by Bowes, K T
Her phone stuttered to life in her jeans pocket and then stopped, hiccoughing and spluttering as though trying to get her attention. She fumbled in her jeans and withdrew it, seeing a number of missed calls on the screen. “Bloody hell!” she cursed, pulling over on the deserted road between two lines of dense bush.
Leilah hesitated at the sight of the same number trying to call her numerous times in the last few minutes. If she called it back and got Michael, he’d scream and shout and threaten, plunging her day into even more turmoil. “He can’t have got this number,” she reassured herself, using a confident tone against the latent fear budding in her heart. The handset blipped and a message appeared on screen. ‘It’s Derek. Pick up.’
With relief, Leilah called the number and listened to the ropey sound of the call attempting to connect. It failed. She texted back. ‘Bad connection. I’ll call you from TA in a few minutes.’
The sunshine turned its face onto the small town of Te Awamutu, filling it with light and sparkle. Leilah pulled over past the welcome sign and dialled Derek again. This time the call connected. “Sorry,” Leilah said. “I think it must be the phone. I borrowed my builder’s to call you before.”
“Yeah, he told me. I’ve got news on Bertrams Lawyers.”
Leilah got out of the steaming vehicle and turned her face into the sunshine. She leaned her backside against the driver’s door and tried not to tense herself for bad news. “Ok, go,” she sighed.
“Morley, Hepi and Bertram were based on Carson Street which, as you correctly deduced was razed for Cobham Drive. Paul Morley and Bob Hepi died in a boating accident a few months before they moved out and Bertram shifted to Christchurch to be nearer his family.”
“Wow.” Leilah’s hope plummeted. “Dad said they’d find me if something happened to him but I guess they had other stuff on their mind.”
“They sure did. Albert Bertram built up his own firm in Christchurch and employed his two sons to run it with him. He retired five years ago but you know what? He still remembers your dad.”
“Really?” Leilah kept her hope buried in her chest.
“What’s this about, Deleilah?” Derek asked, his perceptive tone cutting across the lousy connection. “It’s not about the land or money, is it?”
Leilah shook her head and then added voice to the pointless action. “No, Uncle. Vaughan was one of my best friends growing up. I’m not sure he knows the property isn’t his. Horse died not long after Dad and between them, those old men left a bloody big mess. It’s possible Vaughan thinks he owns it.” She sighed. “And if he knows Horse lost it, it’s probable he’s spent the last twenty years wondering when he’ll have it sold from underneath him.”
“Well, the good news is your mate’s paid rent,” Derek said. “It’s not much because with no landlord, the rate’s stayed the same for twenty years. There’s all sorts of legal implications with this, Leilah. I don’t want you to touch any of this until I’ve checked some things out.”
“Why didn’t the lawyer try harder to find me?” Leilah sighed. “It wouldn’t have been difficult.”
“Didn’t know Hector was dead,” Derek said, his tone sad. “He sent letters over the years as the money accrued but got nothing in reply. He wasn’t Hector’s regular lawyer so nobody told him. He kept hold of everything and assumed someone would come looking one day.”
“So, you can find him in five minutes but he couldn’t find me in twenty years?” Leilah let frustration permeate her voice. “And now you’re saying to leave things alone?”
“I’ve got ways of finding things out, Deleilah dear. And yes. Say nothing, do nothing. Give me some time. It’s messy. Probate didn’t happen on this property, dues weren’t paid; it’s a big mess and there’s an account in Hector’s name with over two hundred thousand dollars in it. Capital gains will want a chunk of that. Just trust me.”
“So what was the friend paying?” Leilah asked. “That’s a huge amount of money.”
“Not for the rental of a farm, Deleilah. It works out at only two hundred dollars a week. It’s nothing more than a gentlemen’s agreement.”
A lump formed in Leilah’s throat as Derek rang off. A gentlemen’s agreement between two of the most unlikely men in the southern hemisphere.
Leilah picked up a fire permit at the council offices and fumbled her way around a building supplies store. Wielding the broken part proved a master stroke as the gentleman in the plumbing department handed over a suitable replacement with very little fuss. Claus thumped her on the back with paternal pride back at the house and nodded his head with satisfaction.
“Hot water’s back on,” Tai announced an hour later, wiping his hands on a dirty rag. He leaned his backside against the counter and Leilah groaned in pleasure.
“Thank goodness! I can’t face another cold shower. You’re a miracle worker.”
“Didn’t even need to drain the tank,” Claus said, wandering through, bouncing the truck keys on his palm. “I’d recommend a filter system for your water, though. It’s coming straight off the roof and into your taps.”
Leilah looked down at the glass in her hand. Small bits floated around the liquid and she wrinkled her nose and sat it on the draining board. “Ok. Please can you look into it?”
“Yup.” Claus whacked Tai on the back and raised his eyebrows. “Come on, dude. Quicker we get going, the quicker we’re back.”
“You’ve got the list of what we need?” Leilah chewed her lip and watched the men walk through the open French doors. Claus patted his top pocket and waved over his shoulder.
“See ya later, miss,” Tai called and beamed as he closed the door.
Leilah set to work cleaning the bathroom with bleach. The stench of chemicals worked their way down the hallway and permeated through the house. A bottle of septic tank bacteria sat on the counter in the kitchen waiting for her to finish poisoning the drainage system. Once the bath, sink and toilet looked of a passable standard, Leilah read the instructions and poured the healing mixture down the toilet in the correct dose. “Sorry little bugs,” she said, wrinkling her nose at the peculiar scent of the liquid. “I’m done now. Only bio-products from today, I promise.” She flushed the toilet and froze at the sound of a vehicle pulling up outside.
Anticipating trouble, Leilah went to the front windows and looked out onto the drive, her eyebrows knitted with anxiety. Her daughter’s white car sat alongside the porch steps and Leilah’s face lit up with pleasure. Flinging the front door open, she ran out onto the porch and waved to the redheaded young woman in the driver’s seat. “What a lovely surprise,” she called, her face lighting with pleasure. “You should’ve called.” Leilah clasped her hands and waited for Seline to clamber from the car, the smile waning as she saw her daughter’s pale face and swollen eyes. “Seline? What’s happened?”
“I’m sorry, Mum.” The girl’s voice broke and her chest hitched. “I couldn’t help it; please forgive me.”
“Forgive what?” Leilah walked down the first two steps and then halted. The door behind Seline’s opened and a man climbed out, a slender blonde male with hooded lids and a peculiar glint in his eyes.
Seline’s body language communicated stress and exhaustion and her shoulders stooped. Leilah took another step towards her stricken child and the passenger slammed the rear door and raised the pistol in his hand. “Hello, Dee,” Michael Hanover said, his eyes sparkling with semi-madness. “Aren’t you going to invite us in?”
Chapter 49
Hunt For The Guilty Party
“Don’t do this, Michael.” Leilah’s plea emerged as a strangled whisper, the begging evident in the emotion behind her words. “There are other ways you can hurt me; you don’t need to use Seline.”
“But maybe I want to,” her former husband declared. He waved the pistol toward Seline’s temple and laughed as she recoiled. “Keep still, baby,” he said, his voice soft and he planted a kiss in the space where she expected a bullet.
“Michael, you�
��re high,” Leilah pleaded, her sentence building to a wail. “You wouldn’t do this otherwise. You adore Seline.”
“I’m not high,” he replied with annoyance. “I’m desperate, Leilah. You’ve taken away everything I valued and I’ve nowhere left to go. Get inside.” He waved the pistol towards the porch steps and followed the women up, closing the French doors behind him.
“The merger’s done?” Leilah asked, regretting the words as they became airborne. She searched her mind for the date and realised she no longer recorded the days in her brain. Alasdair Grayson would’ve needed only days to fell her arrogant husband and he’d used the time wisely. Meanwhile, the town had sucked her into its timeless vault like a hoof in deep mud. Sucked her in and kept her prisoner. “Sorry,” she said, her answer sounding lame against the taste of terror in her mouth.
“Two things I built,” Michael said, waving the gun. “A world class business and a family. You took them both, Dee Hanover.”
Leilah glanced at Seline. Her daughter’s eyes moved behind fluttering lids as she attempted to keep still. Michael’s arm locked around her neck made her look like a ragdoll carried by a child, a sickening sight for a mother to watch. Bile rose into Leilah’s throat and she swallowed it down, her shocked body maintaining its posture of arms stretched forward towards her stricken child. “I can’t change anything,” she whispered. “I felt trapped and I needed to get out.”
“And I handed you the excuse.” Michael waved the gun again and Leilah fought the urge to duck. “I shafted that stupid bitch and gave you the reason.” He sighed. “It was dumb.” His right thumb clicked the lever down on the safety and there was a clunk as something engaged inside the chamber.
Leilah shook her head as injustice rose in her breast, her eyes fixed on the terrified Seline. “You used drugs and beat me when you were high! You used my daughter as a ransom for the last ten years and you seriously expect me to believe that was the first time you were unfaithful?” Leilah dropped her arms to her sides as her confidence staged a return. “You’re a self-deluded liar, Michael Hanover! The little PA was just the first bit on the side you got attached to, but she wasn’t the first indiscretion. If I really wanted to finish you, I’d have sought a divorce years ago for the violence you subjected me to and made sure you were locked up.”
“Instead you waited and sold your share to the highest bidder!” Michael spat, his cheeks flushing with anger. “Who just happened to be Lara’s ex.”
Leilah shook her head and half turned her body away, her brain working through options and coming up empty. “That was unfortunate and not my doing. Do you really think I’d have enough business acumen to cook up a plot like that?”
Seline’s face grew whiter and whiter and her eyes remained closed. Leilah stared at the man who once provided succour and salvation in her troubled world; a man she declared fealty and kept her promises to until the final indignity. “What do you want from me now, Michael? There’s nothing left. I used my share of the house sale to buy this place and if it’s about the money from the company shares, you can take them. Nothing is worth this.” She raised a finger and pointed at the terrified teenager whose breathing looked constricted, crushed between Michael’s forearm and bicep. “Let her go.”
Michael kissed Seline on the side of her damp forehead and released his arm. She sank to the floor like a boulder and Leilah panicked. She made a dash for her daughter but Michael blocked her with a strong arm. “Leave her. I didn’t come here for the money.”
Leilah swallowed and took a step back, her heart increasing the yammer in her chest. “No,” she whispered and shook her head. “No.”
Michael advanced, placing thumb and finger either side of Leilah’s trachea. He squeezed and she felt her throat gag in complaint. “I need you to make some calls,” he said, his voice calm. “Let’s get them up here and you can tell the truth. His life for hers.” He put the gun to Leilah’s temple and she heard the trigger grate as he moved it with his index finger.
“No,” she gushed, her blue eyes wide in her pale face. “You promised.”
Michael sneered. “I promised a lot of things, babe, but being married to you killed my ability to keep a single one of them. I started off loving you, Leilah, I really did. But year after year of watching you pine for him and knowing no matter what I did, I couldn’t match up. That’s what killed our marriage, Leilah. All I did was start the funeral.”
Leilah shook her head. “I loved you, Michael. You helped me when nobody else could and the rest of it’s all in your mind. I gave you everything I had and you threw it back in my face.” Leilah’s voice caught as he squeezed harder. “You don’t know what real love is.”
He hit her with the side of the pistol and white spots flared behind her vision. “Make the call,” he hissed. Still Leilah shook her head.
“No. Just kill me and get it over with.” Maternalism flared within her. “Kill me and let Seline go. She’s done nothing wrong.” Twenty wasted years of trusting the wrong man. Hector’s letter clanged in her brain. She should have trusted her father all along. Leilah squeezed her eyes shut and wondered how to get to the gun in the safe. It seemed an impossible task, probably because it was.
“Call. Him.”
“No.” Denial made Leilah feel strong. Nobody else should die for her error of judgement. “No way.”
Michael turned towards Seline’s slumped body and he put the gun nozzle back on Leilah’s temple. The cold metal circle pressed into the delicate skin until it made contact with the hardness of her skull. “You do it,” he snapped at her. “You make the call.”
“To who?” Seline’s sentence tailed off into a wail and Leilah shook her head.
“Nobody honey. Just get up and walk away. Don’t look back. Go!”
“And I’ll pull the trigger and come after you,” Michael said, his voice cold. “There’s no blood between us, kid, or did you never work that one out?”
“What?” Seline’s wide blue eyes fixed their liquid gaze on Leilah and her mother drove down the spectre of guilt.
“Go, Seline,” Leilah pleaded. “He’ll kill me anyway so get out. Now!”
Her child faltered, damaging knowledge filtering through her brain ahead of the threat. “Dad’s not my dad?” Her voice wobbled and she looked from one to the other. “Mum?”
Leilah swallowed and closed her eyes. When they snapped open she made her decision and tried to communicate it telepathically. She pushed Michael with a gargantuan shove and screamed to her daughter, “Run!” She heard the gun discharge but realised too late Michael’s inexperience with firearms was worse than a sniper’s bad day.
The noise shook her eardrums to the point of rupture, leaving the blast reverberating through her skull for seconds afterwards. Michael swore and stepped back from the damage, but not far enough. Leilah lifted her arm to slap him again, finding hope in the deep recesses of her genetic Dereham optimism. She could do this. Seline would escape even if she couldn’t.
Her right arm failed to respond to her brain’s frantic signals and Leilah looked down, her eyes widening at the black line of spotted, singed fabric from elbow to shoulder. Her eyes tracked up, following the trail to its conclusion at the spreading circle of blood originating from the soft flesh between her collar bone and shoulder. The spots of black fabric spattered her expensive shirt in a generous arc and Leilah registered the prickling sensation reaching up her throat and onto her cheek. She watched the blood leak and pool, soaking a blue and red chequered square until it was crimson with no blue visible.
Seline’s high-pitched screams and Michael’s swearing brought her back to the scene in Hector’s lounge, but Leilah floated there with detached interest. The throb in her shoulder rose from nowhere, a bone wearying ache which deflated her chest and made the burns pale into insignificance on her pain scale. With the pressure gone from her larynx she gasped humidity soaked air and felt it catch in her chest. Shock locked the release valve in her lungs and she sucked in air on a o
ne-way track, her body forgetting to let any go. Down seemed to be the most logical direction to head and Leilah stepped back until able to slide along the wall behind her, landing in a backward sitting position which hurt more than standing.
“Mum! I’m sorry, Mum!” Fear helped Seline make the distance from her slumped position to Leilah’s side, her pupils huge in her aqua irises. She speed crawled and hurled herself to a kneeling position, Michael and his lethal weapon forgotten.
Leilah’s eyes pleaded with her daughter to leave but Seline ignored the unspoken entreaty. “She can’t breathe!” The teenager dragged at the front of Leilah’s shirt, exposing a pink lace bra and a messy hole under her collar bone. Sooty powder covered fabric and skin, melding with the seeping blood to create a dirty paste. “Dad! Help me!”
Leilah’s brave daughter switched into capable woman, treating her mother as though she were a damaged equine in her care, assessing and appraising, weighing up her options and making split decisions. She cupped her hands either side of Leilah’s nose and mouth, leaning across Leilah and pressing. “Breathe into my hands, Mum. Forget everything else. You’re hyperventilating so slow it down and concentrate. Breathe through your nose only.”
I’m not dying. The release of the lock in her chest brought the realisation and relief shuddered through Leilah’s body. She put her energy into breathing through her nose, focussing on the lock in her chest wall. Each breath inhaled as a grunt and exhaled as a whine and embarrassment made its mark on Leilah’s skin as she attributed the awful noise to herself.
Seline removed her hands and Leilah noticed the tremor in them as she sucked in a calmer breath. “Sorry,” she gasped, seeing a tear bud beneath her daughter’s left eye and plunge down her pale cheek. “I’ll be ok.” Her ears still rung with the aftershock from the blast and she noticed Michael chewing at a hang nail on his thumb, his eyes darting left and right. She nudged her daughter as Seline wadded up her cardigan and pressed it against Leilah’s shoulder. “Go,” she breathed.
