Eight seconds, p.11
Eight Seconds, page 11
“What happened here?”
Erin slid out of his grip and kicked her legs to move away.
“Nothing, don’t worry about it.”
Tom floated closer and took another look at her shoulder. His jaw dropped and what looked like anger flashed across his eyes. “Bloody hell, Erin, it’s him, isn’t it?”
As he reached out to touch the bruise, Erin turned back and pushed away from the pontoon, paddling towards the steps on the opposite side of the platform. There was no escaping the look of horror on his face.
“That’s why you have to take it slowly, isn’t it?” Tom persisted from behind her.
Tears threatened as she climbed onto the pontoon that was positioned on the edge of the lake, and started back along the track to where she’d left her towel and keys. She hadn’t gone more than ten metres when Tom’s hand slid into hers, and he spun her around. “Listen to me, Erin, please. My family has gone through this with my sister. I know all the excuses. She came up with them for months while she hid the bruises.”
Tears trickled down her cheeks. She couldn’t look at him. “Let me deal with this on my own.”
“Why? Talk to me about it so I understand what’s going on.”
“For your own sake, don’t get involved.” Why didn’t he just go? She pulled her hand from his and sent him a determined look. “He won’t give up easily, and I don’t want to risk anyone else.”
“Did you really just say that? There’s no way I’ll let you try and handle this alone.” Tom slid his arm around her waist and squeezed her against his chest so other swimmers could pass them on the track. He looked down at her and swallowed. “There’s something about you, Erin. Please tell me you felt something last weekend and today, and it wasn’t just me.”
Oh, it wasn’t one-sided; her body moulded into his, and the goosebumps appeared up and down her skin, but she wasn’t making any promises until she was done with Nicholas. “What if he makes our lives hell?” she whispered into his bare chest.
He shook his head as though frustrated. “I’m prepared to wait for the easy part.” Droplets of water landed on her face. “Here”—he placed one hand over his heart—“something here tells me you’re worth it. Talk to me, tell me what’s happening. Please.”
Like quicksand, her body was fast losing traction the longer her gaze remained locked with his. Could she trust Tom? Would it help or hinder the situation with Nicholas?
“I’ll only go after him for a good thrashing if you ask nicely.” He attempted a lopsided grin, but it slipped, and a worried frown replaced it.
His pleading touched a raw nerve of needing someone like Tom on her side. A deep, resigned sigh left his chest when he took a step back and dropped his forehead against hers.
“That’s a lie. I can’t keep that promise. I’ll kill the bastard if he touches you again.”
The little niggle of fear she’d managed to keep in a tight spot behind all of her reasoning suddenly blossomed, and her hand tightened around Tom’s waist for reassurance. “Let’s get our towels, and I’ll tell you everything.”
CHAPTER 15
18 Years Old
“I better get going, Mum. Thanks for dinner.” Grace rose from the couch and took her empty plate and glass to the sink to rinse.
“Do you want a lift home?” her mum asked.
Grace lived a couple of streets away and was without wheels while her car had repairs done to the brakes. “Actually, no, I’m staying the night with Jackie. Remember her from school? She finishes work at ten, so I’ll catch the bus to her flat,” Grace called over her shoulder.
“Isn’t it a bit late to be out and about?”
“You worry too much, Mum.” On the way back from the kitchen, Grace gave her mum a hug, relieved her father had gone to bed. “Jackie has the day off tomorrow, so we can catch up all night if we want. It’s been ages since we last got together. I’ll finally get to meet her baby girl.”
Her mother tutted at the recklessness of the teens. At eighteen, Grace had the world at her feet and loved every minute.
“Just take care, okay?”
“I will.” She gave her mother another hug and left for the bus stop.
Grace glanced down at her watch and noted it was nine fifteen. She’d caught the initial bus near her parent’s home and needed one more connection to arrive at Jackie’s. She didn’t know Jackie’s suburb too well, only that her flat was close to a shopping centre. Grace’s timetable showed the next bus was scheduled to arrive in a couple of minutes, so she sat and waited at the bus shelter. It was positioned directly behind the police station and was unusually quiet for a Sunday night. She lit up a cigarette to help pass the time.
Grace flicked her eyes up when what looked to be a greeny-coloured Corolla slowly rumbled past. The street light illuminated the car’s interior to show a man wearing a black and white cravat around his neck. His unusual attire caught her attention. He braked suddenly and stared at her through his open window, tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel. Grace tensed at the steely look in his eyes and the sideways smirk on his lips. She sighed in relief and sunk further back into the shelter when he repeatedly revved the engine and drove away.
When the same man appeared on foot and approached her less than a minute later, she bit her lip to hold back a scream for help and dropped the remains of the cigarette. A medium-built man and probably in his late forties, Grace tried to calm herself by taking deep breaths. He was clean-shaven and well-dressed. Surely, he wasn’t a weirdo.
Standing in front of her, and with a gruff voice, he said, “I know you.”
Panic set in, but like every other time fear attempted to barge its way in, she faced it head-on. She stood and matched the man’s height. “No, I don’t think so.”
“I know you,” he insisted again.
In a sharper tone, she maintained her poise and repeated, “No, you don’t.”
He studied her with silent contemplation before turning away and disappearing into the darkness.
The connecting bus roared down the street, and with great relief, Grace didn’t hesitate to climb aboard. The half-hour ride to Fremantle gave her the time to calm her nerves and get excited about catching up with Jackie. The opportunities to spend time together were few and far because of Jackie’s nursing shift work. Add a new baby to the mix, and sometimes it was near impossible. Choosing to come out at such a late hour was a last resort option.
The bus pulled into the terminal at the shopping centre. Grace thanked the driver and hopped off. When it drove off, she spied the green Corolla parked in the car park next to a cluster of trollies.
Fear paralysed her for a few vital seconds, and she tried to wave down the disappearing bus, but its lights vanished around a corner. She scanned the rest of the car park for anyone else or anything that could help her. It was only her and the same cravat-wearing man who claimed to know her. Had he followed her? These weren’t the actions of a sane man. How dare he! She pounded a fist against her thigh, her rousing anger increasing another notch. She wanted to protest, shout and tell him to get lost. And she desperately needed to pee. This was when her adrenalin kicked in, flight or fight. Nothing else penetrated. She gasped for air, struggling to breathe. If fear had a smell, she was covered in it. Smothering her like a heavy and musty blanket. Fighting this man wasn’t an option, so flight it was.
With clammy fingers gripping her handbag, she surveyed the four-lane highway with a medium strip. She sprinted across the car park and two lanes, waiting for traffic to clear. The Corolla’s engine revved as it did earlier. She dashed over the other lanes and down a side street running adjacent to the highway and ducked into the garden of the first block of flats.
She crouched low behind a row of shrubs. There was no hope of stilling her racing heart or making sense of what was happening. Who was this man, and what did he want with her? With increasing alarm, she spied the man driving slowly up and down the street four or five times, his head turning from one side to the other, searching. When the stoplight turned red near the shrub where she hid, she was sure he would hear her thumping heart.
She bit down on her lip, refusing to make a single sound or move a muscle as she seared the letters and numbers of his number plate into her memory. She remained cowering as the light turned green, and he sped off. When ten minutes passed and she didn’t see him again, tension oozed out of her tired shoulders, and she plopped onto the grass and stretched her cramping legs.
Jackie lived close as this was the street address of her flat. Earlier, the bus driver had pointed out the direction she had to walk, confirming it wasn’t that far. Grace rose. Regaining some semblance of confidence, she wrapped it around her securely. She was sure she’d find Jackie’s place soon.
She swung her handbag over her shoulder and scampered down the street, tentatively looking at the street numbers on the buildings. Her spine stiffened when a car’s brakes squeaked behind her and that familiar rev reverberated through the night. She gasped, terror overriding everything. Her feet were like concrete and wouldn’t move.
Within seconds, he grabbed her upper arm, flinging her around. When her flight or fight instinct kicked in again, this time, it was to fight. Grace swung her handbag, the only weapon she had, and hit him on the side of the head with a thud. She thanked her lucky stars that she had a pair of runners and a myriad of other items weighing the bag down. For a moment, he seemed dazed, and his grip loosened; Grace yanked her arm free. Then she ran. She glanced over her shoulder and sprinted down the shared driveway, screaming for help. The man was hot on her heels, his footfalls a loud pounding on the concrete.
She veered down the side of the carport and into someone’s backyard. A small fence divided the house from the neighbour, and it took Grace nothing to jump over it. She bolted for the next house which had a light illuminated in a back room. The pounding footsteps had stopped, and with another glance back, she couldn’t see the man. She pounded on the back door of a house.
The door opened to reveal a man who looked to be in his thirties. “Please, let me in. There’s a man chasing me.”
The man didn’t hesitate. “Quick, come in,” he said, surveying the backyard over her shoulder and ushering her inside.
As the door closed behind her, she let out a shaky sigh of relief before realising her saviour wore only underwear, low-riding briefs to be exact. Was her nightmare about to get worse?
“Just excuse me. I’ll go and dress,” he said. “I’m Rob, by the way.”
With her outstretched shaking hand and averted eyes, she said, “I’m Grace.” And with his warm hand around hers, she felt safe. This man wasn’t one of the bad ones.
“Make yourself comfortable in the lounge room”—he directed her towards a hallway—“and I’ll make you a cup of coffee. You can tell me what happened. Sounds like you need to report it to the police.”
Grace nodded, pulling her jacket around her still-shaking body. While she waited for this kind man to dress, she re-ran the numbers and letters of the number plate in her mind. The sooner she could write it down, the better.
“This is your friend’s flat,” Rob said, pulling to the curb and letting the car engine idle. It was only a few hundred metres down the street, but she was glad she didn’t risk getting lost or accosted again.
“Thank you so much.” Grace had told him everything over a warming cup of coffee.
“I don’t know how you managed it, but memorising the number plate was the best thing you could’ve done. It’ll play a big role in finding the perpetrator when you report it.”
Relieved she’d done something right, she got out of the car and looked up and down the street for the green Corolla. It was nowhere to be seen, so she closed the car door, bent to the open window and thanked him again.
“No problems at all. Glad I could help. Take care and enjoy your time with your friend.”
He drove off, and Grace sat in the stairwell near Jackie’s door. Grace knew Jackie had to collect Paige from the babysitter after her shift, but every second until eleven o’clock, when Jackie and Paige arrived back, had felt like an eternity. Her pounding heart hadn’t let up for one second.
“Shoot, Grace, have you seen a ghost?”
Jackie nursed a sleeping Paige against her chest and hugged Grace.
“Let’s have a cuppa, and I’ll tell you what happened.”
“That bad, hey?”
Grace could only nod. She’d suffered enough stress for one night, and if she wasn’t careful, she would spill everything out along with a lot of tears. Not her style at all.
An hour later, Grace rubbed at her tired eyes. Jackie had been a great shoulder to lean on and unburden the ordeal Grace had endured.
“I think you should report the incident and do it tonight while everything is fresh in your mind. He’s out there prowling the streets right now. They might even spot his vehicle.”
It made sense to do so, but with no phone connection in Jackie’s flat, she had no choice but to walk back to the shopping centre to the closest phone box.
Any other night, it would’ve been a beautiful walk on a cool March evening, with plenty of street lighting. But that night, nearing midnight, Grace jogged back along the street and over the highway and thankfully reached the phone box without incident. After inserting sufficient coins, she rang the number for the central police station and spoke to an officer. Reassured that they would send an officer out to Jackie’s house that night to discuss it, Grace was saying goodbye when the green Corolla suddenly came to a stop on the other side of the phone booth.
Terror seized her; she shouted, “Oh, my God, he’s just stopped near me.”
“Drop the phone and run,” the officer commanded.
Grace did just that. She ran back over the divided road with the medium strip and didn’t look back.
Her thumping heart brought with it every fear imaginable. What if he saw which ground-floor flat she’d run to? What if she put Jackie and Paige in danger? But Grace had no choice and pounded frantically on Jackie’s door. When it opened, she rushed in and switched off the lights.
“Lock the laundry door and don’t make a sound. He’s after me again,” Grace hissed in a trembling voice.
Jackie sat crouched on the floor with Paige in her arms, rocking back and forth. Grace silently moved to the kitchen and grabbed a carving knife. She tightened her hold around its handle as anger duelled with her terror. If something happened to Jackie because she’d led this psychopath to her doorstep, she’d never forgive herself. She would use the knife without hesitation.
Grace stood to the side of a window, obscured by the curtain. She could see quite well without the lights on because of the full moon outside. She looked out towards the main highway and gave thanks for the medium strip. It’d prevented the madman from getting to her and staying near his car. Unable to do both because of it, had effectively saved her life.
Grace gasped for a breath and froze. Walking around the flat and trying to peer inside past the curtains was the same man. Her hand tightened around the handle of the knife. She didn’t dare say a word or move an inch. She was too far to the side to see her, but she wasn’t taking any chances. Any movement of the curtain and he’d be immediately alerted.
It felt like an eternity to Grace, but probably only ten minutes before she was confident enough to collapse to the floor and relieve the shaking in her legs.
“What do we do?” Jackie slid closer to her after placing a sleeping Paige on a rug.
Grace kept her voice to a whisper. “I don’t know if he’s gone or not. We just wait until the police come. They told me they would.”
It took an agonising hour for the detectives to show up. Grace was beyond tired when they took her statement, a description of the man and his car and the number plate details. When the police left and she curled up on Jackie’s cracked-leather lounge under a small crochet rug, sleep eluded her. She tossed and turned, the frightful thoughts of what could’ve happened running rampant. Added to that was the fear for Jackie’s safety. She’d led that psychopath right to her doorstep, and in the morning, she would press Jackie to find a new place to live.
Eventually, she must’ve snoozed because Grace woke to another knock on the front door. “It’s the police,” a male voice sounded behind the door. With her heart still hammering inside her chest, she checked the security latch before slightly opening the door. She sagged against the wall with relief at the sight of the two detectives.
“Good morning. Are you Grace?” one of the officers asked.
Grace rubbed her sleepy eyes and nodded.
“If it’s okay with you,” the other asked, “can we show you some photos? We’d like you to identify the man.”
Grace didn’t hesitate, slid the security chain off and stepped back to open the door fully. “Come in. This is my friend’s flat; she and her baby are still asleep. You won’t need to wake her as she didn’t see anything.” Grace pressed one hand to her churning stomach, recalling how frightened Jackie had been. The last thing she wanted was to wake her up. She would’ve had a disturbed sleep too.
“No, that won’t be necessary,” the detective said, opening a manilla folder and pulling out a wad of photos.
“Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?” Grace asked as the detective lined up the pictures on the kitchen table, ensuring the names were covered.
“No thank you. We’ll do this quickly and leave you to enjoy the day,” the second detective said as he pulled out a notepad and pen from his top pocket and wrote something down. “When you’re ready, can you look closely at each image and tell me if the man who harassed you last night is displayed.”
Grace tentatively stepped towards the table and ran her eyes over the dozen images. Without any hesitation, she pointed to one of the mug shots. “That’s him. Without a doubt.”
