One Way Or Another You Will Pay (10 page)

“I
threw them away.”

“Ah.
I …see.” His voice tells me he doesn’t see. “Why?”

“Why?”

“Yes,
why
did you throw his letters away?”

“I
didn’t want Warren to find them.”

“You
didn’t want your son and
his
son to find his father’s letters
asking
for him?”

The
more I listened to myself, the more ridiculous I sounded.

“That
was Tom’s intention all along,” I say more to myself. “He wants me to lose credibility and come across as an attention seeker, a nutcase.”

Silence.

Tom, what a clever arsehole you are.

The
moment the detectives leave, Ritchie turns to me. “He wants you both in prison.”

I
nod.

“Guess
he has plenty of time to plan things and he’s doing just that. Someone’s been inside your home. Wonder what else they took? Other than Savannah?”

I
turn to Bear. “Let’s leave Sydney, Bear. Let’s go to Mexico or Canada, or …or Africa. Anywhere he can’t get to us. Let’s just go!”

Bear
scratches the back of his neck, his forehead lined. “What about Amy? Debbie won’t allow me to take her out of Sydney, Arena. You know that.” His voice is snappy.

I
nod. Fair enough. I wouldn’t allow my ex to take my kids away from the state I live in.

I
fall silent as I work out mentally just how to tell Bear about my deal with The Devil.

Finally,
I just blurt it out. “Bear, I …I made a deal with Tom.”

Bear
turns to look at me.

As
I speak, Bear’s face turns puce. “No fucking way!”

“Bear,
listen…”

“Arena,
you will not see this monster again, you hear!”

“Bear,
I don’t want to see him, but I am so scared that something will happen to one of our kids. Bear, he’s dangerous but right now, all he wants is for me to visit …”

“Arena…”

“Wait! Wait! Wait!” Ritchie interrupts, “why does he want you to visit every
alternate
Friday? Why those
specific
days?”

I
shrug as I stare into my brother’s blue eyes, which remind of me of Warren.

All
I have to do is look at Ritchie and I know what Warren will look like when he grows up. Ritchie is 6’2, with arms like tree trucks, thick neck, and a buzz cut. When he and Bear stand in the room, there’s little place for anyone else.

Luckily,
Ritchie and Bear get on really well. So well, they opened a security business together. Ritchie, being the talker he is, is the front man, while Bear works mainly behind the scenes. It works for them.

“I’ve
…never questioned him about …”

“He
wants to avoid you bumping into someone,” Ritchie’s voice is full of excitement.

My
eyes are fixed on his face.

“Someone
significant
, Arena. You find that person, and you’ve found the person who’s helping him. Possibly the person who snatched Savannah.”

He
makes so much sense.

“I
mean, forensics probably collected fibers from Savannah and when you find that person, she, I strongly believe it’s a she, from what you’ve said, will become a person of interest and the detectives will match the fibers to her car, house, clothing, whatever.”

I
nod slowly as he speaks. “You’re right!”

Ritchie
turns to Bear. “Boet (bro), you need to let her go back to prison and do some surreptitious investigation. I know, I know, you don’t want her to have any contact with him, but to end this, she has to. Until we find that person. And find her, we will.”

Encouraged
by the fact that Bear is no longer objecting outright, Ritchie continues.

“You
quit now, you renege on that deal, and you don’t know what’s going to happen. We can’t take that chance. Here’s what I suggest…”

****

Monday, 9:45 AM. I’m on my way to see Tom. Yes, it’s not Friday, and I have not called ahead to arrange visitation with Tom. I’ve decided to just rock up and see what happens.

My
top is red, snug, and shows a fair amount of cleavage. My skirt is black and above the knee, my face is caked with make-up but my hair is loose and long, though.

Behind
me, Ritchie is in his Jeep, following at a safe pace.

I
pull into the prison parking lot, turn off my ignition, and take a minute to pin up my hair with a claw.

I
didn’t want Bear to see me wearing my hair up. Mainly to avoid any drama over it.

He
knows how much Tom disliked me wearing my hair long and loose, so it will irk him when he sees my hair up.

I
don’t acknowledge Ritchie, even though he follows me into visitor’s reception.

As
expected, I’m denied visitation.

“Oh,
so sorry, but I was under the impression that because my name is on the list, I could visit any day. My mistake, so sorry.” My voice is charming and breathy. If Tom can get his way by being charming, why can’t I? Why
shouldn’t
I?

“I’m
his ex-wife,” I explain, as I look deep into the prison official’s green eyes, while playing with a loose strand of my hair. “Brought some money to deposit into his prison account.” I smile.

The
guard eyes flit between mine and my cleavage and after my cleavage wins, he says, “Let me make a phone call, sweetheart.”

“Oh,
thank you so much!”

At
the entrance to the building, I hear Ritchie talking softly on his mobile phone.

Casually,
I glance back and catch him eyeing a few uniformed females.

I
turn back, and hitching up my bra strap, flash my teeth at the prison official on the phone. With a wink, he gestures that he’s holding on.

My
smile is appreciative.

After
a while, he puts down the phone. “Sorry, but visitation has been denied, hon.” He looks genuinely sorry.

“Ohhhh,
why?”

“Might
be the prisoner is objecting to it?”

Really
now? Why would Tom, who pursued me, relentlessly at that, object to me visiting him?

Because
the day didn’t suit him? It’s not like he has things to do or places to be at?

After
some gratitude flirting, I thank the guard and leave.

Ritchie
follows me home.

“Nothing,”
he says to our disappointment.

Okay.

“Next time,” he promises.

****

It’s Wednesday and I’m at Remington asking to see Tom.

This
time, to my surprise, even though it’s not Friday, I’m allowed in. Whew!

Tom
is clearly not thrilled to see me. Awww!

“Friday!”
he barks. “What part of Friday didn’t you understand?”

Showtime!

I take the stage. “Look Tom, I have work on Fridays, and I wasn’t thinking when I said yes to you, but I’m here right now.” My voice is humble, my attitude submissive.

“You’re
not
working
, Arena! You’re a
volunteer
for some ….stupid, ball-busting women’s club. That’s all! A volunfuckingteer!”

My
sigh is long.

As
he scowls, his eyes dart around as if he’s looking out for someone.

“It’s
work to me. I will change my shifts around in time but for now, I can only be here when I have a chance. I need more leg room here. It’s not like I’m not honouring our agreement or something.”

He
jerks his neck around, a mixture of confusion and nervousness on his face.

Something
is amiss.

Oh,
I know what it is – today, there is no bragging, no cockiness, no lecture on how magnificent he is. He seems somewhat stressed and eager to end the visit.

When
I start to leave, the lines on his brow disappears and his face relaxes.

“Friday,”
he mouths, before he walks away.

The
moment I arrive home, Ritchie enters our house.

“I
have two people who followed you out,” he says his voice full of excitement.

He
whips out his phone. “I did something I shouldn’t have done; I took photos of them.”

Bear
and I scramble to look at the images.

I
scratch my head. I can’t tell anything just by looking at the two prison-uniform clad officers.

“This
one,” Bear says, pointing at one of the ladies.

Both
Ritchie and I look at him, our eyebrows raised.

“Look
at her hair. Look!”

I
peer at her hair. A short bob, mahogany and …about two centimeters below her ear!

My
eyes fly to look at him.

“What
does that mean?” Ritchie asks, his eyes darting between Bear’s and mine.

“Tom’s
trademark.” I go on to explain.

“So…
the other one has long, blonde hair,” Ritchie muses.

I
turn my attention back to the photo. Even though it’s hazy, we can still see her face.

She’s
probably Asian, from Malaysia or Indonesia. She has tan skin, medium height, medium build, with broad shoulders.

“I
will tail her tomorrow,” Ritchie says. “In the meantime, Tom must not suspect a thing. You need to keep seeing him and play along. And don’t mention the cancer, that you’re onto him.”

I
look at Bear.

Bear
says nothing, but his brows become one.

Ritchie
gives me a leave-him-to-me wink and continues. “According to cops, the camera in the petrol service station, the image of the person carrying Savannah and dropping her off is unclear. Not possible to determine whether it’s a man or a woman because of the cap the person wore, right?”

We
nod.

We
are interrupted by Ritchie’s ringing phone. “Excuse me,” Ritchie says and answers the phone. When he hangs up he looks distressed. “Ally hasn’t been fetched from pre-school,” he says. “The school can’t locate Olga.”

“Oh!
Do you want me to fetch her?” I ask.

“I
got it,” Ritchie says and hurries off.

I
think of Ritchie’s wife, Olga. She only came once to visit us after Savannah was kidnapped.

I’ve
helped her out a lot since she’s been in Sydney and to be honest, I expected more from her. But I do understand that her brother is visiting from the Ukraine, so she seems busy with him.

Still,
it’s disappointing that we don’t have her support.

But
I have Ritchie’s support, so I’m grateful for that.

“She’s
Ingrid Felix, lives in Auburn, and drives a black Toyota Camry, not a white Mazda,” Ritchie says, as we all sit around the dining table.

“O…kay.”
Disappointing. I really thought we had a suspect.

“Working
at Remington for six years,” Ritchie continues. “But no white Mazda…”

“Could
have borrowed it,” Bear says. “I’ll tail her.”

Ritchie
shakes his head. “Don’t, Bear. If she is who we think she is, she will know you. Don’t want to tip her off. Leave her to me. I will check it out, okay?”

“You’ve
done so much already, mate,” Bear says.

Ritchie
gave a dismissive wave. “You take care of her,” he says, pointing his chin at me.

I
give him a grateful smile. “Why don’t you bring Olga and the kids over for dinner?”

His
face darkens as he shakes his head. “Things …”

One
word, “things,” but I get the picture. He leaves.

I
look at Bear and for a moment, we lock eyes. He averts his first and leaves the room without a word.