Blood Ties (33 page)

Grae stirred to my left and stood up groggily, staggering towards me. I kicked up at him blindly while I kept my eye on Red. I hit Grae in the chin, slamming his bottom jaw against the other, his teeth pushing into his upper lip. Blood flowed from his mouth and he fell backwards, crying in agony.

That left Red and me facing each other. I fumbled at my utility belt and pulled out my gun, pointing it at him.

“You better piss off and take your relatives with you before I shoot you,” I warned, only a small tremor in my voice betraying my fear. I raised my left hand to wipe the blood free of my right eye again.

“You think I’m scared of your little girl cop gun, Tessie?” he laughed, advancing on me. “You couldn’t shoot Jakey’s favourite brother, could you, lovely?”

“You’re right,” I said, shoulders sinking, the life sucked out of me. “What was I thinking?”

I made as if to re-holster my gun, then quickly raised it again and deliberately shot him in the upper left arm. He screamed in pain, clutching the bleeding wound, and without another word, I charged him, elbow out in front, head down. I knocked him backwards but not over, and he smashed into the filing cabinets, forcing the end one, which had already been leaning precariously, to tumble sideways crashing into the wall. He launched back at me and thumped the gun from my hand where it hit the wall and landed in the corner, behind the fallen cabinet. We both tried to stop the other one going for it, grasping each other’s upper arms and struggling desperately back and forth. I let go with one hand briefly to reach for my baton, but he knocked it out of my hand with his fist the second I freed it from my belt.

We might have scuffled like that together for the rest of the day, eyes locked in battle. I let go of one of his arms to free my hand to viciously poke my index finger into the bullet wound on his upper left arm. He screamed in agony and reached for my throat with his free hand. I choked while he screamed.

The counter bell went off. “Mail,” yelled a booming and very welcome voice.

“
Joanna!
” I screamed out in desperation. “Go for help! I need help! Get Abe!”

“Tessie? Are you okay?” she yelled back with concern.

“No . . .” I spluttered. Disgusted at myself, I wiggled my finger around in Red’s bullet wound, causing him maximum pain. Howling like a wounded animal, he tried to shove me out of the way and scrabble for my gun. I pushed his head down towards the floor with my hand on the back of his head and raised my knee to smash into his chin.

“Tess?” called out Joanna again anxiously. “What’s going on back there?”

“Fucking bitch,” Red groaned and pushed me harder backwards until I stumbled over the fallen computer, taking the both of us down. We were making such a racket that Joanna climbed over the counter to investigate.

She was a sight for sore eyes in a lovely pale blue twin set and crisp white blouse with size twelve navy blue court shoes. All this was topped with a strand of pearls, a little strained by the girth of Joanna’s muscular neck, for sure, but still tasteful. I wondered briefly even as I struggled against Red if she was deliberately mimicking Mrs Villiers’ dress sense.

“Get off her,” Joanna said in a cold voice.

“Make me, freak,” Red wheezed with exertion as I clutched my hands around his neck and he feebly punched me in the stomach with his bleeding arm. So Joanna did, with a hard right hook to the chin that sorted out a weakened Red straight away. He fell to the floor, while I lunged to secure my gun. I covered the four Bycrafts with my weapon and they cut their losses, Red’s three injured relatives dragging him out the back door. I ran over to lock it immediately when they left, running to the front to lock that door as well. I returned to the back room and hugged Joanna fiercely, not able to speak with emotion.

“Oh Tessie, look at you, love. They’ve gone to town on you,” she said with shocked sympathy. “Where’s Sergeant Maguire?”

“Big Town,” I managed to say through my busted lip. I was feeling very fragile and needed to sit down suddenly, my legs too wobbly to support me. Unwillingly, I sagged against Joanna and she kindly helped me to my chair.

“I’m going to ring him,” Joanna said, taking out her phone and shaking her head. “Geez, when I think what might have happened if I hadn’t turned up when I did.”

“
No!
” I shouted in agitation, startling her. “Please don’t ring the Sarge, Joanna. Please. He had things he wanted to do in Big Town and I’m all right now. He’s already angry with me. I don’t want to disturb him. They won’t come back now.”

“What happened, Tessie?”

“Lola Bycraft’s in the lockup.”

“What the hell? Why would you do something so . . . inflammatory?” The look on her face expressed all of my earlier misgivings.

I didn’t want to complain about the Sarge. He was trying to build a solid police team in the town and my bitching about his decisions to others would be disloyal and disunited. So I looked down at my bruised, blood-splattered knuckles and remained silent.

However, Joanna was a smart woman. “I bet it wasn’t your decision, Tessie. You know better than that.”

I didn’t respond.

She gave up. “You need a doctor. Let me take you to the prison. Jake will want to know what’s happened too.”

“I can’t leave Lola.”

“Set her free,” she suggested. “You need to see a doctor.”

“No, I’ll wait until the Sarge gets back and then I’ll go.” I remembered the Sarge’s biting words about my insubordination. “I don’t want to let Lola out without his permission. He’ll be back soon,” I assured. “But thanks so much, Joanna, for everything today. I’ll never forget your help.” I hugged her again.

“At least let me help patch you up,” she offered, concern on her face as my blood dripped gently down onto my shirt, staining its pale blue purple. “Did they injure you on your stomach or back or anywhere to cause any internal damage?”

“No, it’s all on my face. I’ll be right. You’ve got your rounds to do. People will be wanting their mail. Off you go,” I insisted firmly and ushered her from the station, suddenly needing to be alone. And when she had reluctantly departed, I relocked the front door carefully, compulsively checking both front and back doors three times before I could release the incredible tension in my shoulders.

I flew to the sink and threw up repeatedly until I had nothing left in my stomach and I was pale, breathless and shaking. I sat at the Sarge’s desk with my compact mirror open, half-heartedly trying to wipe the blood away with some wet tissues. I was a wreck, physically and emotionally. I needed . . .? I didn’t know what I needed right then. A doctor? A stiff drink? A big hug? A new job? A Tim Tam? To get the hell out of this town as soon as I could pack?

All of the above?

I sat there doing nothing, slumped in his chair, staring out of the window without seeing the view and listening to Lola Bycraft screaming out endless obscenities without registering anything she said. The station phone rang three times but I didn’t answer. My mobile rang four times but I didn’t answer that either. I was probably in shock when I look back at it, and that was how the Sarge found me when he eventually returned.

He came storming back into the station, slamming the front door and rousing me from my stupor. He was in a foul mood from not finding Miss G or the principal available to see him, berating me loudly as soon as he set foot inside for having the door locked and for not answering the phone. Banging the counter hatch closed behind him, he stamped into the back room in the middle of furiously questioning my professionalism yet again, only to pull up in horror when he saw me and the state of the office.

“Oh shit.” He stood staring in disbelief. “Tess. Are you all right? What’s happened?” He came over and hesitantly rested his hand on my shoulder.

“The Bycrafts came for Lola,” I said carefully, shrugging off his hand and standing up shakily, avoiding any eye contact. “And no, I’m not all right. I’m going home.”

“Did they get her?”

I did look at him then, eye-to-eye, unable to hide my incredible hurt and disgust at that question. Was that all the cold-hearted bastard cared about?

“No, they didn’t get her!” I spat out, spraying my blood over him, angrier than I could ever remember being in my life. “Is that what you think of me? That I’d just roll over and give the Bycrafts what they want because they roughed me up? Because I’m sleeping with one of them? Because I’m
unprofessional
?”

And I was so angry that I viciously kicked over my chair and swept a pot plant off the windowsill with my arm, its ceramic planter smashing when it landed, potting mix spilling out over the floor. That wasn’t enough – I was still furious. So I kicked one of the few good filing cabinets, leaving behind a dent so deep that it forever rendered that drawer unable to be opened.

“Tess . . .”

I stood toe-to-toe with him and screamed right up into his face. “
They didn’t get her!
Are you happy?
”

He drew back. “God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean . . .” He faltered, unsure what to say next, stunned and pitying. But I didn’t want or need his pity and with unbridled fury shoved past him to the front room. He seized my arm.

“Tess, you have to see a doctor.” His words were gentle, but his grip on my arm was iron-fast. “You need stitches in your forehead. It’s bleeding a lot. I’ll take you to the prison now.”

I struggled wildly to free myself, hurting myself all over again. But I didn’t care. I couldn’t bear for him to touch me. “Get your hands off me! I’ll drive myself. You can stay and watch Lola.”

He let go of my arm immediately, afraid I would break something as I shook him off so violently. “You can’t drive yourself. You’re too upset.”

“
Don’t you dare tell me what I am!
” I screamed at him again and then realised that I sounded hysterical. I took a couple of deep breaths, blinked away the tears that were threatening to brim over and wiped more blood from my eye with my palm, smearing it across my face and hair again. “I’ll ring Abe and ask him to take me,” I decided, more calmly.

“No, you won’t. I’ll take you. I’ll let Bycraft out now.”

“Then they’ve won, haven’t they?” I said bitterly. “And the next time we bring her in, they’ll come and do the same to me.”

His jaw was diamond-hard, his face unforgiving. “No, they won’t. They won’t get the chance.”

He turned on his heel and strode out to the lockup. I took the opportunity of his absence to retrieve my mobile and my keys from my desk drawer and left the station, heading to the carpark. I would drive myself to the doctor. I couldn’t tolerate being in his presence for one second longer.

It took three attempts to unlock the Land Rover. On my last try, with the support of my other hand, I finally managed to encourage my shaking hand to insert the key properly and open the door. As I did, Lola Bycraft stomped down the side of the station, swearing up a storm at being forced to walk home. She stopped when she saw me and stood in front of me, tiny, sun-spotted, straw-haired, wrinkled hands on her scrawny hips, laughing so much for a couple of minutes that she couldn’t breathe. The tears plopped off her face, splashing the gravel beneath us.

“My boys have done me proud today,” she gasped between laughs. “Except they should have killed you for locking me up, pig-bitch. Don’t ever think about doing it again or you won’t get off so fucking lightly next time.” And she spat on my boot and strode off down the drive towards the street. At the gate, she turned around to yell, “And I hope they all took turns to fuck you till you begged them to kill you.”

“They didn’t even get close, Lola Bycraft, you maggoty old bitch,” I yelled after her, despite the pain it caused me. “I beat the shit out of them and I’ll beat the shit out of the next bunch to come to get you too. And you know it!”

She gave me the finger with each hand, but didn’t turn around.

I climbed into the driver’s seat, the keys falling from my trembling fingers down onto the gravel. I leaned my forehead carefully against the steering wheel and began to cry silently, shoulders shaking. I was in so much pain that I wasn’t sure how I was going to drive anywhere or do anything. The tears dropped onto my cargo pants, leaving small watery bloodstains on the dark blue material.

A gentle hand took my arm and led me down out of the Land Rover and another hand in the middle of my back pulled me up against a hard, warm, safe body. I didn’t really care who it belonged to, I leaned against it gratefully and let my tears finish their quiet course. The Sarge pulled me in closer, both arms around me, rubbing my back soothingly and murmuring some comforting words in my ear, none of which I could remember when I thought back on the moment.

When I had finished crying, leaving smeared blood all over his now soggy shirt, he led me over to the patrol car and pushed me down into the passenger seat, did up my seatbelt and offered me the box of tissues I always kept inside. I took two handfuls and used them to mop up my eyes, nose and blood, then leaned back against the seat and closed my eyes, holding fresh tissues to the gash on my forehead. We sat in silence for a long time until I opened my eyes again.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled down at my lap, too embarrassed at my loss of composure – first the anger, then the tears – to even look at him. I carefully swiped away more traitorous tears. He’d surely have more heated words to say about my lack of professionalism now.

But of course he didn’t. Instead, his voice was soft, but strained. “Tess, please don’t say that. You have nothing to be sorry about. It’s me who’s sorry for everything. I can see that I’ve fucked up this whole situation badly.”