Beyond Fear (26 page)

The thought hit him like a sledgehammer. His breath turned hard and fast and his heart felt like it was lodged in his throat. No, Jodie. Don’t count on him. Not Matt Fuck-up Wiseman. ‘Goddamn it!’ She was asking for his help. She didn’t know his speciality was getting innocent victims killed. Dread churned in his gut. Whatever the hell was going on up there, he’d probably made it worse by turning up on the doorstep. Which made him responsible, at least in part.

He heard the gunshots in his head. Loud, abrupt reports. He squeezed his eyes shut. Don’t go there, Matt. Don’t think about it. Think about the barn. Think about Jodie.

She needed help. She needed a cop.

He slowed to make the turn at the intersection to Tom and Monica’s road, dialling the pub again as he did. ‘Reg, did he leave a mobile number?’

‘Got cut off before, huh?’

‘Yeah. Did he leave a number?’

‘Who?’

‘The detective.’

‘Not that I know of. I could ask Marg. She only left about ten minutes ago.’

Matt slammed a hand against the steering wheel. He could talk Carraro into going up there. Make a deal with him – give up what he knew about the locals for the John Kruger investigation in return for Carraro checking out the barn. Tonight. Now. ‘You got a number for the Chinese restaurant, Reg?’

‘Somewhere here.’ Matt could hear him shuffling through paper. ‘Last time I looked at the local business board it was here.’ He chuckled. ‘Got three numbers for plumbers, if you’re interested. Shit, that guy died two years ago.’

Matt gritted his teeth, forced himself to breathe slower. Focus on Carraro. He could handle a tight situation. He could handle the Kruger investigation, too. He didn’t need Matt’s help, for Christ’s sake. Anger flared as he thought how Carraro had badgered him at the service station.
What’s Kruger’s story?
he’d said. Matt frowned suddenly. Carraro had said something else. At the time, he’d been trying not to listen. What was it? He forced his mind back.
What’s Kruger’s story?
Then,
What’s the go with the builders?

The old, familiar buzz started up in his head. More snippets of conversation jumped out at him. Jodie had said there’d been a car on the hill during the night. And she’d asked him about poachers.

‘Reg?’

‘Still looking for the number, mate.’

‘Reg, listen. Do you know who was doing the building work at John Kruger’s house?’

‘Pretty sure Warren Puller had that, put the Anderson brothers on to help with the heavy stuff. He asked . . .’

Reg was still talking as Matt hung up. He pulled over to the side of the road, yanked on the handbrake and sat very still. His hands gripped the steering wheel and his heart beat hard.

Instinct was telling him something. About the barn. About Carraro. The Andersons. He didn’t trust his instinct, he wanted to tell it to get stuffed – but Jodie’s voice rang in his ears.

Don’t you get it? If you had a goddamn brain, you’d figure it out.

So figure it out.

If Jodie was lying for his benefit, what else was she telling him?

He focused on the dark road ahead, the gum trees looming in on either side like a murky tunnel, letting his thoughts get into a familiar rhythm – listing facts, sorting and sifting them. He kept coming back to the few moments she’d done most of the talking, when she’d been ranting at him.

You can’t just turn up like this.

It’s over. We’re finished.

What about who you’re with?

Not Jodie, that was for sure.

What happened last night was great, the best.

What
had
happened last night?

He’d gone out to their crash site. He took two of her friends into town. He went back for Jodie and the other one. Took them to the pub. Got rid of a letch. Lent her his jacket. Saw them off in the loan car. Wait. Back up.

The letch. Kane Anderson.

His stomach tightened. Christ, would he . . . ?

Matt remembered the Old Barn back then, the Andersons’ filthy squat. It was just him and Kane there that afternoon. Seven years ago – three weeks after the teenage girl had gone missing, two weeks since the search team had left. They’d scoured the entire hill, found nothing. All they’d had was the girl seen bumming a cigarette off Kane Anderson.
She was here. I know she was
, Matt had roared. Kane had grinned over the forearm Matt pressed against his throat, blood from the cut lip staining his teeth red, and said,
You’ll never find her.
Matt had a black eye for a week but not enough to charge the bastard with murder. Knowing and proving were two different things and the detectives had let Kane go.

What about who you’re with?

In the bakery this afternoon, Rhona had said he was a cop.
You’re with the police?
Jodie had said afterwards.
Not
with
the police. I’m on leave
, he’d said.

Who are you with, Matt?

The cops.

23

Jodie kept her face to the front door, heart pounding, too afraid to turn around. It was stupid,
stupid
, to think Matt would drive off, put two and two together and come up with vicious bastards about to rape and kill four women. And it was stupid to put her friends in more danger trying to get a message to him. Now Kane was going to snap Lou’s neck under his boot.

But the sound she heard wasn’t bones breaking. Beside her, Travis let out a soft chuckle. ‘Wiseman’s a fucking loser.’

Jodie looked at him, turned all the way around when Kane whooped, realised then that she’d gotten away with it. Travis and Kane knew nothing about her kids, thought she had a husband, thought she had something going with Matt. She’d said nothing to dispel that.

Kane lifted his foot from Lou’s neck. She scrabbled out from underneath. He grinned at his brother. ‘Wiseman was born a loser.’

Travis laughed again, quietly, like it was some kind of personal victory. He grabbed Jodie’s arm and dragged her towards the kitchen.

Kane’s wired, hyped-up energy had returned. ‘Fucking Wiseman misses out again. Yeah, we got four sluts this time. He doesn’t get any. Loser.’ At his feet, Hannah, Lou and Corrine were scuttling back along the floor on their butts. There was nowhere to go in the small kitchen but up against the cupboards. ‘Hey, bro, we should leave him something this time.’

‘Tie her up with the others,’ Travis growled and pushed Jodie at him.

Kane caught her hand, held it up and grinned. ‘Let’s give him the finger. One of theirs.’

Jodie wrenched her hand away, curled her fingers into a tight ball, was shoved hard to the floor by Travis. Louise hauled her back by the shoulders, embraced her tight from behind.

‘Tie her up,’ Travis ordered.

Kane ignored him, danced about in front of Jodie. ‘Four. Fucking
four
we got.’

Travis grabbed him by the shirt front and slammed him up against the island bench. Kane didn’t react, just grinned, flicked his eyes back and forth from the floor to Travis.

His brother shoved him again then just dropped his arms to his sides. ‘Yeah, we got us four sluts. So tie them together.’ He walked to the front window, looked out through a gap in the curtains.

As Kane tied her to Hannah, Jodie took in the shock on her friend’s face. Beside her, Lou’s knees were pulled defensively to her chest and Corrine, last in the row of hostages, was crying softly. Jodie turned to Kane, watched his pale eyes, the tattoo on his forearm and hoped Matt came back with a damn army.

‘Which one you wanna do first?’ Kane called across the room.

Travis pulled the curtains closed. ‘We eat first.’

‘Jesus, Trav, come on. Wiseman’s not coming back. We got plenty of time now.’

Travis stalked back across the room. ‘You want to go into town for supplies? You think you’re going to just stroll past those coppers and get a couple of bags of fucking groceries before we hit the dirt?’

Jodie couldn’t see Kane’s face now, only the stiffening in his neck as he held his ground and said nothing.

Travis kicked at something under the island bench, sending it clattering across the floor, and stared at his brother. ‘You think it’s going to work like that, Kane? Did you think of anything before you picked up that fucking piece of timber?’

A beat of silence. ‘Nah, bro.’

‘Then shut up and listen.’ Travis laid the gun on the bench, kept his hand around it, looked at Jodie and her friends, at his brother, at the front door. ‘We eat while we got food and give me some fucking time to figure it out.’ He looked over his shoulder to the glass wall. ‘Then we do what we came for, shut the bitches up and hit the road. In that order. You got it?’

‘Yeah. I got it.’

‘Then get it started.’

Kane hauled the women to their feet. ‘Do the food,’ he yelled.

So they did. Jodie and Corrine, the only ones with an untied hand, piled food onto plates then Travis held the gun to Hannah’s head, made them all walk to the big dining table and serve it up.

They were pushed to the floor against the island bench while Travis and Kane shovelled food into their mouths. It was cold now, overcooked and greasy, but it didn’t seem to matter. There was no talking, just gulping, huge mouthfuls of egg and bacon and bread and apple pie – Kane’s focus moving back and forth from his plate to his prey, Travis’s eyes on a continuous circuit around the barn: lounge room, front door, back windows, kitchen.

Watching them at the table, Jodie saw the differences between them went deeper than colouring. Travis seemed to have some level of cognitive ability that had bypassed Kane. Travis was getting a kick out of terrifying them, Jodie had no doubt about that, but not like his brother. Kane was an animal straining at a leash. Travis was more controlled. He was there for a reason, he was holding some kind of plan together and he had Kane on a short chain.

The chain got a whole lot longer when Travis went outside. He’d finished eating, pushed his plate away, scraped his chair back from the table and announced, ‘I’m going out to see for myself.’ He tucked the gun in the back of his jeans and left them alone with Kane.

Kane was laughing before the glass had slid shut. A high, feral, girlish sound. Like he was in the middle of a joke. It made Jodie’s blood go cold.

He looked at her. ‘You’re a fuckin’ prickteaser.’

He stood up. She shrank back, prayed he wasn’t going to ‘do’ her now. He took his time walking to her, laughing to himself. ‘Get up.’

They could have refused – he didn’t have the gun. But Jodie had seen how Travis handled him, didn’t dare cross him and she guessed the other girls felt the same. They struggled to get off the floor with their hands tied. Kane grinned and waited until they were upright. ‘You’re a fuckin’ prickteaser,’ he said again and slammed a fist into her stomach.

She doubled over, gasping in pain and shock, the blood in her head roaring as she tried to fill her lungs with air. Louise yelled obscenities, Corrine’s voice pitched high in a wail. Beside her, Hannah didn’t utter a sound but Jodie could feel her trembling violently. Kane laughed and pointed like they were putting on a goddamn show.

As she straightened up, she steeled herself for another beating, hoping she might be able to defend herself with her one free hand. But Kane had finished with her. His awful eyes were on Corrine. Then his hands. He was pawing her face, her neck, her breasts, laughing, telling her she was going to scream, it was going to be great.

He dragged her across the room, pushed her up against the dining table. She was crying and begging him to stop. Jodie watched in horror from where she stood at the island bench – and thought about knocking Kane to the floor with a shoulder tackle. She could do it, she knew how. But she was tied to Hannah and Hannah was tied to Louise and there was no chance of winning any kind of fight with two terrified, untrained women attached to her.

*

Matt spun the tyres through a tight U-turn, pushed the accelerator to the floor and fishtailed down the road as he picked up speed. He was around the intersection before thought kicked in.

It was crazy.
He
was crazy. There was no logical reason for Kane Anderson to be up at the barn. If he
had
killed John Kruger, why would he go there? Any idiot would leave the area. Revenge for Jodie rejecting him at the pub? Now you’re clutching at straws, Matt. Jodie wouldn’t be the first to fob him off.

No, it wasn’t Anderson. No way.

But Jodie’s pleading face flashed in his head again and he kept driving. It was someone. Or something.

His phone rang.

‘Hey, Matty. I found that number. You still want it?’

He eased his foot off the accelerator as he thought of Dan Carraro eating spring rolls and telling war stories with his junior detective. What would he tell him? ‘Hey, Dan, this hot woman I met yesterday had a bandaged hand and just told me a bunch of lies. How about you drive the thirty k’s out there and check it out for me ’cause I don’t think I can handle it on my own.’ Matt rubbed his head. ‘No. If you see him again, just tell him I called. Thanks, Reg.’ He hung up and tossed the phone on the passenger seat.