Sinister Intent Page 9

  Rex knew body language. Having grown up in a tough neighbourhood where personal safety depended on being street-smart and anticipating trouble before it occurred, he’d bet that, judging by her stiff stance and jerky movements, the young detective was agitated, possibly even nervous.

  Kate had stopped talking. He gave her a sideways glance only to be drilled with a malevolent stare. He saw her jaw set, noted the rhythmic clenching and unclenching of her fists. He could read her like a book, could almost hear her jealous mind ticking over, no doubt convinced she’d caught him checking out the female cop.

  ‘That’s the fucking pig you put in the hospital,’ she mumbled, pulling a face and pointing her finger across the road. ‘What was her name? Oh, that’s right; it’s your favourite name in the whole world – Alexandra.’ Her voice dripped with spiteful sarcasm. ‘Pity you didn’t hit the bitch a bit harder and put her out of action for good.’

  Rex did a double take. Kate’s voice was toxic, full of malice. It was an extremely venomous reaction, even for Kate. What the hell was her problem?

  Kate folded her arms across her abundant chest in a hostile stance.

  ‘You want to fuck her, don’t you? She’s skinny and I’m fat. That’s why, isn’t it? That’s why you want to fuck her.’

  Rex sighed angrily and wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. This was all he needed; for Kate to freak out right outside the cop shop.

  ‘Would you just shut up; your hormones are sending you nuts. Let’s go and report and get out of here,’ he grunted, grabbing her arm and guiding her towards the edge of the road.

  However, it appeared Kate was not in the mood for obedience. She ripped her arm free of his hold and, doing a strange little dance, pirouetted away from him.

  ‘You want to fuck her, don’t you?’ Kate hissed, pointing her finger at him and burrowing it into his chest.

  The teardrop tattoo on her cheek almost disappeared as she screwed up her face in a furious scowl. A woman pushing a pram eyed them cautiously as she scurried past.

  ‘Do you, Rex? Answer me, I want to know.’ Then her face changed as though she’d had a sudden insight.

  ‘Or is it because of her name? Do you think she could be your Alexandra?’ She laughed. ‘Is that it? ’

  Intense anger hit him like a bullet. The idea that this girl, this detective, could be his daughter . . . It was ridiculous. How many girls out there around his daughter’s age would be called Alexandra? Too many . . . Besides, the thought hadn’t even entered his mind – until now.

  ‘I hate her,’ Kate spat out, clearly not finished with her outburst.

  Rex had never wanted to hit a woman so much in his life. He wanted to grab her disgusting, spiteful mouth and rip it clean off her face. But he didn’t. Instead he grabbed a struggling Kate by the arm, more firmly this time. He then waited for the car containing the two detectives – who were now both watching them curiously – to pull out from the kerb and disappear into the traffic. Then he dragged Kate across the road and through the glass doors into the foyer of the police station. The faster they did what they had to do the better. He could not afford any more trouble.

  CHAPTER 11

  A shiver ran down the length of Lexie’s spine despite the fact it was still warm outside. They had been sitting outside the Assassins’ clubhouse for forty-five minutes now and although the sun had been replaced by a bright full moon, there was still sufficient light to observe the front entrance of the premises.

  Lexie’s unwavering gaze was fixed on the only means of access, in and out of the clubhouse. The property backed onto another one, directly behind it, so if anything was going to happen, they were in the right spot. Not that she could see much past the high concrete wall surrounding the perimeter of the property, or the reinforced electric gate. Security looked tight, with surveillance cameras perched in every corner of the roof. In direct contrast to the derelict Devil’s Guardians clubhouse, Lexie couldn’t imagine anyone sneaking in or out of this fortress unnoticed.

  The Assassins club was clearly financial, and since the bulk of legal income for bikie clubs derived from the sale of alcohol to their members, she assumed this club loved to drink. Or, perhaps their funding wasn’t altogether acquired via legal means, she wondered.

  Having already exhausted such topics of conversation as Brad’s accident, Lexie’s injuries, and the search warrant debacle, the only sound now filling the silence in the car was the quiet hum of the radio and the occasional beeping of Josh’s phone, alerting him he’d received yet another text message. Lexie racked her brain for something to say but drew a blank. Josh seemed equally lost for words.

  The seconds dragged on like hours.

  Lexie wondered if the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach was due to the anticipation of potential danger, or if it had more to do with the close proximity of the man sitting beside her? Strangely, she was hyper-aware of his breathing, his aftershave, his fingers playing with the buttons on his mobile phone.

  ‘Stay long last night?’ Josh asked, without raising his eyes from his phone.

  Lexie was almost startled by the sound of his voice.

  ‘We stayed for a few hours. I was home at a reasonable hour,’ she told him.

  Hesitating, she racked her brain for something to say to keep the conversation going.

  ‘Surveillance sucks.’

  It was the first thing that entered her head.

  ‘I don’t know how the surveillance unit does it, day in and day out. Just sniffing around, waiting for something to happen.’

  ‘Hence the reason they’re called “the Dogs”.’

  A motorbike roared down the street, slowed, then cruised past, giving the clubhouse a good once over. Lexie felt her heart quicken. Josh, too, glanced up and watched the bike continue on its way until it disappeared around the corner.

  Josh’s attention returned to his phone. Lexie’s heart continued to race. She opened the window hoping fresh air would help calm her. But the narrow suburban street, hugged so closely by trees, made her feel like she was trapped in a tunnel. The shadows of the trees seemed to be pressing in on her and she found herself breathing faster, as if stuck in an elevator with no air.

  Breathe through it, Lexie. Don’t make a fool of yourself.

  Was it the glimpse of Donaldson outside the station making her uneasy? The police psychiatrist had assured her these irrational and unpredictable feelings of panic would pass. He’d used an analogy: her flood gates had been pushed to their limit. Her usually high tolerance of stress had been weakened due to a series of events: her broken marriage, her brother’s death, and then being stabbed and having her own life threatened. Even though she had fought through the worst of it, managing to keep her head above water, not drown in the turbulent seas of her fear and anxiety, at times it still felt as though she was only treading water. Sometimes it felt as if another wave of danger was just around the corner waiting to knock her down and drag her under when she least expected it.

  ‘Have you got any idea how long we might be here?’ she asked, just for something to say to distract herself from the pounding in her chest.

  Josh shrugged.

  ‘No idea.’

  There was silence again then Josh exclaimed, ‘Hey, did you get the flowers?’

  Lexie stared at him, confused.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The office sent you a bunch of flowers . . . after you were hurt at the search warrant. They were delivered to your home.’

  So the flowers were from work, not some underworld villain sending her a silent message. A wave of relief washed over her.

  ‘I got them but there was no card. I didn’t know who sent them.’

  Josh shrugged again.

  ‘It was us. The card must have fallen out or something.’

  A southerly change blew in through the window providing fleeting relief from the stifling heat of the day. Along with the fresh breeze, a fine mist of drizzle began falling on the windscreen. A streak of li
ghtning suddenly lit up the sky and thunder cracked ferociously in the distance. Lexie jumped, a soft gasp escaping her mouth.

  Josh turned his head slowly to study her, his fingers pausing over the phone buttons momentarily.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he inquired, frowning.

  ‘I’m fine, thanks,’ she retorted, her voice sounding unconvincing even to her own ears.

  The phone in Josh’s hand rang. Two beats of a tune Lexie thought she recognised sounded before he answered. They both automatically reached to turn the radio volume down at the same time. When his fingers grazed hers she was zapped with an electric current that shot straight up her arm. He didn’t seem to notice the contact.

  ‘Hello,’ Josh said into the phone. After a short conversation he hung up.

  ‘The surveillance guys are around the corner. They’ll be relieving us so we’re off the hook. I’m starving. Why don’t we head up to Bondi Road and get some dinner before it gets too busy?’

  He tucked his phone into the pocket of his jeans and looked up at the sky through the windscreen.

  ‘The full moon is out so we’re surely in for some fun tonight.’ He flashed Lexie a quick smile.

  Oh God, he had dimples – deep lines on either side of his mouth. Had she seriously not noticed them before?

  Flustered, Lexie glanced up at the brilliant orb dominating the night sky.

  ‘Sounds good, I could eat,’ she replied, turning the key in the ignition.

  ‘What do you think it is about a full moon that brings out the crazies?’ she asked, feeling the need to keep talking.

  ‘Funny you should ask. I’ve always wondered that myself. I’ve often found that topic of conversation a source of debate.’

  He turned towards her, leaning his back against the passenger door. She met his gaze, and for a moment his eyes lost some of their intensity. She noticed a softer glint to them. Could it be he welcomed her attempt at communication? Perhaps he wasn’t as detached as he wanted her to believe?

  ‘Sceptics say it’s just an old wives’ tale, that there’s no scientific evidence to support the theory the moon could have an effect on a human. But I’m sure you’ll agree, if you ask anyone who’s worked in emergency services, they’ll definitely dispute that.’

  Lexie nodded her agreement, starting to relax.

  ‘Discounting the possibility of being attacked by werewolves, it seems to me that whenever there’s a full moon, it’s a given; anything can happen.’

  From there the conversation flowed freely. Ten minutes later, they were heading south on Bronte Road when a four-wheel drive suddenly pulled out in front of them. Lexie slammed on the brakes. The car lurched.

  ‘Idiot,’ she exploded, blasting the horn angrily. ‘I could have hit her.’

  Josh laughed. She gave him a fleeting glance. He was smiling brightly, apparently most amused by her display of road rage. The ice between them was definitely thawing.

  Turning onto Bondi Road, Josh pointed to a parking spot.

  ‘Over there. Perfect, we got a legal spot. What do you feel like? Indian, Italian, Lebanese, Thai? Take your pick.’

  Lexie pulled into the space and cut the engine.

  ‘I love them all.’

  They both moved to get out of the car when three beeps from the police radio froze them in place.

  ‘A Bondi Junction vehicle or any car in the vicinity of Bronte Road? There’s been a report of a shooting at a residential home.’

  The radio operator provided the exact address, which they both recognised immediately.

  ‘No further information. Ambulance has been advised. Any available car?’

  Josh glanced across at Lexie.

  ‘We’re on,’ he said, plucking the voice transmitter from the dashboard. ‘Bondi Junction 100, we’re around the corner, we’ll attend.’

  Lexie’s foot was already on the accelerator pushing her way out into the heavy flow of traffic. Her hand tugged at the lever activating the siren, which immediately shrieked into life. Josh reached out of the window and slammed the magnetic blue light onto the roof of the car.

  ‘Thanks Bondi Junction 100.’

  The operator’s voice could only just be heard over the blaring of the siren. Josh leant forward, cranking up the volume.

  ‘Next available ambulance will attend but we have no further information so please advise of the situation when you arrive,’ the operator instructed. ‘What’s your ETA, 100?’

  ‘Copy that, Radio. ETA about five minutes. We’ll be proceeding code red.’

  Josh grabbed onto the hand rail above his head as the car sped through the busy streets.

  They weren’t far away but being a Saturday night and the Christmas season, the traffic was thick. Lexie’s full attention was focused on the road while her mind calculated the most direct route. The street scene faded as her heart accelerated and the familiar feeling of anticipation spread through her body.

  Minutes later the car lunged to a sudden stop as it pulled up just short of the address. She quit the siren but left the beacons flashing.

  ‘100 going off at that address now, Radio.’

  As she jumped out of the car, Lexie could see, in the dim light of the porch, Kate Bushell’s pregnant silhouette pacing outside the doorway of the Devil’s Guardians clubhouse.

  ‘Hurry up, hurry up,’ she wailed through a veil of tears and heaving shoulders. ‘He’s been shot. He’s been shot.’

  Lexie and Josh’s weapons came out automatically. Instinctively they held their pistols down by their sides, pointed towards the ground for safety but ready to be raised in a split second if necessary. They were watchful and wary as they approached the house. Reaching the porch, the first thing Lexie noticed was that the front window had been smashed. Glass was scattered across the dirty cement. Through the splintered venetian blinds she could see someone lying on the lounge room floor.

  Kate practically threw herself at Josh, sobbing and gasping for air as she held her protruding stomach.

  ‘He’s been shot. He’s been shot. He’s been shot.’ The woman howled hysterically. ‘I just went out to get some smokes and when I came back . . .’

  ‘Are you here alone? Did you see anyone?’ Josh asked, placing his hand on her arm in an attempt to calm her. ‘You need to take a breath and tell me what happened.’

  The question was directed at Kate but his eyes were everywhere at once, scanning the shadows for a movement, a noise, anything out of the ordinary.

  ‘He’s on the floor . . . No one else is here,’ she said, giving in to more heavy sobs. ‘He needs help.’

  Clutching at Josh’s arm, Kate pulled him into the house. Lexie followed directly behind but quickly halted in the doorway next to Josh.

  Stunned and sickened by the carnage before her, she registered it all in an instant. Stains of violence had left their mark around the room. Blood was splattered across walls, carpet and furniture. Bloodied hand prints smudged down a wall, a cluster of bullet holes formed a pattern in the gyprock and smashed glass was everywhere.

  However, more shocking than all this was the man lying in the middle of the floor, who Lexie was surprised to discover was not Rex Donaldson, but in fact the bikie they called Bluey. She recognised his red hair at once.

  Like a swimmer floating in a pool of red, he was sprawled on his back. One hand clutched at his bloodstained chest. The other hand clawed desperately at the floor beneath him. He was moaning in pain and his eyes were wide with fear, his stare fixated on the ceiling above him.

  ‘Holy shit,’ Lexie heard Josh curse under his breath.

  Her stomach lurched and, again, she reminded herself to breathe as adrenaline jolted her body into action. Moving swiftly she darted down the hallway and into the kitchen, returning seconds later with a tea towel she’d grabbed off the kitchen bench. Her mind was vaguely aware of her shoes crunching against fragments of broken glass scattered across the floor. She dropped to her knees beside the fallen man, feeling tiny shards pierce t
hrough her denim jeans, stabbing at her skin. The pain hardly registered.

  ‘Shit,’ she cursed, as shaking hands fumbled and pulled at Bluey’s shirt, searching for the wound.

  Her mind flashed back to the detective’s course she’d completed only six months earlier: always maintain the crime scene and prevent contamination, but more importantly, preserve human life.

  Josh squatted opposite her, helping to rip open Bluey’s shirt. Buttons flew through the air as the fabric tore easily. She noticed Josh’s hands were also trembling and his breathing was coming in short gasps. With Bluey’s chest bare she could see the gaping hole where he’d been shot just near his left shoulder, just above where she’d guess his heart would be.

  ‘Kate, get some towels,’ Lexie ordered, turning her head towards the sobbing woman standing stiff in the doorway. ‘Did you hear me? Get some towels. NOW!’ Blood oozed freely from the wound as she bunched the tea towel into a ball and clamped down. The fabric turned crimson, immediately saturated. Kate threw her a towel before moving back to the doorway. Lexie tossed the tea towel aside replacing it with the fresh towel.

  ‘It’s all right, mate, the ambulance is on its way,’ Lexie told him. ‘It’s going to be all right.’

  She glanced at Josh and saw the same uncertainty reflected in his eyes.

  ‘It’s going to be all right, Bluey,’ she repeated.

  At the mention of his name, the man turned terrified eyes towards her. His gaze shifted from the ceiling to focus intently on Lexie. And that’s where they stayed. She had suddenly become his lifeline, and his whole existence centred solely on her. She kept the pressure up while reassuring the injured man, whispering continually that it was going to be all right.

  Lexie tried, without success, to block out the sounds of Kate screaming and wailing behind her, the feel of the blood seeping through her fingers and soaking through her jeans, Josh’s voice yelling into the radio for an ETA on the ambulance, Bluey’s raspy breathing and petrified eyes, and the pungent smell of blood . . . and fear.