Wasted Lives, a Detective Mike Bridger novel (24 page)

The strength
went from his legs and the hollow self-hatred returned to his
stomach. He had only ever called him Star when he wanted him…, when
it was time.

"I said in
here Star" the voice was more urgent, more forceful, Martin sensed
a slight desperation in the tone. He had not been in this place for
years now and he did not quite know how to respond. Surely the sick
pervert did not think he was going to get away with it, he was to
physically able to be taken advantage of now. He would not let it
happen, not again.

"Star…? Get
the fuck in here".

Stepping
into the open doorway that led from the hallway to the lounge room,
he saw him sitting there in his chair. Dirty painful memories came
flooding back, memories of the filthy white singlet that sat above
his nakedness while he had knelt at the foot of the chair, holding
the shaft in his small fists to stop it going too far in and
choking him, tears mixing with saliva and bile as he had struggled
to comprehend his reality.

The sight
before him today though made him take a backwards step when he
realised what he was actually looking at, in the place where he
would have found naked vile torment all those years ago sat the
shotgun.

A small sad
smile on his stepfather's lips played out as he looked at Martin
standing in the doorframe. He had one hand on the stock, thumb over
the top and forefinger inside the trigger guard. The other hand was
absently stroking the twin barrels.

“
I
watched you the other morning”, he said, “I saw you hiding that bag
under the tree, it didn’t take much to figure out what was in it
when I saw the news.”

"It was
you..., you killed him didn't you" Martin could not quite
understand why this was happening. "What the fuck did he ever do to
you? You fucking pervert. It should be the other way around; it's
you who should be dead, not Tama."

His stepfather
nodded his head slowly as if agreeing with Martin's angry outburst.
The gun did not move from his lap.

"It was
easy enough, Tama was dumb, a threat. I just sent a text telling
him he was needed for a job and he came right to me; he would have
done that with the police eventually. It had to be that way..., to
protect you...," He looked at the floor as he spoke, "To protect
your mother...," He drew in a deep breath as if admitting something
to himself, "To protect me."

He did not
want any explanations; there would never be a good enough reason to
shoot his friend. He looked at his stepfather, the expression on
his face had not changed, it was as if he just felt a need to
explain and that was all. He looked pathetic sitting there with the
gun on his lap.

Martin
felt no fear from the shotgun; but he hated the way he was feeling
now, and the gun offered a way out. He had not contemplated this
before, but like his innocence, someone else would make this choice
for him. Inside his head at that moment he was a seven years old
again, full of shame and disgust. The realisation that he would
never be free of the memories hit him like a sledgehammer, but this
time he was old enough to know better. He had spent his life living
with a distorted view of the world, trying to keep up the pretence
of being normal in the chaos of other people's lives and he was
tired, too tired to play any games.

"Fuck
you Bill Patterson, do what you have to do", it was the first time
he had spoken his name since his childhood, purging something from
his memory. "I'm fucked in the head anyway thanks to you, you took
my life from me then, so it won't make a hell of a lot of
difference now."

His stepfather
remained sitting but he saw his body tense, the knuckles on his
hands went white. “You’re more like your father than you know
Martin… that’s why I have to do this. It would have happened sooner
or later”.

Martin saw the
shotgun rising up off his stepfather’s lap, a sad faraway look in
his eyes, just as a child lost.

“
I’m
sorry, I thought I could fix it… but I was wrong”

The twin
barrels of the shotgun swung in Martins direction and he braced
himself for the pain, but at the same time, craving the oblivion it
offered.

“
I’m
just a sick man…, please forgive me”.

His stepfather
moved the barrels past where Martin was standing and angled them
upwards, the shortened length making it easy to tuck them neatly
under his own chin.

Looking
directly at Martin, a small tear running down his cheek, he pulled
the trigger.

Martin just
stood there in the midst of the chaos, as the noise of the blast
echoed around the room and then died out to a muffled ringing in
his ears. He crouched down against the wall staring at the mess
before him, he could almost see the sickness soaking into the
threadbare carpet as the blood pooled around his feet. He began to
cry, tears of relief sliding down his cheeks, and suddenly he felt
a huge weight lift off his shoulders as he watched his stepfather’s
body twitch and shudder as the last of his nerves died and became
still.

He closed his
eyes in search of the new world he was to inhabit.

Bridger walked
straight past the front counter at the prison, ignoring the
protesting instructions of the officer behind him about signing
out. If they have no record of me signing in I am not likely to
waste my time signing out, he thought. He heard the officer mumble
something under his breath about Police and attitudes and was about
to turn around and have it out with him about attitudes and his
fellow officers but the sliding door opened in front of him letting
a welcome gust of fresh air into his lungs. The fresh air calmed
him slightly but he wanted to be outside as quickly as possible, to
shake off the feeling of helpless claustrophobia that he had
developed while stuck in that concrete capsule with Joseph
Kingi.

Three hours
was not a very long time, he knew he needed to move fast, as
Joseph’s last words were running through his mind. He hoped her had
made the right decision. Pulling out his phone, standing in the
fresh air he felt his breathing returning to normal, at least he
was now in some sort of control of what happened next. If he was
honest with himself, he had actually felt a little scared. He was
not scared for himself, but for fact that he was unable to do
anything about his predicament. He was scared because he had let
himself get in that situation to easily. What happened in the
prison bought home the fact that he was not in control, he could
not predict the actions of other people and that made them
dangerous, and what was worse, he had inadvertently involved
friends and family.

He dialled a
number into the phone and it answered straight away.

“
Mike?
Where the hell have you been, it’s all turned to custard here, John
and Jo have gone missing, their car has turned up burnt out at
Blackhead and we can’t find them anywhere.”

Not quite the
response he expected from Brian, but it did not surprise him. “I
know, I can’t tell you much at the moment but have you tried the
pad?”

“
Of
course we bloody have, they’re not there Mike, the place was empty
except for Baz Ropata and he’s not saying anything. I saw the
picture you sent Laura, Mike, was that them? And if it was, what do
you know about this?”

Bridger was
starting to get an uneasy feeling; he had been counting on the fact
that the gang were holding John and Jo at the pad. It made sense
that they would be there, it was where the gang held all the power,
it was where Joseph Kingi junior would feel safe, safe enough to do
as he pleased. Where in the hell else could they be?

“
Tell me
what you know Mike, things have got out of hand here, John and Jo
could be in real danger” Brian’s tone was professional but there
was a slight undertone of fear and confusion.

“
The
photo was them Brian, don’t ask me how I know, you’re just going to
have to trust me on this…” Brian’s words registered in his brain
“What do you mean I sent it to Laura?” It was not something he
wanted to share with his wife; she should not have to be involved
in this dirty business. He had always tried to protect her from his
work, trying not to discuss it in too much detail if she had ever
asked. He felt sickened that she would have had to see it. At least
she had the sense to bring it to Brian, he thought. “Never mind
Brian, I’m on my way into town now, I’ll be there as soon as I
can.”

Another
thought crossed his mind “Also do you know the whereabouts of Tama
Wilson’s friend, Martin McLaren?”

There was a
slight pause on the other end of the phone. “Funny you should ask
that Mike, we are on our way to his house right now. What do you
know about it…?” He paused again as if waiting for an answer
Bridger was not about to give. Brian continued, “There has been a
report of gunshots from inside. It is too much of a coincidence, he
has to be involved somehow, and he may even have Jo and John. The
AOS are just setting up their cordons now.”

“
Don’t
do anything until I get there Brian. I need to speak with Martin,”
Bridger pleaded, angry at the fact he could not tell Brian
why.

“
I can’t
control what the AOS do in this situation Mike; you know that, it’s
their show when there are firearms involved.”

Bridger’s mind
was working overtime; if Martin was involved and he did something
stupid then his wife would be in danger. “Brian, where is Laura
now?”

“
After
she left the station I don’t know where she went, Gillian Holler
has gone to track her down.”

“
I’ll
see you as quick as I can.” He cut the connection before Brian
could say anything more and started running for his car.

‘
Thoughts are the shadows of our feelings – always darker,
emptier and simpler’
Bridger didn’t want to let
feelings get in the way of his actions but it was feelings that had
guided his choice for Laura and his colleagues and it was his
actions that would determine the outcome.

Driving his
car at speed out through the large gates and back onto the main
road, the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach started getting
deeper.

“
Throw
that one in the back room…, the one without the roof” Joseph
directed, indicating to the two skinny gang prospects who were
manhandling the still unconscious John Mouller. “Put the other one
in there as well, they can keep each other company.”

“
Maybe
the Vultures will fly in and peck their eyes out” one of them
joked.

“
There’s
no Vultures in Dunedin you thick bastard, it’s not warm enough,
they only live in deserts… like Waiouru, up in the North Island”
the other one said, rolling his eyes at Joseph to include him in
the ridicule.

Joseph just
shook his head. He was sure there were no bloody Vultures in New
Zealand at all. Idiots surround me, he thought. However, he was
starting to feel slightly on edge himself. Things were not going
quite to plan, thanks to Star, and it made him feel inferior. He
hated the fact that he had shown fear in front of him, he felt
stupid and weak. Star was a killer; he had killed his best friend
and that made him dangerous and unpredictable so maybe he was right
to feel fear. Joseph liked to think he would kill to if he had to,
but the truth was he had never crossed that line.

Martin’s
father was a killer as well, that is why he was in jail; he knew
that from what his own father had told him. He wondered if Martin
knew. He had never heard him speak about his father before. He
certainly was not going to tell him what he knew, that would do too
much for Stars reputation and he could not have that.

“
What do
you want to do with this one J man?”

The question
pulled Joseph back from inside his head. He looked at the semi
naked figure of the policewoman, she was standing of her own accord
but two of his dogs were supporting her, her eyes were glazed over
and makeup was running down her cheeks in dark stains. She looked
like a used sex doll.

He found
himself getting slightly aroused at the sight. She was such a
picture of perfection; he had thought that the first time he had
set eyes on her when she had stopped him in that car. That sexy
uniform, the way she had shown fear, and then acquiesced without
saying anything, letting him off with his behaviour, letting him
leave without a word. He knew she wanted him to do that to her, she
wanted him to dominate and control her. Actions always speak louder
than words; it was always the way with woman.

He had tried
to play out those fantasies in every sexual encounter he had had
since that day, always picturing her face, but it was never enough,
none of them looked at him just as she had that day, the girls he
had all had dead eyes with no fear. It was always just going to be
a matter of time, he knew he would come across her again, but she
had given herself willingly today and for that, he was extremely
grateful. Soon he would have her and he would give her what she
wanted, and he would enjoy every bloody thrust.

“
Put her
in there,” he said, indicating the least of the stinking bare
concrete rooms.

He knew he
owed it to his father to carry out his wishes, but if he ended up
having to let them go then he would not have her, and he would most
probably go to jail. His father had not thought this through to its
conclusion; he was stupid like that, which is why he was in
jail.

He had come to
his decision, once his father got what he wanted and the confession
he wanted lodged with the courts. Then he would be free to do as he
pleased with these two, and he could not let them leave, not now he
had come this far.