“Following you to work?” A bewildered tone.
“Yes. Tailing close to my bumper. She’s frightening. I can’t have an accident. What if the baby gets hurt?”
“I’ll go talk to her. As long as you’re okay with that?”
“Tell her to stay away from me.”
“I will.”
“I’ll get Renee to open the salon this morning. Stop by afterwards. I think we need to talk.”
Hesitation. “Right. Yeah, sure. I’ll be there soon.”
* * *
Chris spotted Tina’s car. She was parked on the side of the road next to a row of trees. When he pulled his ute up behind her, he looked around, noting the clear line of vision up the hill to Isabelle’s house.
Chris went to her, standing beside the driver’s side window. Not that a window mattered when Tina had the top down on her Mini Cooper.
Tina frowned, met his gaze, seatbelt still buckled across her chest. She was pale. Thin. Her eyes were bloodshot. She was fidgeting.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“She obviously didn’t tell you.”
Two lines of tension sat between his brows. “Tell me what?”
“Isabelle’s the stalker, Chris. I saw her outside my window on Monday night. She was tapping on the pane. I blasted her with my torch, and it was Isabelle standing there.”
He laughed sardonically. “What? No way. That’s not right.”
“I saw her!”
“She wouldn’t have done that.”
“It was Isabelle. She then bolted away into the bush.”
He sighed. “You don’t look well, Tina. What’s going on?”
“Don’t gaslight me. I’m fine. I know what I saw. Your wife has been leaving notes inside my house. She has been tapping on my window in the middle of the night.”
He shook his head, unable to grasp what he was being told. At least it explained the strange text message she had left him.
“Did you see her leave the house Monday night?” she asked.
He looked at the ground, bit down on his bottom lip.
Her eyes narrowed. “What?”
“I… ah, haven’t been home. So, I couldn’t tell you if Issy left the house or not.”
Tina blinked.
“We fought. About you.”
She pointed to her chest. “Me?”
“Yeah, she was upset about the cameras.”
“I don’t understand. What the bloody hell have I done to her? What have I ever done to deserve this?”
He lifted his hands. “Look, she’s upset, sure, but it doesn’t mean she’s coming over to your house in the middle of the night and tapping on your window.”
“And how would you know?”
“I know. Okay? Leave her alone.”
Tina leaned closer to Chris, her nose wrinkling with her anger. “No, you’ve got it the wrong way around. She’s to leave me alone. You tell her not to set foot on my property again. If she does, I’ll call—”
“You don’t dare touch a hair on her head. You hear me?”
Tina recoiled, sank back in her seat. She was going to say she would call the police, not hurt her.
“If you dare touch her, then I’ll—”
The ferocity in Chris’s voice was something she hadn’t encountered before. Not in all their fifteen years of marriage. “Kill me? Is that what you’re going to say?”
He took a step back, his shoulders sagging. “No, of course not. Look, Tina, Issy’s pregnant. I can’t have her getting hurt.”
All vision faded as Tina’s breath was thieved from her lungs like she had been trampled. “Pregnant?”
He regretted mentioning it.
“Your baby?”
He bit down hard on his resentment for being asked such a ridiculous question. “Of course.”
Her lips twisted with rage. She was shaking. Eyes glossing. “Right, I see how it is. She can terrorise me and it’s perfectly okay because she’s having your baby—”
“That’s not it at all.”
“Sure. You know what? Forget it. Enjoy your life.” She unlocked the handbrake, slammed her foot to the accelerator and the car skidded away, kicking up dirt and rocks behind her.
Chris groaned, put his hands on his head and looked up at the sky. Blue. Not a single cloud, which was completely at odds with his emotions.
* * *
Isabelle opened the door for Chris when he arrived at the house. She had spied on his encounter with Tina from the front window. With the way Tina had abruptly left, it didn’t look like it had gone well.
“Hi,” she said and stood out the way so he could come inside.
He was frowning. His brows were low. She wasn’t sure if she had seen him upset like this before.
He stepped inside. “Hi.”
“Do you want a coffee?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
She led him to the kitchen. “How have you been?”
He shrugged, frowned even deeper. “As well as someone who has been kicked out of his house could be, I guess.”
Her eye twitched. She resented his answer, though he was in his rights to gripe about it. She turned away from him, concentrating on pouring milk into a metal jug. “So, what is Tina doing parked down the road?”
“She thinks you’re her stalker.”
Isabelle spun to face her husband, eyes wide. A small chuckle. “You’ve got to be joking. Why the hell would I stalk her?”
“I’m not sure,” he said with a shrug. “I can’t make sense of it.”
“She’s utterly lost her mind.”
“Did you go to her house, Issy? Tap on her windows?”
A derisive laugh. “Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t here to vouch for your whereabouts. But she swears black and blue that she saw you outside her bedroom window on Monday night.”
She slammed the jug onto the benchtop, milk nearly splashing over the lip. “As if. How could you even think that I would do something like that?”
“I don’t know what’s going on. I’m hearing two conflicting stories from people who have no reason to lie. I don’t know what to believe.”
“How about your wife? The woman carrying your child.”
He sighed. “Look, I just told her about the baby. Believe me” – he focused on his linked fingers – “she’s suffering enough. So, if you were, perhaps, dishing out some kind of punishment, then please stop.”
She gasped, nose wrinkling. “How dare you! Seriously, Chris, how bloody dare you!” She pointed towards the front door. “I’ve had enough. Get out! Now! I don’t need this in my life. Get out! Go!” she screamed, shaking with anger. After so many years living independently, only herself and Juliette to worry about, she wasn’t used to some third party lugging their bag full of emotional landmines, throwing them all over the house and expecting her to sidestep them. Eventually, she was going to hit one. Too many this past week.
Chris held both hands up in surrender. “I believe you. I’m just saying.”
“Well don’t. You have no right. Go! Leave! I can’t even look at your face.”
“For fuck’s sake, Issy. You can’t just keep throwing me out.”
“It’s my house. I’ll do what the bloody hell I like.”
He nodded with resignation as he stood. “Exactly. And it will always be this way, won’t it? You screaming at me to leave your home. Might be the reason you so adamantly wanted to keep this house.” His fist slammed down hard on the benchtop. “Gives you the upper hand every fucking time!”
She didn’t say anything. Stared until he dropped his gaze, turned and walked out. When the front door slammed, she jumped. Her pulse was speeding like a bullet train. She stood there in her kitchen, trying to catch her breath, trying to stem the tears that were flooding her eyes, until his car engine started, then hummed away as he drove off.
She snatched the metal jug off the bench and threw it across the room. It hit the opposite wall, crashed
to the floor, milk splashing everywhere. She sank onto the tiles beneath her feet, lowered her face into her hands and sobbed. She didn’t want to be in a marriage where she had to continually argue her position to her husband. He should be on her side.
Chapter 20
The day of the murder…
Tina careened off the road and nearly ploughed into a bank of trees. She pulled the handbrake on, reached for her seatbelt with trembling hands to unbuckle it, but she couldn’t coordinate her movements enough to manage the task. The outskirts of her sight were blackening, tunnelling her vision. The bark on the trees, the green leaves, her car’s dashboard, were warping and waving.
Her heart was thumping so hard, she thought she could die. Ahead of her, a dark, crouched figure manifested between the tree trunks. The gloomy spectre edged closer to the car, growing more vivid and colourful with its slow advance.
Tina gasped as she finally made out what it was: Isabelle, on her hands and knees, crawling across the rocks and dirt. Her face was caved in, her skull collapsed in places and blood was pouring down her cheeks, chin, and neck. She glared at Tina with demonic eyes, a teasing snarl, then lurched at the car and roared like a monster.
Tina covered her face and screamed, bracing for the impact.
* * *
Tina woke in hospital. She was startled as she opened her eyes, meeting bright light, unfamiliar equipment and four white walls. Her head lolled from side to side, her breathing quickening, as she fought to understand her surroundings.
A nurse was beside her, unwrapping a blood pressure bandage from Tina’s arm. She smiled warmly. “Hello, you’re awake.”
“Where am I?” Tina asked with a soft, hoarse voice. The back of her throat was sore, her tongue dry.
“You’re at Gladstone Hospital.”
She shook her head, panic rising in her chest. “Why? What’s wrong with me?”
“Let me fetch Doctor Michaels and he can explain everything.”
The nurse left the room and Tina’s eyelids closed. She was woozy and blocking out the world helped to stem that sensation. The sound of footsteps had her snapping her eyes open again.
“Hi, Tina. Good to see you’re awake,” Doctor Michaels said as he stood beside the bed. “You’re looking much better. How are you feeling?”
“Tired. Confused.”
He silently studied her chart for a moment. “Your last ECG shows your heart rhythm has returned to normal. Your body temperature is good. Blood pressure is still a little high, but nothing to be concerned about. Do you recall what happened?”
She looked up to the ceiling. “I was driving. And then… then…” She shook her head.
“You were found in your car this morning, presenting with symptoms of drug intoxication. An ambulance transported you to the emergency department. We ran a tox screen, but it didn’t pick up on any of the usual suspects. Have you taken anything recently?”
She frowned. “I don’t take drugs.”
“You’re not on any kind of medication?”
“None.”
“No vitamins or natural remedies of any kind?”
“No.”
“No supplements? Maybe you bought something from overseas?”
She shook her head.
“As we don’t know what specific drug we’re dealing with, we had to treat your symptoms generally. You’ve been fed activated charcoal to ensure there was no absorption of the drug into your lower bowel. You should pass that with your next bowel movement. Be sure to drink lots of water in the meantime. We have ordered a broader tox screen to see if we can pinpoint what the specific substance was and how much you consumed. Knowing what we’re dealing with will be much more helpful for your treatment but may also ensure you don’t get re-exposed to it.”
“I don’t understand.” Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them away.
“Have you had any symptoms before this morning?”
She drew a shuddering breath inwards, tried to return her mind to the past, but it was all so foggy. Only snippets of information were available. “Um, yeah, I’ve had dizziness and brain fog for a couple of weeks. I’ve been very tired.”
He took notes. “Heart palpitations?”
She nodded. “Sometimes. Nothing I was worried about. I’ve been thirsty, a lot. And hot. I don’t understand any of this. I don’t understand what’s happening.”
“Until we know what you’ve ingested, all you need to do is rest. I’ll keep the oxygen up overnight and a saline drip for hydration. We’ll reassess in the morning.”
She nodded, wiped the tears from her cheeks.
“Your clarity should return soon enough. Just give it a little time. Meanwhile, I want you to get a good night’s rest. If you need help going to the bathroom or anything else, just press this buzzer here,” he said, pointing to the switch above the bed connected to a long cord. “A nurse will assist you.”
When the doctor left the room, Tina closed her eyes. Something dark and terrifying was lurking in the deepest recesses of her mind. Not much made sense at that moment except for one thing—she did not want to come face to face with that monster.
Chapter 21
The day of the murder…
Detective McKenzie’s stomach was knotted as he stood on the front doorstep. He closed his eyes for the length of time it took to draw a deep, calming breath, then knocked on the door.
Jenkins was fiddling with her collar, not meeting his gaze. That was her way of getting in the zone. This was never easy. Ever.
After so many years in the job, McKenzie could handle a lot. Thick skin was real; it had to be. But informing family members about a death—let alone that their beloved relative had been murdered so gruesomely—was something no human with a heart could ever dissociate completely from. Sweat was already forming under his arms and across his brow.
Muted footsteps from inside, then the door opened with a rush.
A petite woman with long blonde hair stood before him. Her face was lined with worry. “Hi. What’s this all about. I’m absolutely beside myself. Is someone hurt?”
“Isabelle Brooks?”
She nodded.
“I’m Detective Inspector McKenzie and this is Detective Jenkins. Perhaps it’s best if we speak about this inside.”
Isabelle raked a hand through her hair then gestured they come in. They stepped through the doorway and followed Isabelle to the living room where they sat on the couch beside one another, Isabelle taking the large chair opposite.
McKenzie leaned forward until his elbows were on his thighs, hands clasped. He cleared his throat and looked Isabelle in the eyes. “I’m sorry to inform you, but your daughter Juliette has died.”
Silence.
A slight shake of Isabelle’s head.
A delirious chuckle that soon morphed into a deep frown. “No. That can’t be right. She’s at work. She got a job at the alumina refinery. She’s there right now.” Isabelle got to her feet, looking around her. “Where’s my phone? I’ll call her, to show that you’re mistaken.”
“Isabelle?” Jenkins said.
“She’ll answer. You watch.”
“Isabelle,” Jenkins repeated. “Please, come take a seat.”
Isabelle returned to the couch and sat down like a robot. Her eyes were wide, frightened.
“I know this is an extremely difficult situation,” McKenzie said. “We were called to an incident this morning, not far from here. Juliette was involved. When we arrived at the scene, it was too late.”
Isabelle’s face contorted as her denial was thieved by the realness of the moment. Two serious detectives with sombre frowns. It wasn’t some cruel joke or disgusting mix-up. Deep down she was aware of that but letting her mind come to that conclusion consciously was impossible. “How? What kind of incident?”
“An autopsy and continuing investigation will offer more certainty, but at this stage, it appears that a minor car accident occurred. Juliette exited her vehicle, at which point, she was at
tacked.”
Isabelle gasped, threw her hands over her mouth. She was shaking wildly. “Attacked? What does that mean? Who did this?”
“Juliette suffered injuries to her head, it appears to have been with a wrecking bar. We’re still trying to establish who was involved. It’s early days yet, but I assure you we will do all that we can to find that out.”
Isabelle’s head spun. She squeezed her eyes closed. Her heart was beating so hard, it was bruising against her ribs. A deep, violent throb of pain. Twisting in her womb. The brutality of that moment pummelled her, knocked her off her axis. She was no longer spinning around the sun that was her daughter.
Juliette was dead.
Someone had beaten her to death with a wrecking bar.
Only after a moment did Isabelle realise the deep, guttural groan filling the room was coming from her. Her eyes filled with tears. “No.” Her mouth twisted, lips trembled.
Detective Jenkins went to sit beside Isabelle, wrapping an arm around her. Isabelle fell against her and cried the most mournful cry Jenkins had ever heard. She held her head high, blinked back the moisture in her eyes, not allowing herself to succumb to it all. If she did, it would sweep her away.
After a long moment, Jenkins slowly moved away and sat up taller. “We would like to ask a few questions?”
Isabelle didn’t answer.
“Isabelle, I know this is extremely hard,” McKenzie said in a warm voice.
“Who did this?” Isabelle asked. “Who would kill Juliette?”
“That’s what we need to get to the bottom of.”
Detective Jenkins stood. “I’m going to make a cup of tea for you. While I do that, Detective Inspector McKenzie is going to ask a few questions. Okay?”
Isabelle stared straight ahead but nodded.
McKenzie opened his notebook, lifted his pen from his pocket and clicked the end. Such a small sound but in the silent, emotionally charged room it was obtrusive. “What time did Juliette leave the house this morning?”
“Seven past eight.”
“That’s a precise time.”
“Juliette’s precise.” Isabelle scrubbed a hand through her hair. “She’s a very smart, capable young woman.”
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