One Way Or Another You Will Pay (18 page)

She’s
heard what I had to say. It will gnaw at her because everything I said is true. Exaggerated but true.

I
dig into my pocket and remove an iPhone ear bud. “Heard all that, guys?”

“Yep,”
Bear says.

“Every
word,” Ritchie says. “Now drive past her, and as you do, tell her you have her kids.”

“What?”

“I’ve got her phone, Arena. She won’t be able to verify your story. I’m hoping she’ll drive to her kids and lead us to their whereabouts. Besides, let her panic. This will rattle her for sure.”

I
scramble into my SUV and start it. “Bear?”

“Rena?”

“I’m driving to her house.”

“O…kay,”
Bear says. “I’m coming with you.”

“No,
Bear, no! She’ll be spooked if you do.”

“Arena!”

“Bear, listen, you can still listen in to the convo and if you think I’m in danger, then bust into the house like
Miami Vice
.”

“What
if she hurts you, Arena?”

“I
don’t think she would, Bear. Just keep her in your sights.”

“O…kay,”
Ritchie interrupts, “I’m on her tail. Let’s see where it leads us. And I’m still recording, so let’s roll!”

“Right,
Boet!” I say.

Weaving
a bit recklessly through traffic and incurring the wrath of many drivers in the process, I manage to catch her at a red traffic light, where we park side-by-side.

She
glares at me, then looks ahead.

I
roll down my window. “I have your children.”

At
first, she frowns, then her eyes pop. “You…” She scrambles to get her phone.

When
she can’t find it, she looks at me, panic all over her face.

“You
took my child, you cut her arm, and you only gave her back because Tom asked you to. Now, it’s my turn.”

“I’ll
call the POLICE!”

My
smile is mirthless. “You have no proof I took them.” With a shrug, I indicate and turn right, leaving her in her Straight Ahead Only lane.

“Wait!”
I hear her scream. “WAIT!”

Too
late, she cannot follow me now.

“Okay,
Arena,” I hear Ritchie say. “I am two cars behind her. Bear?”

“I
am two cars behind you, Ritchie.”

“Cool.
I sent a text to all her contacts saying,
How’s the kids?

I
hold my breath. “And…?”

“No
reply yet. But someone will, then we’ll know where the kids …hold on! Hold on! Got a reply from Beatrice Baptist. Says,
kids r fine dear.
Bingo!”

“Ah!”

“I’m checking contact details. Hopefully we’ll …have …an …got it! Got it!” He rattles off an address.

“I’m
heading there now,” Bear says. “You keep on her tail.”

“Arena?”
Bear says.

“Yes,
Bear?”

“Take
it easy, okay? Walk away if it’s not safe.”

“I
think it’ll be okay, Bear.”

“Arena,
she used a knife to cut Savannah’s arm. Remember that.”

“O…kay.”
That’s a sobering reminder of who I’m dealing with. I could never cut a child, but she could.

“I
love you,” he says.

I
smile.
I know you do, baby. I know you do.

“I
love you too!” Ritchie interrupts. “Oh, sorry, I thought that was for me!”

“I
love you too, Ritchie,” Bear says. “And, thanks. Thanks for everything. You’re okay.”

“Yeah,
me too, Boet (bro), I love you. And you too, you’re okay.”

I
laugh at their interaction.

But…I
do believe they love each other. In the beginning, Ritchie was wary of Bear, of any man around me, after he learned that Tom had sent me to prison. But he quickly fell in love with Bear, like we all did.

Like
we all
do
.

As I drive to Ingrid’s house, I’m feeling a little optimistic.
Clinging
to optimism, more like it.

I
mean, let’s take stock;

I
saw the way she looked at me when I revealed stuff to her about Tom wanting to fuck me.

Her
curiosity has to be piqued and doubt she will be blasé about it. This woman loves Tom. Dimpled Tom. Smart Tom. Charismatic Tom.

(Man,
I really dislike the word,
charismatic
. I had no problem with it until I encountered Tom. Now, I steer away from charismatic people. Can’t helping feeling they have a hidden agenda, a coat that they wear to hide what’s underneath.)

Anyway,
seeds have been planted in Ingrid’s mind. Let’s water them now.

Ritchie’s
voice crackles in my ear as I reach the Suburb of Auburn. “She’s just pulled up outside Lawdy Road in Granville, and you’re never going to believe it, they have two poodles and a white Mazda!”

I
gasp. “They kept Savannah!”

“Yep!
Thinking the same here.”

“She’s
scared alright,” Ritchie says. “Running into the house.”

Knowing
about the house in Lawdy Road and their poodles gives me courage to drive to her house.

Within
minutes, she pulls up into her driveway. The moment she does, I drive up and park behind her.

“You
have my phone!” she screeches. “Where is it?”

I
shrug. “I don’t have your phone.”

After
glaring at me, she unstraps her kids from the car.

A
little boy around three-years-old hurtles toward me, a small plastic truck in his hand. He stops and smiles at me.
Warren
.

In
her arms is a little girl, around eighteen months.
Sasha
.

“What
are you doing here?” she snaps, stooping to shed her toddler.

Warren
and Sasha. Finally, I get to meet Tom’s children. Wow!

“I
asked you a question!”

I
drag my eyes from the kids to hers. “You know where I live, now I know where you live,” I say in a smug voice.

She
breathes loudly and puts her hand to her forehead, a panicked look on her face.

“I
have your diaries,” I say in a quiet voice.

Her
eyes turns to slits before they grow really large.

Frantically,
she opens her front door.

“I’m
sending my dossier on you to every single TV station and radio station, together with certified copies of your diary entries. Let them see the evidence and decide. You want that kind of pressure on the detectives investigating Savannah’s abduction?”

She
freezes. When she looks at me, I see terror in her hazel eyes. When she steps inside the house, I follow her in.

“You
are never going to be able to leave your house again,” I say to her back as she takes the stairs two at a time. “You will be known as the child kidnapper! And those people in Lawdy Road, Granville, they too will be investigated and jailed!”

“As
for your job, before your trial, you will lose it because of the huge messy scandal!” I call as I stand at the bottom of the stairs.

Upstairs,
I hear cupboard doors being thrown open.

Then
she thuds back down the stairs, chest heaving, her breath in spurts, fear personified.

I
smile.
I’ve got you now.

But
I’m eager to leave. I don’t know how far I have pushed her and I am nervous to be around her. You don’t corner someone the way I did and hang around them.

“When
you’re ready to talk, call me,” I call over my shoulder. “You have twenty-four hours before the cops come to pick you up.”

It’s
11 PM and Bear and I, tired after the long, emotional day, lie talking in bed.

Ingrid’s
phone reveals little to our disappointment, but we’ve changed the pin and copied all her contacts for future reference.

“How
does she call you if you have her phone?” Bear asks.

I
shrug. “She’ll find a way.”

“Mm.”

Suddenly, the spotlights go on and our phones let off a piercing alarm, specific for intrusions.

“Bear!”
I gasp. “Ohmygod!”

I’ve
never seen Bear move so fast. He leaps out of bed, and still shirtless, grabs a baseball bat from next to his side of the bed.

“You
know what to do, Arena,” he says over his shoulder, then creeps downstairs in the dark.

As
discussed and planned, I jump out of bed and run to Savannah.

By
the time I get back into my bedroom, Warren and Amy are already in it, standing in the center of the room, hands against their chest, eyes terror filled.

They
too know the drill.

Warren
quickly locks the bedroom door, Amy takes Savannah off me and I, with shaking hands, begin to dial the cops. To have to live in fear like this, to have drills in place in our
home
, to frighten little children out of their minds…

All
because of Tom.

Steal
anything from someone and chances are they will get over it, file an insurance claim to get it back.

Steal
their peace of mind and you maim them.

God,
I despise that man for robbing us of our peace of mind.

“Arena,
don’t!” Bear calls from downstairs. “Arena, it’s Ingrid!”

Ingrid?
I stop dialing.

“Arena!
It’s okay, hon, come downstairs!”

I
open the door and inch over to the landing, ready to dart back into my room if necessary.

But
it is Ingrid in our lounge, baby Sasha in her arms and little Warren holding onto her leg, his big yellow truck in one hand.

“Babe,
bring my shirt,” Bear says, turning on the lights.

Quickly,
I run back and retrieve his t-shirt, lying in a crumpled heap on the bedroom floor, discarded earlier on in the evening. Then, with Savannah in my arms, I hurry downstairs.

“Hello,
Ingrid!” I say, still surprised to see her.

Her
first words cause my jaw to drop. “He’s planning to escape and he’s coming to take Warren.”

“Oh!”
I look at Bear with eyes the size of saucers. “He’s planning to …es…cape? Really?”

She
nods.

Of
course, I believe her. This is Tom we’re talking about. “Oh my God!” As I stand like a wax dummy, ashen and scared, Bear raises his finger for Ingrid to hold on.

“Warren!
Amy!” he calls.

They
hurtle down the stairs, eager to see what’s going on.

“Take
…” Bear hesitates as he looks at little Warren. “Take
li’l
Warren and give him some toys.”

“Warren
and Warren,” Amy says, laughing and running rings around both of them, her fears forgotten.

My
Warren doesn’t jump around or even smile. He just stares at little Warren, a look in his eyes I have never seen before. I don’t know if it’s recognition or a feeling of kinship but his eyes dart to mine, eyebrows raised.
Mum?

I
nod.
Do as Dad says, Warren. It’s okay.

Tom’s
eldest son takes Tom’s youngest son’s hand. “You wanna see my army truck?”

Little
Warren nods.

Bear,
Ingrid, and I stare at them, no doubt equally fascinated at the sight of the half-brothers, holding hands. At a glance, they don’t look like each other, mainly because of little Warren’s tan skin. But when you look closely, you see the jagged eyebrows, the slight cleft in the chin, and the hair that spikes only on the crown.