Fatal Mistake

by Karen M. Davis

  ‘Byron Bay 101. In pursuit.’

  ‘All other cars stand by,’ the VKG radio operator instructed. ‘Go ahead, 101.’

  ‘I’m in pursuit of a target’s vehicle.’

  Josh gave the Audi’s registration number and their location. The operator asked for further information: his speed, the weather and traffic conditions, visibility, his driving experience. Other Strike Force Viscount cars piped in, provided their locations and offered their assistance to join the pursuit.

  The adrenaline pumping through Josh’s veins sharpened his senses and set his heart pounding in his chest. Now he activated the portable interior strobe lights at the front and back of the car. He then reached out the window and slapped the magnetic light onto the car’s roof. Pulsing streaks of red and blue flashed across the surrounding countryside. He flicked a switch and the siren yelped and screamed as he sped through the night.

  The country roads were quiet and the absence of streetlights made the darkness blacker than black. Josh hoped no wildlife jumped out at him. Wombats and kangaroos were renowned for straying from the bush and becoming frozen in headlights at this time of night. A collision with anything travelling at speed could be fatal to all involved.

  Shadow, knowing the chase was on, upped his speed and became reckless. He overtook a ute on a bend. Josh held his breath until he had made it through the stupid manoeuvre safely. He waited until the road straightened and the ute dutifully pulled over as far to the left as possible to let him pass. He had to put his foot down to catch Shadow’s taillights shining bright red in the distance.

  For a moment, Josh’s heart jumped into his throat when Shadow, negotiating a tight corner, fishtailed and nearly lost it close to the edge of a cliff. A dust cloud from the loose bitumen threw rocks and dirt at Josh’s windscreen, blinding him for a second. Seeing the car almost careen over the cliff slowed Josh down a bit, for his safety, Shadow’s and that of anyone else who might happen upon them. There was no way he was going to be killed to catch this jerk. Josh also wanted Shadow alive, not lying at the bottom of a ravine, or scraped off the roadway. Police pursuits were constantly scrutinised in the media. Besides, there was too much paperwork if it ended badly.

  When the dust cloud cleared, Josh was amazed to see Shadow had somehow recovered, picked up his pace again and become a speck up ahead.

  Another police vehicle joined Josh, coming up behind him. He could also see flashing lights to his right, and more to his left.

  ‘Byron Bay 103, I’m heading south on Bardwell Road. I am in a position to cut the target vehicle off and try to force him to a stop.’ Josh recognised Karly’s voice.

  Then Shadow made an inconceivable decision. Apparently spooked by all the lights and sirens and the prospect of capture, he left the road and ploughed straight through a wire fence into a paddock. Where did he think he was going? Josh updated the radio and continued to follow at a distance. He was grateful to be in a four-wheel drive as he skidded over grass, bounced over holes in the uneven ground, and crunched fallen branches.

  Shadow hit the brakes and the car veered to the right, skidded sideways along a grassy mud patch and tipped over onto two wheels. It teetered, somehow balanced precariously for a long moment, before righting itself, only to slam straight into . . . something. There was a loud thump. Then a shriek of agony rang out.

  Holy shit . . . He’s hit an animal. Josh screeched to a halt behind the crashed car. Gun in hand, he jumped out and ran to the driver’s side door. From the glow of the Audi’s headlights, he saw Shadow had collided with a large bull, which lay on the ground a short distance away. The animal was moaning and writhing in pain.

  Through the driver’s window, Josh could see Shadow’s head rolling back against the headrest. His eyes were staring straight ahead, at nothing. He had no blood or other visible signs of injury, but for a second Josh feared he was dead. Then he saw his jaw twitch, and realised Shadow was in some sort of shocked trance.

  When Shadow realised Josh was there, he tried to scamper across to the passenger seat. But Josh opened the door, grabbed his T-shirt and dragged him out onto the grass.

  ‘I don’t think so, mate,’ he said, rolling Shadow onto his stomach and cuffing his hands behind his back. ‘Stay there,’ he ordered, watching Shadow try to struggle into a sitting position.

  Two more police cars had now arrived and the officers came to his assistance.

  ‘Oh, the poor thing!’ Karly cried, seeing the bull.

  ‘Does anyone know anything about cows – bulls?’ Josh called.

  ‘I’ll have a look at it,’ Coffee replied. ‘I’m from the country.’

  Josh grabbed the young detective’s arm as he passed, moving towards the bull. ‘Be careful. And if it’s beyond help, I’ll put it out of its misery. You don’t have to do it.’

  The young guy shook his head. ‘It’s okay, Sarge. I’ve done it before.’

  Leaving Shadow on the ground under Karly’s guard, Josh grabbed the keys from the ignition of the car and popped the boot. There were two backpacks inside. He zipped them open to see numerous bags of white powder.

  ‘Wowza,’ he heard someone say. Another voice called, ‘Jackpot.’

  Josh walked back to where Shadow was half sitting, half lying on the grass and yanked him to his feet. Guiding him towards the boot of the car, he showed Shadow the drugs.

  ‘These are yours, I take it?’

  Shadow shrugged, said nothing.

  Coffee called out, ‘It’s beyond help, Sarge – almost dead. The kindest thing to do would be to—’

  ‘Do it,’ Josh instructed.

  The gunshot was deafening. Josh saw Shadow flinch beside him. The moaning stopped instantly.

  ‘I think I need to go to hospital,’ Shadow whimpered to no one in particular.

  ‘We will get you seen to as soon as possible,’ Josh told him. ‘But first, I want you to tell me who owns the drugs I witnessed you load from the house into the boot?’

  ‘This isn’t my car,’ Shadow protested. ‘I don’t know anything about that . . . those . . .’ He nodded at the contents in the bags. ‘Whatever that stuff is there.’

  Of course you don’t.

  ‘You’re under arrest, Richard Little – or should I say, Shadow?’ After Josh cautioned him, he said, ‘Do you understand everything I have told you?’

  Shadow nodded. ‘Yes, but I didn’t do anything.’

  As if he hadn’t heard that before.

  Josh conducted a search of Shadow before placing him in the rear of the police car. He found only a mobile phone in the pocket of his jeans. The screen was open on a text message.

  Take the drugs and run. Undercover cop on to us. Tiff.

  Josh felt fear surge like bile into his throat. Lexie’s cover was blown. Which meant her life was in grave danger.

  He had to call Rachel.

  CHAPTER 54

  ‘You have to see my boathouse,’ Tiffany said. ‘Come on, bring your drinks,’ she insisted, waving at Lexie and Batman to follow her across the back deck.

  Lexie had thought the tour of the house was over, but it seemed not. She exchanged a glance with Batman. They had little choice but to follow Tiffany, although Lexie was not happy about it; she wanted to get as far away from the vile maniac as possible. Why was Tiffany showing them so much attention? Was this some sort of power play? Flaunting her assets as a form of bragging? Or was there more to it? An increasing sense of unease bore down on Lexie. Don’t get paranoid . . . not long to go now.

  The lawn sloped down towards the water and as they walked, they chatted about the view. Lexie hugged her handbag to her hip and willed the weight of her gun to give her some badly needed reassurance. Looking over her shoulder at the partygoers on the deck and inside the house, Lexie thought they looked a million miles away. Batman reached for her hand, gave her a wink. She felt more secure having him beside her, but she wanted to return to the perceived safety of the crowd. They would look at the boathouse, tell Tiffany how
fantastic it was and then Lexie would excuse herself to use the bathroom to get back to the house.

  ‘This is my favourite place in the whole world,’ Tiffany was telling them as they descended a set of stone steps and continued across a grassy landing. ‘I did it up myself. It’s my retreat.’

  The stone boatshed was perched at the water’s edge. A pathway led to wooden doors wide enough to allow a large boat access. Tiffany pulled the doors open and Batman and Lexie moved aside as they swung outwards. Stepping inside, Tiffany switched on the light. Lexie and Batman took in what looked to be a hippie den: all bright colours, beaded cushions, Aztec mats, dream catchers, crystals and hanging silk scarves. The smell of incense and cigarette smoke infused the air.

  Tiffany walked into the middle of the shed and pirouetted, arms in the air like a ballerina. ‘You like?’ She smiled at Batman and then Lexie.

  ‘It’s incredible,’ Lexie complimented dutifully. ‘I love it. You’ve created a great vibe.’

  Batman agreed.

  ‘Good, I thought you would,’ Tiffany chirped, smiling. ‘Come in and sit for a moment. Can you feel the tranquillity? This place calms me.’

  Lexie felt anything but calm.

  Tiffany sank onto a cane chair and sipped from a bottle of Mythos beer. Batman was first to move inside, but Lexie hesitated; her instincts were screaming at her to stay out. The butterflies in her stomach were jumping hurdles. She had to keep up appearances, however. She couldn’t give the game away now.

  ‘I really have to use the ladies’ bathroom.’ Lexie smiled, pointing to her empty glass, the contents of which she had poured onto the grass when Tiffany wasn’t looking. ‘Too many drinks . . .’

  ‘There’s a bathroom at the back of the boathouse. Use that and avoid a line-up,’ Tiffany offered kindly.

  Still Lexie hesitated. She didn’t really have to use the bathroom, but she couldn’t go back on her words now. She knew she was acting strangely. Stop it, stay cool . . .

  ‘Oh, come on. Use the loo, don’t be shy.’ Tiffany rolled her eyes at Batman and giggled. ‘Is she always this weird?’

  Batman, now seated on a similar chair opposite Tiffany, shrugged and sipped on his beer. ‘I never try to work women out.’

  Reluctantly, Lexie walked towards the door at the rear of the boatshed and into the small bathroom. Staring at herself in the mirror, she could see the barely disguised fear in her eyes. The butterflies were now punching violently against the wall of her stomach. Was this her intuition, a warning? Or simply anxiety? Lexie’s senses were confused, overwhelmed. Her mind was leaping from one thought to the next, considering options, fighting an internal battle.

  Hold it together . . . You have a gun . . .

  Her hands trembled as she considered the options. She took a deep breath and gritted her teeth. If she came out of the bathroom pointing a gun at Tiffany, their cover would be blown. But did that really matter? They were all going to be arrested anyway. Perhaps she should just get it over and done with. But the plan was to keep their cover and be arrested to safeguard their undercover identities.

  Your undercover identity is no good to you if you are dead – go with your instincts. You’ve ignored them before and that didn’t work out so well.

  Making her decision, Lexie reached into her bag and pulled out her phone, quickly typing a text to Rachel: Help. But it didn’t go through – there was no reception. They were on their own for now, but backup wasn’t far away. Lexie gripped her Beretta and stepped out of the bathroom.

  And froze. Her blood turned to ice as the cold barrel of a gun was pressed against the side of her head.

  ‘You move, you’re dead, Lexie Rogers.’

  Comprehension hit Lexie like a blow to the chest, sucking all the air from her body. Her heart beat wildly and her hand gripped tighter around the gun hanging by her side.

  ‘Drop it,’ Tiffany demanded. Her voice was guttural and deep. She was no longer pretending.

  Lexie hesitated, a thousand thoughts spinning in her head as her eyes darted around the empty boatshed. Where was Batman? Tiffany poked the barrel of the gun harder into her temple. She felt a sharp pain and her mouth filled with the sour taste of dread and fear. Where had the gun come from?

  ‘Drop the fucking gun or your brain is going to be splattered all over the wall in one second,’ Tiffany hissed into her ear.

  Lexie let the Beretta fall to the floor with a dull thud.

  Tiffany grabbed her arm tightly and threw her across the room with surprising force. She slammed against the wall and was momentarily winded. A wave of dizziness caused dots to dance before her eyes, then turned everything black. She slid down the wall onto a pile of cushions.

  When her vision cleared, Lexie glanced up to see Tiffany standing over her. Platinum hair fell over her face as her body vibrated with rage. Suddenly she was not so glamorous or feminine. Her face was mean, contorted and deadly.

  As if just realising the boathouse doors were open, Tiffany rushed over and pulled them shut. They rattled and shook in their wooden frame and then stilled. To Lexie, it sounded like the seal of a crypt: chilling and final.

  Lexie swiftly weighed up her predicament, and did not like it one bit. Her identity had been compromised – she had somehow been exposed. But there would be troops storming the place very soon, so the only thing to do was keep Tiffany talking.

  ‘Tiffany, you don’t want to hurt me . . .’

  ‘Oh yes, I do,’ Tiffany screamed. ‘I want to hurt you real bad. You shot my father. You’re a fucking filthy cop.’ One hand wrapped around Lexie’s jaw and squeezed, roughly pulling her to her feet. Perfectly manicured fingernails dug into the skin of her cheeks. The pain was nothing compared to the surging tide of fear rising inside her. Tiffany’s face was inches from her own. Her breath was rancid like her soul and made Lexie want to retch. The gun was now being jabbed against her stomach. She threw her hands in the air.

  ‘Okay, I’ll cut the bullshit,’ Lexie said through her clamped teeth. ‘I shot your father because he stabbed me, was going to kill me. What I’d like to know is why you’re going out of your way to help a man who treated you like shit. Rocco told me—’

  ‘Rocco would not tell you anything!’ Tiffany shrieked. Her voice was manic. Just the suggestion of Rocco’s disloyalty had pricked a nerve. ‘Oh man . . . he is going to be so pissed when he finds out you’re a fake.’

  ‘Rocco told me about your life, how hard it was,’ Lexie continued. She tried to make her face display a sympathy she didn’t feel. She didn’t know where she was going with this. All she knew was she had to keep talking. Distract Tiffany.

  Tiffany narrowed her eyes. ‘Rocco would never do that—’

  ‘Well then, how do I know you used to be Teddy Johnson?’ Lexie was lying, but Tiffany didn’t know that. ‘How do I know you grew up next door to Rocco? How do I know Amitt Vincent is your father and treated you badly?’

  Tiffany jerked back as though stung, dropping her hand from Lexie’s jaw.

  There was only a small space between them. Lexie considered trying to kick the gun out of her hands. She would have to be lightning quick. As though reading her mind, Tiffany stepped back and leant against the boathouse doors, increasing the distance between them.

  ‘Why don’t you just let him rot in gaol? You’re living the dream: you have your father’s money, his beautiful house and a job you love. Don’t you think that will all change if he’s released from prison? He’ll take over and the abuse will start again. Does he know you’re living as a woman? I can’t see Amitt Vincent as the supportive type, letting you make your own choices.’

  Tiffany waved the gun around like it was a magic wand. ‘Our relationship is none of your business. It’s complicated, but he’s my father.’

  Keep her talking. Was that her voice in her head, or her brother’s?

  ‘If you kill me, Tiffany, the whole of the New South Wales Police Force will be after you. Police don’t like people killing their own. Be
ing an associate of drug dealers is one thing – something you can get out of,’ she lied. ‘Being a cop killer is a whole other world of hurt. You’ll go to prison, be separated from Rocco, who will be rotting in a different prison. And I don’t think you would fare real well inside, Tiffany. You would be a target, attacked, ridiculed, raped. But you can still get out of this. You’ve done nothing wrong . . . yet.’

  Lexie purposely feigned ignorance about the Assassins bombing. She had to convince Tiffany she still had a chance of redemption. She had to outsmart her.

  ‘If I die, your father will be the first suspect. Since he’s in gaol, you will be the next.’ To Lexie’s astonishment, Tiffany appeared to be listening. She could almost hear her brain ticking over, considering the implications, her prospects. ‘Killing me is not going to make this all go away. I’m not working alone. Other police know what’s happening.’

  Lexie didn’t mention the imminent raid. She couldn’t risk spooking Tiffany; she might just shoot her to get it over and done with.

  ‘It’s not too late for you, Tiffany. If you assist police, you could strike a deal and—’

  ‘Dog on my friends, you mean.’ Tiffany’s tone was venomous; her demeanour radiated aggression. ‘You won’t get the drugs, you know. Shadow will be long gone by now. When Berni told me you were a cop, I knew you’d be after the drugs, so I sent him a message.’ Tiffany laughed, proud of herself. She’d thought of everything. ‘Without the drugs, the police have nothing. And without you, the case falls apart completely.’

  Fucking Berni. How had she picked her?

  ‘It doesn’t work that way, Tiffany. If you kill me, your friends will still be charged with drug offences and go to gaol. We have evidence. But as I keep telling you, you’re not being looked at for drugs. You can choose to go down with them or help police and live the life you have always wanted.’

  Lexie glimpsed doubt and concern in Tiffany’s eyes. She felt the slightest flutter of hope, but it was short-lived.