She found her way to the bucket, stubbing a toe, dicked that they’d taken her runners when they brought her here. But at least they’d left her clothes on – it was freezing enough. And it’d be so embarrassing going for help in the nuddy.
She tipped out the contents of the bucket away from her path and returned to the mirror. Using her fingers, she again mapped out the mirror, this time picturing where it was against her height. The bottom of the frame was level with her nose. The glass was three fingers stacked sideways above that.
With one arm shielding her eyes and mouth, she slammed the bucket against the mirror.
It banged, jarring her hand, setting the dog growling in the next room. But the mirror stayed intact.
Hannah bitched under her breath, then tried again, bashing the bucket harder. Still no good.
With all her might, screaming with the effort, she slammed it again. Pain shot up Hannah’s wrist and elbow. The bucket broke and plastic scattered. The dog went absolutely berko in the next room, sounding as if it’d smash through the door and tear her apart.
But the mirror shattered and the sound of glass spraying on floorboards made her heart jump. Hannah squatted and felt around. She cut her finger but came away with a huge grin and a big piece of glass.
‘Mate.’ Tash Dunn puffed down the phone line: she’d either done a 100-metre sprint or was running on adrenaline. ‘The band is Shag Em.’
‘Classy.’
‘Yeah.’ Gunner’s disgust was clear. ‘Dickson, commonly known as Dicko, is singer and guitarist. A Mike Gedsox, AKA Sexgod—see how clever they are?—is the current bassist, but that swaps and changes about as often as these losers change groupies. And the drummer –’
Franklin couldn’t help jumping in. ‘Is Ealding?’
‘AKA Ealdy. Back to Dicko: the vic is petrified of him.’ It sounded like Gunner was gritting her teeth. ‘The poor girl was only sixteen when he molested her.’
Franklin’s free hand balled tightly.
Kat’s age. The bastard.
Gunner went on. ‘She’s sure he doped her. She’d only had one beer and “felt weird”, her words. If her sister hadn’t come along when she did, he wouldn’t have stopped at digital rape.’
Franklin said, ‘Not that what Dickson did is in any way her fault, but why the hell was she anywhere near a band called Shag Em, underage and drinking to boot?’
‘They were Metal Edge back then. It was her first pub gig and she says her first taste of alcohol—but I’m not buying that bit—a treat for her birthday.’
‘What a treat.’
Gunner’s ‘Hmm’ was a growl.
‘Why’d she drop the complaint?’
‘He knows where she lives and that her mum has MS and isn’t mobile. He threatened to rape the mum if she didn’t call us off.’
‘Prick.’
Gunner agreed. ‘Anyway, she’s kept track of them so she can steer clear.’
Franklin gripped his pen so hard it snapped. ‘And?’
‘She was in Bali until yesterday and doesn’t know if they have a gig tonight.’
‘Don’t they have that stuff on their website?’
‘Apparently not.’
Hannah
Hannah couldn’t escape through the living room because the rottie was locked in there. Her chances of breaking through the boarded-up window or external wall weren’t good. Burrowing through internal walls and rooms until she reached an exit that wasn’t barricaded was her new plan.
She pulled down her right hoodie sleeve and used it to hold the shard of glass, moving to the wall furthest from the dog.
This’d better work…I don’t have a Plan C.
With her uncovered left hand she guided the glass to the wall. She pushed the tip into the plaster, planning to stab through it and then saw out a piece. But after a few tries, she started feeling desperate. It was harder than she’d expected, especially working in full darkness, and she was scared she’d cut her hand.
Hannah pressed her forehead against the wall, fighting dizziness and nausea. She closed her eyes and thought about Mum and her little bros. She pictured their faces to make her feel strong.
Her mind flicked to a different memory. She’d been at Bee’s house when they’d had a new powerpoint put in. Bee thought the electrician’s apprentice was totes sick—he was a bit of a hottie—so they’d hung around, watching. He’d used a Stanley knife to make a rectangular cut in the plaster. Not deep, more like a scratch. Then he’d given it a tap and the piece came out neatly.
Hannah grinned. Again, her left hand guided her covered right one, but this time she sliced the plaster. She had no idea what shape she’d made, but that didn’t matter if she’d joined the ends.
After dropping the glass, she thumped her right fist into the wall where she’d cut it: a perfect cross delivered from the shoulder, her rotating hip, knee and waist packing power behind the punch.
She lost balance as her knuckles broke through.
DAY FIVE
SUNDAY 2 OCTOBER
Chapter 52
Franklin glared at the so-called One-stop gig guide on his computer screen. The website listed venues, but not the bands that played there. Its only use to him would be to narrow down pubs and music venues that hosted live bands, but he’d have to individually check each to find out if Shag Em was on their books and playing tonight…if they hadn’t already played and gone.
And it could backfire if I strike a mate of Dicko or Ealding.
Although the girl Dicko assaulted reckoned the band tended to play in the outer-eastern suburbs of Melbourne, she said they also did ad hoc gigs on the peninsula, in the bayside area, Geelong and even on Phillip Island. Basically, Shag Em could be playing anywhere in Melbourne or beyond.
Franklin turned his frown from the computer to his mobile when it blazed into the VIP tone: Queen’s Crazy Little Thing Called Love.
‘Aw, lover boy. You’d better get that,’ Slam teased.
Franklin shot him a dirty look. Georgie had loaded the ringtone as a joke, but despite ribbing by his mates, he’d liked it. Tonight it grated on overstretched nerves.
‘Hey, Jack. It’s me.’ Georgie spoke over background music and voices.
His chest burned.
Before he spoke, she said, ‘Shush.’ Her voice muffled as if she’d turned her head. ‘Hang on.’ That was apparently to Franklin and little thuds and threads of voices made him think she’d covered the receiver.
So, the night’s not over for Georgie and him.
Franklin sauntered through the station and onto the front landing. Streetlights and a few houselights followed the contours of Wombat Hill and its surrounds. Earlier cloud cover had vanished. Bright stars added to shimmers in the granite horizon. A car’s headlights beamed up Camp Street as its engine grew louder, then passed the cop shop and faded.
‘Sorry, Jack. I’m back.’
‘Still at it?’ Franklin cringed at the jealous note in his voice.
She ignored it. ‘Sorry I missed your calls.’ At least she seemed genuine. ‘Great news about Riles and Coops.’
She sounded flat when she added, ‘But what does that mean for Hanny?’
He noticed that the background noise had died down, but it didn’t lift his mood.
When he said, ‘We need your assistance,’ it sounded like he had a carrot up his arse.
Then the call cut out and he stared at his mobile. She’d hung up.
Hannah
Hannah stood panting for a few minutes, scared she’d put all her energy into the first stage of her escape. There was a long way to go before she’d be safe.
After she had control of her breathing, she felt inside the hole. Upwards, she touched a straight piece of timber. Down and to the sides, there was just air.
Good.
She’d been worried that there might be wall insulation. Or lots of timberwork. And that would have really sucked because she didn’t have the protection of shoes.
Josh ha
d taught her to visualise her target. Usually, he meant aim for the centre of his kickshield or the kangaroo printed on the long bag.
Now, she pictured Ealdy’s face where the hole in the wall was. Hannah dropped her right leg behind and went through the other things Josh had coached her on, hearing his voice.
Balanced and light on the balls of your feet. Brace your core. Inhale, prepare. Exhale as you kick in a power breath. Don’t flick the knee or foot. Push through the ball and follow through. Snap back ready for the next kick.
Four kicks later, Hannah was stuffed. She crouched down, heaving breaths, feeling like she was going to die.
In a little bit, she managed to stand. Wobbly, but upright. She touched the wall, then a rush of excitement went through her body. The hole was probably big enough now. And better still, she’d kicked through both the inside and outside layers of plaster. If her shoulders fit, she’d get the rest through.
If Georgie wanted to play it that way, he’d find someone else to lure out Ealding. Or they might be able to work the sting another way if he could pinpoint the band at a gig tonight.
Franklin brought up a different gig guide and raked his eyes over the computer screen. Electronic devices had their uses but he’d never be tempted to spend his spare time surfing the net. This session had brought on a thumping headache.
Or was it his phone call with Georgie?
He sighed and narrowed his search to the Indie, rock, pop, metal, punk, covers category and still came up with fifty-one hits. At least this guide listed the bands in alpha order.
There were plenty under S. None for Shag Em.
Of bloody course.
Georgie walked on, cringing as car headlights blinded her, then relaxing when the brightness and roar of the engine passed. She checked her phone again. Still no service and Franklin was waiting for her to ring back.
He’d sounded anxious for her help…and pissed off, and she guessed the call dropping out would have made things worse.
‘I think it’s this one.’ Georgie spoke aloud, trying to read the street sign but it was hard in the dim moonlight. It had a long name, so it might be for Inverness Road.
She followed the reflectors off the Tourist Road and down the curving minor road. She’d been driven here previously and hadn’t noted landmarks and distance. On foot, in the dark, everything seemed foreign and distorted.
Georgie thought of the security blanket of a cityscape. Her comfort zone of bright lights, close neighbours, a flow of traffic even in the middle of the night.
Her mouth twisted as her mind jumped. One of the problems for her and Franklin was that she still felt a bit like a visitor in the country. With Franklin on her mind, Georgie thumbed her phone to see if she had service. There were a few bars and she dialled quickly.
Her right shin and knee slammed into something, then the left side copied. Her breath whooshed.
‘Fuck.’
She flew through the air, scraped her legs, flipped, thumped and rolled on the ground…somehow still holding her phone to her ear.
Franklin said, ‘Jesus, what was that?’
Georgie lay sprawled, glad she’d had a couple of drinks because it would’ve hurt a whole lot more if she’d been completely sober. She chuckled.
‘I think I just fell over a tree. Don’t know what it’s doing lying across the road though.’
‘Hope you’re not planning to drive anywhere tonight.’
His tone was guarded and dry, but at least they were talking.
Franklin wanted to be pissed off, but the idea of Georgie spreadeagled on the ground after catapulting over a tree made him smile. Then a chuckle gurgled out and he covered the phone while he laughed.
He drawled, ‘Do you think you’re safe from the tree now?’
‘No one likes a smartarse, Franklin.’
She laughed though.
‘Where are you?’ He smacked his head. Did he want to know?
‘Trying to find my way back to Ando’s…’
Franklin dissected her words My way. So she was alone?
‘Call someone for a lift?’
‘I think it’s just around the corner.’
They dropped into silence. Franklin could hear her breathing, scrambling around and he reminded himself that nothing but Hanny mattered right now.
He started, ‘Georgie –’ as she said, ‘You wanted my help?’
He outlined his idea and she replied, ‘Hang on.’
Franklin paced while he listened to Georgie muttering to herself. It still impressed him that a person could be on a call and messaging or using the internet at the same time on their mobile.
‘Done. I’ve sent Wylder a friend request. There’s nothing on my page that he shouldn’t see – I almost deactivated my account last month, but culled hard instead and renamed it Georgie Ellen, in case I wanted to use it personally.’
Ellen was her middle name. So, even if the bloke Googled her, he wouldn’t twig that she was a journo.
‘And I just changed my hometown to Kilsyth. Close enough to Croydon without looking obvious but good bait.’
Now that it was done, Franklin felt dirty that he’d asked his girlfriend—if she still was—to friend a paedo.
But if it saves Hanny…
Chapter 53
Hannah
It’d worked! Hannah’s heart was jumping out of her chest. She’d actually made it out of the bedroom. She felt like she did after a good boxing session, pumped and stuffed at the same time. Her head was giving her trouble, so she had to waste a few minutes leaning against the wall with her eyes closed, waiting for it to stop spinning. That stressed her out because she couldn’t judge how long it’d been since Ealdy and Dicko had left and she had no idea how soon they’d be back.
After a bit, she opened her eyes and blinked hard.
Is that for real? Or am I seeing things?
She blinked again.
Oh. My. God.
Shadows. Only just. But that meant there was light. Not a lot, but heaps better than pitch black.
Hannah moved forward until her palms touched glass. It was really cold, but she kind of whimpered because she was excited. More hopeful than ever.
She tuned into the rottie going crazy at the other end of the house. Felt more desperate than ever too.
With her nose close to the glass, she made out patchy sky, the shape of trees, a few stars and part of the moon. The window was the last obstacle to her escaping the house. And light—even a little bit of it—would help her get away.
Hannah pulled her hoodie sleeve all the way over her hand, tucking it into her scrunched fingers and held her other arm over her face. She punched the glass and it smashed.
She shrieked, thrilled, then lost balance and pitched forward.
Georgie reached a driveway that looked familiar. She eyed off the steep incline, took a breath and pushed up the hill. Her phone bleeped with a Facebook notification and she checked the screen.
Shit. We’re on.
Wylder had accepted her friend request. Then she lost service as she spotted Bernie’s marked four-wheel drive and the minivan Lunny had loaded them all into at Daylesford, but no sign of Ando’s ute. A figure slipped out of their shadow.
‘Josh?’
‘Yeah.’ He sounded edgy.
She covered the metres between them in a half-trot. ‘Is something wrong with Kat?’
The young boxer’s face was backlit by the porch light, making his eyes disappear into his tanned skin. But his shake of the head was emphatic and Georgie let out a relieved sigh.
‘She’s crashed out on Lunny’s bed – I think it all caught up with her after we heard the boys’re okay.’
It was easy to forget that Kat was only sixteen – mature and bold, but still a kid. It sucked that she’d been involved in any of this. But with any luck, they were close to finding Hannah too. Katz just needed to hang in there a little longer.
Josh rubbed a hand over his shorn head. His voice thick and low he sai
d, ‘Fortunately, she doesn’t know the latest –’
The squeak of hinges followed by a bang made them both turn towards the front door. Sam joined them, hugging her arms to her body.
Georgie’s mouth turned to dry cotton. ‘What’s happened now?’
Sam mumbled, ‘Ando called a few minutes ago.’
Georgie watched her fight emotion.
‘Bradley Horner, the firie that was injured in the search…he died.’
Sam couldn’t say any more. She pushed past Josh and Georgie and lurched down the yard. She needed to be alone.
She donned her blue uniform every workday, aware that her job involved risk of injury or death: to herself, her colleagues and the public. Those in the other agencies were also prepared to face danger to safeguard the community, and many of the SES and CFA members were unpaid volunteers – like Bradley Horner.
It was one thing to acknowledge the potential of danger, but another when it hit close to home. The death of a member in any of the emergency services felt personal and reminded each of them about their mortality.
It made Sam’s heart ache for her mamma and the rest of her loud, beautiful family. She needed hugs. But she wouldn’t phone them now. Not to help her deal with Bradley’s death. Her parents worried about her joining the force in the first place; they’d only worry harder. They’d think it could’ve easily been her because she’d been on the same search as him when he was fatally injured.
She choked, thinking about the young wife, eleven-year-old daughter and sons aged nine and five that Bradley left behind. The irony of his kids being close in age to the Savages seemed an unnecessary cruelty.
Hurtling down the steep drive, Sam twinged with guilt. She wasn’t the only one reeling after Ando’s call. Lunny was inside running his fingers through his white hair. Josh’s face had been etched with strain back there, and Georgie had stood in stunned silence.
Into the Fog Page 28