A Time to Run (13 page)

‘Nothing to help us right now,' Janine said. ‘But he loves killing things, doesn't he?'

Bill nodded his agreement, and returned the photos to the box. They completed the search, even checking the inside of the curtain rails and looking for loose carpet corners.

The spare bedroom was uninteresting. In the kitchen, another bong. And that was it – nothing else of interest.

‘We need to find his ute,' Janine said, as they walked out of the bedroom.

Jake motioned for them to go out to the double garage, connected to the house by an internal door. There were tools and junk stacked around the sides, with room for one car in the middle.

‘There's so much junk in here, but most of it has dust on it and looks like it hasn't been disturbed for a while. The workbench looks well used. I found gun oil and a couple of rounds of ammo, .22s. There are more knives, and some sharpening tools. It also looks like he has a dirt bike. There's an old helmet and tyre. No sign of the bike,' Jake reported.

‘He has a homemade canopy on the back of his ute. Maybe he packs the bike under there. Would something like that fit in the back of a ute?' Janine queried. She was thinking out loud more than anything else, but it seemed to make sense.

Jake nodded. ‘It's possible. Neighbours might be able to help on that. If he was riding a bike around or revving it up in here, the old bird from over the road would probably know.'

‘Anything else of interest?' Janine asked.

‘Yep. The other thing I found was some maps. Quite a lot of them, some of them Google Maps printouts. They seem to be of state forests and national parks through the southeast corner. There's a stack of them from different locations. We'll have to take a closer look, to see what matches or joins up. Also if there's any specific circles or crosses.'

‘OK, great,' Janine said. ‘Get Geoff to photograph them and we'll seize all the maps and take a closer look back at the office.'

Janine and Bill, with Bernard in tow, went back through the house, talking to their colleagues, checking that nothing else had been found in any of the rooms or the backyard.

‘If there's anything else of interest, it's well hidden,' Bill said. ‘I don't think he brought Sammi into the house.'

‘I agree,' said Janine. ‘We're looking for a second location. The answer may be in those maps.'

Saturday 1:29 pm

Out of helplessness and guilt, and on the spur of the moment, Candy had driven to Angel's Crossing. But now, sitting outside Sammi and Gavin's house, she didn't know why she had come or what she wanted to say. She had been thinking about the things that Sammi had said about Gavin – about how they fitted together, the trust between them. Assuming he felt the same way about her, he must be lost and distraught not knowing where she was or why she had disappeared. She had thought Gavin might appreciate her driving out. He would see that she cared about Sammi too and they might draw comfort from each other. Now that she was actually here, it didn't seem like such a good idea anymore.

She turned off the engine. Without the air-conditioning, the interior heated up quickly in the afternoon sun as she tried to work up the courage to leave the sanctuary of the vehicle. Sweat started to prickle under her arms and she could smell the pungent stench of stale alcohol as last night's drinking session worked its way out of her pores. This had been a mistake. She shouldn't have come. She was probably still drunk now. She was no help. Worse than no help – she was a contributing factor. She should have gone home with Sammi. None of this would have happened if she had just gone home with Sammi.

Candy didn't notice when the front door opened. She only caught a movement out of the corner of her eye when Gavin was standing at her window. He was up so close, she couldn't open her door without hitting him and she couldn't wind down the electric window without the motor running. She looked up through the glass at him with apprehension.

Gavin grabbed the handle and wrenched open the door.

‘You!' he yelled. Little flecks of spittle shot out with the word.

Candy looked down, unable to meet his blazing eyes.

‘You've got a nerve, showing up here,' he blasted.

‘I'm sorry,' she stammered. She really was, but the little words sounded hollow and pointless.

‘Sorry's not going to fucking find Sammi, is it?' Gavin yelled.

Candy bit her lip. She didn't want to cry, but the first sob welled up inside her. Gavin must have seen the heave of her chest as she struggled to keep the tears inside. He stepped back and turned to the side. He took a deep breath and when he spoke next, the anger was under control. The irritation and dislike were still obvious.

‘What are you doing here?' he asked, shaking his head a little.

‘I just wanted to say sorry. That I'm worried and scared and never ever meant for anything like this to happen. Sammi was going to catch a taxi straight home. I don't know what went wrong.' She hung her head. ‘I'm sorry. It doesn't mean much but I wanted to say it. To you.'

Gavin shrugged. ‘OK, you've said it. You can go now.' His tone had only softened slightly.

Candy started to say ‘sorry' again, but stopped herself. She couldn't think of anything else. She started the car, pulled the door shut and drove slowly away. She glanced into the rear-vision mirror. Gavin was already at his front door, disappearing into the house.

Candy drove just far enough so that Gavin wouldn't be able to see her car anymore. Then she pulled up on the side of the road and bawled.

Saturday 1:32 pm

Sammi had tucked herself behind a big tree in some thick brush. She could look through the branches to the creek. The barman wouldn't yet realise she had parted ways with his tracking device, wouldn't be looking for her anywhere except the creek. Despite this, Sammi could still feel her body tremble as she forced herself to stay and watch rather than turn and run. She was far enough from the creek to give herself a head start if he looked like he was coming for her. The sound of the motorbike, intended to torment her, had now become useful. She listened for his approach.

As she crouched and waited, she had a brainwave. The motorbike was still a little way off. The slow, taunting chug of the engine would get much louder before he was close enough to see. She dashed back to the creek, and bent down to scoop up a mouthful of water. She retreated back to her hiding spot behind the tree and swept the leaves and twigs away to bare a patch of earth. She spat the water onto the dirt and mixed it through with her fingers. She then rubbed the mud on her face and arms. She couldn't tell what her face looked like, but it seemed to work on her arms, dulling her pale skin. She tried the same on the red shorts too, wiping muddy fingers down the front. Her shirt was already stained with sweat and dirt and she added some brown patches. Anything was better than nothing.

He didn't ride up to the creek bank. Sammi couldn't see him – he was obscured by the undergrowth – but she heard the drone of the motorbike move away from her as he headed down the creek. If she couldn't see him, he wouldn't be able to see her. Although she knew that made sense, she was terrified he might somehow spot her. She peered around the tree she was hiding behind and when there was no sign of the motorbike slowing or stopping, she carefully started moving downstream. She thought of her little boat, hoping it was still afloat. The further they got from the junction where her path had met the creek, the safer it would be for her.

Both kept going for about ten minutes, the hunter now in the lead, oblivious to his prey creeping along behind him. Then the motorbike stopped. Sammi immediately dropped to the ground and combat-crawled behind a bush. She wriggled around until she had a fairly clear view down the creek. Had her boat snagged on something or sunk? She still couldn't see the barman.

‘Saaaaa-
man
-tha!'

Her heart stopped at the sound of her name on his lips. Had he seen her? No, he was teasing again, like he had the last time he had caught up with her.

‘Is the water cold?' he called.

Good, he thought she was in the creek. Sammi strained to make out the words.

‘Have you had fun? I have. But it's getting late now. The game is over.'

With those words, the barman appeared in view, moving to the creek bank. Sammi shuddered as she saw the hunting knife in his hand. The dog was next to him, following its master.

The barman stopped and looked around. Sammi pressed herself flat on the ground. She heard him talking again, quieter now. She guessed he was giving the dog some sort of command. She raised her head slowly, just enough to peek through the leaves. He had something in his hand – a phone, maybe? He was studying it intently. The dog moved around him, sniffing here and there. Now the barman came right to the edge of the creek, his head swivelling back and forth, searching.

It took him a moment, but then he had her boat in his hand. He fished his device out. He cursed loudly enough for Sammi to hear. He smashed the bark to the ground, and kicked at the pieces. He gave one long whistle as he straddled the motorbike. The dog came running and only just had enough time to jump on to the tray at the back. The barman didn't stop to look around any further. He revved the motorbike loudly and rode off at high speed.

He was right. The game was over. But Sammi had won.

Sammi realised she was holding her breath. She exhaled loudly, hardly daring to believe her plan had worked. Sure enough, the sound of the bike was getting further away and at speed. Sammi jumped to her feet and started to run. Once again, adrenaline coursed through her body, making her tingle right down to her toes. Her heart was pounding but a sense of relief and reprieve started to soak through the fear.

It had worked: he was headed upstream, away from her. His Plan A had failed, and he had no Plan B. He never considered the possibility that she might find the device. He was not a hunter, he had simply followed the blips on a screen to find where she was. That increased her chances right now. If he needed to cheat to hunt her down, surely that meant he couldn't rely on his own tracking skills?

What would his next move be? Sammi doubted that he would just turn his back on her and go home. There was too much at stake for that. If she survived and found help, he would spend the rest of his life behind bars. She knew who he was and the crimes he had committed. It was her life against his now.

The reprieve put wings on her feet. She stopped stumbling and staggering through the bush. Her goal was clear now – to put as much distance between herself and the killer. Every step away from the drone of the motorbike was a step towards safety. She leapt over fallen logs and hurdled low bushes. The weariness and the pain were momentarily forgotten. Maybe she could survive this nightmare.

Saturday 4:15 pm

Gavin felt useless. There was nothing he could do, but how could he do nothing? He wanted to sit in the police station, eavesdrop on every phone conversation, find out what they knew, because they weren't telling him everything. He guessed they were trying to protect him, only giving him facts, not speculation if there was nothing to back it up. But he was desperate for any scrap of information so he could weigh it up and evaluate for himself.

He knew he was part victim, part suspect.

And he wasn't sure he'd be welcome at the station right now. In his mind, the dynamic had changed. Sammi's colleagues, people he had considered friends, might think the worst of him.

Damn that fight they had before she left. It had been meaningless and stupid, but now tinged everything else with its anger and innuendo. More than that, Gavin was scared that those harsh words yelled in anger might be the last he ever said to the woman he loved.

A phone call made all the difference. He grabbed his mobile on the second ring. Tom was at the other end.

‘Mate, barbecue and beers at the station. Do you need a lift?'

Gavin hesitated. ‘Really? I'm invited?' he asked.

‘Gavin, mate, you're one of the crew,' Tom replied.

‘OK. Thanks. I'll find my own way down,' Gavin replied, pleased not just for the diversion, but also to be included.

He showered quickly and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. He grabbed a jacket on the way out. It was meant to be cold tonight.

It was only a couple of minutes' drive to the station and he felt apprehensive the whole way. He could no longer tell how much of the anxiety he felt was from Sammi going missing and how much was from the situation he'd been thrust into. As soon as he walked up to the back of the barracks, he was greeted and slapped on the back by half a dozen people, and the tension in his chest dissipated a little. Shane had been right – they were on his side.

It was a sombre and muted affair, compared with what usually took place. The barbecue at the back of the barracks, with the drink fridge handy, had hosted many of these types of get-togethers. Sometimes they were planned in advance, catered for by the wife of one of the sergeants and paid for by the station social club. Sometimes, like today, they were impromptu gatherings, where the station staff just needed to be together. If there was a major incident, like a fatal accident or a house fire, they would call it a ‘debrief' and talk while they drank.

It wasn't just Gavin who missed Sammi. The thought that something evil might have happened to her drew them together. How could anything bad happen if they could still have a drink and a snag like any other night?

These were the people who knew the answer to ‘What if?' These were the people who had seen the bad, the mad and the evil. Where any other person might say ‘that will never happen', police could often say, ‘I've seen it.'

Staff slowly filtered in, like moths drawn to the light. It was a family affair – it always was. Wives, husbands, partners and children all came along. Everybody knew Sammi. The evening crew drifted over from the station, police radios turned on and clipped onto their belts.