Anya tried to move her leg, which had gone numb underneath her.
Luke stayed still. “Affairs? You stupid bitch. What have you done?”
“I protected what was mine, and our child’s. What I did was for us. Our family.”
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, Des. You killed that teacher.” He rocked on the spot, almost in time with the TV flicker. “I’ve got to think.” He squatted down on his knees. “We’ve got to get out of here. But what do we do with her?”
Desiree bent down to put a hand on his shoulder.
“We can move somewhere new, start again. Change our names and give the kid a chance. Maybe some town in New Zealand.”
They were both going to kill her. Anya swung her other leg over and ran for her life.
“No, Des, don’t! Leave her alone.”
She spun and saw Desiree coming toward her, knife next to her shoulder. Like a cat, Luke landed between the women. Desiree thrust and stumbled forward into his arms. Anya ran for the door, not looking back.
A muffled moan came from behind her, then a horrible sucking noise. Someone had been stabbed. She had to get out. Fast.
She flicked on the light so Martin would know she was home. Nothing.
Running into the office, she pushed hard on the locked window. It too was deadlocked. She swung around, trying to think. Pain still pulsed in her head. A chair. What if she threw it through the window? Someone would notice.
She ran round the desk but could not get the chair out from behind. She tried to lift it, but her arms couldn’t take the weight. Oh God, she had to be quick. Then she thought of the back door. It was open.
She sidestepped out of the office, ready to sprint for her life. Then she saw the figure blocking the hallway.
Desiree stood, with the knife poised to attack.
The sucking noise had to be coming from Luke.
“You bitch, see what you’ve done? You’ve killed him!” the woman almost squealed. “You’re going to die, just like the others.”
Anya held both hands up in front of her, showing she had no weapon. Her arms and legs were her only defense, despite Desiree’s pregnancy. She could hear Luke struggling to breathe.
Terror filled her. Desiree had come here to kill her. Luke was all she cared about.
“I’m a doctor, remember. I can help him.” She kept her hands at face-level. “If you kill me, he might bleed to death.”
Desiree lowered the knife. “If he dies, I’ll slit your throat.”
Anya kept her arms forward, feeling her way in what little light there was. When she reached the lounge room, the sucking noise became louder and more frequent. She felt her hair yanked again as her captor pulled her over to Luke. He was lying on the floor near the coffee table. Anya knelt down and felt the wetness seep through her skirt. He was hemorrhaging and there was little she could do.
The gurgling, sucking noise came from the stab wound into his lung. It sounded like a tension pneumothorax, sucking air in and compressing his heart.
God, please don’t let him die yet, she thought. Feeling for a carotid pulse, her hopes faded. It was barely palpable, thready, rapid and weak. She leaned back for the rug from the lounge and felt her scalp tearing.
“Can you get me the rug?” she pleaded. “I need something to compress the bleeding.”
Desiree threw it at her. “Do it.”
Luke was barely conscious as life drained from him. Anya put pressure on his chest, which did little for his condition.
“What’s happening? What’s that sound?”
“It’s just air escaping from the wound,” Anya lied. “If I keep pressure on it, his breathing will slow and he’s likely to pass out. It’s his body’s way of saving oxygen.” She just hoped Desiree knew nothing about first aid. “This is serious. You’ve got to call an ambulance. There’s a mobile in my bag over there.” She pointed toward the kitchen.
“Don’t try anything stupid,” Desiree said, stepping backward to the handbag. Anya knew she was being watched. Her hands kept still, but with her knees she tried to mop up as much of the shiny liquid as possible. Even Desiree had to know he’d lost too much blood to survive.
“It’s not working!” She came over and held the knife between Anya’s shoulder blades.
Anya flinched as she remembered. She’d let the phone go flat and hadn’t recharged it. “What about the landline?” she urged.
“It’s dead,” Desiree said desperately. “You’re gonna have to save him.” She stuck the knife deeper, piercing Anya’s skin. “Remember, if he dies, you do too.”
52
Martin turned down the radio and checked his watch again. Why did his ex-wife have to be so annoying? She knew he was bringing Ben. You’d think that, of all days, she could leave her precious work a bit earlier to meet them. He and Nita had plans to celebrate his new job. It wasn’t every day he was named manager of a product line.
Anya’s mobile wasn’t answering; neither was the phone. He had to admit, this wasn’t like her. He looked up and down the street. No sign of her. Where the hell was she? Inside the adjacent terrace a figure watched through the curtains.
He opened the electric window on his son’s side and stepped out of the car. “I’ll be right here, you can see me. I’m just going to say hi to the lady next door.”
“You mean Mrs. Bugalugs?” Ben said, continuing with his game.
Martin just hoped the old woman didn’t take offense if Ben let it slip one day.
He buttoned his jacket and, shoulders hunched, opened the gate. No doubt the old busy-body deliberately left it rickety so she could hear every squeak it made.
With the porch light on, he knocked on the door, looking back to check his son. Ben waved and watched, suddenly curious.
The door opened a few inches, as if she didn’t know who was there.
“Hi, I’m Anya from next door’s ex-husband. I was wondering if you’d seen her this afternoon or tonight.”
The woman opened the door further and clutched her cardigan with knobbled arthritic fingers.
“I don’t like to spread gossip,” she said, peering toward his car. “Have you got the little fellow in there?”
“He’s here to spend the weekend with his mother, only she’s not here. But her car is out front.”
“You’d think she could have waited until her son wasn’t visiting.”
“Pardon?” Martin said. “Waited for what?”
She leaned forward and gave an exaggerated blink. Martin saw her yellowed teeth up close for the first time.
“To entertain. To entertain that man who went in there.”
The idea made Martin feel uncomfortable. He’d never imagined his ex-wife with another man, although he’d been with other women. Anya had always seemed married to her job. Except when that smarmy lawyer, Brody, had been sniffing around a while back.
His irritation turned to concern. This didn’t make sense. Anya wouldn’t do that to Ben, or him. One of the things he most respected about her was how she put her son’s emotional needs above her own. He began to feel queasy, like something wasn’t right.
“Are you
“As I said, I don’t like to spread gossip,” she replied, and closed the door.
He knocked again, and waited for her to return. She couldn’t have been more than a few feet from the door, but she made him wait for at least a minute. His right leg twitched, like it did when he was nervous about
