Muzzled (18 page)

“Oh Ben, what’s going on?” I shivered and it wasn’t just from wearing wet clothes. “I can’t believe Scott would kill the old guy who was stealing my dogs. Why would he? Scott sounded scared when he spoke to me on the phone. Or do you think he was just playing me for a fool?”

Ben pulled me up against him. “If he
was
then I hope the mongrel gets what he deserves. If not… I’m glad you were there to save his life.”

“And what about Liz? Where the heck is
she
? Fair dinkum, I’m going to wring her stubborn little neck when I find her. Make her promise to contact me every week. Let me know where she is and what she’s up to.” I took a breath. Met Ben’s eyes. “Ben, I didn’t tell you this before because I thought you’d get upset, but Scott sent me a text yesterday. He asked me to meet him here and said Liz was in trouble.”

Ben’s fingers on my shoulders stilled. “You should have told me, babe.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. But I thought you’d get all,
me-Tarzan-you-Jane,
and insist on coming with me and Scott said to come alone.”

“And since when have
you
ever followed orders?”

I sniffed. Let that one ride. “Anyway, that’s why I have to talk to Scott now—find out what he knows about Liz.” And then a staggering thought hit me. Punched me like a fist in the chest. Made me gasp. “Oh, Jesus, what if Scott killed Liz before attempting to commit suicide? What if I just saved the monster that killed my sister?”

A convulsive full body shiver took hold of me leaving me barely able to stand. Loud background noises dimmed. The frenetic barking of dogs and shouts of trainers preparing to leave the course were replaced by a strange humming noise in my ears. I closed my eyes and clung onto Ben’s shirt like a life support in a raging sea.

“Easy does it, darling.” Ben’s arms, reassuring and rock solid pulled me against him and his voice crooned in my ear. “Don’t go trying to second guess this thing, babe, ’cos that’s the way madness lies.” He bent to entwine his fingers into a handful of my wet straggly hair, eased my face up to his and the gentle kiss that followed kick-started my brain, sent blood pounding through my body again. “Don’t worry. We’ll find a way to talk to Scott and question him about Liz. Even if I have to dress up as a bloody nurse and threaten to bash the guy on the head with a bedpan. Okay?”

I nodded. The vision of a 6’3” nurse built to play ruck in a weekend footy match, mincing into the hospital room carrying a lethal bedpan made me smile.

“Now,” Ben went on, evidently happy to see the smile. “Let’s get these dogs settled so we can find somewhere to shower and change into dry clothes before going to the hospital to visit a…sick friend.”

After ringing and organizing for Jake to take over my team for twenty-four hours and Ben’s brother, Nick, to look after the dogs he’d left at home, we went to find Kenny Gilbert.

“Sure can, mate,” said Kenny when Ben asked to leave his dogs in his kennels overnight. “Just follow me home and we’ll shift a few dogs around. Make some room.” He gazed at me with sympathetic eyes. “You okay, Kat? Must have been a shock to find young Scott Brady trying to top himself in the car park.”

I looked up. “You know Scott?”

“Sure. The guy could be a bit of a dickhead at times but he’s been helping out at the track lately and doin’ a great job. You know, cleaning out the kennel-house, taking money at the gate, grading the track on trial days, stuff like that. Can’t believe he’d want to do ’imself in though. Always seemed happy enough to me.”

This was too good an opportunity to miss. “Did he have a girlfriend?”

“Can’t say I know much about his love life,” Kenny said closing the van door after his two greyhounds had leapt inside and settled down on the mattress for their ride home. “But come to think of it, he did bring a good looking chick to the track a few times. Bit of a hippy by the looks of her. You know, long dress, scarves, a shitload of beads dangling around her neck. Wasn’t really welcome here though. She kept waving this silly placard under our noses—protesting about forcing greyhounds to run, or some such rubbish. Told the silly bird there was no way anyone could
make
a dog run if he didn’t want to. No jockey on top makin’ him go, is there? But of course, she didn’t listen. That sort never do.”

Yep. That was my sister, Liz. “So…when was the last time you saw her?”

Kenny shrugged. “Hmm…just over a week ago. I remember Bob Germaine having a right go at her. He’s the guy they sent up from Adelaide to stand in for our club secretary who’s in hospital having knee surgery. I was too far away to hear the argument but I can imagine Bob told her to stick her stupid placard where the sun don’t shine. Anyway, I haven’t seen the bird here since.”

Kenny climbed into the front seat of his van, slammed the door and shouted across to Ben who’d parked next to him, ready to follow his mate home. “Hey, bro, lost a couple hundred bucks when that snail
Go Rambo
beat your two bitches today. Couldn’t believe my eyes. Dog’s normally slower than salary rises. In fact, I reckon my three legged Labrador could beat
Go Rambo
with his back legs tied together.”

Ben nodded. “Sure didn’t look like the same dog I’d seen racing down the city and finishing so far behind the rest of the field it looked like he was taking part in a separate race.”

“Beats me what’s going on, mate. There’s been some bloody strange results at the country tracks lately,” Ken told us. “Yet, you’ll see, like the other slow dogs that won,
Go Rambo’s
swab will come back negative.”

Kenny turned the key in his ignition while I slid in beside Ben and we followed the white van around the outside of the track toward the gateway leading onto the main highway.

As we drove through the outside car park I looked across at the little red Beetle partially hidden by the jacaranda bushes. The police were still there, milling around the car, checking inside and out, taking photos, dusting for fingerprints. And as we passed under the arch that rose above the front gate, a big black car pulled in. The car looked very official and I could see two suited men sitting in the front seat. Unsmiling, poker faced.

Looked like the Big Brass had arrived.

19

It was ten o’clock the following morning. Slivers of hesitant sunlight poked around the edges of the clouds as I inhaled a deep breath of cool air, held it for ten, and then blew the air in Ben’s direction. Together, we stood, hovering, outside the Port Augusta hospital, rested and changed—but with no viable plan of action.

“You know, I still think my idea of offering the guard a chocolate, laced with sleeping pills, would work.”

“Yep. Probably would,” Ben replied reaching out with one large hand to gently push hair from my eyes, “but jail time is not featured in our plans for the future, babe.”

Our
and
future.

Warm prickles scurried across my skin and I had a sudden urge to slip both hands under Ben’s chocolate brown polo shirt, the one that mirrored the color of his eyes, and show him exactly what
I
thought of those two lovely words together in one sentence.

Down girl! I gulped another deep fortifying breath of cold air and stared at the plain brickwork of the hospital, silently counting windows in an attempt to distract my wanton thoughts. “Well, it’s better than
your
wacky idea,” I growled. “You know, the one where I do a strip-tease in the passageway while you sneak past the cop on duty into Scott Brady’s room.”

Ben quirked one eyebrow, a cheeky grin crinkling his lips. “You’re probably right. I’d want to stay and watch the show too—see how far you’d go to distract the guard.”

“
Duh
. As if I’d even start.”

On our approach, the automatic glass doors whirred open allowing a gang of leather clad bikers, most with blackened eyes or white bandages wrapped around their skull, to exit. After sucking one last gasp of fresh air, I followed Ben inside. As soon as the glass doors closed, my irrational fear of hospitals took over—artificial air, sick people, and the chilling smell of strong disinfectant and pain. An ice cold lump settled in my stomach and instant sweat blossomed under my armpits.

Not so Ben. He strode purposely toward the enquiry desk. To keep up with him I had to push my fears aside and lengthen my stride, our footsteps echoing on the hospital issue gray tiled floor as we walked.

“This is madness. Like reporting for an exam on molecular structure without knowing the first thing about physics,” I said. “Ben, we have no plan to get past the uniform on duty outside Scott’s door. We need one.”

“What say we try the legitimate way first? Ask if Scott’s allowed visitors. If not, we’ll play up the fact that you’re the lovely lady who rescued him and you just
have
to see if the poor man is okay.”

“Hmmm…worth a try,” I agreed. The sooner I spoke to Scott the sooner I’d find Liz.

We followed more signs on walls, and traipsed along what felt like several hundred passageways until we came to the Psychiatric ward.

Now came the tricky part.

“Good morning, I’m Kat McKinley,” I told a stressed looking nurse sitting behind the front desk. “I’ve come to visit Scott Brady.”

“Sorry,” she said, a frown creasing her forehead. “No-one’s allowed in with Mr. Brady. He’s under police guard and suicide watch.”

“Been a hectic morning, has it?” said Ben leaning his frame against the counter and aiming his hundred watt smile at the nurse. “Not that you look flustered. You look cool headed and serene. Like that movie star in
Sabrina
.”

She didn’t even glance up, just continued pecking away on the computer keyboard.

Ben’s smile fizzled to a lowly 25 watts while I couldn’t prevent a muffled giggle. Benjamin Taylor considered himself the ultimate lady’s man and was always surprised when his obvious flirting didn’t hit pay dirt. However, as his girlfriend, I found his failures quite satisfying to witness.

The other nurse at the desk glanced up from writing a report, caught Ben’s dimming smile and immediately blotted her lipstick between her full lips. “Yes, it
has
been chaotic this morning—but all part of a day’s work. What can I do for you, sir?”

Ben’s smile lifted its game and zoomed in on nurse number two who was definitely more receptive to his charms. “I’m Ben Taylor and this is Kat McKinley and you’re—” he paused, eyeing the name tag pinned to her starched uniform. “—Belinda Tanner. Well, Belinda, we were hoping to see a patient. Scott Brady.”

With another blot of her lipstick and a large smile for Ben, she turned to me. “Kat McKinley? Aren’t you the lady who pulled Mr. Brady from his car yesterday?”

“Yes, that’s the reason I want to see him,” I said, putting on a long face together with big puppy dog eyes. “I’ve been thinking of the poor man all night.”

“Actually, Mr. Brady’s been asking to see you. We’ve been worried about his recovery because he’s upset and won’t settle down. Says he needs to thank you.”

“He does?”

“Yes.” Once again the nurse’s eyes settled on Ben and she slipped him a wink.
Damn hussy
. Still, if it got us through Scott’s door, I guess I could refrain from strangling the woman with a dog lead—this time. “If you’d like to wait here, I’ll have a word with the cop on duty,” she said. “Officer Joel Patterson and I were in the same class at primary school, so maybe I can talk him into letting you in to see our patient.” She paused for effect, this time with a roll of her eyes. “Especially if I emphasize the fact that I spotted him cuddling a blonde bird, dressed in little more than a brightly colored scarf, deep in a dark corner of the Sunset Lagoon nightclub last weekend. And the woman he was cuddling was
not
raven-haired, Suzy, his current girlfriend.”

With another wink at Ben, the nurse set off down the passageway, emphasizing the
kaboom-kaboom
of her booty with every measured step.

“Earth to Ben,” I said and dug a well sharpened elbow into his ribs. “By the drool running down your chin, you’re enjoying that display far too much.”

Nurse Belinda spoke to the policeman on duty and within a couple of minutes she looked back at us and waved. “He says it’s okay, you can go in for a few minutes, Kat—but your
friend
will have to wait outside.”

“Go on,” said Ben, pushing me forward. “I’ll keep my ear to the door, in case you need a distraction.”

“As long as that’s
all
you do while I’m otherwise engaged,” I warned.

Officer Patterson stood up from his sentry’s chair as I approached. “I’m going against direct orders here,” he said. “But I saw you at the greyhound track yesterday struggling to keep the guy in there alive. I’ll give you three minutes to talk to him but you can’t talk about the case and I’ll be standing beside the suspect’s bed the whole time. Orders you know.”

“Thank you, Officer.”
Damn
. How could I grill Scott with a uniform hanging on every word I spoke? Shrugging my shoulders at Ben, I followed Officer Patterson through the doorway into a single hospital room and looked around. The patient was propped up in bed and although he’d lost his scary pink coloring and seemed to be breathing a little easier, he certainly didn’t look ready for a night on the town yet.