The Charlton Affair (30 page)

Stillman circled, trying to get past her guard. She adjusted her position every time he moved. At last, the wail of sirens keened in the distance. Amanda let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

Stillman finally made his move and lunged at her. Automatically, she swung at him. She was too slow. With cat-like grace and speed he grabbed the iron, wrenching it from her hands.

He chuckled as he raised the iron high and smilingly said, “Your turn, bitch.”

She moved away as quickly as she could, but she knew she was no match for him. Suddenly Michael came toward them at a run. He tackled his brother’s back, crashing Stillman into her and bringing them all down in a heap.

Stillman was quick to react. He grabbed Michael and rolled him over, taking him in a wrestling style lock. Stillman held his neck at a painful angle. Amanda dived for the tire iron. Michael groaned in pain as Stillman applied steady pressure.

As she held the heavy iron threateningly above his head, Amanda made sure Stillman could see her.

“Let him go, or I’ll do it,” she threatened.

“Drop it or I’ll break his neck,” Stillman replied with calm menace.

The sirens became louder.

Stillman emphasized his point by shaking Michael like a cat toying with its prey. Michael’s face contorted in agony. Amanda could see him struggling to breath as he writhed helplessly.

Charlie’s voice yelled out from the doorway, startling them all.

“Let him go, you fucker. You’ve got no chance! The police will be here any second.”

Charlie ran to Amanda’s side and kicked Stillman in the back. He hardly reacted to her blow. Amanda waved the tire iron purposefully at Stillman.

Abruptly the sirens stopped. Car doors slammed. Someone bashed loudly on the door, and voices could be heard shouting, “Open up! Police!” 

Amanda heard Charlie gasp. Then she saw a shape coming towards them in the background but the thunderous crashing of the front door being broken down distracted her.

Stillman took advantage of the distraction to intensify his grip on Michael’s neck. Sensing Stillman’s sudden movement, Amanda instinctively brought the tire iron down in a wild swing at him. Avoiding her blow with amazing speed, Stillman wrenched Michael to the side. Amanda heard the sickening crunch as Michael’s neck snapped. The iron connected with one of Stillman’s enormous shoulders and he screamed in pain and jerked back, dropping Michael’s unmoving body.

A barrage of running footsteps thundered down the hall as Stillman shoved Michael’s limp weight away and leapt up, undeterred. Amanda, still grasping the iron, swung and brought it down again as hard as she could. Stillman propelled himself forward with such speed that the iron only hit his massive arm in a glancing blow. He yelled in pain, but the blow didn’t distract him. Turning to get past her, he faced the open back door, and began to run. Charlie tried to stop him up but he swatted her aside like a fly and she went crashing into the coffee table, several meters away.

Suddenly something came at Stillman from behind, screaming like a banshee. Amanda was utterly amazed to see Phoebe leap at Stillman, clutching a large kitchen knife in both hands. She sailed through the air in an all out dive and sunk the knife deeply into the back of Stillman’s thigh.

Roaring in agony he spun toward his assailant. Incredibly quickly, he reached down and grabbed Phoebe’s neck in his massive hands and dragged her up brutally. The knife come out of his leg and clattered to the floor as he moved. He wrenched her upwards by the neck.

Charlie screamed “Noo!”

She launched herself at him again, using her small fists to bash ineffectively against his massive chest. Phoebe choked, her hands desperately grasping and scratching at his. Blood welled and pumped out of his leg. Amanda watched in amazement as Charlie brought her knee up hard and fast into Stillman’s crotch.

Stillman dropped Phoebe in shock at the blow and bent over. Despite his pain, he managed to clutch Charlie’s shoulders in an iron grip and held her in front of him as he groaned.

“Stop! Or we’ll shoot!” An authoritative voice barked harshly at him.

Amanda looked up to see Middleton and Phillips and another police officer in the hall and lounge with their weapons drawn, all trained at Stillman’s head.

Stillman faced them. Holding Charlie in front of him like a shield, he challenged them, “I’ll kill her. Put the guns down. Now!”

Amanda didn’t hesitate. She swung as hard as she could. This time the iron hit the back of his head with a satisfying thunk. He dropped like a stone, releasing Charlie as he fell.

Chapter Nineteen

Charlie sat in the front of the ambulance on the ride to the hospital from the crime scene. Her mind repeated over and over what the paramedics had told her.
We’ve intubated her and placed her in an induced coma so the damage can be properly assessed when we get there.
She kept glancing back into the cabin, only to see Phoebe, supine and still, in a plastic collar with a tube coming out of her mouth. She stifled her panic, telling herself that the health professionals knew what they were doing. He chest felt tight when she remembered seeing Phoebe regain consciousness at Stillman’s house only to be unable to breath properly.
Thank God the ambulance arrived in time.
Charlie hadn’t properly processed the fact that Michael was dead and Stillman was in custody. All she could focus on was Phoebe’s survival.
They arrived soon and Charlie was relegated to the Emergency Department waiting room.

Charlie paced anxiously. After fifteen minutes, Charlie desperately begged for information from the triage nurse.

“I’m sorry, I can’t let you in and there’s nothing I can tell you yet. They have to assess her. Maybe in half an hour or so…,” the nurse replied sympathetically.

Unable to stand the waiting, she continued to pace. Suddenly she realized Roman was still upstairs with Mark.
He should know about Phoebe.
She left the waiting room and ran across the large foyer to the lift bank. Impatiently, she pressed the buttons to go up. She burst out of the lift as soon as the doors opened and ran to the ICU. Doing her best to control her pace inside the artificially quiet environment, she quickly found Roman at Mark’s bedside.

Charlie hurriedly told him, “Phoebe’s alive. She’s downstairs now, in the Emergency Department.”

“Oh my God!” Roman exclaimed. “Is she going to be OK?”

Charlie’s face fell, “I don’t know,” she sobbed, “he strangled her until she went unconscious…”

Horrified by the news, Roman stood and held her. She sobbed against his chest.

“What happened?” Roman asked gently.

Through her tears, Charlie replied, “Amanda and Michael followed him. They rescued Phoebe. But… he killed Michael and nearly killed Phoebe. Amanda knocked him out with a tire iron. The police have him now.”

Roman stared down at her in utter shock.

“Poor Michael,” he said, devastated.

She nodded in agreement and then her expression hardened and she stated grimly, “I wish Amanda had killed the bastard.”

Charlie clenched her jaw in anger, contemplating all the damage Stillman had done. Roman looked at his beloved Mark, still unconscious, a machine assisting him to breathe, and then nodded at her in agreement.

Soothingly, he said, “It’s over now. They have him. I’ll come down with you for a few minutes.”

He leaned over and kissed Mark’s cheek lovingly before they headed down to the Emergency Department together. They spent another twenty minutes in the waiting room before they were allowed in to see Phoebe. A police officer had joined them. He accompanied them when they were finally led into her cube.

Roman and Charlie gasped when they saw her lying still, hooked up to lots of beeping machines. They had taken the collar off her neck and Charlie was alarmed to see the angry red marks and swollen skin covering Phoebe’s neck and jawline. She still had a large plastic tube coming out of her mouth, just like Mark did. With silent tears falling, Charlie reached out and brushed her fingers across Phoebe’s pale cheek before kissing her forehead gently. Roman held Phoebe’s hand.

A doctor explained the situation. Phoebe had regained consciousness but had suffered extreme difficulty breathing. The paramedics placed her in an induced coma and intubated her. The tube was to stop her airway from becoming fully blocked off by the swollen tissues, which had been traumatized by the strangulation. They had to leave it in until she could breath safely on her own. She would be admitted to the ICU as soon as a bed was available. They weren’t sure how long she would have to remain tubed. It depended on the scan results and how quickly she responded to treatment.

Charlie overheard the police officer quietly telling the doctor that with no prospect of obtaining a statement from Phoebe anytime soon, there was no use in him staying. A nurse ushered Charlie and Roman out of the busy department, telling them they would be notified when she was sent upstairs for admission to the ICU. For now, they had to return to the waiting area. Roman took Charlie’s hand and gently led her back upstairs with him. Heartsick, neither of them spoke during the journey back up to Mark’s bedside.

*****

Sally sat in the Inspector’s office with Phillips and Poulsen.

“Would have been more satisfying if you’d shot the bastard,” Inspector Marsh grumbled, reflecting on the events three days ago in West Chermside.

All three of them nodded in agreement, Phillips more enthusiastically than the two women.

Phillips said, “I wanted to, sir, but Charlie Moss was too close for me to risk it.”

“Scum like that deserves to die.” He replied moodily. Brightening, he added, “Still, the woman survived, and we’ve got him for his brother’s murder. That will have to be a plea of guilty for sure.”

“Actually sir, he could plead a defense of insanity at trial,” Poulsen piped up.

Marsh’s expression soured. Ignoring her comment, he continued, “He’ll probably want to contest the Sanchez murder. And we know from Jessop he admitted all the other murders to Michael.”

“And the sexual abuse of his sister,” Sally chimed in.

Marsh nodded, adding, “The Charltons are matters for the US authorities to look into. No doubt they’ll want to re-open the old case.”

“We’ll need to re-open the investigation into Harry and Ranelle Rawlins’ deaths, sir.” Sally stated.

“Yes, I’ve already spoken to the Assistant Commissioner. That’s underway,” Marsh replied, “But we’ll need more than a dead man’s evidence if it’s going to get up.”

Sally and Phillips agreed dourly, both of them knowing there was little left to prove anything decisively after all these years.

Sally reflected on the interview she and Marsh had conducted with Stillman at the secure ward of the Princess Alexandra Hospital yesterday, after he had recovered sufficiently. He was being held there while his wounds were being treated, before they shipped him off to remand. 

His lawyer had advised Stillman to say nothing, and he hadn’t. But the way he had looked at them, the smugness of his expression and the void in his eyes had chilled her to her core. She had never truly been afraid of a suspect before.

*****

Exhausted after four days of near sleepless worry, Charlie sat at Phoebe's bedside in the ICU. She was spending as much time there as the nurses would allow. The only time during visiting hours that Charlie was not at the bedside was when Phoebe’s parents visited for a few minutes each afternoon. At that time, she would excuse herself and grab a coffee.

Charlie released Phoebe's hand momentarily to rub her tired eyes. She had been unable to sleep properly since Phoebe was taken, even though she was safe in hospital. Roman had told her it was the same for him. It was only after Mark's tube was removed and he regained consciousness that Roman started to get some decent sleep.

She stared at Phoebe, her pale skin and auburn hair remarkably beautiful even in a hospital bed. Charlie's heart lurched and her chest tightened in love and sorrow. She needed this wonderful courageous woman to recover so they could begin their life together. She desperately prayed Phoebe would be able to make it through the trauma when she did awaken.
Will she be OK? Anyone else would have a nervous breakdown after what she's been through,
Charlie worried.

As she sat holding Phoebe’s hand, the nurse on duty turned to her from her stool at the bench near the bedside and gave her a significant look. Compassionate but firm, Charlie knew she was indicating the end of visiting hours. Charlie heard the quiet swish of curtains and turned to see Roman quietly entering the cube. He had come from Mark’s bedside on a general ward.

After greeting Charlie he said, "It's home time. I’ll walk back to the car park with you. Any changes?”

Sighing sadly, she replied, “Nothing yet.”

They both kissed Phoebe’s cheek. Before they could leave, the senior clinical nurse in charge entered the cube. A middle-aged woman with extremely short steel-grey hair and an air of efficient authority, she said brusquely to Charlie, "Wait around for a moment, but just you."

Roman squeezed Charlie’s hand and said, "Text me with any news," before leaving Charlie behind.

Charlie waited just outside the cube.

Inside the cube, the senior nurse said to Phoebe's nurse, "Doctor Connolly's orders. Prepare the patient for extubation. Her friend can greet her when she wakes up."

The senior nurse turned to Charlie and said, "Go and get a coffee or something. Be back here in twenty minutes."

Awash with gratitude and relief, Charlie thanked her profusely.

With twenty minutes to kill, she went down to the ground floor cafe. The cafe staff were mopping the floors and stacking the chairs. Charlie walked to the outdoor tables near the hospital food court, not paying close attention to her destination. Consumed by anticipation and worry, she looked up at the clear Brisbane night.
Will she wake up OK? Will there be permanent damage to her throat? Whatever the damage, I’ll be there for her. But will she still feel the same way? Will she still want me?

Charlie’s mind continued to reel with fearful thoughts until she realized there was nothing at all that she could do, except be there when she awoke. She resolutely returned to the ICU.

Phoebe’s cube was a hive of activity as the doctor supervised the nurses administering the medication to reverse the induced coma and removing the tube. Charlie stayed back, not wanting to inconvenience the staff. She watched as a nurse applied a suction machine to Phoebe’s mouth and throat. Soon afterwards, Phoebe began spluttering and choking.

They raised the head of her bed so she could sit up. She coughed hoarsely. Involuntarily, Charlie moved closer. Phoebe’s looked around in confusion.

The doctor announced, “Mrs. Rawlins, you’re in the Intensive Care Unit at the Royal Brisbane Hospital.”

Phoebe rasped out weakly, “Charlie? Charlie?”

The senior nurse ushered Charlie to the bedside.

Charlie wept with joy as she leaned close to Phoebe’s face and said gently, “I’m here, sweetheart, I’m here.”

They looked into each other’s eyes. Weakly, Phoebe squeezed Charlie’s hand and whispered, “Please don’t leave me.”

“I’ll never leave you. Never,” Charlie promised.

The senior nurse smiled as she instructed Phoebe’s nurse to get an armchair and place it beside the bed so that Charlie could stay the night.

*****

Amanda sat in class, listening carefully and taking notes. She felt as though she already knew many of the techniques the experienced investigation trainers were imparting, but nonetheless, she paid close attention.

She would be finished her course in a few weeks. Then she would be eligible to apply for registration as a private investigator. Her father had wanted her to join the police, but Amanda had decided to set up her own business instead. Bob Jessop was proud of her and said he would help her out after his impending retirement. She looked forward to that. Working with her Dad would be great.

Amanda’s husband was not as supportive as she wished. He seemed to think her business would fail and he was worried about how that would affect him. She sighed. She knew things might be tough for a while but it was what she really wanted to do. Besides, she had help. Charlie had paid for her to do the full course, and would assist her with set up costs.
He needs to get behind me. I’m not going to be a PA forever and I'm getting really sick of his attitude.

In the class break, Amanda reflected on the horrible events around Michael's death and Phoebe's rescue. Witnessing the brutal death of someone she had come to like was the most traumatic thing Amanda had ever experienced. It still felt unreal.  She was occasionally woken from her sleep by vivid dreams about it and sometimes had flashbacks to it during the day. The therapist said this was normal in the aftermath of trauma. Her husband had been less than sympathetic, blaming her for putting herself in harms way. She knew he was worried about her somewhere underneath his bluster but his disapproval only compounded her pain over Michael’s death.

Shaking off her gloominess, Amanda thought about how good things would be when she got set up. Amanda was determined to make a go of it. Jessop’s Detective Agency would be a reality.

*****

Phoebe woke in a sweat, terrified. Unable at first to get her bearings, she looked around frantically. Suddenly she realized she was in her room at Roman’s house, safe. Unwilling to return to her apartment at Southbank after what had happened, she had gratefully moved back in with Roman when she was discharged from hospital.