The Charlton Affair (29 page)

Suddenly he thought of Phoebe. Some of the words Stillman was saying began to sink in. Stillman had Phoebe somewhere. He would hurt her if Michael didn’t do what he wanted. Michael’s panic began to fade. He began to think about all the horrible things that had happened in his life and he got angry.

Glaring at Stillman’s smirking face, he interrupted him, “You killed Harry and Ranelle, didn’t you?”

Stillman smiled at him and nodded slowly, deliberately, as if he was savoring Michael’s sudden understanding.

He replied, “Ahh, I see you’re starting to catch on. You always were quite slow. Those fools deserved to die. Do-gooders, both of them. I enjoyed that. It was so easy, a pillow over her face as she slept. He was too drunk to even notice her thrashing around. He’d spent the evening at the pub, as usual. Then it was his turn.” Stillman rubbed his large hands together, emphasizing his satisfaction.

Michael could feel his anger rising. Honore’s sweet face appeared in his mind.

“You hurt Honore, too. You abused her!” Michael accused.

Stillman looked surprised, but unrepentant.

“She kept a diary, you disgusting fuck,” Michael snarled at him.

Stillman looked at him, “So what? She amused me for a time.”

Michael’s face went white when he finally understood Stillman was controlling and hurting people long before their parent’s died. He could hardly bear to think about it but the thoughts came into his mind unbidden. Profoundly shocked at the conclusion his mind had drawn, Michael looked at Stillman and said in a dead voice, “You killed Mum and Dad. You lied about hiding. It was you trying to find me, to kill me.”

Stillman looked triumphant. “Not so stupid after all,” he conceded.

Michael stared hard at him, the man responsible for every torturous harm he had ever suffered. He could hardly believe it. The monstrosity of it was overwhelming. And here he was, about to do it to him yet again.

Stillman laughed at his expression, “Yes, if I’d been able to find you back then, I wouldn’t have to go to all this bother now. I’d have inherited everything. Although I have to admit, I’ve had a lot of fun over the last six months. I’ve enjoyed watching you. Teasing you. Removing your lovely mistress. She was a tasty treat by the way. Did you know she was sleeping with me the whole time she was sleeping with you? She only slept with you because I manipulated her into it. Told her you’d solve her money problems.”

Michael continued to stare at him with unadulterated hatred.

Stillman said, “Back to business, little brother.” He shoved some papers across the desk toward Michael.

“Sign them, unless you want me to torture your lovely wife.”

Michael looked at them. The papers were an authority to transfer his inheritance to an account at the Grand Cayman Banking Corporation.

Stillman said casually, “She’s a dyke, by the way. Did you know that, brother? You married a lesbian.”

Michael looked up in confusion.

Stillman laughed at him.

Still laughing, Stillman said, “I’m her therapist. I know more about her than you do!”

Michael made to stand up. Stillman beat him to it. Dwarfing Michael with his bulk, he threatened him, “Sign now! Or I’ll hurt you as well as her.”

Michael took the pen Stillman proffered. Stopping, he said, “What happens after I sign?”

“I was going to kill you, for old times sake. To tie up loose ends. But I’ve changed my mind. I like having you alive knowing that I’ve taken away everyone that ever loved you. I like it that someone knows what I’ve achieved, even if it’s only you. But if you breathe a whisper to anyone, ever…then you’ll die, slowly, without mercy.”

“What about Phoebe?” Michael demanded.

“She dies. Quickly, painlessly, if you sign. If you don’t sign…” Stillman sneered at Michael, “then I’ll make her suffer in ways you can’t even imagine.”

Michael knew he was capable of just that. He signed. Stillman’s word was worthless, but he would take any chance at all to save Phoebe from suffering.

Stillman took the papers. Folding them carefully, he placed them in his pocket.

“Now leave,” He ordered Michael. “Pay your account. Look as though nothing is wrong. Go get into your car and drive home. Remember, I’m watching you. No matter where I am, I can always watch you. And I can hurt you.”

Numbly, Michael obeyed him.

*****

Sally frantically radioed the message from Amanda through to Michael's surveillance officer. He replied that Rawlins’ vehicle had not moved. He was still inside at his therapy appointment. She instructed the officer to enter the premises and arrest the therapist, Martin Briggs. Backup was en route.

She ran to her vehicle, still clutching the portable radio. Phillips and Poulsen followed her. Phillips drove them towards Wilston. The Inspector followed them in his own vehicle.

The radio crackled to life en route. Neither Briggs, nor Rawlins were at the Wilston Wellness Center. Briggs apparently drove a Nissan Maxima. It was missing from his car park at the back of the premises.

Sally punched the dash in sheer frustration, crying out, “Fuck!”

*****

Amanda drove into the makeshift dirt car park at the rear of the Wilston Wellness Center. It was not really a car park, just an undeveloped rear lot with some trees and some worn places where cars regularly parked. No doubt it was a muddy quagmire when it rained.

Michael’s red Audi was in one of the first spaces, clearly visible to the street. The green Nissan Maxima was a few vehicles down, visible only once she rounded the corner at the rear of the double story building. It was missing a taillight. She found a place to park under a tree behind several other vehicles. After sinking down low she held up a small mirror so that she could see the rear door of the building. Within moments, Briggs emerged and got into the Maxima. Still ducking down, she started the car and waited for him to turn the corner before she pulled out.

Just as she pulled back out of her space, Michael emerged from the rear door. Urgently, she gestured for him to get into her car. Looking incredibly surprised, he jumped in.

“Get down! Hide,” she hissed at him urgently, as she drove off quickly. He ducked down low in the passenger seat. She saw a vehicle in the distance with only one taillight, turning left. Quickly she caught up to it and tailed it carefully as it drove northbound.

Michael moved uncomfortably.

“Stay down,” she said, “We’re not far behind him now. I don’t want him to see you.”

He nodded.

“What happened?”

Michael told her about the meeting with Stillman. When he was finished, she said, “Call the police, tell them what we’re doing and where we are.”

He dialed the emergency number. Amanda listened as he tried to get put through to someone who knew something about the investigation. It took ages. She tried not to be distracted as she followed Stillman down Rode Road. She slowed to allow some distance between them. He turned onto a side street and then down several more. She adroitly followed him, pulling up immediately behind a vehicle when she saw him slowing down. She watched the Nissan pulling into a driveway further down the street.

Michael was finally speaking to someone involved in the investigation. Amanda could hear him explaining where they were and what they were doing. When he had given them the location clearly, she reached over and took the phone from him, ending the call.

“We have to put our phones on silent or leave them here,” Amanda explained.

When he realizing what she intended to do, he baulked, “He’ll kill us both!”

“We’re her only chance, Michael. If we don’t get her out, she’ll die.”

“I know,” he said shuddering in fear and horror, rooted to the spot.

Amanda reached under her seat and grabbed a tire iron she always kept handy.

With her other hand she handed him her phone.

“If you’re not coming, call Charlie and tell her where we are.”

She closed her car door and walked off down the street. She knew what she had to do, with or without him.

*****

Poulsen took down the details about the Nissan’s infringements coming through the police radio. Sally would want the information, especially the registered address for the Nissan. Sally was on her phone, pacing up and down the footpath outside the Wilston Wellness Center. Phillips was just coming out of the Center’s front door.

Suddenly Sally ended her call and cried out to Phillips. He came running and both of them jumped in the car.

“What?” Poulsen asked.

“He’s got her at a house in Chermside West,” Sally answered as Phillips threw the vehicle into motion and they hurtled off down the street. Sally flipped the switch for the lights and sirens as Phillips picked up the speed.

Poulsen buckled her seat belt.

She muttered to herself as she hung on tightly, “Guess they don’t need that infringement information...”

*****

Amanda couldn’t see into the old weatherboard house. Trees and ferns formed a dense privacy screen at the front of the property and the windows all had closed curtains. The garage roller door was shut.

She moved to the next property along. It was open fronted and she could see all the way down the six-foot tall timber fence separating the two properties. With no time for niceties, she strode down the fence line, trespassing until she got to a spot that corresponded with the back of Stillman’s house.

After stepping up onto the first railing, she placed her hands on top of the fence and pulled herself up to see over. Suddenly she heard someone approaching. She looked down behind her and was relieved to see Michael. Grateful he’d found his nerve, she gestured for him to jump up next to her.

Together they examined the view into Stillman’s back yard. His yard was well treed and fully fenced. They could see the old house with the attached garage. There were a number of ground floor windows, all of them with security bars. No one was in sight.

There was nothing for it but to go over. After stepping back down down she grabbed the tire iron and dropped it over the fence before hoisting herself back up and over. He followed and they ran over to the back of the garage to a sheltered area where they would not be visible from the house. Crouching, Amanda carefully ducked as she scrambled around the corner to a spot just under the first window. Michael followed her. From their position under the window, they rose slowly and peered inside. It was an empty room. Continuing along they did the same at the next window.

It was a larger window. When they looked inside, they saw a lounge room. Amanda saw movement. Stillman was in there, on the telephone, pacing. They ducked quickly back down and moved further along until they came to a doorway. After slipping past it quickly, they passed the next lounge window and came to the last window. Michael’s head popped up first and he nearly cried out when he saw Phoebe inside, tied to the bed. Her jaw opened when she saw him, a piece of tape flapped, stuck to her upper lip, but she made no sound. Amanda yanked him back down with her and made sure he was looking at her. She held her finger to her lips, eyeing him sternly. He nodded, clearly still shaken.

She carefully led him back to the doorway, stopping to check at the other lounge window on the way. Stillman was nowhere in sight. Knowing they were out of time, she whispered, “The cops will be here soon, all we have to do is distract him until they get here.”

*****

Charlie ran frantically to the hospital car park. She jumped into her Lexus and left the car park as quickly as she could. She broke the speed limit along with a swath of other traffic laws as she pushed the Lexus to its limits. The address Michael had left on her phone message-bank was at least anther five minutes away, even at the speed she was doing. She ran another red light as she turned into Rode Road, praying desperately for Phoebe, and for Amanda and Michael’s survival.

*****

Amanda and Michael heard a blood-curdling scream. Michael recognized Phoebe’s voice and wrenched the rear security door open in a panic to get to her. Amanda shoved him out of the way and tried to break the main door lock with the iron. Nothing happened. Michael grabbed it and added his weight to her thrust. With a massive heave, they shoved hard. The lock broke and the door swung open violently. They both rushed inside.

When they were only a few steps into the lounge, Stillman appeared, running at them. Stillman pulled up quickly when he saw the raised tire iron in Amanda’s hands.

Michael yelled out, “Phoebe! We’re here! We’re coming!”

Stillman roared, “Shut your trap, Jefferson!”

Michael roared back, “You shut up. You fucking scum! You’re not my brother.”

Phoebe cried out, “In here, I’m in here!”

Amanda stepped forward with the iron raised threateningly. Stillman instinctively stepped back. Michael took advantage of the distraction to circle around him toward the rear bedroom. Amanda maintained eye contact with Stillman. She could feel the power of his intense concentration on her. She moved from foot to foot, holding the raised tire iron in readiness. Although her face didn’t betray it, she was cursing the instinct that had made her act so decisively. Warily eyeing his massive bulk, she desperately prayed for the police to come quickly.