In Safe Keeping (14 page)

He gagged and let her go.

Eyes stinging, throat burning, she stumbled away. Branches tore at her skin, tangled in her hair as she changed direction once, and then again. Disoriented, she ran through the darkness, not knowing if she were headed for the road or deeper into the park.

Behind her, she could hear her assailant thrashing his way through the undergrowth.

She tripped and pitched forward, slamming into the cold ground. She tried crawling away, but rough hands manacled her ankles, and then a dead weight landed on her legs.

Beneath her cheek, the earth was pungent with fertilizer.

And then she heard the sound of a zipper being lowered.

Galvanised by a fresh wave of terror, Laila groped in the dark, feeling for the jagged piece of stone digging into her shoulder. She worked the rock into her palm and pushed herself upwards, bucking like a footballer trying to get free of a tackle.

A meaty hand slapped over her mouth, smothering the scream building in her throat. Laila twisted her body, twisted again, swinging her arm wide as she aimed the rock toward her assailant’s head.

There was a loud crack, an animal sound, a stink of nicotine and sour body odour.

Then something hard and cold jammed into the side of her neck.

‘Someone wants you dead, bitch.’

Laila froze. Beside her left cheek, his index finger rested on the trigger, the barrel of the pistol pushed hard against her carotid artery.

Evan’s face flashed in her mind.

She wanted to live.

She
so
wanted to live.

‘You bastard.’

He grinned, just before a sickening thump split the air. His expression froze on his face, and then he toppled sideways, knocked out cold before he even hit the ground.

Laila pushed herself up on her elbows as a tall figure loomed above her. A lanky guy, silhouetted against the trees, pistol held loosely at his side. As she watched, he planted his foot square in the middle of her assailant’s back and gave the prone body a powerful shove.

It was then Laila noticed her assailant’s jacket half unzipped. Her eyes flew to his pants, but the fly was closed. The noise she’d heard must have been the zipper on his jacket being lowered when he’d taken out the gun.

‘Go.’ The tall man leaned over and picked up the gun. ‘Run home.’

Laila scrambled onto her knees. ‘What about calling the police?’

He held out her handbag, his face averted. ‘Go now.’

Laila wasn’t about to argue. Standing on wobbly legs, she reached out and took hold of her bag. Calling the police wasn’t going to happen.

Chest heaving, she backed away, amazed she was still wearing her shoes. ‘Thank you.’

She turned and ran, stumbling through the trees until she found her way out to the road. Leaving the park behind, she ran like a crazy woman. Reaction set in, weakening her muscles and slowing her progress. Still, she ran on, past the houses where families were having dinner behind closed curtains, past the cars left parked on the street.

Chest burning from the effort, body wracked with uncontrollable tremors, she didn’t stop until she turned the corner and reached her little front gate. Tears of relief welled in her eyes, blinding her as she fumbled with the latch. She stumbled up the two steps and onto the bullnose veranda, digging in her bag for her keys, a sob bursting from her sore throat where cruel fingers had shut off her air supply.

Who was he?

What was he doing to the guy in the park?

Did she care?

All she wanted was to get inside the safety of her house.

Hands shaking, she aimed the key at the lock, fumbled and dropped the keys with a clatter.

Tears of frustration ran down her cheeks as she scooped them up and tried again. This time, she managed to slide the key into the lock. She was about to open the door, when a sound behind her made her scalp crawl.

7 p.m. Friday

‘Laila, it’s me. It’s
me!
’

She stopped fighting and went still. The wounded cry, which moments earlier had sent fear rolling through Evan’s body, died on her lips.

She swung around, eyes glazed with the kind of blind panic you hoped you didn’t witness too often in a lifetime. Only then did he notice the leaves and twigs in her hair, the dirty hands and broken fingernails where she held the keys in a white-knuckled grip.

Dread constricted the muscles in his throat, making it almost impossible for him to force out the words. ‘What happened?’

Her lips trembled, but she said nothing, just leaned forward and rested her forehead on his chest.

Slowly, Evan brought his hands up to cup the back of her head. ‘Laila, honey, talk to me.’

She pressed her cheek against his chest as if comforted by the sound of his heartbeat. ‘A man attacked me. He dragged me into the park.’

The words hit Evan like a freight train, one horror image after another flashing through his mind.

‘Oh, Laila.’ He choked out the words, rage dotting his vision, and for the first time in his life he wondered what it would feel like to slaughter a man.

‘Let’s get you inside.’

Fighting the monster that was his fury, he gently prised the keys from her fingers, keeping hold of her as he unlocked the door. Then he bent and scooped her damp body into his arms, kicked the door closed behind him and walked into the living room.

He put her down on the lounge, shrugged off his suit coat and wrapped it around her shaking shoulders. ‘I’ll call an ambulance, or would you rather me drive you to the hospital?’

She shook her head. ‘I’m okay. He didn’t rape me.’

Relief for her washed over him, and he sent up a silent prayer of gratitude that she’d been spared at least one horrific form of violence.

‘He would have killed me.’ She spoke in a flat, unfamiliar tone. ‘He had a gun.’

‘Are you physically hurt?’

‘Only my neck.’

She lifted her chin, bruises already forming where pitiless fingers had tightened around her throat.

‘
The fucking bastard
.’ Evan’s stomach gave a sickening lurch and he had to fight the urge to drive down to the park and look for the guy.

But he couldn’t leave her.

Couldn’t contaminate a crime scene either.

‘I’ll call the police.’

‘Ring Dickson Cross.’ With shaking hands, she unzipped a small bag slung diagonally across her body. ‘His card’s in here somewhere.’

‘Here, let me.’ Evan uncurled his fists and searched through the bag, needing something to prevent him smashing a hand into the wall. All he could think about was Laila, and what he’d do to the guy if he found him.

‘Who’s Dickson Cross?’

‘A detective I’ve been speaking to.’

He refrained from questioning her, just punched in the number. Conscious of her watching him, he reached out and touched the side of her hair while he listed to the phone ring at the other end.

The detective picked up on the third ring.

The conversation lasted thirty seconds.

‘He’s on his way.’ Evan sat down beside her. The shaking was intermittent now, and there was a little more colour in her face.

‘Come here.’ He reached for her, and she slid into his arms. ‘Should I call the emergency doctor?’

‘Not yet. Wait until we speak to Dickson.’

Her head came down on his shoulder, her familiar softness momentarily quenching his thirst for revenge. Not since school, when he’d lain in wait for the cowards picking on Duncan, had he been so consumed with a need to extract violence.

Not even in his football days.

But this?

This made him want to go out and hunt the guy.

Evan dragged in a ragged breath and held her loosely, trying not to manhandle her too much. He didn’t speak, didn’t want to push her for too many details. She’d have to relive everything soon enough when this Detective Inspector Cross arrived.

Ten minutes later, he was introducing himself. Even this late on a Thursday, Cross exuded a reassuring energy, and it didn’t take him long to get to work.

‘Laila.’ He sat opposite Laila on the ottoman and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. ‘I’ve got men scouring the park as we speak. Do you need a doctor right now, or are you able to tell me what happened?’

She nodded. ‘I’m fine now. I can tell you what happened.’

Evan moved to stand behind the detective, watching as Cross took a notepad from his pocket and flipped over to a blank page.

‘Start at the beginning.’

Laila took a deep breath. ‘I got off the bus. It was darker than usual, beginning to rain. One minute it seemed the storm was about to hit, then it blew over.’

‘Do you always catch the same bus?’

‘Mostly.’

‘Did he get off with you?’

‘I don’t remember seeing him on the bus.’

‘So he was lying in wait?’

Laila shifted uneasily. ‘I’m not sure. He could have been. I — I didn’t notice him when I got off either.’

‘Okay.’ The detective turned a page in his notebook. ‘You told me the other day you had the feeling you were being watched.’

‘What?’ Evan couldn’t help interrupting. Laila hadn’t said anything to him. Then again, why would she? They were officially broken up. He didn’t have a right to know anything now — if he ever did.

Laila turned wide brown eyes on him. ‘Dickson’s investigating the fire. It was deliberately lit. He showed me a photo of a guy they caught on security camera.’

She turned to Dickson then. ‘I think it might have been him.’

‘Okay, back up a bit.’ Dickson scribbled frantically on his pad. ‘Go from where you got off the bus.’

Over the next few minutes, Laila described her horror walk home and the ensuing struggle.

‘A gun’s unusual in a rape.’ Dickson said, when she reached that point in the story. ‘Usually it’s at knifepoint.’

‘At first I thought he was going to rape me, but the zipper I heard was from his jacket, when he took out the gun. And it was the words he used. He said “someone wants you dead, bitch”.’

‘That was after you hit him with the rock?’

‘Yes.’

Dickson took the picture from his pocket, the same one he’d shown her yesterday. ‘Take another look.’

The sight of her attacker sent a fresh shudder through Laila’s body. ‘I’m not totally sure. He was looming over me. There was lightning. I caught glimpses of his face.’

Concerned that she was still in shock, and wishing more than anything he’d been there, Evan moved to sit beside Laila again. He leaned over and looked at the photograph. ‘I’ve seen that guy.’

‘When?’ Dickson snapped out the question, eyes lowered to where Evan had slipped his arm around Laila’s waist.

‘The day of the fire. He was coming out of the building. He tried to stop me going in.’

‘Evan brought Mike out,’ Laila explained.

Dickson directed his next question at Evan. ‘What did he say?’

‘The smoke was getting worse, and not to go in.’

Laila leaned back against the cushions. ‘Maybe the man has a conscience after all.’

‘More likely he knows us both.’ Unable to sit still, Evan pushed himself up and began pacing the floor. ‘Laila, you said you thought you were being watched?’

‘Yes.’

‘If it was this guy, what if tonight was his second attempt to hurt you? Could the fire have been his first?’

He turned to the detective. ‘Think about it. He assumes Laila’s in the building, so he lights the fire. Only she’s in court. He evacuates along with the others, but outside, she passes him and goes into the building. At that point, he still thinks he’s in with a chance, whatever his motive is. What he doesn’t know is that I’m coming after her. Then he spots
me
. And if he’s been watching Laila, he knows me too.’

‘It makes sense.’ Dickson said after a while. ‘There’d only be one reason he’d risk speaking to you.’

‘He didn’t want me stopping Laila from entering that building.’

‘You missed your calling, mate. You should have been a cop.’ Dickson began writing again. ‘So Laila, despite the damage you did with the rock, he still managed to pull the gun on you? How did you get away?’

‘Another guy hit him from behind.’

Two sets of male eyes bored into her.

‘Pistol whipped him.’ Laila pointed to the printed photograph. ‘He was out cold before he even hit the ground.’

Dickson sat straighter. ‘Did this other guy say anything?’

‘He told me to go. I wanted to call the police, but he told me to run. I didn’t argue.’

For a few uneasy moments nobody spoke.

Finally, Evan broke the silence. ‘What’s
he
got to hide? Could this be another gangland thing?’

Dickson didn’t answer, just kept pressing Laila. ‘Did you get a look at him?’

Laila nodded. ‘Tall, lanky, salt-and-pepper hair. He looked kind of familiar. I think I’ve seen him before, but I can’t remember where.’

‘You’re still in shock,’ Evan said quietly. ‘It might come back to you later.’

‘He’s right.’ Dickson agreed. ‘If you feel up to it, I’ll take you down to the station. You might recognise him from a mug shot, and forensics will need to do a fingernail scrape and test your clothing for specks of blood.’

‘When you find him he’ll have scratch marks on his face and a bite mark on his arm.’ Laila shuddered. ‘I can still taste his skin in my mouth.’

‘Do you feel up to going down to the station?’ Evan asked. He wasn’t convinced they shouldn’t call a doctor first.

‘I’m okay now. I was very lucky.’

He smiled, pleased she’d stopped shaking. If he had his way, he’d personally check every square inch of her body. But she was a sensible woman. He had to take her word for it.

Tearing his eyes away, he jabbed at the printout. ‘So, who’s this guy?’

‘John Holt, a member of the Altar Boys motorcycle gang.’ Dickson pointed to the rosary beads tattooed around his neck. ‘He’s a professional crim.’

Evan heard George Peyton’s voice in his head.
Who’s this lady lawyer? Pressure can be brought to bear.

His mind rocketed backwards to his conversation with George. That meeting had been last Monday night,
after
the fire. But Duncan had learned Laila’s name at The Bowery, the previous Friday, and he’d spoken to his parents over the weekend. There was every chance George would have known Laila’s name before he’d asked Evan about her on Monday.