Desert Demon (Foley & Rose Book 7)

by Gary Gregor

  The knock on the door startled her. She put the iron aside, ran her hand over her husband’s freshly pressed uniform shirt, and spoke to Miriam Pultara, an elderly widowed aboriginal woman who lived in Kulgera and was employed by the government as a cleaner and gardener for the two premises occupied by the officer-in-charge and his 2IC.

  “Someone’s at the door, Miriam,” Lara said. “Excuse me while I see who it is.”

  She walked up the small hallway to the front door of the home she shared with her husband, and opened the door to find a stranger standing on the doorstep, outside a wire-mesh security door. He was smiling.

  “Hello,” Lara said, returning the man’s friendly smile. “Can I help you?”

  The man had one hand behind his back. Lara gasped in surprise as he brought his hand around to the front and pointed a handgun at her smiling face. She did not hear the sharp “ppfft” or see the tiny puff of smoke waft from the end of the barrel of the weapon as the man pulled the trigger.

  The .45-calibre projectile crashed through the thin mesh of the security door and struck Lara above her right eye. Deviating slightly from its intended trajectory when it impacted the wire mesh of the security door, the bullet ploughed through the side of her head, leaving a deep open furrow from her forehead through to the back of her head, exiting in her hairline just behind her right ear.

  Lara’s legs simply folded beneath her and, with a loud thud, she fell to the floor and lay motionless on her right side, blood pooling rapidly beneath her head.

  Miriam Pultara looked up when she heard the sound of something falling. The sound had come from the hallway along which Lara had just exited from the kitchen. She placed her coffee mug on the table. “Missus?” she called softly. “You okay, Missus?” Like a sudden, unexplained premonition of impending danger, a feeling of dread washed over Miriam. She got up from the kitchen table and called again. “Missus?”

  When she got no response, Miriam stepped tentatively across the tiled kitchen floor and paused at the hallway entrance. For some reason, she did not want to look around the corner and along the length of the hallway, off of which lay three separate bedrooms. It was an intuitive feeling. Something was wrong. Lara had not answered her when she called. Something was terribly wrong. Then, as she struggled with her desire not to look along the hallway, from somewhere outside, she heard a vehicle door slam and the sound of a vehicle speeding away from the house.

  Miriam did not want to look along the hallway for fear of what she might see. She called softly again. “Missus?” You alright, Missus?”

  She got no response. Steeling herself, Miriam took one small step forward, leaned forward and peeked cautiously around the hallway entrance. Lara lay on her side at the end of the hallway. She was not moving and a pool of red spread slowly beneath her head.

  Miriam’s hand flew to her mouth and she moaned in horror at the awful spectacle. She turned and ran for the back door, pushed through it, and ran into the small backyard.

  Barbara Logan called for her husband who was working in the large power generator shed behind the roadhouse. She showed the hysterical Miriam to a table in the roadhouse dining room and insisted she sit, and then ordered her young backpacker staff member to look after the shopfront.

  Frank Logan hurried through the rear of the roadhouse, through the kitchen area, and into the front of the premises. As soon as he saw the look on his wife’s face, he knew something was terribly wrong. He rushed to her side and stammered, “Wh-what? What’s h-happened?”

  “It’s Lara, Frank! She’s had an accident.”

  “An accident? What happened?”

  “I don’t know. We have to get over to her house and see. Miriam said she was on the floor and there was a lot of blood.”

  Frank Logan looked across the room and saw Miriam Pultara sitting at a nearby table. She was keening softly and wiping her eyes with a serviette. A small pile of crumpled serviettes lay on the table in front of her.

  “Come on, Frank, we have to go,” Barbara insisted.

  Frank and Barbara Logan hurried from the roadhouse, climbed into the roadhouse utility parked in front of the building and sped the short distance to Moose and Lara McKenzie’s home. The found Lara McKenzie on the floor just inside the open front door of the house.

  “Lara! Lara!” Barbara Logan knelt beside the prone woman. “Oh Lara!” she cried softly. “Lara!”

  “Move aside, Barb.” Frank Logan dropped to his knees. “I need to check for a pulse.”

  “She’s breathing, Frank,” Barbara said frantically. “I can hear her breathing.”

  “Yes, I can hear it now,” Frank confirmed. “She’s hurt bad, Barb. We need to get an ambulance here as soon as possible. She needs professional medical attention.”

  “What do you think happened?”

  “I don’t know,” Frank answered. “It looks like a blow to the side of her head with something very heavy, or someone shot her.”

  “Shot her? Who would shoot her?”

  “I don’t know if she was shot, Barbara. I’m guessing. You stay with her, talk to her. I’ll call an ambulance.”

  “She can’t hear me,” Barbara stated anxiously. “I’ve been calling her name and she doesn’t respond. She can’t hear me.”

  “Keep talking to her anyway,” Frank insisted. “I’m going to call for an ambulance.”

  “An ambulance has to come all the way from Alice Springs. It’s going to take at least two hours to get here.”

  “Well, the sooner I call, the sooner it will get here.”

  “Call Judy Farmer from Erldunda,” Barbara said. “She was a nurse until she and Tom took over the roadhouse. She will come down and care for her until the ambulance gets here.”

  “Okay. Let’s roll her onto her back first. Then, see if you can find a pillow for her head and a towel or something for the wound. You will need to keep a steady pressure on it to stem the bleeding.”

  Barbara looked at the pool of blood beneath Lara’s head. The bleeding seemed to have slowed, even in the short while she and Frank had been there. “I don’t think she is bleeding as much as she was.”

  “She has lost a lot of blood. We have to stem the bleeding. Hold a towel to her head and keep it there until Judy gets here.” He reached across Lara’s prone body. “Help me turn her onto her back, Barb. Gently now,” he cautioned.

  When Lara was on her back, Frank jumped to his feet. “Take care of her, love. I’m going to call for help.”

  “Call Moose too, Frank! He needs to know about this as soon as possible.”

  “Okay.” Frank turned to leave, and as he was about to, noticed a hole the size of a ten-cent piece in the mesh of the security door. He leaned closer, focusing on the hole.

  “What is it, Frank?”

  “There’s a hole in the security door,” Frank answered, eyeing it closely.

  “A hole?”

  “Yes, a hole. Look,” he pointed. “It’s about head high.”

  “Forget the hole,” Barbara insisted. “Call Moose, Judy, and an ambulance.”

  “This door was only fitted a few days ago. It was brand new.”

  “Shit, Frank!” Barbara spat. “Forget about the bloody hole and make the calls!”

  “I think it’s a gunshot,” Frank said, shocked. “I think this hole was made by a gunshot. I think somebody shot Lara.”

  18

  Russell Foley moved away from the vehicle; they had stopped near the entrance to Uluru. He and Sam had been talking to the driver, accompanied by his family and visiting Uluru and, after confirming his bona fides were in order, Foley welcomed the family to Uluru and waved them through the roadblock, allowing him to continue on his way.

  Foley’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He fished it out and looked at the caller ID. Yap Yap Barker’s name glowed on the screen. “Hey, boss.”

  “Where are you, Russell?” Barker asked.

  “Still at Yulara,” Foley replied. “Why, what’s up?”

  “Y
ou and Sam need to get to Kulgera as soon as you can.”

  “Problem?”

  “A big one,” Barker answered grimly. “Looks like we might have another victim.”

  “Another one?”

  “It’s Moose McKenzie’s wife, Russ. Looks like she was shot when she went to answer a knock at the front door.”

  “Oh shit! The front door of their home?”

  “Looks like.”

  “Tell me your kidding,” Russell urged.

  “Be a pretty sick joke if I was kidding, Russell.”

  “Is she … dead?” Foley asked, his voice filled with dread.

  “Breathing but unresponsive, according to the roadhouse manager. There is a trained nurse from Erldunda on the way there as we speak. Bastard shot her in the head.”

  “The head? Sounds like our man. Jesus! Was Moose there?”

  “Moose and Colin Palmer were down the highway, attending a fatal road accident. Lara and the aboriginal cleaner woman were alone in the house. Lara went to answer a knock on her front door and, when she opened it, the perp shot her through the screen-mesh door.”

  “Ambulance?” Foley asked.

  “Left Alice Springs half an hour ago. I’m calling you from my car. I’m on my way down there. I want you and Sam to get there as soon as you can.”

  “We’ll leave immediately,” Foley declared. “Should be there in a couple of hours.”

  “Keep your eyes peeled, Russell. This prick is on the move!”

  “Roger that, boss. We’ll see you soon.” Foley ended the call and dropped the phone back in his pocket. He turned back to where Sam was talking to another driver.

  “Thanks for your co-operation,” Sam said to the driver. “Enjoy your stay at Uluru.”

  As the vehicle drove away, Sam turned to Foley. “Shit! You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “We gotta go, mate. The perp just struck again. Bastard shot Lara McKenzie.”

  “Moose’s wife?”

  “Yeah. Moose and Palmer were away on a job down the track. Bastard shot her through the front door of her house.”

  “Is she …?”

  “Dead? No, not as of a few minutes ago. She is breathing but unconscious. Ambulance is on the way there from Alice. So is Yap Yap. We need to get to Kulgera fast.”

  ‘Okay,” Sam said, his expression solemn. “I’ll call Sarah from the car and let her know.”

  Russell Foley drove along the Lasseter Highway towards Erldunda at a speed bordering on dangerous. The portable blue light temporarily mounted on the dash of their unmarked police vehicle flashed continually throughout the trip. When approaching a vehicle travelling in the same direction but at a much slower speed, Sam activated the siren, keeping it sounding shrilly until they were safely past the slower vehicle.

  “I can’t fuckin’ believe it,” Foley said, turning to speak to Sam. “Lara McKenzie. Moose and Lara are probably the happiest couple I’ve ever met.”

  “Don’t look at me, Russ!” Sam indicated the road ahead. “You can still talk and watch the road at the same time. We’re low flying here!”

  Foley turned his attention back to the road. “Why Lara? Why would anyone want to harm Lara?”

  “If this is the same perp we’re looking for, I don’t suppose he knows, or cares, how happy Moose and Lara are.”

  “Gotta be the same perp,” Foley stated. “Sounds identical to all the other shootings. One shot to the head and then he’s gone as quickly as he arrived.”

  “Pretty bold move,” Sam said.

  “Bold?”

  “Yeah, think about it, Russ. Moose and Lara’s house is immediately behind the police station building, on the same piece of land. The station has a bloody great sign out front with ‘police’ emblazoned across it in large block letters you can see a mile away. He had to know it was a police house, and he had to know Lara was a police officer’s wife. I think that’s bold, and I think the prick is getting bolder.”

  “How did he know Moose was not there?” Foley frowned. “Surely he wouldn’t try something like that if he knew there was an armed police officer right there in the house.”

  Sam shrugged. “I don’t know, mate. When we catch up with the prick, you can ask him.”

  “Well, I hope it’s you and me who catch up with him,” Foley declared. “When we do, I’m gonna shoot the arsehole. Fuck the reading-his-rights and taking-him-into-custody crap. I’m just gonna shoot the bastard and save the government the expense of keeping him locked up for fifty years.”

  “I’ve known you for a long time. You won’t shoot him. You’re too much of a goody-two-shoes. Let me shoot him.”

  “Goody-two-shoes? I’m not a goody-two-shoes.”

  “Yes, you are, Russ. By-the-book-Foley, they call you.”

  Foley gazed at Sam. “Who calls me that?”

  “Everybody, Russ … everyone except me. I would never call you that.” He waved his hand at the road ahead. “Watch the bloody road! You’re gonna kill us both before either one of us gets the chance to shoot the perp.”

  Foley glanced at the speedometer and noticed the fuel gage read almost empty. “We need to refuel.”

  “Erldunda can’t be more than a few kilometres away,” Sam said. “We gonna make it?”

  “Yeah, we’ll make it. We’ll take a brief stop there and refuel.”

  The street in front of the Kulgera police station looked like a dumping ground for unwanted police vehicles. There were two General Duties patrol cars, an unmarked Major Crime vehicle, a police Forensics vehicle, and Yap Yap Barker’s unmarked sedan, all parked close together in front of the police station building at the end of a short no-through road.

  Foley parked on the dirt verge on the righthand side, opposite the station. “Look at this,” he gestured. “Are there any cops left in Alice Springs?”

  “Shoot a cop, or a member of a cop’s family, and every cop in the Territory wants a piece of the action,” Sam answered gravely. “Including you and me.”

  “I’ve wanted this prick since he killed the Watson family,” Foley said. “I want him so bad, it bloody hurts.”

  “Yeah, me too, mate.”

  Inside the station, two General Duties officers sat talking quietly to each other behind the short, front reception counter. When Foley and Sam entered, they looked up, their facial expressions funereal, lending a maudlin atmosphere to the compact room.

  “Hey fellas,” Foley greeted the two uniformed members.

  “Bad day for the job,” one of them said.

  “Yeah, mate,” Foley agreed quietly. “Sometimes this job can be a real bitch. Yap Yap in the house?”

  “Yeah, he’s with John Singh from Forensics.” He thrust a thumb towards the rear of the station. “You can go out through the back door.”

  “Thanks.” Foley and Sam made their way behind the front counter, along a short corridor, and onwards to the rear door of the small “two-man” station.

  Two more uniformed cops, posted on each side of the front door to Moose McKenzie’s home, sat in chairs borrowed from a three-piece outdoor setting at one end of the front porch. After exchanging greetings, Foley and Sam stood close together, outside the open front door. Just inside, Sergeant John Singh, OIC of the police Forensics department was busy photographing and documenting the scene, his head bowed over a large blood stain on the floor. He did not hear Foley and Sam approach.

  “Singho,” Sam called through the open door.

  Singh snapped two more photos and then looked up. The camera dangled from a strap around his neck. “Russel, Sam. I heard you were out at Uluru.”

  “We were,” Sam acknowledged. “We came as soon as we heard.”

  “Any news on Lara?” Foley asked.

  “She was alive when she left here in the ambulance, and alive when she arrived at the hospital in Alice Springs. Alive but unresponsive. That’s the latest news I have.” He thrust a thumb towards the rear of the house. “The boss is through the back, in the kitchen. I believe
he is on the phone with Moose at the moment.”

  “You find the bullet, Singho?” Sam asked.

  He fumbled in his pocket and removed a small, plastic zip-lock evidence bag and handed it to Sam. “Looks like a point-four-five calibre. I dug it out of the wall behind me.” He indicated a hole in the plaster of the wall halfway along the passage. “It’s badly bent out of shape but I’m sure it’s a forty-five. I’ve seen a few of them in my time. Glanced off one of the support struts in the wire door. Probably saved Lara from getting it square in the head. Then, it deviated further off the side of her head before lodging in the wall.”

  Sam looked at the badly misshapen bullet and then at the hole in the screen door. He handed the small evidence bag to Foley, who examined it closely before handing it back to Singh.

  “We need to speak to Yap Yap,” Foley said. “We’ll go around the back.”

  “You can come through here. I’m almost done. Just be careful stepping around the blood.”

  Cameron Yap Yap Barker glanced at his watch. “You made good time,” he said as Foley and Sam entered the kitchen.

  “How’s Lara?” Sam asked.

  “I just got off the phone to Moose,” Barker answered. “He followed the ambulance to Alice Springs. Lara has been placed in Intensive Care in an induced coma. The doctors want to operate but apparently there is a lot of swelling and they need to wait for it to settle.”