February (9 page)
Authors: Gabrielle Lord
Quietly I climbed over the fence, slipped up the driveway and took cover behind some big recycling bins. There was a four-wheel drive parked under a carport. The inside of the house was completely dark. There weren’t any lights on. Hopefully that meant no-one was up.
I looked around for any other signs that this was the place I was after, but only found some little kids’ bikes leaning up against the carport wall. I crept up and peered into the car. A bruised apple, sunscreen, some baby wipes and a booster seat.
I had to be in the wrong place …
It was now after midnight. I had trusted my instincts and decided to move on. Back out on the street I restarted my search for the sandstone curbing.
Sure enough, a hundred metres or so up the road, I found another sandstone driveway and a big, open front gate. I crept up and squatted beside a plumbing van that was parked next door, so I could try and get a better look.
There were soft voices and signs of movement. I strained to pinpoint where it was coming from.
A car door closing.
It was the dark blue Mercedes from the kidnapping!
Someone was fumbling with keys.
A woman’s heels were clicking on the pavers, followed by dull, heavier footsteps.
Two people—one of them a woman wearing a spotty scarf around her head, and a large man’s
figure in shadow—were making their way from the car to the front door.
From my vantage point I watched as they went inside, lights switching on to indicate where in the house they’d moved to.
The house was heavily secured with metal bars over the lower windows and a thick security door at the front. I was feeling pretty sure I’d found the right place, but how was I ever going to get inside?
Beside the house was a very tall pine tree that had recently been lopped; its lower limbs had been cut back from the driveway near the entrance and almost formed a natural ‘ladder’ that was just asking me to climb it.
The branches scratched my face and hands on the climb up and the mosquitoes were hammering me, too, but I could now see clearly into the house through an open window near the verandah on the second floor.
And there inside were the red and black tiles that I’d stood on while I was interrogated by that deranged woman!
The door inside the main room in my view
opened and in came two people. The woman had removed her scarf and her crimson-red hair was piled up high in an elaborate hairstyle. Crimson-red! How had I known this without ever seeing her before? I’d barely seen anything but the floor during the abduction and interrogation, and yet for some reason I’d remembered her as a woman with red hair … the exact woman behind the desk that I was staring at through the pine needles!
She leaned into a drawer, and then pulled out a long, thin brownish cigarette—a cigarillo. Smoke filled the room and began floating up and out of the window towards me. I held my breath.
She was talking to the man who had accompanied her from the car, who was now standing on the other side of the desk. His suit jacket strained against his bulging body. He looked like a big exercise ball wearing clothes. The red-head’s unforgettable voice was loud and distinct, strong and aggressive. She was gesturing with her hands and stabbing the air with the cigarillo as if she were making important points. He too, seemed to have a lot to say and they were both very interested in some papers on the desk in front of her.
From the way she dominated the room and conversation, I knew this was the woman who had questioned me the night I was abducted from
Memorial Park. I remembered the way Sligo had reacted when I’d described her to him, the way he’d spat and then ground his heel on the wet spot. He knew very well who she was.
I pulled out my phone, wishing the camera function had better zoom. Luckily the room was fairly well lit, so I didn’t need my flash. I quickly took the best picture I could of the woman. It wasn’t great, but I’d definitely captured her basic shape and features. She was quite a unique character so I was hoping that someone, somewhere, might recognise her.
Inside, the woman crushed out the cigarillo and opened a tall glass jar on her desk filled with tiny silver balls. She popped a few in her mouth and I recognised them as being the cachous that Gabbi loved using to decorate cupcakes. She then opened a laptop in front of her. The computer screen radiated bluish light onto her face. I wondered again whether she was the woman who’d first called me claiming to have information on my dad … and then set me up. Was she
Jennifer Smith?
From behind the laptop she suddenly called the big guy over with a dramatic flap of her arms. He rushed to her side and leaned in to see whatever it was on the screen that was so intriguing. They stared at each other for a moment, quite intently,
and before I knew it the red-head had turned and was peering out the window right at me!
I instantly dropped heavily to the ground and my movement must have activated an automatic spotlight—the garden was lit up like a football stadium at night. I ran down the driveway and into the darkness. I didn’t pause to listen to what was going on behind me; all my energy was focused on getting the hell out of there.
I ran back down the street towards the intersection and then back the way I’d come.
When I’d run far enough and figured it was safe, I stopped to see if anyone was on my trail.
Nothing.
I strained to listen for a car, voices, footsteps …
Nothing.
No-one was chasing me. I was running without a pursuer. Had they seen me? I was sure the woman had looked right at me! Did they have security cameras outside? Was I completely paranoid? Had I fled for no reason?
Whatever the case, I’d found the house, taken a picture of the woman, and made it out of there in one piece.
I’d spent a whole day, yesterday, lurking in the drain. Boges wasn’t going to manage meeting up with me for another day or two, so I’d tried to keep busy walking up and down the tunnels, rifling through my stuff, sleeping, staring at the ceiling … talking to myself.
I had to get out again.
Now I was just another anonymous kid wandering the streets near Central Station. Nothing unusual about that. Or so I kept telling myself.
I tried to act calm and cool, and remain unnoticed, but I felt like a hundred pairs of eyes were on me.
I stopped by a basketball court where a bunch of kids were having a shootout. I’d always liked playing basketball—or any sport, really—and wished I had it in me to go over and play with them.
All of a sudden I felt the hairs at the back of my neck prickling up. Someone
was
watching me. I was sure of it. I swung round, but there was no-one there. I turned my attention back to the basketball court and that’s when I got the shock of my life!
There was a kid on the other side of the netted-off court staring at me through the mesh! But that wasn’t what had frozen me.
I stared back in disbelief!
Was I seeing things?
He looked as shocked as I did, which didn’t help.
My brain tried to make sense of it. Was I looking at some sort of reflection? I rubbed my eyes like a spun-out cartoon character, but when I looked again, he was still there.
He was the spitting image of me—or, at least, what used to be me. My face, my body, my eyes, my nose, my jaw, my eyebrows.
My
face!
My face before I had to try and make myself look unrecognisable.
I stared again. He still looked just like me, and he was still staring right back at me.
I was spellbound.
I finally snapped myself out of it and shouted to him.
‘Hey!’ I yelled, as I started to run around the sides of the court, trying to get to him. The moment I started running, so did he. But he was running
away
from me.
He took off, legs and arms pumping, like he was running for his life. It was like some bizarre out-of-body experience, like seeing
me
running for
my
life a month ago.
‘Hey! Wait!’ I called after him.
But he wouldn’t look back. He just kept running. I kept on after him, watching him try to duck and weave and lose me in the crowds, through narrow alleys and laneways. They were all the tricks I’d come to know so well.
I was able to keep him in sight, almost all the way down to the harbour, but that’s where I lost him.
It was hopeless. I just couldn’t keep up. My body was completely worn out. And he was fast—as fast as I used to be.
I stopped, doubled over, trying to catch my breath, and trying desperately to make sense of what I’d just seen.
