Darklands Book 2: Something Wild This Way Comes

by Autumn Dawn

  "So why did you come back?"

  "Intuition.” Welch shrugged. “Nah, actually I didn't know what else to do. Got the odd sighting of her SUV from places where I had feelers, but by the time I got to where she was supposed to be, she'd moved on. She was paying cash, so there wasn't even a fuckin’ paper trail for me to follow."

  He'd been pissed off at Camille's foresight. “Trouble with all these TV cop shows is that it gives people ideas. She seemed to be driving over the whole state. Couldn't work out why. Anyway, finally I gave up, and headed back here. Bingo!” He grinned at the memory of his success. “Didn't want to ask around any more in case people started getting suspicious so I parked out in the forest and walked to granny's old cottage. There was the Honda sitting right outside. She was inside with the bub."

  "And all Lord wanted you to do was watch?"

  Welch shrugged. “Yep. Bit weird. I assumed he would want the kid back, but he never suggested I snatch it or nothing. Not that I would have,” he added hastily, seeing Donnelly's darkening face. “In fact, he hardly asked after the kid. Seemed more angry that she'd taken it, than he was concerned about getting it back. Who can tell with rich folk? Law unto themselves.” He half laughed, hoping Donnelly would share the joke but the cop just stood there, eyeing him coolly.

  "So, I haven't done anything,” he said pleadingly.

  "I wouldn't say that.” The cop unfolded his arms and Welch backed up, just in case. “You terrorized a young woman and a baby. I wouldn't call that nothing. You called her late at night and then hung up. I'd definitely describe that as harassment—if not worse."

  Welch gaped. He hadn't phoned anyone except Lord. “The phone calls weren't me. Anyway, you have no proof. I'm careful like that.” It was as much a question as a statement.

  "I'm sure I could find something if necessary,” Donnelly said coldly, his gaze making Welch shiver.

  "Yes, that's right.” Welch's voice started to shake. “You're supposed to uphold the law but you cops don't mind planting evidence where you need to. I know how it works.” His voice had started to rise hysterically.

  The cop held up a hand. “Shut it, mate. Now, here's what we're going to do. Or at least what we're going to do with you.” He paused. “Lord's booted you off the job, so I suggest you get back to Sydney, righto? You don't contact Lord. You have nothing to do with him. Forget he ever hired you."

  "But what about my money?” Welch whined. “We agreed six hundred a day. He owes me for the last two weeks."

  "I said no more contact and I meant it,” said the cop, his face grim. “And while we're at it, where is he?"

  Welch shrugged. “How would I know? I expect he's in Melbourne although he has interstate meetings from time to time. I contact him on his mobile."

  "What's the number?"

  Welch eyed him speculatively for a moment, wondering if he could push the cop for some cash, seeing as how it was unlikely he'd see any pay for the past fortnight's work. He was always chasing creditors and he got the feeling Lord wasn't going to be the first client to pay up without any hassle. The cop's face was still grim so he decided to leave well alone. He sighed and recited the number and watched as the cop keyed it into his own mobile.

  "Can I go now?” he said, edging his hand toward the door handle.

  The cop stuck his face close to Welch's so Frank could see the muscle ticking beside his grim mouth. “Get the hell out of here, and if word gets back to me that you've had any contact with Lord, I'll be on your doorstep. Right?"

  Welch nodded and slid into his car, eyeing the cop with dislike now he was behind the wheel. Jesus! Clients and cops. There must be an easier way to make a living, he thought as he wheeled the car around and drove down the street. Quite frankly, he was delighted to leave this shit-hole.

  * * * *

  Nathan watched the Ford until it was out of sight. As he walked back to the Landcruiser, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket, flipping it open. He dialed Lord's number and listened for a minute until he was switched through to Voicemail. Where the hell was the bastard?

  From what he'd heard about Lord, the guy wasn't the type to get his hands dirty. No, he liked to pull the strings from afar but he wouldn't risk everything by heading down here and confronting Camille himself. Would he?

  But with Welch out of the picture, Lord had lost his man on the ground, his information source. He'd either have to get someone else in here quick or handle the situation himself. Maybe he was arrogant enough to think he could do it and Camille had been convinced he was heading this way.

  Whatever, there were too many unknowns about Lord, and as a cop, Nathan knew that the root cause of most fuck-ups was wrong assumptions. Right now, the only thing that was safe to assume was that the guy would go to any lengths to take his revenge on Camille, and that meant Nathan's priority had to be her safety and the baby's.

  Decided, he slid back in the Landcruiser, gunned the engine and headed back towards World's End.

  * * * *

  Camille rubbed the Elizabeth's belly until the little girl's breathing was deep and even. For once she wasn't snoring. Camille had brought her capsule in from the car so the child could take a nap. It wasn't the most comfortable bed for sleeping in but the baby was exhausted after an hour of playing with Jason and Michael.

  She could see the two cops through the open door of Nathan's office. They'd seemed much more interested in giving the baby piggybacks or throwing her up and down in the air than they were in their paperwork. Finally, though, she'd told them that the baby needed a bottle and a rest, and the young men had regretfully trudged to their desks.

  Camille smiled to herself. She didn't think Nathan would be particularly impressed if he found out what his young constables had been up to. She glanced at her watch and wondered where Nathan was and what was happening. She hated being in limbo like this. Not that she didn't trust him, she would just rather be doing something.

  She wondered if he had Lord and tried not to cringe at the thought of seeing her brother-in-law if Nathan brought him back to the station. She didn't want to think about it, not until she was forced to, so she pulled the strange little book from her bag and stared at the cover for long moments before opening it.

  Camille flicked through it, nothing much catching her attention until she got to Protection. There was a list of protective plants, but that wasn't much good to her here, unless Rowan was on her way with something useful. Fumigation was supposedly a way of cleansing a place of something dark, but how you were supposed to fumigate a complete town, she wasn't sure.

  She turned another couple of pages. Achieving inner calm was supposed to be useful, albeit totally impossible right now. Camille sighed. Meditation and yoga she approved of, but she didn't quite see how they were supposed to help her current predicament. Talismans. That looked more promising, but they needed to be consecrated to have much effect. A few more pages flicked past. Spells. Her heart thumped. That was it. That was what Rowan had been doing that morning she'd gone to Raven's Wood. How did it go? She racked her brain to think of the words.

  "Great Mother Goddess, hear us this night,

  Please help us in our terrible plight,

  The dark one has come amongst us once again,

  To...."

  She heard the radio crackle to life, and sprang to her feet. She leaned in the doorway of Nathan's office as Michael answered the call.

  "Dawes,” he said. He listened for a minute, nodding. “Right, Allison. Thanks. I'll let her know."

  Camille's heart thumped in her chest as Michael turned to her with a smile.

  "That was Traffic. They just had a call. Apparently the boss has apprehended the suspect."

  Camille felt a wave of relief rush through her and let out a deep breath as the weight of the pressure she'd been living under began to seep from her shoulders. “What else did they say?"

  Michael shrugged. “Just that everything's under control so you can stop worrying. The boss says he'll meet you
at the cottage in ten minutes. He'll explain everything there."

  Camille grinned back at him. “I suppose he'll have someone bring Lord to the station so he'll want me out of the way.” She grabbed her bag and then stooped to pick up the baby capsule where Elizabeth now snored loudly.

  Thank heavens it was over. She couldn't wait to see Nathan. Now Lord was in custody, they could ... she stopped herself. She just wanted to see Nathan. Whatever happened between them after that, she'd find out soon enough.

  * * * *

  Rowan hurried toward her car, a heavy tank of a Volvo, which Max had insisted she buy last year after a vicious storm conjured by the dark one had forced her off the road and into a head-on collision with a tree. Apart from a bump on the head, she'd emerged unscathed, but she'd taken the warning seriously. Now the dark one was back for more, this time acting through Camille Aston's brother-in-law.

  She was glad that Nathan was on the case, but she had doubts as to whether either Nathan or Camille herself realized exactly what they were involved in. She squeezed herself behind the wheel and started the engine. Glancing out toward the sea, she saw the hazy blanket of afternoon sky above it, lit with eerie lights. Muttering an oft-repeated plea to the Goddess for assistance, she gripped the wheel and headed down the hill toward World's End. She had an overpowering feeling that Camille and Nathan needed her.

  * * * *

  Your days in hiding are over for good, Camille thought. No more running and hiding. No more silent phone calls. No more fearful glances behind her to see who might be following. She could take the damned pebble off the gate. She could talk freely again. She could go back to Sydney and resume her life without fear, hopefully with Elizabeth a permanent part of it.

  And Nathan.

  A wave of longing went through her at the thought of having him in her life, not for just one night. If he wanted that too, maybe she wouldn't go back to Sydney. She would have to investigate the possibilities of running her design business from World's End—not ideal, but possible.

  She couldn't stop smiling as she drove through World's End. She waved to Noelene who was locking up the shop for lunch. From now on, she wouldn't need to hold back from building relationships with the locals. She could talk to whoever she wanted without watching every word.

  Humming to herself as she pulled onto the main road, she wondered if Nathan would be at the cottage waiting for her. Maybe they could have an hour or so at the beach before the tide rose too far. Then she laughed at herself for the crazy thought. He'd probably have a mountain of paperwork to deal with, arresting someone high profile like Lord. Her brother-in-law would know every legal trick in the book, and wouldn't hesitate to use them.

  Nathan would probably be tied up until midnight sorting it all out, and he'd definitely need an official statement from Camille. She assumed that would have to take place at the station. She frowned, wondering if the constable had got the message right. Perhaps Nathan hadn't meant for her to go the cottage at all.

  She decided to head back to town and flicked on her indicator, glancing in her sideview mirror as she did so. A black Mercedes filled her view, large and menacing as it bore down on her much smaller car. Lord. Terror gripped her and she clutched the wheel, pulling the Honda away from the Mercedes with a screech of tires. It followed her path, closing in on her like a vast black bird of prey. There was a fearful clash of metal as the Mercedes sideswiped her. Camille's hands slipped from the wheel as the other car used its superior power to drive her onto the gravel shoulder. She cried out as the forest loomed in front of her and slammed her foot on the brake.

  The tires skidded and then held as the Honda lurched to a sudden stop. Camille heard only the sounds of her panting breath. Elizabeth started to scream and Camille automatically muttered soothing words, trying to turn her head to see the baby but her neck hurt so much from the whiplash, she had to bite her lip.

  "Shh,” she whispered to Elizabeth, trying to calm the frantic baby. “Just give me a minute and I'll get you out."

  Camille groped along the door until she could feel the door handle. She didn't want to have to turn her head any more than absolutely necessary or she felt it might come apart from her neck. She winced as the door lock clicked open, and then suddenly the door was wrenched away from her and she felt herself falling from the car.

  She gasped as she landed heavily in the gravel at the side of the road. Her jeans protected her knees but her hands weren't so lucky. They stung with a thousand pinpricks, complementing the twinge in her neck. From the corner of her eye, she could see a pair of highly polished shoes topped with the legs of light slacks. The shoes looked incongruous in this dusty lane. Expensive, gleaming.

  A hurtful male hand with a Rolex around the wrist grasped her arm, hauling her upward. She staggered as she tried to find her balance. Her eyes flared open as she turned to face the man. A reedy sound of dread left her mouth when she looked into the cold pale eyes of Malcolm Lord.

  A sneer twisted his thin mouth in an approximation of a smile as he ran a dismissive eye over her. Impeccably dressed in light pants and a dark blazer, a striped shirt open at the neck, he looked like he was on his way to a garden party. Camille knew how she must have looked to him with her pale, unmade-up face, hands scratched and oozing with blood. She gripped the car door to steady herself.

  "You've let yourself go, Camille.” His voice suggested she was the lowest form of life. “You used to have class until you took up with that policeman."

  Nathan! Camille thought. Had Lord done something to Nathan?

  Her brother-in-law was continuing. “With Verity gone, you could have had it all, you know. Wealth, prestige, my name."

  Camille felt pure rage rise through her like a tidal wave at the mention of her sister. “You're crazy to think I'd ever want anything to do with you,” she spat. “I know what you did to her, you bastard."

  Lord looked surprised and then laughed. “What do you know?” He raised his eyebrows, challenging at her. “You didn't hang around for the results of the autopsy, did you?"

  "Oh, let me guess.” Camille knew she should avoid provoking him, but the memory of her sister's poor battered body was indelibly marked in her brain. “Not suicide, by any chance?"

  Lord looked suddenly sad. “Poor Verity. She was depressed, you know. Didn't cope with her pregnancy at all well. Hated the weight gain, the nausea. She was so used to being slim, lovely, but the pregnancy drained her of her vitality. She turned into a slovenly fishwife. It was embarrassing to be seen with her. What could I do?"

  "I'm sure you did everything you could to reassure her that she was still beautiful. That you loved her.” Camille's voice dripped with sarcasm. She remembered Verity after she'd just given birth. Her blonde hair needed a cut and fresh highlights and her face was a little puffy but she had still been gorgeous.

  "What do you know?” Lord sneered. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a gleaming handgun, his finger stroking the trigger lovingly. “Arrogant bitch. I know you always looked down at me. Whenever I had to correct Verity, she'd throw your name in my face. What do you have? A business which just about breaks even. A shabby, hand-me-down cottage. And now you're screwing a policeman. I could never understand why Verity put you on such a pedestal."

  Camille was stunned. She'd had no idea.

  "I gave her wealth, a huge house,” Lord continued. She had her own top-of-the-range BMW. Social standing. Everything I could give her. But she always idolized you. Your independence. Always threw it in my face. She said she could have her independence, too. Follow your example. I told her I'd make sure she ended up without a penny to her name if she contacted you,” he snarled. “That gave her a scare, the thought of having no money. Then she decided to get pregnant and wanted to play happy families. As if I would want someone with a bloated body.” He shuddered.

  Camille's breath caught in her throat as his eyes stopped wandering and focused on the gun in his hand. All the anger suddenly went out of her now tha
t he'd admitted his relationship with Verity had been on the rocks. Now there was a motive for murder. But if Verity's death had been deliberate, it meant that she and Elizabeth were in grave danger. She needed to find Nathan, and surreptitiously felt in her pocket for her cell phone, drawing it carefully into her hand. She ran her fingers over the buttons, before carefully locating her stored numbers. She wouldn't be able to speak but if she kept the line open, maybe Nathan could trace it.

  "...she was no good to me anymore. What else could I do?” Lord muttered. He looked vaguely at her and frowned. “What are you doing?” His voice rose angrily. “Let me see!"

  He grabbed the phone from her as it was still dialing. Camille lunged at it—it was her and Elizabeth's lifeline—and Lord reared back. He dropped the phone and lashed out at her with his gun hand, catching her with a vicious blow across the side of the head. Camille was thrown back against the car seat where she lay for a moment trying to catch her breath. Everything was dark and shadowy, and she had to shake her head to clear the buzzing sound.

  Then Lord wrenched her up again. “You're more like your sister than you know,” he spat. “She had to be disciplined, too."

  Camille stood up straight, focusing on trying not to faint. Her main mission now was to stay alive and keep Elizabeth safe. The baby had quieted after the shock of the crash and Camille didn't even want to look at her in case it drew Lord's attention to the child. He hadn't even mentioned Elizabeth and Camille didn't want to remind him.

  "What do you want?” Her voice was remarkably steady and she aimed to keep it that way. If she was calm, Lord was less likely to be upset.

  He lifted the gun and pointed it at her. His hand shook almost imperceptibly, and his eyes couldn't seem focus for long periods. He looked drunk but Camille knew that was impossible. Malcolm Lord hated losing control over anything, least of all himself.

  "Walk,” he instructed, waving the gun into the trees. “That way."

  Camille hesitated. She was reluctant to leave the baby alone with the car unlocked but surely someone would see her. They were barely off the main road and either the Honda or the Mercedes were definitely visible. A passing car was sure to stop, and if it didn't, Nathan would find Elizabeth sooner or later. No, it was better to get him away from the car. Go along with him and wait for an opportunity.