To an outsider it might have seemed an insensitive statement to make in front of Mak, who had already lost her best friend, Catherine, to the man, as well as being assaulted herself, but Mak knew what Andy meant. By escaping custody and seriously injuring police officers, Ed Brown had taken it one step further. The police protected their own. It was an understood thing. Everyone on the police force would be gunning for him now.
‘I don’t think the boss knows quite what to do with me,’ Andy admitted. ‘Now that Ed is out, the feeling is that they need me. I caught him last time. But now with Jimmy as he is, they can’t even
let
me work until I go through the whole procedure of critical incident counselling and an evaluation to make sure I’m “stable”, as they put it. I’m getting evaluated tomorrow. Can you believe it? I should be combing the streets for him right now and they won’t let me work. That was the problem in the first place. If they’d only bloody let me do my job this might never have happened.’
‘I understand how you must be feeling. But there’s a reason for those protocols. You’re not immune to grief, Andy, no one is. I’m sure they have everyone available on the case. You can take one day away from it. Ed is not solely your
responsibility.’ Mak worried that Jimmy’s state would put Andy straight on the bottle again. That was probably what his superiors were worried about too.
‘Well, don’t you just sound like the shrink now?’ he quipped.
That stung. She supposed he was joking, but the words hurt. She was only trying to be a friend.
‘Can we talk about something else?’ he said.
That was fine by Mak. ‘I actually realised this morning that we haven’t talked about much of anything at all, in fact. We’ve barely spoken since I’ve been here.’ The incident on the rocks at Bondi Beach, though intimate, didn’t involve much chitchat. Nor did their water conservation in the shower. ‘I’m sure what you
really
want to do right now is talk about us. ‘Now
there’s
a light bit of conversation.’ She laughed.
‘I feel bad about what happened the other day.’
‘With Carol?’ Mak asked.
‘It wasn’t what it looked like, you know.’
‘It’s okay, you don’t have to explain.’
‘I
do
have to explain if you don’t believe me, Mak.’
‘I believe you, Andy. That’s not an issue.’
‘It’s not?’
‘I’ve always believed you.’ The thing with Carol didn’t matter. What mattered was that theirs was an untenable liaison. It could never last. What could she say to him? That she thought they ought to jump in the sack together, only to be separated by the continents again in a few more hours? ‘It
doesn’t matter. We’ve made too much of a big deal about it already.’
The waiter came with their lattes, served in tall glasses with long spoons. Mak emptied a packet of sugar into hers, and spooned it up like a dessert.
‘So what do you think of my posse?’ she asked.
The officers of the day were sitting in the breakfast area near the elevators across the lobby. Although they were in plain clothes, they were conspicuous by their ‘alert-idleness’—reading the paper with their eyes elsewhere, backs too straight, looking a little too awake. Mak had noticed that they were watching her and Andy with interest. Perhaps they knew something about the past they had shared. She supposed everyone knew.
‘Yeah, I spotted them.’
‘Recognise them?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘They’re not detectives. They’ve been alright with you, I hope?’
‘I couldn’t say yet. I’ve only had those two since nine this morning.’ She leaned towards him and lowered her voice. ‘So do you really think Ed would bother coming after me? It would be a bit risky for him, wouldn’t it?’
Andy didn’t say anything at first and Mak waited for an answer. She went to take a sip of her latte, but her stomach had begun freezing up at the thought of Ed.
Will he really come after me?
‘Mak, I don’t think we should take any chances,’ Andy told her. ‘I’m glad we have protection for you while you’re here. Risk and rationale have little to
do with how someone like Ed Brown operates. The whole time he was in remand they kept his cell pretty spartan, but when they turned it over the other day they found a newspaper photo of you taped to the back of a picture of his mother. That’s not good. He would have had to go to some lengths to hide it, too.’
The base of Makedde’s skull began to ache.
He had a photo of me.
Her toe began to tingle. It soon became a full-blown itch.
‘Right,’ she said in a dull voice.
‘I wasn’t sure if I should tell you that, but I think it’s best that you know everything. Unfortunately, he doesn’t seem to have forgotten about you. I thought you should know.’
Jesus. He is going to try to come after me. He really is.
‘Mak, I…’ He trailed off. ‘I’ll be sad to see you go tonight.’
‘I know, Andy, but I think we both agree that it’s best.’
He took her statement in, and said nothing. She wanted him to say something, anything. She realised that some part of her wanted him to protest. But he remained silent.
‘I had a good time, Andy,’ she said, holding back her emotions.
‘Me too,’ he said.
It really was over. That was it.
Lisa Milgate was in a foul mood.
In her own mind, she had long since reverted to her maiden name. Inconveniently, however, she was still technically Lisa Harpin, though not for much longer. Her soon-to-be ex-husband had not returned any of her recent phone calls, and now she had to resort to knocking on his door. His lack of respect for her time infuriated her. Did Ben think she had nothing better to do than chase him around?
This is probably some lame attempt to rekindle our relationship
, Lisa thought as she parked her new baby-blue Jaguar in the street—a gift from Heinrich, complete with custom paint job. She stepped out of the car and squinted narrowly at the house that was once their marital home. The yard looked unkempt. Ben had obviously not cut the lawn recently.
The neighbours would be unhappy with him
, she thought. There were certain standards that must be kept.
He knows I’ll come knocking. He’ll be loving this. The arsehole.
Lisa wanted her divorce. Now. And she wasn’t going to take any more of Ben’s procrastination. It had been just over a year since she had moved out
and moved on, and now she wanted to make it legal. She stormed up the driveway to the front door with her fists clenched. The familiar doorbell chimed through the house. Lisa waited impatiently for the sound of Ben’s footsteps. She thought she heard something stir upstairs.
Come on, hurry up.
She pressed the bell again and anticipated his presence at the door, probably wearing a filthy T-shirt and jogging pants, looking as if he hadn’t left the house in days. She stood ready with her hands on her hips, chest out. Her new car was parked directly across the lawn so he couldn’t possibly miss it. He would take one look and know how beyond him she was. Success is the best revenge. He couldn’t argue with that.
Lisa was distinctly uninterested in having any discussions with Ben about saving their marriage, or about the prospect of marriage counselling, which is what he kept asking for. He’d fucked around on her and the time for negotiation was over. She was with Heinrich now, and that was that. Heinrich, who among other positive characteristics had a job, for starters.
She leaned on the doorbell.
No answer.
This is bullshit. He’s in there. I heard him. He’s in there sitting on his damn couch in front of the damn television drinking a damn beer and ignoring me.
Lisa tossed back her hair, set her mouth with grim determination and laid into the door with the palms of both hands.
‘Open up!’
‘Who is that woman? What does she want?’ Ed Brown demanded, holding the Prison Lady tight by the arm and squeezing fiercely. He had her on her knees, frozen with fear. The two were in the living room near the closed curtains, being as quiet and still as possible until the intruder went away. Ed pulled the curtains aside a fraction and peered out at the stranger, not letting go of Suzie’s arm. The woman was not budging.
‘Who is this person?’ he whispered again, angrily.
With the Prison Lady kneeling on the carpet in pathetic, numb silence, the strange woman continued to drum on the front door and yell. Was she a neighbour? A friend of the Prison Lady? Would she bring the police? Was
she
a plainclothes police officer herself?
‘Ben, open up!’ the woman shouted, and rang the doorbell several times in quick succession.
Ben? Who is Ben?
‘Ed, sweetheart, just calm down,’ the Prison Lady began in a whisper.
Ed looked down at her impassively. Pleading on her knees as she was, she looked like she was praying to Jesus, as if he, Ed Brown, were the Saviour himself. It was almost enough to make him laugh out loud.
‘I can explain…’
‘Dammit, I know you’re in there!’ came the screeching voice outside the front door.
‘Who is she?’ Ed demanded with another hot flash of rage. With one mighty shove he pushed the Prison Lady to the ground until her face was squished into the carpet.
‘It’s okay, honey…just relax. I’ll explain everything, I promise,’ she managed to say in a voice muffled by the carpet. ‘Don’t look out the window again or she might see you.’
Ed let go of her and stood rigid next to the closed curtains. He wanted to peek out again and see if the police were surrounding the house. But maybe she was right. Someone might see the curtains move. He turned towards the entrance to the kitchen and spotted the knife rack. He could take one of those and put it to the Prison Lady’s throat. He could use her as a hostage if the police stormed in.
‘It’s okay…It’s okay…’ the Prison Lady mumbled, still on her knees.
He ignored her and listened for movement outside. After a few tense minutes, the knocking finally stopped.
Ed heard heels click on the driveway. He peered through a crack in the curtains and saw the woman get into the shiny blue sports car, slam the door and drive away. Relief. Things were quiet again. The emergency had passed. For the moment, at least.
Ed paced in circles in the living room, trying to calm himself and decide what to do. Ed did not like surprises. He did not deal well with surprises. When he did anything, he planned it carefully. Everything had to be perfect. Organised. The last time he had
been surprised it was by Andy Flynn and his detective partner when he had been alone with Makedde, and that surprise had led to his arrest. The deep, jagged scar on his shoulder was testament to the bullet that had brought him down, but not killed him. No, he did not like surprises at all.
Ed had never before been at the mercy of someone else in a situation like this, except for his mother. His head was full of murder now. He imagined grabbing the Prison Lady and gutting her with one of the kitchen knives. He’d spotted a hefty butcher’s blade that would be suitable for that purpose. He could gut her, grab whatever valuables he could carry and speed off in the car. Then there would be no more surprises or unanswered questions. No more of this ugly woman with her awful kisses and dirty mouth. It would all be up to him again. He could be out of the city in an hour with a carload of things to pawn. The main problem was that if he killed her now, the hope of getting a decent amount was gone. The money he got for what he sold would quickly dry up, he knew, and getting a job at the moment was not an option. That simple reality stopped him. He’d waited this long. Killing her now was not in his plan. He had to calm himself and think.
Be nice to her. You still need her money. Don’t kill her yet. Just find out who that was and how much time you have to get out.
‘Sweetheart, don’t worry. That was nothing…’ the Prison Lady was saying, still trying to placate him. Noticing that he was calming down, she rose
slowly from her knees, apologetic. ‘Darling, I’m so sorry. I understand you must be scared. Just trust me. There is nothing to worry about. I can explain,’ she said.
Now Ed was calm enough to talk and to hear her explanation. He tried his best to be civil for the sake of the money. ‘Oh, darling,’ he said, ‘
I’m
sorry for getting angry. I guess I’m just so worried about the police. I’m sorry if I hurt you.’
‘It’s okay, honey. I understand!’ She rushed to him and squeezed his hand. She seemed surprisingly eager to forgive his temper, and grateful that he was being kind to her again. Ed had not seen this sort of behaviour before. Not towards him, anyway.
‘Let’s sit down and you can tell me why someone was at the door,’ he said gently.
They walked to the couch holding hands. Her skin felt greasy and he looked forward to washing as soon as he decently could. Ed was still on edge, but his panic was gradually fading. The sweat had dried on his brow. His head was quiet again and he could think rationally. He sat beside the Prison Lady and let her speak.
‘Well, I…I wanted this lovely home for us. A perfect love nest,’ she began.
‘Yes, darling. But we can’t have people knocking on the door.’
‘I know, I know…but, what I am trying to tell you is that this house was my brother’s before you came, you see.’
‘Your brother’s?’
‘Yes, Ben. Ben is my brother. The deceased family member I was talking about. That was his wife, Lisa, at the door. But this isn’t her house. She left him. It’s Ben’s…This is where I must make a confession. I should have told you before, I guess, but I didn’t want to burden you. I hope you’re not angry with me.’
‘Just tell me what it is. How could I be angry with you?’ He stroked her ugly face with the same hand she had already dirtied with her sweaty palm. ‘You, the woman who believed in me? The woman who saved me?’
She smiled with thin lips. Now she seemed ready to tell him.
‘I had to get rid of my brother so we could stay here,’ the Prison Lady said.
What was she saying: ‘get rid of’?