Dance with the Devil (23 page)

'So Simon knew Tom informed on him?'

'I think he guessed. He must have told his father. He was afraid of his father and he would have said anything to make himself look better in his eyes.' Her control broke, and she sobbed, 'Please save my baby.'

Drew gestured for Emma to follow him. In the hallway, he spoke softly. 'Can Tom be safely moved?'

'Yes. The bullet's still in his thigh, and he's lost a lot of blood, but we have to get him to hospital. I've done what I can for his tongue but I'd like a surgeon to see it. It could need microsurgery.'

'I'll help you get him in your vehicle. Then I'm going after Morgan.'

'Drew, you don't even know where he's gone. This is a big area. He could be anywhere.'

'I can track him, Emma. I learned how to track from a tribal elder on the cattle property I told you about.'

'That was a long time ago, Drew.'

'Yes, but I regularly take some of the kids from The Centre back to the property and refresh my skills while the old men teach them how to track.'

For the first time Emma began to hope. She hadn't said anything to Mary, but she'd felt there was little hope of getting Bethany back alive. If she wasn't dead already.

'You're going to need…'

The sound of a horse galloping up to the house had her racing back into the bedroom for the rifle. Drew was already at the front door when she ran up the hallway.

'Tom! Mary! Emma!'

Drew saw the redhead he'd passed on the road bounding up the veranda steps. Then Emma ran past him.

'Kirri! How did you know to come here?'

Kirri slapped dirt from her jeans with her hat. 'First I see you drive past like a bat out of hell, then twenty minutes later some idiot in a Rodeo nearly wipes me off the road because he's going even faster. Emma, what the hell's going on? Tom's Jeep's full of holes…'

She caught sight of Drew. 'Ah, the lawyer. Trish's description was spot on. You
do
have the most gorgeous blue eyes I've seen since Paul Newman's.'

'Mum told you about Drew?'

'Only that she had a house guest. J.D. had already filled me in.' The twinkle in Kirri's eyes indicated that Trish had elaborated. Then she grew serious. 'What's happened? I was here yesterday and everything was fine.'

'Tom's been shot.' At Kirri's astonished expression, Emma quickly explained the morning's events. 'So now we need you to drive Tom and Mary into hospital. Drew and I are going after Morgan.'

Emma waited for Drew's protest that he was going after Morgan alone, that she was to stay safe. But it didn't happen. Surprised but gratified, she led Kirri into the bedroom.

Ten minutes later, Tom was safely loaded into Emma's Land Cruiser. Mary came out of the house with a baby bag in her arms. She held it out to Emma. 'There's formula, and disposable nappies, and cl…clothing.' Her voice broke and she struggled to steady it. 'I have to be brave for Tom. He's always been there for me, now I have to look after him. I know you'll try to get Bethany back for me, but please, don't give up.'

Emma embraced her. 'We won't, Mary. I promise.' She stowed the bag inside the backpack containing her medical kit.

As the Land Cruiser drove away, Drew came out of the house carrying an old canvas backpack. 'Right. I have food, water, spare socks and other bits and pieces.' He swung it gingerly onto his shoulders and picked up the rifle.

'I can take that gear in my pack,' Emma said.

'No. You'll have enough with your medical kit.'

'Don't be stubborn, Drew. I'm used to carrying a load. You know it will rub on your back.'

'Emma, we don't know how long we might be walking. I'll carry it while I can.'

She could tell he wasn't going to change his mind. There was a quiet streak of stubbornness in him that both infuriated and amused her. Perhaps, she realised, because she shared the same characteristic.

'I'm curious,' she said, 'why didn't you tell me to go back with Kirri? Most men would have objected to a woman coming along.'

Drew reached out and touched her cheek in a soft caress. 'Just because a man wants to cherish and protect a woman doesn't mean he can't think of her as an equal.'

A wonderful glow crept into Emma's heart. Her ex-husband, for all his acknowledgment of her medical skills, had never considered her an equal. In anything.

'And,' Drew continued, 'we don't know what shape the baby's in. She might need your expertise.'

Fear returned to Emma. She hoped the blood on the baby's blanket belonged to Morgan, not to the child she'd brought into the world only a week ago.

Drew walked carefully over to the Jeep, his gaze sweeping the ground, Emma staying a few paces behind. At the driver's door he stopped and turned. They walked in silence, Drew setting a good pace, the signs easy to read in the lush new grass.

Emma thought the tracks might follow the road and lead them to where Morgan may have parked his van, but it followed a straight line - towards the mountains.

'That's National Park up there,' Emma said. 'If he goes up there, we might never find him.'

It took an hour to reach the base of the mountains. An hour in which the dread in Emma's stomach deepened. Drew stopped, unclipped a water bottle from his belt and handed it to her.

The walk across the gently undulating valley floor had been easy. Only small clumps of trees had interrupted the cleared grazing land. Now the mountains rose up in front of them, thick with rainforest, dark with ancient trees and mysterious growth.

Drew looked up at the way their path led. 'If the baby's unhurt, how long could she live without food and water?'

'It's hard to say. Babies have been trapped in crushed buildings after earthquakes and survived without anything for days. And some babies have died after a comparatively short time.'

'Then we'd better not waste any time.'

Coolness enveloped them as they gained the higher reaches of the mountain. Occasionally Drew would stop, motion for Emma to remain still, then search around until he found the trail again. He was patient, relentless, focusing totally on reading the signs. Emma's legs began to ache, but she said nothing, just walked on behind him.

They reached the top of the mountain. Emma's spirits plunged as she gazed at the valleys and mountains before them. No clearing broke the continuing canopy of trees. No movement showed in the green canvas before them. If Drew lost the trail, they would have no hope of finding Morgan. And the baby.

'Five-minute break.' Drew slung down his backpack and eased his shoulders in gentle arcs.

Emma did the same. 'Slip off your shirt. I want to check your back.'

'It's okay.' Ice-blue eyes dared her to contradict.

'Perhaps, but it's better to prevent infection than treat it. You don't want to be the cause of slowing us down.' It was a low shot, but she knew his stubbornness. She hid a smile as he began to unbutton his shirt.

His back had held up well. The cuts were scarring, and only a couple of the deeper ones on his shoulder blades were seeping under the weight of the pack.

He shrugged back into his shirt, then took a bag of sandwiches from the pack and tossed them to her. 'Vegemite, honey, or peanut butter - take your pick.'

It was two o'clock in the afternoon, and they hadn't eaten since breakfast. Even sandwiches tasted good.

'Why do you think he's come into the mountains?' Emma was trying to make sense out of what seemed to her to be an insane choice.

'Perhaps he's intending to circle around and get back onto the road. Or maybe he's gone completely around the twist and doesn't know where he's going.'

Emma grimaced. Drew had put into words what she was beginning to suspect. She folded the paper bag and shoved it into her pack. Nature was telling her it was time to find a suitable bush. 'I'll just be a minute,' she said to Drew. She envied men their ability to simply turn their backs in order to ensure privacy. Being a woman was damn time-consuming at times.

She was returning from her 'suitable bush' when she brushed against the tip of a large heart-shaped leaf. A terrible stinging pain lanced through her forearm and she cried out.

Drew was beside her within seconds. He glanced at the large tree with its purplish-red fruit clusters and cursed.

'Damn! The stinging tree. Where did it get you?'

She held up her forearm, biting her tongue to stop her tears, the sting not easing in its severity.

'Come on.' Drew took her hand and pulled her hurriedly back to their packs. From her medical kit he took adhesive Elastoplast, cut a strip and pushed it over the stung area. Emma tried not to cry out.

'I've heard about the giant stinging trees,' she said, her breath jerky, 'but I've never seen one.'

Drew nodded grimly. 'Luckily it only touched you in a small area, but there are a few hairs embedded and they'll sting like crazy for a long time. Weeks, maybe months.' He held her forearm firmly in one hand, then quickly ripped off the plaster.

Tears poured down Emma's face and she sobbed in tiny gulps. Drew embraced her gently, holding her close and soothing her with soft caresses. After a moment, she eased away. 'It's not -
as
bad now. Thank you.'

'Do you have a magnifying glass in your kit?' he asked.

'Yes. Why?'

'Those hairs are poisonous, and if there are any left in the skin, they'll keep on injecting their poison. I'm hoping the plaster pulled them all out.' He found the glass, examined the stripped area on Emma's arm. 'They're very fine and hard to see.' He checked more closely and sighed his relief. 'They appear to be gone.'

He took a knife from his pack. 'Take something for the pain. I'll be back in a second.'

Before she could ask where he was going, he hurried off in the direction of the stinging tree. She quickly found two painkillers and swallowed them, gulping down a long swig of water. Drew returned carrying a couple of large, very green leaves with long fleshy stems she recognised as coming from the cunjevoi lily. He squeezed clear sticky sap from the cut end of one of the stems onto the wound on Emma's arm. The stinging sensation was soon replaced by a numb feeling.

She smiled at Drew. 'That's wonderful.'

'Amazing, isn't it?' he grinned. 'They're poisonous to eat, but the Aboriginal people use them for pain relief from stings of all kinds. They act like a local anaesthetic. The bush banana works too, but I couldn't see any about.'

He twisted a paper bag around the stems and pushed them into his pack. Then he came back to Emma and cupped her face, brushing her tear-stained cheeks gently with his thumbs.

'You're lucky it only brushed you lightly. The cunjevoi wouldn't have helped much if we couldn't get all the hairs out. Are you okay now?'

'Yes. Thank you.'

'If I could take the pain for you, I would,' he said. He kissed her gently on her forehead and picked up his pack.

As she watched him sling it onto his broad shoulders, Emma realised she'd discovered the meaning of the word 'cherished'.

Their progress down the mountain was no less difficult than going up. In some ways it was worse. No breeze reached them, and the vegetation was thicker and wetter. Tiny rivulets of water crossed their path at numerous intervals, insects crawled onto their clothing, animals darted away at their approach. Only weak sunlight filtered through the tall straight palms and huge trees. Moss covered the tree trunks and the air felt thicker to breathe.

In some places, the slope was so steep they had to hang on to the trunks to work their way down, mulch and rocks slipping from beneath their feet and tumbling away. The moist ground and easily disturbed rocks made tracking Hadley easier for Drew, but also increased Drew's concern for Bethany's wellbeing. With each step he expected to see signs indicating that Hadley had slipped on the wet leaf-mulch and tumbled down the hillside. His worry gave way to relief when no such sign appeared.

As they climbed lower, the canopy thinned, but they still had to push their way through the dense undergrowth. Although Drew shoved the vines and branches out of their way, and held them back for Emma to pass, her arms were soon covered in scratches.

They climbed steadily downwards, their anxiety heavy in their hearts. And pervading their senses was the earthy, musty smell of decaying vegetation.

At the bottom of the mountain they came to a rock-strewn creek, shallow and wide, sparkling in the dappled sunshine. The water was cold and they stopped to drink and fill the water bottles.

Drew scouted the creek bank both upstream and downstream for several metres, then returned to where Emma waited. 'There's no sign he came back out of the creek on this side.' He sat down and took off his shoes.

Emma stared at the blood soaking Drew's socks. Then she saw the dark, worm-like creatures stuck to his feet and ankles and lying fat and full in his socks.

'Leeches,' he said matter-of-factly. 'Yours will probably be the same.'

He took a cigarette lighter from his pack, flicked it on and held the flame to a leech. Within seconds, it curled up and rolled off his foot onto the ground. He repeated the procedure as Emma took off her sneakers and soon the leeches on both their feet were gone.

On the other side of the creek they washed out their socks and put on clean ones. Emma looked at her sneakers, battered by the rough terrain, and hoped they would last. Drew's were new, but they were in little better condition. She thanked her lucky stars she'd chosen to wear jeans that morning. Shorts would have left her legs bare to the sharp and thorny plants that impeded their way.

Drew looked at the ground. 'He's not even bothering to hide his tracks. I don't think he believes we would follow him.'

'Either that or he doesn't care. He hasn't got anything left to lose now, Drew. He's lost Simon, and he thinks he's killed everyone connected to the case.'

'Then why take the baby?'

Emma rose wearily to her feet. 'Perhaps he's punishing Tom for what he did to Simon. He lost Simon, and now Tom's lost Bethany. In Morgan's warped mind, he could see it as just retribution.'

The rocks surrounding the creek became boulders, and the tracks led to higher ground. Small native figs squashed under their sneakers, permeating the air with rotting fruit odour.