Blood Sport (Little Town)

by JD Nixon

  He didn’t fail me, placing a perfect omelette in front of me. Stomach somewhat appeased, I told them everything that had happened to me while I ate that. The Super, Mr X and Zelda scribbled furiously in their notepads as I spoke. The Sarge sat frowning, watching me closely, his arms crossed. Martin was entranced as if I was telling him a fairy tale at bedtime. Bum sat with concentrated attention that seemed impressively intelligent on first glance, but I could see different muscles on his body moving and I think he was exercising as he sat there, his mind fully concentrated on tensing and relaxing different muscle groups. It was quite distracting and the others had to keep prompting me to continue when my focus wandered over his way again.

  I took them through my discovery of Kylie’s identity, my frantic late night tip-off, my experiences in the bikie retreat and the consequent tramp home from Mountain Road. Of course they were very interested in the skull that I’d seen, but everyone agreed nothing could be done about that until the rain stopped.

  I had a good two minute rant about the Bad Samaritans in the silver station wagon who had not stopped to help us. The Sarge asked me if I’d caught their number plate. I had, and innocently told him. Later I learned that he and Fiona tracked down the couple from interstate who owned that car. Fiona had rung them up and berated them mercilessly about their lack of human decency, until the woman was crying and the man angrily threatening to report her to her superiors. I understand at that point she suggested that he do something to himself that was not only physically impossible but morally undesirable, before hanging up on him. No complaint was ever lodged.

  When I’d finished saying everything I wanted to say, I directed a question myself.

  “Why didn’t you come after me at the bikie retreat?” I asked, twisting my head to look over the Sarge as he washed up at the sink. “I left you a note telling you where I was.”

  An awkward silence fell around the table. The Sarge flushed, but his voice was even. “I didn’t find it. Not until a long time after you were missing and by then it was too late.”

  “Oh. I left it right here on this table so you’d see it first thing when you came in,” I explained, tapping the table top. I gave him a rueful half-smile. “Although I fully expected to be back home safely before you returned.”

  It was only then that I heard their side of the story. The Sarge had returned to Little Town at about ten in the morning on Thursday, having twice tried to reach me on my mobile during the drive from Big Town. When he returned home, he realised that the patrol car was gone and the police station was locked up, no lights on. He kept ringing me and when he failed to raise me, then tried me several times on the car radio. Nothing.

  Increasingly worried, he rang people who might know where I was – Jake, Dad, Abe, Gretel. When that drew a blank, he contacted people who might have come across me during their normal business, like Joanna. Then he contacted everyone in Little Town, hoping that I’d been held up on a call-out somewhere. He’d even rung the Bycrafts, receiving nothing for his trouble but amused abuse.

  It was at that stage that the bikies had exited the town en masse. He didn’t think anything about it at the time, fully preoccupied with my disappearance.

  He’d driven around town and out to the extremities trying to spot the patrol car. After that futile exercise, he’d been forced to ring the Super, begging her to tell him that I was safe and cosy in her office, chatting and having a coffee. But I wasn’t in Big Town and nobody had seen me there. After listening to him, the Super became anxious as well and it turned into a full-scale hunt.

  One observant member of the nudist community, driving into town for a spot of shopping (fully clothed, of course!) noticed the patrol car hidden in the copse on Beach Road at about three in the afternoon. The Sarge also discovered that I’d taken the clean black clothes he’d laundered and had put two and two together. But he was too late – by that stage, Kylie and I had been drugged and dumped in the bush hours before by the bikies. By the time the Sarge was able to organise a force from Big Town to proceed to the bikies retreat, he’d finally found the note from me that had solidified all their fears.

  Knowing that the bikies had already split, a team was coordinated to search their premises. But before it could properly mobilise, they were stunned to hear a massive explosion as the retreat was blown to smithereens. Fearing that I’d been inside, everyone rushed to the scene and as soon as it was stable and cool enough to enter, forensics had found my utility belt and knife, but no bodies. Which only crushed and raised their hopes simultaneously. Was I alive or dead? Was I free or a prisoner? Was I hurt? Where the hell was I?

  “I’m so sorry, everyone,” I said humbly for the hundredth time and looked at each of them one by one. “Well? Sarge? Ma’am? Isn’t someone going to give me a reaming? Let’s get it over and done with. I know I deserve it.”

  “I’ve moved beyond anger, Tessie,” said the Super quietly, lines of weariness etched deeply into her face, looking every day of her age in the morning light. She stood up to pour herself another coffee.

  “Sarge?”

  “I’m just so relieved and grateful that you’re alive that there’s no room to feel anything else at the moment. Maybe I’ll be angry again with you later, but not right now.” He rubbed his face tiredly and yawned.

  “Mr X?”

  “I’m too tired to be angry, Tessie. And ditto what Finn said about relief flooding out everything else.”

  “Zelda? Bum? Anyone?”

  They both shook their heads with tiredness. And all that only served to make me feel even worse.

  The Super drank her coffee quickly and stood up. “Bum, let’s get back to Wattling Bay. Tessie, pack your stuff, you can come back with me.”

  “No, ma’am, I need to do some washing and see to some other things first. I’ll get that lift with Ronnie this afternoon like we planned.”

  “No need to put your husband out, ma’am. I’ll drive Tessie to your house when she’s done what she needs to,” offered the Sarge. “I’m sure she’ll want to visit that girl in hospital first though.”

  I nodded confirmation. I certainly would want to do that.

  “Don’t overdo it and keep warm,” the Super instructed me. “Maguire, look after her. And for fuck’s sake, keep an eye on her this time, will you?”

  “I won’t let her out of my sight until she’s safely delivered to you, ma’am.”

  I complained, “That’s not necessary. I’m not going to do anything crazy.” Five exhausted pairs of eyes turned to me as one. “Well, I’m not!”

  Mr X and Zelda stood up to leave as well. The Sarge imposed on them to take a very reluctant Martin back to the mental health clinic and to tell the psychiatrist to come and retrieve her car from his house.

  I threw off the skiing jacket, feeling much warmer by then, and spent the rest of the morning washing and drying my large pile of wet and dirty clothes, including my uniforms. During the wash cycles, I rested on the lounge, a warm blanket over me, a cup of tea close by, watching daytime crap on TV. I took emotional phone calls with both Dad and Jake. Dad told me that the house should be finished today. But I made him promise that he’d continue staying with Adele regardless, because I was going to be out of town all weekend and I didn’t like the thought of him being alone.

  The Sarge and I chatted for a while, filling in the gaps in our stories. It was only when everything had calmed down and I was relaxed that I realised something was wrong.

  “Where’s Melissa?” I asked him, looking around me stupidly as if he’d hidden her somewhere.

  His eyes fixed on something interesting in the carpet for a while before meeting mine. “She drove back to the city. We had a huge fight yesterday.”

  “Oh.” I wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t seem too upset about it. “I’m sorry.”

  He glanced at me. “Don’t you want to know what it was about?”

  My heart sank, positive that it had something to do with me. “No. It’s your business,
not mine.”

  He ignored me and continued speaking. “When we arrived back here yesterday morning, Melissa threw her coat and handbag on the kitchen table.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh, indeed. She covered up your note to me.”

  “That was an accident, surely. You weren’t angry at her for doing that, were you?” It didn’t sound fair to me.

  “No, of course not. But I knew you would never go off without leaving me a note. Later that day, while I was ringing people frantically, I asked her to give me a hand by searching the house for a note from you. I thought maybe it might have slipped down the side of a cabinet or something.”

  “She didn’t find my note?”

  “No, but then she didn’t move her coat or handbag when she looked, even though I stressed to her to look everywhere carefully.” He stared down at the carpet again. “I didn’t get back into the kitchen for a couple of hours and so didn’t notice that she hadn’t moved them. When I did notice and lifted up her coat to find your note underneath, I’m afraid I tore strips off her.”

  I remained silent.

  “She didn’t appreciate that, called me a few choice names, accused me of caring about you more than her and drove off in a huff. I haven’t heard from her since.”

  “I’m really sorry, Sarge,” I said regretfully. “Looks as though I’ve caused more trouble than I ever thought possible. Why don’t you ring her and make it up with her? She’s had time to cool down by now.”

  “Nope. I refuse to make the first move this time. It’s not just about what happened yesterday. It’s about everything since she returned.”

  I really didn’t want to hear about his personal life and was about to excuse myself to check on the washing, but for once, I could sense a genuine need in him to talk. I suppressed a sigh and settled back on the lounge, pulling the blanket over me more snugly and tucking my feet under me.

  “What did she do?”

  “She’s so immature. She doesn’t like this town and she doesn’t want to live here. It’s as simple as that.”

  “Didn’t you tell her that it will only be for a few years?”

  “In all honesty, I couldn’t say that to her.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m not sure how long I’ll stay here anymore. I’ll probably end up staying a lot longer than I planned.”

  That took me by surprise. I had always thought that he would dutifully rack up a couple of years of country service before returning to the city seeking promotion to senior sergeant.

  “Why?”

  He looked over at me steadily, his eyes unreadable. “Why not? It’s as good a place as any to be.”

  There was silence between us for a few minutes before he stood up, stretched and yawned. “I’m off to have a shower. Will you be okay for a while?”

  “I think I’ll manage to cope, and I promise I won’t run away,” I said dryly. He looked down at me with another unreadable expression on his face, ruffled my hair, and headed to the bathroom.

  I snuggled down further into the blanket and closed my eyes. I thought about what he had told me of his fight with Melissa and staying longer here in Little Town. I guess that Melissa would just have to harden up and get used to country life, because they surely wouldn’t prolong their engagement further until he returned to the city. On a selfish note though, I’d be thrilled if he stayed here for longer. I liked working with him and I thought we made a great team. But also, he was a good influence on me and that was something I hadn’t even realised I’d needed so badly until he arrived here.

  And with all those thoughts tumbling around in my brain, safe, toasty warm, with a full stomach and arm pain numbed by drugs, I drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 28

  I awoke with a start, calling out in panic. I’d been dreaming I was back in the bikies’ retreat. I was in the upstairs room, sitting on the floor, tied securely to the bedpost and unable to move. On the bed something terrible was happening to Kylie and she cried and begged them to stop, but I couldn’t twist up to see because my bindings were so tight. Rusty came in to sneer at me, kicking me as he told me that he’d rigged the building to blow in a minute’s time. Ridiculously, he placed a cartoonish oversized clock on the floor near me and ran from the room, his fingers plugging his ears. Helpless, I watched the second hand tick down inexorably until it was down to the last ten seconds. I struggled furiously to escape my bindings, but the clock reached time and I woke up just as the explosion ripped through the building and through my body.

  I sat up breathing heavily, trying to calm myself. The Sarge rushed into the room on full alert and I held up my hand, palm towards him to indicate that everything was okay.

  “Just a bad dream,” I reassured, when I could speak again.

  “You have far too many of those,” he commented neutrally. “And here I was thinking how peaceful you looked as you slept.”

  “You were watching me while I slept?” I looked up at him with a hint of a frown. “That’s a bit creepy, isn’t it? Should I be worried?”

  “I couldn’t help it,” he replied, smiling. “It’s the only time I’ve ever seen you not complaining about being hungry.”

  I poked my tongue out at him and made moves to get up, yawning. “I better see to my laundry.”

  “It’s all done. Everything’s washed, dried, and folded on your bed.”

  I frowned again. “My underwear too? That’s going beyond the call of duty, isn’t it?”

  “I like to help.” His voice and face were suspiciously bland.

  “Most men do when it comes to a woman’s panties and bras,” I shot back archly. He merely smiled again. “I’m going to have to keep my eye on you, Maguire. Watching me while I sleep. Fondling my underwear. Maybe Fiona’s right about you, after all? You really are a pervert?”

  He smiled. “I can neither confirm nor deny that accusation.”

  I laughed and stretched my arms and legs out on the lounge. Bad idea. Every muscle screamed at me in protest. “How long did I sleep for anyway that you were able to do all that? What time is it?”

  “Two-thirty.”

  “What?” I scrambled off the lounge, sore muscles or not. “Two-thirty? I have to get moving.” I hustled to my bedroom to furiously throw all my things in my old backpack after dressing in my other uniform of jeans, long-sleeved t-shirt and hooded jacket.

  I made the Sarge drive me to my house so that I could pack some additional clothes for my weekend with Jake. I’d be damned if I was going to wear jeans or my uniform out to dinner at that nice restaurant. Freddie was in full swing at my house and I took five minutes to chat to him about his progress. He assured me he’d be finished later that day and the house would be waiting for me when I arrived back from Big Town on Sunday afternoon.

  All packed and ready to go, the Sarge swung the patrol car in the direction of Big Town. Our first stop was the children’s ward of the hospital where we checked on Kylie. She’d already been examined by the special forensics team that dealt with sexual assaults and had since showered, slept and eaten. Dressed in a hospital gown, she was flipping through an old magazine, looking so young, fragile and bruised that it ripped at my heart.

  Her whole face lit up when she saw me. “Officer Tess! I hoped you would visit me.”

  “Of course I did, sweetie,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat and sitting on her bed, giving her a gigantic but careful hug.

  “Thank you so much for caring enough about me to help,” she whispered tearfully. I reached over to her bedside table and pulled a handful of tissues from a box, handing them to her. She mopped her face and sniffed loudly. I hoped she’d stop crying soon, or I’d be reaching for a tissue myself.

  I sent the Sarge off on an errand to buy her some teenage girl magazines and chocolate and stayed with her for much longer than I’d planned. She’d been assigned a victim support officer, a motherly woman with kind eyes, an understanding manner and broad shoulders built for crying on. That of
ficer had managed to contact Kylie’s mother. She was currently on her way to Big Town as we spoke to be reunited with her runaway daughter.

  Kylie clutched my hand tightly and confided how nervous she was about meeting up with her mother again after everything that had happened. Not really knowing what to say, I advised her just to take each minute as it came and to give her mother a chance to make it all up between them. Everyone deserved a second chance, I told her. Especially in the important relationships in your life.

  Kissing her on her forehead and promising to keep in contact with her, we made our farewells. The Sarge drove me to the Big Town police station where he was going to drop me off. I would catch a lift with the Super after she finished work.

  My entrance caused a bit of a stir and I endured some ribbing and an ironic slow clap at my expense. The Sarge carried my bag for me up to the Super’s office. She was on her mobile, standing at the half-open window, smoking, and waved us inside. The Sarge reluctantly made moves to take his leave, not happy about letting me go again when I’d only just returned.

  “Sarge, you go home and ring Melissa. Sort it all out with her. Apologise your heart out. We women love that,” I advised, smiling. “You have a wedding to plan, remember?”

  He shook his head, resolute. “I’m not ringing her. She needs to grow up. I’m not marrying a baby.”

  “Don’t be so mean to her. She’s very young.”

  “She’s only three years younger than you, Tessie.”

  That floored me. I’d been thinking she was much younger, maybe just twenty-years-old. “Oh.”

  His voice was sour. “We were engaged when she was twenty-two and I was thirty. Two years later and here we are.”