by JD Nixon
Muttering to myself, I picked Kylie up again, ignoring the protests from my back and shoulders. I had just stepped forward to trudge off when the sound of another vehicle approaching at a great speed also from the south broke through the dawn quiet. I put Kylie down again and turned, stepping out on to the road. I wasn’t going to give this person the chance to ignore me.
A frog-green hatchback came hurtling down the highway towards me and I groaned to myself in dismayed disbelief. You have to be kidding me, I thought. Still, a car was a car, even if it was being driven by a joyriding, unlicensed escapee from a mental health clinic. I waved my arms and once Martin recognised me, he screeched alarmingly to a stop, skidding the last fifty metres in the wet conditions, forcing me to jump out of the way or risk become bug splat on his windscreen.
Panting with exertion, I opened the back door and dragged Kylie’s limp body on to the back seat. Our wetness was going to make a mess in the car, but that was the least of my concerns. I moved around to the driver’s seat and opened the door.
“Hello, Officer Tess. What are you doing out in the rain?” asked Martin, smiling happily at me.
“Martin, I could kiss you right now,” I told him wearily. His smile grew larger. “Shove over.”
For once he didn’t demur and scooted over to the passenger seat obediently. I slipped behind the steering wheel, slammed the door and screeched off, tyres squealing.
“Turn the heating up to full blast, please,” I asked him, starting to shiver uncontrollably.
“It is already, Officer Tess.”
“Is it? I’m so c-c-c-cold.” My teeth began to chatter.
Martin babbled cheerfully about himself all the way into town. I didn’t listen, thinking about what to do next for Kylie. She needed urgent medical attention and I was wondering if I should just drive her straight to Dr Fenn at the prison. But when I drew near the police station there were patrol cars and unmarked cars parked everywhere. The station was in darkness, but every light was burning at the Sarge’s house. I drove past the station carpark entrance, instead turning into the police house driveway. I parked as close to the stairs as I could amongst all the other vehicles present.
I jumped out and opened the back door, hauling out Kylie and picking her up in my arms one last time. I teetered falteringly towards the house, my legs shaking with the effort. Nearly there, I told myself desperately, nearly there. Don’t stop now. Just a few more steps.
The sound of the car drew someone’s attention to the front of the house and an excited shout rang through the air.
“It’s Tessie!” shouted the voice, then into the house, “She’s back! She’s okay!”
Before I knew it, I was completely swarmed by people. Someone took Kylie from me and rushed her upstairs into the house and I was crushed by people surrounding me. Everyone was bombarding me with questions and shouting to each other and talking into their phones about me. I had five people all trying to hug me at the same time and another three yelling at me. I was overwhelmed by the attention.
“Get her inside out of the rain, you fucking morons,” the Super shouted, her growly, husky voice cutting through the rabble. “Her lips are blue. She’s probably hypothermic. Has anyone rung that prison doctor yet and told him to get his fucking arse over here ASAP? Someone call an ambulance too.”
People raced off to obey and I was swept inside, the next few minutes nothing but a confusing blur. I was assailed with questions and no sooner had I started to answer someone when someone else butted in, distracting me. I couldn’t concentrate on anything or anyone and I couldn’t stop shivering.
“I’m s-s-s-s-so c-c-c-c-cold,” I shivered, hugging myself, my teeth doing the Samba against each other. My whole body began to convulse with shivering.
The Super grabbed my arm and forcefully propelled me through the crowd, towards the bathroom. “Maguire,” she screamed over her shoulder. “Get Tessie some warm, dry clothes to change into.”
In the bathroom, with the door firmly locked, she helped me to strip off my wet clothes, leaving them in a soaking pile on the floor. While she turned on the shower for me, carefully adjusting the temperature, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. I wished that I hadn’t. I was palest white, my dark grey eyes virtually black in contrast, faint bruises where those men had backhanded me emerging on my face. My hair was a tangled wet mess, full of leaves and pieces of bark. Fiona was right – my lips had turned blue.
“I don’t know whether to kiss you or kick you, you stupid, crazy girl,” Fiona snapped tersely. “You’ve put us all through the wringer a hundred times over.”
“I’m s-s-s-s-sorry, F-F-F-F-Fiona,” I shivered as I stepped into the shower. The barely lukewarm water hit my frozen skin as if it was scalding.
“It’s too hot!” I screamed in pain, trying to jump out again.
“Stay in there,” she ordered, cruelly pushing me back under the tepid stream. I tried to escape a couple more times, shrieking loudly, but she had a tight grip on my arm. Someone anxiously banged on the bathroom door and Fiona yelled at them to piss off. She held me in place until eventually the water heated my body and I could appreciate its warmth. A few minutes later and I had turned the heat up a little and was able to start washing myself and my hair, the feeling returned to my limbs.
A soft knock took the Super to the door, and after a brief murmured conversation, she returned and placed a pile of clothes on the vanity. I stayed in the shower, not wanting to ever get out, but Kylie was in need too.
“I better get out so that Kylie can have her turn,” I said reluctantly, lathering up my hair again, wincing every time my busted finger touched the tender place where I’d been whacked on the head.
“Don’t worry about her. The prison doctor is here looking after her and an ambulance is on its way. Besides, the forensics team will want to keep her unwashed at this stage for evidential purposes. Not that there will be much evidence left after being out in the rain for so long.”
Of course – I should have realised that, but I just didn’t seem to be able to think straight. “Poor girl. The things those men did to her. I got there just in time. I’m positive they would have killed her.”
“Tessie . . .” She sighed wearily, but said no more, testament to her great self-control.
Eventually, I dragged myself out of the shower and dried off, changing into the clean, dry, warm clothes. Apart from the underwear, which was mine, all of the other clothes belonged to the Sarge. I pulled on his thick woollen socks while the Super gently combed and then blow-dried my hair for me. It was a touching rare domestic moment between us. She leaned down to kiss me on the top of my head when she’d finished, showing just how much my disappearance had shaken her. We locked eyes in the mirror, and I blinked away the tears that sprang into mine before I noticed that she was doing the same.
“Dammit, Tessie,” she complained softly. “You’ve made me blubber like an Oscar winner and you know I fucking hate that.”
“I’m so sorry, Fiona,” I rued, and then spent the next ten minutes saying the same thing to everyone who spoke to me. I’d been in the shower for so long that most of the people who were at the house when I’d arrived back had since drifted off, or more likely had been ordered back to Big Town. That was fine by me, because it had been too crowded and simply too much to handle. But the ones who remained were those most difficult to face. After I thanked and hugged everyone (even Bum), I looked around, missing an important person.
“Where’s the Sarge?” I asked.
Chapter 27
He was in the kitchen preparing some food for me, his profile stony and grimly unapproachable. He chopped an onion with unwarranted and reckless passion, his expensive Japanese knife wielded with much skill, but even more anger. I stood in the doorway watching him for a few moments, unsure of what my greeting would be, concerned for the safety of his fingers.
He glanced up from chopping and noticed me, his blue eyes even darker than normal. His face was drawn with
tiredness and anxiety and his clothes were crumpled as if he’d only managed to catch a few hours sleep while still wearing them.
“I’m home. Safe and sound,” I said brightly, the illusion of lightheartedness spoiled by my voice wobbling with unexpected nerves.
He turned his head back to the food on the bench and threw down the knife with little care for its well-honed edge. He slammed his palms flat on the bench and stood staring down at those onions, his chest heaving, chin set harder than granite.
Oh dear, I thought. He’s more than a little angry with me.
He twisted his head sideways to look at me again, but remained silent.
“I’m so sorry,” I said quietly, voice barely above a whisper.
He stalked over to me and grasped me by the upper arms with no regard for my wounds. I gasped in pain, staring up at him.
“Why didn’t you tell me what you were doing?” he demanded through clenched teeth, his lips barely moving.
I didn’t know what to say and continued to look up at him, mute. I had no defence. I could easily have picked up the phone instead of leaving him such an uninformative note.
“Why?” he bellowed into my face. I flinched backwards, but he only tightened his grasp on me. I yelped in pain. “I thought we were a team.”
“We are,” I managed to squeak, faintness washing over me. I needed food and I needed painkillers. And I didn’t really care which came first, but if they didn’t come soon I didn’t know what would happen. My legs started shaking again.
“No, we’re not! In a team, people communicate with each other. They don’t go off alone on stupid missions, putting themselves in incredible danger.” He was more upset than I’d ever imagined, but I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t remember all the reasons I’d come up with to rationalise my actions.
All I could say again was, “I’m sorry.”
“You think that saying sorry makes up for everything I’ve . . . we’ve all been through? Really? Is that all you have to say, Tess?”
I did something completely out of character then – I burst into tears.
He looked away, still gripping me tightly, then looked back. “God! Tess, don’t do that. Stop. Don’t cry. Please.”
“I’m so hungry,” I sobbed out in a watery voice.
Despite himself, he laughed softly. “Of course you are.” He wrapped me in his arms and we embraced for a long time. And I was surprised to find myself hugging him as tightly as he was hugging me.
“You can’t imagine what we’ve all been through,” he said in a low voice in my ear, stroking my hair. “Not knowing where you were or even if you were still alive. We’ve all been to hell and back a thousand times.”
“I’m so sorry,” I repeated quietly and more calmly, my head resting on his shoulder. My muscles felt like jelly and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep standing. “I never meant to worry anyone.”
“I learned something very important yesterday,” he said, pushing me away slightly and looking down.
I looked up at him. “What’s that?”
“That you’re a terrible troublemaker who causes me no end of grief.”
I managed to smile. “You already knew that.”
“True, but I learned something even more important this morning.”
“What?”
“That you’re worth every bit of that grief.”
I smiled again. “You already knew that too.”
He smiled back at me briefly, his emotions still too raw to let it go completely. He wiped away the tears on my cheeks with his thumb. “You don’t cry.”
“Who said I’m crying? That’s just the onion juice wafting over to my eyes.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I guess I better keep cooking for you.”
“Yeah, you better. I’m starving! I hope you’re cooking –”
“Hold on!” interrupted a familiar voice. “You can’t eat anything until I’ve given you the once over.” It was Dr Fenn, the prison doctor.
I groaned. “But I’m so hungry! I haven’t eaten anything since Wednesday night.”
“I don’t care. That poor girl looks as though she hasn’t eaten for longer than that and I’m not going to let her have anything either.”
“Is she awake?”
“On and off. She’s very traumatised. Some of her injuries are . . .” He shook his head sadly. “Well, I shudder to imagine what she’s been through.” He patted me on the shoulder. “Tess, no matter what anyone else says to you today, and no matter how much trouble you get into, you did the right thing. She’s just a kid.”
I was touched by that. “Thanks, Doc. That’s really nice of you.” I pulled a hangdog face. “Can you tell the Super that for me too?”
He barked with laughter. “Come into the bedroom so I can check you over.” He took my hand. “My God, your skin’s like ice still.” He turned to the Sarge. “She needs more clothes – a big jacket or a blanket or something.”
The doctor led me into my bedroom and tried to close the door on everyone who’d followed us. The Super pushed it open and slipped in, disregarding the doctor’s glare and shutting the door in Mr X’s face. Kylie was lying on the bed, snugly wrapped in a pile of blankets, an electric blanket on top, its cord snaking down to the powerpoint. Her tiny face peeped through the cocoon, her eyes shut. She looked young and vulnerable, ugly bruising vivid against her unhealthy pallor.
“She’s stabilised now, so stop worrying about her for a second and lie down on the other side of the bed,” he ordered. I did as I told, patiently waiting while he ran the usual checks on me, snapping out questions the entire time. The Super watched as he did, taking a few notes when she thought I’d shared something significant about my exploits.
“You’re both hypothermic,” the doctor explained. “Not severe enough for medical intervention though. You’re lucky that the cloud cover is keeping temperatures higher than normal at the moment. If it had been below zero last night, you both would have been in a lot of trouble.”
He splinted my finger for me, felt the back of my head gently, disinfected my scratches and the self-inflicted knife wounds on my wrists and palms. Tutting over my previous wounds, he decided that they wouldn’t need further attention and questioned me carefully about the drug with which Kylie and I had been injected. I really wasn’t able to tell him anything about it, except that it was colourless and was delivered by syringe.
He scoffed rudely at my observational skills, a knock at the door breaking him off mid-sarcastic comment. It was the paramedics. He discussed with them the important details about Kylie and they busied themselves hooking her up to a portable IV, wrapping her in thermal blankets and transferring her to a gurney.
“You can get in the ambulance too,” the doctor ordered.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I responded, heading back to the kitchen. I wasn’t kidding when I’d said I was starving. I was ready to start gnawing on one of my own limbs.
“Tessie, you need to spend the day in hospital for observation. You’ve been drugged by an unknown substance. There could be some after-effects,” he insisted.
I paused at the bedroom door. “I’ll call you if there are,” I said, smiling at him sweetly.
He snorted. “I’m not your personal physician, you know. I have a job and it’s a very busy one even without factoring in you.”
“I’ll make sure someone’s with her all the time,” the Super promised as I pouted at him. “She’s staying at my place tonight and after that will be with Jake all weekend.”
He gave in good-naturedly, recognising two stubborn women when he met them. He patted me gently on the cheek as he left. “You take care now, missy. And don’t forget to ring Jake. He’s been going insane with worry at work.”
I turned to the Super in dismay. “You didn’t tell Jakey, did you? God! What about Dad? Did you tell him too? He’ll be frantic.”
“Tess,” she said sharply. “We couldn’t
keep your disappearance quiet. For a start, Maguire rang every person in this town when he realised that the patrol car was gone and you weren’t responding to his phone calls or the car radio. Of course he fucking rang Trev and Jake. He was desperate to find out where you were. Don’t blame him for that.”
“No, ma’am, of course I wouldn’t,” I said, surprised. She had just stuck up for the Sarge.
“That man . . .” She shook her head, seemingly lost for words. “I accused him of caring for you too much, but now I’m glad if that’s true. He hasn’t rested for a second looking for you this last twenty-four hours.”
“I told you he was a good man, Fiona.”
She sighed heavily and rubbed her eyes. “I’m getting too old for this all-nighter shit. I’m completely fucking shattered.”
My guilt compounded. “I better ring Dad and Jakey and let them know I’m okay.” I pushed her towards the kitchen as we spoke. I loved to chat, but I needed to eat.
“Maguire took care of that while you were in the shower. Everyone’s up-to-date.”
I gladly sank onto one of the kitchen chairs, hoping for a quiet moment to eat. But every other chair filled up with curious people, and it became clear that I was going to have an audience while I ate. Martin himself was sitting at the head of the table, blissfully sipping on a coffee, enjoying the excitement of the morning. The others were throwing him curious glances, not knowing who he was or why he was there. For a bunch of detectives they weren’t too good at establishing basic facts.
The Sarge abandoned his cooking to pull me upwards again by the arm. He draped a huge puffy skiing jacket over my shoulders, helping my arms through the armholes, zipping me up, pulling the hood over my head and adjusting it. When he was satisfied, he tweaked me on the nose and pushed down on my shoulder gently. I assumed that meant I could resume my seat. It was hard to move in the bulky jacket – I felt like Kenny from South Park. Including the part about everyone trying to kill me.
He didn’t keep me waiting and placed some steaming porridge in front of me, with brown sugar and milk, my favourite way. I smiled up at him and stirred it before spooning it into my mouth greedily. He then placed a mug of coffee and a glass of orange juice on the table. I swiftly scoffed and slurped everything down, refusing to answer anyone’s questions while I ate. When I’d finished everything, I looked over at him imploringly, hoping like hell there was more.