by Anna Willett
There were a few bushes and a peppermint tree between the back door and the front yard. From that point on she would be in the open as she made her way over the hill and back to her car.
“You can open your eyes,” she whispered above Clem’s head. “We’re out of the house. Now we just have to get to my car.”
She could feel Clem’s head moving as though he were nodding.
“Well done, Hopper. You were very brave. Now I need you to be really quiet while we get past the house, okay?”
Clem made another movement of his head.
Lucy skirted the building, sticking close to the trees. The sky was darker now, clouds crowding out the sun as dusk approached. When they reached the front corner, Lucy stopped and took a few breaths. She had to decide when to move. Smiley might still be searching for the boy, not realising he was gone, or he could be standing at the window watching the street. She had no way of knowing if it was safe to make a dash for the hill, so she broke from the trees and jogged over the hill with Clem’s bare feet bumping against her back.
As they approached the car, Lucy put on a burst of speed. “We’re nearly there.” She wasn’t whispering anymore, her voice humphing around her panting breaths as her boots clapped on the bitumen.
It was only when they reached the Saab and she leaned Clem’s weight onto the bonnet that she realised she’d dropped her handbag next to the bed when she coaxed Clem from under it. Her keys were inside the house she’d just fled.
A string of curses bubbled up her throat, but she bit them back not wanting to frighten Clem. How could she have left the bag behind? Maybe because I was petrified and had just discovered two dead bodies. It was a valid excuse, but whatever the reason she had messed up big time.
“Okay.” She was speaking to herself as much as to Clem. “It’s okay. We’ll be all right.” Her gaze landed on the mailbox with the drippy three. “We’ll knock on their door and use their phone.”
Once past the mailbox and overgrown shrubs, the driveway inclined at a steep angle. Although Clem’s body was small and frail, the effort of carrying him was taking its toll.
“I’m going to have to put you down for a few seconds.” She was struggling to get the words out and her legs felt rubbery. When she tried to lower him, Clem’s hands tightened around her neck. “Okay. It’s all right, sweetheart. I’m not going to leave you, but you’re getting heavy for me. I just need a little break.”
She rubbed his back, feeling the ridges of his spine through his thin T-shirt. “Please, Clem. I just need to catch my breath.”
To her relief, his grip loosened and she was able to stand him on the driveway. She looked around, taking in the trees and snatches of weeds around them as Clem’s little hand clung to her jeans. It didn’t look like the driveway had been used in months. She rubbed the back of her neck and gulped down a few breaths, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.
She turned back to Clem and was struck by how small and fragile he looked, standing on the gravel clinging to her leg. There were dark stains around his ears from the dye that had been applied to his hair. She didn’t want to imagine what he’d seen or what he’d been through over the last nine days. The terror swirling in her gut turned into a clench of determination. She was going to get him home if she had to carry him all the way to Cold Valley.
“Okay.” She was still a little winded, but feeling stronger. “Let’s get going.”
Clem’s lips twitched in what might have been the beginning of a smile.
Lucy stooped and Clem wrapped his arms around her neck so she could pick him up. As he folded himself against her, Lucy’s chest tightened with emotion and she found herself cradling his head like a mother would a small baby.
“Are we going home now?” His voice came as a whisper in her ear. A trusting whisper filled with hope.
Lucy started walking, trudging up the incline as she spoke. “We’re going to ask the people who live here if we can use their telephone. I’ll call the police and then while we’re waiting for them, we’ll telephone your mummy.”
Clem’s fingers were laced through her hair. “Will she come and get me?”
“It will be quicker if the police take us–”
Lucy’s mouth dropped open. If she hadn’t been holding Clem, she might have sunk to the ground and let her face touch the red stones.
The driveway ended at a burnt-out husk. Blackened posts held a blistered front door, which was the only part of the house that had been left standing amidst ashes and ruins.
Chapter Twenty-nine
He heard something from the rear of the house and for one heart-stopping moment Smiley thought it was Mimi. He gripped the edge of the sofa and was too afraid to move, because at any minute he expected her to come shuffling down the hall, eyes red and staring with the slack face of a zombie. He blinked when he looked towards the kitchen and thought he saw her shadow on the wall.
Instinctively, he reached for the knife sheathed at his ankle. When he straightened, the shadow was nothing more than a dark stain on the paint. Still holding the knife, he stalked towards the kitchen half expecting Mimi to be waiting with her dead arms outstretched.
The bodies were still on the floor. He could see them even while he kept his gaze high and fixed on the top of the fridge. Mimi was dead. She couldn’t hurt him. She couldn’t come back and drag him into the darkness. The noise had to have been the kid. Smiley’s grip clenched tighter around the knife. He had a job to do and then all of this would be behind him.
When he’d left the house earlier, the boy had scampered into the bedroom, so it was there Smiley headed. With the light on, the first thing he noticed was the handbag on the floor. It took him a second to comprehend what he was looking at. The bag looked expensive and not like something Elaine or Mimi would be able to afford. It also wasn’t the sort of item he’d expect to find on the floor in an old woman’s house. Teeth clenched, he picked up the handbag and rifled through its contents, discovering a set of keys, a smartphone, and a wallet.
He spat out a string of curses as he pulled the driver’s license out of the wallet. The photo on the card showed a woman about his age staring into the camera lens like she owned the world. His mind flashed back to the silver car. It was all coming together now. She’d come for the boy. She’d seen the bodies in the kitchen and now his plans were going down the toilet.
He stuffed the license in his pocket, dumped everything else back in the bag, let the bag drop onto the floor, then spun on his heels and thumped down the hall. Rocketing into the sitting room, he lunged for the window. She was on the road, running. He didn’t need to see her face to know it was the woman that had left her bag. Before she disappeared over the hill, he caught a glimpse of the boy in her arms. Smiley let out a bellow and slapped his hand on the glass, but the woman was too far away to hear.
There was no time to think. She had the kid and was probably getting into her car right now. If he didn’t do something, the woman and boy would be in town in ten minutes. How long would it be before the cops arrived after that? Twenty minutes? Not enough time for him to get a head start. Sweat was building on his neck and face. Anger, like acid, stewed in his stomach. He could run her off the road, then pull her out of her fancy car, and then… The keys.
He chuckled and brought the back of the hand that gripped the knife to his lips. The woman had left her keys behind. In the time it took to return to the bedroom and grab the keys, he’d given her another minute’s head start, which wasn’t long enough to make any real difference. As he pulled the front door open and jogged down the driveway, a new plan started taking shape. He’d get rid of her and the boy. There was no shortage of bushland around Narrogin. Plenty of lonely spots, great places to hide a couple of bodies and he would also have a car with no link to Mimi. He picked up his pace and crested the hill. His chest hurt from the exertion, but a sense of joy spread through his mind. The woman was a gift. She was a sign that things were starting to go hi
s way. All he had to do was catch her.
* * *
Damon ended the call.
“The local cops are busy,” he said.
He lowered the phone to his knee, then turned to Brock. “He wouldn’t say with what. Said the best he could do was drive by Elaine’s later this evening.”
Scrubbing a hand over his face, Damon tried to wipe away the feeling of helplessness.
Brock kept his eyes on the road. They were still at least twenty minutes from Narrogin. “What did he say when you mentioned the Clem Scott case?”
Damon gave a humourless laugh. “He told me the detectives handling the boy’s disappearance didn’t need our help. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m a crackpot.”
Brock nodded. “Not surprising. With high profile cases, especially ones involving kids, the crazies do come out of the woodwork.”
Damon was only half listening. Instead, his mind was working its way through possible scenarios as to why Lucy was unable to get to a phone. None of them were pleasant and none ended well. They knew very little about Mimi Shaw and what she was capable of, only that she’d been placed in foster care by her aunt. Three years later, Mimi ran away and finally ended up in a state run facility for juveniles with mental health issues. Now fifteen years later Shaw shows up at her former foster mother’s house wearing a fake pregnancy belly.
“Why would Mimi be at Marina Plick’s house?” He was thinking aloud, mulling over the facts, trying to get a clear image of the woman Lucy had gone to find.
Brock was used to the way Damon’s mind worked and knew throwing out questions helped him think. “Marina was her foster mother. Maybe Shaw wanted to see her,” he said.
It was an obvious answer, but not one that made sense.
“Mimi ran from Marina fifteen years ago. You don’t run away from someone you’re fond of.” Damon squinted at the road. “Unless... Mimi wasn’t there to see Marina.” The answer hit him like a blow, one that knocked the air out of his lungs.
He picked up his phone and found Larson’s number with fingers that felt sluggish.
“What are you thinking?” Brock said, glancing Damon’s way.
“That Mimi wasn’t in Cold Valley to see Marina Plick.” Damon had the phone to his ear, listening to ringing that was cut by static. “I think she was there for Tyson Plick.”
Chapter Thirty
Still dumbfounded by the burnt-out house, Lucy tried to get her brain working. The crunch of boots on the driveway got her moving. Ducking to the right, she clamoured down a short slope and into a crop of trees. Spotting a fallen trunk, she swerved further right and came to rest on a carpet of damp leaves.
She jerked Clem forward so he was crouched between her legs, then cupped his pale face with her hands.
“Don’t make a sound,” she said. His eyes were huge and glistening with tears, but when she nodded he did the same.
“Lucy?” Hearing her name almost made her gasp, but she held the sound in and kept her gaze fixed on Clem.
“I found your bag, Lucy.” Smiley sounded close. She could hear his footfalls on the driveway. “Come out and I’ll give you your car keys.”
While she realised he must have found her bag and looked at her ID, hearing her name on the faceless man’s lips chilled her. Clem’s lower lip was quivering. Lucy covered the boy’s mouth and shook her head. She could feel the child’s dry, cracked lips against the palm of her hand. In the gloom of the fading afternoon sun, she noticed that Clem’s cheeks were sunken. She had no idea how long it had been since he had water, but he was clearly dehydrated.
Up the incline and back towards the burnt-out house she could hear the man Clem called Smiley. His movements were heavy, suggesting he was jogging back and forth. How long would it be before he ventured down the slope and discovered them? They had to move and find a better hiding spot. Or better still, find help. Any sound might give them away, and even if they did manage to elude Smiley, where would they go?
She tried to clear her mind of fear and panic and focus on the location. The ruined house was number three. Elaine’s house was number two. It meant another house sat on the street. Number one should be further up the road. Lucy squeezed her eyes shut, forcing everything but her current train of thought out of her mind.
They were on the right of number three so it made sense that they’d be able to reach number one if they stayed on the same side of the street and worked their way west. She opened her eyes to find Clem still watching her.
“We’re going to go that way.” She had leaned close to the boy’s ear and indicated west. “We can’t make any noise.” He looked close to breaking down, but to her relief Clem blinked and nodded.
The next time she heard Smiley’s voice, it was further away and only the vowel sound was clear. If she’d been alone, she was pretty sure she could outrun Smiley by weaving and hiding, but carrying a child was going to slow her down. She’d have to move slower and try to make as little sound as possible.
“Okay, this is it.” She spoke into Clem’s ear as she stood and lifted him into her arms.
Glancing back at the incline, she could see no trace of the burnt-out house or Smiley, but she knew both were there and out of her range of view. With no more time to hesitate she moved forward into thicker bush.
The ground was soft and carpeted with leaves, suggesting recent rain. As she made her way between trees and shrubs, she tried to keep her progress in a straight line west while dodging in a zigzag pattern. After only a few minutes, her arms were aching and she was out of breath. With nothing to guide her, she was beginning to wonder if she was still heading in the right direction.
“I’m going to have to put you down for a minute.” She was panting as she lowered Clem to the ground.
Instead of staying on his feet, Clem crumpled into a sitting position on top of a pile of damp leaves. While he was still awake, Lucy didn’t like the faraway look in Clem’s eyes or the way his thin shoulders shivered. He needed help: water and a warm blanket. If he lost consciousness she’d be carrying dead weight. Dead. The word made her skin prickle.
Hurrying, she stripped off her suede jacket, pulled the penknife out of the pocket and stuffed it in the front of her jeans, then wrapped the jacket around Clem and swept him back up into her arms.
“You have to stay awake, Hopper. Promise me you’ll stay awake.” She was speaking fast and low as they plunged through trees and bushes that tore at her hair and jumper until she felt tattered and exhausted.
“I will.” His voice was tiny, almost inaudible as the wind picked up. Hearing him respond gave her hope and the energy she needed to keep going.
She veered right, hoping to find the road but as she turned, her shoe snagged on a low-lying vine and she stumbled. By jutting out her elbows she managed to avoid dropping her weight on top of Clem, but in doing so she jarred her arms against the ground with enough force to send a spike of pain radiating up to her left shoulder.
Clem let out a shriek of surprise as Lucy gasped in pain. Behind them, someone called her name. Startled and off balance, Lucy scrambled to her feet. Lifting Clem sent another shock through her injured arm, but she managed to get the boy off the ground and force herself to keep moving.
“Lucy.” She heard Smiley’s voice closer.
“Don’t listen to him.” She spoke to herself as much as she did to Clem. She’d seen the two women in Elaine Shaw’s house. She knew what Smiley was capable of. Their only hope for survival was to keep going and find help.
Sounds from what seemed like all directions had her confused as to which way to go. Finally she jogged right, turning and ducking through thick bush until the ground sloped down into a stream. With no idea where she was or how far they were from the road, she sucked in a deep breath and stepped into rushing water.
Gasping at the sudden shock of the water’s coldness, she held tight to Clem and sloshed across the rivulet. On the far side, the bank was steep and slick with mud. After two unsuccessful attempts to clim
b with Clem in her arms, she leaned against the bank panting. Wet almost up to the waist and with her jumper now sodden with mud, her limbs were stinging and chilled.
“I… I’m going to sit you on the grass.” Her teeth were chattering so hard it was difficult to get the words out.
Raising Clem above her shoulders caused a jolt of pain through her upper arm. Pushing up with a grunt, she managed to hoist the boy onto the bank. With her jacket still draped around him, Clem looked impossibly small and frail. His eyes were focused on her, but he had lapsed back into silence.
By digging her fingers into the mud and grabbing handfuls of slippery grass, she managed to pull herself up next to Clem. As she lay on the ground, her chest heaving from the effort, Clem crawled closer and nestled into her shoulder. Despite the exhaustion, Lucy felt an almost overwhelming surge of affection for the child and with it came another burst of energy.
She sat up and forced her tired body into action. Swaying slightly, she pulled Clem into her arms and continued on. Behind them and above the sound of the rushing water, she heard movement: twigs snapping and feet pounding. Smiley was closing in. In a few minutes he’d be crossing the stream. Fatigue, cold and injury were slowing her down. She knew she’d never outrun Smiley, not while carrying Clem. Reaching the neighbour’s house had been her only plan, but now it seemed like a pipe dream.
Stumbling through a crop of grass trees, she scanned the bush, noticing some of the trees had been scorched and blackened by a bushfire. What had once been a giant gum now looked like a twisted arrow pointing drunkenly towards the sky. There was less cover in this area, making them easy to spot. If she didn’t think fast, Smiley would be on top of them.
Lucy span around, her hair whipping her cheeks in damp strings. Her eyes fell on a burnt tree husk still standing but hollow on one side. Hurrying, she pulled her jacket off Clem and lifted him into the hollowed tree.
“Stay here.” She made her voice firm. “Do not come out until I come back, do you hear me?”
