Nothing.
Then a flash of blinding headlights made her blink, the glare reflecting off the wet road so she couldn’t make out whether it was Evan’s Porsche parked first in line at the curb.
Was it him?
She moved closer to the vehicle, stopped and squinted. The passenger side door was flung wide, but the car was too bulky to be Evan’s low-slung sports car.
She swung away and began heading back towards the pub.
‘Laila!’
She halted at the sound of Evan’s voice.
Slowly, she turned and walked towards the car.
He must be on the phone.
‘Did you buy a four-wheel drive? ’ Grasping hold of the doorframe, she peered inside, the metal cold in her hands.
Evan was sitting in the passenger seat, back stiff, face white, eyes full of regret and apology.
Too late, Laila saw Scarlett Peyton. She was sitting directly behind Evan, a cruel smile splitting her face, the barrel of a gun pressed into the back of his neck.
Chapter Thirty-five
7 p.m. Saturday
Scarlett ordered Laila to drive. ‘Go around the front. Get in the driver’s seat. Try anything, and he’s dead.’
Heart racing like a motor in her chest, Laila forced her shocked body to move. The four-wheel drive was high at the front, so she kept her arm by her side, concealing the handbag hanging from her wrist. Slowly, she rounded the front of the vehicle and opened the driver’s door.
Evan signalled with his eyes for her to run.
Laila took hold of the grab handle and hoisted herself up.
‘Give me your phone,’ Scarlett said, the instant the door was closed.
Laila reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out her phone. As she passed it over her shoulder she let the bangle on her other wrist slide further up her arm so it almost reached her elbow. The attached bag settled high on her thigh, closest to the door. Temporarily out of Scarlett’s vision.
‘What’s going on?’ she asked.
‘Drive!’
Laila gave a violent start, hands and knees trembling as she located the key in the ignition. Planting her foot on the brake, she turned over the engine. The big vehicle started with a quiet purr, the dashboard lighting up like a cockpit. It struck her that Evan must have leaned over, at gunpoint, and turned on the lights as she walked towards them.
Forget the seatbelt.
Think, Laila! Think!
You want police to stop you.
‘Drive, and don’t look at him,’ came the command from the back seat.
‘I don’t know the car. Where’s the handbrake?’ She had to keep Scarlett talking, establish communication.
‘You stupid bitch, what does he see in you?’
‘Lever under the dash.’ Evan said quietly, then his head jerked forward as Scarlett rammed the gun barrel hard into the back of his neck.
‘Don’t speak to her! You can speak to me, but not to her.’
Grateful it had stopped raining, Laila put the car in gear and flicked on the indicator. Beside her, Evan was sitting forward, head bent, arms folded. She could see the gun barrel sticking through the gap between the seat and the headrest.
Forcing herself to slow her breathing, Laila pulled away from the curb, heard the door locks engage as if trapping them in a mobile prison.
They stopped in George Street, and Laila glanced in the rear view mirror, hoping the flashing seatbelt light on the dash didn’t draw Scarlett’s attention. But the woman was intent on keeping the gun at Evan’s neck, and she was looking around, as if searching for where to go next, as if all this was happening without much planning.
‘Why?’ Laila asked, forcing her shocked brain into action.
Hard, cold, pitiless eyes met hers in the rear view mirror.
‘You still haven’t worked it out yet, have you?’
‘Is it because I won’t act for you anymore?’
‘You forced me to do this. Now I have to rush it all.’
‘All what?’ Evan asked.
Scarlett stiffened, and for a moment she stared at the back of his head.
‘How could you?’ Scarlett’s voice turned low, beaten, terrifying. ‘How could you prefer her, to me?’
Laila went dizzy, face tingling as the blood left her head.
Dear god!
Not that!
Not Evan and Scarlett!
Feverish sweat broke out on Laila’s body, her heart slugging painfully against her ribs. She shot a glance at Evan. He was staring through the windscreen, wide-eyed, stunned.
Laila tightened her grip on the wheel and followed the line of traffic around Central Station and up into Surry Hills.
Eventually, he spoke. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
The woman in the back seat gave a chilling cry that had every muscle in Laila’s body tensing. ‘This thing between us.’
There was a long pause, then Evan spoke again. ‘There’s no “thing” between us, Scarlett.’
To Laila’s surprise, his voice was firm, gentle, as if he were explaining something to a bewildered child. Only then did she realise they were dealing with someone deluded, someone possibly in the grip of a psychotic episode, someone who’d lost touch with reality.
‘I rang you so many times and told you I was leaving him. It was the perfect opportunity for you to make a move, admit you wanted me. And you did nothing.’
‘You’re Duncan’s wife. There will never be anything between us.’
‘I hate him,’ she screamed, then her attention snapped to Laila, and she raised a hand and pushed her in the shoulder. ‘Go to Centennial Park.’
‘Don’t hurt her. Please. It’s me you’ve got the issue with. Let Laila go, and we’ll sort this out, just you and me.’ There was a pleading note in Evan’s voice that made Laila’s throat ache but only served to enrage Scarlett.
‘It’s too late. I overlooked your one-night stands, but you kept going back to this one. I knew it was different this time.’ Scarlett was rambling. Making statements, then refuting them, as if debating with herself.
‘How did you know these things?’ This time there was real bewilderment in Evan’s voice.
He was keeping her engaged.
Talking.
Establishing rapport.
Laila stayed quiet, looked left then right, slowed down each time they approached a camera. If they didn’t make it out alive, at least Dickson Cross would be able to put together a timeline of their movements.
Scarlett gave a manic laugh. ‘Surprised I could do it, huh? It was easy.’
She was boasting now, more powerful than angry. ‘I put remote spyware on your phones when you were playing pool at the house at three in the morning. You should be more careful.’
Laila’s mind raced. That’s how Scarlett had learned about the facilitation payments and high-class call girls. From Duncan’s phone. Private information belonging to the Peytons, obtained illegally by their daughter-in-law and wife.
Laila caught sight of her reflection in the rear-view mirror, face deathly pale, eyes wide with fright. She clenched her hands on the wheel and flicked her eyes back to the road. Beside her, Evan’s body was taut with tension, fists clenched at his sides.
Soon, Laila was turning into Centennial Park where huge Australian figs and eucalypts overhung the narrow single carriageway. Apart from one or two lights shining from the restaurant windows, there was no sign of life — no joggers, no horses, no groups of overly fit Lycra-clad cyclists.
On a wet Saturday night, the park was dark and uninhabited, the perfect place to commit a crime.
A crime of passion.
Whoever would have guessed?
Sweat stuck to Laila’s body as she flicked her eyes around the car, searching for something, anything she could use. If she lost her bag, the keys were a possible weapon.
What else?
What could she accomplish with a gun trained on Evan?
She only
had her handbag, and Scarlett could spot that any time. One badly timed move, and he’d be dead.
Laila ground her teeth and pushed past the fear that threatened to paralyse her.
What else was there?
An electronic tag.
A GPS mounted on the dashboard, close to the window.
Laila took her eyes off the road for a few seconds to peer at the device. What she had first believed to be a GPS was actually a mobile camera used to record what was happening on the road in front of the driver.
And it remained on while the engine was running.
The keys were no longer an option. She needed to leave them in the ignition, switched to ‘accessories’, in the vague hope that its panoramic lens might capture some evidence of the crime Scarlett intended to commit.
Suddenly, Scarlett pointed to a narrow service road winding between the trees. ‘Down there. Go left.’
Laila pulled on the wheel, the sweep of headlights illuminating a number of wooden sheds that looked to house maintenance equipment. A remote section of the park, the area was dark and deserted, the padlocked sheds a clear indication that no activity was likely until Monday morning.
‘Pull over.’ Scarlett pointed to the where the road ended and the gravel widened out into a turning circle.
Fingers stiff from her death grip on the wheel, blood pounding in her throat and temples, Laila swung the car around so the lights pointed back down the road.
‘What are you going to do Scarlett?’ Evan asked between clenched teeth. ‘Kill us both?’
‘I’ll do a better job than Holt, the tool.’ She was crowing now, but not all her answers were in direct response to them.
‘Who are you talking you?’ asked Evan.
‘Shut up!’
‘Did you tell John Holt to hurt Laila?’
‘He’s an idiot. Failed twice. Told him I’d finish it myself.’
‘Is that where you got the gun, from the bikie?’
She didn’t answer but the weapon began to shake in her hand. ‘When you’re gone, I’ll feel better.’
‘No you won’t, you’ll feel worse.’ Laila said softly, trying to think of something, anything that might help them escape the horror of this nightmare. ‘Think of your children, Scarlett. You won’t be able to see them if you don’t get better.’
‘Get out!’ Scarlett screamed suddenly. ‘If you run, I’ll shoot him.’
Laila felt for the keys, turned them back a notch, then left them in the ignition.
This was her chance.
Maybe her only one.
She opened the door and looked at Scarlett. The other woman was already out of the car, throwing open Evan’s door and standing back, gun raised, waiting for him to get out.
Keeping her arm by her side, Laila slid from the car, making sure she landed squarely on both feet.
She had seconds.
Fail now — and Evan died.
At the exact moment Evan closed the door, Laila unzipped her handbag, shaky fingers probing for the pepper spray.
‘Get around here.’ Scarlett hollered.
Laila’s fingers closed around the small canister and she plucked it from the bag.
Without breaking stride, she dragged the bangle over her hand and dropped the bag beside the rear wheel. Then she was rounding the corner, the small can of spray tucked in her palm.
She needed to get close.
‘Stop there.’ Scarlet took two steps back, then waved the pistol at Laila, gesturing for her to go and stand beside Evan.
‘What are you going to do? Make us kneel while you shoot us, execution style?’ Evan’s voice was devoid of all softness now they were out of the car, reminding her of how he’d spoken to Jason Moulder yesterday.
Strangely, his more dominant attitude seemed to unsettle Scarlett, and for the first time since she’d been ordered into the car, Laila saw the other woman falter.
Evan pressed on, moving closer. ‘You’ll go to prison Scarlett. Your children will have a murderer for a mother. Think about that.’
Scarlett grimaced as though trying to shut down the voices in her head. ‘I love you. I’ve loved you from the moment Duncan first introduced us.’
Evan shook his head. ‘It’s all in your mind, Scarlett. I never encouraged you, ever. You’re just going to have to accept that.’
Tears slipped down Scarlett’s face, and the gun began to shake again. Laila held her breath, watching in horror as Evan held out his hand. ‘Come on. You haven’t hurt anybody yet. You don’t have to do this.’
Laila saw the change, the murderous expression that came into the other woman’s eyes, the way her index finger twitched on the trigger.
Laila moved, stepping in front of Evan, eyes fixed on the muzzle, fear eating at the lining of her stomach.
Scarlett’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Then her lips curved in a cruel smile. ‘Well, well.’
The square hit to Laila’s back rattled her ribcage, the air leaving her lungs with a grunt before she sprawled on the ground. The pepper spray shot from her hand, hitting the gravel with a metallic bounce and rolling a few feet away. It took Laila a moment to realise she hadn’t been shot. When she rolled over, Evan’s hand was wrapped around Scarlett’s wrist, twisting hard.
Working the air back into her lungs, Laila turned and crawled towards the pepper spray. Groping in the dark, she closed her hand around the canister and struggled to her feet. Sirens screamed into the night, but Laila didn’t care. She stumbled towards the struggling figures. Taller and stronger, Evan had Scarlett’s arms above her head, their bodies plastered together as he attempted to prise the gun from her fingers.
Laila was close enough now. Raising her arm, she deposited a cloud of capsicum spray directly in the other woman’s face.
A shot went off, exploding around them like a bomb.
Birds fluttered from the trees, animals scurried from the undergrowth.
The gun dropped to the ground.
Evan swooped.
Ears ringing from the blast, Laila watched Scarlett stagger to and fro, hands covering her eyes, mouth open in a murderous howl before she finally collapsed on the ground.
Laila turned and clutched at Evan, felt his arms come around her, though she couldn’t hear anything he was saying.
Body trembling with shock, she pressed a hand to his chest, felt the vibrations of his heart throbbing beneath her fingertips.
And then Dickson Cross was running towards them, a dark silhouette against the flashing blue lights of three patrol cars.
Chapter Thirty-six
11:30 p.m. Saturday
The medical staff at St Vincent’s Hospital were on the frontline of Sydney’s Saturday-night war zone, and traumatized eardrums came way down the list after king hits and methamphetamine overdoses. Subsequently, it was past eleven when Laila arrived at Sydney Police Headquarters to find Dickson Cross waiting in his office.
‘Come in.’ He thanked the female policewoman who’d accompanied Laila to the hospital, and closed the door. ‘How’d you go?’
Laila nodded. ‘It’s not too bad. It improved while I was waiting. They said it should settle in about a week. The left ear’s worse than the right.’
Dickson looked her up and down. ‘You look pretty good considering what you’ve been through. So does Evan. He’s here somewhere. With another officer and Duncan Peyton.’
Laila breathed a sigh of relief. She was grateful just to be in the same building as Evan. And it was no surprise Duncan was here too.
Dickson went behind his desk and Laila pulled a chair closer. Other than being tired, she felt fine. The policewoman had given her hot tea and two paracetamol, and after watching the procession of car accident victims, stroke patients and drug overdoses brought in by the paramedics, she started to feel as if she’d escaped lightly.
‘I’ve been dying to know, how did you find us?’ she asked, as soon as Dickson sat down. She hadn’t been able to hear a thing following the incident — and
then they’d whisked her off to hospital in a separate car.
‘We picked up Holt when he went home. Bikies are notorious for not talking, but I had him on CCTV from your office, and I convinced him you and Moulder would have no trouble picking him out of a line-up. I promised him leniency on the charges of importing illegal firearms. He talked, in the end. Said Scarlett had hired him to take you out first, and then Evan. Apparently, she wanted to see him suffer.’
An icy shiver ran up Laila’s spine, and she closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her mouth. She’d had her reservations about Scarlett, but never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined the woman capable of this.
When she opened her eyes, Dickson was watching her, the flash of anger in his blue eyes the only outward sign of emotion.
‘Where’d you get the capsicum spray? It’s illegal in New South Wales.’
‘I know.’ Laila clasped her hands in her lap. ‘I bought it when Will was stationed in Western Australia. He was deployed a lot back then. I never threw it out. For years, it lived in the back of the bathroom cupboard. After the attack in the park, I put it in my handbag.’
Dickson shook his head. ‘It won’t be a problem.’
Laila sighed with relief. ‘I’m sorry. I’m still getting my head around everything.’
‘Me too. Until Holt confessed, Scarlett wasn’t even on our radar. Then we couldn’t find her. In the end we got onto Duncan. She’d been over there, crying and carrying on because you told her to pick up her file. He believes that was the catalyst. She thought all contact with you would cease as of Monday. And then she took off in his car.’
‘How’s he taking it?’ Laila asked.
Dickson leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. ‘He’s shaken up, but mostly relieved for you and Evan. I think he’s known his wife’s been unstable for some time, and he’s thankful she’s in hospital getting the help she needs. He’s been worried about the children but, like everyone, he didn’t know the extent of her problems.’
‘It’s unbelievable. Who would have guessed?’
‘Well, Evan would have been our best hope, but he missed it entirely.’
He had. He’d never picked up on the signals.
Hot Lawyers: The Lee Christine Collection Page 65
