The moment the detectives left, Kate collapsed, her tough persona crumbling. Her fingers shook and silent tears ran streaks down her face as she fastened the lock on the door. Absently she moved around the small house checking everything was locked. When she reached Rowdy’s room she closed the window that still stood wide open and slid the lock into place.
Bloody Sandy. What had she been thinking?
A wave of anger, quickly followed by fear, erupted in the pit of her stomach. She was all alone and she was scared.
The baby kicked and she rested a protective hand on her stomach, rubbing it gently as though soothing her unborn child, reassuring it everything would be okay. But would it? She walked back to the kitchen and reached for the phone on the wall. Cradling it to her ear, she listened to the repetitive hum of the dial tone. She should ring Rex. He was going to be furious when he found out Sandy had jumped out the bedroom window when the cops were here. It made them look guilty, as though they had something or someone to hide. Kate had simply thought to warn Sandy so that she could be prepared for being questioned by the police; she hadn’t expected her to do a runner. Did she think the police would tell her father the truth about her relationship with Rowdy? Was she on the run? Was there a warrant out on her or was she just looking for an excuse to go out and score?
Kate replaced the phone handset. Rex had told her never to speak on the phone and he would be seriously pissed off if she called him for something so stupid as feeling a bit scared. He was ultra-paranoid the cops were always listening in. Though she had to admit, he was smart when it came to police stuff. He knew a lot about how they worked; could almost predict what they were about to do before they did it.
But he hadn’t seen the raid on the clubhouse coming. And even though she suspected Rex thought that idiot Maggot was responsible for planting the drugs, he wouldn’t talk about it with her. He kept telling her it was not for her to worry about, that she needed to concentrate on looking after herself and the baby. That was one of the things she loved about Rex. He always took care of her.
Kate made herself another cup of tea. She wished she could have something stronger – like a shot of whiskey, scotch . . . anything. Sipping on her tea, she watched the steam rise out of the mug. Strange how even after two years together, there were many things about Rex she still didn’t know. He had told her it was better for her that way. And she’d agreed. Besides, what else did she really need to know other than that Rex loved her?
Kate hoped their baby would help heal his wounded heart, help him get over his resentment towards the woman who had robbed him of his first child. God, she hated her.
Like Rex, Kate had lived with heartache. Having her parents desert her, then being thrown into one foster home after the other, she’d done it tough as a kid. And although it was too late to fix her past, nothing and no one was going to ruin her future, their future. She would never be alone again. They would build their own family, get married, have more babies, and live happily ever after.
Downing some headache tablets, she lit a smoke. She didn’t really want it but she didn’t know what else to do. Her brain hurt, her body was exhausted yet she knew there was no way she’d be able to sleep. Her head was filled with images: Bluey on the floor, blood everywhere, people yelling. She felt the sob rise in her throat and the tears burn the back of her eyes. How could she have any tears left to cry? She held her breath, holding the current of emotion at bay for as long as she could.
It was no use. Her breath came out like a choked cry and her head fell to her hands as she gave in.
What would have happened last night if she hadn’t gone to get cigarettes, she wondered. Would Bluey be dead? Would she? She didn’t want to be alone at a time like this. What if whoever killed Bluey decided to turn up here? Her mind spun with random, illogical notions she couldn’t control. Rex should be here with her, she thought, suddenly angry again. This was quickly followed by a twinge of guilt and she cursed herself for being so selfish. Bluey was dead and all she could do was feel sorry for herself. Self-disgust made her want to gag.
She had thought herself to be so much tougher, but since last night, since seeing Bluey lying there . . . God, she hadn’t even had the courage to help him. She was too gutless to even go inside and stay with him. How pathetic. And now she was so full of self-loathing she could hardly stand herself or control her emotions. Who was she kidding? She couldn’t control herself at all. It was embarrassing, undignified. Kate couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried and now she couldn’t stop.
Then it hit her. She wasn’t crying just for Bluey. She was crying for everything: the parents she had never known; her unborn baby; her fears; her insecurities; every injustice that had struck her a blow throughout her sad little life was now coming out in a deluge of resentment and self-pity.
Where are you, Rex? I don’t want to be alone.