40

Jodie knew now what it was like to be Kane. Knew how it felt to want to hurt someone. She wanted to make Kane scream in agony. Wanted him to feel trapped and terrified and in fear of his life. And she wanted to watch him to the end, until he couldn’t take another breath. Until he got what he deserved.

She nestled the rifle into her shoulder, glad of the hours she’d spent at the gun club in the first years after Angie died.

‘I made you bleed, tough bitch.’ Kane stood on the edge of the hole, hands loosely at his sides, grinning through the blood on his face like he’d scored some kind of prize.

The rage was a wild animal inside her. It beat against her ribs, clawed at her belly, bellowed in her head. ‘Shut up.’

‘One second longer and your blood would’ve been gushing all over me.’

‘Shut the fuck up.’

‘I could’ve taken a swim in it.’

Jodie moved her finger to the rifle’s trigger.

‘Jodie!’

It was Matt. Still in the hole. She’d thought he was dead. Thought she’d lost him before she even had him.

‘Help me up, Jodie,’ Matt said.

Without taking her eyes off Kane, she dropped one hand from the rifle, leaned down, grasped Matt’s as he hauled himself into the lounge room. When he let go, her hand was sticky with his blood.

Kane had made him bleed. She looked into the bastard’s freaky, pale eyes, saw the arrogance and cruelty inside them.

‘Give me the gun,’ Matt said.

‘No,’ she said. ‘Move,’ she told Kane. ‘To the door.’

She stayed on his heels as he walked to the front door. Matt was at her side all the way, edgy, looking like he wasn’t sure who he should be covering – her or Kane. As far as Jodie was concerned, it was an each-way bet who was more dangerous right now.

Kane put a hand on the doorjamb, squinted in the brilliant light from his car, looked back at her with a sly grin. ‘You ever used a gun like that before? The recoil will break your shoulder before you hit anything.’

Jodie pointed the gun at his thigh. ‘You want to try me again?’ She smiled at the uncertainty in his eyes. ‘Move. Out the door.’

The spotlight blinded her as they stepped outside. She couldn’t see anything beyond the front steps. She glanced both ways down the verandah, felt the rage gather strength when she didn’t see what she was looking for.

‘Louise?’ she shouted. ‘Hannah? Corrine?’ She swung accusing eyes on Matt. ‘Where are they? You said you got them. Where are they, Matt?’

‘I took Louise and Hannah into the bush. They’re safe. Give me the gun.’

‘Where’s Travis?’ she demanded. She’d thought he was dead but she’d thought Matt was, too.

‘Jodie.’

‘You said he was out here!’ she yelled at him. ‘Where the hell is he?’ She shoved Kane with the muzzle of the gun, pushed him towards the steps. ‘You better start praying I see your brother out here or I’m going to make you scream until he shows himself.’

Kane cupped his mouth with one hand, lifted his voice. ‘Hey, bro, where are you?’ He made like he was shocked, like he hadn’t already pulled a trigger. ‘Wiseman killed him. He fucking killed my brother.’

She pointed the gun at Kane’s face. ‘Good.’

‘Give me the gun, Jodie.’ Matt pulled on her shoulder as she moved towards the top step.

She shoved him off, pushed Kane ahead of her as she stormed down the stairs. ‘Where? Where’s Travis?’ Then she saw him, in the dim reflected light behind the beam of the spots, on his back, arms spread wide, blood staining the gravel around his head.

There was a sudden flash of movement beside her. She turned, saw Kane make a move towards her, saw Matt dive at him, swing an elbow into his ribs. Kane doubled over, gasping in pain, making hoarse sucking sounds as he tried to breathe in.

‘Get on the ground,’ she shouted at him. ‘On your knees. Hands behind your head.’ She watched and smiled in brutal satisfaction at his pain.

Matt was in pain, too. She could see him clutching his upper arm. Fresh blood was oozing out of a makeshift bandage, starting to run down his arm.

Kane had shot Matt. He’d held a gun to Corrine’s head. He’d locked up her friends.

She felt again the press of the knife he’d held to her throat. The wild thing inside her beat itself against her ribs.

‘This was my place for the weekend. You chose the wrong weekend to come here.’

She walked to Kane, put her foot on his chest, pushed him. He screamed, grabbed at his bloody thigh as he fell to his back.

She stepped over him, aimed the muzzle of the gun at his face.

‘You cut me.’

‘Felt good, didn’t it, bitch?’

Blood roared in her head.

‘You cut me.’

‘No, Jodie.’ She could hear the pain in Matt’s voice. It made her fingers tingle with the urge to pull the trigger.

‘Do it, bitch,’ Kane said.

She nestled the gun tighter into her shoulder, looked at Kane’s ugly, bloodied face along its length.

Matt moved into the edge of her vision, on the other side of Kane. ‘It won’t change it, Jodie. Killing him won’t undo what he’s done.’

‘He cut me.’

‘I know what it’s like to want revenge, Jodie.’

‘Shut up, Matt. Just shut up.’

Kane suddenly reached up, grabbed the end of the rifle with both hands.

Jodie flinched, almost pulled the trigger.

He yanked on the gun. He was angry now, agitated, holding the weapon with tight fists. ‘Come on, tough bitch. Do it.’

She wanted to. Her finger was on the trigger. One squeeze and Kane Anderson wouldn’t hurt anyone ever again.

He wanted it, too. He wasn’t playing her. She could see it in his eyes. He wanted her to pull the trigger. He wanted to die.

And that’s what made her hesitate.

‘Come on,’ he yelled.

She smiled down at him. ‘How bad do you want it?’

‘Fuck you.’

She lowered her eye to the rifle sight.

‘Jodie,’ Matt said quietly.

‘No,’ she answered.

‘Just letting you know if you shoot him from there, you’ll get his brains all over you.’

Matt’s unexpected, casual, shootin’ the breeze tone of voice shifted something in the haze of her rage. She got a picture of it then. Not of the violent, appalling act she was about to commit. But a sudden, gruesome, Technicolor image of Kane’s brain matter splattered over her jeans. She saw herself trying to get out of her clothes with his thick gore clinging to her. She smelled it, felt it warm and slippery on her skin. And knew she would never escape that. She would see it every time she closed her eyes. Like she saw her own blood when she looked at her scars, heard Angie’s screams in her sleep. She would never be free of Kane.

She swept the gun over her head and fired into the night. As the crack and boom ricocheted and rolled around the valley, she lowered the rifle and slammed the butt into Kane’s head.