Fly In Fly Out

by Evie Snow

  “Everything alright? You doing okay?”

  “Yeah. No. Actually, I’m crap. At least the old man hasn’t done anything since I warned him off. Mum’s her normal stubborn self and isn’t thanking me. I saw him this time. I nearly puked all over my shoes, Scott. Thank god Stephen was there.”

  She’d told Scott about the thing with her dad a few days after she’d come back from George Creek. As usual, he’d tried to argue that she should let him use the photographs he’d taken of her and Amy after the beating they’d gotten fourteen years back, the same ones they’d used to pressure Jo’s dad into not coming after them. As usual, she’d told him no.

  “That’s truly fucked. Stephen know what’s going on?”

  “No, and I don’t want him knowing if I can help it,” Jo said firmly. “Don’t even think about saying anything.”

  “Any reason?” Scott asked. “I mean, I’m surprised you and he took a drive down there.”

  “I knew I’d be safe with him. He and I are . . .” Jo caught herself.

  “Like that, is it?” She could hear the smile in his voice despite the worry.

  “Yeah. Might be.” Jo gingerly made her way through a large, sandy rabbit warren. There were at least forty rabbit holes, double the number there had been when she and Amy were kids. Obviously, no one bothered to go shooting anymore, she thought wryly, watching a mangy-looking rabbit race away.

  Scott was silent for a while on the other end of the phone. “Should I be happy for you or worried?”

  “Big girl, Scotty boy. Remember our deal? I don’t ask about yours, and you don’t ask about mine.”

  “Yeah, but that was before yours was my cousin.”

  “Who you loaned my apartment to behind my back and tried to play matchmaker with in Kings Park. Don’t try this. Amy did already. Just admit that you two devious fiends were trying to play Cupid, and it’s working. Maybe working,” Jo corrected.

  “I’m not admitting any—”

  A small explosion of sand flew up at Jo’s feet milliseconds before she heard a sharp cracking sound. Jo jumped, heart taking a dive as she quickly looked around, trying to work out what had caused the noise.

  “What was that?” Scott exclaimed, and Jo heard banging at his end like he’d dropped something.

  “Uh. I don’t know.” Jo looked around frantically. She was standing in the middle of a bare paddock populated only by sheep and rabbits, a few old jarrah trees at its edge. There was a sharp, hot, dry smell in the air.

  “Sounded like gunfire.”

  “Nah. Couldn’t be.” Jo shook her head.

  Another loud crack split the air. She felt a stinging sensation in her right thigh.

  “Fuck!” she yelled, spare hand automatically dropping to her leg before she brought it up in front of her eyes. “Whoa,” she exclaimed, dazed. “That’s blood.”

  “Blood? What the fuck? Jo, what’s going on?” Scott’s voice was still in her ear. She was still holding the phone but her body felt wrong, all rubbery, not hers.

  “Think I’ve been shot.”

  “Shot?”

  “Maybe.” Jo twisted around, stumbling on unsteady legs as she scanned the paddock around her. “No one’s around, though. Can’t be. Nah.” Her whole leg was beginning to throb now. She looked down. A patch of red was quickly spreading down the leg of her jeans. “Hell, Scott. It’s real. I think I’ve really been shot.” The words only registered after she said them. Her leg began to feel like someone had smashed it with an iron bar, but the rest of her felt strangely detached. There was pain, getting sharper now, radiating from her thigh, but not quite real. “Hurts like hell too,” she said as if making a casual observation.

  Hold it. She’d heard about this. She was probably in shock. She looked around again and still saw nothing, let alone anyone with a gun.

  Scott was yelling orders intermixed with expletives, but she ignored them until he bellowed her name again.

  “What?” she asked, trying to shake off her confusion.

  Another crack sounded to her left, kicking up more sand.

  “MOVE! NOW!”

  She didn’t need to hear the command twice. Instead, she started running for the grapevines in the distance, thinking if she could get there, then she’d be able to hide until whoever it was stopped firing. Another shot echoed behind her, this one hitting the ground near her foot, and she dropped the phone. Half running, half limping, she headed for the Hardys’ house and Stephen.

  * * *

  Stephen started on his second homemade scone slathered with jam and cream care of his Grandma Angie, who was sitting across from him. She looked exactly the same as always, tall and angular, her long silver hair loose, wearing jeans and a fitted black T-shirt. Clayton and his dad were lounging at either end of the dining table, looking like two peas in a pod, wearing matching serious expressions. He’d just finished telling them about the latest deals he’d arranged for local wine distribution and Clayton was starting on his projections for the next grape harvest.

  All in all, they’d concluded things were looking good. Things were always good when Angie baked and no one was asking Stephen personal questions. Just as long as they kept things to business, this visit would be without incident.

  “So how are things with your apartment? Lauren sold it yet?” Rob asked when Clayton paused to grab himself another scone.

  Ba-bow.

  Stephen did his best not to tell his dad to mind his own bloody business. “These things take time, Dad.”

  “Yeah, well. Mike said you’re staying in young Jo Blaine’s place. Not a good look, mate,” Rob said gruffly. “Especially not after what happened years back. Hope you’re being a gentleman.”

  Stephen mentally wished Mike all manner of mayhem.

  “Rob,” Angie warned, eyes narrowed.

  “Leave off it, Dad,” Clayton chimed in, playing his usual role of diplomat by moving the conversation back to his plans to plant some Riesling in one of the north paddocks.

  Rob and Clayton were well into a heated debate on the topic when Stephen’s phone rang. Glancing at caller ID, he answered. “Scott, hey. How’s it going?”

  “Stephen, Jo’s been shot. Don’t know where she is. Somewhere between your place and her place.”

  The urgency in Scott’s voice brought Stephen to his feet. “What?” he exclaimed, mental gears grinding to cope with what he was hearing.

  “Jo’s been shot!” Scott yelled. “She’s dropped her phone. Don’t know where. Hell, man, just get out there and find her.”

  “Calm down,” Stephen said, holding the phone away from his ear while all manner of expletives showered down on him. “Scott. Scott, calm down! How do you know?”

  “Heard it, you idiot!” Scott bellowed. “Now go find her! I’ll be there in two hours.” Stephen heard Scott’s phone click off.

  “What’s up?” Clayton asked. All three Hardys were staring at Stephen, obviously having heard Scott yelling.

  “Said Jo’s been shot somewhere in between here and her place. She was walking . . .” As Stephen spoke, the enormity of what he was saying finally registered. His heart rate doubled. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. Jo was hurt. She needed him.

  “What?” Rob said.

  “Nah.” Clayton shook his head. “Can’t have been.”

  Stephen ignored them. He was already out the door and running.

  Chapter 10

  “Give me some breathing room here, guys,” Jo groaned while doing her best to ignore the sharp scent of antiseptic, ammonia, and out-of-order human bodies that characterized hospitals everywhere.

  She was in a small private room right next to the nurses’ station. Their muted conversation and the sound of medical trolleys rolling out in the hallway could be heard, but only as a background hum. It was the foreground that was giving Jo problems right now.

  Every available male member of the Hardy clan loomed over her narrow bed, including Scott, who’d managed to get down to Margaret River H
ospital from Perth in record time, no doubt risking an impressive number of speeding fines. He was clasping a brown manila envelope but wouldn’t tell anyone what was in it. Angie had stayed back at the house to take the police to the spot where Stephen had found Jo limping through a row of grapevines, blood gushing down her leg.

  Rob and Clayton immediately accommodated her request and backed off to hover near the wall. Scott and Stephen didn’t move an inch. Ever since Stephen had hauled Jo onto the back of the quad bike he’d ridden to find her, he hadn’t let her out of his sight.

  “Ignore her,” Scott said. He was sitting on the end of Jo’s bed next to her feet, and Stephen was sitting next to her shoulder, holding her hand in a death grip. Both men were gray-faced and irritable.

  Jo appreciated the attention—really, she did—but the drugs weren’t working as well as they could have been. Her leg throbbed from the fifteen stitches, and the adrenaline from her interaction with a .22-caliber bullet had finally drained out of her.

  “Yeah, thanks.” Jo glared at Scott. “It’s easy for you to talk. You’re not sitting with your backside exposed to the elements and a throbbing leg.” An air-conditioned breeze breeched the back opening of her hospital gown, reminding her that she was currently flashing her rump to the universe. “Where are my clothes?”

  “We’re gonna get them washed for you.” Clayton’s voice was deep and reassuring.

  “Dad, d’you think we could get Angie to loan Jo something to wear home?” Stephen asked, his grip on Jo’s hand tightening momentarily. “They’re about the same size.”

  Rob had been the one to drive them all to the hospital. He’d been hovering ever since, deep lines grooved around his mouth, brows beetled in worry, staring at Jo like he expected her to expire any minute.

  “Yeah,” Rob said distractedly. “Jo, the doc said you have to stick around for a few more hours so they can make sure everything’s alright. Frankly, it’d make it easier for the police to interview you here too. You alright with that?”

  “I reckon I’ll have to be,” Jo grouched then gave him a weak smile. “Thanks, Mr. Hardy. I’m sorry for snapping.”

  “Call me Rob, love. You’re entitled to be worked up, given what’s happened. The sooner we catch who did this, the better.” He reached over Stephen and gave Jo’s shoulder an awkward pat.

  “Thanks.” Jo gave him another, more pained smile and then turned it on Clayton. “Thanks for helping earlier too, Clayton.”

  “No worries,” Stephen’s oldest brother said calmly. “I know your mum and dad are worried about you. Angie called them, but the police are probably already out at the farm holding things up.”

  “Yeah. I’m sure they’ll be over when they get the time,” Jo replied, not knowing what else to say. Since he’d just tried to kill her, Ken was the last person she wanted to see right now. She had no doubt he’d feigned concern about her well-being. Given his obsession with maintaining appearances, she was surprised he hadn’t rushed to the hospital the minute Angie had called. Maybe for once guilt had gotten the best of him.

  Bastard.

  She squeezed Stephen’s hand, felt Scott’s reassuring presence at the end of the bed, but the sick feeling that had been dogging her since she’d realized her father had deliberately aimed a gun at her and pulled the trigger didn’t go away. Instead, it balled up in her chest, making her lungs feel far too small.

  “Great then.” Clayton exhaled. “Well, Dad and I are going to go talk to the police now. Angie’s got ’em out at the farm. They’ll be checking all the registered guns in the area. We should work out who it was in no time.”

  Jo stifled a pang of frustrated rage at the knowledge the police wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing. She knew for a fact they wouldn’t find the rifle that shot her. Her father was too smart for that. “Thanks, Clayton.”

  “No worries.”

  “Yes worries,” Stephen growled. “Just find out who the hell did this.”

  “Calm down. The cops are on it,” Rob said.

  “They better find something. I’ll come out and help look once we get Jo home. We’ll be staying on the farm tonight. Put me and Jo together in my room, and Scott can sleep in Mike’s,” Stephen barked, making it clear that he and Jo were a couple—as if the others hadn’t gathered that already. He turned to Scott. “You’re staying too, right?”

  Scott nodded. “Yeah. Stephen, guys, do you mind if I have a talk with Jo alone for a bit?”

  “Yeah, I do mind.” Stephen’s expression changed from worried to stormy. “I mind a hell of a lot.”

  There were a few minutes of uncomfortable silence before Clayton cleared his throat again. “Yeah, sure. We have to go anyway. You coming with us, Stephen?”

  Stephen looked from Scott to Jo. It was obvious he wasn’t planning on going anywhere, but Jo really didn’t want Scott voicing his views of her father in public right now. It would be a total disaster.

  She squeezed Stephen’s hand gently. “Go see your brother and dad out. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I’d rather stay.”

  “I know, but I need you to give me a few minutes here,” Jo said firmly. Seeing that he was about to argue, she added with a weak smile, “Please? I’m fine.”

  He caved after a long, tense pause. “Five minutes,” he told Scott with a glare. “Upset her, mate, and you’re in for it.” He leaned down to kiss Jo softly on the forehead before leaving the room with Rob and Clayton. Jo felt her eyes prickle as she watched him go.

  She wiped her eyes and turned to Scott. “Out with it.”

  “You going to tell the police it was your dad or do I have to?” Now that everyone was gone, Scott didn’t bother hiding how pissed off he was. He was a wreck, his long hair all over the place, his face haggard.

  Jo shook her head emphatically. “There won’t be any proof, Scott. He’s too smart for that.”

  “Yeah? Well, he’s not smart enough that we don’t have evidence on what he did to you and Amy years ago. I’ve got those photos, remember? I brought them with me.” He waved the brown manila envelope he’d been gripping since he’d turned up at the hospital.

  Jo was already shaking her head, eyes filling with frustrated tears. “You know that was too long ago to have any currency now, and even if it wasn’t, I can’t. I want to, but I can’t. It’s the same as always. I can’t do anything while Mum’s still with him. If the police don’t pick him up in time, he could do something stupid, even kill her before they got him. She’ll defend him till the day she dies, too. Even if they can pin this on him”—she gestured down to her leg—“she’d sell everything in the house to bail him out. It’s lose-lose.”

  “It’s screwed is what it is,” Scott snarled. “So you’re just going to suck it up. Again?”

  “You’re acting like I have a choice here.”

  “You do. You just can’t see it. He could have killed you, for Christ’s sake.” Scott’s voice was rising.

  “Calm down. I know. I was there,” Jo said, hoping to hell Stephen and his family wouldn’t hear Scott from out in the hall. “But I didn’t see him. So unless I lie and say I did, it’s my word against his.”

  Scott snorted in disgust, his frustration obvious.

  “Seriously, Scott, he’s too crafty. The minute I worked out what happened, I knew there’d be nothing I could do.”

  “They can test for bullets nowadays,” Scott said, ignoring her. “They can see if one of his guns was fired.”

  Jo let out a short, bleak laugh. “The old man’s had an unregistered gun since before they tightened the laws around here. Who knows where he’s got it stashed? And the cops don’t do that kind of test when they can just blame it on a few ricochets from some stupid kids shooting rabbits.”

  Scott stood up and began pacing the length of the bed. “This just makes me so pissed off! I know you’re worried about your mum, but that isn’t good enough. I want to go over there and . . . hell, I don’t know, do to your dad what he’s just done to y
ou, but I wouldn’t bloody well hit him in the leg.” He threw up his hands as he spat out the last few words, face contorted in anger.

  “Yeah. Me too. But I can’t and neither can you. So suck it up and give me a hug.”

  Scott walked over and grabbed her shoulders, mashing her face to his chest.

  “Ouch!” she yelped, and his grip immediately loosened.

  “Stop whining,” Scott murmured against her hair, his voice catching. “I don’t even want to tell you what it felt like to be on the other end of that phone, Jo. You’re family to me. I love you, idiot. Give me a bit of room here to be upset, alright?”

  “Alright,” Jo said in a small voice. “Although my leg’s killing me, so you can go find a nurse so I can take something to knock me out.”

  “Not until you talk to the cops.”

  “Then find me Stephen,” Jo grumbled. “He was making it better before.”

  “That I can do,” Scott replied with a small smile before going out into the hall and bellowing for Stephen, much to the annoyance of every nurse on the ward and most of the patients.

  Stephen’s returning bellow almost got them kicked out of the small hospital.

  “Scott?” Jo called just before he left.

  “Yeah.”

  “Can you run interference so your family doesn’t try and invite Mum and the old man over tonight? I don’t know how to explain things to people yet, let alone Stephen. He’s going to be worked up enough as is and I don’t want him getting suspicious, especially not after he was with me this morning when I ran into my dad. It was pretty obvious we weren’t a happy family.” She drew a shaky breath. “I know it’s asking a lot . . .” She let her words trail off as Stephen sprinted back into the room, giving Scott a dark glare as his cousin left.

  “What’s asking a lot?” Stephen demanded. Jo saw for the first time he had reddish-brown stains all over the front of his shirt and jeans. Her blood. He didn’t even appear to notice them. He was too busy hovering, gently retaking his place next to her on the bed.

  “I just asked if Scott could let my mum and dad know what’s going on so you don’t have to worry about doing it,” Jo managed to say without even flinching at the lie.