pair of football boots and a racquet with a couple of broken strings. It depressed me to look at them and I guessed they had the same effect on Kevin.
We set off in the Pajero shortly after 6 pm, Jacko and me to attend the meeting and Kevin to meet his mates in the pub. Father and son had had another argument and the atmosphere in the car was chilly. Kevin lolled in the back smoking. I didn’t care but Glen was fiercely anti and I wondered how long the smell would linger.
We passed the Western Holdings gate and began the descent towards the road that led into Carter’s Creek. The light was dimming and I squinted to adjust my eyes to it.
‘Something wrong, Cliff?’
‘No, just getting used to the light.’
I heard a derisive snort from the back seat.
‘Shut up!’ Jacko snapped.
The tension between the two had obviously been building and I hoped it wouldn’t break in my presence. I slowed for a bend. I heard a thump on the roof and thought it was a stone, then a hole appeared in the windshield and I heard a whistling sound and another thump behind me. I swore and swerved and headed for a clump of trees twenty metres ahead. I braked hard and threw up a cloud of dust.
‘Jesus,’ Jacko said. ‘Jesus Christ.’
We’d both been under fire in jeeps in Malaya. We knew what had happened and how close the second shot had come to us.
Jacko turned around. ‘Kev, are you…? Oh God, he’s hit.’
We jumped out and opened the back doors. Kevin lay slumped in his seatbelt. The front of his shirt was dark with blood and a thick trickle of it ran down the vinyl to the floor. His normally tanned face was pale and his eyes were closed.
Jacko climbed in, released the belt catch and lowered Kevin to the seat. He tore the wet shirt open and peeled it back. ‘Thank Christ,’ he said. ‘Shoulder. But he’s losing blood fast. Get going, Cliff. There’s a doctor in town. I’ll try to stop the bleeding. Go!’
I slammed the back doors, got behind the wheel and gunned the motor. My heart was pumping and my eyes watered as dust blew in through the hole in the windshield. I had the Pajero up to top speed within fifty metres and fought to control it on the loose dirt. Ease up, I thought. No point in killing all three of us. I dropped the speed and concentrated on keeping a steady pace.
‘How is he?’
Jacko didn’t answer.
I drove as fast as the road condition, the broken windshield and consideration for Kevin allowed. Jacko used my mobile to call the doctor, who said it sounded as if Kevin would need the helicopter ambulance service.
‘Do it!’ Jacko said.
As I drove I couldn’t help thinking that this took Kevin off my list of suspects. We got to town and Jacko directed me to the doctor’s house. He was waiting with a gurney and we wheeled Kevin inside.
‘How long till the helicopter gets here?’ Jacko asked.
The doctor, a youngish thin man with a beard and a harassed manner, shook his head. ‘Hard to say, Jack. They’ll be as quick as they can. At least the weather’s okay for night flying. Say an hour. Let’s get a good look at him.’
We helped to cut Kevin’s shirt away and remove the pads Jacko had made by ripping up his own shirt.
‘How many gunshot wounds have you dealt with, doctor?’ I asked.
‘This is my first. Stand back and let me clean it.’
The wound was seeping rather than pumping blood but Kevin had lost all colour.
‘Pulse is weak,’ the doctor said.
Jacko pounded his fist against the wall. ‘Jesus, when I find out who did this
‘Don’t forget the shot was probably meant for you or maybe me. Kevin was just unlucky.’
‘The bullet’s still in there,’ the doctor said, talking to himself, ‘along with some metal and fibres from the shirt. That’s a worry.’
Jacko snarled, ‘Can’t you get it out?’
‘This isn’t the movies, Mr Brown.’
He kept cleaning the wound and monitoring Kevin’s pulse. Jacko wiped his son’s face a few times as if he could restore life and colour to it. Kevin looked very young.
We heard the beat of propellers outside and Jacko muttered, ‘Thank Christ.’
We wheeled the gurney out and the paramedics took over. They lifted Kevin into the helicopter and began working on him. Jacko hovered, asking questions and swearing when he got no answers. Eventually one of the paramedics broke away and beckoned him.
‘Better come with us, mate.’
‘How the fuck is he?’
‘Blood loss and shock but he’s young and strong. Good chance, I reckon. Let’s go.’
Jacko climbed in without a backward glance and the helicopter lifted off, leaving me standing with the doctor beside the empty blood-smeared gurney.
‘Thanks, doctor,’ I said. ‘Where’s the base?’
‘Cobar. Won’t take long. He should be all right. I’ll have to report a gunshot wound. Can you give me the details? It’s Hardy, isn’t it?’
‘That’s right, but your report’ll have to wait.’
I pulled up outside the school where a group of people, men and women, were milling about. Some were smoking, all looked impatient. I’d met a few of them in my snooping about but most of them were unknown to me. One of the men I’d spoken to in the pub along with Ted Firth approached me.
‘What’s up?’
I told him and the news passed around and they pressed closer to get more details but they had all I knew very quickly. There was more smoking and clucking of sympathy and shaking of heads and they drifted away. I wondered who, if anyone, was missing. Running out of likely suspects, I was beginning to wonder about Jacko’s supposed friends, but there was no one to ask. I went back to my car and opened the door. The interior light came on and I noticed a mark in the upholstery of the back seat. I opened the back door and leaned in, trying to make sure I didn’t get blood on me. There was a hole in the backrest about dead centre and a couple of centimetres from the top. I probed it and scooped out a bullet. It had to be the shot that had broken the windshield and passed between Jacko and me. I examined it under the light. I’m no expert but it looked to be a different calibre again from the bullets that had killed Jacko’s horse and sheep.
‘Hey, you. Arsehole!’
I put the bullet in my pocket and spun around. Big Jimmy was coming towards me from the school. He walked steadily, not drunk this time, and he carried a short length of heavy chain.
‘I’ve been lookin forward to meeting you again, mate,’ he growled.
He jumped closer before I could speak and swung the chain. It missed me fractionally and clattered against the Pajero. The repairs to Glens car were going to cost me a bundle. I backed away and he came at me again, swinging. The chain passed over my head as I ducked low. I felt something under my hand and picked it up-a rusted, broken star picket. Jimmy came on fast and swung straight. I raised the stake and the chain wrapped around it. Jimmy grunted, hung onto the chain and lurched towards me, off balance. I braced myself and drove forward. Jimmy’s grip slackened and I hammered him high on the chest with the stake.
He went down and I straddled him with the stake pressed across his throat.
‘Give it away, Jimmy. You’re an amateur. With me it’s a job.’
He swore a few times and I increased the pressure. ‘I haven’t got time to waste on you,’ I said. ‘Might interest you to know your mate Kevin’s on his way to hospital with a bullet in him.’
All resistance went out of him. ‘What? What d’you mean?’
I was getting tired of squatting and pressing so I eased up and away. ‘What I said. Someone shot at us coming in. Kevin got hit.’
He shook his head and climbed slowly to his feet. I was still holding the stake and chain but there was no fight in him now and I dropped them.
