Black Ice (29 page)

'Did you ever think …' Daniel found the question too hard to ask. It all seemed so incredible.

'It had become bloody obvious to me that whimpering bitch wasn't my mother.' Hatred flowed from every pore in Stella's body. 'She even made that pitiful attempt to name us after our real parents. And she wrote a rambling deathbed confession saying how sorry she was for taking the babies.'

'Did you tell Neall?' Kirri asked.

'I wasn't going to tell him until I figured out how I could use the information. Later I decided to stay in control until he'd killed you and I inherited everything. I'd have given him some of it. Neall couldn't reveal his true identity or the drug boss would know he was still alive, so I had all the power.'

'So he didn't know he was my brother?' Hope tinged with relief coloured Daniel's voice. Perhaps if Neall
had
known, he might not have tried to kill him.

Stella's lip curled in derision.

 

The Falcon hit the concrete culvert so fast Ricky didn't see the thin film of mud.

The car fishtailed.

Ricky swore, more with feeling than finesse, took his foot off the accelerator and tried to regain control.

The Falcon's roar cut the quiet country air.

 

'If you move I'll shoot her,' Stella said to Daniel while she concealed the gun once more with her bag.

Daniel looked for something that could give him a chance to get the gun off Stella. As though sensing his thoughts, she moved back under the cover of the trees and scrub, and waited for the oncoming car to pass them.

 

Ricky realised too late that the Falcon's speed exceeded his ability to control it.

The Falcon slid into the curve.

Ricky locked the brakes, and reefed hard on the steering wheel, trying desperately to keep the car on the road.

For one fleeting second he thought he might succeed.

 

'Kirri! Watch out!' Daniel yelled as he saw the Falcon hurtle sideways around the curve, tyres screeching on the bitumen. He saw the driver's frantic attempts to correct the car's out of control slide. Saw the inevitability of collision.

He dived towards the back door of the Magna.

Stella raised the gun. Paused as she saw the possibility of a convenient solution to her problem.

The Falcon's right front corner crashed into the back door of the Nissan.

Metal crunched. Glass shattered.

Ricky's body slammed sideways into the racing seat, his head smashing the window. The Falcon bounced back onto the road and careened onto the bridge. The front wheels hit the concrete kerbing, flipped the car onto its roof. Metal screeching, it skidded across the bridge.

The force of the impact sent the Nissan crashing into the Magna. Both vehicles ploughed forward, knocking Daniel onto the grass.

He rolled forward, twisted, the Nissan's front wheel grazing his shirt as it skewed sideways and crashed into a tree.

Horrified, he saw the Magna flatten the bush in front of it and plunge over the embankment.

Into the flooded creek.

With Catelyn still strapped in the seatbelt.

Get Catelyn!' Kirri screamed at Daniel as she scrambled out of the scrub where she'd rolled. She saw Stella, whose view was now obscured by the Nissan, run out from the trees towards Daniel.

Daniel raced after the Magna. Kirri grabbed up a rock and threw it at Stella as she raised the gun to shoot him. The rock hit Stella's shoulder, she grunted, and the bullet missed Daniel's swiftly moving body.

Stella turned to Kirri and fired again. Kirri felt the bullet graze her arm. Eyes watering from the stinging pain, she ran into the scrub under the trees. If she could draw Stella away, Daniel might have a chance to free Catelyn. The thought of Catelyn trapped as the car sank filled her with anguish. She had to buy Daniel some time.

She cursed her white dress with its Blue Monarch butterflies. It was too conspicuous in all this greenery. She slipped behind a vine-covered tree, looked back, saw Stella hesitate.

'Why do you want to kill Daniel?' Kirri yelled.

Stella acknowledged Kirri's desperate ploy with a grim smile.
Prioritise. Daniel would be occupied for a minute or two trying to get the kid out. He could even drown in the attempt. Kill the artist first before she runs for help. Play her at her own game - keep the stupid bitch talking while I get close enough for accuracy.

'For the money, naturally. After Daniel's been dead a few months,' she called out, 'I'll
find
Gloria's confession and newspaper clipping and discover I'm his sister. DNA testing will back me up.' She walked swiftly to where Kirri had run into the scrub. 'I'll be suitably grief-stricken, of course, and poor Philip will feel obliged to hand half the company over to me. I'll also inherit Daniel's companies and property in Seattle.'

'You don't have to kill anyone, Stella. Daniel would gladly share with you.'

'I don't want to
share
.' Stella's teeth ground on the last word. 'I want
all
of it. And that's what I'm going to get.'

There. A flash of white. Stella ran, pushing through bushes, jumping tree roots and vines, and fired.

A savage sound of triumph erupted from Stella's throat at Kirri's scream. By the time she reached Kirri's fallen body, blood was creeping from butterfly to butterfly across Kirri's chest.

 

Mick lowered himself into his office chair and surveyed his cup of coffee. A thin film floated on the cold liquid. 'Scum,' he muttered. 'Can't get away from it. On the streets … on the coffee …'

His sigh rumbled up from deep inside his chest. He rubbed a weary hand over his eyes, trying to massage away the heart-breaking grief of the service station operator's wife and children. When his attention returned to his desk, he noticed two sheets of message pad paper next to the coffee mug.

He punched the numbers of the fingerprint boys into his phone. Within minutes he had all the information on Neall Quinlan, alias Brett Lewis, it was possible for him to have, including the fact that the body of Neall Quinlan had been identified by his sister Stella.

Possibilities and motives began to form in his mind. A series of phone calls later, he'd learned that Philip Weyburn and Stella Quinlan had checked out of their motel and, according to the receptionist, were flying back to Sydney that day.

Brett Lewis's mobile phone records, and Daniel's call yesterday afternoon had appeared to clear Philip Weyburn from any involvement in the attempt on Catelyn's life, but Mick had some very interesting questions for Ms Stella Quinlan.

He was about to pick up the phone again, when he read the other message.

 

The Magna had bobbed back to the surface before it started to settle into the water.

Daniel reached the vehicle as the current began to carry it away. The open doors were on the downstream side, so the water wasn't rushing inside, but swirling back and eddying into the car. He cautiously hauled himself across the back seat and released the seat-belt catch.

Just then the front wheels caught on something below the surface. The car's rear end started to sweep around. Daniel grabbed Catelyn by her coveralls and clutched her close to his chest.

The car tipped slowly on its side as it sank. Daniel threw himself backwards, kicked out with his feet. Catelyn shrieked as the water washed over her.

'It's all right, sweetheart,' Daniel soothed, kicking towards the bank. He was praying like crazy that the two shots he'd heard had been directed at him. The thought of Kirri at Stella's mercy was tearing him apart.

Sunlight filtered through overhanging tree branches and dappled the murky water. The current was carrying them downstream, away from Stella. But that would also take him further from Kirri. He knew she was trusting him to get Catelyn to safety, but he couldn't abandon the woman he loved.

Another shot rang out and his stomach went cold.

Holding his daughter high, he reached down with his feet. Nothing. He trod water for a second, reached down again, touched bottom. Quickly he waded up the bank, slipping in the mud and catching his boots on tree roots. Catelyn clung to him, exhausted and miserable. Some obscure part of Daniel's brain registered that at least the water had washed the horrible smell of vomit from her clothing, and he wondered how he could think of something so trivial when their lives were still in danger.

He shoved tangled vines aside, and began to push his way through the thick undergrowth, trying to shield Catelyn from being scratched by some of the coarser plants. Large trees obscured the sunlight, creating a hush broken only by the intermittent buzz of an occasional mosquito.

 

The Magna had disappeared. Stella searched for signs of Daniel and Catelyn. No bodies in the water. She scanned the other side of the creek, then turned her attention to the embankment where she stood. If he'd managed to get the child out he would be sure to leave footprints in the mud.

She slapped at a mosquito, irritated by its persistence, the steamy closeness of the rainforest, and the smell of Catelyn's vomit rank on her clothing.

There! Footprints. Leading up into the scrub. She followed, but within seconds the litter of decayed mulch had obscured any traces she could identify. The shade from tall, thick trees and the dense undergrowth made it difficult for her to discern the way Daniel may have gone.

She glanced at her watch, and swore viciously. If she didn't get back to her car soon she was going to miss her flight. Mud squelched over her shoes but she ignored it. A change of clothes would take less than a minute. She'd had a lot of experience in that.

But right now she had to draw Daniel out. It was obvious he was hiding somewhere. No-one could move noiselessly through this leaf mulch. If he had the child it would be twice as difficult.

The child. The progeny. A bitter smile twisted Stella's mouth. The child who would inherit all that was rightfully hers.

 

Daniel crouched behind a large fallen tree, Catelyn lying exhausted over his shoulder, her arms hanging limply. As soon as he'd heard someone walking through the scrub, he'd looked for somewhere to hide. He knew if he could hear them, then they could hear him.

When he caught a glimpse of a blue short-sleeved jacket, pain so intense he thought he would stop breathing struck him in the chest. If Stella was here, Kirri had to be dead. Anguish tore through him. Then white-hot fury. If he hadn't been holding Catelyn, he would have hurled himself at Stella and killed her with his bare hands. Even a bullet wouldn't have stopped him.

When Stella was about eight metres away she stopped. Although she looked straight ahead, the scrub was thick enough for Daniel to be sure she hadn't seen him.

'How old is Catelyn, Daniel?' Her voice held a note of friendly concern, and Daniel's instincts shimmered a heightened alert. He didn't move, his hand firm on Catelyn's back.

'I was five when Harry started coming to my bedroom,' she continued. 'Most fathers love their children, but Harry
really … loved … children.
'

The meaning in her words turned Daniel's stomach over.

'Did our father love you, Daniel? Did he tuck you in bed at night and run his big sweaty hands all over your body? Did his fingers work their way inside you until you wanted to scream with pain, only you couldn't because your mouth was already filled …'

Daniel tried not to listen, but the words kept coming at him as Stella began to walk a z-shaped search pattern, weaving between trees and around bushes. Her voice was measured, deliberate, as though she were presenting a report to a room full of shareholders. She began to list off the abuse that Harry had inflicted on her, and Daniel cringed at the mental pictures she created. He wondered if Neall had suffered the same fate, and as though reading his mind, Stella elaborated.

'Harry preferred girls, but when I went into puberty he started to leave me alone. I grew quickly, and at thirteen I was as tall as he was, and strong for a girl. So he turned his attention to Neall. I caught him one night just as he was about to rape him. The poor little bugger was nearly sweating blood as Harry primed him up.'

She stopped walking, looked around, then swatted at her bare arm. The slap was loud in the quietness, and Catelyn stirred.

 

Earth smells. Musty brown and swirling mahogany. Floating, moving.

Sounds. Rustling, slithering. Melodic.

Birds singing a favourite tune.

No. Not birds.

She was lying on the ground. There was dirt beneath her arms, her hands. She felt detached from her body, as though her mind had decided there was a better place to be. Groggily, Kirri tried to put her left hand to her head. Agony shafted through her. She gasped with the shock.

Totally conscious now, she assessed her physical condition. This time she used her right hand, slowly exploring her body. On her left hand side, just above her breast, she found the bullet wound. Probing further, she found the exit site in her armpit, and the deep gouge under her arm. Apart from the searing pain, she didn't appear to have trouble breathing, so the bullet had probably missed her lung. She remembered turning just as Stella fired. Perhaps that had saved her life.

Suddenly it registered with her that the melodic birds weren't that at all. What she could hear were the muted tones of her mobile phone. She also realised that she was alone, and fear gripped her.

Stella must have gone after Daniel and Catelyn.

Her phone stopped ringing. If she could get up, she could call for help. She rolled gently onto her right side, waited for the nausea of pain to subside, then pushed herself to her feet. She swayed, leaned against a tree, breathed in slowly while the dizziness passed, then stumbled towards the Nissan.

The phone began to ring again. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she reached in, found it lying on the floor where her bag had fallen, and pressed the answer button.

Tears of relief misted her eyes when she heard Mick's voice.

 

Daniel risked moving his arm slightly to soothe Catelyn, and she soon settled.