‘Nah, I made sure I had a good alibi for that job. The mob guy I owe money to backed me on that one because I promised to pay him in full after I got all of dear old Serena’s millions. He’s a little pissed the job didn’t go the way it was supposed to, but he’s willing to wait. For a while.’
‘But what if he changes his mind?’
He looked at her as if she was crazy. ‘He’d never rat me out. He wants his money as much as I do.’ He picked up a second canister that was by the kitchen door. ‘Enough talk. It’s time for me to light it up and say adios.’
‘Someone will see you,’ she repeated. ‘Someone will know.’
He barked out a laugh. ‘They’re all out looking for you in the wrong place. Nobody is looking here. I made your red-headed nurse tell that great lumbering farmer you’ve been fucking that she hadn’t seen you here before I took care of her. I made sure I waited long enough so that they’re all busy looking for you in the last place you were seen. Nobody will come looking until it’s too late to save you.’
‘You can’t do this.’
‘Sure I can. And when I’m done, I’ll nip into the bush behind this place. I’ve left a car for myself on that back road down the gully. Nobody will know I was here. Nobody will connect me with the pathetic guy who was trying to start up a candle store. I’ve got my friends in Melbourne to swear I was there. Nobody’s going to be able to touch me. Then, I’ll get custody of that little shit Sam squirted out and have the money I need to get out of debt. And maybe, just maybe, if I’m feeling real generous, I might just let your dear papa see the little shit every now and then. I might even be able to squeeze some money out of the famous Diarmuid Brennan too.’ He smiled, and it was the coldest thing Prita had ever seen, freezing the words in her throat.
How could she not have seen that he was insane? Noticed there was something wrong with his interest in her, with the way he hung around but didn’t really talk with anyone but her? Because he was right. There were already too many people pulling her attention from him and he just seemed so ordinary. Someone nobody noticed or remembered because of how he hung back. He’d seemed shy, but it wasn’t that at all. He was calculating and scheming and she hadn’t seen any of it.
He threw the nearly empty container out the kitchen door into the living room, and, with a wave, let the door swing shut behind him. A moment later she heard him whistling and the sound of splashing as he moved around the lounge room.
He was going to do it. He was going to do it.
And nobody would know.
The fumes from the petrol caught in the back of her throat, making her cough and her eyes water. She had to find some way of getting out of this. Had to save Carter from that madman.
Desperately, she began to rock on the chair, pulling against the rope, her hands flopping uselessly by her sides. In the movies, they often broke free in situations like this by flipping and breaking the chair and getting free. She tried to get purchase, leaning forward to stand up so that she could maybe run backward and slam the chair into the wall or something. Her feet slipped in the petrol that had crept across the floor. The chair skidded backward a few feet and then tipped and she was falling, falling.
‘Oomph.’ Her head rapped against the floorboards, hard. She saw stars and there was a sharp throb in her shoulder where she’d landed. So much for doing it like in the movies. As if she could break apart these sturdy wooden chairs by doing some fancy flip thing she’d never had any training for. Who did she think she was? Black Widow?
Now what the hell was she going to do?
Pain lanced through her shoulder and down her arm.
She could feel her arm. Could move her arm. The fall had done something. Moved something. Maybe she could shimmy down a little. She tried and got a little traction, but then could move no further, the way her body was lying, slipped slightly off the chair when she’d fallen, put her at a really awkward angle. But she had to keep going.
A whoomph sounded in the lounge room. Crackling followed.
He’d lit the fire. Oh god, he’d lit the fire. If he’d done a complete track of petrol from the kitchen to the front door, it would be rushing towards her right now. She was lying right next to a puddle of petrol. The flames would engulf her and that would be it.
She tried to push her feet against the floor, away from the pool of petrol edging towards her. Tears and sweat stung her eyes along with the petrol fumes. Her lungs felt like they were going to burst, but she couldn’t give up, couldn’t give up.
The door that led into the back of the house opened. Had he come back? Was he going to spill petrol on her? Make sure she burned? She pushed harder, knowing it was useless, that she couldn’t get away, but she couldn’t give up.
Couldn’t give up.
‘Doc.’
‘Cherry?’ She moved her head as far as she could and saw the best sight in the world. Cherry stood there, face pale, blood soaked into her buttercup yellow shirt, a knife protruding from her shoulder, kept in place by a messy looking donut bandage. ‘You’re alive.’
Cherry stumbled over to her, eyes pain hazed. ‘Get you out of here.’ She grabbed a knife from the bench and, almost falling down beside Prita, began to try, one-handed, to cut at the ropes, little whimpering gasps escaping as
