Hostage Read Free Page B

and heard him mutter ‘Bitch’. I didn’t know if he was talking about me or Helene or even the lip balm lady.
    ‘Excuse me a moment,’ Helene said primly to the suited lady. She turned to the young guy. ‘I’m going to have to ask you to leave,’ said Helene in her best annoying voice.
    ‘I need this script filled.’ He swore.
    I noticed the black scuff-mark on the floor and hoped that it was Helene who had to clean it off. That she’d have to get down on her knees and scrub hard. Wrinkle her perfect white uniform. The guy with the script had made the mark with his trainers that were worn at the side.
    ‘I’m going to have to—’ she began again.
    Out the corner of my eye I saw him lean over the counter.
    Then Helene screamed. I think it was her, but I can’t be sure, because I was still looking at the mark on the floor. Then I heard someone say, ‘Steady on, son.’ A blur of colour rushed past me as somebody tried to be a hero and pull the kid to the ground, but I saw the trainers kick out and the blur of colour ended up on the floor. Then the young guy grabbed me and I could feel something cold at my neck.
    ‘Look what you’ve done,’ he demanded. I think he was talking to Helene but she just screamed again like someone in a horror movie. I heard the door buzzer beep again.
    ‘Get the cops,’ someone yelled.
    ‘Stay away,’ the guy holding me yelled.
    And then he pulled me outside.
    I wanted to tell him I couldn’t go.
    That it was Christmas Eve and I was going to cook turkey tomorrow with Mum’s special stuffing.
    That I had to get back to Bamps with his pills.
    That I still hadn’t bought a present for Laney and even though she was Laney that didn’t mean I shouldn’t get her a present.
    But he pulled at me and there was cold on my neck.
    Then we were outside.
    Then we were in a car.
    Then he was driving up Smith Street like there was no tomorrow.

05
    Fitzroy Police Station: 25 December, 1.49a.m.
    ‘You can’t smoke in here, Miss.’
    Laney scowled. ‘I know that,’ she said. ‘I just like to hold one when...’ She shoved the cigarette back into its packet. ‘How long is this going to take?’
    Tully chewed her nails, avoiding her aunt’s stare. Laney leaned in close and Tully could smell stale coffee on her breath. ‘I hope you’re happy, Tully,’ said Laney. ‘You’ve managed to ruin Christmas for everyone.’
    ‘As I explained earlier, Miss McCain,’ said the officer, ‘you may not speak or add anything to this interview.’
    ‘You talked to me first,’ said Laney, her eyebrows joined in a frown.
    Tully tried not to smile. Laney had been giving up cigarettes ever since Nan had died from lung cancer, three years ago now. Laney had promised Bamps that she’d given up, but Tully had found a pack of cigarettes in her bedside drawer the day that she’d moved in.
    And that wasn’t the only thing she had found.
    Way up the back of the drawer, hidden from view, was a faded colour photo of Laney with Tully’s mother, Sandra. They were standing either side of a man whose face had been cut out of the photo so that only the pointed end of his chin remained. The young man wore a shirt that was unbuttoned down to his chest to reveal a long throat and collar bones that jutted out, stretching his smooth skin. His hands, resting on one shoulder of each sister, were a light tan, fingers long and tapered. There was nothing remarkable about the shirt, which had a pocket on one side, and the photo ended at their waists. Laney was all teeth, smiling into the camera, while Sandra’s mouth held only the hint of a smile as she nestled slightly against the shoulder of the white shirt wearer. You could tell they were sisters from the shape of their faces and the curve of their brows.
    The faceless man was now in Tully’s memory tin.
    Tully suspected the faceless man was Uncle Remo, a guy that Aunt Laney had lived with for a couple of years. Aunt Laney had turned from Happy Aunt Laney to Sour