| |
Nahla scratched at Lexi’s bedroom door. Her claws raked the wood. As Detective Inspector Grunwald crossed the threshold onto the porch, Lexi leaned sideways and twisted the bedroom door handle. It pushed open with a creak as the eager cat flew through the gap. Strobing red and blue police lights turned the bedspread into a 1980s disco dance floor. The elegant street lights cast a triangular glow through the curtains. Their yellow haze picked out a long shape lying on Lexi’s bed. A man. Motionless. His boots hung over the end of the mattress. And then the sclera of wide eyes turned towards her, begging. Appealing.
Grunwald turned to speak to Lexi. His expression grew concerned. Half the Hamilton police force had converged on Drake Street in response to the report of gunshots. Lexi had given scant and wooden details. The cut to her face had accounted for her bloody cheek and shirt. A kind paramedic had butterfly stitched the gash caused by falling on her neighbour’s tow bar.
“Are you sure there’s no one I can call for you, Miss Allen?” Grunwald’s gentle question jarred with the glare of pure hatred from Rojas’ as he paced the path beyond the half open gate. With his fists balled and his shirt untucked from his low hanging jeans, he resembled a sulky teenager. Lexi noticed an odd list to his walk.
“No. Thank you.” She smiled but Grunwald hung around on the porch staring back at her. Slender wrists protruded from the sleeves of his casual jacket. A line of ketchup on one cuff betrayed a man disturbed during his evening meal. Steadiness radiated from his calm, slow movements. She ached to trust him. But taking a casual step backwards, Lexi tugged the bedroom door almost closed in case he lingered further.
Nahla squeaked an objection inside the room and her paws thudded across the rug. The sound changed to a clicking as she padded over the floorboards. She scrabbled at the edge of the door, hauling it ajar. Her pink nose appeared in the gap, her kitty brows drawn into an indignant orange line.
“Call me if you think of anything else?” Grunwald said. He jerked his head upwards to acknowledge the business card he’d left on the kitchen table. “I’ll type up your statement and let you know when it’s available for signing.” He patted the phone in his top pocket. “I have your number.”
“Great.” Lexi shot a nervous glance into the street and Grunwald followed her gaze.
He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Is there a particular reason you denied Senior Sergeant Rojas permission to enter your house?”
Lexi swallowed. She pursed her lips. Rojas had created a terrible scene when she’d stood her ground. A heady blush infused his cheeks and neck as she shamed him before the detective inspector. He’d appeared wrong footed, and fear roiled around him in peculiar, heady waves. Lexi gave a visible shiver. He would make her pay. But she couldn’t lose the image of him standing before Lachlan like a familiar denizen of his mysterious world, and hatred fired like darts from her eyes. “I have good reason,” she conceded, her tone formal and clipped. “But I’m not ready to talk about it.”
Grunwald’s head reared back on his neck. His chin almost vanished into his shirt collar. A dangerous spark lit behind his muddy irises. He tapped two fingers on his temple in a mock salute. “I look forward to the moment you feel able,” he replied. He glanced into the street at the pacing Rojas, a fake smile on his lips. “Have you ever seen an avalanche, Miss Allen?”
The question threw her. She shook her head in response. “No.”
Grunwald’s lips tightened. “It starts with one tiny flake of snow.” He didn’t wait for her to process his remark. His heels clicked on the porch before scrunching along the gravel path. Rojas met him on the pavement and Lexi dived for the internal gate control hidden beneath the door curtain. She jabbed a shaking finger over the button. The heavy metal structure slid across its runner and closed the aperture. Against Rojas. Her father’s deception. And the person who tried to kill her. Against Grunwald, who knew about his corrupt colleague but remained powerless.
The front door slammed with more force than Lexi intended. She activated every bolt and chain before edging her way into her bedroom. She shot a glance at her nightstand and considered retrieving the nearest weapon.
The man on her bed sat up as she entered. A hiss escaped his lips. In his current state, he didn’t appear game for a fight. But Lexi strode to the side containing the night stick, anyway. She reached towards the wide window and drew the curtains closed against the bedlam caused by curious neighbours and the dispersing police vehicles. She overlapped the fabric in the centre and cast the room into darkness. “Close your eyes,” she commanded. Her finger hovered over the lamp switch, mere centimetres away from her night stick.
The white glow blinded her. Sparks and dark spots burst behind her eyelids. But when she looked, the motorbike rider remained on her bed. He hadn’t moved towards her or attempted to flee.
Blood snaked down his right arm in sticky rivulets. He’d removed his black tee shirt and pressed it against his shoulder with white-knuckled fingers. A scarred wrist shielded his eyes from the light, the fingers red-stained. Ridges snaked around the circumference of his wrist, white and raised. Deep, healed gashes left their mark across his torso.
Lexi pressed her fingers against her mouth. Conflict vied in her chest. This man had stalked her from one location to the next. He’d entered her home without an invitation and searched through her private possessions. For what?
But his chin hung low enough to touch his chest. Ragged breaths caused his torso to rise and fall with irregular puffs. Lexi’s teeth bit into her lower lip. Blood speckled her bedspread, the red splotches mingling with the colourful floral tribute. “Okay, how can I help you?” she whispered. “Tell me what to do.”
He lifted his gaze to hers and the fingers of his left hand flexed. The black tee shirt fell into his lap to reveal a cavity running front to back across his upper arm.
“Oh!” Lexi gasped. “That’s a mess.” Her gaze flicked to the many latticed scars across his chest and arms. He’d obviously suffered worse. She blew out a slow breath and assessed the damage visually. Muscle and fatty tissue splayed in a neat arc to reveal white bone. Nausea bubbled into Lexi’s throat and she swallowed her panic. “Let me turn on a brighter light,” she said.
Leaning sideways, she reached for the switch above her bed. The action forced her to straddle the man’s left leg. The chandelier burst to life, spreading segmented light across the walls and ceiling. While withdrawing, Lexi faked an overbalance. She snatched the night stick from between its pegs and dropped it between the pillows behind the man. It rolled out of sight. But guilt infused her as he clasped her hips to stabilise her. Blood oozed from the nasty wound with his deft movement. He didn’t even try to save his injured arm from more pain. Lexi exhaled. Nothing about this man made sense. While she strategised how to bash his brains out with her handiest weapon, he worried about her falling.
Lexi backed away and held up her palms. “I have a first aid box,” she stated. “But I think you need to visit a hospital.”
He winced and shook his head.
Lexi dropped her chin and spoke to him with more concern than fear. “I’m not a nurse,” she soothed. “I don’t know what to do.” When he still didn’t reply, she shifted towards the end of the bed and the open doorway. “Fine. I’ll fetch the box from the kitchen and do my best. But you should know I failed my first aid certificate at school.”
