Combatting Fear

by Sandy Vaile

  The decisive tone left no room for argument, and he’d do anything that would lead him to Rowan.

  Micah did a three-point turn and parked the car beside a stand of white pines. He climbed out of the car and met Neve at the open boot.

  “What’s in the bags?”

  She tossed a knapsack at him. “Snacks, drinks, first aid kit, sunscreen. You can put the map in there.” Then she rummaged in a long, black duffle bag and withdrew a hunting knife.

  He balked. “What the hell?”

  She bent, pulled up one pant leg, and strapped the massive knife to her calf.

  “It’s illegal to carry a concealed weapon in Australia,” he said.

  “Yes, but we’re snooping around to find a property owned by an outlaw gang. I’m not going unarmed.”

  “Neve, I’m not comfortable with this on so many levels.”

  Blood thundered over his eardrums. “If I think you’re in any danger, I’m getting you out. We’re not going to fight anyone, certainly not gang members.”

  An unsettling serenity had settled over her. Her actions were deliberate, unhurried. Even her voice was measured. This was a different Neve. Not the kindergarten teacher or Bronwyn’s best friend or the woman who’d made him feel things he never had before. This version of Neve reminded him of her father, and that scared the crap out of him.

  She closed the car boot and finally looked him in the eye. “There are some things I’m willing to compromise on. This isn’t one of them, but I agree that the plan is to look around and get out. I don’t intend to fight anyone. Think of me more as a Girl Scout. I’m prepared for any eventuality.”

  “I take it you know how to use that thing?” Of course she did. He’d seen her wedge a knife into a tree from ten metres.

  Neve nodded. “Tony taught me well. Let’s go.”

  Micah stared after her as she clomped towards the first driveway. After a moment’s hesitation, he jogged to catch up. She might be the one with the training, but Tony would string him up by the balls if anything happened to her.

  “So what’s your plan? You’re just going to march up to every front door along this road and ask if they’re holding Rowan and Chelsea captive?”

  She scowled. “I plan on being a little subtler than that.”

  “You should stand behind me when I knock,” she said as a house came into view.

  “What, so you can protect me with your knife?”

  “No, idiot, because people are less likely to be threatened by a short-arse girl than a hulking bloke.”

  “Oh.” He dropped his eyes to the limestone road surface and kept his mouth shut.

  Neve stepped up to the front door of the red-roofed colonial and knocked hard. She took a step back and waited. After a minute, there was a soft scuffing sound and the door opened. A young blonde woman with dark shadows under her eyes looked them up and down. Neve had been right. The woman’s eyes turned suspicious when she spotted Micah.

  “I don’t want any,” the woman said, already stepping back to close the door.

  A beatific smile lit Neve’s face, but he noticed her foot slide forwards to stop the door.

  “Oh, we’re not selling anything,” she said. “I’m really sorry to bother you, but we’re kind of lost. I don’t suppose you’d have a map of the area?”

  The blonde reassessed Neve, and her face smoothed. “No, but I can draw you something that’ll get you back to a main road. You’re a long way from anything touristy.”

  “We were supposed to go hiking at a place called Scott Creek Conservation Park, but I think we took a wrong turn.”

  “Don’t worry, you’re not too far. I’d invite you in”—she glanced at Micah again—“but I just got my baby to sleep.”

  “Oh, we don’t want to disturb the baby. I have a scrap of paper and a pen right here. It’s so great of you to help us.”

  “Sure thing.” The blonde leant the paper on a wooden shoe cupboard on the porch and started to sketch a map.

  “It’s a lovely area,” Neve commented. “I bet you don’t have to worry about traffic noise.”

  The woman glanced sideways and then kept drawing. “Only the odd tractor or truck.”

  “Do you get many motorcycles this far out?”

  The woman shrugged. “It’s pretty quiet, but there have been a few lately.”

  Micah was amazed at how quickly Neve managed to put the blonde at ease and engage her in seemingly casual conversation. The apprehension he’d harboured at the start of the journey eased as he watched her work. She’d be dynamite in a business negotiation.

  Two-and-a-half hours later, Micah’s feet burned from the heat of the road, but Neve had been right. It was better on foot because he could immerse himself in the scents and sounds of the area. They’d knocked on five more doors and spoken to two more residents. At three unoccupied houses, they’d looked in widows, tried doors, and, despite Micah’s protests, she’d even entered outbuildings.

  So far, nothing they’d seen or heard was suspicious. “That’s a fire track for rescue vehicles. What does the map say?” Neve asked.

  There was a metal gate with a permapine stile beside it.

  He unfolded Tony’s well-worn map and traced a finger along Yallunga Road. “It looks like about a kilometre of dirt before it joins another sealed road on the Cherry Gardens side of the hill.”

  She touched the padlock on the metal gate that blocked access to the track. It was intact, but the bracing metal strap had been torn from the permapine post, and one end of the crossbeam rested on the ground. Neve dropped into a crouch.

  “What?” Micah said, coming alongside.

  “Those are tire tracks,” she whispered. “I’d say large cc motorbikes from the width of them. Look”—she bent over and lifted the loose end of the permapine post—“it would be easy to move this aside to gain access.”

  Micah tensed. “That’s easily wide enough to ride a motorbike through.” They were due a break, and this had to be it.

  Chapter 28

  Neve stooped over the mess of tire tracks. “These look fresh.”

  She stepped through the stile opening and pulled the crossbeam back into place after Micah. It was as though she could hear every lizard in the grass and bird in the trees, smell motorcycle oil dropped on the soil, feel the tickle of the breeze on her clammy skin. If they really were getting closer to the Mutts, then she needed to put everything Tony had ever taught her into practice, to make sure they both made it home safely.

  A warm, dusty breeze whipped through the gully and stirred up dust twisters. A perfect day for hiking through the scrub after dangerous bikers. Not.

  The track was a car width, clear of debris and the soil packed hard. About a hundred metres along, it branched left.

  Micah referred to the map again. “Straight ahead is where it should go.”

  Neve glanced between the two roads. “The track to the left is more worn. We should go that way.” Decision made.

  The road twisted and turned through dense scrub, becoming narrow and rough in places. At least it was cooler in the shade of the trees. Neve stayed alert, listening for engines, voices, anything that might mean danger. A crow cawed and she jumped. Micah reached for her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

  It seemed like they’d walked for ages, but it was probably just because she was on edge.

  “We’ve crossed Scott Creek twice now,” Neve said. “Do you want to turn around?”

  “I’m good.” Micah trudged on.

  Just when she was about to suggest they head back, the road did a weird dogleg and there was another gate with a broken style beside it. They climbed over and looked to the right, where the road curved past a little cabin, and then looked left down a driveway with no house in sight.

  “What do you want to do?” Micah handed the map over.

  “Right will join another road. I suppose in the name of thoroughness we should knock on the doors over here too.”

  He nodded and followe
d the nearest driveway up a gentle slope. A few metres along, Neve grabbed Micah’s sleeve. There were the usual noises of wind rustling through leaves, rosellas squeaking, but then the sun glinted off a tiny black box fifty metres away. Right where the driveway curved. She pulled Micah into the scrub.

  “What are you doing?” he whispered.

  “Something’s not right.” She pointed. “That’s a camera.”

  “Surveillance in the middle of nowhere. We should go back.”

  “No. We need to find out for sure.”

  It could be nothing more than a hobby farmer with more money than sense, protecting his assets. She needed confirmation of Rowan’s whereabouts, before all of the sand in the hourglass settled.

  • • •

  Micah’s stomach flipped like a fish in its death throes as he stared up the long driveway. It was the point where it curved to the right that bothered him. There was no way to know what was around the corner. He’d promised Tony he wouldn’t put Neve in danger, although her father hadn’t seemed worried about the physical kind at least.

  He slid an appreciative gaze over her lean figure. The muscles in her arms were taut with anticipation, her body rigid, her eyes searching their surroundings. She didn’t look at all panicked.

  Neve turned to him. “You need to follow me and do exactly what I do. If they have cameras set up, there might be more.”

  “More?”

  “Like motion detectors or booby traps.”

  “Perhaps I should go first.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I know what I’m doing.”

  She started forwards, moving into the trees this time. Each step was carefully placed as she stalked like a cat, coiled and ready to fight or flee. He followed slowly, although not with as much stealth. Somehow his lightweight sandshoes made twice the noise of her heavy boots on the crisp undergrowth.

  A few metres into the scrub, she began to move parallel to the driveway. It seemed there were cameras on the main entryway but nothing off the beaten track. Typical low-level security. It was looking more like asset protection and less like organised criminals. He breathed easier.

  At the curve in the driveway a dusty, white, twin-cab ute came into view.

  Neve grabbed his arm. “The license plate of Dave’s ute started with V,” she whispered.

  There was only the one vehicle in the cleared parking space, and its registration plate started with V. Any number of utes might be similar, but he couldn’t leave without knowing for sure and he wasn’t going to wait for Neve to decide their next move.

  The increased tempo of his pulse left him breathless. He couldn’t stay hiding in the bushes if his family was on the property. He moved mutely past her, downhill from the parking area, and circumnavigated a large dam. This brought them around to the other side of the car, where he could see a huge olive-green shed, rainwater tanks, and the back of a standard ranch-style house.

  “We need to get to higher ground so we have a view of the whole property.” He whispered.

  Neve pointed ahead. “Can you see the cameras on the corners of the house and shed?”

  He nodded.

  “They’re all about watching what approaches from the driveway. Nothing around the back.”

  They moved around the shed and up a gradual incline to a rock outcrop overlooking the occupied area.

  “Shit.” Micah’s curse was no more than an exhalation.

  Chrome glistened on the western side of the house. A large group of Harley Davidson motorcycles in a circular clearing.

  “I count fifteen,” Neve said. “Someone either has a lot of biker friends, or the Mutts are here.”

  An electronic buzz made Micah start. Just a grinder inside the big shed, but it took several minutes for his heart rate to slow. From their vantage point, he could see a lot, but it wasn’t enough to confirm what he needed to know: Were Chelsea and Rowan on the property?

  There hadn’t been any movement outside. “I’m going closer,” he said.

  Their gazes met, and her expressive brown irises conveyed everything she couldn’t say; there were too many of them to safely take on. But then she nodded. Thank goodness she understood how much he needed this.

  “Watch where you put your feet,” she whispered, already moving down towards the back of the buildings.

  The shed nestled against the trees, providing good cover right up to it. With his back pressed against the warm corrugated iron, Micah leant close to Neve.

  “You go left, I’ll go right,” he said.

  He shuffled sideways to the east and boldly hurried around the side. At the front, he peered around the corner, where verbal banter in deep voices drifted out of an open extra-wide roller door, but the words were indistinct.

  The surveillance camera mounted to the corner of the gutter was pointed down the driveway, not at the shed entrance, and garden shrubs and a rainwater tank blocked the line of sight to the house, so he stepped briskly into the clearing, keeping close to the shed front. The tips of his fingers tingled and his legs felt heavy, as though his whole body was telling him not to do this.

  “Hand me that drill bit, will you?”

  Micah stilled. The baritone reply was lost in machine noise. Not Dave’s and Boiler’s familiar voices, but there were definitely two of them. The other dozen bikers and Dave could be anywhere on the property. Too many to take on. Too many to keep Neve safe. He could look inside, but he needed to remain concealed long enough to find Rowan.

  The mechanics were grinding the shell of a car, and there was a pile of license plates and engine blocks to the side. Parts that had identifying features.

  A boom of raucous laughter carried up from the house. No point going in gung ho. Better to lie low and peek in a few more windows. Figure out exactly what they were dealing with. He backed away from the mechanics.

  • • •

  There were voices coming from inside the shed. Hopefully Micah wouldn’t do anything stupid. Holding her breath, Neve pressed a cheek to a dirty window frame in the back wall and turned her body slightly. There was a narrow plywood-lined room, separate from the main part of the shed, a door on the front and inside walls, a tallboy with a swimsuit calendar hanging above it, but no bikers.

  As she crept around the side of the big shed, her boots were almost silent on the dolomite base, but her breathing was ragged in her ears. A quick peek around the corner confirmed that the camera was pointed towards the house. She’d be clear if she stayed by the shed wall.

  There was the sound of a radio and muffled voices, but nothing close to her, so she stole a look around the front. The handle of the door to the narrow room was only a few steps away. If they were going to find Rowan, she needed to get inside and check it.

  Go feet go! She slid around the corner and, totally exposed, wrapped a hand around the door handle. It started to turn when a scrawny bloke in overalls stepped through the open roller door farther along the shed. The air in Neve’s lungs caught with the anticipation of a fight, but his back was to her as he bent his head and flicked a lighter.

  “You’d better not let Boiler catch you slacking off,” a voice said from inside the shed.

  The hairs on the back of Neve’s neck prickled at the name.

  “I’m havin’ a bloody fag. If we’re gonna work fourteen-hour days, then I’m allowed a few smokos,” the skinny bloke retorted.

  “Brave talk for a mechanic.”

  Neve backed up a couple of paces, the stiff casing of the blade strapped to her calf a reminder that she had deliberately walked into a dangerous situation. She was almost to the corner of the shed when the smoker scuffed dirt with his boot in an obstinate show and started to turn. One leap and she was out of sight.

  She sprinted away, rounded the back wall of the shed, and ploughed into a solid body. A scream bubbled up her throat.

  “It’s me. It’s just me,” Micah muttered, holding her tight.

  Eyeball to eyeball, breathing heavily. Waiting for an attack. She couldn
’t give in to the temptation to let his closeness reassure her because any second now, she might be fighting for their lives.

  A minute passed with no sounds of pursuit; a final shudder of adrenaline coursed through her body and left it on a relieved sigh. She sagged against him.

  There were a hundred questions in his eyes, but thankfully he remained silent. She stabbed a finger in the direction of the dam and then pushed and cajoled a reluctant Micah to the other side of it. It wouldn’t take long to reach the safety of the fire track.

  A solid tug on her hand jerked her backwards. Micah stood with his arms crossed.

  “What did you see?” he demanded.

  “One of the mechanics mentioned Boiler, but I didn’t see Chelsea or Rowan,” she whispered. “There’s nothing we can do right now. We’ll have to come back.”

  “I’m not leaving without seeing if they’re in the house.”

  “We don’t even know if they’re here. Be reasonable, there are fifteen Harleys and a ute. That could mean as many as nineteen men, and if just one is armed, we’d never make it out alive.”

  “I can’t abandon them.” He shuddered as though the thought of leaving was physically painful.

  “Micah, it’s crushing me, too, but we can’t do this alone.”

  His teeth clenched. “You head back to the car, but I’m going to find Rowan and Chelsea.” He turned his back on her and stomped up the hill again.

  “And what do you think the Mutts are going to do if they catch you sneaking around instead of paying up?”

  That froze him midstep. His shoulders heaved under the weight of indecision. It was all the opportunity she needed.

  “Micah, we’re going to find them, but we need to regroup. We know the Mutts are here, and Jack and Tony will help us, or we could get the cops involved.”

  “No. Boiler said no police.” He turned to face her again. “What if they’re in there, waiting for me to save them?”

  The terror in his eyes was gut-wrenching; she felt it too. This might be their only chance. No, it couldn’t be . . .and besides, it was suicide to get closer to the house with that many gang members inside. The only sensible decision was to get out of there.