Blood Feud (19 page)

I badly wanted to jam my gun down her throat to coerce her into telling me where Red was hiding, but I didn’t think the Sarge would approve of such an unorthodox method of obtaining information. So I consoled myself instead by ‘accidently’ treading heavily on her thong-clad foot with my runner as we searched her lounge room. That shut her up for a while, but did little to enhance our rapport.

During our search we found a couple of baggies of cannabis, five pirated movies, a stash of stolen goods, magazines containing violent non-consensual porn, and various illegal weapons, all of which we placed in the boot of the patrol car, accompanied by a chorus of foul language. What we didn’t find though was Red – there wasn’t a trace of him anywhere in the house.

Of course in an ideal world, we would have charged people with offences relating to our discoveries, but none of the Bycrafts would ever rat out each other, and they all denied the contraband items belonged to them. In practical terms, confiscation was our only option, though a new supply of everything would probably soon be slipping through the front door to replace the items we’d taken.

The two constables followed us around the corner to Sharnee’s house, where we performed a similar thorough search. Sharnee’s mother, Cheryl, and her two sisters, Dorrie and Kym, lived across the road from her and when they spotted two patrol cars parked in front of her house, they trooped over to lend Sharnee their support.

“Have you had any contact with Red today, Sharnee?” I asked, examining the contents of her bedroom cupboard.

Her denial was quick and quiet, but she kept her eyes lowered, not meeting mine.

“Leave her alone. She told you she hasn’t heard from him. You’ve got no right to be harassing her like this,” said a heavily pregnant Dorrie, her mean brown eyes hard with hate.

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Well, I
was
talking to you, bitchface.”

“Watch your mouth,” warned the Sarge, rifling through the drawers of Sharnee’s bedside cabinet. “You’re still on a good behaviour bond. And I will have no hesitation in dragging your sorry arse before the court for breaching it if you say something like that to Senior Constable Fuller again.”

“You can’t do that. I’m pregnant,” she retorted, protectively rubbing her swollen belly.

“I couldn’t care less. So shut up and keep out of our way. Or better still, piss off. None of this concerns you.”

“I’m not leaving my sister here alone with a couple of pigs.”

He looked up from his search and pinned her with his eyes, his face flinty. “What did I just say to you about watching your mouth?”

She tried to stare him down, but couldn’t last the distance, sullenly lowering her eyes, her lips pressed tightly together.

We conducted the rest of our search in blissful silence. And though we went through Sharnee’s house as methodically as we had Lola’s, we found no trace that Red had visited there either.

Ten minutes later, temporarily defeated, we were back in the patrol car on our return to the station, the two dispirited young cops making their way back to Big Town.

“Maybe they’re bluffing,” suggested the Sarge, pulling into the carpark of the station. “Maybe it wasn’t Bycraft who was pretending to be Jake. It might have been one of the other Bycrafts pretending to be Red pretending to be Jake.”

“That’s far too Machiavellian for that bunch of village idiots to come up with,” I said, helping to remove the confiscated items from the boot. “What are we going to do with all this stuff?”

“We’ll put what we can in the safe until we have a chance to take it to Big Town.”

“We should have given it all to those other two to take back with them.”

“We have to catalogue it first. And frankly, they couldn’t get away from us fast enough.”

“That happens a lot around here. It’s enough to make a person feel unpopular sometimes.”

“Never mind, you’ll always be popular with me.”

I laughed. “You have a real smooth mouth on you, Maguire.”

“That’s what makes me so successful with the ladies.”

I laughed again. “Had any encounters with Foxy lately?”

He gave a dramatic shudder. “No, thank God. I’ve become quite accomplished at hiding behind things to escape notice.”

“Sounds like you’re almost ready to be a detective,” I teased.

“No need to be a smartarse, Fuller.”

“But I enjoy it.”

We trooped up the stairs of the station, arms full of contraband goods.

As I catalogued each item, he managed to fit the pot, the weapons and the smaller stolen items, mostly phones and jewellery, into our small floor safe. The pirated movies and porn he placed in the bottom drawer of his desk which was fitted with a flimsy lock, first taking a moment to flick through one of the magazines.

His face crumpled in distaste. “This stuff is so depraved,” he commented.

I leaned on the back of his chair and peered over his shoulder at the disturbingly graphic pictures of restrained crying women being sexually abused by masked men. “Oh, that’s nasty. Do you think those bruises and cuts are real?”

“I hope not. I hope it’s all fake.”

I tapped one particularly unpleasant picture with my index finger with morbid curiosity. “Look at that. What in heaven’s name are they doing to her? It’s horrible. That would really hurt. Nobody could possibly enjoy being treated like that. Especially hanging upside down like she is.”

He snapped the magazine shut and pushed it into his drawer. “Someone in the Bycraft family obviously enjoys looking at them, but
you
don’t need to see things like that.”

I was momentarily taken aback. “Sarge! Don’t treat me like I’m a child. I’m an adult
and
a police officer. I can see unsavoury material without becoming hysterical.”

“I never said anything about being hysterical. I just don’t want you looking at pictures like that.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “It’s not up to you to decide what I can and can’t view.”

He stood up and looked down at me. “As your senior officer, I believe it is up to me.”

“You might be my senior officer, but you’re not my father. Or my boyfriend.”

He rested his butt on his desk and folded his arms. “Look, Tess, after what we had to witness in dealing with those bikies, I thought you’d be thanking me for –”

“For being a patronising arse?”

“No,” he said patiently, only making my temper climb faster. “For protecting you from this sort of depravity.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I know. No need to thank me.”

“God! I’m
not
thanking you. And I don’t need any ‘protection’.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Not even from Red Bycraft?”

“Well . . .” I relented. He did have a point – I’d never turn down a helping hand to stay out of
his
clutches. I suppose I should be more appreciative of having a partner who cared about my safety and well-being, no matter how over-protective he might be on occasion.

He pulled all the magazines out of his drawer. “I’m going to burn these in my barbeque right now.” He arched the same brow again. “After all, we wouldn’t want Romi looking at something – or someone – beyond her age group when she visits next, would we?”

And winking at me, he sauntered out the back door leaving me staring after him, my cheeks pinkening and my mouth hanging open with surprise.

Chapter 13

I stood watching silently as he burned the magazines. After he’d finished his barbequing, the Sarge and I called it a day. It was nudging dinnertime by then and the sun had started to set. My stomach rumbled noisily as we walked up the connecting path to his place, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

The Sarge cast me a sideways glance. “Sounds like someone’s ready for food, as per usual.”

“I’m so hungry I could even eat something you cooked,” I smiled, elbowing him in the side.

He elbowed me back, but a bit more gently than I’d been with him. “If you’re lucky, Fuller. I’ll think about it, but that’s all I’m going to promise.”

“And I promise I’ll try to muster up enough courage to eat whatever slop you deliver and the willpower to keep it down.”

He smiled. “Do you want to drop back to your place first to pick up some clothes and things?”

“I can do that while you cook,” I offered with feigned innocence. “I could drive your car.”

“Not a chance.”

“Aw, why won’t you ever let me drive it?”

“Because I’ve seen you drive.”

“Now that’s just plain rude.”

“And I don’t want my precious car involved in a high speed chase.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a chauvinist?”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a reckless driver?”

“Yes, you. Frequently.”

“I only speak the truth.”

“Well, that’s a lie right there.”

He laughed and tugged on my ponytail. So I thumped him on his hard upper arm.

“Ow! You really should stop doing that. You’re a very aggressive woman.”

“That’s not what Jakey says.”

“I shudder to think how you abuse him in the bedroom. He must be a masochist to keep going back for more.”

I thumped him again. “I’ll have you know that I’m very sweet in the bedroom. Not that it’s any of your business, so you can just stop thinking about my sex life right now.”

He popped the locks on his car with his automatic key. “I can’t think about mine – I don’t have one.”

“Diddums.” We climbed into the car and he switched on the ignition.

“Thanks for the sympathy,” he said dryly, backing down the drive. “It’s greatly appreciated.”

“You’re welcome. And weren’t you the man just boasting to me about how successful you are with women?”

“Less like boasting and more like wishful thinking,” he sighed.

“Cheer up,” I said, snuggling happily down into the leather seat, revelling in the car’s luxurious interior and the soft soul music floating from his stereo. “You do have quite the following here in town, if that makes you feel better.”

“See, other women are smart enough to recognise how lucky you are to be working with a man like me.”

I rolled my eyes and blew a raspberry. “That’s all I have to say in reply to that ridiculously egotistical comment.”

“Hey, who’s the one with the fan club and who’s the one with the bitter family feud?”

“True. I don’t think there would be many people in my fan club in this town.”

My house was quiet and closed, with a depressing air of emptiness. When I pushed open the front door, a note lying on the hall floor immediately caught my attention. I unwillingly stooped to pick it up, the blood freezing in my veins when I recognised the familiar handwriting. I ripped open the envelope.

Tessie lovely

I’m home and I’m ready to play!
See you soon!

love Red xx

“It’s true then. He’s back in town,” I said dully, showing the Sarge the note. “He gave us the slip.”

“Positive that’s his writing?” I shot him a look instead of answering. “I know, stupid question. You’ve seen it enough times before.”

A sudden scuffling noise from the kitchen had us both sprinting down the hallway, bottlenecking in the doorway. The Sarge pushed me back into the hall in that irritating way he had of trying to protect me all the time.

“Hey!” he yelled, running for the back door. “Stop!”

Not able to see past his broad back, all I caught was a flash of someone fleeing my kitchen – someone who definitely wasn’t a Bycraft.

“Hey, I ordered you to stop!” shouted the Sarge, jumping down the ramp. He chased after the intruder, me hot on his heels.

“Sarge, it’s the same guy who was at Miss G’s place,” I puffed, pounding across the open expanse of my backyard.

The man turned back to check on us, his unwashed, tangled hair brushing his shoulders, his jeans and shirt filthy, still barefoot. He accelerated, heading for the thick bushland of the lower foothills of the Coastal Range.

“I’m directing you to immediately stop!” tried the Sarge again.

“We’re going to lose him in the bush.”

The Sarge doubled his speed in a burst of energy, closing in quickly on him. For a big man, he could really move when it counted. He threw himself forward in a classic tackle manoeuvre, managing to clutch the hem of the man’s dirty, frayed jeans. The two men fell heavily to the ground, snapping branches and crushing plants on their way down.

The man twisted around, and I’ll never forget the desperate, hunted, wild expression on his face as he crunched his free foot into the Sarge’s face.

“Oh shit,” the Sarge groaned, instinctively loosening his grip on the man. He scrabbled to his feet and hared off, faster than I could catch, faster than I would have thought possible for someone who was barefoot. I chased him for a further few hundred metres before conceding defeat, out of breath.