by K T Bowes
Chapter 39
The following Sunday afternoon, Hana stood in her dining room and surveyed her home of many years. It looked sad and empty, her possessions stacked in boxes around the room. All week she had flitted between work and two homes, running herself ragged in the process. Her phone rang and she retrieved it from the counter and answered.
“You packed yet?” Bodie sounded jovial and Hana smiled.
“Sort of,” she replied, hedging.
“That’s a no then.” He laughed and Hana shook her head, realising he couldn’t see her.
“It’s an almost. I’ve finished the kitchen, dining room and lounge. I’ve stacked the boxes but can’t get them down the stairs to the garage. The other bedrooms only contained furniture and that’s all dismantled and downstairs. It’s just my room now and I’m doing that next.”
“Wow. Impressive.” Music sounded in the background and Bodie spoke to someone else. “Sorry, Mum. Gotta go. Break’s over and we just got a call.”
“Okay. Take care.” Hana sighed and surveyed the heavy boxes again as Bodie rang off. She hoped the removals men had big muscles. Bits of paper and weird stuff clung to the edges of the room, butted up to the skirting board and waiting for her to make decisions. “I hate this bit,” Hana groaned. “Too many choices.”
A sharp rap on the front door told Hana the battery had run out for the doorbell. She clattered down the stairs in her slippers, the lack of furniture making her footsteps echo. She opened the door, a vague smile plastered on her face to mask her irritation at the disturbance. Logan stood at the top of the steps sheltering under the small porch. Rain drove onto his back, plastering his hair to his head and his jacket looked damp across the shoulders. His eyes held Hana’s in a firm gaze although his fingers shook as he ran a wet hand across his forehead. “We need to talk,” he began. “I don’t understand what happened between us.” He stopped abruptly at the stunned expression on Hana’s face.
“What happened between us?” she squawked and stuttered. “You cheated on me with your ex-fiancé! Go away. Leave me alone! And have a nice life!”
Hana launched herself inside and slammed the door. She stomped up the stairs, enjoying the sound her righteous indignation made in the echoing hallway. Having relished the slam of the front door, she repeated it with the hall and bedroom doors. “I don’t believe it!” she fumed. Hana hurled herself on the bed in temper, remembering at the last moment it was dismantled. Her face-plant on the carpet robbed her of dignity and breath.
Logan lifted his hand to knock again. Then he thought better of it. He descended the front steps with an aura of heartbreak, shoulders bowed against the weight of disappointment. His truck dropped spots of oil onto the driveway and Logan glanced underneath and wrinkled his nose. He delayed the unlocking process, hoping Hana might reconsider. She didn’t. He stood on the drive and listened to a mysterious series of loud bangs and crashes from inside.
The insistent hammering on the door ten minutes later sounded loud in the empty hallway. Hana pulled on the heavy box, hauling it with white knuckled fingers. Her entire collection of pullovers peeked from the hand holes, swathing her best china and offering woolly protection. “Bugger off, Logan!” she hissed, bending her knees and pulling with all her might. “How can you wonder what happened? Caroline bloody Marsh happened, you idiot!” She ignored the knocking, more occupied with manoeuvring the awkward cardboard weight through the door of the master bedroom. It wedged itself in the doorway, forcing her to tug it diagonally one way then the other. It emerged with a pop, sending the back of Hana’s head into the wall behind her.
With gritted jaw and a heart full of determination, she pulled it the length of the hall, leaving dark pile tracks along the carpet. Her head throbbed, but she refused to quit. Going backwards, she increased momentum and shot onto the landing, almost pitching down the stairs to the front door. The frosted glass panels either side of it betrayed her presence and the knocking became more purposeful.
“Right! That’s it!” Marching down the stairs for the second time, Hana wrenched the door open, her face a picture of anger as she readied herself to banish Logan forever.
The door banged hard against the little hall table behind it and knocked it into the wall. Hana followed it, the weight of the door hitting her in the face. She tasted blood and her vision distorted as her brain struggled to cope. “Hey sweetheart, going somewhere?” The big blonde man moved with speed and precision, grabbing Hana around the throat as she reeled. “I tried to warn you,” he said, his voice a level growl. He pushed her backwards onto the stairs to the first floor, laying her flat so the treads pushed into her spine. “Get that door shut!” He issued the order over his shoulder.
The dark haired man clicked the door closed and turned to survey the scene, his face impassive. Dismantled furniture lined the hallway and boxes wobbled in a stack at the top of the stairs. “Someone’s doin’ a runner.” His Oriental accent mangled the words and dark eyes fixed on Hana’s face as she choked and gagged beneath the blonde man’s fingers.
“Yep.” He dug harder into her throat and Hana saw black spots dance in her vision. “Told you.”
Hana felt the small bones along her spine crunch and creak, taking the impact of the stairs as the intruder flattened her. She knew it was hopeless when she heard herself gasp, her lungs fighting for oxygen.
“Let her go.” The other man raised his voice to speak over Hana’s gagging and the blonde man’s grip relaxed enough for her to hiss in a breath. But his weight on her body pinned her to the stairs. He bent his head close to her face, his eyes revealing a conflict between hatred and lust.
“Hello again,” he whispered. The hardness in his gaze ruined the attractive masculine bone structure and twinkling blue eyes. He settled astride Hana on the stairs, his weight across her stomach. She wrestled her arms out from under her back, wrists sore from trying to soften her fall. Anger flashed in her eyes.
“You stole my car!” Her voice sounded choked and hoarse.
“Yeah, sorry about that. Hope you find it.” The blonde man winked and planted a kiss on Hana’s lips, further cutting off her breathing. His grip on her throat relaxed. She brought her hands up as fists, slamming them into his arm on one side and head on the other. The small bones of her fingers ached from the impact of his cheekbone. He grunted in surprise and Hana bucked beneath him.
The blonde man laughed and snatched up her wrists, pinning them above her head and immobilising her. “Feisty,” he said, his voice catching with the effort of restraining her. “My favourite.”
“Get off me!” Hana heard her heartbeat pounding in her eardrums as panic and helplessness merged together in her confused brain. Her anger against Logan could have proved useful, had it not deserted her the instant the man kissed her. She fell from the heights of justifiable anger to victim, a transition that made her soul feel damaged, as though dragged across broken glass. Powerlessness left a sickening taste in her mouth.
“Hey, don’t kill her; she needs to tell us where it is.” He sounded irritated.
“I wouldn’t do it like this,” the blonde scoffed and he pinned Hana’s arms beneath his knees and reached into his front pocket. A knife handle emerged in his long fingers and with a flick; the blade exposed its glossy metal face in the fading sunlight. He held the point to Hana’s throat and smiled.
“Stop!” His companion lost patience. “Have fun when we find it.”
With a sound of disappointment, the blonde man stood, eyeing his companion with a veiled hatred which he brought under control with a flick of his long lashes. A severe expression graced the other man’s face as he indicated the stairs with a pointed index finger. “Start up there.”
The blonde man hauled Hana up by her right arm, her legs dragging beneath her and an ache starting in her shoulder. He set her on unsteady feet and pushed her up the stairs in the same fluid motion. She stumbled at the top and he leaned in towards her terrified face, his voice a hoarse whisp
er. “Where is it? We can do this the easy way or the hard. It doesn’t matter to me, sweetheart. I’ll enjoy either.”
Helplessness rose as acid inside Hana’s throat as she realised she had nothing to bargain with. “I don’t know,” she heard herself squeak. “I don’t know what you want.”
Asian features stared at her with curiosity as she kneeled on the stairs ahead of him. He fixed his slitted gaze on her face as though weighing up her honesty or her ability to lie. He shook his head, irritation igniting his temper. “I don’t know if she lies. Take her up there.” He jerked his head towards the stairs.
“But she’s running,” the blonde man insisted. “She’s shipping out. I’m telling you, she’s got it!”
Hana crawled up the remaining steps on her knees. The blonde man yanked her upright again. He pushed her along the hallway where she fell over the abandoned box, hearing china smash within the confines of her many pullovers. In the family room, she remembered sitting with the biology teacher and his wife just a few days before. It felt surreal. Dismantled furniture leaned against the walls. Wall to wall boxes left only small walking areas and the man shoved Hana between them, digging his index finger into the back of her head as she missed her footing and fell countless times. The place looked like a bombsite.
The other man followed them into the room and looked around him in disgust. “Pull it apart!” he muttered, jabbing an angry finger at his partner. Then he left the room. Hana heard crashes coming from the bedroom end of the house as he upended boxes and her belongings smashed against the carpet. The blonde man did likewise in the kitchen. “Move and I’ll cut you,” he said, a spiteful glint in his eyes. He pushed Hana back against the oven, the handle digging into her spine. She knew he meant it. Then he lifted a box of crockery from the counter and upended it. Most of it smashed and the sound deafened Hana. She covered her ears with her hands as he tossed a box of kitchen items next. A little china spaniel which Bodie gave her their first Christmas in New Zealand, survived the first crashing fall. But the blonde man’s shoe crushed it with a deliberate stamp, shattering the brindle and white pieces without conscience.
Hana’s senses stirred and she recaptured her latent anger. She edged sideways, moving away from the oven handle and making sure the man mistook it for fear of him. He glanced across at her once and sneered, turning back to his work with a commitment admirable in any other profession. He tossed a threat over his shoulder. “There’s no way out. You can come past me or through me. I’ll enjoy either.”
Revulsion filled Hana and she bent her knees with deliberate slowness. She’d wrapped a knife block in drying towels and it lay on its side beneath the upturned box of kitchen items, the blades still sticking from the wood. Hana moved with care, pulling a large carving knife from beneath the towels. Her oak rolling pin sat next to the remains of the china dog and she hefted that in her left hand, standing up again and resting. The blonde man glanced at her and she kept still, the implements tucked behind her back. The blade felt cold against her fingers and Hana focussed on the razor sharp edge to give her clarity. Smashing the dog snapped her last nerve and in her mind’s eye, Hana imagined punishing the man who smirked as he tipped her belongings onto the carpet and trod them underfoot.
She regulated her ragged breathing. The stranglehold on her throat caused a dreadful soreness around her windpipe, but she couldn’t touch it because of the weapons in her hands. She prayed for divine assistance and gripped the knife until her fingers bled.
A loud crash and a shout came from the other end of the house. The blonde man looked towards the source of the noise, seeing nothing. “Get here!” He lurched towards Hana, intending to drag her with him, but she dug her heels in and resisted.
“No!” she screamed. She swung the rolling pin with everything she had. It contacted the side of his head with force and Hana followed through, lunging with the knife. The man’s eyes widened in shock at the impact and his eyes shuttered in his head. But it didn’t fell him as Hana hoped. Made of strong stuff, he reeled for a second and then grappled for the rolling pin. The knife entangled itself in the sleeve of his dark coloured jacket, missing his heart by a country mile. They struggled together as Hana rained more blows against his temple one-handed, feeling every thudding contact. Enraged, the man grabbed her wrist and slammed it against the counter. Hana let out a scream of pain as her bones contacted the solid surface. The rolling pin spun from her grasp and skittered away, making a resounding clunk as it hit the wall.
Hana saw a dark shape move across the ranch-slider window, distracting her and making her miss her mark with the bare fist which replaced the rolling pin. She saw the dark haired man leap the low wall outside, running down the slope to the street below.
The blonde man continued to fight her, overpowering her delicate frame and forcing her body backwards against the bench. He bled from a cut on his temple. The knife freed itself from his sleeve and sliced through the cloth, giving Hana the opportunity to raise it and slam it into his shoulder. The handle slipped in her fingers and the blade sliced her across the palm. Hana’s scream contained pain and disappointment. She dropped the knife and it skittered away across the kitchen floor
Hana saw the flash of fury in the man’s eyes and knew she wouldn’t survive whatever he did next. He raised his fist and Hana saw the flick knife blade spring to life in his hand. She closed her eyes, waiting for the blow to send her into oblivion. He gave a grunt and his other hand grappled against her sleeve, his fingers digging into her flesh as he pulled Hana into him. Confused, she opened her eyes and saw the blonde man fall backwards.
The knife spun away and he clawed at his throat, the collar of his shirt digging into his flesh. She gasped at the sight of the newcomer, watching as he hauled the blonde man to the carpet and then sprang on top of him. The sound of bone on bone filled the kitchen as the men fought. The blonde man changed his priorities, wanting escape much more than hurting Hana. He squirmed away from his assailant, landing a spiteful right hook against the man’s head and tipping him off sideways as he reeled. Hana’s legs wobbled like a jelly, unable to sustain the weight of her body. The blonde man staggered to his feet and lurched for his knife, landing a kick in his attacker’s stomach as he tried to follow.
Hana slipped to the floor as her legs sagged, adrenaline making her gag. Her rescuer clambered to his feet and started to follow the blonde man, halting as he heard her gasps of agony. Conflict crossed his face. He reached the ranch slider and then turned back, a different priority demanding his attention. Hana felt for the lino beneath her, the backs of her hands seeking solidity. Blood ran along her right wrist and into her sleeve as she raised her hands in front of her face.
Seeing the dilemma, the blonde man stepped back over the threshold and launched himself at her rescuer’s back, the knife outstretched. His reflection in a side window gave him away and he met a waiting elbow face first. Cutting his losses he picked himself up and ran, following his accomplice over the side gate and into their vehicle.
Logan approached Hana with care, squatting down in front of her. She saw the toes of his cowboy boots and her heart clenched in misery. She wrapped her arms around herself in the absence of anyone else’s, spreading blood along her bare arms and onto the sleeve of her tee shirt.
Logan didn’t touch her. “It’s okay,” he soothed. “It’s gonna be okay.” He reached into an upturned box and snatched up a drying towel, winding it around Hana’s bleeding hand. Then he rose and locked the ranch slider to avoid any other unexpected visitors. “I climbed over the gate,” he said, his voice soft. “Geez, Hana. I’m sorry this happened.”
She looked up at him even though her throat smarted and her windpipe felt crushed. Gratitude mingled with regret and loss. Hana bowed her head and pressed her face into her knees, battling with overwhelming emotions she couldn’t suppress. She heard Logan speaking to the emergency operator and closed her eyes.
Hana kept her face buried, making her battered body as ti
ny as possible. She missed the misery on Logan’s face and the countless times he reached out towards her and then pulled back. “You’re okay now, Hana,” he soothed from nearby. “You’re safe.”
The police arrived, causing massive disruption. Two cars parked outside the house and the officers tramped inside without removing their shoes. Hana no longer cared. Twice she gave her statement to different men, the events muddling and changing their order in her brain. They hung around in her kitchen as their radios cackled coded messages and instructions. She watched Logan’s boots moving around her, never far away. He answered questions in a low voice, his tone changing as they spoke of calling an ambulance. “She doesn’t need any more drama,” Logan maintained. “I’ll take her to her own doctor when you’re done here.”
Everything stopped as a more senior officer arrived. His introduction reached Hana through mental static and she didn’t register either his rank or name. She remembered Logan’s reaction though. His boots scuffed against the floor and she looked up to see his fists balled by his sides. “Nice to see you again, Du Rose,” the officer said. He squared his shoulders in his smart grey suit.
“Drop dead.” Logan’s words emerged as a whisper and Hana closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the cupboard. Every part of her body hurt, sending pain signals to her brain from the damaged parts. Her hand bled until it soaked the cloth Logan wrapped around it and her head and throat felt like they belonged to someone else. She stayed slumped on the floor in front of the sink, the gothic handles from last year’s decorating project poking into her back. The lino felt safe and unchanging. Hana refused to move, despite being asked to numerous times.
The senior man in the grey suit took his officers into the lounge. Logan squatted next to Hana and she listened to the hushed conversation while staring at his boots. The policeman lowered his voice. “Her son came to see me ten days ago. Senior Sergeant Bodie Singh Johal. He wasn’t pleased with you idiots and nor am I! Get the crime-scene guys in here. Go over it again. This isn’t just a home invasion; it’s a vendetta. Get this fiasco cleared up!”
“Are you ready?” Logan touched her knee with his index finger and Hana shrank away from him.
“Go away.” She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes, cutting him out of her vision and her life.
“Your choice,” he said. “But it’s the doctors with me or an ambulance with them.”
Logan drove Hana to the doctor’s surgery. “I’m not going to hospital!” she growled through clenched teeth.
“Okay, okay,” he soothed, his expression blank. “I promised.”
“Don’t you dare tell me to pull myself together either,” Hana threatened, wiping her eyes with her bleeding hand. More leakage oozed from the open wound. “Don’t tell me to calm down!”
“I haven’t and I won’t.” Logan’s voice sounded soft and reassuring despite the heartbreak in his eyes.
“Your promises suck!” she spat. “Nothing but lies.”
Logan winced and ignored her. At the doctors, Hana experienced unexpected difficulties getting out of the truck. The distance from the rail to the floor confounded her and her body disobeyed her instructions to move. Her spine hurt and her throat burned like a fireball. She couldn’t reach up and touch it because her left wrist ached and a drying towel swathed her right hand. Hana stared at the floor, remembering the flash of the policewoman’s camera as she photographed Hana’s latest injuries. “I loved this tea towel,” she sobbed, sounding ridiculous even to her own addled mind. “Why did you use my Shakespeare one?”
“I’m sorry, Hana.” Logan lifted her rigid body down from the truck, setting her on the floor as though she might break. He oozed competence, solidity and strength and after a pause, Hana allowed him to take her arm. Her frightened brain shut out everything but the necessities. Logan put his other hand in the small of her back, alarmed when Hana bashed it away. She overbalanced and hit the back of her head against the truck door. The blonde man’s abusive kiss filled her mind and Logan’s possessive touch gave it life.
At the doctors, Hana went straight into triage without sitting in the waiting room. A nurse took Logan aside and Hana heard them through the curtains. “The police called,” she said. “They warned us you’d be coming.” Hana didn’t hear Logan’s reply, but he stayed outside the curtain as the woman continued speaking. “Are you okay? Do you need that stitched?”
“I have to stay with her.” His answer sounded stilted.
“We can do it right here.” The nurse lowered her voice. “But it needs fixing. We both know why.”
The curtains swished open as a doctor walked in, snapping a pair of latex gloves over his hands. Hana panicked and drew her knees closer to her chin. “You’re not touching me,” she said, her voice wavering. “Stay over there!”
Logan put his head through the curtains and Hana noticed the blood on his shirt and the way he held his left hand. “Let him help you.” His determination filtered through her brain and shame replaced the anger.
“I can’t, Logan,” she wailed. “I can’t. I want to go home.”
The nurse added her presence to the cramped space and touched the doctor on the arm. “It’s okay, I’ll do what I can for her. I’ll call if I need help.”
The doctor nodded and left the cubicle. He glanced at the front of Logan’s shirt. “Come with me,” he said.
Hana let the nurse examine her hand, feeling the cool fingers against her hot flesh. “This looks deep. It needs stitching,” she mused. “Do you want an anaesthetic shot first?”
“I don’t care!” Hana sniffed and turned away from the sight of the needle, her fear morphing into futile aggression. “He kissed me on the mouth. I need something to wipe my face.”
Logan returned with thick plasters covering his knuckles, the blood already seeping through. He leaned against the sink with a clipboard and pen, struggling to fill in an accident claim form. Hana scrubbed at her lips with an antiseptic wipe, watching him withdraw his wallet from his tight jeans pocket and pay for her appointment in cash.
They called a technician to x-ray Hana’s wrist. Bruising on her spine meant they checked that too. They found no broken bones but advised the sprain in her wrist would be painful for a while.
“Sprains can sometimes be worse than a break,” the doctor ventured as the nurse wielded a sling. “I’ve prescribed a shot of pain relief and the nurse will administer that.” He gave her a sad smile. “Get well soon. I hope the cops catch the bastard.”
Hana swallowed and her gaze flicked to Logan. His jaw flexed and he avoided her eye. The pain killer created minor gaps in Hana’s consciousness and she found herself back in the truck with only a foggy memory preceding it.
Logan remained silent but Hana caught him looking at her from under his lashes. “Am I going home now?” she pleaded, her voice pitiful.
“You can’t. The cops don’t want you there tonight. Trust me, I’m taking you somewhere safe.” His expression remained neutral and detesting the weakness in her voice, Hana fell silent. Everything seemed so difficult. She dozed in the passenger seat, waking as her temple bumped against the window.
“The biology teacher won’t move in now.” She sniffed, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “He won’t be safe. He’s been my biggest fan all week, waving and smiling across the staffroom at me. I’ve let him down. His lovely family won’t have anywhere to go. Who wants to live in a house after a home invasion?”
“It’s fine, babe,” Logan soothed. “Trust me.”
“I don’t trust you,” Hana hiccoughed. “You tell lies.”
“I don’t, Hana.” He frowned. “You let the house?”
Hana snorted. “That’s right. You promised to help me with Culver’s Cottage and my old house. But you didn’t, did you?”
“You wouldn’t let me!” Logan turned to her, his grey eyes wide with disbelief. “I’ve tried to speak to you so many times.”
“I don’t want to speak to you.” Hana squeezed her
eyes closed and focussed on the various pain sites in her body. Her speech sounded slurred and out of sync with her lips. She didn’t register the route and Logan gave up speaking to her, her fear reaction working its way out in flashes of irrational temper.
The injection in Hana’s butt made her pliable to the kind female hands which helped her undress and pull on a nightdress that wasn’t hers. She descended into the soft, comfortable bed and a welcome pit of nothingness which held neither pain nor fear. Nothing but a drug induced haze would have induced her to end up there of all places.