‘If I free your hands will you be a good girl?’
She nodded. He had no particular accent and he spoke and acted as though he was bored with the whole thing. Like a shop assistant who’d rather be somewhere else. Like someone waiting for something, or someone. Waiting for time to pass.
The knife was on his belt and again he whipped it out with practised ease and cut the tape.
‘Thanks.’
The door opened and the other man appeared. He had a takeaway cup, a bottle of water and a small, white paper bag. He put them on a shelf by the door, flicked on the light and both men withdrew. The door closed and the lock clicked firmly into place. There was no handle on the inside.
She stood up, flexing her fingers and rotating her protesting wrists and shoulders. They’d brought her food and drink. She drank some of the water and sniffed at the mug. Coffee. Milky and too sweet but welcome. The paper bag had two Danish pastries, which almost made her laugh, they were so unexpected, but didn’t. She ate one slowly, not really hungry, but she needed the energy for whatever they had in mind, especially if she was to attempt an escape. How she could manage that she had no idea, but if she didn’t have a go, who would?
She had no idea how long she’d been in the storeroom before footsteps sounded outside and the door opened again. Hours. This time they took her to the bathroom and brought more water and a hamburger.
‘How long are you keeping me here?’
‘Till the boss says enough.’
‘Can I talk to him?’
But neither answered and the door banged shut again. The skinny guy had a tattoo of a cross on his forearm. A cross with flames behind it. His eyes were pale blue and flitted about like moths.
More hours dragged by. She turned off the light and waited for her eyes to adjust. Light came through under the door, just enough for her to find it in the dark. She lay on the floor and tried to sleep but it was hard concrete and impossible to be comfortable.
With the light back on, she examined the ceiling and shelves but found no convenient air vents or structural weaknesses. The door was too solid to break down and she had no shoes to protect her feet if she tried kicking it. The chair was plastic. One of those cheap stackable ones. Useless as a weapon. She could only wait and try not to panic.
Yoga filled time. She practised as many positions as she could remember and her body felt better for it. She sat on the chair and did a meditation exercise, not quite as successfully, but she’d never been very good at calming her mind at the best of times.
When would Oliver start to wonder where she was? When would anyone?
When would Moran decide she’d learned her lesson? Was this it or was he softening her up for something else? Was this lack of information part of it?
Much later the men came back, took her to the bathroom and gave her another hamburger and more water.
‘What day is it? What time? How long have I been here?’
No answer beyond the slamming of the door.
It must have been night because the next time they came it was the longest stretch without contact. The air in the enclosed space had become thick and heavy and she lay on the floor in the darkness, too exhausted to keep awake. Sleep came in fit and starts until she woke trembling, unsure if she was dreaming as her mind ran through the various scenarios for a final scene, none of them good, none of them with a happy ending. She sat up and rubbed her hands over her face.
Moran could keep her here indefinitely if he wanted. He probably wouldn’t but he could. For all Hugh’s bluster, he’d been completely ineffectual in stopping the man taking action. All over money. If that’s what he wanted she’d give it to him, and if she got the chance she’d grovel and apologise. Anything to be let out of this hideous cell before she lost her mind. Already she could feel her grasp on reality beginning to slip. Time had become meaningless. They could be feeding her at three in the morning and the middle of the afternoon for all she knew.
When the door opened and the same bathroom and food procedure began again, she said, ‘Tell your boss I’ll pay him the money.’
No reply.
She ate the food, more Danish pastries and coffee. What did Moran actually want from her? Surely he’d want his money? How long did he propose to keep her here?
They must have relayed her offer because when they reappeared countless hours later, they took her to the bathroom then, instead of taking her back to the storeroom, they taped her wrists, led her to the van and pushed her in.
‘Where are you taking me? I want to speak to Stefan Moran.’
‘Shut up or I’ll have to gag you.’
Krista clamped her mouth shut. She sat on the foam with her back against the wall. Luxury softness after the harsh concrete floor. They hadn’t taped her ankles this time so moving was easier and she shuffled around so she could see out the front. Both men got into the cab and the engine started. The roller door rattled up and the van backed out into dazzling sunlight.
From what she could see and hear they were in a quiet area with no high-rise buildings. Not in the city. It could be anywhere in the outer Melbourne environs. Each time the van turned a corner she swayed and lost her balance until she worked out how to brace herself with her feet and stay more or less upright. Then they were on a straighter stretch with louder traffic noise and the driver accelerated. A freeway. Which one?
She tried to work out the angle of the sun and from that the direction they were headed, but her view was too limited. It wasn’t early though, the sun seemed to be high overhead and it was already baking hot in the back where she sat.
They only stopped once, in a rest area, for the driver to get out. Then they were on the road again. Someone’s phone rang but she couldn’t hear any conversations in the front seat over the roar of the tyres on tarmac and the engine noise, which reverberated in the empty space.
Then, when she was on the brink of calling out for a drink, parched and wilted in the heat, with drops of sweat running down between her breasts, her bottom, and her back sore from sitting, the van slowed and stopped. The sun shone directly through the windscreen now, low and red, sinking into the horizon. Sunset. Both men donned their balaclavas and got out. The sliding door opened. Fresh air rushed in and she drew deep, grateful lungfuls even though it was still hot.
‘Get out.’
She shuffled herself to the open door and swung her legs outside and onto the ground. They were on a dirt road with trees lining the fences and dry brown paddocks stretching away on either side in the gathering dusk. The skinny guy pulled her away from the van while the other one crawled inside. He reappeared with her shoes and dropped them at her feet.
‘Put them on.’
She fumbled her feet into the sandals. The red ones Oliver had been so scornful of. They were just as useless here as they had been then but it was better than going barefoot on this stony rough road. Were they letting her go? Here in the middle of nowhere? As she straightened, the skinny guy stepped behind her and held her head between both hands. Aftershave guy stood in front of her. He had his knife in his hand.
‘The boss wants to give you something to remember him by,’ he said in that same casual tone which was terrifying now. ‘So you don’t make the same mistake again.’
His fingers stroked her cheek softly as he raised the knife with his other hand.
‘Such a shame,’ he murmured but the cold hard look in his eyes belied the words.
The breath stalled in her throat and she struggled helplessly against the hands gripping her head. A whimper escaped from her lips but he ignored it, and the screams that followed.
Chapter 16
Oliver was picking lettuce leaves in his garden to have with dinner when he heard what sounded like screaming. Faint but clear enough in the still evening. Sounded like a woman, but stopped abruptly.
‘Did you hear that?’ he asked Lola, who was busily snuffling about in the garden. She looked up and wagged her tail.
A car engine brok
e the silence, revving and accelerating until the sound died away. Another cry came but it was more a wail than a scream. It came from the road on the far side of the horse paddock. No-one lived along there. Oliver hurried into the laundry and snatched up the torch.
‘Come on,’ he said. Lola bounded after him as he strode up to the gate. A purple and orange tinge in the sky above the hills to the west marked the last of the sun but the darkness was intense here, away from street and house lights. Out on the road he paused, listening. Lola sniffed the air and ran purposefully off to the left. He followed, shining the torch ahead of them both. The road rose slowly, and then when it crested the hill swung left on the run down towards town. Trees lined the roadside, casting deeper shadows now the westerly glow had faded. Lola yipped and increased her speed.
‘Anyone there?’ he called. ‘Hello.’
‘Oliver?’ Her voice. Desperate, exhausted, filled with pain and fear.
‘Krista?’ He swung the torch wildly, adrenaline surging. ‘Where are you?’
‘Oliver.’ A figure stumbled out of the darkness of the trees. Pale hair shone in the torchlight. She tripped and almost fell but he lurched forward and caught her in his arms while Lola whimpered at their feet.
Krista clung to him as though she’d never let him go but he loosened his grip to hold her away slightly. Blood stained her face and neck. Fresh, sticky blood coming from a gaping wound in her left cheek.
‘My God. What happened?’
‘He cut me …’ She sagged against him and he staggered under the sudden weight as her legs gave way. He lowered her to the ground and yanked out his phone.
‘Hello. Doctor’s surgery.’
‘Doc? Emergency. It’s Krista. We’re on the road about two-hundred metres past my place on the way into town, your side.’
‘What’s happened?’
‘She’s bleeding badly from a facial wound, knife cut, I think. Can you come? I can’t leave her to get the car.’
‘Be right there. Does she need an ambulance?’
‘I’m not sure.’
He pulled off his shirt and held a pad of the fabric to her cheek, gently trying to stem the flow of blood then, keeping it in place, he sat beside her and held her close. ‘Doc’s on his way,’ he said.
What the hell had happened? Moran was a monster that he would do this to her. But she was alive and she was here safe in his arms. They must have dumped her. He’d heard the car.
‘What sort of vehicle was it? Krista? Was it a car?’
‘White van,’ she murmured. ‘Two men.’
He rang Rupe.
‘I’ll get onto it,’ Rupe said. ‘I’ll need to talk to her. Where will you be?’
‘At Doc’s but she may need the hospital.’
‘I’ll meet you there.’
***
Krista was dimly aware of Oliver and Doc lifting her into a car. Lola was there too, climbing onto her lap as she sat in the back seat until Oliver told her to stop it. She nestled into his arms, eyes closed against the pain, giving up the fight, brain in limbo now that she was safe, letting herself slide away on the sedative Doc had given her.
The handsome policeman was there next, leaning over her asking questions she couldn’t answer even though she wanted to and tried to make sense for him. He smiled and said he’d see her later. He and Oliver murmured together while Doc touched her face with light fingers and gave her another injection in the arm. Tetanus, she heard through the fog.
When she woke, she was in bed in a hospital. It was dark outside but the door to the corridor was open and soft yellow light shone in reassuringly. She was attached to a drip and when she touched her cheek she felt the thick padding of a bandage. The side of her face was numb. Her eyes closed.
A nurse woke her by attaching a blood pressure cuff. Daytime. Voices and the sounds of people at work came in through the door.
‘Good morning,’ she said. ‘How are you feeling?’ She had a lovely lilting Irish accent and a cheery face under a pile of ginger curls.
‘Better.’
‘Any pain?’
Krista ran her mind over her body. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘Can’t be too bad then.’
‘My face … what happened?’
‘You had a nasty cut. Do you remember? Doctor put in stitches last night when you came in.’ She undid the cuff and straightened Krista’s sheets.
‘How bad is it?’ Her stomach sagged. Stitches. Scarring?
‘Doctor will be around to see you shortly and you can ask him yourself.’
‘When can I go home?’
‘Later today, I think, but doctor will have the final say. You have a friend here. He’s been waiting to see you.’
‘Oliver?’
‘I’ll send him in. There’s a policeman too.’
‘Can I see Oliver first?’
Oliver was in the corridor outside Krista’s room talking to Rupe, who’d just arrived, when the nurse came out. She smiled at them both.
‘Krista’s awake now and she’d like to see Oliver first, if that’s all right?’ She directed the last part at Rupe.
‘Two minutes,’ he said.
Oliver went in, heart thudding. What had happened to her these last few days? How would she cope with it? How could he help and would she want his help? He and Doc had brought her here to Wagga Hospital and when, after she’d been treated, he wanted to stay all night Doc had insisted he go home, change, eat, and return in the morning. Which he had done, arriving at six to find her asleep.
Rupe had turned up fifteen minutes later and just after he arrived she was awake.
When she saw Oliver enter the room her eyes filled with tears, the last thing he expected.
‘Hey.’ He hurried to the bed and leaned down to kiss her gently on the undamaged cheek. ‘Don’t cry. What sort of welcome is that?’
‘I’m so pleased to see you,’ she said and sniffed. ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d stay.’
He drew a chair closer and sat down, keeping tight hold of her hand.
‘Of course I’m here. How are you feeling?’
‘Good, now.’ She attempted a smile but it was lopsided due to the anaesthetic and the bandage covering the left side of her face. ‘How did you find me last night? Where was I?’
‘I heard you scream and I heard the van drive away. Lola and I went to investigate. They left you just up near the horse paddock.’
‘Close to your house?’
He nodded, lips firm. ‘You should be let out of here soon.’
Her eyes filled again. ‘Where can I go?’
‘The Grange? Amy will take care of you.’
‘Yes, I suppose that’s best.’
It was on the tip of his tongue to offer his place but The Grange was her previous choice and it was better. Probably.
Rupe tapped on the door and walked straight in without waiting for an invitation.
‘Hello, Krista. How are you feeling?’
‘Better, thank you.’
‘I need to ask you some questions.’
‘Okay. I’m sorry I wasn’t much help last night.’
‘That’s all right. We picked up the van at around midnight. It had been dumped and partially burned. Stolen, of course, but forensics may get something useful.’
‘That’s good, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, possibly. Can you tell me exactly what happened leading up to and including the abduction?’
‘I can’t remember much. I tried all the time I was locked up but only bits were there. I went to dinner at a restaurant in the city—a couple of blocks from my apartment so I walked. I was with my friends and then, at about eleven, I walked with Malcolm to a taxi rank and he went home. I remember watching the cab leave, then I started walking. I don’t remember after that until I came to in the back of the van, my hands and feet were taped and I had a gag.’
‘They must have drugged you but it’s probably too late to find anything in the blood sample the hospital took last n
ight. Your dinner was on Saturday night according to what your stepfather told Oliver. Did you see the people who did it? Two, you told us.’
‘Yes.’ She closed her eyes as she described them. ‘They wore balaclavas and black T-shirts, blue jeans. One of them was skinny with pale blue eyes and a tattoo of a cross and flames on his forearm. The other one was about Oliver’s build, grey eyes, and he wore strong aftershave. Cheap and nasty. He smelled bad. Australian, no accent. He didn’t say much and the other one never spoke.’ Her eyes opened.
‘That’s terrific,’ said Rupe. ‘Well done.’
‘I tried really hard to remember details,’ she said. ‘I had nothing else to do.’
‘Can you describe where you were held? Any sounds from outside for example, smells in the air? Anything else that might help us?’
‘They brought takeaway coffee, hamburgers and Danish pastries. I thought the pastries were an odd thing. They were good, fresh from a bakery, I think.’ She closed her eyes again as she spoke, describing the shed, concentrating, never letting go of Oliver’s hand as if he were an anchor holding her in place.
When she finished, Rupe said, ‘Do have any idea who kidnapped you? Or why?’
Her expression hardened. ‘Moran’s men, I’m sure. Not the ones from before. They said they were teaching me a lesson but they kept me locked up in a storeroom and didn’t do anything and hardly spoke. Why did they do that?’
‘Did they hurt you?’
‘Not then. They brought the food and water and took me to the bathroom. But it was horrible. I think I would have gone mad if I’d been there much longer. I had to lie on the concrete floor.’
‘I think Moran is showing you, and us, that he’s in control and can do what he likes when he likes,’ said Oliver.
She swallowed hard. ‘Because I was rude to him on the phone,’ she said hoarsely.
‘I think so,’ he said gently.
‘I offered to pay the money,’ she said. ‘But that didn’t make any difference, did it?’
‘Angus paid him back,’ said Oliver.
‘Angus?’
‘Yes. He was the one who discovered you were missing. He went to your apartment early on Tuesday and rang me because he thought you might be here. But your car was half packed and your handbag and bathroom things were still there. Did you know they sent me a text from your phone saying you were going away for a few weeks?’
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