Tiffany parked in the driveway and fumbled with her keys on her way to the back door. A smile tugged at her lips as she heard the next-door neighbour on the drums again. He’d improved a lot over the last twelve months, and she often had the best intentions to ask him whether he’d played in a band. But life always got in the way.
Walking past the roses next to her bedroom window, she made a mental note to give them some water the next day. Her father always told her that nice front and back yards made up about a third of the property value. She’d laughed at him, but the longer she lived in her own house, the more she appreciated his words.
She inserted the key into the door when someone suddenly appeared out of nowhere, pulling her head backwards. Tiffany’s heart rate spiked, and her head nearly exploded because of the rush of adrenalin through her body, the instant fear, and the shock of the situation she was in. Her instinct told her to fight, but when the tip of a knife touched her throat, barely skimming her skin, she stood still. Frozen.
Cursing Hudson.
And herself for getting involved with him in the first place. Panic raged inside her, fear running rampant through her veins. Her mind was still spinning at the thought that she hadn’t seen or noticed the person in her driveway. He’d come out of nowhere like a ghost in a movie, taking her by surprise.
“Where’s the list?” he asked with a deep voice.
A thousand thoughts rushed through her head, yet none of them of any use. Again, she cursed the hell out of Hudson. He had to be the reason for this. It’d be too much of a coincidence otherwise.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she croaked.
The guy jerked her back by her hair, making it hard for her to swallow.
“Don’t fuck with me.”
The first tear ran down her cheek, and she tried hard to control the spasmodic trembling within her. “Please, you need to give me some kind of hint what you’re after, otherwise we’re not getting anywhere.”
Surprised by her own words and reasoning, she tried to breathe in and out to calm herself. It’d been over a year now since Hudson had beaten her up to the extent that she’d spent three days in hospital. After that, she’d promised herself she’d never be the victim again. Unfortunately, she’d never imagined herself threatened with a knife at her throat.
“What’s on the list? And who would have given it to me?” she rasped.
His snort was vile, his voice held an undertone of cold contempt. “Don’t fuck with me. I saw Hudson coming here.”
“He’s dead.”
Another jerk at her hair made her scream, which resulted in him pressing the knife even harder against her throat.
“Shut up,” he warned her, his breath touching her ears, causing her stomach acid to rise up her throat.
“Here’s how it goes,” he whispered, his voice void of any emotion. “I don’t care what you do or how you do it, but if I don’t have that list by tomorrow, you will join Hudson six feet under.” Yanking her head back again, he threatened, “Understood?”
Not able to move her head, Tiffany croaked a quiet, “Yes.”
The force with which he let go of her head and pushed her away from him was so sudden Tiffany wasn’t able to stop herself from knocking right into the door. The instant pain was so intense it was hard for her to breathe.
With a trembling hand, she inserted the key into the door lock and turned it before rushing inside and slamming it behind her. Tears now flowing in full force, she slid down the wall, not trusting her shaky legs. Yet, as she bowed her head forward, she uttered a string of curses, when a sudden urge made her cover her mouth with her hand. As quick as she was able to, she crawled to the toilet and threw up.
Over and over again until she was dry heaving.
Light-headed, she leaned back, drawing deep breaths through her nose until she was able to feel her heart rate settling. She closed her eyes, trying hard not to faint.
The silence around her weighed heavy on her, the only sound her own breathing. Time stood still, with Tiffany unable to form a thought or move.
After what seemed like hours, she crawled back to her bag and grabbed her mobile and the phone number she was given earlier that day.
With trembling hands, she dialled the number and waited for an answer.
“Hi, it’s Tiffany Cahill here.”
“How can I help you, Miss Cahill?” Sergeant Harris asked.
She wasn’t able to get out a single word, but instead started sobbing uncontrollably.
“What happened?” he demanded.
Her head was aching, her eyes burning, her body shaking, and her mind full of words and details she wanted to tell him.
But no word came across her lips.
Instead, she sobbed even more.
“Tiffany,” he said, his voice low and calming. “Try to answer yes or no.” He paused. “Are you all right?”
The question seemed ridiculous to her, but she croaked, “No.”
“Are you at home?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“Injured?”
She touched her throat but didn’t feel any blood. “No.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Yes.”
He disconnected the call and another wave of relief hit her. Weak and sore, she tried to stand and step-by-step moved to the kitchen where she got herself a glass of water. The cold fluid eased the pain of the acid in the back of her throat, soothed and cooled her parched mouth.
She forced her heavy legs to move and made it to the lounge room where she collapsed onto the sofa. A sense of loneliness spread through her as she picked up the phone, hesitating to call her brother. Hesitating to call Steve.
Another wave of nausea hit her as she realised how much she’d pushed people away over the last year, ending up on the couch alone after being assaulted by a stranger.
She closed her eyes, trying to empty her mind of all the negative thoughts and steady her breathing.
When the doorbell rang a little while later, Tiffany flinched at the shrill sound echoing through the quiet house. A quick glance at the clock told her that it’d been fifteen minutes since she’d called the police. Her shoulders tightened as she stepped to the window and risked a quick peek outside.
It was Sergeant Harris.
Almost dizzy with relief, she headed to the door. Without unhooking the security chain, she slowly opened the door and glanced through the small gap.
“You’re on your own?” she asked.
“Will that be a problem? Senior Constable Jones is off duty.”
Uncertain about letting him in, she was reluctant to open the door any farther.
“Are you alone?”
She nodded.
“Someone you can call? Family?”
“My brother, but I’d rather have a chance to tell him all about it first.”
“Your friend from this morning?”
“He’s pregnant.”
He raised his eyebrow slightly.
“His girl is. Obviously not him.”
He stepped back and pulled out a little notepad. “Okay. Tell me what happened?”
Taken aback by his action, she asked, “Is this putting you in an awkward situation?”
Raising a brow, he asked, “Why?”
She shrugged. “I’m sorry I called you. I came home about an hour ago, parked my car, walked to the back door, and as I was about to go inside, someone came out of nowhere and…”
She choked back a sob, trying hard to remember in detail what had happened. The words, his breath, and his voice were still stored in her head, and she was about to throw up again. As accurately as possible, she recapped the incident.
“Did you get to see him?”
She bit her lip and murmured, “No.”
Again, he raised a brow, questioning her. “Did you say it happened at the back door?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“And you didn’t see him leave?”
Biting the inside of her cheek, she tried to remember that moment. She rubbed her hands over her face, frustrated for not being able to recall more, but also to banish the unwanted emotions and images out of her head. “No, I was focussed on getting into the house.”
He nodded and scribbled another few notes.
“Okay, you can’t call your brother or your friend. Is there anybody else you could stay with tonight?”
The noise of the door chain caught her attention, and she noticed how she’d absentmindedly fidgeted with it. She stared past him when she finally replied, “I can stay with my mum and dad.” Although the thought caused a wave of anxiety within her. How on earth would she explain the whole situation to her parents?
Her relationship with them had never been easy, especially with her father, who’d had different plans for her career. Travelling around Australia hadn’t been his idea of a solid lifestyle. But she’d had fun for three years exploring the beauty of the country, the people, and various opportunities. Fortunately, when she’d come back to start what her father would’ve called a serious life, they’d helped her financially and paid for the deposit on her house. Since then, she’d survived by taking various jobs to pay the mortgage while studying business management. It was one of her parents’ conditions when giving her the money. It’d been several tough years, but she was close to finishing her degree.
She would’ve been even closer if she hadn’t had the hiccup with Hudson.
It’d been since leaving Hudson that her relationship with her parents had improved. Tiffany doubted though, it was good enough for her mother not to freak out when she’d hear about the reason for Tiffany’s overnight stay.
She couldn’t tell her mother the real reason.
Then again, her body would tell the story without her.
A small sigh escaped her lips.
“We have a safe house north of Melbourne. I could try to get you in there?”
Sergeant Harris tried so hard to help her, and suddenly she felt guilty for not letting him into her house.
A safe house? Was that her final choice? Staying in a strange house? With other people, none of them familiar to her?
Then, as she was about to agree to his suggestion, Mat popped into her head.
“Actually, I do know someone I could call.”
“Very good.”
A smile pulled at her lips. She met his gaze and decided to unhook the chain.
“Would you like to come in? I’ll give him a call while you’re here.”
“I appreciate that you feel you can trust me, but considering there’s no female officer with me, I’d rather you give him a call while I wait here.”
Running a hand through her hair, she looked past him again. The idea to call Mat and ask him to come seemed as absurd as rejecting the suggestion to stay in a safe house. She didn’t know Mat, except for the couple of hours she’d spent with him having dinner. Yet, she’d met him and talked to him. Most importantly, though, he was Steve’s friend and had been close to twenty years. That fact should outrank the safe house by miles.
After she’d tossed and turned the ups and downs of calling Mat, she grabbed her phone and the little note with Mat’s phone number from the lounge room. With her hands still shaking, or shaking again at the thought she was about to call her new Kiwi friend again…yet not under the circumstances she’d hoped for.
As she waited for the call to connect, she walked back to the front door with the police officer still waiting patiently.
“Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Tiffany—”
Before she was able to finish the sentence, he interrupted her. “Hang up, darling, I’ll call you right back.”
She stared at the phone when she heard the busy dial tone.
“Not available?”
Before she was able to explain the situation, the phone buzzed, and she pushed the green button without delay.
“Hi,” she answered, well aware that Sergeant Harris was listening.
“I was hoping for…”
“Are you able to come over? There’s a situation here, and I don’t want to trouble my brother or Steve, because…well, because of the situation I shouldn’t tell you.”
“Are you all right?” His concern was obvious, and guilt spread through her for involving him after knowing him for a mere few hours.
He must’ve been tired because his accent was a lot more pronounced than earlier in the evening.
And again the question whether she was all right. No, she wasn’t. She was many things — scared, tired, lonely — but not all right. At that moment, all she wanted to do was curl up in her bed and sleep for as long as it took for everything to go away.
The police and their questions.
The guy with the knife.
The ‘list’.
“Tiffany?”
“No,” she answered at last. “I’ve got the police here again…”
“What’s your address?”
She brushed her hand through her hair as she told Mat where she lived.
“The GPS says thirty minutes.”
“That sounds about right.”
He disconnected, and Tiffany looked up at Harris. “Half an hour.”
He nodded. “I’ll wait in the car until he arrives.”
After exhaling a long breath, she said, “Thank you is not enough, but thanks anyway.”
“You’re very welcome.” He was about to turn when he added, “I will need you to come down to the station again for a statement.” And he walked away, not waiting for any reply.
****
When Mat stepped into the hall, he listened to any noises to check whether Steve and Jessica were still awake. When he spotted no light from underneath their bedroom door, he assumed they were asleep already.
Quietly, he dressed and left a note before heading out to the car, hoping his GPS lady would not lead him on another sight-seeing tour.
It took him about twenty minutes to arrive at Tiffany’s. Twenty long minutes, during which he thought about was he was doing. Why he was driving to a woman’s house he hardly knew. Indeed, he had enjoyed their dinner together. Underneath all her insecurities he’d found her witty and clever. He liked that. He found her attractive, not in a sexy way, but in a way that expressed her personality. Was Steve really the only reason he was helping? Did the fact that she’d been linked to the police and a dead man not ring any alarm bells?
As much as he tossed all the thoughts in his head, he kept coming back to his gut feeling that Tiffany wouldn’t be Steve’s friend if she were trouble. Sure, his friend was no saint, but he’d changed since he’d started going out with Jessica. Even more so, since they moved in together.
There had to be a reason he was the one she’d rung and asked for help after only knowing him for less than a day. And hopefully he was about to find out.
He parked, opened the door, but before he was able to get out someone was already standing next to him.
“Sir? I’m Sergeant Harris. May I ask for your name?”
Stunned and somewhat taken aback, Mat slowly stood, his gaze moving between the front door and the man in front of him.
“Got any identification?” Mat asked carefully.
Harris held up his badge.
“I’m Mat Apanui,” Mat replied, as he retrieved his driver’s license from his wallet. “A friend of Tiffany’s.”
The police officer glanced at the license and nodded. “Ms Cahill was in an unfortunate situation tonight where she was assaulted. She rejected the offer to stay in a safe house tonight. Will you be able to stay with her?”
Mat nodded, confused at all the information thrown at him. Unfortunate situation? Assaulted? Again, he gazed over to the door, but it was still closed. Harris must’ve picked up on his thought.
“I got the idea she puts up a front, but seems very scared.”
Mat agreed inwardly. Yes, that’d been his impression as well.
“Thanks, Senior…” He paused, already forgotten about Harris’ rank, less of disrespect, but circumstantial.
“You’re welcome. And thank you for looking after her.”
They shook hands before Mat lifted his hand with the car keys to lock the car.
“I’ll wait until you’re in the house,” Harris added. “I haven’t seen any movements for the last ten minutes. It wouldn’t surprise me if that adrenaline rush has worn off, leaving her tired or even asleep.”
With his thumb up, Mat turned and headed towards the door when his phone buzzed.
Steve.
“Mate, want to bring me up-to-date with why you’re at Tiffany’s? Didn’t I ask you not to mess with her?”
He wasn’t sure what the emotion was that raged within him. Anger at his friend for accusing him of doing something inappropriate? Confirmation that Tiffany was indeed not only a friend, but also a close friend? Worry about what he was about to find or hear?
“Okay, I’ve got no idea what’s happening here, but Tiffany called me about half an hour ago asking for help. There was some talk about not wanting to worry you or Jessica because of a recent situation. So here I am. Not sure why, but I’m here. So are the police.”
“Fuck.”
“Let me get in and talk to her, and you’ll be the first to know the details.”
“Okay,” Steve replied, his voice still full of concern.
“You look after your girl. I’ve got this one.”
He disconnected the call and realised he’d missed a message. It was from Tiffany telling him about the spare keys for the door. Two minutes later, he’d found the keys and opened the door, finding Tiffany asleep on the couch. She must’ve felt safe enough with the police outside to give in to her exhaustion. With some relief to find her settled, he returned to the door to give the police officer another thumbs up before he closed it.
He walked along the hall to the back to find her bedroom, before seeing the stairs for the loft. Once he was upstairs, he looked for a blanket or duvet. It was a small house, but nicely furnished, old with a mix of new. The kitchen was opposite the lounge room, two small bedrooms at the other end of the house with the laundry almost hidden around the corner. He remembered Tiffany telling him that her parents had helped her buy the house to give her the chance to study.
The loft was tidy and decorated in bright colours. Too bright for him, but he knew there was always a rhyme or reason people did things, even if it was intuitively. It seemed Tiffany wanted to escape some darkness. Her mystery stirred his curiosity, and he hoped to find out more about her before he returned home in a couple of days.
He grabbed the blanket on the bed and went back to the lounge room where he placed it carefully over her. Her eyes shot open, gasping for air, and she pushed against his chest. It took her only a small moment, though, to realise it was him and that she was safe, and she calmed herself with a few deep breaths.
“Sorry,” she croaked.
He touched her hands on his chest and sat next to her. “How about you lie down again?”
Despite of what had happened, and he still didn’t know any particulars about it, it must’ve been too much for her because it didn’t take her long to doze off again.
Going back to the bedroom, he grabbed a spare pillow and another blanket and tried to make himself as comfortable as possible in the single seater next to the couch. He’d had worse accommodations, especially in the huts on top of the mountains around Mt. Cook.
He’d just closed his eyes when he heard Tiffany’s voice. “Thank you for coming.”
It was soft and just above a whisper.
“You’re welcome.”
“I’m surprised you came.”
He opened his eyes and looked at her, but she hadn’t moved and her eyes were still closed.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“You don’t know me.”
“That’s true,” he replied and closed his eyes again.
The silence around them wasn’t what he was used to. He was still able to hear cars in the distance and the occasional airplane departing Melbourne airport or coming in to land. Silence outside Fox Glacier meant no noises except the whistle of the trees and the wildlife around.
Tiffany broke the stillness after a very long moment. “His name was Hudson.”
He didn’t reply, giving her the time she needed.
“He used to be in my classes. I thought he was a good guy. I helped him out occasionally when he lagged in his studies.”
She paused, and Mat wondered whether she thought about his presence in her house after knowing her only for a few hours.
Letting out a subtle laugh, she continued. “Well, at least he was nice when I met him. After a few days of hanging out and the occasional afternoons together when I helped him with assignments, we spent a night together. The next day, I found him in his lounge room, all pale with little pearls of sweat on his forehead. I should’ve left then, but I was never that clever.”
Mat flinched at that statement, and he swallowed, trying hard not to reply. She wasn’t finished yet, with her story.
Tiffany went on. “Nothing hurts more than being rejected.”
He nodded, knowing she didn’t see him. Rejection wasn’t something he had to encounter a lot in his life. After all, his upbringing was within a caring family, money no real issue, and women usually were happy to spend time with him. His nod had been more an acknowledgement of her words. And of her pain.
“He wanted money. I told him I didn’t have any. That was when the trouble started. He got angry, throwing tantrums I’d never seen before. I made the mistake of laughing, and that was when he lashed out at me, striking me hard with his fist. I can still remember the noise of my cheekbone breaking. It was horrible. When I saw him about to swing another one, I covered my face, but he didn’t stop.”
His eyes shot open and his heart sank when he heard a sob. Taking a deep breath, he willed himself not to move.
“I’m okay,” she assured him, as she met his gaze. How long had she been looking at him?
“I’m not sure what was worse, the pain or the realisation of how low I had sunk ending up with a drug addict. The blows were mostly aimed at my face. I wasn’t able to focus. My head was dizzy and foggy. In hindsight, raising my hands to block more was out of instinct than anything else.” She shrugged. “It didn’t stop him, though. Another hit, and the next thing I remember, I woke up in hospital.”
He closed his eyes, processing that last sentence and trying not to walk over to take her into his arms, never to let go again. It was hard to find the right words, and he wasn’t sure whether his were anywhere near good enough for what she’d gone through. But he hoped. “Yet, you got up again and seem to be stronger than before.”
A bubble of laughter surfaced from her, and she seemed as surprised as he was. He’d liked the sound, though.
“Stronger might be a tad exaggerated, but I’m getting there. I’m finding ground under my feet one day at a time.”
He opened his eyes and studied her as she stared at the ceiling. Her short hair was a mess, her eyes puffy and red, her skin blotchy, yet he felt his stomach tighten as he recognised those imperfections were what drew him to her.
And now Hudson was dead.
Mat lounged farther back into the seat, trying to piece the puzzle together. He raked a hand through his hair, about to ask about the assault tonight, but when he saw Tiffany’s eyes close and heard a soft snore, he knew he’d have to postpone his question until the morning.
He closed his eyes as well, pondering all the questions in his head. How much danger was she in?