Lost Girls (26 page)

He walked over
to the car, checking for keys. The keys were nowhere to be seen,
neither in the ignition nor on the seat. He checked the floor lest
they had fallen out. They were not there. He really felt angry
again. She must have taken his car keys to stop him following. It
made sense, she was clever that way, but it made him much
madder.

Well she had
chosen the path he would follow. He would hunt her on foot, like a
wild animal. He would go quickly to get in front and then set an
ambush. His mind went back into predator mode.

Carrying his
rifle, a light but powerful 223, he set off at a jog up the hill by
the shortest route.

He would have
to move fast to catch her before the main road, though even if she
beat him to it he reckoned the odds were still well in her favour
of stopping her or hunting her down. He would take the Kununurra
option as it was closest. He imagined she would go that way,
knowing its proximity; they had talked about that yesterday. She
would be easy to find in a town that size, people remembered
strangers and there were not many travel options on from there
unless one kept hitching.

Even if she
went back the other way he would soon find out from the roadhouses
along the way, the car carrying her would surely stop at either
Timber Creek or the Victoria River Roadhouse to break the 500
kilometre trip. All he needed to do was ring these two places from
Kununurra. He knew their staff; they would let him know if she came
through. Then he could grab a charter plane and be back in
Katherine before her to greet her on her return, just when she
least expected. She had a key to his flat and most of her things
were there. So he was almost sure she would call there to collect
her things. It would wipe the smile of her face if he was sitting
there waiting for her.

All in all he
was confident in his ability to run her to ground and give her a
simple choice whichever way she went, his things back and nothing
further said or else. Surely she was not stupid enough to defy him
if it came to that.

By the time he
had run these options through his head he had reached the top of
the first rise and was breathing hard. He stopped and carefully
surveyed the road below. It wound through the valley and then
crossed a creek before it came around the point of the next low
range which hid his view of the main road. There was no sign of her
down there so he loped down to the road at a jog, cutting it at
right angles. There were here footmarks in the soft bits, the same
flat sandals. It appeared she was pushing herself to go fast, he
saw places where she ran as well as places where she walked.

He needed to
shorten the distance. It would take too long to follow her directly
from behind. He headed cross country to the next hill at a faster
jog, starting to breathe hard. His annoyance with her was rising
for putting him through this; not burning anger but something
colder and more implacable, the hunting crocodile was alive in his
mind.

He came to the
last hill and pushed himself up it, his chest and legs feeling the
strain. He crested the rise, below him the road turned sharply away
from the hill and headed straight for a bitumen strip a bare two
hundred yards in front.

There she was,
a hundred yards in front with another hundred yards until the black
strip. He settled himself, took two deep breaths and called out her
name, loud and clear, “Josie, Stop.”

She turned and
looked back at him, seeming temporarily unsure. He gave her his
best friendly wave, hoping to reassure her, willing her to stop.
But she turned her head away and started to run.

There was a
distant noise; it was a silver car which had crested the rise about
a kilometre away. It was coming fast towards them. Josie had seen
or heard it too. She seemed determined to get to the road in time
to hail it, confident in her girl ability to stop it.

He could see
she was running as fast as she was able, legs and arms flailing.
Now she had a bare 50 yards to go. Twenty yards in front trees hid
her from the main road, past them was open ground in full driver
view.

He brought the
rifle to his shoulder, steadied himself against a tree on the
ridge. His gun was zeroed to this distance. Despite her running it
was an easy shot. Her head and shoulders loomed large in the scope,
trigger pressure. He could stop; let her go, find her another day
if he wanted.

But crocodile
hunting eyes filled his mind; now was his moment to take her, his
prey. He pulled the trigger back.

The car roared
past, unknowing.

He walked to
the place where she lay in the dust, suddenly so small and broken.
He saw the round indent of the entry point where her neck met her
head, through her parted hair.

The crocodile
was gone from his mind. Overwhelming sadness remained as he looked
at this broken body. He picked her up in his arms and walked with
her back to the car, trying not to look at her face. It felt like
he was carrying his little sister, she was so light.

He knew he had
done something terrible, far more terrible than anything before.
Despite her threats he could have let her go; even if she took the
all his precious stones and diary and vanished it did not need to
come to this.

But he had
chosen to make it so. In that moment he knew a last shred of his
humanity was gone and all that remained was his crocodile soul.

He buried her
deep in a sand drift down on the edge of the desert, 300 miles
south, after an all night drive.

It was just as
the sun was rising. This was a special place for him. Rain had made
this patch of desert into a carpet of flowers. He picked them by
the armful and laid them over the disturbed sand. He knew she loved
flowers for their beauty, she was always bringing them to his flat,
to brighten it, she would say they were one of Gods most beautiful
things.

They would wilt
and shrivel in a day or two like her body already was. But it was
the kindest thing he could think of to do for her. He hoped her
soul would find a happier place than his in whatever existence
followed.

He could not
seek her forgiveness, it was past that time.

Two days later
he came to the Top Springs Hotel. He was not the crying type but
decided to drink a rum or two and remember her as he had liked her
best, that street urchin he found in Sydney.

He was joined
at the bar by others, the drinks passed around in good humour,
beers with rum chasers.

A loudmouth
from her home town joined in, a man who always talked about how it
was better down there. Mark had seen him a few times before when he
was in the company of other girls, ones who had gone on their own
way. He had also been there that lunch time when he and Josie
passed through, a bare week before. There was something resentful
in this bloke’s manner, as if her begrudged Mark’s success with the
girls.

This man
decided to make a joke at Mark’s expense. “How is it you are always
with a fresh girl? Why do you keep changing them? What do you do,
root them, shoot them and chuck them in a hole?”

This man
laughed at his own joke and looked around, expecting to have his
audience join in. There was silence.

Mark picked up
his drink and flung it in this man’s face. The killing rage was
burning in his mind, he could barely contain it. He spoke in a
measured voice through gritted teeth. “If you ever say something
like that again I will kill you. If you think you are a hero, meet
me outside.”

He walked out
the door leaving silence behind him.

Now he could
hear raised voices. He waited at the edge of the light. A minute
passed; the talking ceased.

The door swung
open and this man stumbled out. The man’s eyes found his as he
swore and cursed him. “Can’t take a joke, no one treats me like
that and gets away with it. I will teach you some manners.”

Mark put his
hands in his pockets, taking a fist full of coins in each. As the
man came close he hit him twice with each hand, a left and right to
the body and then as he bent forward a left and right to the face.
All the power of his rage went through to his fists

The man
crumpled to the ground with barely a sound.

Mark walked
over to his car and drove away.

Amanda could
barely remember her father from when she was little. But she did
have a couple magical memories of when it was just her and her Dad
alone, when her Mum was away somewhere. When her Mum was at home
she bossed her Dad relentlessly and one day her Dad had enough and
just walked out of the house and was not seen again for years.

Then her Mum
turned to trying to boss Amanda and this worked for a while until
one day she had enough. So she packed her bag and left home, just
like her father had. The police picked her up and brought her home
two days later, an eleven year old walking the streets of Newark,
with almost no money left.

After that she
and her Mum lived out the rest of her school years in an uneasy
truce, her Mum largely left her alone and did not push too hard as
she realised this was one person she could not control with her
voice and empty threats. It was like it had been a battle of wills
and she had bent her mother’s will to her own, using her mother’s
fear of losing her.

From that
Amanda had learned her own life lesson, if you did what you wanted,
even if others did not like it, they were largely powerless to stop
you.

So now, by the
start of University, she had perfected this technique and used it
to get what she wanted almost all the time. She knew she had a
really pretty face and a good body. That helped too, but most came
from being clear and determined in getting what you wanted.

Still it was
amazing what you could get people to do for you with promises based
on that physical thing, even if you did not carry them through,
though at least sometimes you needed to. She supposed most people
would call her selfish and self centred, but really it was just
making the best of your opportunities, because if you didn’t no one
else would help you, that was her life experience at the age of
nineteen.

Amanda was a
bright girl who got good marks with little effort so when she
completed school she had a choice of local Universities and
colleges as well as some New York options. In the end she accepted
a place in her home town campus, not because she really loved the
place but because here she was a bigger fish in a smaller pond with
more opportunities for advancement. She knew in New York the
competition to get to the top would be much tougher. First and
foremost she wanted success without excessive effort.

Amanda cruised
through her first year of University doing almost no work but
enjoying the social life. Somehow she passed all her exams, just!
She got no credits, just a bare pass grade average. In second year
it slowly dawned on her that her status was on the slide, all the
boys she knew had a new crop of fresh faced students to focus on
and she did not have good enough marks for any special
privileges.

She also found
that some of the courses she had wanted to do this year were not
open to her. They required credit grades in last years’ subjects’
for acceptance. Added to this her money was tight.

Last year her
father, weak and useless man that he was, had come back into her
life. He had done well for himself in the last decade since he
disappeared, when he returned he had a well paying job.

So she worked
herself into his good books as a dutiful daughter, charming him
with a mixture of her vivacity and his guilt for years of
abandonment. It worked so well that he had even taken her on a
shopping trip to Paris and had given her the money to buy lots of
nice clothes.

Then he gave
her a generous living allowance for her first year in University
along with paying the expensive course fees.

However as the
year ended so too his fortunes were on the slide; his work was
based on commissions and the work volume was way down. With this
down went his pay. To allow her continue her second year he just
managed to cover the course fees, but there was nothing left for
her to live on. Her mother came up with a little bit of money to
help with her living costs. But the total was a poverty allowance,
enough for a shabby room and to buy basic food to cook but nothing
left to meet her social aspirations as a good time girl.

She supposed
she could move back home. It was across the other side of the city
and even more drab and boring than where she lived. She was not yet
desperate enough for that.

Amanda thought
about how she could improve her situation. She realised she would
have to reinvigorate her effort to charm others at the University.
She wanted to find someone rich and generous to her but who did not
demand much from her in return. She might also have to do a bit
more study this year to get her marks up again, but it would be a
pretty dull year if study was all there was.

She started to
evaluate the options, both among fellow students and the academics
for a generous benefactor, or at least someone who would help with
money if the right pressure was applied.

Some of younger
lecturers were dishy, but they were early in their careers and
still too poor to be of much use. She had yet to discover any
students with super rich parents who were not total dropkicks, so
this seemed not much of an option; many were too childish for her
taste. She had found that older men were generally more rewarding
as companions, they did not just want the sex bit; they had seen
the world and could also hold an interesting conversation. There
were a couple old fart lecturers, who gave her lascivious looks.
But they were too old and doddery for her taste; she was not that
desperate yet.