One Night (9 page)

Gently I reached for the door
handle. The door opened at my touch. A messy living room greeted my gaze. It
led through to a dining area where a big, old-fashioned dark ball-and-claw
table was piled with newspapers. A TV winked in the corner of the room but
there was no sound.

I stepped inside. Galina followed
me.

A narrow, wooden staircase was
attached to a far wall. In the opposite corner a door opened on what appeared
to be a kitchen while another stood closed beside a wide mantelpiece which
framed an empty fireplace.

‘Hello?’ My voice, through puffy
lips, hardly reached above a raspy whisper. ‘Anybody home?’

My first instinct was to look for a
phone – but apart from scanning the room, I was nervous to start peering into
rooms. I murmured to Galina, ‘Somebody must be around. All these lights, the
door unlocked. Where is everybody?’

‘Perhaps they sleep.’ She pointed
upwards.

‘We can’t just go stumbling around
someone’s house. But maybe there’s a phone somewhere. If we have to go upstairs
– well, then that’s what we’ll do.’

We edged further into the room.

Noise came suddenly, a door crashing
open in the kitchen. Before either Galina or I could move, a man stood in the
doorway to the living room. He was thickset, balding, beefy armed, his face red
and sweating. In the crook of his arm, he carried a shotgun.

His mouth dropped open on seeing us.
Pale, watery eyes flicked in astonishment from Galina to me.

‘Who the hell are you?’

His startled gaze settled on me. I
realized I must present an unsettling picture, covered in mud, my face swollen
and bloodied.

‘I’m Casey Blaydon. I’m from Barton
Cottage – you know – ’ I waved a hand ‘ – in the trees down the road.’ My eyes
were on the shotgun.

‘What do you want?’

‘We were attacked. We need to call
the police.’

‘I’m not having the police here.
You sort out your own fucking problems.’

‘You don’t understand. There’s been
a murder.’

He gawped at me, pale eyes pouched
in doughy skin. ‘No shit!’

‘Mona Spears is dead. The man she
was with, Brent Sedgeworth, has run away.’

His eyes widened, unfocused. ‘I
think I’ve got the bastard who did it!’

‘Brent Sedgeworth is
here?
’

But he wasn’t listening. ‘
Jesus!
I knew something was going on!’ He seemed pleased.

Bewildered, I began, ‘I don’t think
– ’

‘You mind! You come out back and
take a look.’ He tilted the gun as an indication of direction.

I glanced at Galina but her eyes
were on the gun. He ushered us through the kitchen to a rear door, and down
three steps to the yard. A sensor light lit the perimeter, highlighting a
conglomeration of machinery, tyres, old pieces of pipe. A van with its hood up
stood next to three other cars. But my glance was fleeting. What took my
attention was a pair of legs beside a derelict dog kennel. They were clad in
grey trousers. Shock lurched in my stomach as I stepped around a scattering of
wood and old plastic bowls.

Jake Adler appeared unconscious. His
eyes were closed, his face a lucent white. A mess of blood spread and soaked
his left shoulder. A violent scratch had scored his cheek from eye to earlobe
in a glistening line of red. Under his left eye, a bruised shadow was rising. For
one stupid moment, I reckoned we didn’t look too much different – one as bloody
and beaten as the other.

‘This isn’t the man who attacked
us,’ I said. ‘He had nothing to do with it.’

Piggy-eyes looked unconvinced. ‘You
know this man?’

‘Yes, I know him. This wasn’t the
man.’

‘He a friend of yours?’

I was too focused on Jake to notice
the change of tone.

‘Yes, a friend you could say. It’s
complicated.’

I knelt beside Jake. ‘Can you hear
me? Jake?’ Gently, I touched him. A groan answered me. His eyes opened
blearily.

‘Casey…’ he whispered. ‘What the hell
is going on? This – this
bastard
shot me – !’

‘Don’t move,’ I said. ‘We’re going
to call an ambulance. Brent has killed Mona. We’ve got to call the police.’

Jake tried to ease up. ‘Brent…?
He’s
here?
’

‘It’s all right,’ I soothed. ‘I’ve
got it under control. You just hang on. I’m going to get help.’

I turned to the man with the gun.
The gun barrel was pointing steadily at me. The man had a fanatical, predatory
look in his eyes. ‘You step away from him,’ he said.

I felt as though my stomach had
done a somersault.

‘You don’t understand – ’

‘I understand very well. You’re in cahoots.
Don’t need to be Einstein to see what’s going on here!’

My mouth had gone dry. I struggled for
words. ‘You don’t understand – ’

‘Stop saying that!’ he shrieked
suddenly. ‘You think I’m yesterday’s arsehole?’

Silently, I stared at him. My mind
had gone blank. I had no idea what was happening – except a warning bell was clanging
in my head. This was a mistake. Coming here to this lonely house, was a
mistake. This man was not going to help us.

As if answering my thoughts, Jake
gave a spluttering sound, halfway between a cough and a laugh. ‘He’s totally
nuts. Thinks he’s in a computer game!’

‘You shut up!’ A foot slammed into
Brent’s legs. The man looked at me. ‘How many more of you in the woods?’

‘None,’ I whispered through stiff
lips. ‘There’s no one else. It’s just me and – ’ I waved towards Galina who was
standing immobile on the kitchen steps watching this play. Her eyes were no
more than ink-dark slits against alabaster cheekbones. I tried for reason. ‘Please
– we need to call the police.’

‘You tie him up,’ said the man.
‘Over there – in the back of the van, there’s some rope. Fetch it and tie him
up.’

‘Please – ’

‘You bloody do as you’re told or I
shoot him now!’

I stumbled towards the van, my mind
racing. What on earth had I gotten into? Who was this man? What should I do? I reached
the van and looked for the rope. The back was filled with machinery, bits and
pieces of motor vehicles, some bricks and old clothing. I peered through the
driver’s side window. The keys were hanging in the ignition. Momentarily my
mind caught on this fact. On the front seat were a pair of old trainers, a
white shirt and two cricket balls.

Memory came at me with sickening
comprehension: Mona and I walking near here one warm afternoon; a cricket ball
lobbed; Mona’s words,
Wally Bunting, local hillbilly.
I’d laughed,
lobbed the ball back… As the crow flew from the cottage, the distance wasn’t
that far – probably not more than ten or fifteen minutes. If I’d thought to cut
through the woods, it would have been the quickest route to safety – that is, if
the occupant had been normal…

But now Wally Bunting was armed
with something a lot more dangerous than a cricket ball.

I dragged two long pieces of
slender rope out of the van and turned around.

There was a strange loping sound, a
grunt. A moment of pure terror. Something black and spread-eagled was lunging
at me. I screamed and pressed back against the van as a massive dog of
indeterminate breed, stretched for my throat. At the last second, like a yoyo
on a string, it jerked back and was brought heavily to the ground, a length of
chain clanking taut as it came to its feet. Its face was inches away, a snarl
of red gum and white teeth.

Wally Bunting yelled and the dog
withdrew, its eyes on mine.

‘You keep – you keep your dog off,’
I croaked, my heart somewhere in my throat.

‘He’ll do as he’s told,’ Wally
said, his implication clear. ‘You get over here with that rope.’

He was standing cornerwise in the
yard, covering me, Jake and Galina. Cautiously, I slid away from the van and staggered
back. The barrel of the gun followed my progress.

‘Tie him,’ said Wally.

I knelt again beside Jake. ‘I’m
sorry,’ I whispered. ‘What should I do?’

His eyes on me, he mouthed, ‘Don’t
worry about me. Get yourself out of here.’

I tied the rope as loosely as
possible. I slipped the knife I’d used to slash my tyres from my pocket and hid
it behind him. His hand touched it and his eyes met mine.

‘And his legs,’ Wally commanded.

I looped and tied the rope, making
it look as though I was using a great deal of effort and strength. I stood.

Wally waved the gun. ‘You and the
girl, inside.’

I glanced at Jake but his eyes were
closed. He was alarmingly pale. He needed a doctor. And even if he did manage
to escape he would be of little use. I had to think of something…I had to get
the gun off Wally Bunting.

3 AM

Wally Bunting
was built like a barrel, squat and powerful. Physically
I would be no match. His small eyes reflected an empty intensity. I was certain
he was as stupid as he was insane; gullible and easy to manipulate. I would
have to rely on that largely underrated weapon – feminine guile.

We trooped into the living room. Wally
edged around to face us. Galina kept close to me. I could feel her eyes on me,
watching my reactions, taking cue. Obviously she believed I might miraculously
produce a solution to this disaster. Wally indicated a couch. We sat facing the
television. I saw it was paused on a computer game; castle ramparts standing resolutely
against attack from knights in space-age design armaments.

There was a sound on the stairway
against the wall. A man stood there, his hair tousled, pale eyes staring at me
and Galina like a raptor bird which had just spied a couple of tasty morsels. Slimmer
than Wally and much younger, he had a soft-muscled, rangy build, his hair darker
than Wally’s, eyes sharper. As he gawped at us, mouth slack-lipped like an
idiot, I remembered Mona’s words…
kid brother’s in jail for rape and murder.
And
Alice Petting...what had she said?
Bunting brothers. Pair of weirdo’s.

He said in a woolly voice, as
though he had a mouthful of food, ‘What’s going on?’

‘Never you mind, Matty,’ said
Wally. ‘I’ll deal with this.’

‘Girls – ’ Matthew Bunting uttered with
a distinct drool, his hands clutching the banisters.

Galina and I recoiled. It was
revolting. I wondered if this mentally-challenged idiot had ever seen a real
live woman in his home – let alone two. He was staring in a manner that went
way beyond surprise, his look a horrible cross between derision and rampant
lust.

‘You mind yourself,’ said Wally,
his voice on a threatening note. ‘Else I take a whip to you.’

Reluctantly, Matthew turned. His
eyes never leaving us, he climbed the stairs and disappeared.

Galina’s hand slid against my
sleeve, her fingers clutching. I side-glanced her. She was stiff with fright. Her
bravado, so instinctively displayed on the gravel track, had vanished on sight
of the gun. I wondered what experiences she might have suffered in her own
country that had made her so brave, and so afraid. She must believe she had
gone from the proverbial frying pan into the fire; within a few hours she had
seen a dead body, witnessed an assault, and was now faced with imminent death
at the hands of a madman.

Somehow her innocence betrayed made
me want to fight back. She had saved my life – perhaps the opportunity to
return the favour had come sooner than I thought. My shock and fear was turning
to fury and hatred – far more motivating stuff.

I looked into Wally’s small,
resentful eyes, read the insecurity of a limited mind.

I said, ‘You’ve been pretty smart,
Wally.’

Wally blinked. His fat nose was
shiny with sweat, cheeks reddened by spider clusters of broken veins. Wary
curiosity brimmed in his eyes. Flattery was wasted. I knew his name.

‘How do you know me?’

‘Everybody knows you.’

His mouth fell open.

I waved a hand. ‘You don’t like
visitors. People talk about you.’

He looked at me with suspicion.
‘Nobody comes here.’

‘But they’ll come now,’ I said.

His eyes flickered.

‘They’ll come looking for us and
turn your house upside down. And you know they’ll find your brother.’

Wally shifted. I was building
unpleasant pictures in his head. He lowered the gun. I sensed Galina’s eyes
tracking the movement.

I pressed, ‘You’d better turn us
in. That would be the most sensible thing to do.’

There was a long moment. His look
was speculative. He said, ‘You think I’m stupid?’

I didn’t answer.

He smiled suddenly, irregular
peg-shaped teeth. ‘Do you know how easy it is to get rid of you?’

I felt as though ice had trickled
down my spine. ‘Not easy to get rid of three people.’

But I knew he was mad enough to do
it – and he had the whole forest to hide the bodies. No one knew of Galina’s
existence; Jake was a lone hunter after revenge; and I hadn’t told anyone where
I was going. After all, it was just one night…

I had played the game wrong. Wally
was back on top.

‘Stand up!’ He commanded. He was
trembling slightly, a nervous excitement, his grin anticipatory. He opened the
door beside the fireplace. A stairway wound into the dark.

Fear hit me like a physical pain in
the chest.

‘We can’t go in there.’

‘I don’t care who I shoot first.’

He said it with such casual
indifference that I knew he was fully capable of carrying out the threat. My
stomach somersaulted. I had the sensation of falling into a bottomless pit. I
took the first step, Galina behind me. Wally followed. There was a click and
the stairway lit up. We turned a corner into the dank, fusty dimness of a
cellar packed with boxes, old bits of electrical equipment and mounds of old
video tapes and DVD’s.

Wally flicked a lever. Part of the
opposite wall crunched open. I couldn’t see where wall and door connected but
beyond the opening dim illumination spread into a cave-like area squared and
blocked by partitions that did not reach the ceiling; a maze of small interconnecting
rooms with shabbily built walls and what appeared to be purposeless
passageways. Despite the convoluted horror of it, I was struck by the lonely
years it must have taken to build something that would have rationale only in
the dark reaches of an unsound mind. And I knew where Matty Bunting had been
hiding.