Don't Leave Me Breathless

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Don't Leave Me Breathless Page 23

by A Kelly


  ‘Scooter!’ Chris tried.

  She ignored him completely.

  So the men kept trying… ‘Scoot!’ ‘Scooby!’ ‘Scoop!’ ‘Scooty!’

  ‘Shelley!’ Chris said keenly while repeatedly tapping his thighs. The dog just tucked herself in more towards the back of the table.

  ‘Gosh, you’re so bad!’ Scipio said.

  ‘Summer!’ Chris went on.

  Scipio was about to shush him but to his surprise (and horror) Scooter suddenly turned alert.

  ‘Geez… I wasn’t expecting that,’ Chris mumbled innocently.

  ‘Well I ain’t gonna name her Summer!’ Scipio said. And once more Scooter reacted, her eyes focused on him. ‘Come here, Scooter,’ he said and approached her, but she coiled back and returned to her curling position.

  ‘She was here,’ Chris said. ‘Your Summer.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Like… half an hour ago.’

  ‘And you’re just telling me now? Did she say anything?’

  ‘Nope. She just left when I said you weren’t here.’

  And she wasn’t answering her mobile. Summer… Summer… Summer… Scipio quickly ran out of the shop. Scooter soon shed her timid-dog attitude and eagerly followed. She wasn’t far behind, in fact, she was ahead of him and running faster… and now Scipio was sure the dog was a goner.

  ‘Scooter!’ Scipio shouted and sprinted towards where she’d gone. Around the street corner he saw her, sitting at attention next to a Rav4, Summer’s Rav4.

  As he was about to pick Scooter up, he realised Summer was in the car, in the driver’s seat looking at him with concern. The back rest covered her hunching body, so the car had looked empty when he approached from the back.

  ‘Scipio! I was looking for you,’ she said as she hopped out. Then she jumped back, not realising Scooter was right under the door. ‘Oh! It’s you! Sorry.’ She briefly patted Scooter as the dog was surprised by Summer’s sudden movement.

  Soon Scooter wagged her tail and stayed in position, right next to Scipio’s feet. The dog looked at him as if saying: acknowledgement, please.

  ‘Good girl!’ he said. But Scooter didn't change her expression. Maybe it was his voice again that didn’t get through to her.

  ‘You’re adopting her?’ Summer said.

  ‘Umm… no, I was just trying to get Caine off my tail for a day.’

  She put her hand on the car window. Her fingers trembled.

  ‘Hey, what is it?’

  ‘Hold me.’

  Scipio squeezed her trembling hand and drove it to his chest.

  ‘I'm having those thoughts again,’ Summer whispered and buried her face in his shoulder.

  ‘I’m here,’ he said.

  She took a couple of deep breaths. Just like that, Scooter relaxed and lay down.

  24

  The price of freedom

  Summer plumped up Scipio’s pillows – their pillows. She had been staying at Scipio’s house ever since Bobby had found them in Penguin. Tonight, she reminded herself again to get her pillow from the Beam House – the one Scipio had called an over-filled rice sack. Then her phone rang.

  ‘Hello, Summer.’

  So many words she wanted to say, but front of mind was Bobby’s text message threatening to kill Scipio. ‘Don’t you ever touch him!’

  ‘Oh, well, I’m fine, thanks for asking.’ Bobby chuckled. ‘I miss you. Seems you’ve lost your hybrid accent.’

  Her American-Australian accent she’d put on when she’d been with Bobby.

  ‘You’re dealing with me, you understand? You deal with me.’

  ‘He reminds me of Tim.’

  Summer was silent this time.

  ‘Oh… it took me a while to figure it all out. You were so easily tracked at the beginning. Remember Mo?’

  She’d been right.

  Bobby continued, ‘You asked me to ditch him. Well, I did, as my supplier, but not as a friend. He’s my very smart mobile engineer friend. He tracked you from Victor Harbour, Dubbo, Ballina, Palm Cove, Darwin, Katherine, Pamayu. Oh, I know you changed your SIM cards and all, but you chose small towns, where new mobile accounts don’t come up in hundreds. We could guess where you were even though sometimes it wasn’t pinpoint accuracy. Problem with being exceptionally beautiful. When you go to obscure places, people talk about you.

  ‘Then you disappeared. We thought you knew your mobile was being tracked.’

  Her phone had been fried in Pamayu, she remembered.

  ‘It was a mission to finally find you again in Mt Isa, which eventually led me to Sydney. Unfortunately, my dear Mo got arrested, but he’d done enough. In my search, the house of Joseph Rideau came up and people in the neighbourhood called you Summer Rideau. Wow! You kept that hidden well. I didn’t marry the wrong girl.’ He paused. ‘Well, going back to Tim…’

  ‘Bobby, you want me back? Take me, if you dare. Leave everyone else. Just you and me.’

  ‘Talk about cutting to the chase, Summer! I’m glad you didn’t say the word police. You’re too smart for that, aren’t you? Well, going back to Tim. Once again you disappeared from Sydney before I could get to you. It was impossible to track your new number out of the hundreds of new accounts created in Sydney every day. It was just a hunch. When I ransacked your house, I didn’t think much of Tim’s letter initially. But I ran his phone records and some Tasmanian numbers came up. Once I found out you were in Penguin, you had nowhere to hide – phone, address, lover. Am I not smart, Summer?’

  ‘Did you go to my mum?’

  She heard him chuckle.

  ‘Pathetic!’ she said in a trembling voice.

  ‘Well, looking back, it was actually a mistake. I went to jail because of it. Wrong clue. My fault. I let my guards down, I was too hungry to have you again. God! In Darwin, you felt so good,’ he said. She could feel him reliving the rape. ‘But I did track you here eventually.’

  ‘What do you want, Bobby?’

  ‘I miss you. I want to see you again.’

  ‘You know what will happen when you see me next, don’t you?’

  Bobby laughed. ‘Show me then.’

  He hung up.

  A few seconds later Summer received a text message: a deadly dose away, with a photo of Scipio’s ibuprofen stash in the glovebox of his car.

  Her throat was filled with acid and slime. She ran to the bathroom and threw up.

  He’d only spent a few hours holding Scooter’s leash, but Scipio felt there was something missing now that the mutt wasn’t with him. If Scooter had been his pet he’d imagined she would’ve been standing behind the door ready to greet him, like Piper always had. But instead, Scipio opened the door to Summer looking at him intensely.

  ‘Where’s Scooter?’ she asked.

  ‘I dropped her back at the shelter,’ he said.

  She released a silent breath and gave him a half smile. ‘You didn’t like her?’

  ‘It’s not that.’ He wiped her mouth. There must’ve been some remnants of her vomit. ‘You got sick again?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Scipio… did you take any painkillers from your car?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Did you take any painkillers from your car?’

  Scipio pursed his lips.

  Summer trembled. She said, ‘You did? Did you notice anything? That it’s been tampered with or something?’

  ‘I’m calling Detective Varro!’

  ‘Scipio, no!’ Summer clutched his hand.

  ‘Why are you protecting him?’

  ‘The police are no match! And I don’t want him to hurt you. I will avoid that at all costs!’

  Scipio hugged Summer. He kissed her crown again and again. ‘Summer, I’ve never said this. But I am afraid.’

  ‘Me, too,’ she said.

  ‘I’m more afraid of what you’ll do.’

  ‘I’m not gonna do anything.’

  ‘Please, let’s
call Detective Varro. Please. I’m begging you.’

  Summer let out a long sigh. She nodded.

  As they embraced, Scipio could’ve sworn Bobby was on the other side of the wall, plotting another way to kill him.

  Summer felt the acid and slime climbing up her throat again when Varro talked about how his task force was closing in on Bobby.

  ‘That call came from a payphone in Clifton Hill; we had a few confirmed sightings around the area, and based on the latest tip-off, we know Bobby is still in Victoria.’

  ‘He’ll let you know what he wants you to know,’ said Summer flatly.

  ‘Well, you told me once that your husband had changed, and you didn’t know him anymore.’

  Summer rolled her eyes.

  ‘Maybe you should listen to her,’ Scipio said.

  ‘Trust me, we’re close,’ Varro said.

  ‘In the meantime, are we going to have police protection?’ Scipio asked, squeezing Summer’s hand.

  ‘He’s on the mainland, and we’ll keep him there. We’ve been monitoring all flights going to Tasmania, and the ferries, too. If he’s heading this way, we’ll know.’

  Scipio shook his head.

  ‘Mr Russo, the Tasmania Police will do their job; they will keep everyone safe including you and Ms Rideau. We can’t justify giving you 24-hour protection at this stage. They’re already spread thin – I’m sure you’ve heard of Alice Carter – the girl who went missing in Devonport last week.’

  ‘Of course,’ Summer said. ‘Thank you for your hard work on this, Detective Varro. I’ll see you out.’

  While Scipio slumped back into the sofa, Summer stepped out and pulled Varro aside. ‘You have to at least get someone to watch over my fiancé. Bobby won’t hurt me, but he will hurt him.’

  ‘We’ll do everything we can, Ms Rideau,’ Varro said.

  Summer came back from the grocery shop to find a package protruding from her mailbox. A mobile phone, all set up with a passcode pasted on the back. As soon as it was ready, a text message greeted her: ‘Naughty, naughty girl!’

  Cold warmth filled the base of her neck.

  Soon it rang and the caller ID showed Scipio’s home phone.

  She did a double-take. Scipio was at El Perro, shouting Caine dinner to celebrate a record number of adoptions at the shelter. Had he left early? No, his car wasn’t in the driveway. She convinced herself he wasn’t home and declined the call – giving herself time to think about what to do.

  After she put the groceries away, the phone rang again. This time she took a hammer and headed next door.

  The ringing stopped as soon as she stepped inside. There were movements. She was about to swing the hammer in her hand to hit whoever was behind the wall, but all she saw was an old man.

  She only paused for a second and the old man used it to make his move. He kicked her hand, forcing her to let go of the hammer, then he hooked his arm around her neck. It was a force she’d never encountered before, but she recognised it.

  Summer thumped her boot-clad foot onto his. He was wearing only a pair of sneakers; he screamed and loosened his grip, but he hadn’t let go of her.

  Still restricted by a relentless, rope-like restraint, with the room she had around her, she tried to elbow his solar plexus, but a sting in her arm left her helpless.

  The man caught her before she fell to the floor. Barely conscious, she felt his arms carrying her – gently, carefully. She felt a kiss, then coldness as her back touched Scipio’s cotton bedsheet. Even though her head rested comfortably, on her own pillow, her neck stiffened. Her eyes became unbearably heavy as the tranquiliser kicked in. When everything turned black, she felt evenly spread weight on her chest. Muscle and flesh.

  ‘Hello, Summer.’

  Summer woke up to Bobby’s voice and his familiar breathing. Her hands were tied to the bed. She mumbled a few words, then cleared her throat. She appraised the man sitting next to her. There was no trace of his wrinkly face, but his hair was still grey.

  ‘What do you want, Bobby?’

  ‘Wasn’t I good?’ Bobby said.

  ‘I must admit you fooled me.’

  ‘It’s a pity you have to lie like this, all drugged up,’ he said. ‘I’ve watched you, almost every day. You had this glow – something that I thought a happy wife should’ve had. You weren’t happy with me, Summer?’

  ‘To you a happy wife is a breathless wife.’

  ‘True. Still…’ he said. ‘That Joseph, he’s done well.’

  ‘You leave him alone, you hear me?’

  ‘What would you do? You’ve become weak now that you’re with him. And stupid!’ He squeezed her chin. ‘You called the police? Seriously, Summer? That was an insult!’

  Bobby reached for his mobile phone. ‘Did they say I was in their sights or something? Remember that constable, Robert Spirou? They called him Sponge Bob?’ He showed Summer an online article.

  Decorated officer dies in freak accident

  The article included a photo of the constable rock climbing.

  Summer closed her eyes.

  ‘Let’s say he got careless with his ropework. The Blue Mountains can be unforgiving.’

  ‘Now that was stupid! The police will be even more determined to catch you!’

  ‘Oh, yeah! They’ve put surveillance everywhere, haven’t they? But Summer… look at me. I’m here,’ he said. ‘Flying. These days it’s the same as taking the bus or hailing a taxi. I could’ve checked in as Donald Duck and they’d still say welcome aboard.’

  ‘Let’s make it a fair fight, eh, Bobby? With me tied up and drugged, you will win, but it won’t be satisfying.’

  ‘I’m not here to fight, Summer. I’m not here to take you.’

  Summer frowned, to which Bobby replied with laughter, ‘One can move on, you know. When I was with that woman that night, at Aberdare Street… wow, well, I thought it was you. She felt like you, but better.’

  Summer curled her lips.

  He laughed even louder. ‘Jealous, are we?’

  ‘You really are a psychopath.’

  ‘I’m just trying to prove a point. Oh, and Joseph might’ve seen my temporary girlfriend, well, she was good too.’

  ‘You’re not here to boast about your sexual conquests.’

  ‘No, but it made a nice introduction, don’t you think?’ He stooped over her, his nose almost touching hers. ‘I know about your inheritance.’

  ‘So, you want money.’

  ‘Yes. You want Joseph to stay alive? You want to be with him? You want to divorce me?’

  ‘You’re married to Summer Washington.’

  ‘I know. Still, you really want to stay married to a psychopath while being a dutiful wife to a wholesome man?’

  You can’t have two husbands.

  ‘You want me out of your life? I want half of your fortune.’

  ‘You might divorce me, but you won’t let me go. And where would you go with all that money? To the Caymans?’

  Bobby looked at her. Those eyes had intentions, just like when he’d said I’m not a threat in his video interview. He put his palm on her cheek. Those calluses had hardened – probably from rigorous weight training and perhaps boxing. His forearm was lined with fresh track marks. ‘I love you with all my heart. But it’s time to let go. Let’s put it this way. Pay me, and I will guarantee Joseph’s safety. Do anything stupid, again … you know what I’m capable of.’

  ‘I don’t have the money.’

  ‘Shall we try again…’ Bobby said. ‘I saw your Joseph just now. He was sharing Panza De Cerdo and Setas Fritas with that friend of his… what’s his name? Caine Lawlor? I have friends, Summer. You’ll never know who might drop poison in his coffee, or fiddle with his car.’

  ‘I gave it all to charities!’

  He laughed out loud. ‘Come on, you’re not that stupid, Summer.’

  ‘I am that stupid.’

  ‘Well, you should’ve thought about me before doing that.’

  She blinked
.

  ‘Huh, you didn’t think I was going to find out? How naïve of you! You inherited $408,701. I’m your husband. We don’t have a prenup. So, I’m entitled to half. Am I being fair?’

  ‘I don’t have the money.’

  ‘So, you’ll just have to be mine forever. And Joseph, well, he won’t die of a broken heart, I can assure you. It will be much worse,’ Bobby mocked.

  ‘I’ll give you 50K. You’ve moved on, so let me move on, too.’

  ‘So, you do have the money.’

  ‘It’s my own money.’

  ‘$204,350. I saved you 50 cents. The price of freedom.’

  ‘50K.’

  ‘$204,350, Summer.’

  ‘I don’t have that much. Check my account! 50K is a lot of money.’

  ‘Not as much as I should’ve got.’

  ‘$72,175.’

  ‘So you have more?’

  ‘No. I’ll borrow from the bank.’

  ‘I want to see you desperate. But you’re not the type, are you? The only time I saw you desperate was that night in Darwin. That bottle scared you, huh?’

  ‘70K or nothing.’

  ‘All right. Instead of killing him, I might just make him crippled then?’ He smirked.

  Summer pulled her arms, trying to break free, but she couldn’t get any slack.

  ‘Kidding!’ he said glancing at her from head to toe. ‘Fine. 70K. A psychopath can have goodwill, you know. I’ll miss you, Summer. I have missed you more than you know. But to love someone is to set her free. And I’m doing it. I’ll get back to you.’ He tossed the mobile phone she’d dropped when he’d sedated her.

  After kissing her neck, Bobby planted a knife in her hand and left the house, whistling.

  Had Bobby raped her when she’d been unconscious? She smelled herself all over and concluded he hadn’t. He might’ve used a condom, but he would’ve still sweated. She would’ve detected that acidic scent, his distinct sex sweat – on her pelvis, her thighs, her panties. But what had that weight been on her chest? Maybe he was just leaning to kiss her or to look at her closely. There was no bruise on her neck and she felt no pain anywhere.

 

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