Vanished by James Delargy (free novel 24 TXT) 📕

‘Did you let other people know where she was?’

His mouth opened wide, the accusation freezing him like a wax model. The 2019 Condemned Man Collection.

Then his head shook furiously. ‘No one.’

‘Not even Brightside Foods?’

‘I told them there was nothing more I could do.’

‘And how did they react? What did they do?’

‘As far as I’m aware, nothing. And that’s the truth.’

‘That seems to be in short supply these days,’ said Emmaline.

66

Lorcan

The crash woke them all. It sounded as if, instead of coming down the chimney on Christmas night, Santa had blown a hole in the wall.

Lorcan knew what it was immediately. An attack. The miners had waited until they were asleep and defenceless. But he was prepared. Jumping out of bed, he reached up into the eaves and grabbed the rifle. Fully loaded.

‘Dylan’s room,’ he ordered Naiyana who was staring at the rifle.

She didn’t move so he grabbed her arm. Meeting a wailing Dylan at the doorway, he pushed them both inside and slid the camp bed across the door.

‘What is—?’ started Naiyana.

‘They are trying to—’ He stopped there. No need to say any more. Not with Dylan in the room. There was a crack from inside the house. A gunshot. He knocked the safety off the rifle. It was time to hope it worked, and that he’d know how to use it. This was it. The end of the world.

Resting the rifle on top of the overturned bed, he waited for one of the bastards to come into view. And aim for what? The head? A limb? Having the rifle was both bane and saviour. It meant he could defend his family but it also meant he might be forced to use it.

His finger grew slick on the trigger. No one came into view. After a minute he wondered if they’d doubled back and were tracking around the house to the window. He and his family would be fish in a barrel.

‘The truck,’ he whispered, waving them across the room, dragging Nee who dragged Dylan, like a human chain. Sliding the bed away, he advanced down the hallway, the rifle barrel jolting up and down. Get to the truck and get away. Keep going until they ran out of gas or road.

They passed the entrance to the kitchen. They were close to the front door now. The keys were in his pocket. Safe.

‘Wait!’ cried Naiyana, stopping suddenly, acting like an anchor.

‘We have to go,’ said Lorcan, trying to pull her and Dylan with him.

‘The kitchen,’ she said, pointing.

He glanced towards the kitchen. Shards of brick and a new piece of tin were scattered across the floor. What had happened became apparent. The new part of the gable wall had collapsed taking the sheet from the roof. They were not under attack from the miners but their own house.

He didn’t know where it came from but he started to laugh, releasing a swathe of pent-up nervous energy. Still the laughter came, a roar that filled the now broken house.

67

Naiyana

Her husband’s laughter had disappeared by mid-morning. Christmas Day in a shattered house was not the plan. Daylight exposed the full extent of the damage. The repaired gable was missing and the hole in the roof had reappeared. All his work ruined. All her work in the kitchen ruined. Back to square one.

First off they tried to placate an upset Dylan with Christmas presents. More miniature industrial machinery for his mining operation. But what he now hankered for was a gun just like his father’s. It was back in the eaves, ready for the next home invasion.

As they both studied the kitchen, she asked, ‘Where did you get it?’

‘From a guy in town. I thought we might need it. To shoot animals.’

‘Or ourselves,’ she said, nauseous at her own morbid humour.

‘It’s even more important now. What we have is a symbiotic relationship with those men. They said it themselves. But we are the lowest rung. They have the money. They have the numbers. And we have Dylan to think of.’

‘No. Get rid of it.’ She didn’t need any ‘accidents’. And didn’t need Dylan getting his hands on it.

‘You’re not listening,’ he said.

‘You’re not listening.’

‘I am. If you insist we stay here and make a go of it then I’m keeping the gun. Marriage is all about compromise.’

It was about love and respect as well, but she said nothing. She would let him have this minor victory.

‘I’m going into town,’ she said.

‘Again?’

‘I want a Christmas dinner and I can’t cook in there. I’ll see if anywhere is open. So get to work fixing that mess or get writing that book. Make some money.’

‘I will.’

‘Don’t tell me, show me.’

‘Dad said he can help out,’ he said glancing away, obviously embarrassed. ‘Until my other plans come through.’

Naiyana narrowed her eyes. She wondered what these plans involved. But at present, she didn’t have the willpower to listen.

‘They want to visit,’ he added.

‘Your parents? Here?’

‘Yeah. Tomorrow. Boxing Day.’

‘Why?’

‘I think they’re worried about us.’

‘You mean, they want to stick their nose in.’

‘That’s not—’ whined Lorcan.

‘I think you better tell Ian and that lot. Warn them to stay out of sight,’ said Naiyana, heading out the door towards the ute.

68

Emmaline

Checks confirmed that Chester Grant did have a meeting on the thirtieth with Kilbourne Associates. A quick call confirmed his attendance, proving he was back in Perth by late afternoon. Greg Kilbourne had plenty of questions about why the police were requesting these details. Emmaline didn’t answer, but the questions would have left the clear outline of a smoking gun. What she did learn was that Chester had no chance to get out to Kallayee itself, do anything untoward and get back in time to attend the meeting. Although killing Naiyana made sense. She held a lot of damaging information on him. Information that might ruin a career he held dear. With Lorcan and possibly Dylan Maguire caught up in it as witnesses.

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