Already Dead (33 page)

Jax listened. Where had it come from: the gravel on the parking pad? She hadn't seen the other side of the shed up close – maybe there was gravel there, too.

She took three fast steps to the door, aware of the scuffle of dirt under her own shoes, pressed her back to the timber, glanced both ways – saw her shadow. Black on the ground and stretching towards the shaded side of the barn. If she went that way, he'd see it before she got to the corner. If she went for the other side and he was waiting, he could shoot before she could swing the shovel. Where was the fucking chopper?

Then she heard the sound again. Shaded side. Small stones shuffling. He was limping before, maybe it was worse. Treading carefully, she moved away, across the front of the shed, around the corner, pausing, straining to hear. Then it wasn't a limp she heard. It was the distant rumble of a helicopter.

The chopper was coming. So was Hugh.

The grass was thicker this side of the barn, the western sun blinding, scorching. She moved along the timber, stopped at the far corner, ducked her head around before
making the turn. She assumed Hugh was doing the same as her – hiding and walking around. Now what? Round and round until the chopper arrived? Make a run for the bush?

She gripped the shovel in both hands and made a lunging start for the trees.

Five steps. The shot came from behind, close enough for her to hear the
fzzzt
as it passed her ear. She turned and bolted back to the western side of the shed. Hit the wall with a thud, more concerned about not getting shot than letting him know where she was.

The rumble from the chopper engine was louder now. She looked up, saw it high above the bush on the opposite side of the paddock, guessed it was still minutes away. Hugh was closer. He had a gun, she had a spade. She wiped at blood under her nose, licked dry lips, cleared her throat.

‘Hey, Talbotson. It's the police,' she shouted, louder than she thought she could, the sound carrying into the open field.

There was no answer.

‘They know we're here. I told them where to go.'

Silence.

‘There'll be cars here, too. We'll hear the sirens soon.' She glanced both ways, checked she was still alone. She could hear the beat of rotor blades over the engine rumble now. ‘I'm not going to die out here, Talbotson. Not for a fucking phone.'

The chopper was beyond the clearing further down the slope, dropping, turning, its front window looking back at the barn. Would they see her against mottled lines of timber? From that angle, they wouldn't have a view of Hugh on the other side. She wanted to run out, wave her
arms, knew it might get her shot. From that angle, Hugh could do it unseen, slip back into the bush and disappear.

‘That's them, Talbotson,' she yelled. ‘They've found us. You're not going to shoot me in front of the cops. This is over. I'm walking out to them.'

But she turned the other way, headed down the length of the barn and along it short, rear end.

With a quick out and back with her head, she saw the block of shade that marked the parking pad. Hugh was where she'd hoped – at the far corner, not watching helplessly while the chopper found a place to land, not preparing to make a run for it. He had the gun gripped in both hands, held high and ready to aim.

They won't stop
, Brendan had shouted.
They're trained for it, it's their job.

Hugh had stabbed Nina and tossed her body off a cliff. He'd hounded and threatened Brendan to his death, then played nice with Kate and Scotty. He'd spun lies for Jax with a smile on his face. Forced her here at gunpoint without a hint of remorse about killing her.

It was more than a job now, though. She'd put the pieces together – him and Nina and Brendan. He wasn't just cleaning up for ‘the boss', he was making sure Jax couldn't tell anyone. Possibly it was even more personal than that. She was a civilian and she'd driven him into a tree, made him come after her – it had to piss him off. How long would he wait for her to appear? How long before he realised she'd gone the other way?

Not long, was her guess.

A wind had picked up from the force of the rotors, the engine noise too loud for anything but raised voices. Not that she wanted to talk anymore. She wanted to live – and
she was dead if she stayed where she was. She had to move fast, act without hesitation.

Gripping the shovel like a baseball bat, she ran at Hugh. Was still paces away when he heard her, started to turn, gun coming with him.

She lunged, swinging hard, pain rocketing through her chest. The shovel blade caught him across the side of his face as he dodged. His head hit the timber with a sickening thump. His body followed and dropped to the gravel.

For a second, Jax was held to the spot by panic and shock. Horror at the blood streaming from his nose, at what she'd done. Then he moved. A knee curling up, dazed, protective. The gun was still in his hand. She stepped forward, kicked it so hard she almost lost balance. The weapon skittered into the sunlight.

Then he was swearing, spitting gobs of blood, rolling onto his back. Not dead. Not even unconscious.

She stumbled more than ran for the pistol. Slid as she reached for it, landed on her arse as she closed her fist around its grip. Hugh was standing when she lifted her eyes. His face and shirt were streaked with blood, one hand on the shed for support – and he was smiling.

‘You're something else, Miranda,' he called. ‘Who the fuck would've picked it?'

It was her turn to keep quiet and point the gun.

‘What are you going to do now?' He left the barn and the shade, took a few faltering steps towards her. ‘Shoot me?'

She straightened her arms. ‘If I have to.'

He spat blood, chuckled. ‘It's not like the movies. You don't just point and shoot and the bad guy dies.'

She'd fired rifles and her dad's shotgun. She'd aimed first. There was recoil and noise. And the information
bank in her head told her the target needed to be close for a pistol to hit its marks. Ten metres might be okay. Five would be better. She tightened her trembling hands. ‘Thanks for the advice.'

He lifted a hand to his brow, shielding the glare, checking for the chopper. Jax had her back to it, could hear it was still in the air. Not so loud now. It was leaving?

‘We could come to an arrangement,' he called. ‘You give me the gun now and I won't shoot you.'

‘You can't shoot me if I keep it.'

‘You won't keep it. You'll miss and I'll take it from you and if it happens like that, I'll shoot you in the head and spread your brains around this fucking paddock. So what do you say?' He smiled, like he had in the car. Amused, entertained.

She wanted to be sick. ‘Fuck you.'

‘You've been interesting, Miranda. It'll be a shame to kill you.'

Her heart pounded like a gong, blood thumped in her ears. She took her eyes off his grin as he limped forward, fixed them on his torso. Powerful, broad, muscular – a bigger target than his head.

‘Don't wait to shoot,' he called. ‘You'll need a few goes.'

But she did. Until he was almost on her. ‘
Stop!
'

He laughed.

She pulled the trigger. Recoil hammered through her arms, swinging them upwards. He pitched sideways, rocked back, kept coming. She fired again. He went down this time. Howling, grabbing at his thigh, bright blood running through his fingers. Another blast. And another – her hands shaking too hard to hit anything but clean air.

Then, scrambling in the dirt, clambering to her feet, she staggered, stumbled. Getting away, tripping, gasping, on the ground again. Swung her head. Hugh was on his side, writhing, pulling at his leg. Christ, she shot him.

Bile rushed to her throat, making her gag.
Get up, Jax. He's not dead. Move!
She got to her haunches, searched the sky. The chopper was skirting away over the trees, its back to her like it'd seen enough. Behind her, Hugh rolled to his side, hoisted himself up. No.
No
.

She was on the rutted track, sobbing now, bent over to stop the rushing dizziness. If she fell and didn't get up, if he got to her … She stopped, swayed, hurled the weapon high and wide, out into the field. The momentum unbalanced her. The bare earth hit her shoulder hard. Rattled in her head.

Something gave in her chest. Small sips of air were all she could manage. Her vision swam, blurred. There was hissing in her ears.

God, no, not like this. Not with the answers locked in her head.

 

Rushing, thudding foot-beats.

Movement beside her. She wanted to flinch. Nothing happened.

A word hissed – hard, urgent: ‘Jax!'

Hot fingers jammed hard under her jaw, cutting off her breath.

Same voice, shouting, ‘I've got a pulse.' A hand covered her forehead – a lighter touch, a little shaky. ‘Jax, hold on.'

She forced an eye open, saw Aiden above her. He was breathing hard, a sheen of sweat on his face, and
something in his eyes she'd never seen before – fear. It made panic tighten to a fist in her chest. She gasped, wanted to run.

A palm on her shoulder held her in place. ‘Don't move.'

‘Where is he?'

Aiden didn't try to shield her. He patted her down, searching for injuries.

‘I shot him,' she said.

‘It's okay. He's down.' But Aiden's eyes were still frantic.

‘What? What is it?'

‘Keep still, Jax. The ambulance is two minutes away.'

Her chest hurt. Her shoulder, her head. ‘Is it bad? Am I …?'

‘No, Jax. No, it's okay. You're okay. I got here. I found you. You're going to be …' He didn't finish, just swung his face away, a muscle flexing in the side of his jaw.

It wasn't Hugh, it was Aiden. He'd thought he was too late. She stretched fingers towards him, caught his sleeve. ‘I found the field. I got here.'

Something softer was in his gaze when he looked back. ‘You did great, Jax.'

‘The chopper left.'

‘It couldn't land in the field. It's down on the road.'

She swallowed. ‘I didn't miss him.'

‘Yeah, you made a real mess of him.'

‘Is he dead?'

‘No, but he's not going anywhere.'

‘Good. He killed Nina Torrence.'

The muscle in Aiden's jaw flexed again. ‘I know that now. I'm sorry I didn't know sooner.'

She should've trusted him. She should've called him back. ‘Kate? Is Kate okay?'

‘She thought Talbotson was collecting the mobile from you. I assumed he was planning to come back without you or the phone.'

‘He didn't hurt her?'

‘No.'

Jax licked her lips, swallowed at the dryness in her throat. ‘Brendan wrote a note. I found it.'

‘Your friend told me.'

Deanne. He'd been to the house. ‘It's gone. Hugh tore it up, threw it away, but I took a photo. I saved it.' On her phone, to the internet, with passwords only she knew. ‘It's on my phone. In my pocket. You need to see it.' She tried to reach around, winced at the pain.

He cupped a hand to her cheek. ‘Shhh, it's okay.'

‘No, it's not. Kate has to see it.' Jax tugged on his wrist. ‘It's in my pocket.'

His head lifted as footsteps approached.

‘Please, Aiden.'

He watched her as two ambulance officers walked into her view. ‘We've got this now,' one said.

‘Two seconds,' Aiden told them. He reached around Jax, found her pocket and pulled the phone.

‘Brendan knew,' Jax said. ‘He left Nina with Hugh. He thought it was his fault.' Her voice was little more than air. ‘It's what was in his head. It makes sense now. I have to tell you …' She followed Aiden with her eyes as he moved to one side.

‘You're going to be okay, Jax. You can tell me later.'

‘No, I need to tell you now. No more questions, just the answers.'

An ambulance officer felt for her pulse. Her head wound was inspected, equipment was retrieved from somewhere,
Aiden was shoved out of the way. She couldn't see him. ‘Are you still there?'

His voice was in her ear. ‘Right here.'

She tried to look at him. Someone stopped her with a hand to her cheek. ‘You need to hold your head still, Miranda.'

She needed to say it, all of it, before concussion or drugs wiped it from her memory. ‘Aiden, it was real.' She held out a hand. ‘I have to tell you. For Kate. Don't go. You have to make sure she knows.'

A hand closed around hers. ‘I'm not going anywhere, Jax. I just found you.'

Jax stood at the railing, looked out at the beach and took a deep breath of the humid, salt-laced breeze, enjoying a moment away from the noise in the bar.

She thought Brendan Walsh would be okay with the glasses being raised at The Beach House in his memory. He'd wanted his family to be proud of him – and today, his wife and son were here with his friends, remembering the man he was, not the one Jax met on the motorway.

Brendan had been ready to use a gun so Jax figured he'd be okay with the two bullet holes she'd put in Hugh Talbotson. Possibly more okay if she'd killed him, considering the threats to Kate and Scotty, but then she'd have to live with that.

‘Miranda?'

She turned to the voice at the door, smiled. Brendan's army friend Marty had organised the wake. With Brendan's last photo in mind – he and Scotty at the beach – Jax had suggested The Beach House with its deck overlooking the surf.

‘I'm heading off now,' Marty said. ‘Just wanted to say it was good to meet you. Brendan picked the right car to get into.'

Jax made a face as she touched the tender skin in her hairline. ‘I might debate that point.'

‘You did a good thing.' Marty kissed her cheek. ‘I'll email you those names for your article. And don't hide the bruises, they make you look tough. I'd think twice before I took you on.'

‘Thanks, I think.'

He grinned, turned to leave, then paused. ‘By the way, your cop friend just arrived. He was looking for you.'

She nodded and watched through the windows as Aiden and Detective Constable Suzanne May made their way through the group to Kate. It was nice they managed to get here.

Jax hadn't seen Aiden since leaving hospital a week ago. It wasn't avoidance on her part – after two brushes with death, a couple of days with head-reeling concussion, cracked ribs, five stiches in her hairline, a face like a bruised balloon and a dozen minor scrapes, she was more than ready to stay home and out of sight for a while. And Aiden had plenty of work to keep him going. It was why he didn't make it to the funeral.

Zoe had needed her mother at home, too. Jax had succeeded at keeping the gritty details of the incident with Brendan from her daughter, but it was a different story when Hugh was behind the gun. When Aiden realised Jax was missing, he sent uniformed police to the house in case they were needed, and there'd been frantic phone calls and frightened tears from Tilda and Deanne, both of them blaming themselves for letting Jax leave. She'd ended up in hospital looking like Frankenstein's monster – and Zoe didn't want to let her out of her sight.

Inside The Beach House, Kate pointed Jax out to Aiden, then held up a hand and made him wait while she walked to the door. ‘You okay out here, Jax?'

The connection Jax had felt for Kate wasn't just about dead husbands and unexplained deaths. Brendan's wife had her answers now and Jax still liked her. Kate had been to the house twice – once with Scotty, who'd taken one of Zoe's dolls apart. The kids had milkshakes and played; Jax and Kate shared coffee, tears and a few laughs, and it felt like the friendship Jax had sensed developing a week and a half before. Today was the funeral and wake for Kate's husband and they were looking out for each other.

‘Just enjoying the breeze,' Jax told her.

‘Aiden has news for us.'

‘Tell him to bring a drink, I might have questions.'

He carried three onto the deck, passed one to Kate, held the other out to Jax and waited for her eyes to meet his before he released his hold.

‘I like the haircut,' he said.

Jax ran a hand over her new, short crop. She'd been overdue for a trim before but the stitches in her hairline had forced a makeover. ‘It was the only way to disguise the bald patch in my fringe. I'm still getting used to it.'

‘I think it's a keeper. How are the ribs?'

‘Getting there, like my face.'

He didn't comment, just let his gaze decide for him – pale irises sliding across the jagged pink line where the stitches had been and the bruising that coloured her eye socket. Then the clear green of her untouched eye. The crease in her cheek from a small smile. Her mouth. Reading, seeing, the way he always did it. She wondered what he saw there this time: the healing or the horror that came before it.
A victim or a survivor – or the peace that had arrived since she'd found some answers.

‘So, ah …' Kate glanced back and forth between them as though she wasn't sure if she should interrupt. ‘What's your news, Aiden?'

He took another second to refocus. ‘I was at the hearing this morning. Hugh Talbotson was remanded in custody. His lawyer didn't enter a plea.'

A day and a half after Jax shot him and while he was hooked to drips and oxygen, Hugh was officially charged with a string of offences in relation to the abduction and attempted murder of Miranda Jack. Other charges were being considered, involving the destruction of evidence and conspiracy to murder, but the police were holding off on that for the moment.

‘Bastard,' Kate said.

‘Was he in court?' Jax asked.

‘Yeah, he was there,' Aiden said. ‘In a wheelchair and looking like he'd been dragged from a coffin, but the judge deemed him well enough to be transferred to the prison hospital.'

Jax's first bullet shattered Hugh's collarbone, the second nicked an artery in his thigh. He would've bled to death in the paddock if Aiden and a convoy of police hadn't been two minutes down the road. Not bad considering she'd been aiming for Hugh's torso, hadn't fired a gun in years and had just driven into a tree. It helped that she'd waited until he was almost on top of her. Any further away and the bullets would've gone high or wide – and she'd be dead.

‘I hope he gets a staph infection and rots,' Kate said.

Jax gave Kate's shoulder a brief rub. Death and deception were a tough mix to deal with.

‘That's not all.' Aiden aimed a look in Jax's direction. ‘And this is off the record. It's just for the two of you.'

Jax mimed a zipper across her lips. ‘Done.'

‘I was informed today that a task force is being set up to investigate a connection between the Nina Torrence murder and Dominic Escott.'

It seemed obvious to Jax that Escott was involved. Brendan had written
the boss was getting paranoid
and
the boss had the cash
. Her guess was that Nina never saw him after the party, that the decision to have her killed was already made when Brendan left her with Hugh. It had to be why Hugh was there for ‘the drop'. Jax's photos of Brendan's letter could be used as evidence – but Brendan hadn't named him and conjecture didn't hold up in court. A task force was good news.

‘Was it Nina's sister's claims?' Jax asked.

Alison Meyers went public with Nina's affair a week after the murder. She confirmed that Nina and Escott had been in a relationship for ten years, that he and Nina stayed with Alison and her family at their holiday home on numerous occasions, and he was the father of Nina's ten-week foetus. None of which implicated Escott as a killer or conspirator. Except Alison also claimed that when she talked to her sister the morning before the murder, Nina told her she was meeting Escott later in the day to announce her pregnancy, and that this time he ‘wouldn't dare' not leave his wife. It wasn't proof of Escott's involvement but it raised questions about motive and what Nina had over him.

‘Not just Alison,' Aiden said. ‘A certain state government MP allegedly made a couple of quiet calls to police headquarters suggesting his son was the victim of a
vendetta and it might prove embarrassing for the police if it was taken seriously.' He raised one eyebrow, smiled a little. ‘Cops don't like being told what not to investigate.'

David Escott might have difficulty keeping anything quiet, Jax thought, if the rumours were right about an Independent Commission Against Corruption inquiry finally getting off the ground.

Hugh's involvement in Nina's murder was still under investigation. He was being as noncommittal with the cops as he'd been with Jax, but the police were building a case, some of which included Jax's statement about her encounter with him and the photos of Brendan's note. It might be a while before charges were laid but Hugh wasn't going anywhere.

Maybe a conviction for that murder would help to quell some of Kate's anger – it was the reason Brendan was dead.

For Jax, there were pieces of the Brendan puzzle that would only ever be conjecture: the missiles and helicopter he'd worried about, the phone hang-ups to Kate, how he got the gun, why he was the last-minute choice of bodyguard for Nina that night. But just knowing the rest had been enough to calm the loud, compulsive circuit of questions in her head. Even the ones about Nick. The psychologist she was seeing suggested the obsessiveness was more about Jax than her husband, the theory being that her search for answers was a search for herself – the person she was without Nick. And not getting anywhere made her feel like a failure without him.

Okay, the theory had merit – but Jax still had questions. She was Miranda Jack: what was the point without them?

There were more people on the deck now and Kate was kissing cheeks and calling Jax over. Aiden caught her elbow as she started to move.

‘Are you staying long?' he asked.

‘No. I promised Zoe I'd be home to say goodnight. Are you going back to work?'

‘I'm done for the day. Thought I could walk you to your car. I parked behind you.'

‘Think I might get lost?'

‘Can't trust you walking the streets on your own.'

The last time she'd been out on her own, he'd needed a helicopter to find her. The last time he'd walked her to her car, it had been … complicated, messy. According to Tilda, it could be like that with handsome men. ‘I won't leave without saying goodbye.'

She met more of Brendan's army mates. Kate introduced her to Anna, the best friend who'd been in Wales, telling them she wanted to have them both over for lunch sometime soon. Suzanne May cornered Jax at the bar, wanting to know what her senior colleague was like in his uni days. Jax still didn't remember Aiden back then – either testament to his surveillance skills or evidence of his minimal partying – but she spun a yarn about smart girls lining up for the only hot guy on campus who could really, seriously discuss Freud. Aiden could untangle that one.

Half an hour later, she found him on the deck watching the surf. Joining him at the railing, she followed a crest of foam as it made its way to the shore. As soon as her ribs could handle it, she was taking a plunge out there – she wanted to, for herself and Zoe. ‘Time for that walk?'

‘Ready when you are.' He smiled but there was something serious in his eyes.

It felt the same as it had both times before – hot, humid, Aiden at her side. Except she wasn't frightened or neurotic
this time. Maybe it would lead to better choices, or a smoother handling of the aftermath.

‘Would you have a problem being included in a story about Brendan Walsh?' she asked.

‘I thought your article was about PTSD.'

‘It is. I'm not talking about that. I got a call from a publisher yesterday – she asked if I was interested in writing a book.'

‘Are you?'

‘Yes, I am.'

It was no surprise the publisher had been able to track her down. The media had gone nuts with rumour and theories on what had actually happened to put Jax in a car with two different gunmen in less than a week. The only upside was that she'd lost her previous title and was now referred to as ‘motorway carjack victim, Miranda Jack'.

She'd made a start on the feature she'd pitched to Russell – a long piece about soldiers and the invisible injuries many bring home, and the far-reaching cost of their pain. It felt like the right thing to do for Brendan: information instead of another replay. The idea of a book, though, had lit a flame she thought was extinguished. A desire to write, really write; to bury herself in words and meaning, to bring some depth and truth to Brendan.

‘Can I quote you?' she asked Aiden as she stopped beside her car.

He made like he was thinking about it. ‘Only the good stuff.'

‘That'll limit me to a couple of lines.'

‘Gee, thanks.' He shucked her on the shoulder.

It felt nice, fun, relaxed. She needed more of that. ‘About the last time we did this beside my car …'

‘Hmm?'

‘Who did you call as I was leaving?'

He thought for a second. ‘Suzanne May.'

‘You told your detective constable you kissed me?'

‘No, I told her to run Hugh Talbotson's name through the computer.'

‘Oh. Good call.' He'd told her the rest while he was sitting beside her hospital bed late on the night she was admitted – and how assumptions and separate investigations had kept the connections hidden between Brendan and Nina and Hugh.

Aiden hadn't known about Brendan's job as Nina's bodyguard until Kate told him and he'd called the Homicide unit in Sydney afterwards with the information. There was a discussion about the dates of Christmas parties he'd attended with her and the more recent timeframes and crime scenes. There'd been nothing to link Brendan's event to Nina's murder: she was killed in the early hours of Sunday and the carjacking was a day and a half later on the other side of the city. And Kate said Brendan had only done a few shifts for Nina Torrence; a doctor claimed he suffered a psychotic break, and Brendan never mentioned the names Nina or Hugh. There'd been no reason to assume his ‘guns and missiles' and people wanting to pick him off had anything to do with the death of a socialite solicitor.

Other pieces of the puzzle also misled detectives on both cases. The extra shift Brendan mentioned to Kate was presumed to be with Secure Force, which had been trying to crack down on assignment-swapping between staff. The Homicide unit looked in other directions for the man who drove Nina to the party. The indistinct image of
Brendan taken that night hadn't been singled out by police or shown to Aiden, who might have recognised him.