CHAPTER 90.
It was dawn on the Monday. Back on the road, the rain was still falling but not as heavily. The brown river lifted and heaved, spreading itself across a broad swathe of what normally would be fields with trees. They trees were covered by fast flowing brown silty water, small bumpy lumps in the water showing where their tops were hidden. Some of the trees were as tall as ten metres but few showed above the surface.
The driver’s seat of Nigel’s Prado had jumped forward as the car rolled into the river. Nigel had been fully upside down for a while, suspended by his feet. Then the Prado had lowered its rear deep into the water, a boat caught on an iceberg, a ship stranded on a coral reef, a car held up by a tree and the force of the current in the river.
Nigel had been trapped in the Toyota Prado all night. He had not slept at all. After a while the pain in his legs eased as he lost all feeling. He was thirsty and had urinated in his trousers. To add to Nigel’s discomfort the Prado was sitting in tree branches at an acute angle with its back under water. Nigel’s feet were above his head as he lay unable to move his legs, as if he was in some strange dentist’s chair. The light coming through the windscreen added to the illusion of being in a dental surgery but there was no kind dental technician to put shaded glasses over his eyes.
Nigel was cold. He had managed to run the motor for some time so he could use the car’s heater and flash his headlights to alert anybody who happened to pass by. Nobody saw the lights and nobody came. Now the motor and the battery were dead. Nigel was chilled and he knew his core body temperature was dangerously low. With the cold came sleepiness, which he knew would be fatal if he succumbed to it.
Inside the cabin water sloshed about as waves of water from the river caught that bodywork of the vehicle. For a brief moment he indulged in a fantasy that a helicopter was coming to his rescue. Then a shadow passed between and the bright light coming through the windshield and he knew he was not hallucinating.
The noise of the helicopter spurred Nigel Jones to a greater effort to free his feet from under the pedals. He had moved the seat back as far as it would go but both feet were well and truly caught.
He had a thought. If he could move the seat forward again and use the seat pump lever to raise his body higher he might be able to reach the manual controls of the sunroof.
Above the Prado the watchers saw the sunroof move a little, far enough for a hand to appear and wave to them. As the helicopter moved closer the turbulence caught the side of the vehicle below, causing it to move away from the branches and into the stream.
“Backing off!” yelled the pilot.
The handler said, “I think I can get him on a rope.”
“No way!” said the pilot as he watched the Prado resume its journey downstream. “It’s moving too fast. It’s probably filling up now the tree isn’t holding it up.”
On his radio the pilot described what was happening, that one person at least had survived but the Prado was on the move. Word went out to a farmer with a boat that he had been using to rescue stock. His wife and he were wearing life jackets and towing a pontoon to carry the sheep that they found tangled in trees and branches or hunched on small shoals where the water had relented and released its hold over the land.
Nigel felt the SUV move. As it did, it dropped down into the water. Nigel was now sitting vertically in a car which was horizontal, almost. The water in the car had drained while the tree held the car up and the water level slowly dropped. Now the opposite was happening; water was again seeping into the front of the cabin. It had reached his knees and was over the seat cushions.
The eyes in the helicopter watched as the jet boat and the pontoon it was towing reached the drifting car. The farmer’s wife took the controls from her husband as he prepared to jump for the pontoon. Although he did not bridge the gap and landed in the water, he managed to climb on board the pontoon. Two startled sheep saw him clamber into the craft. They looked on curiously, not afraid and not spooked by the yellow bodied apparition.
The woman steered the boat at the Prado, passing it and then turning quickly making a C-shaped loop of the tow rope. The boat and the pontoon were now on each side of the Prado. She then moved forward slowly to draw the rope towards her, allowing the pontoon to hit against the side of the Prado while the boat was able to stand off.
The farmer could not open the door against the hydraulic pressure of the water. Nigel was still trapped and could not help. The farmer had a mallet with him, and an axe for chopping branches that held sheep in their grip. He swung the back of the axe at the sun roof. It took him three blows to break the safety glass, which broke into tiny shiny stars.
The farmer pulled himself onto the car roof and reached through the broken roof window. The farmer used the handle of the axe to lever the seat back, while Nigel pushed as hard as he could.
Suddenly the seat shot backwards, taking Nigel with it. A larger man might have remained trapped but Nigel was free. He could not use his feet because they felt dead and would not respond. He could use his legs and thighs so he wriggled upwards to the broken window using his arms. The farmer helped Nigel out of the cab and on to the roof of the SUV. Then he helped Nigel slip on to the pontoon. He followed and waved to his wife who went around the front of the SUV, took up the slack in the rope and slowly moved upstream, moving away from the now empty sinking Prado.
As soon as the Prado was clear of the boat and its trailer the farmer’s wife accelerated and the powerful jet boat towed the awkward load slowly upstream to where there was a landing place.
The two men huddled at one end of the pontoon with the sheep at the other. After their initial shock at seeing two bedraggled humans emerge from the flood water the sheep looked on, unimpressed. It was all part of the life of sheep.
CHAPTER 91.
Louise woke up to find Frank at her bedside.
“What are you doing back here?” she asked.
“Keeping you company,” said Frank.
“Where’s Alexander?”
“He’s in a bed in the Children’s Ward.”
Concern showed on Louise’s face. “Why? What’s happened to him?”
“Nothing. He got wet while I was rescuing you, that’s all. The Charge Nurse put him to bed for me.”
“Why? Why are you alone? Where’s Charlotte?”
“Don’t know. Where’s Nigel?”
“Don’t know.”
Conversation lapsed while a nurse came to take observations. Louise was looking pale but otherwise seemed to be physically well. She looked around the ward and realised that she was in hospital
“Charlotte,” she said. “Frank, she tried to kill me. I remember a needle.”
“Police have got it,” said Frank. “It got caught on your pyjamas when I carried you out to the car. You have an ugly needle hole in your arm.”
“Where?” Louise looked at her arm. A sticking plaster covered the wound left by the oversized needle. ”Oh. I see. Where are they? My pyjamas?”
“They were soaking. The wet and cold probably saved your life. You were full of heroin and Valium,” said Frank.
“I feel weak and giddy,” Louise admitted.
“Hung over,” said Frank. “I know all about that.”
‘Frank made a joke!’ thought Louise.
“Can I get you something?” he asked.
“Alexander,” she replied.
Frank went to find a nurse to take Louise to Alexander, leaving her to ponder on the changes in her normally gruff and surly husband who said he had saved her, that the cold and wet had helped; she was full of drugs. No. Not drugs. Never. Exactly what had happened in the past night?
CHAPTER 92.
The helicopter paramedic checked Nigel and found he was very cold. It looked as if both ankles had been broken. Nigel was placed on a stretcher and flown to Wahanui Hospital. . As he was hypothermic the paramedic struggled to keep Nigel awake because his body might shut down if he slept.
The helicopter was
still five minutes from the hospital landing pad when Nigel’s body suffered from delayed shock. The chopper was equipped for heart arrest and it was warm inside the cabin but the paramedic knew that Nigel’s state was critical. The pilot called the hospital to prepare for Nigel.
It all happened quickly and efficiently. The mountainous terrain to the south of Wahanui produced a regular crop of hypothermia sufferers among trampers, hikers and mountaineers. Nigel was given immediate treatment and placed in an intensive care ward.
Louise was being given special treatment at the hospital where she had worked for so many years. Although a quiet person, she had gained respect for standing firmly on principle. Staff at the hospital who knew Louise had been shocked at the circumstances surrounding her resignation. They knew that she had been having problems at home, and rumour had it that someone was spitefully stalking her. Some thought Frank was retaliating on Louise because of the break up. Others thought the attacks were caused by her founding of Calling Out Monsters, an action for which she was generally admired.
Louise felt awful. Her mind was still all over the place and she was hallucinating. At one stage she thought that she was in Heaven and talked to Father Larkin and Frank, who had joined her there. Louise slept a lot. She woke up to find Frank still beside her bed, on a chair that was too small for him.
“Frank,” she said. “What time is it?”
“Three in the afternoon,” said Frank. Having been with her since her admission, Frank had seen Louise struggle to pull out of the hold the drug held on her.
“My mouth is foul,” said Louise. “Can you make a cup of tea? Where is Father Larkin?”
“I’ll get one in a minute,” said Frank, pressing the call button to summon a nurse.
“Where’s Alexander? Is he all right?” she asked. “Where is Kezia?”
The nurse arrived to check on Louise. When Frank returned with a cup of teas he had made in the ward kitchen Louise was more alert.
“Frank? What are you doing here?” she asked. “How did I get to the hospital?”
“Don’t you remember anything?” asked Frank. “I brought you here. Someone shot you full of heroin. I found you and brought you here. Alec is fine, and Kezia is in Dunedin.”
Louise suddenly remembered that Frank and she had separated. “Frank, where is Charlotte?”
“I’ll tell you later,” said Frank. “I’ll sit with you for a while, then I have to check on Alec. ”
When Louise fell asleep Father Larkin came and sat with her to give Frank some relief. He talked to her and quoted scripture until her mind began to clear. Then he told her that Frank had been a hero, going out into the storm because he had a premonition that something was wrong. Towards the end of the day, when Father Larkin had used up all of his conversation and the ladies from the Church had come and gone Louise slept naturally. Louise was all right now, and in good care. Father Larkin was no longer needed. His next task was to find Charlotte’s parents and offer consolation even though they were not of his faith.
Frank first went to see Alexander, who was in a playroom having fun with a toy bulldozer and then left the hospital to go to the Police Station to answer questions about Charlotte and what he thought might have happened. Frank was exhausted from stress, travel and events the previous night. Although he had saved the woman he loved, she was no longer for him but now loved someone else. His new partner, with whom he had been falling in love, was gone, snatched away by a cruel twist of fate. He still had Alexander, but that would not be for long as he would surely go to prison.
Nigel recovered quite quickly. He was worried about Louise, who was the reason for his dangerous drive. His legs were in plaster but he was not in traction. He was worried and bored and tired and fractious.
“Time to get dressed, Mr Jones,” said an older nurse. “We’ve got to go and see somebody I think you will like meeting.”
As she put a dressing gown on him she said, “Mr Jones, that was a very dangerous journey you made. You must love your partner very much to take such a risk.”
“Uh-huh,” said Nigel. “But it didn’t pay off, did it Nurse. I didn’t get to her in time. But I understand she is alright.”
The nurse stayed silent. She put him in a wheelchair and rolled him away from his ward.
“You can’t be away long,” she said. “A priest called Father Larkin wants to see you.”
He had to sit in a wheelchair to be taken to where Father Larkin was sitting beside a bed. Louise was sitting up in the bed talking to the priest.
“Nigel!” she exclaimed when she saw him.
Then, “You’re in a wheelchair. What happened?”
Nigel, with both legs in plaster, was to be released the next day but Louise needed to be kept under observation for a little longer.
Father Raymond Larkin took his leave. Nigel and Louise talked about their experiences. Nigel was mortified that his rescue mission had not been successful. They both believed the Mollison Brothers had drugged Louise to kill her. Nigel was grateful to Frank for rescuing Louise, but he felt ashamed that he had spent an extra day sightseeing in Christchurch when he should have been looking after this partner.
“Don’t be stupid,” said Louise. “If you had been with me we would both have died.”
CHAPTER 93.
Graeme Thomson was a teacher, ‘Always taking charge’, his wife Sandra would jest. She was a pharmacist, working in a chemist’s shop in central Wahanui. Graeme had been concerned for Louise Copperfield, their neighbour, who had not been seen since before the storm. As it had been Labour Weekend, they thought that Louise might be away on holiday. The storm was long-lived and extremely violent. Until the electric power failed, they had watched in horror on the television the awful scenes of destruction and flooding. Sandra had walked all the way into town to see if her skills were needed. The owner of the chemist’s shop welcomed her because only a registered pharmacist like Sandra could dispense the prescriptions ordered by doctors. Sandra worked very hard all day. Too tired to check on Louise, she ate the meal Graeme had prepared and went to bed.
When dawn came on the Monday, the electric power was working. A Public Holiday meant Sandra had no work. Although all schools were closed for the duration Graeme would be needed at the school to sort out flood damage.
“While I get breakfast, would you slip next door and check on Louise, please Graeme?” asked Sandra. “I’m worried about her.”
Sandra prepared breakfast but Graeme did not return. Then a police car arrived. Sandra knew that Graeme would call on her if her skills were needed but no call came. Sandra used her cell phone.
“Graeme, what’s going on?” she asked. “Why are the police here? Has anything happened to Louise?”
“There’s been a couple of deaths,” said Graeme. “I’ll tell you later.”
Sandra was filled with emotion. Louise was older than Sandra by a good margin but the two women got on well together. Newly arrived from England, the Thomsons had valued the advice given by both Louise and Frank, although Frank could be a strange fellow. Sandra knew that Louise and Frank had their problems, and that Frank had recently left Louise. She had talked with Louise about her new man when she asked if Graeme could install a camera that looked over the fence into Louise’s property. ‘A couple of deaths’? That could be a murder-suicide. Shocked, Sandra made a pot of tea and sat down by the kitchen window to drink it.
When Graeme returned to the house, a police officer came back with him.
“Hello,” said the officer. “I’m WPC Jenkins. I’m sorry to disturb your day but there have been some deaths at your neighbours’ house. We need the forensics people to finish up then the undertakers will move the bodies to the funeral parlour while we contact next of kin. Do you know anyone who could identify the victims?”
Sandra said, “Kezia is in Dunedin. She’ll need to be told. Frank is in Australia, I think. They’re living apart. I know both Louise and Frank. I’ll do it if you like. ”
WPC
Jenkins went back to her car and waited. Another car arrived with a doctor, a lady. Sandra and Graeme ate their breakfast at the window so that they could see what was happening then got ready for work.
“There’s nothing we can do,” said Graeme.
“Was it Louise?” asked Sandra.
“I think so,” said Graeme. “I didn’t really look too hard. She had no clothes on. Her hair was blonde, though between her legs was black.”
“But Louise is brunette,” said Sandra.
“Perhaps she’s dyed it?” asked Graeme. “Who else would be in her bed?”
“A house sitter?” suggested Sandra.
“No car,” said Graeme. “A house sitter would bring a car.
WPC Jenkins waited in her car for a forensics team to arrive. The first body was a mess. The victim’s throat had been cut. He had bled out over the second victim who had either suffocated or died from an overdose of drugs.
The scenario was quite clear; tablets that looked like sedatives spilled on the cabinet top, an empty glass of water, a woman on her own recently deserted by her husband.
'Another sad loss,’ thought Jenkins as she waited. Finally, a van drew up and woman with a heavy camera and a crime scene bag walked towards the police car.
“Polly Keepa. Scene of Crime. Inspector Chadwick said that in the circumstances, this is a crime scene,” she said. Polly Keepa was of Maori descent. She was a large rounded woman, tall and fit. Her black hair fell in waves around her round face, framing her beautiful brown eyes, like those of a horse Colleen Jenkins had once owned. Polly’s nose was wide and rather flat, her lips full over strong white teeth. Her smile was radiant even in these circumstances. The thing that struck Colleen Jenkins about Polly Keepa was the other woman’s dignity, even on a morning like this.
The Stalking of Louise Copperfield Page 31
