Murrook Farm (Sam & Jody Series Book 2)

by Lois Kay

  “Like I’ll tell you,” Yarra snorted. “It was pathetic and one of the biggest disappointments in all my sixteen years back then. I had expected it to be romantic and something that would change my world, but instead it was unemotional. I didn’t feel a thing. All I wanted to do was wipe my mouth and run off. And I did,” she added with a laugh, showing her even, white teeth.

  “No feelings, huh?” Fiona smiled, appreciating Yarra’s honesty.

  “Nope, no positive ones anyway.”

  “Jody and Sam kiss without even touching,” Alice mused with something close to awe in her voice. “The way they look at each other is so…loving. I’ve never seen two people radiate so much devotion. I…it’s nice to watch them sometimes. And it’s cool they don’t seem to be bothered when other people are around.”

  “And, why should they?” Yarra asked. “Their attitude is the right one; if people have a problem with it, they shouldn’t watch.”

  Both Yarra and Fiona saw Alice tense, and the blond teenager nervously plucked the bedding they were sitting on. When she started talking her voice was soft and filled with sadness.

  “Martin used to make fun of people like Sam and Jody. He—,” she swallowed hard and felt a blush creep up her cheeks. “He called them ‘sickos and said they should throw them in the ocean with the sharks, so nobody would have to be bothered with a funeral. When…when Mom once told him not to say things like that in front of Dean and me, he just laughed. But his eyes were cold.” Alice shivered at the memory. “The next day Mom had split lip and a black eye. She told us she had bumped her head against the door, but I knew Martin had hit her.” Alice took a deep breath and raised her head. Her face was pale, and she had a faraway look in her eyes. “He hates gay people. He always said that if Dean or I ended up gay, he would beat the crap out of us and then skin us alive. I had a friend in school whose sister was a lesbian, and when he found out, he went crazy. He told me never to see her again because he didn’t want her to corrupt me.” Alice let out a short, humorless laugh. “He threatened to take me downtown in the middle of the night and leave me with some drunken skinheads, so they could, you know, teach me some lessons. I was only eleven then. My mom didn’t know about his threats, and I was afraid to tell her because I knew if she said anything to him, he would beat her up again. But one day he had me cornered in the kitchen, using me as a punching bag because I had told him he was not my father and I didn’t have to listen to him.”

  Alice was not aware of the tears that were rolling down her cheeks, she was completely absorbed by the painful memories that gradually surfaced. Yarra had put a comforting hand on her arm, and without thinking, Alice grabbed it and held it tight, somehow finding strength in the presence of her friend.

  “Mom came home from work early that day, and she caught him beating me. She jumped in between him and me and pushed him away. He was so angry I was afraid he would kill her, but he turned around and walked away. That night we stayed with friends. He eventually left. But then he came back again and killed Mom and Dean. He tried to kill me as well,” she ended in a whisper. “It scared me to death when I saw him on that tape from the police station. He scares me.”

  Alice was visibly shaking now, and after exchanging a worried look with Fiona, Yarra did the only thing she could think of to comfort her friend. She scooted closer to Alice and wrapped her free arm around a pair of slender shoulders. Even through the fabric of her t-shirt, she could feel how cold Alice was, and she pulled her a little closer.

  Fiona, clearly remembering the state Alice had been in that morning, jumped off the bed to pull a blanket out of a closet and quickly walked back and draped it around Alice’s body.

  “Thanks, Fi,” Yarra smiled at her friend, who had taken a seat on the other side of Alice, gently rubbing the blonde’s back.

  “We won’t let him near you again, Alice,” Fiona promised in a soothing tone. “Sam and Trishia will make sure of that.”

  The combined warmth of the blanket, Fiona’s hand on her back and Yarra’s close presence gradually helped Alice relax, and after taking a few deep breaths, she felt her self-control slip back into place. But the cocoon of warmth she was enveloped in was too comforting to let go off, and with a sigh she raised her head, noticing a pair of concerned brown eyes observing her carefully.

  “Are you okay?” Yarra asked.

  Alice nodded and squeezed the hand that was still holding hers. “Yes, I feel better now, thanks. I…it’s all those memories coming back, I…it’s hard. I almost lost it again. Sorry,” she apologized.

  “No need for that,” Yarra gently rebuked her. “We understand. Don’t we Fi?”

  “Yup, we sure do. Besides, we’re your friends, Alice. You don’t have to feel embarrassed or apologize.” Fiona gently shook Alice and winked at Yarra. “If you do, that means I’ll have to do that too, and I’d be apologizing all day long.”

  Alice smiled through her tears, grateful for Fiona’s silly comments. She already knew she could always count on the youngest McDonnell sister to lighten the mood when things became too intense.

  “I think the day I met your mom has been one of the luckiest days in my life,” Alice confessed, using the back of her hand to wipe away the tears that stained her cheeks.

  “Of course,” Fiona answered with audible pride. “She is my mom, she’s the best.”

  “Excuse me, I think that would be mine,” Yarra teased, happy to see the spark return in Alice’s eyes.

  “Sorry, C.J., but Alice has not met your mom yet, so she can’t compare. However, I have to admit that your mom is a great lady as well, she has to be, seeing she puts up with you, so I guess we should call it a tie.”

  “Very generous of you, Fiona,” Yarra chuckled. “Thank you.”

  “You are most welcome. I aim to please,” Fiona answered, making Yarra and Alice laugh. “Alright, lovely ladies, what shall we do next? We have a few hours to kill before we can stuff ourselves with the delicious creations The Reef’s kitchen is famous for, so, we could watch another movie, or play some games, or just sit and talk or drive Lucy nuts. Or something else. I am open to suggestions.”

  Yarra cast a look at the sparkling green eyes of her friend and rolled her eyes at her. “You do behave like tonight’s entertainment,” she snorted. “I don’t care what we’ll do, as long as I don’t have to paint your nails or dye your hair.”

  “No chance of that,” Fiona grinned. “I bite my nails, and I like my hair the way it is, thank you very much. What about you, Alice?”

  “I could use a haircut,” Alice mumbled. “And maybe even a different color.”

  Yarra saw Fiona’s eyes light up and she let out a groan. She could tell by the expression on her friend’s face that she had come up with something to do.

  “Did you two girls know that this respected establishment has a beauty salon?”

  Yarra looked up at Fiona and frowned. “We’re not supposed to leave this floor, Fi, in case you have forgotten that insignificant piece of information.”

  “I know,” Fiona answered cheerfully. “But it’s just a matter of Mohammed and the mountain. Right? I’m sure Jody wouldn’t have a problem convincing Jane to bring her stuff up here and give Alice a makeover.”

  “I don’t need a makeover,” Alice answered quickly, jerking upright.

  “No, but you do need a haircut,” Fiona replied, walking toward the door. “And I think that’s an excellent activity to work up an appetite. I’ll ask Jody.”

  Before opening the door, she cast a look over her shoulder and noticed that Yarra and Alice were still sitting close together, apparently not aware they were still holding hands. With a huge grin and a little wave, she stepped out of the room, leaving an amused Yarra and worried looking Alice behind.

  *

  “Well, that was interesting,” Trishia sighed, putting down the phone and turning to face Sam and Peter, who were both keeping an eye on the monitors. The tension in the office was palpable. Trishia leaned her hip aga
inst the desk and rubbed her tired eyes. They were burning and felt gritty. She was sure she could sleep for a week but knew she couldn’t give her body the rest it was craving. She needed to be alert. Thankfully, the conversation she just had with Inspector Wong had her adrenaline pumping again, but Trishia knew that once its effect wore off, she would feel even more drained.

  “They took Martin’s stuff to the station and Phil had a look at his computer. Phil Kanides is one of our police officers, and he has a degree in computer forensics,” she explained to Sam. “It appears that our dear ex-coworker, soon to be an inmate, has an unhealthy interest in beach cams. He saved a lot of footage on his computer, no doubt to study them after he came home from work. He used facial recognition software to find Alice. Oh, and Phil did find images that were taken in Wentworth Park, so there must be cameras there. Alice said she sometimes slept there because it felt safer to be around other people. I wouldn’t be surprised if Phil digs up images of Alice at that same park.” Trishia rubbed her neck. “The Inspector and Phil came across a clip of a girl who resembles one of the victims. They studied it carefully and guess what? Martin forgot to erase the part where he visits that same beach, and he can be seen chatting to the girl. It wouldn’t surprise me if they found even more compromising evidence of his involvement.”

  “Damn, Trish! You don’t think he would have been holding on to that footage like they were trophies?” Peter asked with evident disgust.

  “That is what serial killers often do, Pete,” Trishia sighed. “Although I’ve never heard of anything like this before.”

  Sam shook her head and tried to ignore the queasy feeling in her stomach. She knew there were people like Martin Coles but having them enter your life was more than a little unsettling. “It’s hard to understand that this bastard worked as a police officer,” she said. “It amazes me that he was able to do his job and nobody noticed what a nutcase he is.”

  “I’ve been telling myself that a thousand times already, Sam,” Trishia answered somberly. “I can’t believe he got away with what he did and we didn’t know.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up, Trish,” Peter said. “You said yourself that he is very smart. He knows how things work and obviously, he knew exactly how to cover his tracks. Besides, from what I’ve learned about him so far, he doesn’t stick around for long. Within the last couple of years, he’s moved from Perth to Sydney to here. He had all of us fooled.”

  “I guess you’re right. But that only makes me want to nail his ass even more,” Trishia almost spat. She was furious about the fact that a person who was supposed to uphold the law and help people feel safe, would abuse his position in such a horrible way.

  “Make sure we catch him alive, Trish,” Peter growled. “I want to see him suffer.”

  “Amen to that,” Sam agreed, suddenly jerking upright when from the corner of her eye she noticed a movement on one of the monitors. “Someone’s coming up the road.” Her voice was tense.

  Immediately, Trishia and Peter were standing behind her, their eyes glued to the screen in front of them, where they could see a car slowly making its way up the hill.

  “Anyone you know, Sam?” Trishia calmly asked.

  Sam narrowed her eyes and focused on the approaching vehicle. She shook her head, feeling the adrenaline surge through her body. “No,” she answered. “It’s an unfamiliar car.”

  Three heads simultaneously moved to the next monitor when the car had turned a corner and would enter the field of vision of the next camera. The images were remarkably clear, but no matter how hard they tried, the face of the driver was not recognizable, due to the reflection of the bright sky off the windshield.

  Trishia grabbed her cell phone, and speed dialed a number. She brought the phone to her ear, never once taking her eyes off the monitor. “Allen, Trishia Waters,” she made herself known to the person who answered her call. “I need an ID on a car. It’s a New South Wales plate, LNT 264… Yes, I’ll hold.” Trishia touched the gun that was resting against her hip, and memories of a banana plantation on a hot summer’s day forced their way into her conscious mind. She winced when she remembered the loud bang of her gun and how the massive body of Steven Hayes had crashed onto the ground where his blood had mixed with the dust on the hot, cracked dirt. Trishia swallowed hard and tried to focus on the car that was crawling up the road toward the house. When the person on the other side of the connection started talking, she quickly jotted down some information on a piece of paper. “Okay, got it. Thanks, Allen.”

  She clipped the cell phone back on her waistband. With a steady hand, she pulled her gun out of its leather confinement and released the safety hatch. When he heard the familiar click, Peter looked up, and one glance at Trishia’s face told him everything he needed to know. He drew his weapon and copied her actions.

  “That car belongs to Mr. and Mrs. Taylor, an elderly couple. This morning a police officer confiscated the car with the promise to return it as soon as possible. But he never did. It’s reported stolen, and the description of the police officer who took their car fits Martin Coles. They said his hair was blond, but the rest of it fits. He must have dyed it.” Trishia glanced aside and noticed Sam’s tense features. “You might want to call Kurt inside the house, Sam,” she warned. “I hope to do this without bloodshed, and I don’t want to see him hurt.”

  Without saying a word, Sam got to her feet and quickly walked toward the kitchen, where she knew Kurt would be lying outside the door, on the veranda. She opened the door and softly whistled, making the German Shepherd jump up and walk toward her. “Come here, boy,” she said, hearing the slight tremble in her own voice. “Good boy, come inside, Kurt.”

  The dog obediently followed her into the kitchen and Sam took him to the living room where she directed him to the corner furthest away from the kitchen and hallway. “Stay, Kurt,” she commanded. She knelt in front of him and scratched him behind his ears, feeling a mixture of fear and relief. Alice, Jody and the rest of her family were safely at The Reef. Martin Coles was on his way up to the house, and very soon he would no longer be a threat to anyone ever again. “Please, let no one get hurt,” Sam whispered, before rising to her full height again and purposefully striding back to her office, where Trishia and Peter were standing close to the door, still looking at the images on the monitor.

  “I called the station,” Trishia said, not taking her eyes off the screen. “There are three units on their way now.”

  Sam nodded and nervously moistened her dry lips. The sight of Trishia and Peter with their guns drawn reminded her of her close call with death when Steven Hayes was about to end her life with a bullet. “Be careful, Trish,” she said softly. “I want to dance at your wedding.”

  A small smile relaxed Trishia’s face, and she cast a quick glance at Sam, who looked at her with a mixture of worry and trust. “And you shall,” she answered with confidence. “There have been some delightful developments in that department, and I’ll tell you all about that later,” she promised.

  Sam smiled. “I’ll hold you to that, my friend.”

  Trishia winked and sent Sam a smile before focusing on the monitor again. The car had stopped in front of the house and was not entirely visible on the screen. But they could see a door open, and somebody exited. It was a man, wearing glasses and a wide-rimmed Akubra hat that concealed his face. He walked toward the veranda, and they could hear heavy footsteps on the floorboards. For a moment, it was dead silent. The tension in the room was so thick, it was almost palpable. A loud knock on the door shattered the silence, and both Trishia and Peter tightened their grip on their guns.

  Trishia shook her head. This is too easy. “Okay, Peter,” she whispered. “Showtime.”

  Sam’s heart was pounding so fast her ears were buzzing. The knock on the door had made her jump, and she wiped her sweaty palms on her shorts. Trishia had ordered her to stay inside the office, and Sam cursed under her breath. Peter and Trishia were well-trained and experienced, they knew
what they were doing, but Sam felt frustrated and helpless. She knew she would be an easy target for anyone with a gun and bad intentions. Trishia only wanted her to be safe and out of harm’s way, but still, Sam felt like there had to be something she could do to help. Her ears picked up the sound of a growling Kurt, and she hoped the young dog would heed the command she had given him to remain where he was, safely out of sight in the living room. Sam stepped closer to the door and wished she could peek around the corner. She would have to rely on her hearing to find out what was going on in the kitchen. Her thoughts went to Jody and Lucy and how the sisters were worried about her and Trishia. If anything happened to Trishia, Lucy would be devastated. Sam clenched her hands into fists and suppressed the urge to leave the office. Waiting to find out what was happening was the worst feeling.

  Trishia and Peter were both standing behind the closed door, and as a senior officer, Trishia was in charge. Peter gritted his teeth when he saw that she was exactly going to do what he had been afraid of. She motioned for him to yank open the door, in the hope that the element of surprise would be enough to throw Martin Coles off balance for a few seconds so they would have the upper hand. Peter knew that he had to take a few steps back after opening the door which would briefly expose Trishia, leaving her in the line of fire.

  Swallowing hard Trishia motioned for Peter to open the door on the count of three. He nodded, and she held up her left hand silently counting down. Three, two, one.

  With adrenaline flooding his system, Peter yanked the door open, jumped back to avoid smashing into it, immediately released the doorknob and stepped around the now open door.

  In the meantime, Trishia had used one of her legs to kick open the screen door that gave away with a loud crack. Two hinges broke off and clattered to the wood floor.

  “Police! Show me your hands!” Peter bellowed, while Trishia took two steps forward, grabbed a muscular arm and twisted it behind the man’s back, making him howl in pain. Standing behind him she kicked his legs apart and forced him to the ground, placing her knee against his back. His hat tumbled to the ground.