partially, I think. I could barely understand what she was saying, she was crying so much. But he definitely assaulted her physically. Punched her around a couple of times. Tried to choke her to subdue her.”

  “Bastard.”

  He concentrated on peering outside. “I can’t hear anything. Surely if he’d escaped out into that wilderness we’d hear him moving about?”

  We both stood silent for a moment straining our ears, hearing nothing for our troubles but the normal sounds of nocturnal animal activities – scuffling from the undergrowth, the squealing of fruit bats, the lonely call of a distant owl. It would be impossible to leave this shed without making a lot of noise.

  “So, if we can’t hear him outside . . .”

  “He never left the building.”

  We spun around. A figure darted from the far corner of the shed towards the inner door, back the way we’d come.

  “Hey!” the Sarge yelled, pounding aft
er him.

  I ran close behind, trying not to trip over his heels as we pursued Red. Back inside the fourth shed the Sarge stopped suddenly and I smacked into the back of him.

  “Ooof!”

  “Shh,” he whispered and we listened intently. Again, no noise.

  “He’s here in this shed.”

  “Damn these dark corners.”

  A pinging noise sounded near us. “Hit the ground,” the Sarge shouted urgently, pushing on the back of my neck to force me down to eat cement.

  A laugh rang out from the furthest corner. “You of all people should have remembered my gun, Tessie.”

  “You’re under arrest, Red Bycraft. Put your weapon down and turn around, hands against the wall,” instructed the Sarge.

  “Suck my dick, copper.”

  “You’ll get plenty of that when you’re back in jail,” I taunted, making sure I kept myself a small target.

  “I’ll kill all of us before I go back to jail. And you better believe that.”

  Using my elbows and knees, I began to creep across the dirty cement floor to where Red stood, keeping to those sections with dim lighting.

  “What’s that noise?” Red demanded. “Is that you, Tessie? Stop moving or I’ll shoot.”

  I lay motionless on the floor, calculating the distance between us and trying not to gag on the smell of the urine-soaked, rotting rubbish invading my nostrils. Not having a chance to discuss my brilliant plan with the Sarge, I could only hope he felt a little psychic energy tonight and could read my mind.

  I crawled on my belly another metre forward.

  “I know you’re there, Tessie. I can hear you. Where are you? Show yourself.”

  “You’ll be going back to jail, for sure,” provoked the Sarge, in an attempt to engage Red and distract him from my whereabouts.

  Red may have been an evil man, but he wasn’t stupid. He declined to take the Sarge’s bait. “Where’s Tessie? I can’t see her.”