I took his arm, trying to share some of the calm the woman had infused in me. "I'm fine. I was just talking to that couple and I..." I trailed off as the names they'd used sank in. "I just had a really crazy thought. Do you think when God gets bored, he or she chains the devil up and tries to brainwash him into being a decent citizen?"
Nathan stared at me. "I don't know. I'd have thought they played chess or arm wrestled or something like that, with souls or the world at stake. I don't think chains and bondage would be...would be..." He doubled over, breathing hard.
"Nathan. Nathan. Oh shit, I shouldn't have...Let's just go home. Stuff the caves – it was a bad idea and I'm scared of the dark, anyway. Give me the keys. I'll drive." I fished the keys out of his pocket. "Let's get you home."
FORTY-NINE
Maybe halfway back to Busselton, just after Yallingup, the car started making a strange sound. I strained my ears, trying to work out what it was.
Nathan drowned it out as he turned the music up.
“Stop it! Turn that down. I’m trying to work out what that noise was,” I scolded, clicking the stereo off.
Nathan cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Um, it was me. My stomach’s growling because I’m starving. Any chance we can stop for lunch?”
I reached into the glove compartment and pulled out the map from the tourist office. Beth had given it to me at breakfast, marking the caves and some chocolate places she recommended we visit. “Pick a winery along the way and we’ll pull in there for lunch. Lots of them have restaurants.”
“I don’t drink wine,” Nathan said, shuddering. “I could go a cold beer, though.”
An arrowed sign ahead pointed the way to a brewery on the left. “Beer it is, then.” I indicated and turned off Caves Road.
The side street meandered through paddocks until it ended in a gravel car park outside a pretty ordinary-looking building with a tin roof. Between the pool table on the veranda and tables and chairs scattered around the grass and inside the place, it looked like it served something to make people want to stay. Not that there were many around – after two on a weekday was too late for lunch...for everyone except Nathan, apparently.
We ordered our food and drank some oddly named beers while we waited for lunch to be prepared. I wasn't sure what Nathan's murky brew was called, nor what was in it, but I'd capitulated and ordered a beer that claimed to have been made with strawberries. After one mouthful, I figured it was true – but beer and strawberries were a strange mix. I took another sip, trying to decide if I liked it or I hated it.
A sharp crack made Nathan shoot to his feet, scanning the room for the source of the shot.
I twisted in my seat and realised the strange round table I'd dismissed earlier was a peculiar pool table – the report I'd heard came from a bloke's smooth break of the balls.
Nathan's swearing drew my eyes back to him. He'd managed to knock his beer over and even his frantic efforts to clean the beer splashes off his shirt didn't hide how badly his hands were shaking. Nathan sure was a nervous wreck today. Had he spotted some risk to our safety that he hadn't told me about? Or were his demons catching up with him, overwhelming him so that he needed help he was too proud to ask for, and the sudden sound had just brought his shattered nerves to breaking point?
Recalling the strange woman's words, I summoned a smile and said, "Would you like to play a game of pool after he's done? I want a rematch after last night. I don't think I've ever played so badly in my life."
Nathan seemed to relax a bit as he agreed, then headed up to the counter to order a replacement beer. His hands shook less as he ate his nachos – thankfully, as the abundant fresh salsa would've gone everywhere otherwise.
I let him break when it was our turn on the pool table, knowing he'd do a better job of it than I could. He winced at the sound though he tried to hide it. I said nothing, just moving forward to take my shot. If anything, I played worse than I had last night – Nathan was going to win for sure.
After he'd sunk about half his balls and I'd managed to sink exactly one – and one of his, at that – I summoned the courage to mention the house.
"Do you mind if we take a detour on the way back to the guesthouse?" I asked casually, lining up my next shot.
"What? Where?" He stiffened as if I'd shoved my cue up his bum.
My shot went wide again. I sighed and straightened. "The house my cousin wants me to inherit. It's on the way back and I think worrying about it is one of the reasons I'm having nightmares again. The sooner I see it, the sooner I can decide what to do with it." And the sooner I could take Nathan on a proper holiday with the proceeds. It'd been a mistake to take him somewhere so close to Perth, where he jumped at his own shadow. A deserted tropical island, maybe, where no one knew us and they only had one flight in a day, or, better yet, once a week.
Nathan relaxed again. "Oh. Sure. Whatever you want." In three shots, he sank his two remaining balls and the black. "Do you want me to beat you a third time at the guesthouse tonight, or would you like another attempt on this table first?" He carefully chalked his cue before returning it to the wall rack.
I set mine in place beside it. "You're not going to beat me. Violence isn't your style, Nathan. But I'll lose my next game at the guesthouse, I think. Time to go see that house while we still have a bit of daylight left."
FIFTY
I gave in to curiosity and asked, "So, where is this house?"
"Osprey Bay."
I spluttered. "You can't be serious. That's where Alanna's body was dumped. Where you...where I...that's the beach where you..." Did she know how few houses there were in Osprey Bay? Hers could be right next door to where she'd been held captive. Hell, Alanna could have been murdered on her back lawn. And while she'd been locked in that underground dungeon, I'd lived in a house there for weeks, agonising over a decision that should have been crystal clear.
"I know. But I've inherited this property there and I need to see it to decide whether to sell it or keep it. The real estate agent said it's both a goldmine and heaven on Earth, which doesn't help me decide anything except not to trust the real estate agent." She managed a weak grin.
I hesitated. "I'll come to the house, but I'm not setting foot on that beach again. I'll have nightmares just thinking about it. I don't even need to see it."
Caitlin's fingers crept over mine, clinging tightly. "Nathan, I need to go there at some point. I need to see where I almost died. Where you almost died. You don't have to come with me, but I need to stand there. It's part of letting go."
Fuck. The only thing worse than me going there was her alone there without me. "No. I won't let you go there by yourself."
Her eyes blazed. "Nathan, you try and stop me and I will fucking tase you and leave you where you fall. You don't control me. You could never control me and if you think I'll let you get away with being an overprotective asshole –"
"I've changed my mind. I'll go with you. Call me whatever names you want. I'll go crazy with worry if you go without me. I'm terrified of seeing that bloody beach, but what frightens me more is you there alone. The last time I left you there alone, I had to kill someone and I don't know what he did to you while I wasn't there."
She grinned fiercely. "So you're coming? Don't worry, I'll hold your hand, Nathan. Anyone else comes after me and they won't survive to regret it. I've had enough of living in fear."
My head told me to be terrified. Caitlin had killed and she'd do it again if she had to. I didn't doubt that for a minute. And if she wanted to shoot me on the beach where I'd failed her, so be it. I'd open my arms and welcome justice at her hands.
What scared me is how much it turned me on, because I wanted her. Bad. Shit, how fucked up did that make me?
I stayed silent as we headed north and then west on Osprey Bay Road. I didn't say a word as we passed the resort, though I knew there were only a handful of houses between the resort and the national park. And one of them was the one where...
"There. Numb
er one hundred," she said in satisfaction. The black, bulbous driveway marker taunted me as we pulled up beside it. Sure enough, it bore the number I'd never noticed before. Caitlin leaned out the window. "That looks like one of those old World War II sea mines that sank ships. I didn't think we had any of those here. Must have washed up here, carried on the current. I hope it's not still armed." She accelerated slightly along the rutted driveway as I fought down my panic.
So much for not going anywhere near places that scared me.
"What? What is it?" Caitlin asked, staring at me.
I had to swallow three times before I could get the words out. "Angel, this is their house. The house your kidnappers lived in. And that –" I pointed a shaking finger at a track leading from the house into the national park "– THAT is the way to the bunker where they almost killed you. I think your so-called cousin is a lying sack of shit who's trying to kill you and we should get the hell out of here."
"You could be right," Caitlin said grimly, unbuckling her seatbelt. "But no one knows we're here, so no one's expecting us. This could be our only chance to see this place without a welcoming party." She opened her door and stood on the gravel drive. "C'mon, Nathan, let's lay some ghosts to rest."
"And if any of them aren't ghosts yet?" I couldn't help asking.
My avenging angel grinned as she pulled a bulky, metal torch and her taser from the boot of the car. "Demons, you mean? Then we can fucking tag team them. I want my life back."
My mouth went dry. Shit, how could I back down when she had so much courage? I looked like a coward compared to her if I didn't do this. And I'd never forgive myself if anything else happened to her. She could shoot me later – but not before I'd protected her one last time. I took a deep, shaky breath, praying my voice wouldn't squeak with the terror coursing through my veins. "Then let's check out the bunker first before it's completely dark outside."
FIFTY-ONE
"So this is where I was held." Caitlin's voice was flat as her torch swept across the floor. She didn't mention the dark stains that still streaked the concrete.
"Yes," I replied hoarsely, clearing my throat. I glanced at the door, lying in a nest of crime scene tape. Dust had covered my boot marks, so you could barely see where I'd kicked it off the hinges the last time I'd been here. "I'm so sorry. If it wasn't for my parents, if they hadn't taken Alanna..."
"She died here, didn't she?" Caitlin asked sharply.
"I don't know where she died," I whispered. "The police said she'd already been dead for a few hours when she was dumped on the beach. They never found where she'd been killed."
"The bloodstains here aren't mine. I was near the door when the bitch cut me – tied up too tightly to move this far. They killed her here. She must've bled out before they dumped her body on the beach so it'd be found. Here, no one would have found her." Caitlin's voice sounded so clinical, it was scary.
My feet moved on autopilot, carrying me to her side. I needed to see her gory find for myself. I stumbled over the rubble littered across the floor, almost falling. I managed to right myself before I face-planted, but the torch flew out of my hands and smashed against the brick wall. The light died, leaving only the little key-ring torch in Caitlin's hand.
She held out her other hand to me, keeping her torch beam steady on the dark streaks on the floor. My fingers clasped hers for strength as I looked down at my sister's last, live resting place. A glint caught my eye and I dropped to my knees, scrabbling in the dust. Half hidden beneath a broken brick was a twisted scrap of silver. I blew the dust off it and held it up to Caitlin's torch.
The tiny, red crystal in Alanna's crushed signet ring winked at me like the eye of some sort of demon.
"Oh God." I barely managed to get the words out. My fingers formed a fist around the precious piece of silver, as if by holding it tightly I could hold back the tears threatening to spill from my eyes. I didn't want Caitlin to see me cry.
I rushed across the room, stubbing my toes on bricks, but I didn't stop. Taking the rough steps two at a time, I burst into the bush at the surface, breathing hard. The sun had well and truly set and clouds hid the moon – I couldn't even see the stars. I could see the shadowy bulk of the house and that's what I staggered towards, even as tears blurred my vision and tree roots tried to trip me.
I blundered through a prickly bush and plunged on, but the ground vanished beneath my feet and I fell. I heard the crack before I felt it – after that, all I could hear was my own agonised voice, swearing loud enough to wake the dead.
FIFTY-TWO
My vision was hazy, so it took me a minute to realise that Caitlin was close enough for her torch beam to illuminate me. I was sprawled across some rusted, corrugated iron in the bottom of a circular pit. My right leg had snapped over the edge of the brick surround – it looked like I had an extra knee between the first and my ankle. Fuck, it hurt.
"Nathan. Nathan!" Caitlin shouted. She stood on the lip of the hole, staring at me. I wondered how long she'd been calling me.
"I can't get up," I told her. "It's broken." I waved limply at my double-jointed leg. A dark stain started seeping through my jeans, much like the bloodstains in the bunker. The torchlight stole the colour and turned my blood to black.
"It's all right, Nathan. I'm going to help you," she said calmly, placing the torch carefully on top of the bricks. She sat on the edge, lowering herself to the ground beside me. Waist deep in the pit, she edged around the rusted iron to reach me.
"Don't," I groaned as her light touch sent pain shooting up my leg.
"We have to get you to hospital. I should splint this, though, before we can move you," her soothing voice continued as if I hadn't said a word.
I fumbled in my pocket for my phone. My hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped it. "Here. Call for help. You can't lift me out by yourself. Don't...please don't leave me here."
She took the phone from my fingers and dialled 000. I heard her coolly request an ambulance, then state the address and say she'd wait for them by the house to guide the paramedics to where I'd fallen into a disused water tank. She ended the call and handed the phone back to me.
Her lips touched my forehead. "I'm going back up to the house for the first aid kit in the car, and to see if I can find something to use for a splint."
"No...Caitlin, PLEASE. Don't leave me here alone in the dark," I begged. Like I did to her, alone in the bunker in the dark as they hurt her. God, talk about ironic. I deserved to be left here to die. She wouldn't even need to shoot me.
"I'll be right back, Nathan. You hold that phone, in case they call for directions." She hoisted herself easily onto the lip of the bricks, her boots level with my face for a moment before they swung up and out of sight.
"Please!" I called after her, but I'm not sure if she heard. The crunch of her footsteps faded into the dark as my phone's backlit screen went black. She deserved her revenge, leaving me to rot in this hidden hole. Fuck, if she wanted me dead, she should stab me like she did Simon, or shoot me the way she slaughtered Laura. Fuck suicide. Fuck justice. I wasn't going to curl up and die in the dark. If she could climb out of this hole, so could I.
I stretched my arms up, hooking my fingers around the bricks so I could haul myself upright onto my good leg. I paused to swear as the pain almost made me pass out. This hurt worse than being shot, and watching my foot dangle limply was making me queasy.
I swung around, grunting as my bad leg gave another twinge. I wrapped my hands around the trunk of that shrub that dropped me into this mess and heaved until my hips rested on the top layer of bricks. Panting, I paused for a moment before I used all my strength to pull again. Stretched out on the sand, I could hear my breath whistling as I inhaled. If I had to crawl the whole way, I had to get to the house. Or, failing that, the driveway up to the road. That's where there'd be an ambulance and help.
I dug my fingers into the pale sand, dragging my body behind me. I let out a steady stream of swearing so that anyone nearby wo
uld hear me and, hopefully, help me. My vision blurred, but I could see the dark house and that's where I was headed.
A bolt of agony lanced through my leg and I yelped, barely recognising the voice as my own. I looked back, holding my phone out to light up the problem. My dangling foot was caught on a tree root. Shuffling back through the sand, it took me a few panicked minutes to free myself before I could start moving forward again.
It felt like I'd been crawling forever. Fuck, maybe I would be crawling forever – for the rest of it I had left, anyway.
Caitlin wasn't coming back. She'd left me to the fate I deserved. How many times had I headed through the dark to the bunker and not stumbled into the treacherous pit? She didn't need me any more and karma had come back to bite my arse, big time. She'd just been biding her time as I got complacent.
I paused to rest, gasping for breath. My vision was starting to dim. I couldn't see the house.
The last thing I saw before everything faded to black was an exquisitely small boot. It had to be a hallucination, because there wasn't enough light to see Caitlin's boot in anything but my imagination.
FIFTY-THREE
"He's awake. Someone go get Dr Miller."
I blinked and the light blinded me. I had a hangover from hell and I couldn’t even remember what I'd drunk. And why did my leg hurt so much?
Oh shit – whatever I'd drunk wasn't going to stay drunk. A vomit bag appeared in front of my face and I heaved, coughed and spluttered until all I brought up was bile. Maybe I hadn't had that much to drink after all. Or maybe they'd pumped my stomach while I was unconscious and this was just...
"Morphine withdrawal really sucks, but you got the good stuff, what with your broken leg and all." This time, I recognised that the voice had an owner – a grinning one, even though the orderly was holding a bag of vomit in one hand. "I'll just get rid of this and I'll be right back with something to wash the taste out of your mouth. You've just missed the lunch trolley, but I think the ladies will make an exception." He darted out of the room, his tied-back dreadlocks swaying like tentacles behind him.
Afterlife of Alanna Miller Page 16
