Cicadas screamed at Jerome as he trod gingerly along the newly mown grass behind his neighbours' houses.
21
Jamaal's head pounded. He'd been out of the hospital less than an hour. The doctors had told him to rest for a week, but he went where he was told by Sebastian. For now. He had just to pick up some money from one of Sebastian's clients, drop off a video to another, and he could go home. He thought of his fat wife and daughters waiting there, and decided instead to play some cards when he'd finished for the day. He consoled himself with revenge fantasies directed towards the person who'd almost cracked his skull last week. He felt himself grow hard as he replayed the violent images in his mind.
'Can't you close your mouth when you eat?' Jamaal Mahmoud hissed, staring at his dining companion in disgust. He stood up from the plastic table, pushing his half-finished meal away from him. Other than the two of them and an ageing man behind the counter, the cafe was empty.
'Where are you going? I'm not finished yet,' whined the thin man, still at the table, but standing anyway, shovelling food into his mouth in resignation. 'Why you always gotta be in such a hurry, Jamaal?'
Jamaal kept his hands by his sides, felt his fists clench. He imagined grabbing this junkie by the hair and cracking his face into the corner of the table. He couldn't stand the way addicts talked, as if they were always begging forgiveness. He stared at the table rather than at the gaol-drawn, ink tattoos on the man's hands and face. He couldn't keep the snarl from his face however, and his companion, noticing his eyes on the diner's cutlery, moved faster.
Why does Sebastian make me ride with these low-life scum? thought Jamaal, stalking from the table out to the carpark. A young couple, walking together towards the diner, wordlessly parted to allow him to walk between them.
The sun was setting on Parramatta Road, but the streetlights hadn't yet clicked on. Peak hour was dying down, but there were still plenty of cars driving west, home from work. Jamaal climbed up into the driver's seat of the Ford Transit van, his face dark with anger. Sebastian has a Mercedes, a Range Rover and a Lexus, he thought, and he gives me this shit to drive while I do his bidding.
He watched the junkie walking towards him, watched him struggling with his skinny arms to pull himself up into the van, concentrating, like it was hard work. Sebastian had insisted this guy come along to pick up the money; the client wouldn't open the door for a stranger. He turned his head, repulsed by the sores around the junkie's mouth, and started the van.
It was then that something caught his attention, distracting him from his favourite feeling – hate. A small figure. There. On the other side of the road. A boy, alone. Jamaal scanned the street on both sides, the car yards, parked cars. He couldn't see anyone with him. His breath quickened and his eyes narrowed. He felt a squirt of adrenalin in the pit of his stomach.
'Christ! Can't ya wait till I'm even in the car?'
Jamaal ignored the nasal voice of his passenger, eyes locked onto the kid who had just turned left onto Broughton Street.
Can't be more than eleven or twelve, he thought. Where is he going? He eased the van into the westbound traffic, and pushed his way through to the right-hand lane. He got to the lights at Burwood Road, and indicated to turn right.
'Jamaal, we're supposed to be in Mount Druitt at eight o'clock. Where are you going?' the junkie whined from the seat next to him.
He turned with the traffic when the light changed and did an illegal U-turn back onto Parramatta Road, ignoring protesting car horns, absorbed by the boy's movements. The light was fading now, but there he was. Still alone. Jerome was beginning to think this wasn't a good idea. What if Logan's dad got mad at him for showing up? What if they weren't even home? It was getting pretty dark too, and he was starting to feel creeped out. He'd never been out this late by himself. He tried to think about watchingSouth Park. Jerome's mum would probably give them ice-cream.
That van's driving slow, he thought, his heart quickening. Probably lost. Hope he doesn't ask me where to go; I don't know the names of the streets.
I wish I'd never come, he thought, as the van continued to idle along at his side. He looked at his sneakers and kept walking.
22
'Shhh, you're all right now.'
Mum?
Something troubled Jill, batting around her thoughts like a blowfly. It's best not to notice, she told herself, unwilling to face the feeling. Just listen to the noises in the back-ground. The page of a book being turned. Quiet breathing. Gentle repositioning noises of someone in a seat next to her.
Lying down or sitting up? I'm lying down. Must be night-time. But it doesn't feel like it. Smells funny in here. Kind of medicinal.
Jill felt the memory inexorably building at the edges of her consciousness, a far-away roar of knowledge gathering pace, drowning everything in its wake. Before the wave of recall hit, her stomach clenched in frightened anticipation.
She sat up, frantic. Wild-eyed. Where was he?
'Jill, it's okay.' A female voice, familiar, yet not. 'It's Claire. We met earlier.'
'What happened?' Her heart in her throat.
'The officers got him off you, love. Nothing happened. You're okay.'
'Who was it?' She already knew.
'Edward Pavey, I'm afraid. They call him Teddy,' said Claire.
'Where are we?'
'The clinic. The doctor's coming. Just lie back for a while.'
'I'm okay.' Jill bent down, fighting nausea, searching for her shoes. 'I passed out. I've had an injury. Supposed to be in bed,' she muttered. She felt so ashamed. What did the officers think of her? Attacked with her own pen. She just wanted to go home.
'You have to wait for the doctor anyway, Jill,' said Claire kindly but firmly. 'We have to fill in an incident report or we're all in trouble.'
Great. They'd have a record of her humiliation.
'Where's Pavey now?' She hoped she wouldn't have to see him. She didn't think she could walk past any of the men on the unit right now.
'Getting charged. He's over at the hospital. Got his arm broken when they got him off you.'
At least there's that, Jill thought.
Claire stood over near the sink. 'The unit's on lockdown, of course,' she said, walking back with a glass of water. 'Here.' She offered it to Jill.
Jill took it. 'Kellie said Pavey's a serial rapist?'
'He breaks into houses and ties his victims up. He likes to beat them with a dog chain.'
Jill drained the glass and leaned back against the pillows, lightheaded again. After giving Claire a watery smile, she closed her eyes and resigned herself to the wait, to making the report, to the check-up by the doctor. It wasn't like she could just walk out of Long Bay Gaol.
Besides, she thought, I'm going to need to get something stronger from him to get to sleep tonight.
23
Jamaal thought about snatching the kid now. Last time he'd brought in a boy this age, Sebastian had given him fifteen grand. He could use that right now. His wife was bitching about school fees, but he could probably use it to win twice as much at cards.
There was a park just ahead. On the other side of the road was a school. Perfect street really. The trees made it darker than others. He would just stop a little way ahead of the boy and pull him into the back of the van as he passed. He knew it would be easy. The kid would be in the van before he knew what was happening.
The junkie was on the phone. He had the thing permanently glued to his head, doing deals in his whiny voice. Could he trust this prick to keep his mouth shut? He listened to the lies he was spinning over the phone and knew he couldn't. The first chance he got to make some money from the story, the junkie would tell whoever was asking.