Dance with the Devil (12 page)

Yesterday they had ridden around the property boundaries, and although there had been no sign of any strangers, Drew remained convinced that whoever had tried to kill him had not given up. When he returned to Cairns, it would be safer for Emma if he didn't contact her again until after the perpetrator was caught.
If
he was caught. But for now Drew would use whatever means he could to try to build a relationship with Emma.

'That was J.D.,' Emma said as she hung up. 'Phone lines are fixed, electricity should be on within the hour. And the road to Cairns is clear.'

A strange mixture of relief and regret raced through Drew. At last he would be able to begin searching for his would-be killer, but his time with Emma would end.

'J.D. said he explained to the police about having to bury Dad here because of the flooding. They've accepted that it's only temporary, and the fact that I'm a doctor helped.'

'Did he mention when they want to interview me?'

Emma nodded. 'As soon as you get back to Cairns. They're sending someone to your fishing shack to look for clues, and to ask around if anyone saw a white van.'

Drew didn't hold much hope of that: the shack was isolated and the road in didn't go past any neighbouring houses.

'I've asked J.D. to look after the horses and the dogs while I drive you into Cairns,' Emma continued. 'Now I'm going to phone Mum and let her know I'll be arriving tonight.'

The floodwater had retreated off the road but it lay in paddocks and swirled brown in swollen creeks. The pink-stained evening sky gave a strange beauty to the uprooted trees and broken branches, the damaged and destroyed buildings.

The road was deserted, save for one car driving towards them. Emma tensed, aware of their vulnerability out here in the open, only mildly reassured by the rifle concealed in the back of the vehicle.

She only relaxed after the car, with its friendly waving driver, was some distance behind them.

They turned at the highway and drove north, passing through kilometre after kilometre of fields of sugar cane, some completely flattened against the earth, some with stalks responding weakly to the sun's warmth and attempting to rise skywards.

As they passed through the small town of Gordonvale, a lump formed in Emma's throat at the devastation caused by the cyclone. Bulldozers were razing those buildings that were beyond repair, trucks carting away the rubble. The general store, where her parents had shopped since before she was born, was now a roofless mass of twisted shelves and scattered groceries.

The light began to fade as they reached the outskirts of Cairns. There appeared to be less destruction here, though the potholed highway and scoured-out gullies testified to the torrents of floodwater which had now receded.

'Where am I taking you?'

They were the first words Emma had spoken since they'd left the property, and they sounded as though she'd had to force them from her throat. Drew wondered if she was feeling as awkward as he did.

'Dario Frenetti - a friend of mine. He has a spare key to my house. He keeps an eye on things for me when I go on holidays.'

'Where does he live?'

'Bayview Heights, southside.'

Street lights flickered into the dusk, then shone brightly. Emma switched on the headlights.

She couldn't shrug off a feeling of unreality as she watched the ebb and flow of traffic, people walking along footpaths, going into shops, youngsters laughing and shouting in the warm evening air. She had driven through so many towns in the past few years, so many places that were only names. She'd felt no connection with them, an isolated soul in an isolated truck, driving out into desolate places to help despairing people.

This city was as familiar to her as the road to her father's property. She had spent most of her university holidays with her mother and stepfather, and she had interned at Cairns Base Hospital. But tonight she felt like a stranger traversing unknown territory. The events of the past few days seemed to have severed her connection to her previous life.

The traffic flowed smoothly and soon the Land Cruiser was winding its way up the steep hills that surrounded the city like battlements.

Drew indicated a high-set brick house bordered by palm trees and lush tropical gardens. Light spilled out from the open living-room curtains onto the veranda that ran the full length of the front.

'Great view,' Emma said, nodding to the house and city lights that tumbled down to the harbour.

Drew nodded. He swung open his door as Emma parked the vehicle. 'Come in. I'd like you to meet Dario.'

Meeting Drew's friend wasn't something Emma wanted to do. It would add another dimension to the man, and she was trying desperately not to let herself feel any more for him. But she was beside him as he walked the shrub-lined path to the front door. He pressed a button on the wall and they heard chimes echo through the house.

Through the security screen door, she could see a staircase and a doorway leading into a rumpus room. Heavy metal music from a house across the street thumped through the air. No-one came to open the door.

Drew pushed the doorbell again. He rested his hand on the security-door handle, and fear slashed through him like a knife as the door swung gently open.

He looked at Emma. 'Something's wrong.'

'Why? Because the door's not locked? He probably forgot…'

'Dario's the most security-conscious person I know.' Drew walked inside. 'Stay here.'

Emma ignored him and followed. She heard his sigh of exasperation and ignored that too.

Drew walked softly up the stairs. The living room was empty. The kitchen was empty. Saucepans bubbled on the stove, a spicy aroma wafted from a casserole in the oven. School books lay open on the dining-room table, a half-empty glass of milk beside them.

With each step he took up the hallway, with each reluctant glance into bedrooms and bathroom, the fear in Drew's stomach grew.

Empty.

Empty.

Empty.

'Downstairs.'

His voice must have betrayed his feelings. Emma caught his arm. 'What do you think has happened?'

He shook his head as he hurried back along the hallway and down the stairs.

A white cane lounge with colourful cushions, rows of bookcases, television and a large stereo unit filled the rumpus room. Toys vied for floor space with books and games.

Drew crossed the room and hesitated at the doorway leading into the spare bathroom and toilet. Emma stood, watching him, a frown creasing her forehead.

The bathroom was empty.

Relief began to trickle into Drew's bloodstream. Perhaps Emma was right. Perhaps Dario had had to rush off somewhere and had simply forgotten to lock the door. Improbable, but not impossible.

He turned - and stopped breathing.

Stark against the white floor tiles, bright red blood had pooled under the laundry door.

Drew pushed Emma back into the rumpus room and held a finger to his lips. She nodded. Drew glanced around for a weapon, grabbed a broom leaning against the wall.

Slowly, very slowly, he opened the door.

Hadley cursed, using words he hadn't uttered for more than twenty years.

The Defender was alive
!

But Ivy had said he was dead!

How had he survived? Had this woman saved him? The woman who had brought him here tonight? The woman who he knew even now must be staring at his accomplished mission.

He had slipped out the laundry door into the backyard just as he heard the Defender's voice at the door. His shock was so acute, he almost came back inside to check visually.

The Prosecutor's blood was fresh on his hands and he wanted to wash it away. It was important that he not enjoy the tasks he had set himself. Only the reparation was important. Only by making atonement could he save Simon's soul from eternal damnation.

From his cover of shrubbery in the backyard, he could see through the rumpus room window.

His ears had not deceived him.

The Defender had not risen from the dead, because he had not died.

He would tonight.

Emma searched for a pulse.

None.

She looked up at Drew, the paleness of his face, the tightness of his jaw as he strove to keep his emotions in check. Blood stained his jeans where he'd knelt beside the body of his friend.

'He must have been killed just before we arrived. The blood's still fresh.' Anguish twisted his mouth. 'Why the hell didn't I come in here first!'

Emma stood up. 'I'll phone the police.'

'No. I'll do it. I know them.' His eyes were haunted as he looked down at Dario, at the dirty cloth gagging the mouth, pinching in the black curly hair. Blood, from Dario's split bottom lip, had dripped through the black chest hairs and onto Dario's fawn cargo pants. His hands were tied behind his back, the rope passing down and tightened around his ankles. His bare feet, pale and clean, looked strangely vulnerable.

The handle of a dagger protruded from Dario's back. A strange, almost homemade-looking, dagger. Little blood had flowed from this wound, but another jagged wound sliced across from shoulder to spine. Emma surmised Dario must have been forced into a kneeling position, then tried to evade his killer as the first blow was struck. It was this wound that had bled so profusely. The second blow would have pierced the heart, killing him instantly.

'He was a good friend.' Drew choked on the words and stumbled from the room. Emma felt his sorrow pierce her own heart.

Within a minute, he returned.

'It's Tuesday today, isn't it?'

'Yes.'

Drew nodded towards the rumpus room. 'Come out here and sit down. You look a bit pale.'

He sank onto the lounge. Emma sat beside him, tentatively placing her hand over his where it lay on his thigh. He turned his hand, clasped hers, entwined their fingers. She gave a reassuring squeeze and felt the need for comfort in his answering grip.

'Angie, Dario's wife, takes their son to music lessons on Tuesday evenings. Dario cooks dinner. It's a deal they've got - Dario reckons half an hour of listening to Steven massacre the trombone…'

The pressure of Drew's hand tightened, and Emma felt her knuckles crunch together. In the distance, she could hear a siren.

Soon a police car was pulling to a stop outside.

Detective Mick Landers was tall, balding, and carried his beer gut with a slight sway caused by careful nursing of painful bunions. He'd been assigned to the Cairns Criminal Investigation Branch two years ago and had developed a patient tolerance for the laid-back 'she'll be right, mate' attitude typical of the tropical north Queensland city.

His attitude to things criminal was a different matter, and his questioning of Drew and Emma thorough and astute. He'd read the report radioed in by J.D. about the attempt on Drew's life, and had organised the police search of Drew's fishing shack. As he assessed the young lawyer's responses he considered all the possible connections between the two crimes.

Twenty minutes later, Angie and Steven were brought home in a police car. Emma could tell by the other woman's expression that Angie had guessed whatever awaited them wasn't good. Drew's voice faltered as he broke the news to them.

Angie sat rigid with shock and grief as they were questioned by the police. Steven, a Dario in miniature, huddled into her.

When he saw that Angie had reached the limits of her endurance, Drew stepped in and spoke to Mick, then phoned Angie's parents to take her to their home.

As Drew had said, he knew most of the police, and Emma saw the mutual respect evident between them. The questioning went on for hours. The Scenes-Of-Crime Officer queried Emma regarding the position of the body and what she had touched. Then they had to go to the police station and make formal statements, not only about Dario's murder but the attempt on Drew's life. The Police Dog Squad had lost the scent of the killer a block from Dario's house, and a neighbourhood door-to-door search had revealed no clues to his identity. It was clear the police were hoping Drew could give them some clue about where to direct their investigations.

It was nearly midnight by the time Emma and Drew left the police station. Drew had managed to persuade Mick to let him take the keys to his house from the board hanging in Dario's kitchen. It was only because Drew's name was on the ID tag attached to the key ring, and Angie's assurance that they belonged to Drew, that he had been allowed to remove them from the crime scene.

Emma slipped into the driver's seat and clipped on her seatbelt. She felt almost sick with fatigue. The sooner she could get Drew home and go on to her mother's house, the better.

She was surprised when Drew directed her to one of the older suburbs of Cairns, and even more so when he told her to pull into the driveway of an old weatherboard home. Either he was a lousy lawyer who couldn't make a dollar, she thought, or he was more interested in location as the house was only one street back from the esplanade running alongside Trinity Bay.

The house was in the middle of the street, far enough away from the lights of the Esplanade that Emma found it difficult to make out the expression on Drew's face. He sat, unmoving, until Emma turned off the engine. After a few moments, he roused himself.

'This may sound strange,' he said, 'but I'm hungry. Would you like to share a midnight snack with me?'

There was something in his voice, some thread of tension, of pain, that turned Emma's instinctive refusal into acceptance. She locked the Land Cruiser and followed him to the front door.

'Sorry about the jungle,' Drew pushed aside the frond of a fantailed palm leaning over the path. 'Gardening was on my agenda after my holiday.'

Canvas drop-sheets covered the furniture in the living room, and the smell of paint was heavy in the air. Drew pushed open windows and threw the cover off a sofa.

'Some fresh air will help with the smell. I painted before I left on holidays. I'll take a few things out of the freezer. Tea or coffee?'

'Coffee, please. White with…'