by Allie Little
Gemma pauses on the end of the phone. “I guess it’s possible,” she says, after thinking for a while. “Or else he’s simply showing the nastiness of his true colours.”
Riley motions from the beach, waving an arm at me. I make my way across the sand. “Gem, I’ve got to go, but can you call Gran? Could you let her know what’s happened and check she’s okay?”
“Sure thing, honey. Don’t worry about your gran. I’ll look after her while you’re god knows where.”
“Thank you. And don’t worry. I’m going to be fine. Honestly, I’m beginning to think Daniel needs serious psychiatric help.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” she replies, her tone acerbic. “A straightjacket and some ECT would do the trick nicely.”
“Don’t joke, honey. That might be exactly what he does need.”
Silence greets me from the other end of the line. “Be careful, Grace. If you truly believe that, then he sounds unbalanced. And if he is, there may be nothing you can do or say to reason with him. And that frightens me half to death.”
Riley starts nibbling at my ear, his arms circling me from behind.
“I hear you Gem, but I’ll be fine. Look, I’ve got to go, so I’ll call you when I can.”
Riley waits for me to end the call, swivelling me around so I face him. He plants a quick kiss on my lips, then drags me toward the shack.
“We have to go,” he says, urgency written across his face.
“Where to?”
“Brady.”
25
Riley
Brady’s office is dark. Full of aching mahogany and slim shafts of yellowing light filtering softly between the dusty venetians. If I’d imagined a private investigator’s office, this would be it. A faded Persian rug lies prostrate over the dirty timber floor, the desk above it an ancient relic of times past. A bookcase in the corner, glass-fronted, is filled with textbooks and papers so old they resemble brittle parchment.
Brady rises from his desk and holds out a hand. “Mate, good to see you,” he starts, motioning at the Chesterfield lounge opposite. The leather is cracked and worn, and deceptively hard as you fall into it. He looks closely at Grace as she moves to sit down. “You don’t look so good, Gracie,” he says with a chuckle. “Got yourself into a bit of a bind, I hear?”
Grace’s hackles rise. Immediately defensive, she directs a prickly frown at Brady. “None of this is my doing.”
“You didn’t skip out of your marriage in the dead of night, without communicating your intentions to the guy?”
“Hey, ease up mate. That was unwarranted.” I sit forward on the uncomfortable lounge and give him a sharp stare.
“I certainly don’t need your judgement, Brady,” she huffs, making a pointed move to leave. “Your marriage being such a success.”
She swiftly gathers up her coat and handbag, but I grab for her arm. “Hang on sweets, give him a chance.”
“I’m not sure I want to. This is ridiculous. What can he do, anyway? It’s not as if he’s a police officer so he can’t arrest him. What good will come of it?”
“I can certainly give him a scare,” Brady offers, leisurely scratching at the stubble on his chin. “Gemma’s involved, and wherever my sister’s concerned, I’m happy to help. This guy vandalised her apartment and spooked you guys so bad you had to leave town.” He leans back on his chair. “And you’re right about my marriage. It was a fiasco. Wouldn’t recommend the institution to a living soul.”
Grace resumes her place beside me on the lounge, casting her shrewd eye over the man opposite. “So, what do you have in mind?”
Brady scratches at his nose. “Kneecapping. A couple of broken limbs. Your wish is my command. Wouldn’t do it personally but I know people who could take care of it.”
With an emphatic shake of her head, Grace looks Brady straight in the eyes. “No. Absolutely not. You are not to harm him.”
Brady raises both eyebrows with a smirk. “You care for him still?”
“Even if I did care for him, I wouldn’t wish to inflict physical pain on my worst enemy,” she says, a biting edge lacing her voice.
“Well, how about a sharp dose of reality? I can get my solicitor mate to draw up divorce papers and serve them. Reality has a way of blindsiding those who don’t wish to see.”
Grace ponders this, nodding slightly. “I guess that could work, although it hasn’t yet been twelve months since I left him.”
“Doesn’t really matter. Let’s get the ball rolling. Shake him up a bit. At the present time, he’s controlling your every move. We need to shift that.”
“I like the sound of that, mate. Without stating the obvious, it’s imperative that whatever we decide doesn’t put Grace in danger. Almost a full day ago, he gave us twenty-four hours. The time is ticking away and we have no idea what his next move may be. Or if we managed to throw him off the trail by hiding at Wreck Beach. But I’ll tell you this, that bastard isn’t getting anywhere near Grace.”
Grace shifts closer on the lounge and I run my arm around her shoulders. “I want you to find him, Brady. And I want you to make him stop. I can’t keep living my life this way. I need to be free.”
“You will be. Don’t you worry about a thing, Grace. Allow me to take care of everything.”
Concern washes over Grace’s pale features. “And remember what I said, Brady. Don’t hurt him.”
Battling to keep my cool, I pull her closer. Right now, I’d happily hurt the guy. Tear him limb from limb, if that’d end this. But that would be anger getting the better of me.
“I don’t think you need to be overly concerned. Harmless threats are probably what they are. The guy has no criminal history. No history of violence. He’s a cleanskin. Statistically, this sort of person doesn’t become dangerous overnight, but the worry is he escalates the behaviour. I’d say he’s attempting to scare you back home where he believes you rightfully belong. No chance of that, is there?”
Grace gives a silent shake of her head.
“People like him scare easy. I’ll take care of it so he never bothers you again. I’ll track him down and ruffle those fancy feathers. In the meantime, let’s use you as bait. We need to draw rich boy out.”
“Forget it. No way,” I growl, shaking my head at Brady sitting opposite with a smirk.
“It might be the only way. If Daniel’s clever, he will have covered his whereabouts. For all we know he could be right outside, having followed you lovely folk down from the Bay.”
Grace glances nervously over her shoulder. “I was worried about that.”
Brady directs his unsettling stare at me. “You need to get Grace somewhere he’d never suspect. Somewhere you’d be unlikely to go. Some place incongruous with what he knows of you.”
My first thought is the most hideous. Ugly. A place totally at odds with every fibre of my being. But could I do it? I was at war with my father. That fact was common knowledge. But I knew my mother would do anything for me. She’d give her life, I was sure of it. But to ask my father for anything? Bile rises like poison in my throat.
“You look pale, honey,” Grace says. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing, nothing at all,” I say, swallowing it down.
“You’ve had an idea?” Brady queries, raising an inquisitive brow. “Let’s hear it.”
“An idea, yes. Not sure it’s a good one though.”
“Those ideas are usually the best.” Brady tilts his head to the side. “Hit me with it.”
Riley hesitates for what seems an age. “We could stay at my father’s place.”
Grace looks at me as if I’m mad. “What? You can’t stand your father, and you’ve finally broken free. Why would we stay there?”
“Because my father and I hate each other. Daniel would never suspect we’d go there. I’m not comfortable with the idea, but maybe it’s the best we’ve got.”
“And then when you’re all calm and settled, and he’s nicely frustrated because he can’t get a trace o
n you, we’ll draw him out.” Brady contemplates this for a moment. “We use you as bait.”
“If it means this will end, I’m all for it.”
“Well I’m not,” I say, rising from the lounge and starting to pace. “I’m going to need a lot of convincing.”
“Settle down Riley and hear me out. Take a seat,” Brady instructs.
I roll my eyes, dropping into the Chesterfield beside Grace.
“Okay, Daniel is the classic case of the rejected stalker. He’s pissed off about Grace ending the relationship, possibly amplified by the fact she snuck off in the night. He’s embarrassed, humiliated, and has deluded ideas about his feelings being requited. Unfortunately, this type of stalker is the most persistent. The delusion propels him forward inexorably to the bitter end.”
Grace gives a shiver, drawing her cardigan around her body like a shield. “So tell me, Brady, how do we put a stop to it? You speak as if there’s an inevitability to the outcome here.”
“Not so, Grace. With intervention, we’ll break this before he gets to you.”
“You bloody better,” I fire back.
“Have you taken out a protection order?” Brady asks, looking at Grace.
She colours a little, shifting uncomfortably. “Um, no. I haven’t.”
“Because you felt you’d be betraying your husband?”
Grace nods.
“Another classic response. It’s very common for family members to shy away from taking action, but it sends a strong message that you mean business. And tells him that the behaviour is unacceptable.”
Grace hauls in a deep breath. “Okay, then. I’m ready. I want you to organise the divorce papers and take out an AVO.”
A chuckle rises from deep in Brady’s throat. “Good girl. That’ll get him nice and agitated. Don’t worry, we’ll catch him. In the meantime, sit tight at Riley’s parents’ place. I’ll be in touch with further instructions.”
“Still not happy, Brady. Nothing happens without my say-so.”
“Because running away to the Bay was so successful for you?” He gives a knowing laugh, hitching up his trousers as he rises from the desk. “Leave it with me, hero.”
Feeling as if I’d like to punch the guy right on the nose, I shuffle Grace from his office, imagining myself shrouded in white universal light just to calm the fuck down. “The guy’s a loose cannon,” I say at the car, opening the door for Grace.
She swivels around and on tiptoes kisses me right on the lips. Dragging her against me I hold her, hard. She buries herself into my sweater and wraps tense arms around my waist, body-hugging me like there’s no tomorrow.
“Everything will be okay, I promise you sweetness.”
She pulls back and her eyes meet mine, the depth of them shining with an otherworldliness.
“…And it’s time you met my mother.”
26
Grace
Pulling into the sandstone-clad driveway of the Atherton family home, a familiar foreboding sweeps through me. Imposing wrought iron gates swing back, revealing covered archways of climbing heritage roses and neatly trimmed box hedges bordering the path to the stained-oak door. Positioned high on the headland, the view isn’t particularly different to Gran’s. The ocean is imbued with a deep tint of orange, glistening across the surface as the sun drops quickly below the horizon to the west.
Riley reaches across from the driver’s seat and places his large, warm hand on my knee. Warmth spreads through me at his comforting touch.
“Your family home is beautiful.”
“It is now you’re here.”
I giggle softly. “You always know the right thing to say.”
“It’s the truth.” He pops his seatbelt, leaning across to brush his lips across mine, feather-like. “You ready? My mother is very excited.”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
He looks grave for a moment. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“Inflicting this on you. Particularly my father.”
“Don’t do that, Riley. I’m the one who’s sorry. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t even have to be here.”
“You know I’d do anything for you.”
Pulling him against me in the front seat of the car, I run my hands over his muscled back and up through his hair. “That’s what concerns me, but it means more than you know.”
He draws back and gives an appreciative smile, but it’s small, like he’s anticipating trouble on the other side of that old oak door. Pushing out of the car, the sea breeze hits clean through my chest like a cold, callous knifing. I drag my jacket closer against my body.
“Let’s get you inside.” He snakes an arm around my waist, guiding me forward.
The front door swings open, flooding the path with warm, golden light. A petite woman, dressed impeccably in a sharp linen suit waits quietly at the door. Her face is beautiful, etched with the lines of deep-set anxiety. An uneasiness betrays the smile which lights her face with genuine kindness.
Riley releases me to hug his mother. “Hey, Mum.”
“Riley,” she breathes. “It’s so good to see you, my beautiful boy.”
“It’s good to see you, too.”
“It’s been too long,” she reprimands. “I do understand why, though.” She turns her gaze to me. “And you must be Grace,” she says, drawing me into a hug. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you. I’m Annie.”
“It’s really lovely to meet you too, Annie.”
She delivers a wide smile, then ushers us inside and lowers her voice to a hoarse whisper. “Now, your father’s upstairs. I’ve told him you’ll be staying for a while. Just ignore his surly manner, Grace. He’s actually quite the pussycat.”
Riley snickers behind me. “If you say so.”
Annie turns and shoots Riley a frown. “Now don’t go colouring Grace’s impression before she’s even met your father.”
“Don’t worry, Mum. Wouldn’t dream of it. He’ll show his true colours soon enough,” he scoffs. “We’ll stay well out of his way.”
“I’ve prepared the guest quarters.” She looks straight at me. “You’ll be very comfortable down there. Stay as long as you’d like, sweetheart.” She pats me on the arm. “And just so you know, our security system is the best there is.”
“Thanks Annie, that’s very reassuring.”
“Now go on in by the fire and make yourself at home. I’ll put the kettle on and make a nice pot of tea.”
As Annie leaves for the kitchen, Riley drags me by the hand to the lounge room. A fire crackles quietly beneath the stone mantelpiece. The room is regal, dressed with drapes encasing the enormous arched windows framing the sea. A curved staircase descends beneath the loveliest crystal chandelier hanging from the pressed metal ceiling. And everything is white. The winged-back chairs, the super-soft lounge, even the rug hugging the floor. White orchids dot the room, giving the pristine space life. Gold gilts the patterned ceiling, with hints of the same hue mirrored in the cushions and lamps.
“Too much?” asks Riley, running his arms around my waist from behind. “It can be a little overwhelming at first.”
“It’s very beautiful, but I feel I shouldn’t touch anything, or even sit down. It’s all so … white.”
A sickening laugh permeates the room. “Well, well, what have we here? The prodigal son returns.” A distinguished man, imposing in presence, makes his way downstairs. He’s tall and well-dressed, with striking similarities in appearance to Riley. “I see you’ve found your way home again, with your oh-so-lovely girlfriend at your side.” He peruses me closely, nodding his approval, circling us in front of the fire like a vulture.
Riley tenses like a statue, clearly biting his tongue.
“I thought you’d disowned me, son. Weren’t they your final words? That I was … how did you so eloquently put it … on my own now?” He pours out a whiskey from the decanter on the sideboard and guzzles down a large swill. “And now here you are, expecting my help. Where
’s your backbone, son?”
Riley swallows his pride, perhaps for the sake of me and his mother. “Dad, this is Grace. We’ll only stay a couple of days. Grace, this is my father, Richard.”
Richard moves toward me, fixing his unnerving gaze on mine. He reaches for my hand, draws it to his lips and kisses it like some old-fashioned weirdo in the movies. “The pleasure is all mine, Grace. Feel free to stay as long as you’d like. My home is yours for as long as you need it.”
Swallowing nervously, I retract my hand. “Thank you, Richard.”
He nods in his dark, distinguished manner, then refocuses his attention back toward Riley. “As for you…,” he says with derision. “We need to talk. Later. Alone.”
Riley acknowledges this demand with a small nod, like a little boy lost. The fight has abandoned him in the stomach-turning presence of his father. Thankfully Annie returns, carrying a silver tray with a teapot and cups. Again, all white. She gracefully pours a steady stream of steaming amber liquid into three cups, then adds the milk. She holds one dainty teacup out in my direction.
“Here, darling. A nice hot cup of tea will do you the world of good.”
“Thanks, Annie.”
“Now drink up, and tell me what’s been going on.”
Riley proceeds to fill his mother in, the story accompanied by a series of horrified gasps and alarmed facial expressions on the parts of both parents. Annie looks decidedly aghast by the time Riley finishes.
“Well, all I can say is I’m glad you’ve involved this – what was his name? – Brady. If he’s related to Gemma, then he should be trustworthy.”
Richard gives a questioning raise of both eyebrows. “Rule number one in this world, son. Never trust anyone. Be your own source of scrutiny. To trust is to fail. The trust of the innocent is the liar’s most useful tool.”
“I guess you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you Dad?”
“You’d do well to heed my advice if you want to make something of yourself in this world.”