The Missing and the Dead

61

‘NO!’

Samantha hit the water, and the weight of the wheelchair pulled her straight under.

Logan ran for the edge, then David crashed into him. A one-shouldered tackle that sent them both crunching onto the walkway.

A grunt, then pain flashed across Logan’s ribs as the extendable baton cracked into them.

He raised an arm, covering his head. Kicked out, missed.

But David didn’t. The baton smashed into Logan’s upper arm. Numbness followed a wave of broken glass, from his shoulder to his fingertips. Flat on his back, one leg in the cold water.

David scrambled on top, hauled the baton up again.

Logan jerked up a knee and made contact. But it didn’t make any difference.

The baton cracked down again, tearing into his scalp. Echoing through his skull on waves of burning coal.

His fist jabbed up and round. Caught David on the side of the nose, snapping it. Warm blood pattered down.

‘AAAAAAAAAAAAGH!’ David reared back, one hand covering his ruined nose, bright red oozing between his fingers.

Logan forced himself up on his numb arm and battered his right elbow into David’s face, mashing those bloody fingers into teeth and bone. Then grabbed a handful of long dark hair and yanked him forwards. Turning. Putting his weight behind it.

David’s head bounced off the concrete with a dull thunk. Twice. Three times.

Catherine screamed.

Logan pushed the limp body off of him and tumbled into the swimming pool. Cold, squeezed his body, forcing the air out of his lungs.

The wheelchair was only a couple of feet underwater, on its front, pinning Samantha to the rocky floor of the pool. She wasn’t moving. Wasn’t trying to save herself. She sat there, face down, strapped in, still like the dead.

He wrapped his arms around the chair’s back and heaved, dragging the whole thing up.

She flopped in her seat, head lolling, skin pale as ivory, lips granite grey. Water cascaded from her open mouth.

Thunder growled through the sky, reverberating back from the hills. A squall of rain pebbled the surface of the pool, bounced off the concrete walkway.

He snatched at the Velcro straps holding her in the chair. Tore them free, then dragged her out of it. Half wading, half swimming to the ramp at the side of the water leading up onto the tiered apron.

‘Come on …’ He pulled her up onto the walkway by her collar, knelt beside her and felt for a pulse. Nothing. ‘No, no, no, no, no.’

Logan tipped her head to the side and shook it, till water stopped running from her mouth and nostrils. Chest compressions. One one-thousand. Two one-thousand. Three one-thousand.

Hands snatched at his back.

Catherine — eyes wide and bloodshot, face streaming with rainwater, black hair plastered to her head. ‘I’LL KILL YOU!’

One one-thousand. Two one-thousand. Three one-thousand.

Then a fist thumped into his back.

‘KILL YOU!’

One one-thousand. Two one-thousand. Three one-thousand.

A palm slapped the side of his head.

One one-thousand. Two one-thousand. Three one-thousand.

Nails dug into his neck.

He snapped an elbow back. Caught her in the mouth.

One one-thousand. Two one-thousand. Three one-thousand.

She stumbled back, moaning and spluttering. Scarlet smeared her lips and chin, dripped onto her denim jacket, spreading into the damp fabric like poppy blooms. Then one white trainer caught in a crumbling pothole and she fell, arms out. The dull crack when her head hit the concrete was like a distant gun going off.

Logan laced his hands together and pushed against Samantha’s chest again. ‘Come on!’

One one-thousand. Two one-thousand. Three one-thousand.

He tilted Samantha’s head back, pinched her nose and breathed for her. Did it again.

More chest compressions: one one-thousand. Two one-thousand. Three one-thousand.

Something solid cracked off his head, hard enough to send him sprawling as broken bells and sirens screamed through his skull. Gagh … Black and yellow dots sparkled in the dark clouds above his face, riding the wave of heat trying to push his eyeballs free.

Then everything faded to grey, hiding the pool and the hills and the buildings. Like being wrapped in a shroud that muffled the sound of rain and pounding blood in his ears.

…

Get up.

Nothing but grey.

…

Then the world snapped back into Technicolor.

Graham Stirling stood over him, extendable baton clutched in both hands like a baseball bat. ‘Well, well, well. Looks like it’s just you and me again.’

‘Gnnn …’

‘I’d really love to take my time, but this has all turned into a bit of a mess, hasn’t it?’

The baton cracked into Logan’s leg. Glass and barbed wire ripped through the muscle.

Up. Get up.

‘You’ve spoiled it.’

It battered against his chest. Knives and needles, cracking through his ribs.

GET UP!

‘I had them all nice and trained. But you couldn’t …’ He stopped. Stared off at the entrance to the outdoor pool.

The ringing in Logan’s ears changed tone, wailing up and down, regular and electronic. And it wasn’t in his head any more.

Stirling put his hands up and the baton clattered to the concrete apron as two patrol cars screeched to a halt by the pool buildings. ‘Your word against mine again. David and Catherine tried to kill you. I tried to stop them, but I was so weak after they attacked me.’

The Big Car’s doors sprang open and Nicholson and Steel charged out into the rain. Sprinting across the crumbling poolside. Tufty and Deano jumped out of the other car.

Oh, thank God.

‘No jury’s going to believe anything else.’

Logan rolled onto his front, forced himself to his knees, and shuffled over to Samantha.

One one-thousand. Two one-thousand. Three one-thousand.

Breathe …

One one-thousand. Two one-thousand. Three one-thousand.

Breathe.

‘You lied about me last time, why would they think this was any different?’

One one-thousand. Two one-thousand. Three one-thousand.

SODDING BREATHE!

Samantha’s chest convulsed and foul-smelling water spewed out of her mouth. Coughing and spluttering. Heaving in great ragged breaths, eyes wide, staring up into the thick black sky. Hands pressing against her chest.

He scooped her up and held her: cold, clammy, but warming up.

Steel’s voice cut through the downpour. ‘You! Where the hell do you think you’re going?’

Graham Stirling faked a couple of sobs. ‘They tried to kill me! They attacked me in my house and beat me and I was so scared.’

‘Get your arse over here.’

‘Samantha.’ Logan brushed the hair from her face and she blinked up at him.

Frowned. ‘L …’ She licked her lips. Swallowed. ‘Logan?’

Holy shit.

He almost dropped her. Squeezed her tighter instead as something warm burst inside his chest. ‘Hey you.’

‘Where am … Why am I all wet?’ Samantha reached for his hand, but hers wouldn’t work, the fingers stayed curled into a claw. ‘What-’

‘You haven’t moved in four years. But it’s going to be OK. I promise.’ He leaned in and kissed her.