I Will Not Run (8 page)

Chapter 10

Bruno

This place of Dom’s, it’s a joke. The girls on his reception desk have tickets on themselves. They sit there, all decked out in their expensive suits, acting haughty like they’re above the patients. This place is designed to put you in your place, not make you better. It won’t work on me though. No damn woman is above me, despite what my old man tried to drill into my thick skull. But then, he got off on belittling people, especially me. Arsehole. He reckoned that no woman in her right mind would look my way, not unless I paid her. I prove him wrong all the time.

That young redhead, the one popping the buttons, I could get her interested without too much work. I like tight suits on young women because they’re a tease. I can’t wait to see if she’s so prim after a night under me.

“Hey beautiful,” I said, smiling her way.

She beamed back. Flattery, it goes a long way with women, especially her type. All I have to do is stroke her ego, flash the cash, and she’ll respond.

I bounded up to the desk and leant over so that I could whisper in her ear, “Why’s a gorgeous piece like you working in a dump like this? They’re all nutcases.” I scanned the room, and pointed out the skittish hag in the corner scratching her hands. “See what I mean?”

The redhead’s eyes popped then she quickly looked down and tried to hide her smirk.

It was working. Of course it was because flattery always works. “I’d hire you. I would, you know. Look at you. Smart and so pretty. Someone else should be doing this crap job. You’re wasted here. You deserve to be the face of a business, not hidden behind a desk working your pretty butt off.”

She rolled her eyes but I could tell she was flattered.

“So, what sort of business do you own then?” she asked, thrusting her chest out.

“Importing.”

She nodded and smiled again. “Are you looking for staff right now?”

She was eager. “Always looking, sweetheart. But I only hire people that are just right, girls that look like models.” Then I winked.

She rolled her eyes one more time.

“I’m not ashamed of it. There’s always a vacancy for a hot girl that turns heads.”

She glanced back at the waiting room, making sure no one else could hear before leaning closer. “These girls you hire, what do they have to do for their money?”

“Nothing much.”

“Come on.”

“Nope. Their job is to go out to lunch with me and some of my clients, and that’s about it.”

She shrugged. “Well, if you’re seriously hiring, I might be interested.”

I threw down my personal business card. “Call me.”

It’s a shame my old man is dead. I’d give anything to show him what I can catch these days, love to throw it in his face. There’s nothing that gives me more satisfaction than proving my old man wrong. I hope he’s watching me right now, looking up at me while he roasts over and over in hell. I wish I could pay the furnace keeper to turn the temperature up.

The old bat on reception, the one sitting next to my redhead piped up, “Bruno Camalari, you can go through now.”

I winked at my girl. “Later, baby,” and walked on.

The door to his office was open so I just moseyed on in. He was sitting in his big-man chair, staring at me like I was a patch of mange he found on his old dog. The bastard didn’t even stand and offer me his hand,
pumped-up college kid just out of school shorts.
I had a good mind to smack a bit of real life into him.

“Don’t think much of your bedside manner, Doc.”

Dom looked back at me, pissed off. “What are you doing here, Bruno? What do you want?”

“Well, a bit of respect for starters. I’m paying
you
remember, not the other way around.”

He sighed and stared out the window, like this was hard for him, like he had to rein himself in before he could even look my way. I’ve got to admit it, it was a satisfying thought.

I moved over to his couch and lay down, my work boots muddying up his shiny white leather. “So, tell me, Doc, how’s it going with my wife?”

He didn’t answer, just gave me another dirty-scum look.

“Speak up, I can’t hear you.”

Nothing but silence.

“What is it with you? My money’s not good like everyone else’s?”

Still nothing.

“I don’t like the way you’re looking at me, Doc, I’ll tell you that much for free. Do they teach you to sneer in med school, to look down your fancy nose? You better quit it right now ‘cause you’re making me angry. You’re no better than me, you trumped-up piece of shit.”

“You got that wrong.”

“Bugger-off!” I jumped up and stomped my fist into his desk. Everything bounced up and tipped over. “You know what, Doc? I don’t think you’re very good at your job. You haven’t cured my wife yet.”

He stood up then, too, pushing his chair away, sending it rolling into the wall. He wanted to thump me one, itching to do it, I could tell. He was doing everything he could to hold himself back, but I could see it in his face, he was begging for a fight. He moved in close, invading my space, stopping an inch from my face. I guess it was one of his head-game moves, meant to make me uncomfortable or egg me on.

He was whispering, too, blowing his minty rich-kid breath right in my face.

Then he started using his fancy words.

“Your fake muscles don’t scare me, Bruno, not one bit. They come in handy though, don’t they, handy to hide behind. I know you, I see through your facade. Behind your bull and all that manufactured muscle hides a scared little boy desperate for approval.”

I knew his words were meant to rile me, to get under my skin, but that’s alright, I didn’t mind being the one to start this. He wasn’t the only one inching to use his fists.

I thumped him then,
bam
, out of the blue. No one speaks to me like that and gets away with it. Smacked him on the cheek, had him reeling too. I don’t know, I got the feeling that he shoved his face into mine, hoping I’d pop the first shot.

I held back a bit though, didn’t let myself lay into him like I wanted to, because that wouldn’t have helped my cause. I need the Doc to keep coming around. I need him to tempt my wife, to test my girl. He’s the best bait I’ll ever find. And if she strays, then he’s really getting a hiding, one he won’t forget.

I gotta admit it though, he took the thumping well. Surprised me. I thought someone like him would crumple and whimper. He didn’t grab the phone, or press his panic button under the desk. Instead, he rose up like a phoenix and almost smiled, like he was thinking:
Good,
now it’s my turn
.

He lunged for me, slamming me back.
Wham
, right on the jaw, knuckles against bone. The world spun for a bit, throwing me off balance, dropping me to the floor.

I smiled despite the ringing in my ears. I’ve always had a twisted sense of humour. Fair’s fair. One swipe each, that’s enough. Don’t need to jump up and plant another blow. If I beat him up too bad, I might put him off coming around. So instead I grinned and said, “Good for you, Doc.”

“Get out,” he roared, hate written all over his face.

I got up, brushed myself down, then sauntered, casual as anything, to the door. Before letting myself out, I turned. “Don’t be a stranger now. See you at my place real soon.” I walked through that door and before I disappeared, I yelled over my shoulder, “One more thing. Keep your bloody hands off my wife.”

Truth is, I was kinda hoping he’d do the opposite. I needed her tempted and I wanted a valid excuse to beat the crap out of him later.

“Same, dick head,” Dom yelled back, slamming the door behind me, rocking it almost off its hinges.

Looks like I’m not the only man in Galston with a temper.

Chapter 11

Dominic

I stood in the shadows, keeping myself well out of sight. Victoria Street was busy today, busier than usual. Don’t know what was up. Maybe the mid-winter foodie fair? I recognised half a dozen people rushing along, people I’d usually wave at and call out how-you-going to. Instead, I stepped backward, moving further into the shadow. It’s hard to be invisible in a town like ours. I know almost everyone in Galston because I grew up here. If gossiping was an Olympic sport then the Galston crowd could gossip for Australia.

I followed the fence line along the main street and into the side road, wanting to distance myself from the glary front entrance of the station. That red
police sign made a racket, waved its authoritarian arm around in the breeze, groaning and grabbing as much attention as it could. Normally, I like the sign because it’s cool in a retro small town Australia way, but not today. Its rusty whine grated, had me forming a fist.

Then I spotted her. Wow, that’s all it took, one sighting of Winter and I’m bowled over, hit with a tidal wave of endorphins. The rush made me smile and shake my head. I had it bad for her. That girl might just break my heart all over again.

She was driving one of Bruno’s look-at-me cars. Geez, she shouldn’t have chosen the red soft top to drive today. He’s got a mini cooper at home, I’ve seen it, and a big family four-wheel drive too, quite apart from the muscle cars. She should have chosen something less conspicuous. You can’t drive a flashy red sports car in small-town Australia and not get noticed. Throw her mesmerising, spell-binding beauty into the mix and, well, blending in is out of the question.

She slowed up and chose a park, in Rider Avenue of all places. There’s always a space or two there because no one wants to park right outside the cop shop. The cops walk up and down all day so if anyone’s got a bald tyre or an expired rego sticker, they’ll spot it quick smart. Who needs that sort of attention? So Rider Avenue is one of the easiest places to find a park in but still, she should have looked harder for somewhere else. It’s ironic, seeing a Camalari car parked right outside the police station.

She opened her car door, stepped onto the pavement, and knocked the wind out of me all over again. It took every bit of strength I had to stay put. I wanted to run up and pull her into my arms, and let the world see me doing it too. Damn, I needed to ease off. But what red-blooded male wouldn’t want her?

Mesmerised, I stood there like a gawking kid watching her struggle out of that low-slung car, long legs, and short skirt. The wind tugged at her hair, slapping the long strands over her bare neck then back against her ruby lips. I felt like I was back ten years, back to being a lust-ridden kid in school shorts. She peeled the hair from her lips and impatiently tossed the strands over her shoulder. Then she patted herself down, easing her dress over her flawless body.

I wanted to run up, bend her back and nuzzle into her neck. I’d like to bite her skin too and leave evidence of where I’d been, mark her, claim her as mine for the whole world to see.

When she’s around, time stops for me. I have trouble focusing on anything other than her. Actually, that happens even when she’s not around too. I might be with a patient or doing some research and my mind is always looking for a way to wander off back to her.

Winter saw me then, saw me sizing her up and smiled with wide-open lips and shiny eyes. Again, I thought about stealing her away, running, and not stopping till I had her strapped into a plane with the doors bolted. We could go to Siberia for all it mattered to me. Anywhere but here would do just fine.

Nope. I have to fight my way through this and come out winning at the other end. Winter must want me as much as I want her, or this time I really will walk for good.

“Hey, you.” I patted her on the back, a gesture I hoped said ‘affectionate friend.’ It’s hard to keep her at arm’s length, way harder than it looks.

“Hey, handsome,” she answered back, her eyes clear and sweet like a mountain river. Then she turned towards the fortress-style door of the cop shop and her smile faded.

Staring at that cold, hard lump of sandstone, she asked, “Is Bruno really in there?”

“Yep.”

Her eyes slid from me to the street, then back to the prison-like front door. “I’m sure this is a bad idea. I shouldn’t be here. Someone’s going to see me going in there and they’ll tell Bruno.”

I placed my hand on the top of her arm, protective and calming. “That’s why I’m taking you in through the back door. If anyone sees your car, then you are simply in town shopping. And if anyone sees us together, then we play it down and call it a random meeting. We bumped into each other and went for coffee. No big deal. I’m your shooting tutor remember. Under normal circumstances, if we passed in the street, you wouldn’t ignore me. In fact, it might be a good idea to be deliberately seen. Tell Bruno you ran into me. You’ll pre-empt any suspicion that way.”

She nodded, smoothing down her already-sleek dress. “I guess,” she said, looking far from convinced.

I guided her down the side street and almost past the station but at the last moment, snatched her hand and pulled her through a narrow, unmarked doorway. I slammed the door shut behind us.

We huddled together, filling the width of the narrow entrance, waiting while our eyes adjusted to the dim light. She looked so young and vulnerable nestled into my chest. Bruno had no right being with her. She was the most precious of all creatures and he was a thug, a bully, a lowlife, nothing but a taint on mankind.

I tried not to lean into her but I couldn’t help myself. Raw need took over.
I must keep my distance.
I tried to tell my lips and chest to back off but not much of my body was listening anymore. Telling my arms and legs to pull away was like telling the plants to turn from the sun.

We stood in that darkened hallway pressed together. It took all the will I had to keep my lips from seeking hers. I shuddered fighting the urge. No. Not here, not yet. I refuse to kiss her here, of all places. She needs time. I’ve waited for eleven years. I can wait a little longer.

“This way,” I whispered, leading her down the long winding corridor to its end. We came out into a foyer with rooms and corridors running off at every angle.

“We’re over there.” I pointed.

A female cop in uniform hurried along the hallway, squeezed past us, and smiled my way. I knew the face but not her name.

Then Sergeant Matt Stevens burst out of a room and almost mowed us down. “In here,” he whispered, rushing us into the small space attached to the interrogation room.

Matt left us in there alone, thank goodness. It’s a tiny space. I’ve been in this sort of setup a hundred times before because it’s the usual arrangement of rooms used for interrogation: a small desk with a few chairs and a one-way mirror squeezed into a space not much bigger than a linen cupboard. I dragged Winter through the doorway then closed the door behind us.

She stood, rigid as stone, transfixed by the one-way mirror, or more precisely by what was going on beyond it.

“Relax. He can’t see us. That glass is strictly a one-way thing. You can see him but there is no way he can see you.”

She crept closer still. “You sure? If he knows I’m here, I’m dead.”

Hearing her talk like that, I wanted to go in there and smack him one. “Sit,” I said, noticing how edgy she was. Her eyes skirted nervously around the room. She kept looking back at the door, at the way out and it was clear she wanted to bolt.

“You’re safe in here, I promise.”

She was distrustful by default now, which was a shame because trust and optimism can take years to get back.

“I promise you, Winter, there’s no way he can see us. And he can’t smash that glass either. It’s shatter-proof. Let’s just sit down quietly and listen.” I adjusted my speaker and placed a tiny microphone near my lips, making sure it was switched off.

Winter nodded and slid into the seat next to mine. She focused on the window, and on her husband in the adjoining room.

Bruno sat slumped in a seat, his massive frame spilling over the tiny foldaway camping chair.

In contrast, she was sitting bolt upright, barely allowing herself to touch anything.

That room he was in, the interrogation room, it was the usual setup: two detectives, one behind a desk and the other seated facing Bruno. The detective nearest Bruno leaned in, deliberately invading Bruno’s space, trying to make his suspect as uncomfortable as he could.

This was a tactic the cops used often. They had Bruno sit in a small squashy chair, a seat barely big enough for a twelve-year-old child. Of course it was far too small for a man his size. The room was cramped deliberately, designed that way to maximise discomfort. There were no windows. There was one small door, which was barred by the officer sitting at the desk. This claustrophobic room was staged to put Bruno under the greatest possible duress.

“Someone’s been talking, Bruno,” the officer said. “We know what you’ve been up to. We know what you did to that girl.”

A sneer rolled around Bruno’s lips. “Yeah, well, I think you don’t know shit.”

The officer raised his eyebrows. “She was under eighteen, Bruno. That’s a criminal offence.”

Bruno stretched his body out, straightening his legs, thrusting them as far out as he could, stealing some of the interrogator’s space. Bruno’s thighs spilled from the chair like giant sausages. He closed his eyes, no doubt to avoid the penetrating stare of the interrogation officer. He even placed his hands behind his head, lacing his fingers together. To anyone else, it might have looked like he was about to nod off.

The interrogating officer was riled, I could see that in the pull of his mouth, but he was doing his best to hide his annoyance. “We’ve got a semen sample. You got sloppy this time, Bruno. And here’s the best bit, we can prove it came from you.”

Bruno waved his arm around expansively. “Go to it then, man, what are you waiting for? And while you’re proving things that aren’t true, get me a coffee. I know my rights. I’m dying of thirst here.”

The detective ignored the request. “We’re going to take a DNA sample from you. We’re allowed to do that by law. And when your DNA matches, we’re going to send you so far up shit creek.”

Bruno scoffed. “Whatever. You ain’t got jack-squat, and we both know it.” He closed his eyes.

I leaned in and whispered into the tiny microphone near my mouth. It fed directly into the interrogating officer’s ear. “He’s lying. This over-confidence is a cover. Keep on about the young girl. He’s much more worried than he looks.”

The detective pulled his chair closer, ramming his knees hard into Bruno’s thighs. Then he moved his face even closer, bringing his mouth close to Bruno’s cheek.

“We’ve got a photograph, too. You like to take photos of young girls, don’t you, Bruno?”

Winter jumped up and turned towards me, her face rosy, and her eyes riled and angry. She was about to talk so I slid the mic button off.

“What photograph? What the hell’s he on about?”

I shrugged, wondering why she was so bothered. “There’s no photograph. It’s another tactic, that’s all.”

Why was she so rattled? She knew what he got up to, so why did the presence of a photo throw her so much? She turned her head away, hiding the answer from me.

“There’s no photo. The police don’t really have one. It’s a guess on their part. They know Bruno likes to photo his underage girls.”

She nodded, and I watched the rigidness of her back soften and bend.

“It’s true about the semen, though. We’re hoping it’s his but only time will tell.”

“It probably will be his,” she said casually. For some reason the idea of Bruno’s semen being found inside a date rape case involving a young girl bothered her less that the idea of a photo.

“What’s this all about anyway?” she demanded. “What girl are they talking about?”

It was high time she saw her husband for what he really was. I’d bought her here for several reasons, and one of them was to open her eyes, to show her what a screwed-up fuck she was married to.

“This is a date rape case. The girl initially claimed that Bruno raped her but she’s since changed her story. The girl’s already run off back to Adelaide. I reckon she’s scared.”

Winter raised her hands in a gesture of hopelessness.

“So what’s going to happen now? He’s going to get away with it again isn’t he? He gets away with everything. Bruno does what he wants and no one is big enough or brave enough or clever enough to stop him.”

She pointed her finger at the one-way glass. “The police are as good as useless.”

She seemed to be accusing me of something too.

Had I done the right thing, bringing her here today? This was not going to plan. I wanted her to see, with her own eyes, the cops moving in. She was meant to feel relieved. Bruno is the police’s problem, it is not up to her to bring him to justice. She can back off, and leave vengeance and justice to the authorities. It’s not her job.

But instead of feeling appeased and off the hook, she seemed more frustrated with the police than ever.

“The cops are going to get Bruno, I know it. I brought you here today to prove that the authorities are on to him. They want him locked up, just as much as you do. They know he’s guilty of countless crimes but they need a little more time to prove it, that’s all. And perhaps a bit more evidence too. Next time he puts a foot wrong, they’ll swoop.”

She was strung tighter than a trip wire. “So what now, Dom? What’s going to happen today? Or next week, even? I’m guessing the answer is nothing?”

So much for easing her burden. It looked like I’d added to it. “My hunch is, they’ll lock him up for the night and he’ll walk free in the morning. The cops need more evidence. But, don’t you see, they’re searching now. And when they nab him this time, they’ll do it properly, so that the charge sticks. They’re after a lengthy prison sentence this time.”

She sighed, letting her shoulders slump. Perhaps I’d said something right at last.

“Okay.” She gave me a half-smile of forced gratitude.

I moved towards her and together we faced the glass. “The creep,” I said, pointing, hearing the hatred in my own voice, “Bruno, will get caught, for sure. Look how smug he is. He thinks he’s outsmarted the police. He hasn’t even asked for his lawyer because he doesn’t think he needs one. Bruno’s gotten way too cocky for his own good.”