Her Galahad (28 page)

She sped through red lights, wove in and out of lanes without indication or warning, making him screech to turn. She flew across the Glebe Island Bridge flashing her lights at other drivers, honking her horn. She circled cars at intersections, waving at furious drivers. "Come on, somebody, this is the age of angst! Let's get some road rage going here!"

She checked the mirror, laughing at Cameron's blank look of shock at her escape tactics. "That's right, mate, innocent, naive Theresa's all grown up. So catch Tessa, if you dare!"

Then Cameron flew up, bumping her rear—and, like a flash, she knew what to do. She sped through the next set of lights and rammed the four-wheel-drive into the little car in front of her, buckling in its back end with the thick bull bar.

The man who jumped out of the sedan wore a black leather biker's jacket and long, unkempt hair, and was built like a brick wall. He had a cut over one eye from the impact of the smash, and looked ready to throttle her. "What the hell are you up to, woman? You rammed me on purpose!" he bellowed. "I'm calling the cops, you psycho!" He started punching numbers into his mobile.

She climbed out of the car, sighing in relief. "Thank you."

But the Jaguar stopped, too. Cameron approached the man, his handsome face smooth and smiling. "This lady is my wife, and she's—not well. I'm happy to pay for any damage she's caused—in cash—with, say, an extra thousand in compensation?"

Tessa went white. "Please, I need your help. Call the police. This man's stalking me. He's the reason I hit you. He'll kill me if you leave. Call the police—please."

The man looked at Tessa's face, her pleading eyes, and kept punching in the emergency number. "Stay where you are, mate," he growled. "We'll let the cops sort this out."

Cameron's hands twitched. "Theresa, come to me," he purred, in that soft, hypnotizing voice he was so famous for in court.

She lifted her chin. "Go to hell," she suggested pleasantly. "Sweetheart, you need me. I'm your husband. We're together for life."

"You're not my husband, and I have proof of your crimes."

"You don't know what you're saying, darling. Of course I'm your husband. We married before God and your family, remember? You vowed to love me forever. And I vowed to keep you in sickness and health forever. I'll take care of you now while you're sick."

So he was playing mind games again. Just like when she lived with him. Hiding her things and making them reappear. Taking her money before she went out, putting it back at home. Changing dates of outings without telling her, making her think she'd got it mixed up. So loving before people, taking her body with such indignity when they were alone. Mind games, designed to drive her mad: to make her so confused she'd depend on him, weak enough to need him, too afraid to ever leave him. The kind of warped, miserable, love-hate relationship he'd had with his father—the only kind of love he knew or understood: total control of another human being. "It's not working, Cameron. My real husband's alive. I'm never coming back to you."

"Have you been with him?" He spoke softly, his eyes narrowed, flashing the old danger signals. "Did you open your legs for a dirty half-breed con?"

She flung her head higher, filled with a pride and strength he'd never seen in her. "What my husband and I do is none of your business—and you know, better than most, why he was in prison. The police are about to know why, as well."

Cameron licked his lips. "How do you think your father and Duncan will feel about you selling out your own family—"

"I don't care," she stated with cold accuracy. "After what they did to me, and to my baby—oh, yes, I found out—I owe them nothing. I'm not your wife. I never have been, thank God! I never have to put up with you again."

"You're mine, no matter what a piddling certificate states!" Cameron's fists clenched; his tawny eyes glittered in the ferocious sexual heat that made her want to throw up. "Get
over
your stupid infatuation with that loser! You're mine, destined for me before we met. You're coming home with me now!" He pulled a gun from his pocket.

She'd waited two years for this moment. She'd often wondered whether she could do it, or if he'd intimidate her. But who he grabbed her, she responded automatically. She smashed down on his wrist, making the gun fly out of his hand. She planted her feet wide, grabbed his arm and flipped him over her head in a judo throw. He landed headfirst beside her with a thump in the middle of Victoria Road. When he struggled to get up, she put her foot on his chest. "Don't bother, Cameron. That's only one maneuver I've learned in the past few years to stop you touching me."

He sighed but looked up at her with mock-sad eyes. "You know you'll regret this, Theresa. You're sick, and I'll prove it."

She merely grinned at him, and kept her foot firmly planted on his chest. "Control can be addictive, can't it, Cameron?"

The man she'd rammed into approached her with mingled respect and caution, and helped her hold Cameron down. "Whoa, lady, that was awesome. I'm glad I didn't come at you with my fists!"

The police arrived, and she was more than happy to ride in the back of the squad car to the City of Sydney Police Station.

* * *

Jirrah bolted up the steps of the massive building, too intent on finding Tess to remember the last time he'd been here—hauled up the stairs in handcuffs.

She said she'd been arrested. What was Beller doing? If he were trying to claim her as his wife, he'd have the fight of his life to do it. He'd get that mongrel out of her life—

He entered the building, and jerked back in shock. Beller was sitting with his head in his hands in the waiting area while Tess serenely gave her statement to a young policewoman and an older woman, as calm as if Beller weren't only twenty feet away.

"Tess," he called. He looked at the policeman at the desk. "I'd like to sit with my wife."

The policeman looked from him to Tess to Beller and back again, his eyes confused.

Tess turned to the constable. "Can my husband come in?"

The policeman still looked confused, but let him pass.

"He's not her husband." Beller got to his feet in an unsteady motion. "Check with Paul Saunders, her psychiatrist. She doesn't know who she is, because of her mental problems. Check her driver's license. She's Theresa Rachel Beller,
my
wife."

The policewoman frowned. "If you claim this man here is your husband, why
is
the name on your license Theresa Beller?"

"That's why we're here. Here's the marriage license for the wedding to Mr. Beller. See the date?" Tess turned to Jirrah.

"Did you bring our marriage certificate with you?"

It seemed she wanted to handle this situation. Feeling more than a little superfluous, he handed the papers over in silence.

She passed the sheaf of papers to the women. "See the date? Despite appearances, I am
not
Theresa Beller. I married this man, David Oliveri, a month before the wedding to Mr. Beller."

"The man is a convicted felon!" Cameron interrupted again. "I don't know what he's done to convince her of these lies, but—"

"Wait a minute, sir. I want details of the MVA. That's my department," the older woman said, looking confused. "CID can sort out which man is married to the lady."

"While they're working it out, I'd like to make complaints about the crimes committed against my husband by Mr. Beller and my brother, Duncan Earldon. There's conspiracy to pervert the course of justice, perjury, conspiracy to commit bigamy—"

A feral scream split the air, making almost everyone in the building jump. "There-sa!"

"And complicity to unlawfully put a child up for adoption." Tess was the only one who seemed unruffled by Cameron's yell. "I'm sure you'll find a few others if you dig deep enough."

"Don't forget the charges of attempted bribery." Jirrah plucked the two cheques out from the pile.

She gave him a smile almost blinding in its beauty. "Yes, of course. That's right. Thanks."

He couldn't help smiling back at her, but he wondered what the hell had happened to make her so strong and self-assured.

The cops looked at Beller, then at her. "You know the law?"

"My family are barristers. So is Mr. Beller."

The women blinked. "Look, Mrs.—um—we want to sort out the motor vehicle accident, and who assaulted who. We'll call in CID for the other allegations."

Jirrah, seeing she'd confused them almost beyond hope of recovery, said, "Ho w about you explain what happened tonight, Tess, from the beginning?"

She told her story from the time she left the hotel to her arrest; and Jirrah battled twin feelings of awe and loss. He was so damn proud of Tess for taking Beller down, and coming into her own strength; but he felt unnecessary. If she could take care of herself, what was left for him to do but walk out of her life when he gave her justice and freedom?

One of the policewomen asked a question. "Was Mr. Beller under the lawful impression that you're married to him?"

"That's what we need to talk to the detectives about," he said. "Our lawyer should be here any minute now."

Rod arrived as he spoke, and they were all conducted to an interview room.

The two detectives ran the same gamut of disbelief as Rod, and filled with the same grim purpose within minutes of seeing the certificates and cheques. They checked Jirrah's case on the database, and saw Cameron's name and Duncan's come up as star witnesses. They checked the dates of the court case against Tessa and Cameron's marriage certificate—and found irrefutable proof of conspiracy to commit bigamy, at least. "We need to talk to Mr. Beller," one detective said. He called to the young man at the front desk. "Bring Mr. Beller in here, please."

"He left a few minutes ago." The constable faltered. "I'm sorry. He wasn't in any trouble, was he?"

Jirrah's eyes met Tessa's, seeing his fear mirrored back at him. They knew where Cameron, thwarted of his control over her, would go—to find the only person who could help him regain his power over the woman he considered his wife, his possession.

They pushed their chairs back simultaneously.

"Wait. You can't go now," the detective said flatly. "We need you to make your statements, or we can't proceed with the case against Mr. Earldon and Mr. Beller."

"Sit down," Rod added. "We have to put this in motion before we can do anything else. And Tessa needs to sign a statement admitting culpability in the MVA before they'll let her go anywhere. Your car needs to be seen to, as well, doesn't it?"

"No." Her voice was thin, scratchy with fear. "Only the bull bar has any damage." Her hand groped until it found his.

Jirrah looked at her again, seeing the same sick fear in her eyes he knew filled his own. Every minute they delayed, Beller got a step closer to Emily—and they still had no idea where to find their daughter. Beller now knew he had no hope of getting out of this unscathed unless he had insurance. They had to get out of here fast. But what choice did they have?

He sat down again, and saw Tess, white-faced, follow suit.

Chapter 16

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A
n hour later, in an austere white-and-silver bank vault in the center of the city, Tessa held the safe-deposit box in her hands. Only one piece of paper remained inside.

Jirrah shrugged. "I thought we'd find it empty by now. Duncan's had a whole day."

"We have enough on him and Beller for an open and shut case, anyway," Rod added. "This is nothing big."