She knew she had to move. But each tiny movement was agony and caused more dirt to fall into her mouth and eyes. Sandy brushed at the blanket of soil sprinkled across her face until it was cleared. Slowly she opened one eye, then the other. Her vision was blurred but she realised it was dark. As she tried to lift her head, pain exploded like shards of tiny icicles piercing through her brain. She bit down on her lip, whimpering, as tears streamed down her face.
Crying is not going to help.
Sandy didn’t know how long it took − she was pretty sure she was fading in and out of consciousness − but gradually, fighting off nausea and incessant waves of dizziness, she managed to tilt her head back far enough to look up at the night sky. She could see stars scattered around a dull moon. Treetops swayed above her, tilting shadows back and forth. She listened; she could hear birds and ducks chattering. They sounded close. There was the sound of distant traffic. Where the hell was she? She willed herself to think clearly, prayed for her mind to remember.
But the pain was all-consuming. She just wanted it to stop so she could fight. But it was taking over; dragging her under. Unwillingly, she surrendered to the darkness.
—
The next time Sandy woke she was cold, really cold. She could hardly feel her hands or her feet. Her ribs ached so badly she shifted position, trying to take some weight off. Her head spun. She tried to open her eyes but could only manage one. The other eye felt stuck or maybe it was too swollen for her eyelid to part. It was still night but the moon shone brighter. She had no concept of time or how long she had been lying there. Had it been minutes, hours or days?
Still on her side, she tried to move one leg. It felt like lead. She was suddenly hot, feverish, and the slightest movement caused her skin to break out in a film of perspiration. Or was that blood? She felt damp, as though she’d been swimming.
Sandy started to shiver and shake. Her muscles quivered, tensed, then her whole body began to vibrate. Fear shot like ice through her veins. What was happening? She saw flashes of light shoot across the sky. Her legs kicked out at nothing. She felt her eyes roll back in her head. Her body buckled. Her back arched, causing such excruciating pain it left her without breath. She gasped as her body convulsed. It felt like an earthquake was tearing through her insides.
Then it was over. Sandy’s exhausted body relaxed and the horrific sensations passed.
Fuck.
The thought of that happening again filled her with dread. She willed herself to live. There were those sounds of squawking again. It sounded like geese were only metres away.
She strained to listen; she could hear a bat cry out in distress. Then there was a splash, lots of chirping, and bird noises filled the otherwise silent darkness. Then reality came flooding back to her in a short burst of pain and memory.
She was still in Centennial Park. The man who had killed Bluey had summoned her here and Sandy had been a fool to come. He had probably thought he’d killed her, too. That would have been his intention all along, she now realised.
How stupid she had been to tell him what she knew. Selfish fear for her own existence had put Rowdy and the others in danger. She had to warn them. The Grub now knew his identity and he would be out to get rid of anyone else privy to that knowledge.
Remembering her mobile phone, she slowly edged one hand towards her back pocket. It was gone. There would be no calling for help. For a moment her hopes faded and she felt herself almost give up, but the memory of that spasm, or whatever it was she’d just experienced, sent a surge of adrenaline through her body and kick-started her brain.
If she could manage to drag herself out into the open, away from this cluster of trees she was hidden behind, then, in the daylight, someone would see her. She was sure of it. And although the pain was beyond her worst nightmare, Sandy wanted to live more than ever and the thought of vengeance against the person who had done this to her was the one thing, besides Rowdy, that would keep her going.
Her survival would be the ultimate revenge.
Calling upon every ounce of strength she had, Sandy reached out and found what felt like the root of a tree. She grabbed onto it. Determinedly, inch by slow inch, she hauled herself forward in minute increments, out of the shallow ditch she’d been left to die in. She had no idea how long it took. Her body was almost numb. Her heartbeat was slow. She hoped that didn’t mean it was shutting down. And each time a new wave of convulsions shook her to the core, she stopped, waited for it to pass, and then kept going.
Every part of her was in agony; her lungs burned, her ribs ached, she could hardly stop coughing, she was overwhelmed with thirst, but she didn’t give up.
Sandy managed to drag herself to the duck pond, where she could go no further. She would rest for a while, she decided, have a break and wait for daylight.
Someone would find her. It would be all right.
CHAPTER 42
Once safely inside her unit, Lexie carried out her routine security check, this time with increased urgency. Once satisfied she was alone, that nothing had been disturbed and everything was locked, she stepped out into the darkness of her tiny balcony and peered out, over the tops of dimly lit houses, towards the beach she could hear rather than see.
The waves in the distance crashed against the shore. She breathed in the refreshing smell of salt water as the sea breeze brushed across her skin and tangled her hair. Normally Lexie loved the sounds and smells of the ocean. The beachside community below her balcony gave her a sense of of belonging, even if the connection from a distance was as close as she got to being neighbourly. Yet tonight, while she waited for the usual sense of calm to wash over her, Lexie found herself scanning the shadows and monitoring parked cars for movement inside. She couldn’t stop wondering if somebody was watching her. Though if they were, she would probably never know it; unless of course they decided to make themselves known.
An involuntary shiver raced along her skin and she came inside, locking the sliding glass doors behind her. Stripping off her clothes, she threw them into the laundry basket and placed her gun in her handbag as she made her way to the bathroom. The hot water felt like needles against her skin as she tried to scrub herself numb. She was exhausted. Not just from lack of sleep. She was also feeling sorry for herself, which made Lexie really angry. Sometimes she felt anger was the only thing that made her feel alive, that kept her going.
She was furious with Amitt Vincent for making her a victim, making her live in constant fear. She was livid with her brother for dying; her ex-husband for cheating on her; her parents for giving up. Lexie hated feeling powerless to stop her nightmares from taking over her life. She was over trying to control her future, her emotions. She was sick of trying to prove to herself and everyone else she could cope.
Stop being pathetic.
Realising she was trembling from the inside out, Lexie took a deep breath and reasoned with herself. What she needed to do was embrace her anger. Use it to her advantage, become empowered by it and allow it to make her strong.
The water started to turn cold, the spray sending goose bumps along her skin. Lexie got out and dried herself. She threw on white cotton drawstring pants, a black singlet top and twisted her hair into a messy bun at the back of her head. She craved a drink to calm her nerves and dispel the sense of dread that seemed to pervade each corner of her apartment. Giving in to that craving, she padded across the cool floorboards into her small but tidy kitchen. Plucking a bottle of wine from the fridge and a glass from her cupboard, she carried them into the lounge room.
The unit was hot from being closed up all day and she wondered if she should re-open the balcony doors to let in the sea breeze.
It’s okay, you’re on the first floor. No one other than Spiderman can scale the brick wall, climb onto the balcony and attack you.
She opened the doors and then perched on the edge of the sofa. After pouring the wine she realised she was hungry, having missed out on the pizza at the pub. She ordered some Thai for dinn
er, making sure she got enough to last her tomorrow night as well. She would have no time to shop, so it looked as though she’d be living on takeaway for the next few days.
There was a knock on the door.
Lexie jumped, almost spilling her wine down the front of her top. Instantly alert, she grabbed her handbag. Quickly reaching inside, she gripped the butt of the revolver.
‘Who is it?’ she called out through the wooden door. She really should install a peephole, she thought.
‘It’s me, Lexie. It’s Josh.’
Oh great!
She let go of the gun, pushed it to the bottom of her bag and kicked it behind the door as she opened it.
Josh stared at her.
‘Can I come in?’ he asked, hesitantly.
Just looking at him made that lonely, empty hole Lexie had noticed inside herself lately, expand and take shape. A feeling of sadness engulfed her and threatened to smother her in its irrational intensity. She reminded herself to stay angry.
‘Can I come in, Lexie?’ Josh asked again. ‘I’d like to explain.’
She looked around as if searching for an escape and then, unable to find any logical reason to deny him entry, stood aside and let him in.
‘Nice place,’ he said glancing around the living area. ‘I like the way you’ve done it up, the Indonesian feel.’
‘Thanks.’
Her voice was cold.
He turned to face her. ‘You left without saying goodbye.’
She stared at him, willing her heart to stop racing.
‘Is that why you found out where I live and came to see me; because I didn’t say goodbye to you? Maybe I didn’t say goodbye because you were otherwise occupied with your girlfriend.’
Lexie tried but failed to keep the accusation out of her voice.
Josh shook his head and glanced at the floor.
‘She is not my girlfriend, Lexie, and I’m guessing you saw her kiss me. I didn’t kiss her back.’
‘You don’t have to justify anything to me, Josh,’ Lexie began to protest.
She wanted to stay angry. She was still angry but what was the point in pretending she didn’t care? Who was she fooling? Certainly not herself.
‘I’d still like to explain,’ Josh said.
Lexie gestured for him to take a seat on the lounge and he sat down stiffly. She took the lounge opposite. Reaching for her drink on the coffee table, she took a tentative sip, hoping it would calm the churning in her stomach.
When she noticed Josh staring at the glass of wine, she suddenly remembered her manners.
‘Would you like one?’
‘That would be great,’ he said, waiting for her to return from the kitchen with a glass.
Lexie poured the wine and watched Josh gulp greedily. It was the first time she had seen him look anything less than confident and she found this uncertain Josh Harrison a bit disconcerting. Her own vulnerability was already a tremendous liability – she couldn’t handle his as well.
Josh began. ‘Look, Lexie, I’m not good at this . . .’
He focused his gaze out through the balcony doors and into the darkness outside.
‘That girl you saw me talking to was never my girlfriend. We had a casual . . . fling, I guess you could call it. She thought it was more than what it was. I froze when she kissed me. She took me by surprise.’
Was that the best he could do? Josh was right. He wasn’t good at this.
He glanced at Lexie momentarily before returning his gaze to the darkness outside. It seemed he was unable to meet her eyes.
‘I can talk bullshit to any crook on the street, that’s what I’m good at. But when it comes to talking about anything personal, anything to do with feelings, emotions, I’m hopeless.’
He took another big gulp of wine.
‘I suppose you could say I’m an expert at rebuffing intimacy. I’m thirty-one and I haven’t had a serious relationship since my ex-girlfriend dumped me in the middle of Italy almost ten years ago.’
‘Is that why you apologised for kissing me? I thought you must have been feeling guilty, but if she wasn’t your girlfriend and that wasn’t the case, why did you regret it? Did you think I’d expect a relationship from one kiss?’
Josh let out a strange laugh.
‘Not at all. I don’t regret kissing you for one moment. I got the impression that’s what you wanted – to forget about it.’
He seemed to wait for her to speak. When she didn’t, he continued.
‘You know what us hard-nosed detectives are like with displays of emotion.’
He gave her a sheepish grin as though embarrassed he’d given too much away.
The anger she was trying hard to hold on to started to evaporate. The hole in Lexie’s heart began to mend a fraction. She forced herself to breathe as she sipped on her wine and studied Josh, who was draining the remnants of his glass.
He was remarkably handsome with classic features; strong jaw, sensuous lips, dark hair against olive skin. But it was more than just his looks she found so attractive. It was more than those piercing green eyes that made her go weak at the knees. It was the way he looked at her, as though she were the only person in the world; as if he could see clear into her very soul. She felt that if he were to go away she would never feel alive again. He made her want to feel whole again. As much as this realisation astounded and delighted her, it also terrified her, to her very core.
‘Lexie, you seem incredibly strong and independent. All the women in my family are quite the opposite. I hate to admit it but I think your strength intimidates me a bit.’
‘Is that why you hardly spoke to me until we were forced to work together? I was actually thinking you didn’t like me.’
Josh rolled his eyes at her.
‘Yeah, right. I know I can be stand-offish at the best of times but the main reason I kept my distance was because you seemed so confident and self-assured. Besides, from the moment you walked into the office you were swarmed. It was like bees to a honeypot. I didn’t want you thinking I was just another fool falling all over themselves to get your attention.’
‘It hadn’t even crossed my mind. But let me say, you seem pretty cool and self-assured yourself.’
Josh shrugged, seemingly not knowing what else to say.
‘I suppose we all have our little roles we play,’ Lexie said after a pause, playing with the stem of her glass.
‘I’m not playing any role right now. This is really hard for me, talking like this, and I can assure you I’ve never done this before. It’s very . . . personal.’
Lexie felt the last remnants of anger towards Josh disappear from her body. In its place was a new feeling.
‘You think this is personal?’ she asked, refilling their wine glasses.
Josh stared at her. ‘Don’t you?’
Lexie smiled sweetly at him.
‘Well, since we’re talking personal, I have a question for you . . . I want to know what happened with Burgh. I want to know why you hate him so much.’
CHAPTER 43
Josh felt the blood drain from his body. Of all the questions Lexie could have asked, why had she chosen that one?
Like a lot of cops, Josh didn’t like to give too much away. He wasn’t the type of man to share his thoughts or feelings easily. Not only because he found them hard to verbalise, but also because it left him open, exposed, vulnerable. And he hated that. Though tonight, even he was astonished at how much alcohol had loosened his tongue and provided the extra courage he needed to at least partially express himself.
‘I hope you have more wine,’ he sighed. ‘I don’t even know where to start.’
Lexie nodded. ‘There’s more in the fridge. And start at the beginning.’
She was staring at him expectantly so he took a deep breath and cleared his throat.
‘Harry Burgh and I go way back.’
He propped one ankle on his opposite knee and pushed back against the lounge in an attempt to get comfortable. Taking a
sip of wine, he balanced the glass on his leg, holding the stem with one hand. His eyes focused on the floor in front of him.
‘Before I won my sergeant’s position at Bondi Junction I was originally stationed at Newtown. I went to plain-clothes there, got my detective’s designation and then won a permanent position at Balmain. As luck would have it, one of my mates from my detective’s course also won a spot in the detectives unit at Balmain.’
‘We were very junior and pretty cocky back then; thought we were pretty shit-hot, actually.’
He laughed, thinking back to how important he’d considered himself to be accepted into the elite world of criminal investigation.
‘I was lucky. I got partnered with Hughesy who was a great bloke. But poor old Hollywood – I called him that because he looked like a movie star – got lumbered with Harry Burgh. He wasn’t overly thrilled about it but unlike these days, where everyone complains about everything, back then you just had to shut your mouth and suck it up.’
Lexie was nodding, encouraging him to continue. She looked a bit dazed and he wondered if the wine was going to her head.
‘Hollywood never said much,’ he continued. ‘He wasn’t the type to express himself.’
Josh laughed again, thinking for the first time they had been more alike than he’d realised.
‘He was more the silent, brooding type. That was part of his appeal, I guess, but I could tell he wasn’t happy, you know?’
‘Why wasn’t he happy?’ Lexie asked, softly.
‘Over a period of time a number of guns, hat badges and police identifications went missing from the station. Money got taken from wallets and purses. If you left stuff lying around, it grew legs and walked away. The guns, hat badges and IDs are worth big money on the black market. Clearly it had to have been an inside job. We all got interrogated by internal affairs but as soon as they put their cameras in the station the stealing stopped. No one was ever found accountable, even after a lengthy investigation. As you can imagine, it didn’t do much for morale.’
It had been a terrible time. The usual camaraderie within the station dissolved as everyone became suspicious of each other. People started to speculate as to who was responsible, rumours spread, cops began to turn on each other. During this time Josh had watched Hollywood become more and more withdrawn and removed.
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