by Sandy Vaile
Some place in Micah’s blurry brain knew he should be appalled to be out having fun while Chelsea and Rowan were still missing. “Maybe we should’ve gone in tonight,” he murmured.
“No, we shouldn’t,” Neve said. “Tomorrow we’ll make a decision, when we’ve had time to digest all the information.”
It took a concerted effort to walk casually around the car, and he swayed a couple of times. He dodged Tony as the old man fell into the back seat, still singing at the top of his lungs, and almost bumped into Bronwyn. She was inches from him with those intense, hard eyes.
“You’d better not hurt her,” she snarled quietly.
Whoa. He tried to step back but landed against the car. He heard Neve’s car door shut.
Bronwyn kept her voice low. “Sydney won’t be far enough for you to run if you break her heart.”
He didn’t have a chance to respond before she spun around and headed for her own car.
Okay, so she’s protective, not jealous. And here I thought Neve and I had kept our distance well tonight.
Maybe not.
• • •
Neve waved to Bron as she pulled onto the road.
Even without alcohol in her system, she felt intoxicated watching three of her favourite people fool around. Her gaze was constantly drawn to the rear-view mirror, where Tony’s rosy face was larger than life, his white teeth glistening against his olive skin as he laughed and crooned. Seeing him so jolly was like being twirled around the dance floor atop his toes as a little girl.
Tony and Jack broke into a rendition of He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother.
She chuckled. Her legs ached from the long hike today, and she rolled her shoulders to loosen those muscles. Maybe I should’ve had a little wine.
As they came around the bend in the main road, her heart skipped a beat. It was a stupid reaction to seeing a police car when she’d only drunk lemon squash. In an instant, her eyes took a snapshot of the scene captured in the pool of light that spilled from the general store’s porch. There was a police car with a Harley Davidson behind it, two men standing on the footpath.
Hang on a minute. Cops always parked behind someone when they pulled them over and flashed their blue rooftop lights. So it was unlikely he’d pulled the biker over for an offence. Maybe they knew each other.
Her left wheel dipped into a pothole, and the headlights bounced off the men’s faces. Micah gasped at the same time she did.
“You recognise him?” she asked.
He was rigid. His head turned as they passed, studying the men carefully.
But that didn’t make sense. She’d been the one to see the skinny mechanic when she crept around the Mutts’ shed this afternoon. Micah was around the back at the time. He couldn’t know what the mechanic looked like.
Micah turned towards her. Now that they were between streetlights, the whites of his eyes were bright in the dark car.
“Pull over,” he said.
Tony and Jack cut off midchorus.
Neve steered into a driveway next to the bakery, and they all turned to stare up the road. The two men were no more than a hundred metres away. Their faces and street side were in shadow, but the porch lighting was enough to make out a few details. One was thin with a leather jacket, ragged jeans, and black leather boots. The other wore a police uniform and held a hat in his hand, making his short, blonde hair obvious.
The men gestured with their hands, more like an antagonistic debate than authoritative counsel.
“That’s the officer who took my statement when the rental car was stolen,” Micah said without taking his eyes off them.
Neve tilted her head to one side. “But why is he talking to one of the Mutts?”
“What?”
“I recognise the skinny biker. He’s the mechanic I saw today.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
Jack leant between the front seats. “Are you both sure?”
“Yes,” they answered simultaneously.
Neve’s side of the car was the closest to the men, so she unwound her window but couldn’t make out any words. The slightly more than comfortable distance between them suggested they weren’t chatting about their favourite sport. The mechanic punctuated his side of the argument by stabbing a lit cigarette in the air. The cop flung a hand above his head and paced a few steps towards his car. He turned and pointed a finger at the mechanic, then barked what sounded like a demand.
The mechanic nodded reluctantly and walked back to the cop. They talked more calmly, the thinner man shifting his weight from foot to foot and edging closer to his bike. A moment later, the mechanic tossed his cigarette into the gutter. They shook hands and moved to their respective vehicles.
Neve shifted in her seat. “What should we do?”
“What does this mean?” Micah asked.
“Get out of here,” Jack told them.
“Maybe we should follow them?” Her stomach lurched at the idea.
“No, we should go home and talk this through.” Jack twitched one shoulder at Tony, who nodded his agreement.
The boys seemed to have instantly sobered. Neve waited until the cop did a U-turn and disappeared up the hill and the mechanic roared past and turned up Potter Road. She reversed out of the driveway and headed home. There was no way they could trust involving the cops now. It was all up to them.
Chapter 30
Micah braced a hand on the bedroom wall to steady the thrum of agitation coursing through his veins. All the way home from the pub, Tony insisted they had to do a snatch and grab, but it wasn’t his wife and child in danger. Besides, involving the police wasn’t the only course of action. There were people who specialised in difficult extractions. For a price.
Neve hadn’t said a word, and still didn’t as she turned back her bed.
He couldn’t stand the silence a moment longer. “I don’t want any of you in danger. It’s time to get professional help.”
She shrugged.
“You’re going to tell me I’m doing the wrong thing too?”
Neve shook her head. “No. It might not be the same choice I’d make, but I’ve had enough taken away from me to know that you can’t live life with regrets. If you say we need more information, then we’ll get closer tomorrow. And afterwards, if you want to trust someone else to go get your family, then it’s your call.”
His chest expanded. When all of this is over, I’m going to make sure you never want for anything, Neve Botticelli. Whether you want to see me again or not, someone needs to repay the kindness you send out into the world.
“I can’t wait to put my feet up. That was some hike today.” She rolled her shoulders and sighed.
“It doesn’t even seem like today.” The soles of his feet still burned from the kilometres walked across hot soil. “You know, I’m surprised Tony was the one who suggested going to the pub. Has he done that before?”
“Not in a long time.”
“He’s different when he’s enjoying himself. Almost human.” He jabbed her in the ribs to punctuate the joke.
She smiled. “It sure was nice. Maybe pushing his boundaries a little has been good for him.”
“Hey, my mind’s doing somersaults right now. I don’t think I can go to sleep, so I might check on the business world.”
“Sure. I might read for a while in bed.”
She stood on tiptoes to brush her soft lips across his cheek. The gesture was casual and all the more special for it. A man could get used to living with Neve. Then her cheeks pinked, and she stepped back.
“Umm, good night,” she said.
There were a dozen messages on his phone awaiting attention, but it was too late to return them, so he flicked through the e-mails and flagged a few urgent ones. The business world would have to wait another day, maybe longer if things didn’t go well tomorrow. He did, however, need to make sure that his accountant made the money transfer by the deadline, no matter what. If something happened to him,
the money could be the difference between life and death for Rowan and Chelsea.
He glanced at the time—9:30 p.m. in Sydney—late, but not too late. He dialled, and the pickup didn’t take long.
“Hi, Mum.”
“Darling, is everything all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” he lied. “Hope you weren’t in bed.”
“No dear, I was just watching “Downton Abbey.” Do you have any good news about Rowan?”
“I’m hoping to see him tomorrow, but don’t get your hopes up. If it doesn’t go to plan . . .” There wasn’t any way to prepare her for the worst. “I’d better let you go, Mum. I just wanted to tell you I love you and it’ll all be over soon.” He pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers.
“You mean you’ll be home soon?”
“Sure thing. Good night, Mum.”
“Stay safe, Micah.”
He put the mobile down and sat in the dark with his eyes closed. Talking to his mother had reminded him of the family that still cherished him.
Reflexively he spun the gold band on his ring finger. All this time he’d worn it to protect Chelsea, okay, maybe hoping life would go back to the way it was when he thought he had it all, but he’d been doing the right thing for long enough. Chelsea was his past, not his future.
Whatever was developing between Neve and him, it was compelling but would never have a chance to flourish unless he adjusted his inflexible standpoint on what made an ideal family. It wasn’t like his own father had set a good precedent, so it was up to Micah to swim against the tide.
The wedding band slid easily from his finger, as though it had never settled into place. He dropped it into the front pocket of his laptop bag and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
A lamp flicking on followed soft shuffling from behind, and Neve folded herself into the armchair beside him, her feet tucked under her.
“Still working?” She entwined her fingers through her hair and sectioned it into three parts.
“Would you like some help?” Micah moved to stand behind her. “I used to do this for my little sister.”
“Sarah?”
“You remembered. Mum used to work long shifts, so I would help Sarah and Matt get ready for school. Her hair was so long that if it wasn’t plaited, it would be like a clump of tumbleweed by the end of the day.”
He smiled at the memory and placed his hands over Neve’s to take her crimped hair between his fingers. Efficiently he interwove the three thick bands, twisted a hair tie back and forth at the end of the plait, and kissed the top of her head.
“Big day tomorrow.” That was an understatement.
“Do you think everything will turn out all right?” he said, even though he knew it could go either way. It was the eleventh hour. A time for blind belief that the good guy always won.
“I think we’re making good headway, and I can feel it in my bones that we’re going to bring them home safe. Once we know where they are, we can get them out.” She reached a hand behind and touched his arm, slid down it, and entwined their fingers.
It was a show of solidarity when the reality wasn’t as certain.
• • •
Every time Micah closed his eyes, he could see the terrified faces of Chelsea and Rowan, pleading for him to help them. He’d woken covered in sweat several times before giving up and sneaking into the library.
There were plenty of business e-mails screaming for his attention anyway. Of course, he’d been side tracked by Facebook and today’s news. A bold heading caught his eye: “Kuitpo Forest Murder Linked to Bikie Gang.” It was accompanied by a photograph of crime scene investigators standing by a white tarpaulin that was stretched between two thick pine trees.
A woman’s body was found at Kuitpo Forest in the southern Mount Lofty Ranges last night. A camper discovered it in a shallow grave at around 8:00 p.m.
The deceased is said to be Caucasian and aged in her thirties, with blonde hair, 155 cm tall. Although SA Police have not yet released her identity, Senior Sergeant Stratton confirmed that she has been linked to the notorious outlaw motorcycle gang, the Mutts.
The coroner has indicated that the woman was not killed at the gravesite, but suffered significant trauma injuries, and there were signs that she struggled with her attacker.
Police are awaiting forensic results and following several promising leads.
A shiver quivered from his head to his toes. Neve had mentioned Kuitpo Forest as they’d driven to the hand over. It wasn’t that far away.
What if something had gone horribly wrong? Maybe Boiler got sick of Chelsea’s brand of haughty condescension and killed her.
Chelsea was already dead.
The god-awful scene wouldn’t stop playing out in his head. Chelsea struggling against a huge, tattooed biker, begging for her life. She would have been so afraid, and he wasn’t there to protect her. No matter the mistakes she may have made, she didn’t deserve to die like that. And to add insult to injury, after the last breath had left her fragile body, they’d shovelled damp soil over it.
Please don’t let anything happen to Rowan. He’s just a little boy.
What if Rowan’s body was out there too, and the police just hadn’t found it yet? A sharp stab of terror shot through him.
No, that couldn’t be true. It would be more than he could bear.
I’m going to tear those animals limb from limb. The bastards had gone too far, and it was time for him to put a stop to it. There wasn’t any way Neve needed to be in harm’s way again. No, it was his wife and his money that got him into this mess, and he was going to be the one to resolve it.
Micah snuck back into the dark bedroom and dragged out the clothes he could find by feel. As luck would have it, a black ensemble that would work for the clandestine activities he had planned.
• • •
Every crunch of stones beneath the slow-turning tires grated on Micah’s nerves. Despite clouds of vapour pouring from his mouth at each breath, beads of sweat trickled down his temple from the exertion of pushing a quarter-tonne Bentley.
He tripped on a rock that he couldn’t see in the dark and lost his grip on the steering wheel. The Bentley ground to a halt.
The Botticellis’ shack was barely visible through the trees now. This would have to do. Hopefully, they wouldn’t hear the engine start, and if he got out of there quickly, he might get enough of a head start to do this thing alone.
It would have to be enough.
Chapter 31
Neve sat bolt upright and clawed at the dark, her heart racing. She’d woken every hour on the hour all night, but at last the slight glow of dawn slithered through the gap at the edge of the bedroom curtain.
Finally, the stealth she’d learnt while sneaking around the bush with Tony came in handy as she fossicked for clothing and stole from the room without waking Micah.
The sly smile dropped from her lips when she realised that the glow wasn’t daylight. Micah’s laptop was on in the library, but he was nowhere to be seen. She pulled the bedroom curtain back and turned on the light. The bedroll was rumpled and empty. The clock read 4:52 a.m.
Clothes still in hand, she tiptoed into the lounge room, the wintry cement floor biting the soles of her feet like shards of ice. No light in the bathroom or kitchen. Where the hell was he?
Back in the study, she pulled on her clothes and read the news report that was open on the laptop screen.
Crap! It had to be Chelsea. It was just too much of a coincidence not to be. Oh hell, Micah’s gone after them alone. What the hell is he thinking? In the dark too.
Within ten minutes, she was geared up and standing in front of the shed with keys in hand. Tony was going to hit the roof when he found out they’d gone without him, but the fewer people involved, the fewer people who could be hurt.
It was still dark, which meant the birds weren’t chirping yet. No noise to distract a sleeping Tony from the raucous scrape of the shed door being dragged open. She glanced at her st
ation wagon. There was no way she could push that far on her own.
Inch by inch, she edged the corrugated iron door along its runner, clenching her teeth at each squeal and grate, until there was just enough room to push one of the motorbikes out. It was still a long walk to the gate, but if she started the two stroke anywhere near the house, Tony would wake for sure. As it was, his natural body clock would rouse him within the hour.
It wouldn’t take him long to figure out where she’d gone and follow, and the last thing she needed was two gung-ho old blokes traipsing about the Mutts’ property. The idea caught in her throat. They might be trained killers, but she refused to have Tony or Jack in danger. They were all the family she had left.
It was better if she went with Micah anyway. It wasn’t like they even knew where Chelsea and Rowan were yet. The property might be another dead end.
On the way past Tony’s Jeep, she stopped to cut the fuel line and plunged her knife into the sidewall of two tires for good measure.
“Sorry, Dad.”
By the time she’d pushed the bike all the way to the front gate, her first layer of clothing stuck to her skin and sweat dampened her hair, but she still pulled on the heavy jacket. The cold she felt on the ground would be nothing compared to the wind chill as she raced along the dark country roads.
Riding along unlit, winding roads at night was harrowing. A single headlight just didn’t cut it for seeing around corners, and her knuckles about cracked from being frozen in a death grip for half an hour. If Micah had been paying attention during their planning discussions, he should have entered from the opposite side of the Mutts’ property to where they’d first come.
And there it was, Micah’s car tucked under a stand of wattle trees, right beside the driveway they’d spotted on the map. It was private property, but from the satellite view it looked like a hard-packed dirt road that went all the way through to the main Cherry Gardens road. A shortcut they might be thankful for if they had to make a speedy exit.
She kicked the side stand down and pushed the motorbike under the trees too.