by K T Bowes
Logan conceded for the moment but Hana saw the gleam in his eyes. She gritted her teeth and determined not to allow him to abandon her at the mercy of his weird family. As she battled tiredness, Logan kissed her pink cheek and left her to her dreams. “Tell Sheila I’m coming back to work on Monday,” she muttered, not seeing him raise his eyebrows in disbelief.
“See you tomorrow,” he whispered. “I love you.”
Logan drove to Amy’s house, his knock on the door answered by a hostile Bodie. “Sod off,” the younger man said and moved to slam the door in his face.
Logan shoved the toe of his cowboy boot between the gap and barged the aperture wider, taking Bodie by surprise. “Don’t play this game with me, son,” he growled. “You might not know it yet, but I assure you it won’t end well.” He shouldered Bodie aside. “You can arrest me later if you wish, but right now I intend to take your son’s bedroom apart. You can help me, or watch. I don’t really care.”
“I already looked!” Bodie postured, petulance creeping into the rigid squaring of his shoulders. “Who do you think you are?”
Logan stopped and turned, his grey eyes reading jealousy in the tilt of Bodie’s head. “I’m the man who loves your mother, dickhead. And I’ll keep her safe no matter what it costs. Laval wants his paperwork and it’s here somewhere. Unless you want Odering to get a search warrant for this house and embarrass your girlfriend, I’d start helping real fast.”
“Amy’s not my girlfriend!”
Logan snorted. “Then you’re more of an idiot than I suspected.”
Bodie’s jaw flexed in his cheek and Logan knew the moment he gave in. He jerked his head towards Jas’ bedroom and followed Logan. They worked together to pull the room apart. Logan wrinkled his nose as he hauled a cabinet across the floorboards without emptying it. “Bring a bucket of water and some cloths,” he grunted.
“Why?” Bodie stopped moving the bed and came to look at the covering of dust and fluff on the skirting board. “Oh. I don’t think housekeeping is Amy’s strong point.”
Logan stopped and looked at him with his head tilted downwards. “Your kid sleeps here, asshole. Amy works full time and raises your kid single-handed. Get on your knees and clean it.” He shook his head and sneered. “Take that as a life lesson.”
“Or what?” Bodie snorted and his cocky expression flicked a switch in Logan’s self-control. He grabbed Bodie’s throat in his large fingers and squeezed, a smile breaking across his lips as the other man flailed. The length of his arm rendered Bodie’s kicks ineffective. The young cop’s nails scratched welts in his forearms as Logan drove him back against the wall.
“Or I’ll clean it with your face,” he whispered. He let go. Bodie choked and slid down the wall, anger and shame vying for dominance in his downturned mouth. His training proved useless against an unpredictable force like Logan Du Rose. The handsome Māori shook his head.
“Don’t feel bad, kid. I’ve put down bigger guys than you. I tried hard not to hurt ya.” Logan shrugged and hauled the cupboard free. Something caught his eye, trapped between the floorboards. He dropped to his knees and made a grabbing motion behind his back. “Get me tweezers or something to grab this with.”
“Get stuffed!” Bodie rubbed his neck and turned his head from side to side.
“Fine.” Logan shrugged without looking back. “Then I’ll just rip the floorboards up and go under the house. Don’t worry, I’ll let you put it all back together after I leave.”
Bodie fetched tweezers from Amy’s room and Logan extracted the folded sheets from between the floorboards. Despite his care, the fold ended up battered and ripped, rendering large chunks unreadable. The men didn’t speak again, but when Bodie fetched soap and water, Logan washed the skirting boards of the small bedroom and polished the floorboards until they shone. His stepson’s arrogance galled him, but he decided the lesson would keep for another time. His kuia taught him that leadership often walked on its knees.
He found Hana without a drip when he returned to the hospital. She’d plastered lipstick around her mouth with her left hand in an attempt to convince him of her good health. Instead, it served to make her resemble a vampire. A sling supported her arm and she maintained her intention to discharge herself. “I know Angus expects you back at work tomorrow,” she said, rubbing her face and spreading lipstick into her eye. She blinked in surprise as it stung. “So I’ve told them I’ll stay until school finishes.”
“You’re kidding? How will you manage at home?”
“My husband will help me.” Hana’s beautiful smile disarmed him. A wicked glint lit her eyes. “In return for certain favours.”
He sighed and resigned himself to her inevitable discharge. His body looked leaden as he perched on the side of her bed and examined the scuffs on his boots. “I need to tell you something,” he said, biting the inside of his cheek. “And you’re gonna flip.”
Hana sighed. “I already know. Amy rang me.”
“Oh.” Logan looked surprised, not imagining Bodie might be so candid about his throttling. “He told her.”
“No, she saw for herself.”
Logan’s eyes narrowed in confusion. He left no marks on Bodie’s body. Perhaps he’d lost his touch. “Saw what?” He smiled in innocence and Hana patted his knee with her good hand.
“You cleaned up Jas’ bedroom and got rid of the mold on the wall. She said you found the papers.”
“Oh, yeah.” Logan relaxed. “Bodie helped with the cleaning. I took the papers and the box to Odering.” He wrinkled his nose. “Jas kept his old teeth in the box. I nipped to the metal tech teacher at school and he gave me a spare. Some kid didn’t bother picking it up at the end of last year. Jas might not notice the difference.”
Hana sighed. “He did, but he’s okay with it. He likes it better without the spikey bit in the corner. We talked and he’s forgiven me for not telling him first.”
“Cool.” Logan dragged a hand over the bristles on his chin. Dark shadows ringed his grey eyes and Hana tuned into his tiredness.
“You should get some sleep,” she said, running a hand through his silky hair. “Ready for me coming home.”
Logan’s phone rang and he looked at the caller’s name, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “Odering!” he spat. “I’ll take it in the corridor.”
Hana knitted her brow. “You don’t need to,” she said to his retreating back.
Outside, Logan’s tone remained clipped. “What?” he snapped. “You got what you wanted.”
Odering’s voice sounded tinny and detached. “You know what else I wanted, Du Rose. Did you give it any more thought?”
“No. Sod off. Leave Hana out of your plans from now on. We’re done.”
Odering clicked his tongue. “Forensics went through the Achilles Rise house and found Flick’s fingerprints. He’d touched pretty much everything. Why wouldn’t he act with more care?”
“How should I know?” Logan watched a nurse pad by and waited until she passed to continue the conversation.
Odering prattled on. “Apparently forensics needed to be quick because this fat chick followed them round with a vacuum cleaner.”
“Henrietta. She volunteered to get the house straight for the tenants.” Logan allowed himself a smirk at the image of Pete’s girlfriend herding the cops from room to room at speed.
“The documentation appears to be land deeds,” Odering said. Logan heard the sound of a printer spitting out paper in the background.
“Yeah, we worked that out. But paper records are outdated. Deeds transfer online every day of the week; they aren’t worth killing over. Did you work out what that other document was? I ripped the official stamp as I pulled it from between the floorboards. It looked like a kid’s drawing.”
“The guys here say it’s an engineer’s report,” Odering ventured. “It’s dated around a decade ago. They’re looking into it.” He didn’t see Logan’s shrug of disinterest as he watched Hana
negotiate her way to the bathroom. She stood outside the door and glared at the tie on her tracksuit pants as though it may undo itself.
“I need to go,” Logan said, pushing himself away from the wall. The sole of his boot left a mark in the paintwork.
“Wait,” Odering said. “The other thing is a handwritten will on a standard do-it-yourself form. The missing woman from Northland signed it. Her son verified a scan of the signature. We presume she’s dead.”
“Okay. Catch them now then,” Logan replied. “I won’t do your damn job for you. I’m an English teacher not a detective. I think you’ll find our salaries reflect that fact.” He hung up without saying goodbye.
He drove home, checking in his side mirrors every few seconds for anyone following. Retrieval of the documents might make no difference to Hana’s situation. The blonde man needed to know she didn’t have them anymore and Logan wondered how to make that happen. Culver’s Cottage wrapped its cold fingers around him as he entered. Hana’s absence left a gap in his world and he wasn’t prepared to allow its permanence.
Logan arrived at the Bramwell early the next afternoon. He ran the stairs instead of using the elevator, checking in at the nurses’ station and making his way down the plush corridor to Hana’s room. He halted in the doorway at the sight of Angus occupying the visitor’s chair. Hana perched on the bed holding court. She looked wired. “Told you I was going home,” she said to Angus and the principal raised his bushy eyebrows.
“I didn’t deny that fact, Hana,” he said in his lyrical accent. “I said you shouldn’t.”
Logan nodded to them both and spoke to his wife. “I’ll collect the discharge paperwork from the nurses’ station. I won’t take long.” He reached out and stroked a lock of hair back from her face. Her wonky ponytail barely kept her curls in order.
“I’ll come with you,” Angus said, rising to his feet. “I haven’t seen much of you lately.”
Logan shrugged as the man followed him along the corridor, stopping at a mid-way point. “You don’t need to see me,” he said, quirking an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”
Angus clasped his hands behind his back in his characteristic thoughtful pose. He lowered his glasses on his nose and peered over them. “Caroline Marsh secured work at the girls’ school. She’s still in Hamilton.”
Logan let out a sigh before he could prevent it and knew his body language betrayed his exasperation. “I don’t care.”
“She’s pregnant and showing.” He pushed his glasses up. “I’m told the child is yours.”
Logan took a step backwards and his face clouded. “It isn’t.”
Past retirement age and shorter than Logan, Angus channelled determination as he took a step towards him. Piercing blue eyes held his gaze. “If I discover otherwise, Du Rose, I will not sanction the abandonment of a defenseless child.” He jabbed a finger into Logan’s chest. “I will find an excuse to fire you and hound you out of this city faster than you imagine.”
Logan gritted his teeth. “The child is not mine.”
Angus took another step forward, watching rage war in Logan’s eyes. “Don’t make the mistake of underestimating me, Du Rose! I know who you are. I’ve always known, son. Your connections don’t frighten me and never have.” He jabbed a finger back towards Hana’s room. “But if you hurt that woman in there, I’ll make it impossible for you to teach in this country ever again! Mud sticks, Mr Du Rose.” Angus took a step back and smiled. “I’ll stick it so hard to you, no self-respecting principal will ever employ you. I’ll only need to hint about your associations and it will be game over.”
Logan shrugged as though not caring and Angus shook his head. “Oh, you might not need the money, boy. But it’s who you are; Logan Du Rose the effective teacher, good at everything you touch. You take away what matters to Hana and I’ll return the favour. That’s not a threat, boy. It’s a promise!” He whipped round on his shiny shoes and clicked down the stairs without looking back, not even to witness the devastation he left behind.
Logan leaned against the wall, letting the coolness of the plaster sink into his scalp. Caroline’s threat returned to bite him. She’d uttered the same words. “I know who and what you are!” He ran a shaking hand across his mouth, before letting it drop to his side. His fingers twitched as he passed over his credit card to cover the astronomical hospital bill. Shoving the receipt into his pocket, his disinterest halted the receptionist in her inane chatter. Gathering his wits and forcing a smile on his face, Logan walked back to Room 102 to fetch his wife.
Hana emerged from the bathroom, hauling her pants up around her waist. “Angus said Boris isn’t leaving.” She dug her teeth into her bottom lip. “He’s applying for a visa extension to stay on longer.”
“He never said.” Logan shoved the discharge papers and a prescription into Hana’s bag. He raised an eyebrow. “Although he doesn’t say much anymore. I asked him the other day if he had issues and he bit my head off.”
“That doesn’t sound like him.” Hana straightened her sling and clambered onto the bed. “Angus seemed rather keen to speak to you. Problems?”
Logan rolled his eyes and stroked her lopsided ponytail. “Nothing I can’t handle, babe. You ready to come home?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Hana stared through the side window and avoided looking in Logan’s direction. Caroline’s image drifted through her memory like a curse.
“You shouldn’t ask if you might not like the answer.” His voice sounded cowed and distant. “You push me to tell you stuff and then punish me. I bloody hate it.”
The sound of the tyres rumbling against the road surface filled the silence, lasting until the outskirts of Ngaruawahia. Hana battled her inner feelings of jealousy and fear. Even the mention of Caroline’s name set her nerves jangling and the knowledge she’d stayed in Hamilton overwhelmed her. The woman could destroy her mood by proxy.
She sensed Logan stealing sideways glances at her and cringed. Another tear rolled down her cheek and she wafted it away with a hand which smelled of generic soap and hospital. He reached out and touched her thigh. “Sorry, babe,” he conceded.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” She shut the conversation down, not wanting Caroline to claim any more ground in her marriage. But internalising the monster’s existence gave it more power. Hana sighed at the irony.
“This is exactly why I said nothing.” Logan shook his head in an angry movement. “But the jungle drums are still beating. Best you hear it from me.”
“Stop!” Hana raised her good hand. “Please stop talking about her.”
Logan shook his head and stared through the windscreen. “So much for honesty,” he muttered.
Hana’s homecoming lacked enthusiasm and Logan abandoned her to chop wood outside. The laden wood basket by the fire highlighted the lack of need for his activity and Hana drew her own conclusions. She wandered around, her heart leaden in her chest. A headache tugged at the back of her skull despite the heavy painkillers that coursed through her bloodstream. They took the edge off her physical hurts but couldn’t numb the emotional trauma. Logan clattered around in the kitchen washing his hands and Hana padded in wearing one sock and her underwear. “Please can you help me?” she asked with forced politeness. The fingers of her good hand clutched the monkey pyjamas.
Logan wrinkled his nose at the tattered fabric and dried his hands. He channelled his irritation into the monkey on the front with its tongue out. Hana groaned as her awkward cast snatched and grabbed at the cloth sleeve, making her whole arm ache. “Stop!” she begged as it stuck half way up her arm. Logan ground his teeth and Hana baulked at the anger in his eyes. “It’s hurting!” she pleaded. “I’m stuck.”
Logan swore, loosing a series of hideous words. “I hate these things,” he spat, jerking his head towards her pyjamas. Snatching the scissors from the drawer, he sliced around the cuff, ignoring Hana’s wails of protest. The sleeve broke free and rolled up her arm, th
reads dangling from the severed fabric like nerve endings.
“Izzie bought me those!” she shouted, peering at the dilapidated sleeve. Her tear-filled eyes accused him of brutality.
Logan slammed the scissors back into the drawer and shut it with his hip. “Before or after God chucked Adam out of the garden?” His tone dripped sarcasm and Hana seized the bait.
“Is that a reference to my age?” Her green eyes widened, causing the tears to cascade onto her cheeks. She backed away, her knickers showing beneath the frayed hem of her shirt.
“Only to the pyjamas!” Logan raised his arms in an exasperated movement. “Stop reading into everything.”
Hana ran from the room, turning late and colliding with the doorframe. She carried her right side with stiffness and refused to cry out, despite the pain. Logan’s concerned voice followed her and she ignored him, running into the bedroom and slamming the door. When one slam offered no satisfaction from her physical and mental agony, she added two more, which didn’t help either.
Hana climbed into bed and settled on her left side, balancing her broken arm across her hip. Even the weight of the sheets aggravated it. She heard the click of the door as Logan ventured into the room and she tensed.
“What’s upset you most?” he asked. His footsteps padded across the floorboards and he paused beyond the bed. “I’m sorry I wrecked the monkey pyjamas. I’ll apologise to Izzie and buy you more.” He strayed closer, placing a scarred hand on the bedpost. Hana peered over her shoulder at his face, experiencing a jolt of satisfaction at the whipped expression. Her shoulders slumped at his next sentence. “It’s not just about the pyjamas though, is it?”
Hana shook her head. “No. It’s unfair that Caroline has the power to wreck things for us. I wanted to come home so much and now it’s ruined.”
Logan sank into the bed next to her and lay back against the pillows. His clasped hands cupped the back of his head. “It’s only ruined because you let it happen. She’s out to make life hard for me and every time we fight, she gets her wish.”
