Blood Sport (41 page)

It was Gretel, wanting frantically to know if it was true that the Sarge’s fiancee had arrived in town. Regretfully, I confirmed those facts and broke her heart in the process. She’d always been keen on the Sarge and had probably convinced herself that Melissa didn’t really exist. Her fragile bubble of bliss had just been cruelly popped. I consoled her for ten long minutes before she felt able to get on with her day. When I hung up, I immediately ruled her tiny flat out as a possible place to stay tonight. I wasn’t in the mood to listen to hours of her weeping and moaning over ‘losing’ the Sarge, and if that made me a bad friend, then I was a bad friend.

Thankfully, things were very quiet for the next few hours until by the late afternoon, I was able to cross off every Lucy except for five possibles. But the lack of sleep the night before was catching up with me and I was yawning my head off uncontrollably by the time I finished.

The phone rang. “Mount Big Town police station,” I said and unfortunately was at that exact moment overcome by a huge yawn. “Sorry about that.”

“Sounds as though someone didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Oh, hi Sarge,” I said and yawned again.

“You sound exhausted. Go home, Tessie.”

“I can’t. It’s not ready.”
Shit!
Why did I say that for? I didn’t want him to know that little fact.

“You better haul your bag back up to my place then,” he ordered. I was about to protest when he continued dryly. “We’re not going to be there, so you don’t have to worry about avoiding us.”

“What?”

“Melissa wants to stay here in Big Town overnight. We’re going to stay at the Chancellor.” Of course they were. It was a five-star luxury resort just out of Big Town, overlooking the beach.

“But you didn’t take any stuff with you.”

“I know, but that’s typical of Melissa. She’s very spontaneous. We’re about to go shopping and buy some spare toothbrushes and clothes.” Of course they were. I couldn’t have felt more unlike them if I’d tried at that moment. “You’ll have the whole house to yourself tonight. Promise me you’ll stay there so I know where you are. Otherwise I’ll worry.” He’d be frantic with worry right now if he knew where I was planning to go tonight.

“Okay.” I
would
stay there if they were going to be away. It sure beat sleeping in the lockup or on the station floor. Or with Young Kenny, for that matter.

“What have you been up to today?” he asked.

“Stuff.”

He sighed patiently. “What kind of stuff?”

“Work stuff. What else?”

“Been busy?”

“Yep.”

“Any trouble?”

“Nope.”

“You’re not very chatty today.” I wasn’t very chatty any day. “Don’t you want to know about our lunch at Cybele?”

“Just hang on a sec while I make myself a Cup-a-Soup while I listen.”

He was silent for a moment, before laughing ruefully. “Not very subtle of you, Tess, but I get the message. I’m being a pretentious prick, aren’t I? Telling you about the Chancellor and Cybele? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I genuinely thought you’d be interested. I know how much you like to cook and you’ve mentioned that you’d like to eat there one day.”

I was instantly ashamed at my bitter attitude. “I’m sorry, Sarge. I didn’t mean to snap. You’re right. I’m tired and I need to go home. Or to your place, at least.” I needed some sleep before my nocturnal adventures. “You can tell me all about your fine dining experience tomorrow. I hope you and Melissa enjoy your night together. Maybe you can sort out your wedding plans while you’re there?”

He made some vague non-committed noise and changed the subject. “What are you going to have for dinner?”

“I don’t know! I haven’t even thought about it. Probably another Cup-a-Soup.”

“There’s some homemade chicken and vegetable soup in my freezer. Heat that up instead, okay? It’s in a red container.”

I rolled my eyes, safely knowing he couldn’t see me. “You’re such a mother hen sometimes.”

He laughed, a pleasant, warm chuckle in my ear. “I guess that makes you my chick.”

I snorted. “No, it bloody well doesn’t! Anyway, your chick’s probably waiting for you and you better get off the phone before she gets angry. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay, Tessie. Thanks for covering for me while I’m playing hooky. I really appreciate it.”

“Anything for true love, Sarge. Bye now.”

Geez! Wasn’t I a little cupid today? Which reminded me of my own true love. I rang Jake, but was again diverted to his voicemail. He must be on duty. I left a very loving message, thanking him once more for working on my house and reminding him that I’d thank him personally on the weekend. I hoped to hear back from him soon, because I’d be going to bed early.

At the Sarge’s house, freshly showered and straight into my pyjamas, I duly heated up the soup and ate it, admitting to myself that it was very tasty. The plates washed and dried, I indulged in some naughty phone foreplay with Jake that made me long for the weekend. Then I slumped in front of the TV for a mind-numbing hour. During that time I fielded two phone calls from the Sarge checking up on me. I was a bit short with him on the second call, snapping at him to stop worrying about me so much and to instead spend more time enjoying his evening with Melissa.

By seven-thirty the bed was beckoning me with an irresistible siren call. I slept deeply and didn’t dream about anything I could remember, before my phone rang and woke me up. I fumbled uselessly on the bedside table in the dark for twenty seconds, only to have the call divert to voicemail the very second I laid my hands on the phone. Damn!

Chapter 24

I turned on the bedside lamp and blinking in the bright light, listened to the message. Both the Sarge and I diverted the station phone to our mobiles when we were on night or weekend roster. It was probably an emergency. Why else would someone ring me at – I checked the clock – one-thirty in the morning? I didn’t mind too much though, because it was only thirty minutes earlier than I’d originally set my alarm.

I stretched enjoyably as I retrieved the message. It started with heavy breathing.
Oh God
, I groaned to myself. Not a saucy siren seeker at this time of the morning?

“They’re doing something terrible.” The voice was hoarse, whispery and panicked, but I recognised it as belonging to Mickey, the computer nerd from the bikie retreat. He half-sobbed, half-sighed. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be involved in this. I never realised . . .” A second while he fought for self-control, his breathing uneven and ragged. “Now. Please come
now
. 140 Beach Road. The girl’s going to . . .” More sob-breathing. “I don’t want to be here anymore. I
hate
them! But I’m so scared of them. I only want to live quietly. I don’t want anyone to be hurt or –”

The message cut off, out of time. I could have thrown my phone at the wall in frustration if I hadn’t almost broken it doing that once already. But I’d heard enough to get my hackles rising. Something was going to happen to Kylie soon. If that wasn’t motivation enough to get me out of the warm, comfy bed, then I didn’t know what would. I reminded myself that she was only fourteen and was powerless and probably frightened in a house full of men who were doing unspeakable things to her. I also acknowledged with grim satisfaction that what I’d been planning to do all along had now been legitimised by Mickey’s urgent emergency call.

I hunted around for some dark clothes to change into. All the constant rain, combined with little time to do any washing and living out of a suitcase, meant that I was fast running out of clothes to wear. The black outfit I had on the other night would have been ideal for tonight’s activities, but I hadn’t had a chance to wash and dry it. I peeked in the Sarge’s laundry room to see if my clothes were mouldering in a corner, but saw them hanging up neatly on a clothes horse. I touched them. They were dry. I smelt them. They had the lovely clean smell of freshly laundered clothes. Wow! The Sarge had done my laundry for me! What a wonderful surprise. Why Melissa hadn’t frogmarched him down the aisle the second he’d popped the question was beyond me. I’d never met a man who was more of a keeper – if you liked the nurturing, comforting, mother hen kind of guy, that was.

Dressed in black, I pulled on my waterproof jacket and the Sarge’s beanie again, finding some calm in wearing something that was his. I didn’t want to think about the scorching bollocking he was going to serve up when he found out what I’d done. But hey, I was only responding promptly to an emergency call, like a good cop.
And
he wasn’t here to help me deal with it, so he was the last person to complain.

But that reminded me that I should leave him some message about what I was doing, just in case. I quickly scribbled a bare note on a scrap of paper, detailing the time and where I was heading. I left it on the kitchen table, anchored under the salt shaker, where he’d see it immediately. I tried again not to think about how angry he was going to be with me. I’d worry about that once I was back home, safely tucked up in bed again.

I’d have to take the patrol car. It wasn’t an ideal vehicle for undercover work, made to be noticed with its fluorescent, glow-in-the-dark markings and unmissable POLICE signage, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. I left my sling lying on the dresser as I’d need both arms free for whatever happened. I checked my utility belt – gun, spray, baton, handcuffs – and reassuringly patted my knife on my thigh and my phone in my pocket. I didn’t bother with the radio. I’d only end up speaking to that bitch in Big Town again.

I opened the door, ready to head off, when I jogged back to my room to strap my spare knife around my back, under my jacket. Another ‘just in case’.

I missed the Sarge, I’ll be honest. We’d been a tight team for four months, living in each other’s pockets, usually working every incident together as well as spending a lot of free time together. I’d grown used to his willing availability, but I guess he was now part of a new team and had a more important partner in his life than me, his work colleague. I would have to play second fiddle from now on. I wouldn’t deny that it felt a little lonely driving off in the patrol car by myself. I missed his gently teasing banter and his unwavering support.

Little Town was respectably tucked up in bed, not a single light burning on this freezing, rainy early morning as I drove down the main road, heading south. Once on Beach Road, I decided to park in the same place that the Sarge had chosen the other night, hiding the patrol car from the road in the cover of that copse of trees. I slipped the small digital camera that we kept in the patrol car into my pocket. It had replaced the ancient film-based camera that police in Little Town had been using since the 1960s. I’d asked for a new camera for years to no avail, but the Sarge magically conjured one up not long after he arrived. If only I knew how.

The rain hit my skin like ice shards when I stepped out of the car. I cursed myself for forgetting to wear gloves as the Sarge had forced me to do last time. I set myself a brisk pace walking towards the retreat, careful not to snap my ankle in the unrelenting darkness.

This time, there were no Bycraft cars parked outside and no loud music thumping out. The house appeared to be in darkness and hopefully everyone was fast asleep. I poked my head around the opening in the front fence, scoping as best I could through the rain. Nobody was on the veranda. Well, they wouldn’t be, because only a raving lunatic like me would be out in this weather at this time of the night.

I slipped around the gate in the fence, only to have the entire front yard flood with brilliant lighting. I froze.
Shit!
That wasn’t supposed to happen. The Vypers must have amped up their security lighting since the Sarge and I were here. I ducked behind a straggly murraya bush as someone threw open one of the front windows. He peered out suspiciously into the soggy yard until the lights flicked off.

The window slammed and I dashed towards the side passage, only to set off the lights once more. The window flung open again and a rain of bullets peppered the front yard. Had I still been behind that murraya, I would have been hit. Several times. They’d obviously posted a trigger-happy sentry at the front of their house.

Oh dear
, I thought belatedly to myself. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, after all. I was in trouble already, stuck in no-man’s land. I couldn’t go back because I’d be shot at, so I had no choice but to keep moving forward. But every time I took a step, a light blazed gloriously through the night shadows. The awful thought that I’d been set up for an ambush by that phone call crept into my mind. After pondering that for a few terrible minutes, I dismissed the idea. Whoever had rung couldn’t know that the Sarge would decide to stay away overnight. It was all just coincidence and there was Kylie inside, needing my help.

I flattened myself against the wall of the house so that I wasn’t immediately visible when someone leaned out to look around. Hopefully they thought I was a fox or a feral cat. But that soon turned out to be another unlucky wish when a side window was flung open.

“I’m going to fucking shoot one of them pests,” boasted one of the men, half hanging out of the window, swinging his gun wildly. “I’ll put its head up on my wall back home, like a hunter. Like a real man. I’m Bear Grylls!” He drunkenly roared and grunted out into the darkness several times in what I could only assume he considered to be a hyper-masculine way, but which actually sounded as if he was coughing up a stubborn loogie. The loud, mocking laughter of his compadres seeped out from inside the room, only supporting my opinion. A couple of them joined him at the window.