In Safe Keeping (27 page)

Evan would just have to wait.

Ten minutes later, she finally stepped outside.

Cool air hit her skin. The clouds were low and heavy in the sky. Despite the hour, the night was dark, the wind blustery, the pavement slick from an earlier shower. She looked around for Evan, searching the nearby faces, but he was nowhere to be seen.

It was a little strange, but maybe she’d taken so long he’d gone back inside the hotel to look for her.

Laila hesitated for a few more moments, before deciding to stay where she was. He’d be back soon. He’d come all the way down here to see her — he wouldn’t run off now.

Three minutes later and the rain was falling hard. Laila bit her lip and looked around in annoyance. Maybe he was around the other side. She walked to the corner and peered up the narrow street, searching for a tall, broad-shouldered guy in a leather jacket.

Nothing.

Then a flash of blinding headlights made her blink, the glare reflecting off the wet road so she couldn’t make out whether it was Evan’s Porsche parked first in line at the curb.

Was it him?

She moved closer to the vehicle, stopped and squinted. The passenger side door was flung wide, but the car was too bulky to be Evan’s low-slung sports car.

She swung away and began heading back towards the pub.

‘
Laila!’

She halted at the sound of Evan’s voice.

Slowly, she turned and walked towards the car.

He must be on the phone.

‘Did you buy a four-wheel drive? ’ Grasping hold of the doorframe, she peered inside, the metal cold in her hands.

Evan was sitting in the passenger seat, back stiff, face white, eyes full of regret and apology.

Too late, Laila saw Scarlett Peyton. She was sitting directly behind Evan, a cruel smile splitting her face, the barrel of a gun pressed into the back of his neck.

7 p.m. Saturday

Scarlett ordered Laila to drive. ‘Go around the front. Get in the driver’s seat. Try
anything
, and he’s dead.’

Heart racing like a motor in her chest, Laila forced her shocked body to move. The four-wheel drive was high at the front, so she kept her arm by her side, concealing the handbag hanging from her wrist. Slowly, she rounded the front of the vehicle and opened the driver’s door.

Evan signalled with his eyes for her to run.

Laila took hold of the grab handle and hoisted herself up.

‘Give me your phone,’ Scarlett said, the instant the door was closed.

Laila reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out her phone. As she passed it over her shoulder she let the bangle on her other wrist slide further up her arm so it almost reached her elbow. The attached bag settled high on her thigh, closest to the door. Temporarily out of Scarlett’s vision.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked.

‘
Drive!
’

Laila gave a violent start, hands and knees trembling as she located the key in the ignition. Planting her foot on the brake, she turned over the engine. The big vehicle started with a quiet purr, the dashboard lighting up like a cockpit. It struck her that Evan must have leaned over, at gunpoint, and turned on the lights as she walked towards them.

Forget the seatbelt.

Think, Laila! Think!

You want police to stop you.

‘Drive, and don’t look at him,’ came the command from the back seat.

‘I don’t know the car. Where’s the handbrake?’ She had to keep Scarlett talking, establish communication.

‘You stupid
bitch
, what does he see in you?’

‘Lever under the dash.’ Evan said quietly, then his head jerked forward as Scarlett rammed the gun barrel hard into the back of his neck.

‘Don’t speak to her! You can speak to me, but not to her.’

Grateful it had stopped raining, Laila put the car in gear and flicked on the indicator. Beside her, Evan was sitting forward, head bent, arms folded. She could see the gun barrel sticking through the gap between the seat and the headrest.

Forcing herself to slow her breathing, Laila pulled away from the curb, heard the door locks engage as if trapping them in a mobile prison.

They stopped in George Street, and Laila glanced in the rear view mirror, hoping the flashing seatbelt light on the dash didn’t draw Scarlett’s attention. But the woman was intent on keeping the gun at Evan’s neck, and she was looking around, as if searching for where to go next, as if all this was happening without much planning.

‘Why?’ Laila asked, forcing her shocked brain into action.

Hard, cold, pitiless eyes met hers in the rear view mirror.

‘You still haven’t worked it out yet, have you?’

‘Is it because I won’t act for you anymore?’

‘You forced me to do this. Now I have to rush it all.’

‘All what?’ Evan asked.

Scarlett stiffened, and for a moment she stared at the back of his head.

‘How could you?’ Scarlett’s voice turned low, beaten, terrifying. ‘How could you prefer her, to
me?’

Laila went dizzy, face tingling as the blood left her head.

Dear god!

Not that!

Not Evan and Scarlett!

Feverish sweat broke out on Laila’s body, her heart slugging painfully against her ribs. She shot a glance at Evan. He was staring through the windscreen, wide-eyed, stunned.

Laila tightened her grip on the wheel and followed the line of traffic around Central Station and up into Surry Hills.

Eventually, he spoke. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

The woman in the back seat gave a chilling cry that had every muscle in Laila’s body tensing. ‘This thing between us.’

There was a long pause, then Evan spoke again. ‘There’s no “thing” between us, Scarlett.’

To Laila’s surprise, his voice was firm, gentle, as if he were explaining something to a bewildered child. Only then did she realise they were dealing with someone deluded, someone possibly in the grip of a psychotic episode, someone who’d lost touch with reality.

‘I rang you so many times and told you I was leaving him. It was the perfect opportunity for you to make a move, admit you wanted me. And you did
nothing
.’

‘You’re Duncan’s wife. There will never be anything between us.’

‘I hate him,’ she screamed, then her attention snapped to Laila, and she raised a hand and pushed her in the shoulder. ‘Go to Centennial Park.’

‘Don’t hurt her. Please. It’s me you’ve got the issue with. Let Laila go, and we’ll sort this out, just you and me.’ There was a pleading note in Evan’s voice that made Laila’s throat ache but only served to enrage Scarlett.

‘It’s too late.
I overlooked your one-night stands, but you kept going back to this one. I knew it was different this time.’ Scarlett was rambling. Making statements, then refuting them, as if debating with herself.

‘How did you know these things?’ This time there was real bewilderment in Evan’s voice.

He was keeping her engaged.

Talking.

Establishing rapport.

Laila stayed quiet, looked left then right, slowed down each time they approached a camera. If they didn’t make it out alive, at least Dickson Cross would be able to put together a timeline of their movements.

Scarlett gave a manic laugh. ‘Surprised I could do it, huh? It was easy.’

She was boasting now, more powerful than angry. ‘I put remote spyware on your phones when you were playing pool at the house at three in the morning. You should be more careful.’

Laila’s mind raced. That’s how Scarlett had learned about the facilitation payments and high-class call girls. From Duncan’s phone. Private information belonging to the Peytons, obtained illegally by their daughter-in-law and wife.

Laila caught sight of her reflection in the rear-view mirror, face deathly pale, eyes wide with fright. She clenched her hands on the wheel and flicked her eyes back to the road. Beside her, Evan’s body was taut with tension, fists clenched at his sides.

Soon, Laila was turning into Centennial Park where huge Australian figs and eucalypts overhung the narrow single carriageway. Apart from one or two lights shining from the restaurant windows, there was no sign of life — no joggers, no horses, no groups of overly fit Lycra-clad cyclists.

On a wet Saturday night, the park was dark and uninhabited, the perfect place to commit a crime.

A crime of passion.

Whoever would have guessed?

Sweat stuck to Laila’s body as she flicked her eyes around the car, searching for something, anything she could use. If she lost her bag, the keys were a possible weapon.

What else?

What could she accomplish with a gun trained on Evan?

She only had her handbag, and Scarlett could spot that any time. One badly timed move, and he’d be dead.

Laila ground her teeth and pushed past the fear that threatened to paralyse her.

What else was there?

An electronic tag.

A GPS mounted on the dashboard, close to the window.

Laila took her eyes off the road for a few seconds to peer at the device. What she had first believed to be a GPS was actually a mobile camera used to record what was happening on the road in front of the driver.

And it remained on while the engine was running.

The keys were no longer an option. She needed to leave them in the ignition, switched to ‘accessories’, in the vague hope that its panoramic lens might capture some evidence of the crime Scarlett intended to commit.

Suddenly, Scarlett pointed to a narrow service road winding between the trees. ‘Down there. Go left.’

Laila pulled on the wheel, the sweep of headlights illuminating a number of wooden sheds that looked to house maintenance equipment. A remote section of the park, the area was dark and deserted, the padlocked sheds a clear indication that no activity was likely until Monday morning.

‘Pull over.’ Scarlett pointed to the where the road ended and the gravel widened out into a turning circle.

Fingers stiff from her death grip on the wheel, blood pounding in her throat and temples, Laila swung the car around so the lights pointed back down the road.

‘What are you going to do Scarlett?’ Evan asked between clenched teeth. ‘Kill us both?’

‘I’ll do a better job than Holt, the tool.’ She was crowing now, but not all her answers were in direct response to them.

‘Who are you talking you?’ asked Evan.

‘Shut up!’

‘Did you tell John Holt to hurt Laila?’

‘He’s an idiot. Failed twice. Told him I’d finish it myself.’

‘Is that where you got the gun, from the bikie?’

She didn’t answer but the weapon began to shake in her hand. ‘When you’re gone, I’ll feel better.’

‘No you won’t, you’ll feel worse.’ Laila said softly, trying to think of something, anything that might help them escape the horror of this nightmare. ‘Think of your children, Scarlett. You won’t be able to see them if you don’t get better.’

‘Get out!’
Scarlett screamed suddenly. ‘If you run, I’ll shoot him.’

Laila felt for the keys, turned them back a notch, then left them in the ignition.

This was her chance.

Maybe her only one.

She opened the door and looked at Scarlett. The other woman was already out of the car, throwing open Evan’s door and standing back, gun raised, waiting for him to get out.

Keeping her arm by her side, Laila slid from the car, making sure she landed squarely on both feet.

She had seconds.

Fail now — and Evan died.

At the exact moment Evan closed the door, Laila unzipped her handbag, shaky fingers probing for the pepper spray.

‘Get around here.’ Scarlett hollered.

Laila’s fingers closed around the small canister and she plucked it from the bag.

Without breaking stride, she dragged the bangle over her hand and dropped the bag beside the rear wheel. Then she was rounding the corner, the small can of spray tucked in her palm.

She needed to get close.

‘Stop there.’ Scarlet took two steps back, then waved the pistol at Laila, gesturing for her to go and stand beside Evan.

‘What are you going to do? Make us kneel while you shoot us, execution style?’ Evan’s voice was devoid of all softness now they were out of the car, reminding her of how he’d spoken to Jason Moulder yesterday.

Strangely, his more dominant attitude seemed to unsettle Scarlett, and for the first time since she’d been ordered into the car, Laila saw the other woman falter.

Evan pressed on, moving closer. ‘You’ll go to prison Scarlett. Your children will have a murderer for a mother. Think about that.’

Scarlett grimaced as though trying to shut down the voices in her head. ‘I love you. I’ve loved you from the moment Duncan first introduced us.’

Evan shook his head. ‘It’s all in your mind, Scarlett. I never encouraged you, ever. You’re just going to have to accept that.’

Tears slipped down Scarlett’s face, and the gun began to shake again. Laila held her breath, watching in horror as Evan held out his hand. ‘Come on. You haven’t hurt anybody yet. You don’t have to do this.’

Laila saw the change, the murderous expression that came into the other woman’s eyes, the way her index finger twitched on the trigger.

Laila moved, stepping in front of Evan, eyes fixed on the muzzle, fear eating at the lining of her stomach.

Scarlett’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Then her lips curved in a cruel smile. ‘Well, well.’

The square hit to Laila’s back rattled her ribcage, the air leaving her lungs with a grunt before she sprawled on the ground. The pepper spray shot from her hand, hitting the gravel with a metallic bounce and rolling a few feet away. It took Laila a moment to realise she hadn’t been shot. When she rolled over, Evan’s hand was wrapped around Scarlett’s wrist, twisting hard.

Working the air back into her lungs, Laila turned and crawled towards the pepper spray. Groping in the dark, she closed her hand around the canister and struggled to her feet. Sirens screamed into the night, but Laila didn’t care. She stumbled towards the struggling figures. Taller and stronger, Evan had Scarlett’s arms above her head, their bodies plastered together as he attempted to prise the gun from her fingers.