by Iris Blobel
Sergeant Harris tried so hard to help her, and suddenly she felt guilty for not letting him into her house.
A safe house? Was that her final choice? Staying in a strange house? With other people, none of them familiar to her?
Then, as she was about to agree to his suggestion, Mat popped into her head.
“Actually, I do know someone I could call.”
“Very good.”
A smile pulled at her lips. She met his gaze and decided to unhook the chain.
“Would you like to come in? I’ll give him a call while you’re here.”
“I appreciate that you feel you can trust me, but considering there’s no female officer with me, I’d rather you give him a call while I wait here.”
Running a hand through her hair, she looked past him again. The idea to call Mat and ask him to come seemed as absurd as rejecting the suggestion to stay in a safe house. She didn’t know Mat, except for the couple of hours she’d spent with him having dinner. Yet, she’d met him and talked to him. Most importantly, though, he was Steve’s friend and had been close to twenty years. That fact should outrank the safe house by miles.
After she’d tossed and turned the ups and downs of calling Mat, she grabbed her phone and the little note with Mat’s phone number from the lounge room. With her hands still shaking, or shaking again at the thought she was about to call her new Kiwi friend again…yet not under the circumstances she’d hoped for.
As she waited for the call to connect, she walked back to the front door with the police officer still waiting patiently.
“Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Tiffany—”
Before she was able to finish the sentence, he interrupted her. “Hang up, darling, I’ll call you right back.”
She stared at the phone when she heard the busy dial tone.
“Not available?”
Before she was able to explain the situation, the phone buzzed, and she pushed the green button without delay.
“Hi,” she answered, well aware that Sergeant Harris was listening.
“I was hoping for…”
“Are you able to come over? There’s a situation here, and I don’t want to trouble my brother or Steve, because…well, because of the situation I shouldn’t tell you.”
“Are you all right?” His concern was obvious, and guilt spread through her for involving him after knowing him for a mere few hours.
He must’ve been tired because his accent was a lot more pronounced than earlier in the evening.
And again the question whether she was all right. No, she wasn’t. She was many things — scared, tired, lonely — but not all right. At that moment, all she wanted to do was curl up in her bed and sleep for as long as it took for everything to go away.
The police and their questions.
The guy with the knife.
The ‘list’.
“Tiffany?”
“No,” she answered at last. “I’ve got the police here again…”
“What’s your address?”
She brushed her hand through her hair as she told Mat where she lived.
“The GPS says thirty minutes.”
“That sounds about right.”
He disconnected, and Tiffany looked up at Harris. “Half an hour.”
He nodded. “I’ll wait in the car until he arrives.”
After exhaling a long breath, she said, “Thank you is not enough, but thanks anyway.”
“You’re very welcome.” He was about to turn when he added, “I will need you to come down to the station again for a statement.” And he walked away, not waiting for any reply.
****
When Mat stepped into the hall, he listened to any noises to check whether Steve and Jessica were still awake. When he spotted no light from underneath their bedroom door, he assumed they were asleep already.
Quietly, he dressed and left a note before heading out to the car, hoping his GPS lady would not lead him on another sight-seeing tour.
It took him about twenty minutes to arrive at Tiffany’s. Twenty long minutes, during which he thought about was he was doing. Why he was driving to a woman’s house he hardly knew. Indeed, he had enjoyed their dinner together. Underneath all her insecurities he’d found her witty and clever. He liked that. He found her attractive, not in a sexy way, but in a way that expressed her personality. Was Steve really the only reason he was helping? Did the fact that she’d been linked to the police and a dead man not ring any alarm bells?
As much as he tossed all the thoughts in his head, he kept coming back to his gut feeling that Tiffany wouldn’t be Steve’s friend if she were trouble. Sure, his friend was no saint, but he’d changed since he’d started going out with Jessica. Even more so, since they moved in together.
There had to be a reason he was the one she’d rung and asked for help after only knowing him for less than a day. And hopefully he was about to find out.
He parked, opened the door, but before he was able to get out someone was already standing next to him.
“Sir? I’m Sergeant Harris. May I ask for your name?”
Stunned and somewhat taken aback, Mat slowly stood, his gaze moving between the front door and the man in front of him.
“Got any identification?” Mat asked carefully.
Harris held up his badge.
“I’m Mat Apanui,” Mat replied, as he retrieved his driver’s license from his wallet. “A friend of Tiffany’s.”
The police officer glanced at the license and nodded. “Ms Cahill was in an unfortunate situation tonight where she was assaulted. She rejected the offer to stay in a safe house tonight. Will you be able to stay with her?”
Mat nodded, confused at all the information thrown at him. Unfortunate situation? Assaulted? Again, he gazed over to the door, but it was still closed. Harris must’ve picked up on his thought.
“I got the idea she puts up a front, but seems very scared.”
Mat agreed inwardly. Yes, that’d been his impression as well.
“Thanks, Senior…” He paused, already forgotten about Harris’ rank, less of disrespect, but circumstantial.
“You’re welcome. And thank you for looking after her.”
They shook hands before Mat lifted his hand with the car keys to lock the car.
“I’ll wait until you’re in the house,” Harris added. “I haven’t seen any movements for the last ten minutes. It wouldn’t surprise me if that adrenaline rush has worn off, leaving her tired or even asleep.”
With his thumb up, Mat turned and headed towards the door when his phone buzzed.
Steve.
“Mate, want to bring me up-to-date with why you’re at Tiffany’s? Didn’t I ask you not to mess with her?”
He wasn’t sure what the emotion was that raged within him. Anger at his friend for accusing him of doing something inappropriate? Confirmation that Tiffany was indeed not only a friend, but also a close friend? Worry about what he was about to find or hear?
“Okay, I’ve got no idea what’s happening here, but Tiffany called me about half an hour ago asking for help. There was some talk about not wanting to worry you or Jessica because of a recent situation. So here I am. Not sure why, but I’m here. So are the police.”
“Fuck.”
“Let me get in and talk to her, and you’ll be the first to know the details.”
“Okay,” Steve replied, his voice still full of concern.
“You look after your girl. I’ve got this one.”
He disconnected the call and realised he’d missed a message. It was from Tiffany telling him about the spare keys for the door. Two minutes later, he’d found the keys and opened the door, finding Tiffany asleep on the couch. She must’ve felt safe enough with the police outside to give in to her exhaustion. With some relief to find her settled, he returned to the door to give the police officer another thumbs up before he closed it.
He walked alon
g the hall to the back to find her bedroom, before seeing the stairs for the loft. Once he was upstairs, he looked for a blanket or duvet. It was a small house, but nicely furnished, old with a mix of new. The kitchen was opposite the lounge room, two small bedrooms at the other end of the house with the laundry almost hidden around the corner. He remembered Tiffany telling him that her parents had helped her buy the house to give her the chance to study.
The loft was tidy and decorated in bright colours. Too bright for him, but he knew there was always a rhyme or reason people did things, even if it was intuitively. It seemed Tiffany wanted to escape some darkness. Her mystery stirred his curiosity, and he hoped to find out more about her before he returned home in a couple of days.
He grabbed the blanket on the bed and went back to the lounge room where he placed it carefully over her. Her eyes shot open, gasping for air, and she pushed against his chest. It took her only a small moment, though, to realise it was him and that she was safe, and she calmed herself with a few deep breaths.
“Sorry,” she croaked.
He touched her hands on his chest and sat next to her. “How about you lie down again?”
Despite of what had happened, and he still didn’t know any particulars about it, it must’ve been too much for her because it didn’t take her long to doze off again.
Going back to the bedroom, he grabbed a spare pillow and another blanket and tried to make himself as comfortable as possible in the single seater next to the couch. He’d had worse accommodations, especially in the huts on top of the mountains around Mt. Cook.
He’d just closed his eyes when he heard Tiffany’s voice. “Thank you for coming.”
It was soft and just above a whisper.
“You’re welcome.”
“I’m surprised you came.”
He opened his eyes and looked at her, but she hadn’t moved and her eyes were still closed.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“You don’t know me.”
“That’s true,” he replied and closed his eyes again.
The silence around them wasn’t what he was used to. He was still able to hear cars in the distance and the occasional airplane departing Melbourne airport or coming in to land. Silence outside Fox Glacier meant no noises except the whistle of the trees and the wildlife around.
Tiffany broke the stillness after a very long moment. “His name was Hudson.”
He didn’t reply, giving her the time she needed.
“He used to be in my classes. I thought he was a good guy. I helped him out occasionally when he lagged in his studies.”
She paused, and Mat wondered whether she thought about his presence in her house after knowing her only for a few hours.
Letting out a subtle laugh, she continued. “Well, at least he was nice when I met him. After a few days of hanging out and the occasional afternoons together when I helped him with assignments, we spent a night together. The next day, I found him in his lounge room, all pale with little pearls of sweat on his forehead. I should’ve left then, but I was never that clever.”
Mat flinched at that statement, and he swallowed, trying hard not to reply. She wasn’t finished yet, with her story.
Tiffany went on. “Nothing hurts more than being rejected.”
He nodded, knowing she didn’t see him. Rejection wasn’t something he had to encounter a lot in his life. After all, his upbringing was within a caring family, money no real issue, and women usually were happy to spend time with him. His nod had been more an acknowledgement of her words. And of her pain.
“He wanted money. I told him I didn’t have any. That was when the trouble started. He got angry, throwing tantrums I’d never seen before. I made the mistake of laughing, and that was when he lashed out at me, striking me hard with his fist. I can still remember the noise of my cheekbone breaking. It was horrible. When I saw him about to swing another one, I covered my face, but he didn’t stop.”
His eyes shot open and his heart sank when he heard a sob. Taking a deep breath, he willed himself not to move.
“I’m okay,” she assured him, as she met his gaze. How long had she been looking at him?
“I’m not sure what was worse, the pain or the realisation of how low I had sunk ending up with a drug addict. The blows were mostly aimed at my face. I wasn’t able to focus. My head was dizzy and foggy. In hindsight, raising my hands to block more was out of instinct than anything else.” She shrugged. “It didn’t stop him, though. Another hit, and the next thing I remember, I woke up in hospital.”
He closed his eyes, processing that last sentence and trying not to walk over to take her into his arms, never to let go again. It was hard to find the right words, and he wasn’t sure whether his were anywhere near good enough for what she’d gone through. But he hoped. “Yet, you got up again and seem to be stronger than before.”
A bubble of laughter surfaced from her, and she seemed as surprised as he was. He’d liked the sound, though.
“Stronger might be a tad exaggerated, but I’m getting there. I’m finding ground under my feet one day at a time.”
He opened his eyes and studied her as she stared at the ceiling. Her short hair was a mess, her eyes puffy and red, her skin blotchy, yet he felt his stomach tighten as he recognised those imperfections were what drew him to her.
And now Hudson was dead.
Mat lounged farther back into the seat, trying to piece the puzzle together. He raked a hand through his hair, about to ask about the assault tonight, but when he saw Tiffany’s eyes close and heard a soft snore, he knew he’d have to postpone his question until the morning.
He closed his eyes as well, pondering all the questions in his head. How much danger was she in?
Five
The sun was already up when Tiffany opened her eyes the next morning. It took her a moment to figure out she was in the lounge room, but unfortunately, it didn’t take long for the memories of the previous night to invade her mind. She rubbed her eyes with the balls of her hands and exhaled a long, deep breath.
Then she remembered Mat, and wriggled onto her elbows to look around. She was certain he’d arrived last night and listened to her story about Hudson. When she moved a little farther forward, she wasn’t only able to smell fresh coffee, but also saw a pillow and blanket nicely stacked next to the door.
“Good morning.”
She flinched.
“Apologies, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Mat stepped closer with two cups in his hand. “I hope you don’t mind that I went through your kitchen, but I was desperate for some coffee.” He held a cup towards her. “And apparently you like tea.”
She raised her brows inquiringly.
“Already chatted to Steve.”
A long sigh escaped her as a wave of guilt rushed through her as she thought about her decision to call Mat instead of Steve the previous night. But, in all fairness, she had done it with the best intentions.
“Just a warning, he’s mad with you.”
“With me?” she asked, her voice up a notch, not understanding why.
“Well, you found your voice, ay.” He bit back a little chuckle as he handed her the cup of tea and sat near her feet. “He feels dumped. Not happy that you called me instead of him.”
Worried, and at the same time offended because she had made the decision with the best intentions in mind, she explained, “But I don’t want Jessica to worry.”
His mouth curved into a smile, and his eyes lit with a gleam.
“Not sure what’s so funny.”
The smile spread into a grin. “Women. Jessica is fine. As soon as she heard you were assaulted, she understood. What is it between you two, anyway?”
The question surprised her. Obviously, he knew about the assault, but she couldn’t remember telling him. And why did he ask about Jessica and her? “I suppose no girlfriend wants her man to have a troublemaker as a friend.”
“Are you a troublema
ker?”
She thought about it. Was she? No, she wasn’t, but she’d been relying on Steve a lot over the last twelve months. Whenever she was scared, she’d call him. Whenever she needed advice, she’d call him. But that didn’t make her a troublemaker.
“Let’s say I might have overdone it a little with the aspect of the friendship.”
“But isn’t that what a friendship is all about? Good and bad times?”
She wagged a finger at him. “You’re confusing this with a marriage.”
He laughed, and the sound was wonderful to her ears.
“What did I tell you about the assault?”
“Nothing,” he replied flat.
Eyebrows raised, she asked, “How do you know?”
“Senior something, something Harris.”
She huffed a snort. “I thought they were bound to some confidentiality law as well.”
“That was about all he told me. Like everything else, it’s a piece to a big puzzle with lots of bits missing. What concerns me is that little bruise on your throat.”
Instinctively, she moved her hand there.
“I didn’t have the pleasure of kissing you, yet,” he continued, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So I’m damn sure it wasn’t because of something I did.”
“Yet?” she asked, but as soon as the word had left her lips, she regretted it. “It’s from the knife,” she replied in a haste, hoping to move forward from her embarrassing slipup.
His brows knitted into a frown. “What knife?”
“Okay,” she said with a deep sigh. “Ehrm…When I returned…When I came home…” She exhaled another breath. “When I came home last night I had a stranger attack me, holding a knife to my throat, demanding a list.”
“What list?”
She shrugged. “I have no idea.”
His eyes roamed over her body, searching or appreciating, she wasn’t sure, yet despite herself she blushed, aware how horrible she must look. She tried not to care, because, after all, she’d dealt with a terrifying twelve hours.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?”
