Re-Runners First Life: A Time Travel Suspense Series (10 page)

Chapter 21

September 11, 2001

Port Douglas

Australia

Christian watched the scenes of devastation in his native country play out on the TV screen above the bar of the beachside restaurant he had chosen to dine at that night. He had watched with sick fascination the footage of the terrorist attacks. At least in this instance he was not alone. All the patrons at the casual alfresco restaurant and several walking past, stopped in their tracks and watched.

The reel of the bodies falling or jumping from the towers held a particular interest for Christian.
What forced them to do such a thing?
The tremendous heat, no doubt ... or simply the consummate terror of it all.

Christian looked at the rapt faces of his fellow diners. Many of these people were enjoying the last weeks of their annual holiday in Far North Queensland. Port Douglas was a small resort town north of Cairns that swelled to a busy tropical escape in the mid year months of the Australian winter; as the population from the cold southern cities of Sydney and Melbourne and all in between, made their way to the balmy climes in the north.

Christian liked this special corner of the world. Ancient rain forests and the rich culture of the land’s original inhabitants, the Australian aborigines, fascinated him. The Wet would start soon. As the rest of the country warmed towards their summer, the north welcomed the monsoon rains. The constant threat of cyclones was something the locals lived with, but all in all, most loved the Wet. It meant rest and no tourists. Several restaurants would hang a sign, ‘
Gone fishing. See you in three months.
’ The rest stayed open and enjoyed the relaxed opportunity to mix with friends and locals alike.

Christian had arrived in Australia only a few weeks before and he could see now it was a good thing. Following the events of today, entry in and out of the US would be more difficult in the coming months, or even years. He could see the writing on the wall. This incident would bring out all the fear and paranoia of a nation that had previously believed it impenetrable.

Yes, this would change things for sure. But Christian was more than happy to wait it out. He had been watching a beautiful Swedish backpacker for the last couple of days. She was working as a waitress in the restaurant he was now seated. She, with the rest of the customers stood transfixed, watching the TV.

As Christian’s gaze flowed over her slender back and long brown legs, he nodded to himself.
More than happy to wait it out.

Chapter 22

2005

‘You’re pregnant?’ Eric pulled back his arm with all the drunken power he could muster and back-handed Kate across her face. She fell to the ground, her arms protecting her belly; the tiny bump that was to become her child was barely visible at this early stage. ‘You
stupid
slut. How did you let that happen?’

She scuttled backwards across the threadbare carpet, stood and ran out of the flat. A walk around the block was usually enough time for him to calm down or fall asleep.

Had she made a mistake keeping this baby? She was already twelve weeks along and she had tried to keep her pregnancy from Eric for as long as possible. Not that she planned it, no; but when it had become fact, she realized she really wanted this baby. Perhaps becoming a father would mellow Eric, but a part of her knew it was selfish to even consider bringing a child into this relationship. Eric had never wanted a baby.

She thought about the years spent with him. What she’d given up for him, all in the name of love. She’d always made excuses for him, even when he was beating her. It was her fault he failed at everything he did. Her fault they didn’t have enough money for his expensive tastes. Her fault he hit her. That’s what he always told her and after a while, she believed it.

The cycles of abuse would come and go. For a week or so after a beating, Eric was repentant and wretched. He fussed over her and bathed her injuries. Put her to bed and looked after her. He sobbed and begged for her forgiveness and she always gave in to him.

But then the frustration would begin to build again. She knew the signs. Sometimes she welcomed the beating, even provoked him to anger; just to get it over with and enjoy the good weeks that followed. Waiting for the pain she knew was inevitable, was often worse than the pain itself.

She didn’t have the strength or courage to leave him. He swore he would find her no matter where she went
and she believed him
. He would hurt her more than ever before
and she believed him
. He would hurt her family
and she believed him
.

Would he hurt their child? She lived with the hope this baby would change him, but she’d lived with that hope for fifteen years and nothing had changed him so far.

‘But a baby is special,’ she justified to herself as she walked. ‘Once it’s born, Eric will love our child and he will change. He will.’

Chapter 23

2005

The young PA with long legs and a shapely behind knocked on Dylan’s office door, before looking in with a smile. ‘Mr March, your brother Dr Marchioni is here. Shall I ask him to come in?’

Dylan looked up from his paperwork with a frown. David had never been to see him at Baker Townsend before. They usually met at their parent’s home or at a downtown bistro.

He waved and nodded, ‘Of course, send him in,’ as he pushed himself away from the large teak desk. He’d gained weight in the last couple of years. His exercise routine had been replaced with early starts at the office and a lot of socializing after work and on the weekends. Playing a game of golf with clients or friends was the only time he got outdoors any more, and his ever expanding waistline was proof that riding in golf carts did not equate to exercise.

He looked up as David strode in purposefully. One look at his younger brother’s face was enough, ‘Something’s happened. What’s wrong?’

David sat heavily in a chair and looked at Dylan, ‘I didn’t want to tell you over the phone.’ He paused, ‘
Nonno
died peacefully in his sleep last night.’

A wave of shock and sorrow washed over Dylan. At eighty-eight years their grandfather had seemed ageless. He was strong, steadfast, opinionated and much loved. This was a terrible blow to the Marchioni family, Dylan especially. He was the eldest grandson, the golden child who had broken his grandfather’s heart when he cast aside his name. The wound still ran deep and Dylan had never forgiven himself. Not that his family ever referred to it again, but it sat like a stone in Dylan’s heart.

David broke into his thoughts, ‘I thought you and I would take over the arrangements for the funeral. Dad and Mum will want to be there for
Nonnina
.’

‘How is she?’

David shrugged and the ghost of a smile lifted his lips, ‘You know
Nonnina
. That tough Sicilian blood flows through her veins. She’s shattered, but accepting. She’ll be ok. We’re all here for her.’

Dylan nodded.

‘I was thinking if we could arrange it for Wednesday, that’s three days away, perhaps Phillipa ...?’ He left the question hang.

As close as the Marchioni family was, Phillipa was never present when they came together for the monthly lunches at the Hunters Hill home. David’s wife Margaret and their daughters had been happily absorbed into the family, but Phillipa had stopped visiting years ago. It had started with one excuse or another, but then it dwindled away to an acceptance that she wouldn’t be there, and it was a happy acceptance on all sides. Phillipa’s relationship with her in-laws had always been strained, even though Dylan’s parents had done their best to make her feel welcome.

‘She’ll be there,’ growled Dylan.

Dylan walked his brother to the elevator and shook his hand. ‘I’d like to see to the arrangements myself, if you don’t mind David.’

David nodded, ‘I thought you might. You’ll keep me in the loop?’

‘Of course,’ he paused. ‘I owe him ...’

‘I understand,’ David finished for him. ‘Call me.’

Dylan walked slowly back to his office, grabbed his car keys and cell phone and spoke to his PA. ‘I’m taking the rest of the day off, Kirsten. I won’t be available to anyone.’

‘Of course, Mr March,’ Kirsten spoke softly. Dylan’s mood was palpable. She knew something serious had happened, but it wasn’t her place to ask.

Dylan could feel the sorrow build. He had to get out of here, to think and to grieve. He thought of the place that used to give him peace; somewhere he hadn’t been for a long time. Farm Cove and the harbor would give him the space he needed to breathe. As he left the underground car park, he turned his Mercedes towards the Botanical Gardens.

Chapter 24

2006

Los Angeles

The school bell rang out over the quiet neighborhood and the small group of parents who waited near the elementary play area gates, began to stir and crane their necks to watch for their little ones.

Pam Perez was tall, slim and blond; a stark contrast to her handsome husband’s Latino heritage. Their daughters were miniature versions of their mother, but with their father’s dark hair. Christian watched as the older girl held firmly onto her little sister’s hand and looked for their mother. Her determined chin showed she took the caring of her baby sister most seriously.

Pam called out and waved her arm over her head. Smiles broke out all around as the girls ran and Pam crouched to gather her babes close to her body in a loving hug.

Christian had watched this ritual several times from his rental car parked discreetly across the street. Each time he drove a different car and each time he changed his appearance slightly, with the help of a hat or scarf, even a wig or fake moustache.

He knew the Perez family’s routine well by now. He knew where they lived, what time Marc Perez left for work, where Pam worked while the children were at school, where they shopped, where they ate and the friends they visited. More often they spent time with Pete Sutton and Julie Anderson. The four had become firm friends, it seemed. Which, in Christian’s estimation, made his plans all the more interesting. The pain would hit close to home this time and Christian could already feel the veil of boredom lifting.
Yes, this was an excellent idea
.

ooooo

The only occasions when Pam had some time to herself was when Marc took the girls out on a Sunday afternoon to the park. Because of the unpredictability of police work, this wasn’t a regular routine, but Marc did it as often as he could. This week he’d planned a trip to the zoo and he was looking forward to it as much as his girls.

Later that evening, as the SUV pulled into the Perez driveway, the back doors flew open and the sisters squealed and raced for the front entrance.

‘Girls,’ Marc called out, ‘Quiet down. Mommy might be having a nap.’

Two dark heads nodded, slowed their pace and held a finger to their lips, ‘Shhhhhh.’

Before Marc unlocked the door he turned to them and said, ‘While I put the food away I want you both to have a bath before dinner ...
Quietly
. That way Mommy will get a bigger surprise. Takeout for dinner and clean kids, so she won’t have to do anything else tonight.’ The sisters nodded again. ‘And if you’re really good, we can watch this,’ he pulled from his coat pocket a copy of the latest animated DVD rental, ‘and eat popcorn.’

Their eyes lit up and they chimed ‘Yay.’

‘Ok, scoot.’ Marc smiled to himself. It had been a great day and it was about to get better. He and Pam had both been working hard lately and after an early meal and movie with the girls, they had planned on having a night to themselves with no interruptions.

He went to the kitchen and put Pam’s favorite ice-cream in the freezer before turning on the oven to keep the BBQ chicken and fries warm. Knowing his wife, she’d want to add something green to that, so he filled a saucepan with water, ready to throw in some frozen peas. ‘Better than nothing,’ he shrugged before heading to their bedroom.

He could hear the girls chattering softly in the bathroom as he passed and quietly opened the door to the main suite.

The ivory quilt cover was smooth and pale at the foot of the bed, but above was ... it took a frozen moment for Marc’s brain to register what his eyes were seeing. Blood, so much blood. And lying naked and silent in this sea of red was the body of his beautiful wife.

Her severed hands covered her eyes and a single finger displaying a gaudy plastic ring was placed within the heart carved into her soft belly. A single red rose was held captive under the finger.

A primeval roar of anguish bounced around the walls as Marc bellowed in pain. Only the sounds of his daughters calling him and coming down the hall pulled him back, as he closed the door and faced them.