Shiver Sweet (4 page)

“This diversion has made traffic worse, not better.  See.  I told you there wasn’t a crash.”

Having been wedged in barely-moving traffic for what seemed like half an hour already, my patience was spent.  I shook a hand in the air.  “She’s sneaked out to meet her friends.  I just know it.  I’ll ground her for... until she’s eighteen.”  I loved Sarah so much and hated not knowing her whereabouts.

Brian gave a light laugh.  "Eighteen?  That's a bit harsh."  His eyes searched mine.  “Is there something else worrying you?”

I shook my head.  "It wouldn't be the first time she's sneaked out or stayed out later than agreed.  She’s been rebelling since John and I split up.  I just want her to be safe, that’s all." 

“Yes.  But all teens go through a rebellious stage,” Brian countered.

While Brian was dependable, caring and honest, he also occasionally played with danger.  At times he needed a nudge to realise that Sarah might have a little of his family’s wildness in her blood too.  I gave him a knowing look.  “Did you listen to your parents when you were a teenager?  I didn’t.”

Brian's smirk fell away and his hand shot up to rub his temple.  “Ground her 'til she's twenty-five and not a day earlier.”

I nodded my approval.  "And we'll tag her with a GPS."

"Deal."  Brian turned his head to the long line of stationary traffic ahead, and sighed.

We were prisoners to ice.  “What are we going to do?  I don’t want to sit here all night while my daughter swans around in the dark with... Oh, God.  She'll probably hang out with a bunch of hormone-ridden boys.”

Brian clenched his jaw.

I knew all about randy boys.  I'd lived through the stigma of being a teen mum myself.  It seemed all my friends were at it, and so I took the plunge.  Slept with two boys and ended up with child at the age of seventeen.  The shock and disappointment on my family’s faces remained buried in my mind since that day.  I saw those expressions many times over the years; struggling with childcare, losing jobs, and now my failing marriage.  I did not wish my beautiful, future-boy-magnet daughter to start sliding down the road to that same lost childhood trap and experience the hardship and judgemental looks that I’d endured. 

Perhaps I was overly worried about Sarah, but still... I wriggled in my seat.  To add to my frustration, I needed to pee.

He tapped the steering wheel.  “Okay.  Let's get out of here and find Sarah.  Claire will have to wait.  I’ll phone her in a minute and tell her what’s happening.”

“We could go back the way we came and drive around the outskirts of town,” I suggested.

He shook his head.  “Last time it snowed, that was the first road to get blocked.”

Some idiot behind us honked.  I failed to see the point.

Brian studied the next turning, about five cars ahead on the right.  “That street leads to Bear Hill.  If we can make it up there we can drive around the back lanes, get to my place from the North side.”

I glanced ahead.  The thought of driving up Bear Hill in such weather unnerved me.  “Don’t be ridiculous.  If it was safe then all these cars would be doing the same.”

“But they don’t all have four wheel drive.  Let’s take a look.”  Brian edged past the cars in front and nipped up the side road.  Apart from a couple of abandoned vehicles and a man in a long coat being led by his excited Jack Russell, the street was void of activity. 

Brian slowed on the flat stretch at the foot of Bear hill.  “I’m going for it.  If any car’s gonna make that climb, it’s this baby.”

I studied the angle of the slope.  The snow sparkled in the sparse lighting.  “I’m not sure, Brian.”

“It’s only twenty metres in length."

"We'll not make it.  It's more like thirty and it's steep."

"It looks longer than it is."

"Men are terrible with measurements," I muttered.  I held my hand out, stretched my fingers apart and indicated the distance between my thumb and tip of my little finger.  "They seem to think that
this
is eight inches."

He tried to keep a straight face, then laughed and changed the subject.  "If I drive up it diagonally, stay out of tyre tracks, I'll get more traction.  Mmm...  What do you say?”

“But what if another car...”  I stopped and studied him.  Brian might be a tad wild at times, but he was not a lunatic.  "Okay."

The car edged forward then picked up speed.  The headlights lit up the snow-thick slope.  I ground my teeth together as the front wheels mounted the incline with a little bump.  Half way up the slope, the tyres hit a patch of ice and sent us veering left toward a massive concrete retaining wall. 

“Oh, crap,” I said.

The engine revved.  “The tyres are spinning.”  He fought to keep control of our angle, until finally, we levelled out at the top. 

“That wasn’t so bad,” I said, rolling my eyes, not really meaning the words.

He turned left and drove down the gentler winding tree-lined roads that would take us north towards Brian’s neighbourhood.

I turned to stare at Bear Hill.  “I can’t believe you actually drove up that.  You are one crazy...”

“Guess it was a bit.”

Our gazes met and, a beat later, laughter burst out of us both.

“Can you see now why I worry about Sarah?  If she's got your family's crazy genes then..."

He nodded, still laughing.

"Do you think you’re a stuntman or something?” I asked, grinning while exasperated.

His eyes brightened.  “What?  Like in... Die Hard?  Or The Fast and Furious, or...”

I burst out into laughter again.  “I don’t know why I’m laughing.  You could have killed us.”

Brian followed the road to the right.  “No more stunts, I promise.” 

I turned away and looked out of my side window.  Brian could be such a kid at times but, deep down, I had to admit I secretly enjoyed that side of him.  I glanced at him and mumbled, “Dukes of Hazard if you must know.”

He chuckled and gave my thigh a little tap.  “That’ll do.”  Then, on rounding the next bend, a couple of hooded youths ran out in front, carrying a massive TV and other goods.  Looters.

I threw a hand forward.  “Watch out!”

Brian stomped on the brake.  We slid down the road.

Jesus... holy... crap!
 I gripped the dashboard and braced.

“Hold on!  Shit!”

The car skated sideways across the ice and we slammed into a tree.

CHAPTER 6

NICOLA

Once back home, Nicola locked and bolted the front door.  She pulled off her snow-covered boots and cold socks, and padded up the stair carpet to wash the green mask away and retrieve the birthday cake she’d hidden.  It wasn’t Christa’s birthday until the stroke of midnight, but the cake - meant to be eaten after the restaurant when they brought the celebrations back to Christa's house - would be a nice surprise for when she returned now their restaurant reservations had been cancelled. 

Nicola walked down to the kitchen where she poured herself a large glass of red wine and removed the cake from its packaging.  There were no signs of a second break-in.  Christa just worried too much. 

She counted out thirty-one multi-coloured candles and pushed them into the soft icing.  Once done, she slipped an
Adele
CD into the player, finished her wine and dashed upstairs to run a bath.  Hopefully, Christa would smile at being fussed over. 

Nicola pranced around the bathroom, merry from wine and singing along to the blasting music while the bath filled with hot water beneath a layer of lavender-scented bubbles.  She lined the edge of the tub with tea lights then stepped back to admire her handy work.  “Perfect.  She deserves a treat.” 

While leaving the bath running, Nicola darted back downstairs to search for a box of matches.  Trying to hit a high note in the song, she turned into the spacious kitchen, then jerked to a stop at a bang from outside.  “Oh, crap.  Not another one.”  She unlocked the patio doors and leaned out into the falling snow to assess the damage.  Yes, yet another roof slate had fallen off and shattered on the patio.  Once the snow melted, the kitchen roof was sure to leak.  They’d have to get it fixed.  If she could sort it out, that would be one less thing for Christa to worry about. 

An idea sparked.  She grabbed her mobile and phoned her latest squeeze – the guy she’d been out on a date with last weekend and had taken quite a shine to.  He was a builder, and this was the perfect excuse to phone him without looking too keen, seeing as he hadn’t phoned her yet.  “Hey, Dave.  It’s me.  How’s everything?”

“Great.  I'm glad you phoned, but I can barely hear you.  Where are you?”

Nicola raised her voice over the music and hung out of the patio doors.  “In the King's arms in town," she lied, not wanting him to think she had no social life.  "I'm phoning for a favour.  Some roof tiles have fallen off my friend's house and I wondered if you’d be able to fix it?  Mate's rates.”

“I’d have to take a look.  If the snow eases off tomorrow, I’ll pop over after work around six.  No charge.”

Nicola smiled and wound her hair around her finger while picturing his handsome face.  “I'll text you her address tomorrow.  You’re a star.”

"What was that?"

She raised her voice again.  "I said, you're a star!"

"Thanks.  I was going to phone you soon anyway.”

“Oh, yeah?” Still hanging off the door frame, she outstretched her leg and made a dint in the snow with her bare toes, enjoying the tingle.

“How are you fixed for a meal out one day this week?  My shout.”

Nicola smiled.  She closed her eyes, imagining his lips on hers again in that delicious end of evening kiss, but tried to act cool.  “I’ll have to check my diary.  What day do you have in...”  Nicola paused and opened her eyes on hearing a crunching sound in the garden, not far away.  She turned and scanned, her eyes struggling to penetrate the near pitch black shrubbery.

“Nicola?” Dave said.

“Just a minute.”  She spotted a pair of shoes beneath a stool, slipped them on and stepped out into the snow to investigate.  “I swear I just...”

Snowflakes. 

Darkness beyond.

“Forget it.  Just some drunken guys messing around outside the bar," she said, keeping up the pretence. 
Something else has probably dropped off this cranky old house.
  She frowned up at it.  "What were you saying, Dave?”  She turned to step inside the warmth of the house, but something made her glance back for a second look. 

A dark figure crept out of the bushes by the fence two metres away, something flat, book-sized, in his hand.  By his unhurried pace, Nicola had the impression he thought he’d gone unseen.

"Oi!  Who are you?”  The words rolled off her tipsy tongue before she could stop them.

"Damn," he muttered, straightened and turned, revealing a one-hole ski mask over his head.

Nicola's heart rammed against her ribs.  Stunned, she froze.  Through the hole in his black mask, Nicola saw his eyes enlarge.  For a second, he seemed as startled as she. 

Then he rushed forward. 

“Oh, shit!” Nicola turned to race back inside.  A scream tore out of her throat.

“Nic?  Nic?  What’s going on?” Dave hollered through the phone.

Fingers scratched her lower back and hooked her belt.  “Help me!”  She slipped off the step, grabbed the door for support, and then back-kicked the guy’s kneecap with all her might.

“You little bitch.”  He let out a howl of pain, and then yanked her back out of the patio doors, one-handed. 

“What the hell's happening in that pub?” Dave shouted.  “Nicola!  Shout for the doorman!”

“I’m at home!” 

The man spun her around to face him.  The phone flew out of her shaking hand and smashed apart on the kitchen tiles. 

He had plasters wrapped around his fingertips.  Anger bunched his eyes, illuminated by the light from the kitchen.  He dug his fingers into the flesh of her arm then stamped on her foot. 

Anger, fear and pain mushroomed in Nicola.  She jerked, surprising herself when her arm came free of his grasp.  She tried to close and lock the back doors, but he pushed them open.

“Get back here,” the masked man grunted, making a grab for her again.

Heart pounding so fast it became difficult to breathe, Nicola sobbed and raced for safety.  She banged against walls while sprinting through the kitchen, and then down the small corridor at the back of the house.  “Help!” she screeched, hoping her cries would echo through to the neighbouring house.   She hurriedly slapped across the tiles to the utility room, screaming over the loud music.  Breathing hard and heavy, she spun on her shoes and slammed the door with both hands to close it. 

Hot in her wake, the intruder thrust his boot into the gap, wedging the utility door ajar. 

“Noooo!” Nicola cried.  She tensed every muscle, pushing to keep him from entering.  But one jolting blow was all it took for him to fling the door open, flooring her.  “Don’t hurt me,” she pleaded, scrambling backwards on her bottom across the cold stone floor.  “What do you want?”

He strode forward until his entire shadow swallowed her.  Grabbing her by her belt with his meaty fingers, he hoisted her to her feet and slammed her shoulder blades hard against the back wall.  Air thrust out of her lungs.  She kicked and writhed under his tight, agonizing grip, her head fizzing in panic. 

A thumping heartbeat later, he seized her by the throat, trapping her screams until she choked and gagged.  Nicola vaguely registered him look up at a corner in the room just before he raised her until only the tips of her shoes grazed the floor.  Tears gushed down her cheeks.  As she squirmed and fought for freedom, instinct urged her to feel around for a weapon.  Her breaths weak and small through her constricted throat, she pawed the area, but her fingers brushed only laundry.

“Why did you have to come home?” her attacker said in a braying voice.  He shook her violently, then drew his masked face to within an inch of hers, looking at her as though she weren’t a stranger. 

She couldn't place his nasty voice which still boomed through her head. 
Who is he?