Marked (10 page)

“Well, they’ve gone,” I breathed, “whoever they are. You gonna tell me about it?”

“Nothing to tell.” She paused, frowning. “It’s just … There was a guy back in Australia. And he was pestering Blissy … Mum … and we’re a bit worried he might’ve followed her over here.”

“Is that why you came here? To get away from him?”

“No, not really.” She lowered her eyes, and I knew I wasn’t going to get much more out of her.

“But there were two of them in that Pajero.”

“Yes. It probably wasn’t him at all. Probably just some developer looking for a bit of cheap land.”

“And where does the bloke in the Ford fit in? The one who was following you?”

“He doesn’t.” She hesitated. “I told you, he’s a cop. And he
wasn’t
following me.”

I knew she was lying, but didn’t say anything. Better to keep my mouth shut.

We made our way back to the cottage. I found some juice in the fridge and poured a couple of glasses. She nodded her thanks but wouldn’t sit down. Took her drink over to the window, staring out. But there was nothing out there.

I was sitting at the kitchen table, watching her. “When are you expecting her?” I asked.

“Anytime now,” she said, turning away from the window and lowering herself onto the bay seat. My old acoustic guitar was leaning against the wall and she picked it up, idly running her thumb over the strings. It was well out of tune, and she began tweaking the E string, head tilted, listening. Then she stopped, shaking herself like someone surfacing from a dream. “Sorry,” she said, putting the guitar aside. “Pretty rude, eh? You don’t go round tuning other people’s instruments.”

I grinned. She could tune my instrument anytime she wanted. But it was good to see her worrying about something other than black four-wheel drives and strange men. “Help yourself. It’s miles out of tune. So Jed was right.”

“Jed? How do you mean?”

“He told me you had a guitar. Maybe we oughta have a jam session sometime.”

She looked puzzled, but there was a touch of anger too. “How would
he
know?”

“Doesn’t matter. He just said he’d seen a guitar at your place. Thought it was yours.” I picked up my guitar and handed it back to her. “You gonna finish tuning it?”

She stared at me for a second without answering, and then continued adjusting the strings. “I don’t really play it,” she said. “Just a few chords.”

But that wasn’t what her fingers were telling me. She finished tuning it and then slid through a bluesy chord sequence. For someone with only the basics she wasn’t having too much trouble, playing bar chords with her hand wrapped around the neck like Jimi Hendrix. Using all five fingers.

“Why the hell didn’t you try out for the performance group?” I asked her. “What are you doing in the choir?”

She shrugged and turned towards the window.

Dad’s MX-5 was pulling into the driveway. Now that he’d finally turned up, I was wishing he’d left it a bit longer. Almost before he was out of the car, I saw Kat’s mum turning into the driveway behind him. She stopped her Subaru beside the little sports car. I’d never met her before, or even seen her close up, but I could see what Jed meant when he said she was filipticious. If I was twenty years older, I reckon I’d have been getting pretty excited too.

She introduced herself as Blissy, but she only stopped long enough to gather Kat up and depart. I had the impression she had a lot on her mind. Strange though – whoever Kat got her dark features from, it wasn’t her mum. Blissy was a blond, with blue eyes and a clear tan.

Dad moved back to his own car, wrestling with a stack of supermarket bags on the passenger seat. “D’you want to give us a hand with these?” Then he nodded towards the Subaru. It was just driving out onto the road. “What’s going on? They didn’t seem too happy.”

I stooped to pick up a couple of bags. “No, guess not.” Wasn’t quite sure what to say, but I told him about the four-wheel drive and how Blissy had told Kat to wait for her at our place.

“Hmmm,” he said darkly. “Sounds like maybe her creditors have caught up with her.”

“Creditors?”

“Debt collectors. If those guys were after Blissy, and she doesn’t want them to find her, I’d say she did a runner from Australia and left a mess of debts behind.” Then he smiled. “Nice-looking kid though.”

Kat, a nice-looking kid. I nodded.

She wasn’t at school next day and that really worried me. I knew something was wrong and kept picturing the fear on her face when she’d seen that black Pajero. I spent the whole day in a jumpy mood.

She was still on my mind when I reached home. Why hadn’t she been at school? What was wrong? I wanted to go and see her. Wanted to make sure she was all right. But I didn’t dare. I’d never actually been inside their place, and I wasn’t too sure of my welcome. I remembered the look in her eyes when I’d offered her help once before. When she was chundering her heart out on the foreshore after seeing that burnt-out car. Kat was a loner – she didn’t like other people nosing into her business.

At last I decided to grab my trainers and go for a run. There was a four-wheel drive track up the ridge behind our cottage, and I knew it passed close to the back of Kat’s place before twisting its way up to the tops. Jed had taken me up there on his motorbike not long after we’d arrived. Deep down I suppose I was hoping to bump into her or maybe catch a glimpse of her. But I knew it wasn’t likely.

The first part of the track was steep, really steep, and I’d slowed almost to a walk before I got close to where Kat lived. That was okay. The slower I went the more chance of seeing her. No luck though. I stopped on the track above her place. Stood there getting my breath back, and peered down through the trees. I could see the back of the cottage, everything in deep shadow except for a narrow strip of sunlight where a couple of towels hung from a clothes line. Apart from that, there was no sign of life.

I wanted to go down there – to see if Kat was home, to see if she was okay. Or just to
see
her. But I was too chicken, like a kid peering down from the high dive, scared to jump. I stood there for ages, letting my breath recover, imagining what she’d say. And it wasn’t just her anger that worried me. Kat was terrified of things I didn’t understand – and I was finding that really scary. Blissy’s car wasn’t down there, but I found myself scanning the whole area. Looking for a black Pajero or a dark green Ford.

For God’s sake, Cully. There’s nothing to be frightened of – except the shadows in your head. No Pajero, and no Ford. And anyway, you’re neighbours. Friends. She’s off school … sick, and you’re out for a run. Why shouldn’t you drop in to see how she is?

I could think of several reasons why I shouldn’t head down there, but finally I took a deep breath, blanked out my mind, and began scrambling towards the cottage. My heart was hammering out its own tune and my eyes were like butterflies, searching everywhere. I reached the yard and carried on before I lost my nerve. Skirted the clothes line and made for the back door. I knocked and then stepped back, listening. Nothing. No movement inside.

I
wanted
her to be home, but at the same time there was a sense of relief. It would be much easier if I didn’t have to explain why I was there. Not that I could’ve explained anyway, because I didn’t understand it myself. Kat was just a girl – a good looking one, but still just a girl – and I’d met plenty of those before. So how had she managed to take over my whole life like this? And why had I been so desperate for that to happen? Couldn’t understand it.

Steeling myself, I knocked again, but still there was no response. No sound from inside, and nothing moved. Not even the furtive twitching of a curtain.

The cottage was empty, and I was feeling more and more like an intruder – or even a prowler. I turned away across the yard and scrambled back up to the track. A final glance behind me and then I carried on jogging, trying to make sense of things. There was no one inside the cottage. I was sure of that – so where
was
Kat? If she wasn’t at home sick, why hadn’t she been at school?

It was a long climb, but eventually, I reached the top and stopped to give my lungs a rest. The view was fantastic, out across the ridges to the sea and then to the offshore islands almost on the horizon. My eyes passed over it all, but hardly anything was registering in my head. Too full of other matters.

Deep down I’d known the cottage was empty – even before I’d gone down to knock on the door. Kat couldn’t have been home. Blissy’s car wasn’t there, and even if she was sick, there was no way Kat would’ve stayed in that cottage by herself. I remembered the terror in her eyes yesterday when she’d seen that four-wheel drive Pajero parked outside. So, where
was
she?

I set off again, back the way I’d come.

The going was much easier downhill, and I pushed myself, making good time. But when I’d almost reached Kat’s place again, I came to a slithering stop. A four-wheel drive wagon was parked on the side of the track above the cottage, almost hidden by surrounding bush. Not a black Pajero. This was a dark grey Toyota with tinted windows. It hadn’t been there earlier, and I didn’t recognise it. What was it doing there?

A door slammed at the cottage, and I parted the bushes at the edge of the track to peer over the bank. Still hoping to catch a glimpse of Kat. But there was something scary about that Toyota and the hairs on the back of my head were tingling. Why would anyone leave it there? And who?

I got the answer to that one almost straightaway. Blissy’s car was parked in the yard and she was standing with Kat outside the kitchen door, talking to a man. A big man with his back to me. And then he turned side on, and my pulse rate leaped right into the red zone.

It was Bullyboy. Kat’s phantom stalker.

At first I couldn’t move. Then I backed into the undergrowth, searching for cover. I was breathing heavily and every lungful sounded like a dump truck passing through my head.

They weren’t arguing. Nothing like that. But there were no smiles either. Serious talk, and Bullyboy kept glancing around as if he was expecting trouble. After a minute or so Kat went inside, Bullyboy patting her on the shoulder as she departed. Turning back to Blissy, he took her hand and they nodded at each other. Like friends do when they’re parting. A moment later she disappeared into the cottage too, pulling the door shut behind her.

Bullyboy stood there for a second, gazing about. Then he walked over to Blissy’s car and peeked in the side window. He went around the far side and dropped out of sight as if looking for something on the ground. After a second or two he popped up again, brushing dust off his knees with one hand. Moving around to the other side, he lowered himself onto one knee, peering underneath the car. What was he searching for? Bugs? Bombs? Or was he planting something?

Or maybe he’d just dropped his keys.

At last he seemed satisfied and stood up, flicking dust from his trousers again. Then my stomach clenched as he began making his way up the slope towards me. I backed deeper into the bushes, burying myself in the undergrowth. Cold dampness seeped through my trackies and my face was pressed into musty decaying leaves. But I hardly noticed, clinging to the cool earth and peering out from under the foliage. Really glad I wasn’t wearing my fluorescent trackies – they’d have stood out like a nun at a stag party.

He stopped at the edge of the four-wheel drive track, looking carefully up and down. Then he walked to the Toyota, glancing about as he did so. But his eyes were mostly on the track surface – as if searching for tyre marks. Or my footprints. He didn’t seem to find anything though, and I watched through the leaves as he stopped beside the big wagon. He walked right around it, slowly, pushing the overhanging branches aside before unlocking the driver’s door and easing himself behind the wheel. I was expecting the noisy gurgle of a diesel, but this one started quietly. A petrol engine. The Toyota backed carefully out onto the track. Then it moved off down the hill and disappeared around a bend. But I could still hear it for a minute or two after that.

I wriggled out of my hiding place and hauled myself to my feet. I was shaking, and my lungs were working hard, though it had nothing to do with the exercise I’d been doing earlier. It was fear, a nightmarish thunder in my head. Had he
really
gone?

I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to see Kat. See that she was all right. But I’d just be making a dick of myself. She was fine – Bullyboy hadn’t been threatening them. They’d only been talking. Talking like people who knew each other well. No, going down there was a crazy idea.

I wanted to go home. But what if the Toyota was still somewhere on the track? Waiting. No way was I going to follow Bullyboy back the way I had come. I took the overland route, scrambling and slithering through the bush to the lower road. There was a path of sorts down the spur to one side of Kat’s place, but it was heavily overgrown and I lost it a few times.

Dad eyed me strangely as I came in. “What happened to you? Looks like you backed through a shredder.”

“Just out for a run. Took a short cut through the bush. Think I’ll stick to the track next time.”