An engine revved, its throaty roar filling the air.
He spun round, searching in all directions, trying to pinpoint his pursuers.
The hillside exploded with light as headlight beams criss-crossed the ground in front of him. Spotlights swept the mist, seeking him out.
They’d split up, trying to catch him in a classic pincer movement.
He turned and ran.
Behind him, he heard a shout, and then the vehicle changed gear and began its pursuit.
He weaved across the rugged hillside, grabbing tree branches and exposed rocks to work his way higher, away from the vehicle.
His leg muscles aching from the swift ascent, he sucked in air as he reached the summit.
He hauled himself over the edge, and saw the lights of the small town in the distance where, only three days ago, he’d ventured into the camping store for supplies. Through the gloom, the sickly orange glow of halogen streetlights bobbed in and out of view between swaying trees as the prevailing wind lashed the surrounding countryside.
He groaned – it was too far.
He checked over his shoulder.
Below, the pursuit vehicle steadily moved across the ridge, gaining on him, the whine of its engine carrying over the wind as it climbed towards him, and then stalled.
Kyle turned his attention back to the valley below. He was running out of time. He could only hope that John had made it to the highway, and that the creek hadn’t burst its banks before he’d made it into town.
He squinted at the road leading from the town up to the ridge, where it joined the main highway. No traffic moved except for a single headlight beam, and he frowned, wondering if the run-off from the surrounding water catchment had already burst the creek’s banks and blocked the road.
A faint light towards the bottom of the ridge caught his eye, and he shielded his eyes from the rain and squinted. In the next flash of lightning that shot across the valley he saw a low-set building with some sort of canopy at the front.
He wracked his memory until he remembered a run-down truck stop, a ‘for sale’ sign across its front window.
Adrenalin surged through his body as he realised he’d have to make a run for it and pray the building still had a working telephone.
The tree trunk next to him exploded a split second before he heard the gunshot reverberate in his ears.
He threw himself to the ground and began to crawl away on his elbows and knees, keeping his head down.
The vehicle’s engine roared to life again, the headlights seeking him out. He scrambled up and slid down the ridge towards the valley, ducking behind trees and boulders.
He tripped and curled up as he fell, gritting his teeth as sharp stones dug into his back before he slowed to a stop. He eased himself up onto all fours and lifted his head.
The vehicle crested the ridge above him before it braked to a standstill. The driver’s door swung open, and a figure stepped out into the rain.
Kyle groaned, his lungs aching from the exertion, and watched, helpless, while the figure leaned into the cab of the four-wheel drive and emerged, holding a rifle.
‘You should’ve stayed away,’ yelled the figure. ‘You should’ve minded your own damn business.’
‘I was,’ he murmured.
He jumped sideways as the rifle bucked once in the figure’s hands, and then everything went black.
2
‘Nina, let me do that – you’re going to fall.’
‘I’ll be okay. Keep your foot on the ladder and stop staring at my backside.’
‘It’s hard not to. It’s right in my face.’
‘Hold onto the ladder and keep your eyes lowered, Ross.’
She ignored the laugh below her, the rich tones filling the air. Instead, she slid the tarpaulin over the last of the loose tin panels, adjusted her balance on the ladder, and fired the nail-gun, sealing the plastic sheeting into place.
‘Okay, we’re all done on this side.’
She glanced behind. Already, the wind was picking up, shaking the corn stalks in the fenced-off field on the opposite side of the road.
She changed her grip on the nail-gun and then descended the length of the ladder. As she reached the bottom, Ross stood aside, one hand gripping the frame. She smiled up at him. ‘See, I’m quite capable.’
‘Oh, I know that.’ He pushed his hat back on his head, his green eyes sparkling. ‘But I’ll bet this side comes unstuck the moment that storm hits, whereas the other side will be fine.’ He grinned. ‘That’ll be the side I sorted out, of course.’
He laughed and took a step back as Nina aimed a playful punch at his arm. ‘Too slow, Nina O’Brien. Way too slow.’
Nina ran a hand through her hair and raised her gaze to the roof. ‘Seriously, Ross – do you think it’ll be okay?’
‘Time will tell. You’re doing all you can.’ He bent and gathered up the pile of folded plastic sheets. ‘Come on, one more to do.’ He snatched the nail-gun from her hand and passed her the last tarpaulin. ‘And I’ll go up the ladder this time.’ He lowered the ladder and swung it over his shoulder.
The sound of a hammer against wood echoed off the nearby accommodation block.
Nina and Ross had been joined half an hour ago by Phil Allison. A long-distance truck driver, Phil had dropped off a delivery in town and had decided to call it quits for the day after hearing about a landslide that had blocked the highway leading out of the valley and through the hills towards the city. A regular customer of Nina’s father’s, Phil had been only too happy to stop and help in return for free overnight accommodation.
Now, he was helping them prepare the property for the worst, boarding up windows on the other side of the truck stop and removing anything that could be whipped up by the wind and cause damage.
As the storm had progressed southwards towards Mistake Creek, it had swelled rivers and streams, water-logging the topsoil until it weakened and collapsed, pulling trees and scrubby undergrowth with it.
As Nina walked, she took in the state of the building, the paint peeling, and the accommodation block that would need tidying up – if the property didn’t get ravaged by the incoming storm. A groan escaped her lips.
‘Are you okay?’ asked Ross, concern creasing his brow.
‘I keep seeing more stuff that needs sorting out before I can sell this place. It’s never-ending.’
‘On the plus side, that means you stay longer.’
‘Maybe,’ said Nina. ‘I need to concentrate on finding a new job and getting Dad’s treatment sorted out first.’
Ross started walking again. ‘Well, you’re better off out of the city anyway. You could do with a bit of country air to put some colour in your face. You look as pale as a vampire.’
‘Some would say pale and interesting, you know.’
‘Is that right? What – just after they order a chai latte or whatever?’
Nina shook her head as she followed him. He still insisted on wearing the battered brown felt hat her father had given him the last year he and Nina were in school together, although its edges were frayed, the shape only just held together by the contours of his head.
She’d told him three days ago when she’d first arrived that her trip here had to be brief. Her job loss had been a blow, and she had to find a new employer fast. She’d calculated that her meagre savings gave her enough time to make any necessary repairs to the truck stop, put it on the market, and cross her fingers that it sold quickly so that she could pay her father’s medical bills.
She let her gaze drift to the back of Ross’s head. He’d changed a lot since she’d left. Hell, they’d both changed a lot. In Ross’s case, the lanky awkward farmer’s son had gone. In his place stood a man who seemed strong, capable, and definitely good-looking.
Ross dropped the tarpaulin and the nail-gun on the ground before swinging the ladder off his shoulder. Once he had set it straight on the ground, he handed the nail-gun to Nina.
‘Okay, pass that and a ta
rp up when I get to the top.’ He looked over her head. ‘That storm’s moving fast.’
‘Will your place be okay?’
He nodded. ‘Dad’s got Tim, and a couple of the hired hands stayed to help them before they headed home.’ He raised his gaze. ‘And our roof is in a lot better condition than yours, it has to be said.’
Nina held onto the sides of the ladder as he climbed, the frame swaying under his weight. She stood on tiptoe, passed him the nail-gun, and then let her mind wander as he worked, the punch of the steel tacks beating a rhythm to her thoughts.
The Flanagan property was a twenty-minute drive from where she stood. Growing up, Ross and his younger brother Tim were the nearest neighbours to her home, often saving a space for her on the school bus as it belched fumes and idled at the now-derelict bus stop opposite the truck stop, the driver impatient as she’d hurried towards it, before continuing its onward journey into the town a further eight miles up the road.
As soon as he’d heard the storm warning on the radio, Ross had driven over to her father’s truck stop, his pick-up truck laden with wooden planks and spare tarpaulins. They’d spent the morning boarding up the large floor-to-ceiling windows, moving the old plastic outdoor furniture into one of the dilapidated storage sheds behind the property, and removing anything that could become a missile in the height of the storm.
Nina lifted her face and inhaled. The tang of ozone filled her senses as a low rumble of thunder resonated in the distance. She jumped at the sound of Phil’s voice breaking into her reverie.
‘You’ve got plenty of fuel for the generator, right?’
She frowned and bit her lip. ‘I checked batteries, torches, candles, and matches. I didn’t see any fuel cans.’
Ross snorted. ‘It’d be kind of ironic if the only truck stop for miles ran out of petrol for its own generator.’
‘Dad hasn’t sold petrol for weeks, Ross – you know that.’
‘Yeah. Sorry.’
None of them mentioned the incident that had put paid to the possibility of her father continuing to run the business – and nearly killed him in the process.
Nina moved to one side as a swathe of plastic rippled above her head. ‘You okay up there?’
‘Almost done.’
Nina held the ladder while it wobbled under Ross’s weight. She took a step back as he joined her at ground level.
Wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead, he peered up at the black clouds tumbling towards them. ‘We should have a final walk around to make sure we’ve got everything covered.’
Phil began to pick up the leftover planks of wood they’d been using to board up the windows around the building.
‘I’ll get these stowed away in the barn,’ he said. ‘Last thing you need is the wind getting hold of them.’
‘Great, thanks. Put a couple by the back door, though, in case we need to do running repairs.’
Nina led Ross back to the front of the property. The two fuel bowsers stood sentinel under a steel-framed canopy, dust obliterating the faded logos that covered their surfaces. The oil company had sent out a mechanic and driver to remove the hoses and drain the tanks within days of her father’s enforced decision to close the business. At the thought of the tanker truck pulling out of the dirt courtyard and onto the main road for the last time, she fought back tears.
Ross had told her yesterday that he’d driven across to be with her father at that time. The older man had scowled and grumbled about the mess the mechanic had made of the courtyard and the paltry sum of money the oil company had sent him for the recovered fuel. Afterwards, he’d sat in the old wooden rocking chair next to the front door, lost in thought, only raising a hand in farewell when Ross’s vehicle pulled away.
Nina shook her head, the reality of selling the place where she’d grown up hitting her harder than she liked to admit. Although she knew it wasn’t a home like some people’s, it had been one to her.
‘Hey.’
The soft tones of Ross’s voice interrupted her thoughts. She wiped her fingers across her eyes. ‘I’m okay, really, I am.’
He reached out and rubbed her arm. ‘It was always going to be tough coming back here, Nina.’
‘Yeah.’
She sniffed and shifted the weight of the tools in her arms. ‘Come on – before I feel the need to aim that nail-gun at something.’
Ross grinned. ‘Atta girl.’
Nina looked up as the first raindrops hit the tin roof, wet splashes striking the dirt unprotected by the building’s canopy. She blinked as forked lightning lit up the furthest edge of the weather front, and the rain began to fall in earnest.
With the truck stop bordered by a creek bed six miles away in the direction of town and only the one paved road twisting and narrow in the other direction now blocked by a landslide, she could be stranded for a number of days.
‘Remind me to check the cupboards for food supplies,’ she said as they hurried to shelter under the canopy. ‘And water.’
‘Right. Although I don’t think you’re going to have time to get to town and back for supplies now. If you’re worried, we could always drive over to my place in the morning. Dad and Tim would love to see you.’
The rain fell harder, gathering momentum as thunder shook the hills surrounding the property, pelting the fibreglass roof over their heads.
‘That’d be nice.’ Nina rubbed her hands over her eyes to clear the water that was running through her hair and onto her face, before squinting through the deluge of rain that cast a mist through the valley. She glanced over her shoulder and frowned. ‘Hey – look at that.’
She pointed along the road behind, its winding path leading back along the valley towards the ridge in the distance. A single headlight beam shone through the gloom.
Ross held onto his hat as the wind tried to lift it off his head. ‘Someone’s in a hurry, aren’t they?’ He hefted the ladder onto his shoulder. ‘I’m going to get this put away and make sure Phil’s got everything else sorted out.’
‘Okay,’ said Nina as he walked away, before she slipped a spare elastic band off her wrist and tied her long black strands into a loose ponytail.
She watched the motorbike as it drew level with the truck stop, the engine now audible over the onslaught of rain, and then it shot past, heading towards town, its two passengers hunkered low in their seats.
Ross reappeared and joined her under the shelter of the canopy, his shirt soaked, water dripping from his hat.
Nina noticed how his wet shirt clung to his chest before clearing her throat, and then her attention was caught by a flash of lightning as it zig-zagged across the purple clouds. Long arching trails of blinding white light flickered against the darkening sky. A thick curtain of rain blanketed her view of the ridgeline as it descended towards the valley.
A gust of wind blew under the canopy, and Nina rocked on her feet to keep her balance. ‘I think we’d better move inside.’
‘Good idea.’
She led the way into the shop area of the truck stop. Empty shelves lined the walls, and an old threadbare sofa nestled in a space between them where she and Ross had pulled it from the living area. She’d managed to sell the commercial refrigerators last week to an interstate business. The owner had haggled over the price with her until she’d simply given in, too exhausted to argue with the man.
A counter encircled one back corner of the room, where her father had set up the till and the coffee-making facilities. In later years, he’d acquired a liquor licence to sell beer and spirits, but only once the authorities had sent a representative out to check that he had accommodation facilities on site.
She crossed the tiled floor, working through lists in her head. What to sell, what needed to be cleaned, and what needed to be repaired – or thrown into the huge trash bin outside that was already overflowing under a tarpaulin.
Ross and Phil flicked switches on panels lining the walls, and the overhead lights came on, illuminating the space in a dull yell
ow hue.
Bright light flashed through the front door, a loud rumble shaking the building.
Now inside, they could hear the radio, the excited tones of the announcer warning about the landslide, heavy rain, and flash flooding of the creek caused by run-off from higher areas already soaked by the deluge, before static hissed and spat through the airwaves, obliterating his voice.
Ross threw his hat onto the counter and ruffled his hair before peeling his shirt off and hanging it over a chair.
She turned away. He hadn’t said anything yet, but she wondered how Ross felt about her being back after so many years. Since her arrival, they’d been so busy making lists and working through what needed to be done before the truck stop was put up for sale, they’d had no time to talk properly.
With the storm fast approaching, and Phil’s presence, it was unlikely they’d get that chance any time soon.
Nina moved to the window next to the front door and peered through the gaps in the wooden boards she and Ross had finished nailing into place earlier that afternoon. The strength of the wind outside buffeted against the glass, and she felt the pulse of its energy through the panes.
She frowned as a light shone through the exposed glass that they’d left to use as a peep-hole.
The two men wandered across to stand with her as the throaty roar of a motorbike engine rumbled to a halt outside.
‘Sounds like we’re going to have more company,’ said Nina, and opened the door.
‘They must’ve decided it was too risky to keep going,’ agreed Phil.
Outside, a woman was dismounting the pillion seat of a large adventure motorbike while a man switched off the engine and removed his helmet.
The woman slipped her helmet off, brushed her fingers through her hair, and hurried towards Nina.
‘Can you help us?’ she said, her voice taut. ‘We were trying to get into town but this weather, it’s just…’
Two FBI thrillers: Before Nightfall and Mistake Creek Page 22
