Liam mouthed wordlessly, “We’ll be back.” Taking Isobel’s hand, he led her silently away from the house.
24
Moonlight broke through the clouds, touching the treetops with a pale glow.
Isobel shut herself into Liam’s car with as little noise as she could.
An owl flew off, hooting its disapproval at having its hunting disturbed.
The others were still not back yet.
“What was that?” The hurricane of emotion she’d been hanging onto so tightly blew to the surface and came out as anger. At Liam. “That thing you gave Ben. What was it?”
“Calm down, Bel. It’s a voice recorder with a built in tracking chip.”
“How can I be calm? If Roric finds it—”
“We have to have evidence.”
“He is an eight-year-old, Liam.”
“He is a very gutsy, bright eight-year-old. Smart and resourceful.”
“I don’t know.”
He didn’t argue. He didn’t rise to her anger. He simply took her in his arms and pulled her to his chest.
She stiffened.
He didn’t budge. Leaning down, he kissed the top of her head. “You were very brave. I’m so proud of you.”
Strangely, keeping him at a distance didn’t seem so important anymore.
“So now what?” Isobel sipped the coffee in her hands, not wanting to drink it but knowing the caffeine would help her stay awake.
They sat in a lounge a mere stone’s throw from where her heart lay sleeping on a dirty blanket. Back outside Roric’s house, they had waited for minutes that took hours to pass. The other three emerged, shaken but unharmed.
Kez kept shaking her head and repeating over and over, “That was too close. Too close.”
Maggie was a gem. More than that, she was turning out to be an entire treasure chest.
Liam had been quite willing to get together and discuss plans right there in the bush, but Maggie would have none of it.
A few calls later, they pulled up outside an empty house—a friend’s holiday home. Maggie found the mains, the kettle, and soon they were nibbling on cookies and sipping hot drinks.
Isobel gave up on her coffee, setting it down on the side table. “I need to know the plan, Liam.”
“I’m going to have to get back,” Kez said. “My husband is going to grill me for sure.”
Savannah drained her last sip. “Same here. Let us know what you need.”
Isobel jumped up and hugged them each tight. “Don’t have words to thank you.”
“No need.” Kez spoke and Savannah nodded.
Maggie left at the same time, fussing over whether they’d get by without milk.
Their car engines cut through the quiet, making Liam visibly cringe.
When he walked back into the lounge, Bel was waiting for him. “So what now?”
He checked his watch. “It’s 9 PM now. Soon, we need to head back and keep an eye on the window. I told Ben to drop the recorder out the window as soon as he had something that would work as evidence. We need to be watching when he does that.”
Bel nodded without comment. In her head, she had a parade of all the things that could go wrong. Giant holes in his planning that could see those kids slip through the cracks and vanish forever. “I’m ready to head back.”
“I was going to ask if you thought we should take turns.”
“If we are, then I want to go first.” Isobel bounced on her toes, as twitchy as a gecko on desert sand.
“Well that’s not going to happen.”
“Then I guess we’ll go together.” Isobel smiled at him, sure that try and stop me was written all over her face.
Hours passed slowly. The pines needles that seemed such welcome cushioning when they’d arrived turned nasty, poking her with sharp green fingers.
Liam was next to her in the dark and with her senses heightened by no sight, she breathed him in with every breath she took. Time became meaningless.
Isobel began to feel like an astronaut adrift in space, suspended between two worlds yet unable to grasp either. Endless nothingness, just consuming concern for the young lives just beyond her reach.
****
The numbness in her arm woke her up. Dazed thoughts criss-crossed her brain, trying to break the surface to consciousness. Through the dappled shade of the trees, she could see the house. It lay tipped on its side. How odd.
Awareness came slowly. Her pillow was Liam’s legs. His hand rested on her shoulder. She cringed. So much for that cup of coffee. She could only hope that she hadn’t been snoring. Twisting her head, she could see that Liam hadn’t even noticed that she’d woken up.
His eyes stayed fixed on the house, but his grip on her shoulder tightened.
Easing herself upright, she turned to see what had him transfixed.
Ben stood close to the window. He seemed agitated. Nervous. He took one last quick glance around the room, then shot his hand out the window, letting something drop.
Liam had stopped breathing.
“Do we get it now?” Isobel asked.
“It would be too easy to be spotted, but…” His forehead wrinkled in indecision. Resolution snapped across his face. He leaned in close, lips a mere breath from her ear, “I’m going to create a diversion out front. As soon as you’ve seen Roric leave the house, run. Pick up the recorder and make your way to the trees to the back. Don’t make any contact with the kids just yet. Make sense?”
He moved away to see her nod. He pressed the car keys into her frozen hand and leaned in close. “When you have the device, take the car and get yourself to Maggie’s cottage. Don’t wait for me. I will find you.” He pulled back and his eyes bored into hers, at once entreating and demanding she obey. He mouthed silently, “For the sake of those kids.”
He melted silently through the trees.
Minutes later, a commotion broke out in the far corner of the property. An explosion of weavers took flight, their bright yellow wings beating the air in displeasure.
If Bel didn’t know better, she would have expected an elephant to come crashing through the hedge.
True to prediction, the door flew open and Roric ran out, gun in hand. He ran towards the source of the chaos, firearm ready.
Bel waited until his back was towards her as he ran away from where she hid.
Not sure if her jelly legs would hold her, she sprinted, ducking down by the flowerbed outside the window. Grappling around in the dirt, she came up with nothing but handfuls of soil. It has to be here. A shot shattered the morning quiet.
Not Liam.
Dear God, not Liam.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and opened them again. There it was! The recorder had snagged in the branches of a ragged conifer. She grabbed it and put it in her pocket. Everything was silent now. With no idea where Roric was, she gave herself no time to think. No time for fear. Holding her pocket closed, she ran for the cover of the trees, crashed to her knees, and felt the contents of her stomach rise. She swallowed hard, willing herself not to throw up.
Keeping Mia centre stage in her mind, she ran along the road, found the car, and turned back towards Maggie’s cottage. Regret snapped at her heels as she drove. What if that shot hit Liam?
****
There was a split second between the clap of the shot and the searing fire across the top of his left arm. A jolt of adrenalin pumped through his veins. Biting back a low growl, he dropped down and lay still, panting in pain, clutching his wound with bloody fingers.
Roric crashed through the bush nearby. He swore and hit the bush with the gun in his hand. He turned back as quickly as he’d come, and all Liam could hope for was that his diversion had bought enough time for Isobel.
Not taking any chances, Liam remained dead still, not moving. A full five minutes later, he dragged himself to his feet.
Roric was nowhere to be seen.
Cradling his injured arm across his chest, Liam jogged towards where he’d parked. W
ith each jolt, the pain shot through his body, setting stars to dance in his eyes. No vehicle in sight, so Isobel had managed to get away. He’d have to walk.
Perspiration and blood dripped from his shirt by the time he got to Maggie’s cottage. His vision swam as he tried to aim himself at the one correct front door of the three dancing before his eyes. His blood-soaked hand slipped on the knob and he felt his knees give way from under him.
****
Isobel threw the door open and caught Liam. She staggered under his weight, but somehow kept her footing. They stumbled through the doorway. Isobel tripped and fell sideways, slamming her shoulder into the wall.
Liam came down hard, grunting as he landed on her and rolled to the floor.
Isobel got to her knees, dragged him inside and shut the door.
Liam struggled upright, his back against the wall. “Find bandages. Anything to stop blood flow. Need sugar water.”
“Shh now. Save your strength.”
She ran through the cottage, hunting in drawers and wardrobes for anything that could help. In the bedroom, she found a sewing kit with safety pins, needles and thread. A mirrored cupboard in the bathroom held a bottle of surgical spirits, a roll of toilet paper, and a hand towel.
By the time she got back with the kit, Liam was slipping down the wall, groaning in pain. She ripped off a thick wad of toilet paper, opened the bottle of spirits, and soaked the paper. The bullet had ripped through the thick flesh of Liam’s deltoid, and it was bleeding profusely.
“I’m going to press this onto your wound, and keep it in place with a strip of towel and safety pins.”
“Bel, stitch it.”
“Uh-uh. Not gonna happen. I only brought that kit for the safety pins.”
“There’s no time. Disinfect the wound.” Each word was an effort. “And the needle. It’s like sewing a hem.” He grinned, grimacing through the pain.
“You’re making jokes, while I have to…sew you up like a hem. You are nuts.” She rolled her eyes feeling heat rush to her cheeks. Being pushed into a corner seemed to bring out the worst in her. She focussed it all on Liam, if he hadn’t got himself shot, she wouldn’t have to put a needle through his skin. Beneath that anger simmered a tangled mess of other emotions that she dare not investigate. Bel’s anger was directed at Liam, but in truth, she was angry at Roric, at life, maybe even at God.
She threaded the needle and knotted the end, muttering under her breath. Pouring surgical spirits into a small plastic bowl, she curled the entire length of the thread and the needle into the liquid. She dipped a square of gauze, soaking it in the foul smelling fluid.
“Brace yourself.” She mopped blood, applying pressure as she wiped.
Liam said nothing, but she could see the tendons in his neck bulge as he rode the waves of pain. Not stopping to think, she wiped her hands down with spirits, picked up the needle, and stitched the gash. It took twelve stitches. As she tied off the last knot, her belly heaved but she shoved the thought aside. No time for queasiness now.
“Good girl.” He clutched the elbow of his stitched arm. “Now pad it and wrap it with a strip of towel.”
Bel did as he said. “Done. That’s as good as I’m going to get it.” A wave of relief washed over her. The anger that had seen her through the makeshift surgery evaporated, leaving her cold and sick. She wrinkled her nose at his shirt. “You can’t walk around like that.”
Between them, they managed to slip off the soaked shirt.
“There’s a spare in my car. I’ll get it later. What did Ben record? Have you listened?”
She dug in her pocket and handed him the small device.
Clumsy with one hand not working right, he fumbled with the tiny buttons. He found play, and Roric’s voice filled the air, pauses in between as he spoke on the phone.
“I have the merchandise…three of them, yes…no! I cannot wait. Deposit the money and I’ll make arrangements to get them to you. It has to be today…their mothers are taken care of, no need for concern.”
Liam and Bel stared at each other, partly in triumph but mostly sheer horror.
Bel recovered first. “I’m phoning the police. This has to be enough.” The chair creaked as she pushed herself out of it.
Liam pulled himself upright. “Bel, wait!”
“What?”
“If you fetch my phone from the car, I’ll get hold of the guy I’ve been working with.”
Bel fetched his mobile and hovered over him while he dialled, her foot tapping.
He tried the detective’s office first. It rang unanswered. His mobile went straight to voicemail. He tried both again and resorted to Nass’s home line.
Nothing.
Each unanswered call threw sugar in the fizzy drink of Bel’s impatience.
By the time he reached his fifth call, she left the room and dialled the local police herself.
25
“House is empty.” Officer Ritchie, a burly, dark-haired man wearing a bulletproof vest and carrying a gun, jogged across the lawn to where Isobel and Liam were waiting by the cars.
“What? We were here forty-five minutes ago!” Isobel felt strength drain from her limbs.
Liam said nothing, but the muscles working in his jaw were a telltale sign of the storm inside.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. There is nobody home.” He hung over forwards, red in the face and gasping for air.
“What can we do? Our kids—”
He unclipped his vest, lifting it off over his head. “Come down to the station. We’ll open a case.” The radio in his vehicle crackled to life. “Excuse me, I need to answer this.”
Bel sought out Liam’s eyes. She sent him a slight glance to the house and a brief head-tilt.
He nodded.
Officer Ritchie finished on the radio and called to them. “Follow me down to the station, folks. We’ll take it from there.” His movements were lazy, making Isobel wonder how much concern he had for their missing kids.
Liam offered a mock salute. “Yes, sir! We’ll be right behind you.” He sent a grim wink to Bel.
As soon as the squad car disappeared around the first corner, they ran to the house. The front door stood open. Neglect creaked through every squeaking floorboard, every rotten panel. The wooden porch pillars sported hundreds of tiny holes. Wood borer. Spider webs hung like moss in the corners, dusty trails blowing in the breeze.
“What made you phone that guy?” Liam asked.
“We needed to do something and your Detective Whatever-His-Name-Is was spectacularly absent. What was I supposed to do?” Bel eyed him sideways. “Why is it such a big deal anyway?”
Liam wiped a hand across his brow, shielding his eyes. He knew he shouldn’t have lied to her about the traitor on the police force having been found. Now, his omission could cost the lives of the children. He opened his mouth to speak and then shut it again. There was no time. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s get hunting.”
The cottage was small. They made their way to the back, to the room where the kids had been kept. The dirty blanket lay in the corner where it had been the night before. They scanned the room for anything that might give them a clue.
Liam shook his head. “I don’t think we’re going to find anything. I’m going to check outside the window.”
Isobel hardly heard. Clinging to calm by a thread, she felt herself edging toward the brink. There was only so much she could cope with, and she was way beyond that point already. Please God, if there is anything here… show us.
She knelt down, putting her ear to the ground and getting her eye in line with the floor—an old trick her Grandpa had taught her to find lost things. Nothing. She scratched her head.
Liam called through the open window, “Nothing out here either. I guess it’s time to head to the police station.”
“Uh-huh.” She hadn’t heard a word. Her mind was turning over each part of the room, a giant puzzle that needed solving. She picked up the blanket to shake it out and fell to her knees. “Li
am! Come quick!”
Within seconds, he ran back into the room. “What?”
“Look!”
There in the thick dust, traced by a shaky finger no bigger than Ben’s, were three words: fish and chips. Both of the s’s were written backwards.
“Was he hungry?” Bel said. “Or is it a message?”
Liam shook his head. “Poor boy must have been starving. I can’t see that there’s anything else to it.”
“I’m not so sure, Liam. Maybe we should ask Melindi.”
“You know what that means, don’t you? If we want to ask her, we’ll have to tell her they’re missing.”
Bel cringed. “I wish there were another way, but we’re out of time. If he gets them off South African soil…”
Liam put an arm around her and drew her roughly to his chest. “I know. Let’s not go there now. “
His kindness removed the lock she’d held carefully in place. All her emotion came bursting out like a cupboard stuffed too full of clothes. Bel wanted to scream, pound his chest with her fist, shake someone…instead, she pulled away from him, dashing tears from her cheeks. “I don’t think Mia got her banana this morning. That thought is too much—”
“I know.” He took his phone out of his pocket and snapped a photo of the words. “Let’s go get them.”
He was feeling it too and somehow that made it possible for Bel to breathe.
****
Melindi, dressed in a green hospital gown, was perched on the edge of her bed like a teenager at a prom waiting for someone to ask her to dance. She was happy to see Isobel, but even happier to see Liam.
“Doc, when can I go home? I want to see my kids.”
There was no handbook on how to tell a friend that her children were stolen, no guidelines on the Internet. Of all the ugly things Isobel had lived through, this moment was shaping up to be right there with the worst of them.
Liam gave Melindi a quick once-over. He checked her pulse, briefly lifted her eyelids. “How are feeling?”
Finding Mia Page 15