by Robin Storey
It was just after 11 o’clock. ‘On my way,’ I messaged back. I threw my stuff into my bag, went to the motel reception and checked out. Even though I’d already memorised the quickest route from my motel to The Groves shopping centre, I set my car GPS for extra insurance. I estimated I should get there at about the same time as Frankie if there were no traffic hold-ups. As I sat at a red light drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, I suddenly remembered my meeting with Sarah at 2 o’ clock. Damn! I couldn’t stop now to text her. I’d do it later – if I had time.
The traffic light gods were on my side but I resisted the temptation to speed – the last thing I needed now was to be pulled over for a speeding ticket. I’d taken 15 minutes to pack and check out of my motel, and I arrived at the shopping centre in exactly 15 minutes. Half an hour on the dot. I slotted into a car park outside the bottle shop and got out.
Delish Donuts was diagonally opposite, immediately recognisable with its neon pink, dot-covered doorway, resembling donut icing sprinkled with hundreds and thousands. Frankie stood outside it with Jake and Aimee, one child on each side. They wore backpacks; and as I grew closer, I could see that Aimee was sucking the ear of a soft toy rabbit, and Jake wore a Thomas the Tank Engine cap and was clutching a Lego car. He watched my approach with the intense curiosity that only a five-year-old could muster, and my heart constricted.
‘Hi!’ I greeted Frankie. The look on her face told me instantly something was wrong. Before I could think, a man with unkempt hair and a dark shadow of stubble stepped out of Delish Donuts holding a paper bag in one hand. The other was in his coat pocket. In the split second I took to register it was Eddie, I grabbed Frankie’s hand. ‘Let’s go.’
Then Eddie was behind me and something jabbed me in the back. ‘Not so fast, lover boy,’ he said in my ear. He smelled of stale sweat and cigarette smoke. ‘You wouldn’t want me to use this gun now, would you? Get back in the car – you’re gonna take us all for a ride.’
In a panic, I looked around me – surely someone would see what was going on. An old couple were getting into their car nearby and a group of teenage girls chatted noisily outside the pharmacy. No-one was taking any notice.
Eddie jabbed the gun harder into my back. ‘No-one’s going to help you. Open your mouth and you’re dead. Now walk. I’m right on your arse.’
Eddie took Frankie by the arm and pushed her in front of me. ‘Same goes for you, bitch. Kids, walk with Mummy.’
‘Where are we going, Daddy?’ Jake asked.
‘For a drive. Shut up and be a good boy, and you can have a doughnut.’
We walked back to my car, Frankie and the kids in front of me.
Jake looked up at Frankie. ‘Mummy, why has Daddy got a gun?’
Eddie leapt forward and clipped him hard on the side of the head. ‘Shut up! Do you want a doughnut or not?’
Jake gave a loud sob then obviously thinking better of it, toned it down to a snivel. Aimee let out a wail. In my peripheral vision, I saw a couple of heads turn; but a wailing child in a shopping centre was nothing out of the ordinary, and I guessed Eddie had put the gun out of sight.
Frankie leaned down and gave Aimee a hug. ‘It’s okay, honey.’ She made a good job of sounding reassuring.
I unlocked the car and got into the driver’s side. Eddie got in beside me. Frankie and the kids, still snivelling, scrambled into the back seat. Frankie helped them to put on their seatbelts.
‘Jeez, just a crummy Mazda, I was expectin’ at least a Jag,’ Eddie said. ‘Maybe you’re not such a hotshot lawyer after all.’ He dug the gun into my ribs. ‘Drive. Go out the exit and turn left. And keep your hands on the wheel.’’
I did as I was instructed.
‘Where are we going, Mummy?’ Jake asked in a small voice.
‘What did I tell you before?’ Eddie yelled. He tossed the paper bag over his shoulder into the back seat. ‘Stuff these in your gob and shut up!’’
I heard the bag rustle and then silence. I followed Eddie’s instructions and we were soon on the motorway heading northwest. I tried to still my racing mind and think rationally. Where was he taking us? Was he going to hold us all hostage somewhere? Or – I could hardly bear to think it – kill us? And how the hell had he discovered Frankie’s escape plan? I longed to catch her eye in the rear view mirror, but Eddie was watching my every move.
‘Left here,’ he commanded as I pulled up at a red light. We were out in a new suburban development that was still half bushland, and the road to the left wound its way through scrub and thickets of trees festooned with lantana, its sweetish smell infiltrating the car. The road became a narrow track and the forest crowded in against the car. Sweat trickled down my neck. This is not happening – I’m having a nightmare. Soon I will wake up. Please.
‘Where are you taking us?’ Frankie asked. She didn’t quite succeed in hiding the tremor in her voice.
Eddie spun around and trained the gun on her. ‘Shut up, bitch! You disgust me – you and your shit-don’t-stink pretty boy. He won’t be so pretty when I’ve finished with him!’
Jake began to sob again. ‘Daddy, don’t shoot us!’ Then Aimee started howling.
‘Shhh, both of you, Daddy’s not going to shoot you,’ Frankie whispered.
Eddie turned around to the front and dug the gun again into my ribs. ‘Pull up here.’
We had come to a grassy clearing, which sloped into a small creek, meandering through the trees. I pulled up and turned off the engine. Eddie turned around to Frankie again, the gun aimed at her.
‘You stay here. One move and you’re dead meat, and I’ll bury you with lover boy. Kids, stay here with your mother.’ He nudged me with the gun. ‘Out.’
So he was going to shoot me. A one-man firing squad with Frankie and the kids as witnesses. Desperation kick-started my brain and in a split second, I had a plan. Of sorts. I was pretty sure Eddie was under the influence of drugs, probably ice. Meaning he’d slip up somehow. It could be our only chance.
Chapter 30
EDDIE sprang out of the car and came round to the driver’s side, the gun trained on me as I opened the door.
‘Over there.’
He nodded in the direction of the creek. I got out of the car, leaving the keys in the ignition. I closed the car door and willed my trembling legs to move. Eddie followed close behind me. He didn’t appear to have noticed that I had left the keys in the ignition. Or if he had, he didn’t regard it of any consequence. I darted a glance at Frankie through the front windscreen. Her eyes met mine, her expression not changing one iota. But I knew she knew what to do.
It was eerily quiet. Just the leaves rustling in the wind and the faint burble of the creek. The beating in my chest soared above them all, filling my ears.
‘Any particular spot?’ I asked Eddie over my shoulder. I was playing for time – to give Frankie time.
‘Stop where you are.’
I turned around and looked straight at him. The roar of a car engine filled the stillness. My car bounded forward and headed straight for Eddie, Frankie at the wheel. Thank God for automatics with gutsy take-off. Eddie wheeled around. I turned and ran, pounding along the narrow track that led into the bush. I only had a few seconds’ grace to get ahead.
A loud crack echoed through the air. A gunshot. I stumbled momentarily with the shock. Had he shot me? I didn’t feel anything. Please God, no! Don’t let it be Frankie! But I knew it was too late for prayers.
‘You fucking bastard!’ Eddie screamed. I veered off the track into the bush to give me more cover, jumping over vines, pushing through scrub and weaving around bushes. Eddie was crashing his way through the bush behind me. Another gunshot rang out –– the bullet grazed the trunk of a tree several metres away from me. Eddie was losing it. Great. He might have the advantage of ice-fuelled adrenalin and a gun, but I was driven by a powerful anger more intoxicating than any drug – I was Superman, I was invincible. Eddie had shot the woman I loved. Nothing he did could hurt me now. N
ot even killing me.
My legs and lungs were burning but I kept going, then as suddenly as it had begun, the bushland stopped. The bush track became a gravel road. A sign pointed straight ahead. ‘Narrow Springs Estate. Blocks still available.’ I was right out in the open, nowhere to hide. I dashed back and ducked behind a large paperbark tree, squeezing myself into the hollow just as Eddie came racing up, panting heavily.
‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ he grunted.
I edged out of the hollow, around the back of the tree and grabbed him from behind. One arm around his neck, pressing against it with all my strength, the other gripping the arm that held the gun and forcing it down. A shot rang out. Pain exploded in my foot. Eddie wrenched my arm away from his neck; and as he swung around, I drove my fist into his stomach. He grunted and hunched over. I kicked the hand that held the gun, then swiped it out of his grip and threw it as hard as I could into the bush behind me. This wasn’t about who had the upper hand with the gun – this was personal. Just Eddie and me.
He went to go after the gun, but I blocked his path and drove my fist into his jaw. It gave a satisfying smack; and as he reeled back, I sprang at him and we both fell to the ground. We rolled around in a tangle of dirt and grass, and grunts and punches. My mouth was full of blood, I was gasping for breath and somewhere in the back of my consciousness I was aware of the pain in my foot. Every time I felt my strength fading, I thought of my beautiful Frankie, her jaw determined as she gripped the steering wheel of my car; and I drove my fist once again into Eddie’s flesh.
But Eddie’s superior weight and strength gave him the upper hand. Each time I tried to get up, he wrestled me down. He pinned me down and drove his fist into my face. His body felt like a ton of bricks and I couldn’t move. He punched me again. This was it – he was going to beat me until I was dead.
My eyes were filled with sweat and dirt, and Eddie’s face was just a blur above me. I scrabbled frantically around on the ground with my hands for something I could use as a weapon. My fingers closed around a stick. It felt sturdy. I picked it up and jabbed it hard into Eddie’s side.
‘Fuck!’ he yelled. I jabbed him again, trying to find his rib and on the third jab I felt bone. Eddie groaned and his weight slackened enough for me to roll to one side and scramble out from under him. I limped in the direction of the bush. What in hell was I thinking to throw the gun away? I had to find it before Eddie did.
‘You fucking bastard!’ Eddie was coming up behind me, his breathing laboured. I bent down, picked up a rock, swung around and threw it. It grazed his shoulder then landed in the grass behind him. He sneered.
‘Is that the best you can do, pretty boy?’
His eyes were darting around, obviously looking for the gun. He took off in the direction of a clump of bushes. I looked around, spotted the rock I’d thrown at him and limped towards it. I gritted my teeth through the pain in my foot and ramped up my pace. Eddie bent over and picked something up from the ground. He whipped around and aimed the gun at me.
The rock was in my hand. I threw it, hard and overarm, like a cricket ball. It hit Eddie on the side of the head. At that moment he fired a shot, but it whizzed by me before he crumpled to the ground. I hurried over, picked up the gun from the ground where he’d dropped it and looked down at him.
For a split second I thought I’d killed him; then I noticed his chest moving. I could hardly believe I’d knocked him out – rugby was more my forte than cricket, but then my life had never depended on my bowling prowess. Eddie’s face was a bloody mess and his nose was skewed to one side. I probably looked just as bad – I certainly felt it. I dug my mobile phone out of my jeans pocket. The glass had shattered and nothing was working. Damn.
I leaned over and dug into Eddie’s jeans pocket, keeping a wary eye on him in case he suddenly came to life. I hauled out a mobile phone. It was then that I noticed that his filthy, grass-streaked clothes were also spattered with blood. Did I do that much damage? I looked down and realised it was coming from me. From my foot, where Eddie had shot me. It was still pouring blood. And hurting like nothing had ever hurt before.
My head was spinning. Don’t pass out now. The screen on Eddie’s phone was miraculously still intact. I turned it on and unlocked the screen. Eddie’s eyes fluttered open. He made a movement as if to try and get up. I pointed the gun at his chest. I could shoot him now, rid the world of one vermin and make sure he never hurt another person, woman or man. I had never used a gun in my life, but I had no compunction in making this the first time.
His swollen lip turned up in a sneer. ‘Go on, shoot me.’
My hand shook. Eddie’s gaze was fixed on me, taunting me. I was limp, my rage draining out of me. Now that I had the opportunity to exact revenge, I had no desire to do it. Killing him was too easy. He didn’t deserve a quick death. He deserved to rot in jail for the rest of his life.
I dialled 000 and waited for the police to arrive.
Chapter 31
MARIA ushered me into her office. ‘This is a pleasant surprise. I didn’t think you were coming back.’
I limped over to the armchair in front of her desk. My foot had suffered a lot of tissue damage and it was a long healing process. I had joked with Steph that she might now beat me to the goal of competing in a triathlon.
‘It’s not about me this time. It’s about my children.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘You have been busy. If I remember correctly, last time we spoke you didn’t have any children.’
‘I’ve got temporary custody of them. I’m applying through Family Court to be granted full custody. They’ve both been through a lot of trauma and they need some therapy. I was wondering if you could recommend a psychologist who’s experienced in dealing with traumatised children. I’d prefer that to my choosing someone at random.’
‘I saw your story on the TV news a few weeks ago. Such a tragic incident. Are these the two children who witnessed it?’
I nodded. Maria tapped her pen on the desk. ‘I know of a couple of psychologists who might fit the bill. Perhaps you’d better tell me the full story from the beginning, so I know exactly what we’re dealing with.’
I gave her a brief summary of my relationship with Frankie, and our plans to escape and start a new life. When two CIB detectives interviewed me in hospital, they told me that on the morning of the tragedy, Eddie had gone into the garden shed to get his fishing gear and found two children’s backpacks full of toys and clothes hidden behind a large crate of tools that he never used. He’d then threatened Frankie by gunpoint to divulge her plans, forcing her to send me the message and to meet me at the shopping centre as planned in order to trap me. His plan was indeed to execute me in front of Frankie ‘to teach that cheatin’ bitch a lesson.’
‘I told Frankie not to pack anything; we could buy stuff when we got there. But I’m guessing she wanted the kids to have some of their things from home to make them feel more secure; and I’m also guessing that Eddie hardly ever set foot in the garden shed, so she felt safe hiding them there. It was just so unlucky he chose that day to go in there.’
If he hadn’t, Frankie and I, and Jake and Aimee would probably be living in Gosford right now. A cosy cottage with a big back lawn for the kids to play on. And a white picket fence. I would have traipsed all over the city till I found one.
I was holding it together quite well until I came to the bit where Frankie started the car and headed straight for Eddie.
‘I took off – it was my only chance. He was too quick – another couple of seconds and she would have run him down. He shot her, killed her instantly.’
The last memory I had of Frankie as she ploughed the car towards Eddie had replayed itself constantly in my mind over the last six months. ‘Jake and Aimee...’ A sob rose in my chest. I took a deep breath and quelled it. ‘‘No kid should have to go through that. The police told me later they found the kids still in the car. Jake was lying across Frankie’s body, sobbing; and Aimee was curled up on the ba
ck seat with her thumb in her mouth – she’d cried herself to sleep.’
‘Those poor children,’ Maria said softly. ‘I presume their father is in prison?’
‘He’s on remand for murder. He’ll get life imprisonment; and by the time he gets out, Jake and Aimee will be adults.’ I paused. ‘There’s something I haven’t told you. Jake is my son. Frankie was pretty certain of it and I’ve since proved it through DNA testing. I haven’t told him yet – he’s got enough to deal with at the moment.’
Maria shook her head in amazement. ‘You’ve all got more than enough to deal with. Your relationship with Frankie does explain a lot about your mental state when I last saw you. I knew there was something you were holding back.’ She studied me. ‘So how are things between you and Sarah?’
‘Chilly. I’d arranged to meet her for coffee when I got the call from Frankie, so I’d stood her up. She was understandably very annoyed; although after she saw the report on the news that night, she apologised for sending me an abusive text message. Which, under the circumstances, I thought was pretty generous.’
The incident had been headline news that night and in the next day’s newspapers. My father still hadn’t forgiven me for dragging the family name into the mud of the murky criminal underworld. Nick and his family had been holidaying in London after his conference. They caught the next plane home and visited me in hospital. Recently, Nick had offered to pay for the children to attend a private school. I refused his offer, knowing it was made in good faith, assuring him I would be more than happy to send them to a public school.
My mother’s maternal instincts towards Jake and Aimee had overridden any fear of social ostracism. She and Steph had been a great help with the practical, everyday things such as buying clothes and toys, as well as moral support to endure the nightmares that happened almost every night. My own I could cope with, but when Jake or Aimee (or both – usually one set off the other) woke up screaming or sobbing, my heart would break anew and they invariably ended up snuggled up in my bed for the night. Who needed it more, them or me, it was hard to say.
