Marked (13 page)

“Break!” The ref came to my rescue. “Break!”

The pounding stopped with a final vicious jab at my upper arm.

“Step apart.”

I eased myself out from the ropes and backed away. So did Burger. The plastic grin had reappeared and his eyes seemed strangely bright. Almost glittering. I wondered what he was on, but the bell sounded and the round was over.

Back in my corner I sank onto the stool and tried to get my breath back while Mr Parton wiped the sweat from my upper body with a towel. My arms felt numb from the pounding they’d received, but even so, I didn’t feel too bad. I’d landed the only real punch and it was good to see Burger rubbing his side as he sat down.

“That went pretty well.” Mr Parton lifted my chin and checked my eyebrows for damage. “How do you feel?”

“Okay, I guess. Didn’t enjoy that last bit.”

“The clinch? No. Watch out for that. He’ll try it again.” He wiped a damp cloth across my forehead. “One thing though, you’ve been ducking under him every time he throws one at you. He’ll be ready for that now and his second will be giving him plenty of advice. You need to keep him guessing. Use your left more, jabbing. Make him watch it, and then hit him with the right.” Almost as if he’d been listening to Dad.

If Mrs West
was
giving Burger good advice, he was pretty slow taking it on board. The second round was a close copy of the first. I circled and stayed out of range, while Burger turned on the spot with the occasional wild lunge at my head. Each time he let fly, I ducked under him and tried to catch him while he was off balance. I managed to belt him on the ribs twice more – and I thought he was probably hurting. I hoped so because I was starting to sag. The spotlights they’d rigged up felt like radiant heaters, and I was sticky with sweat. It was only the second round.

The bell sounded again and as I stumbled back to my corner I caught sight of Kat. She waved. My lungs were running on empty, my arms were aching and every muscle was screaming for a rest – but suddenly I felt great.

Mr Parton didn’t seem quite so impressed. “You’re too predictable. He’s starting to follow you.” I nodded, trying to get my breath back, and then took a swig from my drink bottle. “But he’s tiring a bit too. Start taking it to him. You’re still not using your left. Move him about a bit.” He punched at the air, quick jabs, demonstrating. “Feint, feint and then hit him with a couple of quick ones.” Exactly what Dad would’ve been telling me, but I was only half-listening. Thinking about Kat. I’d been worried she might’ve slipped away from school. Worried she’d already left town.

The bell sounded. Two rounds down, two to go. I stepped back into the ring, wondering if I could keep this up for another three minutes. But I didn’t have to. Dad was right. A punch on the nose, a splattering of blood, and the referee ended the fight on a technical knockout.

Problem was – it was
my
nose.

I walked right into it. Either Burger got lucky or he’d been listening to Mrs West. The first time I ducked under one of his haymakers, he followed me down and smacked me. Right on the beak.

The ref awarded the fight to Burger, and I stumbled back to my corner, plonking myself on the stool. I was really pissed off with myself, and my nose hurt like hell.

Mr Parton stripped off my gloves and sponged the blood from my face. “I warned you about that,” he said cheerfully. “But it doesn’t look too serious. Pinch your nostrils – it’ll stop the bleeding.” He was still bending over me when his wife appeared – the office beauty queen.

She’d come to see me. “Cully, your dad phoned. He can’t get home tonight. Wants you to ring him back.” She paused, eyeing me doubtfully. “Are you okay with that?”

I nodded.

“Well, you don’t
look
very okay. Thought you’d be too intelligent for this sort of stupidity.” She flung her husband a quick smile and left.

“Boxing’s not her favourite sport.” He grinned apologetically as the referee came across to our corner.

“You put up a really good show out there,” he said, squatting beside me. “How’s the nose?”

“Okay, I think. Just a bit sore. The bleeding’s almost stopped.”

“Good,” he said. “I think he got lucky. If it had gone the full course, I think you’d have won.”

Mrs West smiled over his shoulder. “Probably a good thing it didn’t then.” And she winked. But if the way the fight ended was a good thing, it was the last good thing that happened for quite a while.

“How’s your nose?” asked Kat. “Doesn’t look too bad.”

“Nah, it’s just a bit sore. Needs someone to kiss it better.” I looked at her, carefully keeping a straight face. “Come to think of it, my mouth’s a bit sore too.”

She smiled. “I was being serious.”

“So was I.”

She gave me a jab on the arm, where Burger had pummelled it earlier.

It hurt like hell, and I winced, but even so, it felt wonderful. “A kiss might’ve been better.”

“Sorry. That hurt, didn’t it?”

“No. It’s okay.”

She shook her head, a show of mock sympathy. “Love and tenderness for the wounded – not really my thing. Have to wait till you get home for that.”

I grinned at her. “Fat chance. Dad’s staying over in Auckland. Won’t be back till tomorrow.”

“So how are you going to manage?”

“I’ll be okay. It’s not the first time he’s left me alone. Just as long as Mum never finds out.” A moment’s hesitation, and then I glanced sideways at her. “But what about you? Are you still leaving?”

We were making our way through town towards the ferry, and she was walking head down, staring vacantly at the footpath in front of her. “Yes,” she said at last. “Far as I know.”

“When?”

“I don’t know. Soon. Depends on Kreigler,” Kat answered.

“Kreigler?”

“The guy who’s looking after us. The one you thought was stalking me. Doubt if that’s his real name though.”

“Are you coming back?”

“Don’t know. I’d like to, but it depends.”

“On what?”

“There’s a court case coming up. In Sydney. Maybe when it’s over …” She gave me a hard look, frowning and then shook her head. “I’ve told you heaps too much already. Can’t tell you any more.”

I remembered Jed’s words –
a fine line between looking out for someone and poking your nose into their business
. I took a deep breath and stepped over the line. “Is Blissy really your mother?”

“
What
?” She jolted to a stop, facing me. Her jaw dropped and her eyes sharpened with anger. Or maybe fear. “How’d you …? Who’s …?”

I reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, but she pulled away. “It’s just that Jed said he saw a photo … of you … and it looked like a family shot. With your parents.”

“Bloody Jed! He’s been going through my things, the pervy bastard. That album was hidden in my drawer. I’ll kill him!”

I thought she was going to bolt, but this time I managed to get a hand on her above the elbow. She jerked away, trying to free herself.

“Don’t take it out on Jed,” I said. “He was fixing the plumbing or something. Had to move your stuff around to get at it. And he’s worried about you. Only wants to help.”

“Yeah right,” she muttered. “Why the hell can’t people mind their own business? That stuff was well out of sight.”

“Jed’s not like that. He’s only–”

“Yeah?” She cut me off, and I could feel her shaking. “Maybe that’s the kind of thing that got him kicked out of teaching.”

I stared at her. “You know about that?”

“I know he got kicked out of teaching. Everyone does.”

“But you don’t know why?”

She paused then shook her head slowly. “No, not really.”

“Well, I don’t think he’s like that. And I reckon you can trust him. He’s not going to tell anyone about that photo.”

“He told
you
.”

“That’s different. He’s not gonna tell anyone else.” I braced myself. “But was he right? About your parents in the photo?”

She lifted her head, glaring at me. “Look, this hasn’t anything to do with you. And I’ve already–” A heavy truck rumbled past, behind me, and she stopped. Her eyes moved with the sound, her body frozen, all the fire gone out of it.

I turned to follow her gaze. It was a tow truck, an ordinary one, but lashed to the deck was a burnt-out wreck. A Toyota, heavily blackened with some of its windows blown out. Once it had been grey. Dark grey. I couldn’t see all the numbers on the licence plate, but it began with BBC. The last time I’d seen that Toyota, Bullyboy had been driving it down the track behind Kat’s place.

Kat recognised it too. She pulled away from me and sagged into the shop doorway behind her. It was vacant, with “For Lease” signs plastered over the windows. She looked terrible and I thought she was going to throw up, but she didn’t. “That’s … that’s Kreigler’s …”

“I know. Come on. Let’s get out of here.” I grabbed her by the arm and half-dragged, half-carried her along the street to an alley running down to a vacant lot at the back. It had a strip of lawn along one side with plantings of shrubs, and I pulled her into it, away from curious eyes. When I lowered her to the ground, she slumped against the fence. Her head hung between her knees, her bag on the grass beside her.

It was starting to make sense to me. Horrible sense. We’d heard the sirens earlier and word was there’d been a fatal crash on the road to Tairua. Now we knew who had died.

Kat still hadn’t said anything. She lifted herself onto her knees, leaned forwards and began retching. Nothing came up except for a few strands of mucus, but she couldn’t stop. Coughing, gagging, almost as if she was choking. I rubbed her gently on the back. More to tell her I cared than because I thought it was likely to help.

At last the retching stopped and she sat back, letting the fence take her weight. Her eyes were streaming and a string of spittle hung from her chin. I found a tissue and held it out to her.

“Thanks.” A dull, lifeless murmur and she pressed it hopelessly to her mouth. “Jeez, what’re we going to do?” Her voice was slurred.

“We’re gonna get you home. Where’s Blissy?”

“Blissy?” She was shaking her head, as if she didn’t understand me. Then she realised what I was getting at. “At work I suppose. Better try and ring her.” She reached into her bag, fumbling for her mobile. “She has to spend most of her time on the road. Not much coverage usually.” Punching a few buttons, she listened for a moment and then gave up. Just sat there, chest heaving, clutching the phone with a dazed look on her face.

I reached down and pulled her to her feet. “Come on, let’s get to the ferry.” I picked up her bag.

She took it from me. “That wasn’t an accident, Cully. I’m scared – don’t want to go out there again.” She pointed back the way we’d come. I was feeling much the same way, so I led her further down the alley. We cut through the back of the lot and pushed under the hedge to another driveway. We made it to the foreshore reserve without anyone seeing us and dropped down among some flax bushes not far from the wharf. Had to keep out of sight while we waited for the ferry. We’d make a dash for it as soon as we saw it getting ready to leave.

“Christ. What a mess,” I whispered.

Kat didn’t answer. She was shaking again, and we sat together in silence. When she did speak, her voice was flat and toneless, as if she was talking in her sleep. “Blissy’s not my mum,” she said, staring out across the estuary. “She’s a cousin of Dad’s. Mum’s dead. They killed her. Murdered her. Rigged the car so it crashed and caught fire. They were after Dad, but Mum … She was late for work so she took his car. They killed her instead.” The words faded to nothing and her shoulders shook as she fought to control a sob.

“Hell, I’m sorry.” I could feel her against me, tense and quivering. Fragile, like a stunned bird in your hand when you pick it up. But I was stunned too. I reached out and put my arm around her shoulders. Drew her closer. “That’s awful.” I wanted her to go on, but I couldn’t ask, so we just sat there quietly, huddled together. She was still trembling. The ferry was in sight now, about halfway across the channel, but we didn’t move.

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered. “Kreigler was looking after me, but now he’s gone. They murdered him, just like Mum.”

What the hell could I say? I didn’t understand what was going on. Didn’t know who
they
were, or what they were after. So I gave her the only advice I could. “Jed’ll be at the jetty to pick me up. We have to tell him what’s going on. He might be able to help.”

“Jed?” She shook her head. “Can’t …”

“There’s no one else. Jed’s okay. He’s on your side.”

I felt her shudder. “Kreigler … I hated him. Always trying to stop me doing things.” She seemed to be drifting. “Didn’t want me getting close to anyone. Didn’t even want me to have a job. But Blissy thought we’d be safe here – seemed like the back of beyond. I was horrible to him and now he’s dead.”

“We don’t
know
that.”

She gave me a pitying look. “Yes, we do.”

The ferry was nosing against the wharf, letting the tidal current swing it alongside.

“What are they after?” I asked. “These people … what do they want?”

“Me,” she said. “They want
me
. They’re scared of what Dad’s gonna say in court. If they get hold of me, they can threaten him, pressure him to keep his mouth shut.”

“Hell. “ I shook my head numbly. Passengers were already boarding the ferry. “Come on,” I said, pulling her to her feet. “We’ve gotta go – it’s almost ready to leave.”

It was only about fifty metres, but it felt like a full cross-country. I was carrying both bags and for once I was in front, though I could hear Kat just behind me. And for the whole distance I could feel eyes on us – hidden eyes, dangerous eyes, boring into my back. But we made it, leaping aboard just as the ferry was casting off. I glanced around quickly, but most of the other passengers were kids or people I knew by sight. No one was showing any interest in us.

But would I recognise a threat if I saw it?