something.
“I’m sorry to disturb, but would you mind just keeping an eye on my son while I go next door?”
She seemed to consider the request. “I suppose he can sit out here on the porch. I don’t like kids in the house.”
Martin hurried back to the car and grabbed Ben. “Put your jumper on, it’s cold out here.”
“But Dad-” His arms disappeared, reappearing inside the jumper.
“It’s just for a minute. I’m going to see if the house is unlocked.”
“But Dad, she’s creepy.”
“Shhhh. Don’t say that. And I’ll only be a minute. Okay?”
Martin began to perspire as he led Ben up the path.
“I’m watching,” the woman said through the partially opened door.
Martin wasn’t sure whether that was threatening or reassuring, but he didn’t have any other options right now. At least if Ben was out the front, he could hear if his son called.
Martin hopped the fence into Anya’s yard, landing on a bed of violets. He listened and didn’t hear anything. Around the back, he noticed an open window and his stomach lurched.
Anya never left anything open. She was obsessive about locking everything, which was one of the things he disliked about her. Something was wrong, really wrong.
Instinct told him to bang on the back door, but if Anya were in trouble he could make it worse. What if something had already happened to her? How would he cope? She was such a good mother, Ben would never get over it.
What if she was having sex? Wiping sweaty hands on his trousers, he put the thought from his mind. He decided to break in the back door. Maybe he could kick it in. Shouldering it only worked in the movies. He looked around for something to use as a battering ram. Then it occurred. What if there was more than one man inside? How would he fight? He’d never been in a fight in his life. What if they had weapons?
Ben could lose both parents if he didn’t think this through properly. Heart speeding, he decided to get help before he went in. He ran back and jumped the fence again.
Mrs. Bugalugs was sitting on the porch next to Ben.
“That man who went in,” he said. “Did Anya let him in the front door?”
“No, he sneaked around the back. He’s probably married,” she added.
“Call the police,” he said. “Someone’s broken in. I’m going back to help.”
They heard a smash and Martin knew he didn’t have a choice.
“I knew that woman would bring trouble,” the old lady said as he hurried back over the fence.
53
Luke Platt’s pulse became erratic. The rate slowed with each breath. A few more gurgles and it was over. He exhaled and the noises stopped. Anya put down the hand and a scar reflected the light. The white patch. She almost vomited. He’d had the tattoo removed.
Desiree had hurled the phonebase at the television. The screen smashed, sending sparks flying. Anya turned her eyes away. Hopefully someone had heard the noise, she thought. Maybe the woman next door.
“Come on, Luke, that’s it, you’re going to sleep but you’ll still be able to hear us.” She kept pressing on the rug and pretending to feel the non-existent pulse. “You’re doing really well.”
She glanced up at Desiree, unable to see the woman’s face. Lights flashed across her retinas every time she blinked, thanks to the screen damage. She hoped like hell that Desiree couldn’t clearly see Luke’s face. Even without good vision, the knife back between her shoulder blades meant moving was too risky.
“Desiree, you should talk to him. Tell him how you feel. It’ll help.”
The pregnant woman started to cry, but the knife moved millimeters deeper. Anya arched her back to try to avoid the blade’s tip penetrating further and felt a warm ooze down her spine.
“I didn’t mean to do it, baby. I just wanted to protect you.”
Anya felt for the absent pulse again. “You’re doing well, Luke. Hang in there. I think we’ve stopped the bleeding.” She used part of the rug to hide the blood pooling around the body, seeping along the floor. “You’re in shock, I need to keep you warm.” She did not know how much longer she could keep up the charade. Pretty soon it would be obvious that Luke was dead.
A noise near the kitchen caught her attention. Desiree didn’t seem to notice.
Then she heard it again. Someone else was in the house. God, she hoped Desiree hadn’t brought anyone with her.
Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a shadow. It stayed still. She spoke to let whoever it was know where they were.
“I can’t help Luke with you sticking the knife in my back. I can’t get away. You know that.”
“Shut up. Just fix him.”
The shadow was close, then moved quickly.
Anya turned her head too late. Something solid whipped her head back. She fell to the right, clutching her face as the thud landed.
“Annie, get the knife.” Martin’s voice was breathless. “Hurry! I’ve got her down.”
Relief pulsing through her, Anya crawled, feeling her way on the floor. The knife had to be up the hallway. Grasping and groping, she couldn’t find it in the dark. It could have been anywhere. The sound of a siren approached. She’d never heard anything sound so good, except Martin’s voice a moment before.
The lights were out, but the appliances weren’t. She crawled back behind the lounge and around to the lamp. She flicked the switch, trying to catch her breath.
Martin lay on top of Desiree, who was trying to buck free. It was like seeing a turtle on its back.
“Use your knees to pin her arms,” Anya urged.
Martin held her wrists down and crept up, avoiding her abdomen, and sat straddled over her, knees trapping her elbows. The woman hissed and spat like a trapped animal.
Within seconds, the police arrived and entered via the back door, followed shortly after by Hayden Richards and Meira Sorrenti.
“We need an ambulance, there’s been a stabbing,” Hayden yelled into his mobile phone.
Anya slumped to the floor, aching and exhausted. “Where’s Ben?”
Meira bent down. “He’s with one of the constables.”
“Platt’s dead,” she said. “She stabbed him when he got between us.”
Desiree wailed, “Liar! You killed him. You said he was gonna be all right.”
The ambulance men arrived and one ran to Anya, who’d only just realized she was covered in Luke’s blood. “I’m all right,” she said. “The blood’s not mine.”
Meira remained at her side. “Nasty hit to your face. Did Platt do that?”
“No, that was my ex-husband.” She smiled and the movement split her lip open. “What did you hit me with?”
“My foot. I dived on the woman. Only I misjudged a little and kicked you. Sorry.”
Two uniforms lifted and hand-cuffed Desiree before leading her away. Martin stood watching the commotion. He had seen death during his years as an intensive-care nurse, but he had never been involved in a crime. His whole body trembled. Hayden Richards moved over and took him outside.
All Anya could think of was that at least he was respectable enough for Ben to see once he got over the initial shock. Whereas she’d have to get cleaned up first.
Meira asked one of the Crime Scene Officers to swab and photograph Anya straight away, so they could bag her clothes and let her get clean.
“Could you hold out your hands, please?” asked the gloved constable. A white cotton swab dabbed at one of the bloody spots. Then another. “Did you scratch your assailant?”
“No…I mean, yes, I think. When he had me around the neck.”
The constable swabbed beneath her nails and then cut them, placing the cuttings in a plastic jar.
