Southern Sunset: Book One of 44 South Read online

  “He’s still here, then?” I asked. She nodded. “He interviewed you?” I guessed. Another nod of her head. “Mac and Annmarie?”

  Just then a loud crash sounded out toward the back of the building. I rushed away from Sheila to investigate. In the case files room, I found Mac and Everett. Over fifty case files scattered across the floor at their feet.

  “What did you do that for?” Everett was shouting.

  “I thought you were going to fall over. You looked faint,” Mac explained.

  “I was perfectly fine until you bowled into me.”

  “Well, sorry for giving a rat’s arse about your state of health.”

  “I think you purposely pushed me into that shelf. Is there something here you don’t want me to read, Senior Constable?”

  “What? You can read, too? I’ll be damned.”

  I cleared my throat. Two sets of enraged eyes glanced at me.

  “Is there a problem?” I asked.

  “If you call your Neanderthal senior constable a problem, then yes!”

  “Is he not answering your questions, Senior Investigator?” I asked.

  “Oh, he’s answering them, and then elaborating on non-sensical, miscellaneous information for minutes on end.”

  “I thought it might be pertinent,” Mac complained. “How was I to know it wasn’t?”

  I tried not to smile.

  “Where’s Annmarie?” I asked.

  “I told her to take her lunch break without me if this went on past twelve,” Mac advised, glaring at Everett.

  “How long have you been at it?” I queried.

  “Three hours!” Everett complained. “Ms Cooper took all of ten minutes!”

  I couldn’t stop the twitching of my lips.

  “Well,” I said. “See that you clean this lot up.” I nodded toward the case files.

  “Of course, Sergeant,” Mac agreed immediately, as if he followed my orders without complaint on a daily basis.

  Everett harrumphed and then swiped up his briefcase. “I shall take my lunch break, as well.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so, Senior Investigator,” I said, stepping in front of him to block his way. “You were involved in this mess, were you not?”

  “I was the innocent party!”

  “Strange,” I said, catching Mac’s wink over Everett’s shoulder. “How claiming one’s innocence doesn’t seem to sway some people.”

  “Really,” Mac drawled, “you should be quite familiar with that concept.”

  I left Mac to his games, then checked my cubbyhole for messages. An ESR report was hidden behind a stack of bushcraft and survival training pamphlets - Mac’s doing, at a guess. I scanned the document and then slipped it into my vest pocket. It seemed James Whiting smoked, traces of cigarette ash had been found in the folds of his wallet. Although, from memory, he didn’t show signs of nicotine abuse in his autopsy. I filed that little nugget of information away and swung by reception, reassuring Sheila, then headed out to my car. Grabbing a bite to eat at the petrol station, I turned the vehicle toward the highest point of New Zealand.

  Mount Cook, Aoraki, awaited.

  And the ghost of Missy Drake.

  Chapter 40

  It’s Maggie

  Luke

  Matt’s ute wasn’t alone in the driveway when I returned home for dinner. RED 1 sat parked up beside it, shining black paint, gleaming chrome wheels, sheepskin car seats covers. Mum’s pink fluffy dice hanging down from the rear view mirror.

  I smiled to myself as I clomped up the steps onto the porch, spotting the twins immediately. They were playing hide and seek, although by the looks of it, they’d got the rules of the game wrong. Both of them were crouched down behind the swing seat, their nobly little knees and lace trimmed socks visible at the bottom. They were holding hands, their knuckles white with the death grip they had going on.

  Then one of them started to pee.

  My heart slammed into my throat and my breaths stuttered. It hurt. It fucking hurt to see them like this.

  “Hey,” I said softly. “Anyone seen my nieces out here?”

  A curly, dark blonde head slowly rose from behind the swing seat, wide brown eyes met mine, a lip trembled.

  “Hey,” I said. “I know you.”

  She blinked. “Rachel,” I whispered. “You OK, sweetheart?” Another blink, and then slowly her head slipped down behind the swing seat, her arm going around her twin, Dani.

  I stood there and tried to breathe. Tried not to fucking cry like a little girl. I sucked in a deep breath and pushed open the front door, hearing my mother’s voice immediately.

  “This is ridiculous, Josh. These are our friends and family, you’re talking about. None of them would want to harm Matt.”

  “I know, love,” Dad said in reply. “But someone has to have started this.”

  “Not family,” Mum said adamantly. “We’re Drakes. We don’t betray each other.”

  I stepped into the kitchen and caught Dad wrapping his arm around Mum’s shoulders. She looked frail, all of a sudden. As if the years had finally caught up with her. Matt sat at the table nursing a coffee. He looked rugged. His eyes met mine and his chin lifted.

  “You just missed Charlie,” he said.

  “Anything I should know about?” It was late for Charlie to be working.

  “Something about the mechanic, the generator, and the main shed.” Matt shrugged his shoulders and took a sip of his drink.

  I scratched my head, sounded like a bad joke, and pulled out a chair. Taking it, I reached for the coffee.

  “Rachel and Dani are out on the porch,” I announced to the room at large.

  “I wondered where they’d disappeared to,” Mum said.

  “Dani’s peed her pants,” I said as neutrally as I could manage.

  “Shit,” Matt said with feeling.

  “I’ll go get them,” Mum offered.

  “No. I will. They’re my kids.” Matt stood from the table, leaving the room without looking back.

  “Well, that’s a turn up,” Mum said.

  “He’s stopped drinking,” Dad offered. “Early days, but still.”

  “This is tearing him apart,” Mum explained.

  “Then he needs to harden up,” Dad argued.

  “You’re too tough on them sometimes, Joshua.”

  “And you’re too soft.”

  “Jesus,” I said. “We’re grown arse men.”

  “Don’t you use that kind of language with me, Luke Drake,” Mum admonished, and then turned to the oven and withdrew a cheese flan.

  Dad offered me a wink. “Hear things are progressing with the young sergeant.”

  I cringed. “Matt gossiping again?”

  “It’s not gossip when it’s about family!” Matt shouted from the downstairs bathroom.

  “You’re getting as bad as Sheila!” I shouted back.

  “You wish!” he yelled back. “Sheila would have drawn pictures!”

  “Sheila wouldn’t have stayed when she wasn’t invited!”

  Dad started chuckling. “Caught an eyeful, did he?”

  “Dad!” both Matt and I said in unison.

  Matt walked back into the room, Dani clinging to his neck in one arm. Rachel holding his other hand, hiding behind his leg.

  “Just in time for dinner, girls,” Mum announced, placing utensils and plates on the table.

  “Bit late for you, isn’t it?” I said, helping myself to a portion.

  “We went snowball fighting,” Dad announced. “Out by Lake Ruataniwha. Someone got very competitive.”

  He winked at Rachel. She offered a tentative smile.

  “You’d think it was world war three,” Mum announced.

  “A friendly match, that’s all. Dani’s got a great right arm.”

  He cuffed her on the shoulder gently. She only cringed slightly.

  “So, this sergeant,” Mum said, sitting down and helping herself to salad. “She seems nice.”

  “Mum,” I warne
d. I was not going to discuss my ‘feelings’ with my mother.

  “Just asking,” Mum said affronted.

  “But can she fire a rifle?” Dad asked.

  “Of course, she can,” Matt argued. “She’s a cop.”

  “A city cop,” Dad shot back.

  “A detective,” I said. “She wears a gun.”

  Dad looked at me and then at Matt. “You didn’t have a position open for a detective.”

  “Doesn’t mean I didn’t need one.”

  Dad nodded his head slowly and then took a bite of his flan. Chewing thoughtfully, he finally added, “Then she could be good for deer hunting season.”

  “Dad!” I said. “You are not taking my woman deer hunting.”

  “Your woman?” Mum asked. “Does this mean she’s special?”

  Oh, God, shoot me now.

  Matt started laughing, then Dad followed. Mum reluctantly joined them. I was scowling at them all when the phone rang. Reaching across to the wall behind me, I picked up the handset and said into it, “Red Tussock Station. Or madhouse,” I muttered.

  “Luke?” a male voice said.

  “Yes,” I replied. “Who’s this?”

  “Andrew McQueen.”

  “Oh, hey, Mac,” I said, looking toward Matt. Matt sat back and raised an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

  “Is Matt with you?” Mac asked.

  “Yeah, hold on,” I handed the phone over to Matt, and then poked my tongue out at the girls, making them giggle.

  Thank fuck for that. Whatever crisis they’d had, they’d recovered enough to smile.

  I rubbed at my chest as I watched them pick through their food, vaguely aware of Matt’s voice in the background. Matt stood up, catching my attention again, and walked the handset back to the base unit. And then turned around and caught my eye.

  “There’s been an accident,” he said, his face paling.

  “Oh, dear,” Mum whispered, hand reaching out to one of the girls.

  “M..Mount Cook Road,” Matt said, stuttering.

  Jesus, just what Matt needed.

  “Mac want your help?” I asked.

  “Luke,” he said. “It’s Maggie.”

  Chapter 41

  That’s When I Started Panicking

  Maggie

  There used to be this ad on TV. Two possums standing in the middle of the road, their big wide eyes staring off at the headlights of an approaching vehicle. “Check it out,” one of them says. “Two moons.” It always made me laugh.

  I wasn’t laughing now.

  I squinted my eyes and lifted a hand to the rear view mirror, tipping it down so the headlights behind me didn’t ruin my night vision. It was too late. Already the dark expanse of Mount Cook Road sparked before me, little spots of brightness where they shouldn’t be, flaring before my eyes.

  “Low beam, arsehole,” I muttered, slowing the Commodore down in an attempt to gain the driver’s attention.

  From the glare in the wing mirrors, it was obvious he didn’t give a shit.

  I indicated my intention to pull over, slowing the vehicle further. Snow crunched under my tyres as the car hit the dirt and loose grit on the side of the road. An engine roared. Those bloody headlights flared even brighter, and then the dickhead sideswiped me, performing a picture perfect PIT manoeuvre.

  I hadn’t been going that fast, but the snow on the side of the road was slick with ice, my rear flicked out, my nose spun around, and then he was ramming me.

  The next few seconds felt like hours as the car spun and his car spun and the road became nothing more than a dark expanse spasmodically lit up by two moons.

  Four, maybe, if you counted my high beams. The glow of our combined headlights merged into one mesmerising arc as it swept over tar seal, snow bank, pine tree, tar seal, snow bank, pine tree, and back around again and again and again.

  I swear he had his foot to the floor of his vehicle.

  It’s strange what you think about when you know you’re about to crash. I thought about the possums. I thought about how they teach you to turn into a spin and drive out of a corner. I thought about Red Tussock Rangers. Forestry workers. And snow ploughs.

  I thought about Luke.

  And then the car that had hit me gunned its engine and fishtailed off down the roadway out of sight.

  I woke up in a mangled car.

  The airbag had deployed and a huge pine tree stood where the engine was meant to be. A volunteer fireman, complete with face visor and protective gear, was leaning over the top of me. The roof of the car had been peeled back like a tin of sardines. I could smell pine needles and snow, diesel and grease. And whatever aftershave the fireman wore.

  I wondered where the possums had got to.

  “Hey, Sergeant,” the fireman said, his voice muffled by the visor protecting his face. “We’ll have you out of here in a jiffy.”

  I tried to nod my head, but something restricted movement. Everything seemed to be weighted down as though under the sea. When I lifted my hand to my neck, it was attached to a line. Fluid was dribbling through it into the side of my wrist, crepe bandages securing the IV site.

  I stared at the bruises at the base of my thumbs; they looked purple in the artificial rescue light. I tried to move my fingers, but they ached. When I finally manage to lift my free hand up to my neck, I touched plastic. A brace.

  I blinked at the crumpled hood. My vision blurred on the pine tree sitting no more than a few feet away. The possums were a figment of my imagination.

  And then I realised I couldn’t feel my legs.

  That’s when I started panicking.

  Chapter 42

  What Aren’t You Telling Me?

  Luke

  It was carnage. The flashing lights of the ambulance and fire engines painted the snow in alternating shades of red and blue. Neither was reassuring.

  I couldn’t see Maggie; they wouldn’t let me near the car. But Matt had made it to her side and was talking to the fire chief. Mac was shining a torch light on the tar seal a few metres away, skid marks could be seen where Maggie’s car had spun out. Bits of metal and plastic littered Mount Cook Road. The front of Maggie’s car looked mangled even from this distance.

  I was finding it hard to breathe.

  “There’s paint transfer,” Annmarie said at my side.

  “What?” I couldn’t stop looking to see if Maggie had moved yet.

  “On the sergeant’s car. Paint transfer.”

  I slowly turned my head to look down at her. She smiled; it was full of understanding.

  “Do you want me to find out what Mac’s discovered?”

  She was trying to help, I realised. Keeping me involved. She was probably breaking a hundred crime scene rules because she could see I was falling apart, right there.

  “Yeah,” I said with a nod of my head. “That’d be good.”

  “OK,” she offered, and trudged away toward where Mac was crouched down looking at something.

  I wanted to watch them. I couldn’t stop watching for Maggie.

  She didn’t get out of the car.

  The firemen crawled over the vehicle like insects over a garbage heap. Their reflective jackets catching the safety lights and making a mockery of the scene; making it seem more surreal than it actually was.

  This was fucking real.

  My eyes gradually made their way back to Mac and Annmarie. They had a tape measure out and were marking spots on the ground with chalk. Mac was pointing where he wanted Annmarie to stand, she’d move, holding her end of the tape, he’d check it, then write something down. At one stage they brought out a laser measuring tool, but obviously they were having difficulty with it.

  Mac finally stood up and scratched his head, then looked back towards Maggie’s car. His face was set hard; anger marring his features.

  I glanced back at Matt. He was leaning down over the car; talking to Maggie? I started walking before I thought better of it. Several fireman looked in my direction, but no one stopped m
e until I was within a few feet of the car.

  “You can’t be here,” a burly looking paramedic said.

  “She’s my girlfriend,” I said, throat dry.

  His features softened, but he shook his head. “You need to wait for the senior sergeant.”

  “Matt?” I called. Matt’s head turned and he caught my eye. He didn’t look happy.

  I felt a hand on my arm and looked down, ready to fling the fucking thing off me.

  “Mr Drake,” Annmarie said. “Let’s step back, so they can work.”

  “I need to see her.”

  “I know,” Annmarie said. “Give it some time.”

  “Is she all right?” I demanded, looking toward the ambulance officer who was still standing there. “Why aren’t you doing something?”

  “There’s not enough room, sir. We have to let the firemen cut her out first.”

  Jesus. I staggered back, my hand covering my mouth.

  “Luke,” Annmarie tried. “Come on, I’ll tell you what I can.”

  That was the only reason why I let her pull me away from Maggie. That and because I knew if Maggie was still trapped, me getting in the way would only delay things.

  Matt looked back across the distance to me and nodded his head; reinforcing my reasoning, but not calming my out of control thoughts. A look was shared between us that spoke volumes.

  I’ve got this, his said.

  Take care of her, mine pleaded.

  “It seems,” Annmarie said, drawing my reluctant attention once we’d reached Mac’s car parked off to the side, “that she spun out, rotating 360° several times. She wouldn’t have been able to avoid the tree. She was out of control when she hit it.”

  “No shit,” I muttered. I felt sick to the stomach.

  “From what Mac can tell, she wasn’t travelling fast, but there’s ice and well, you know how that is. No chains, either.”