Behind the Hood (Behind the Lives) (4 page)

His stepdad’s raspy voice came over the line. “Maia’s been stabbed,” Rory said. “We’re at the hospital.”

Nike opened his mouth, but nothing came out. In the next room, the shower turned off followed by cupboards being opened and closed. Who would stab his li’l sis? She was just a kid.

Rory answered his unspoken question, “Tama did it.”

Nike gripped the phone. That fucker! He was going to kill him. The sick bastard was always harassing Maia for sex. Nike froze. Oh God, no ... did Tama rape her?

Jess walked in naked, with her hair wrapped in a towel and growling about the neighbours. In a daze, Nike watched her pull open a drawer. It scraped and got stuck halfway. She swore and yanked it open.

“You there, Nike?” Rory asked.

Nike snapped to.
“How bad?”

“We don’t know. She’s still in surgery.”

“Did he...” Nike’s voice broke. “Did he rape her?”

“The cops only said she was stabbed.”

Jess’s head whipped around at Nike’s words. She walked towards him, her heavy breasts swaying. An uninvited trickle of breast milk glistened on her caramel-coloured skin. “What’s happened?” she asked.

“I’ll be there soon.” Nike hung up. “Maia’s been stabbed. I’ve gotta go.”

Jess stood still for a moment, her face shocked. “I’m comin’ too.”

“No, you stay with Jakey.” Nike ran into the bathroom. He could hear her rifling through the wardrobe as he took off his briefs and stepped into the shower.

After a quick clean, he grabbed fresh briefs and hopped into them, then threw on a shirt, his black courier jacket, and the jeans off the floor.

“I told ja to stay put,” he snapped as Jess grabbed her purse. He loved her, but shit, the woman never listened.

“I’ll get Jakey.” She ran out of the room.

Nike jammed his feet into his boots and shoved his wallet into his back pocket. He didn’t have time to argue. Anyway, he knew it would do no good. Since meeting Jess three years ago, at the age of fifteen, he’d found out that she was an expert at getting her own way.

He strode down the passage and into the small lounge. On the other side of the wall the rap music blared loudly, shaking the cheap shelves that Nike had haphazardly nailed up. Jake continued to cry as Jess pulled him out of his cot.

Nike grabbed his keys off the wall and opened the ranch-slider for Jess and Jake, then locked up. They headed for the yellow courier van. Jess put Jake in his car-seat, while Nike revved up the engine. As soon as she was in he took off towards the hospital.

***

Middleton hospital—Nike hated the place. He’d been in there enough times to know. Nothing too serious: a broken nose, arm, finger and toe, a stabbed arm, and when he was four, a piece of Lego stuck up his nose. He’d jammed the stormtrooper helmet pretty far.

The Middleton waiting room was just like any other hospital. There was a lot of waiting, waiting, and ... more waiting. They’d been there since eleven and it was now going on midnight. Maia was still in surgery. The bastard Tama had stabbed her between the shoulder blades. His mother said Maia had come in without any breathing problems, so it looked like the knife hadn’t pierced her lungs. The police had left before Nike had gotten there, asked all the questions they could. Nike didn’t want them here anyway. They needed to get out there and look for Tama, just like he would once he knew his sister was going to pull through.

Nike pulled out a 7-up from the vending machine, and sat down next to Jess. Jake lay snuggled under a baby blanket, suckling from her breast. Nike opened the can, and took a swig, while he eyeballed the back of Rory’s bald head. His forty-year-old stepdad was sitting a few seats away, busy on his iPhone. Rory was addicted to the internet and was on it for most of the day. Nike didn’t understand why his mother put up with him. What kind of man sent his woman out to work while he sat on his arse? A fucking lazy one.

Nike glanced at his mother. She was pacing in front of the nurses’ station, her gaze following every doctor who walked past. She was overweight and had bad eczema around her mouth. As usual, he thought she looked exhausted, much older than her thirty-eight years. At times he worried that she was going to end up like his nanna, dying before she hit forty.

Nike stuck the can under his seat and went over to her. He knew she was working herself up, and wanted to calm her down before she brought on an asthma attack.

A doctor in blue scrubs came out of the corridor. He had a young face that contrasted with his short grey hair. He smiled at Nike’s mother. “The surgery went well. No vital organs were hit. We’d like to keep Maia in for a few days, and as long as all goes well, she should make a full recovery in a few weeks. A counsellor will be assigned—”

Rory stood up. “Why does she need a counsellor? You said she’d be fine. I’m not paying for a quack.”

Nike couldn’t believe his stepdad’s nerve. As if Rory paid for jack.

“Sir, it won’t cost you a cent,” the doctor said. “The country has free healthcare.”

“I still don’t want Maia seeing no quack. I don’t trust them after...” He glanced at Nike’s mother with a strained expression.

Nike felt his anger quickly dissolve. He now realised why his stepdad was getting uptight, and he couldn’t blame him. A counsellor at Claydon High had upset his mother, telling her she was a bad parent because Maia skipped school. If that wasn’t bad enough, the prick reported her to Child Welfare. For three weeks, she worried whether they were going to take Maia away from her. In the end she received a letter stating that the case was closed, and a list of counsellors that could “help Maia with her emotional problems.”

“She will be assigned a qualified professional,” the doctor said. “With these sorts of injuries the psychological wound also needs to be looked at. Quite often they are harder to heal.”

Nike patted Rory’s arm. “The counsellors here are fine. I had one when I wuz stabbed, and she helped me.”

Rory’s gaze shifted from the doctor to Nike. “I just want Maia to be alright.”

His mother gave Rory a hug. “I know you do, love.”

“Can we see her?” Rory asked the doctor.

“She’s sleeping at the moment, but you can still go in,” the doctor replied. “A nurse will take you through.” He indicated towards the reception desk, then excused himself and left.

Nike called out to Jess. “Babe, we’re gonna see Maia. You comin’?”

She shook her head. “Jakey’s just fallen asleep. I’ll pop in before we leave.”

Nike nodded, and followed the others to the desk. A nurse in a lavender uniform directed them to his sister’s bedside. Maia was lying on her side asleep and covered with a blanket, the steady beating of her heart displayed on the monitor next to her bed.

Nike had been dreading that something like this would happen. Ever since their dad had moved to Australia a few months back, Maia had been acting up. His mother had asked him to have a talk with her. He’d tried, but all Maia did was shrug and grin like she thought everything was funny.

His mother wiped her eyes. “I should’ve taken her to that party,” she whispered.

Both Nike and Rory went to put an arm around her shoulder.

Rory moved his hand down to her waist. “No, love, you did the right thing. If she’d just listened, and stayed home, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Nike frowned. “She shouldn’t have snuck out, but it’s still Tama’s fault. After I leave I’m gonna—”

His mother looked up. “Please don’t go after him, Son.”

“But—”

“No buts, Nike!”

Her gaze fell to Maia. His sister continued to sleep, undisturbed by his mother’s sudden outburst.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout.” She turned to Nike with a worried expression. “But I know what you’re thinking, and your family needs you here, not in jail. Please promise me that you won’t go after him.”

Nike knew he couldn’t do that. He gazed down at his sister. For her sake he needed to take care of Tama. And quick.

4

Janice

“Bye, love.” “Bye, babe.” “Bye, Mum.”

All the men she loved had eventually said, “Bye.” Gareth, Seth, now Tama. Janice wanted to weep. She couldn’t do without her boy. He looked after her and helped out with Caitlin. He was also her only link to her dead husband. God, she’d loved his father. The police came then too; told her Gareth had been killed by a drunk driver who’d driven down the wrong side of the motorway.

The men in blue also came for her second husband. Seth had struck Jason Beadle, a neighbour from across the street. Jason died from that one punch. Manslaughter they said before locking Seth away. But it wasn’t his fault. Seth was protecting his family. Jason had called her a nutter, and had threatened to get Caitlin taken away.

Now the cops wanted Tama.

“Ma’am ... Did you hear me?”

“What?” She looked at the male and female officers standing on the other side of the coffee table. Hadn’t they left? She was sure they’d left.

Her gaze shifted to the large scar underneath the policeman’s chin. She remembered him. Hated him. He was the officer who’d taken Seth away.

“Please, Ma’am, we need to know where your son is.”

Janice pressed her lips together.

The man sighed and looked at his partner. Janice’s attention shifted to Tivo. Her spirit guide was standing next to the butch-looking policewoman, his gaunt face framed by long black hair. Tama would constantly question her about Tivo, often asking why he was American Indian, and that it would make more sense if she had “made” him Maori. But she couldn’t change Tivo’s nationality. He was real.

Clad in a tasselled buckskin shirt and leggings, Tivo’s form wavered, then disappeared.

“Don’t go,” she cried. “Please come back.”

The female officer raised an eyebrow. “Ma’am, I’m not leaving.” She walked around the coffee table and sat down on the couch. “We will find your son. But you have to help us. Give us his friends’ addresses.”

Thank God the woman had thought she’d spoken to her. After the incident with Jason Beadle, she had tried so hard not to speak to Tivo in front of strangers.

Her hands began to shake.

Caitlin wiggled on Janice’s lap. She looked confused, her little snubbed-nose turned up even more. “Mummy, Mummy, why you c-c-c-cold? It’s not-not c-c-cold.”

Caitlin’s stuttering and word repetition was a constant concern for Janice, as her daughter regularly came home from school in tears. In the past week, Caitlin had stopped talking at school, too afraid of being bullied. Janice had an appointment to see her teacher the following day to discuss it, but didn’t want to go. It terrified her. She could only talk to her family and Betsy without feeling overwhelmed.

“I just need you to hug me tighter, sweetie,” Janice said.

Caitlin gripped onto Janice’s dressing gown, and squeezed.

“Ma’am, can you please give us his friend’s addresses,” the female officer asked. “It’s imperative that we find Tama.”

“G-G-Go away!” Caitlin cried. She leaned into Janice, squashing her teddy bear between them. Caitlin didn’t like the police, blaming them for taking her daddy.

Janice smoothed down Caitlin’s hair, and glared at the woman. “You’re upsetting my daughter. Please leave.”

“We need the addresses.”

“I don’t know them!” Janice didn’t care that it was a lie. The police weren’t here to help her. They just wanted to hurt Tama, like they did Seth. Bastards handcuffed Seth in front of his own daughter. Of course he was going to fight back; no one wants to go to jail.

“Ma’am—”

“I said, leave!” Janice clamped her eyes shut.

She heard the policewoman sigh. “We’re sorry that we’ve upset you, Ma’am. We will be in contact when we have more info on your son.”

Footsteps receded. Janice opened her eyes as the ranch-slider closed. She leaned back into the vinyl couch Tama had bought her. The cops were wrong about her boy. He was a good kid—considerate to a fault. He was always buying her expensive gifts like the 40-inch flat-screen telly in the corner. She was shocked when Jayden and Tama carried it in one day. It must have cost Tama an arm and a leg. But he’d been really modest about it, saying, “It wuz nuthin’, Mum, just a five finger discount.” Janice didn’t know what sort of special that was, but it must have been great as those tellies cost well over two grand.