Tallowwood Page 30

  His dad gave a nod and leaned down and kissed Jake’s forehead. “Real good to have you back, son.”

  Jake closed his eyes, still tired as hell. The side of his face and his eye hurt, but his brain . . . his brain felt like it had been impaled by a cactus.

  When he opened his eyes again, his mum was frowning. “Do you remember what happened, love?”

  He had visions of being in the forest, of Hirsch and of Kenny . . . He tried to nod. “Yeah. I remember.”

  “August saved you,” she said, smiling through her tears.

  August . . . he remembered August in the forest. “Where is he?”

  Jake’s mum nodded to the end of the room, and there was August sound asleep on a fold-out bed. “He hasn’t left . . . well, he left once because you puked all over him. He needed a shower and to buy new clothes. But he wouldn’t leave after that. Asking for the roll-away bed in here was all we could do to get him to sleep at all.”

  Jake smiled, but he was tired again already. “What time is it?”

  “It’s six o’clock in the morning,” she answered quietly. “You’ve been in here for two days, love.”

  Two days? What the hell? “Two days?”

  She nodded. “Whatever drug those bastards gave you—”

  A smiling doctor came in, followed by Jake’s dad. “Glad to see you’re with us. You’ve got quite the fan club. Police, media, film crews, photographers. Oh, and your personal guard who finally succumbed to sleep after forty hours. I thought we were going to have to sedate him.” The doctor winked and checked Jake’s file and the machines next to the bed, then checked his pupils. “How’s the head?”

  “Headache’s bad,” Jake mumbled. It was less painful to squint.

  “Because your brain almost cooked itself,” the doctor said. “You were lucky. Your detective boyfriend told us you’d been administered some bio-chem compound and got some genius pharmacology student on the phone, and we worked out a course of action.”

  Jake’s eyes closed. He simply couldn’t keep them open another second. But he was smiling.

  Detective boyfriend . . .

  Jake liked how that sounded.

  When Jake woke next, August was sitting beside the bed, holding his hand. “Hey,” he said gently. “I heard you woke up for a bit earlier today.”

  Jake blinked and marvelled at the feel of August’s hand. “Yeah. I’m so tired.”

  “You rest for as long as you need.”

  “What time is it?”

  “One twenty-five in the afternoon. Your mum and dad just left to grab some lunch.”

  “Mum said I puked on you. Sorry ’bout that.”

  August grinned, and he gently stroked Jake’s forehead with his other hand. “It’s okay. I needed new jeans anyway. And new shoes and new socks, and a new shirt and a new sweater and a new everything.”

  Jake smiled on a sigh, and he slow blinked. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” he whispered. “I thought I’d lost you too. I thought they were going to kill you, and it scared the hell out of me, Jake.” He gave a sad smile and put their joined hands against his cheek. “I just kept thinking not you too. I mean, it was bad enough they’d killed Christopher, but I’d just found you and you breathed life into me for the first time in so long, and the thought of losing you too . . .” His brows drew together and he sagged. “You don’t need to hear this right now. You just need to rest and concentrate on getting better. We can talk later.”

  Jake let go of his hand so he could touch August’s face instead. The coarse softness of his beard, the warmth of his skin, the colour of his eyes. “I want to talk about it. I’m just really tired.” His blinks were already getting longer. “You’ll be here when I wake up, yeah?”

  August took his hand and kissed his palm. “Of course I will be. Pretty sure your mum has adopted me. She keeps feeding me and making sure I stay hydrated.”

  Jake chuckled and closed his eyes again. August’s warm hand covered his once more, and Jake met sleep with a smile.

  The smell of food and coffee woke Jake up. He opened his eyes to find August and his parents in his room chatting and smiling over coffee and some pastry-type thing. “Morning,” he said, his voice croaky and his mouth dry. He had no idea what time it was, but it felt like the right thing to say.

  His mum and dad rushed to him, touching his hair, his arm. “How are you feeling?” his mum asked.

  “Better. Hungry.”

  His dad grabbed a brown paper bag and produced a lump of bread. “Homemade Vegemite scroll. Here, get it into ya.”

  Jake devoured half of it in about three seconds flat and his mum handed him a cup of water. The coolness and wetness of it in his mouth tasted divine.

  August stood at the foot of the bed, smiling. “You look a lot better.”

  “I need to sit up,” Jake said, trying to lean forward, and his mum and dad fussed over the buttons on the bed, and August just stood there and smiled at Jake. A nurse came in and fixed the bed in half a second while his parents still bickered over how to work the controls, and Jake felt even better now he was sitting up taller. “My back was sick of lying down.”

  “How’s your head?” August asked.

  “Better. I think.” Jake lifted his tube-free hand and felt along his temple and eyebrow. It was tender, and he had visions, memories, of Kenny’s boot coming at the side of his head. He blinked the memory away, but there was something he needed to tell August. Something that couldn’t wait. “Um, Mum?”

  “Yes, love?”

  “Could you and Dad please grab me a juice. Apple or blackcurrant. Maybe some fruit salad or something. And more iced water’d be great.”

  She looked from Jake to August, then gave Jake’s knee a pat. “Of course, love. It might take us about an hour though, okay? So you two have a little chat while we’re gone.”

  Jake smiled. Her tact could use some work. He was surprised she didn’t add an exaggerated wink. But his parents left, and then it was just him and August again.

  “Well,” Jake began. “I have two hands, and you’re not holding either of them . . .”

  August laughed and moved to his seat beside the bed and took Jake’s hand. The warmth, the feel of his skin touching his, felt like home. “Better?”

  “Much.”

  “Agent Eather will be back soon. He needs a statement. Same with the official police statement. Your sister’ll be back in later this afternoon.”

  Jake had no idea who Agent Eather was, but no doubt he’d find out in a few hours. His mind was still a little foggy and he was ridiculously tired, but he had to say this. “August, I need to tell you something.”

  His grey eyes met Jake’s, unsure and wary. “Okay.”

  Jake took a deep breath. “When I was drugged, it was . . . weird. I was aware of everything, but I felt nothing. I was just happy to go along with whatever. I knew they were potentially going to kill me or have me do it to myself, and I was completely okay with that.”

  August’s brow furrowed. “You wanted to die?”

  “No! No, not like that. If he’d have told me to stand on one leg for four hours, I’d have been like, okay, sure. Or if he’d told me to drive the car into the dam, I would have without a worry in the world. They told me to walk into the forest and told me to sit in the dirt against the tree, and I just did it. It wasn’t as though it was a great idea or a bad idea, it was just like stating a fact. I can’t explain it. Like telling me the grass is green and the sky is blue. There was no emotional connection, no pain, no fear, no questioning why I was doing these things. I couldn’t feel anything.”

  August nodded slowly. “Okay . . .”

  Jake squeezed his hand. “I want you to know, Aug, Christopher felt no pain. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I know when Violet first said it was likely the victim wouldn’t feel anything, you were so relieved that he didn’t feel pain or fear. I can tell you, he didn’t. It was just peaceful, easy. Nothin
g was a problem. I wasn’t afraid at all. It was really strange, but even the strangeness was okay. But I promise you, it was utterly painless.”

  August’s eyes became glassy and he nodded. “Thank you.” His chin wobbled and he let out a ragged breath. “It’s a comfort to know that none of them suffered.”

  “They didn’t.”

  August’s teary eyes met Jake’s. “I thought you were dead. When I first got there, you were lying slumped over and I thought for sure . . .” He put Jake’s hand to his face again. “Scared the hell outta me.”

  “Hirsch kept telling Kenny he gave me too much. I was too drugged,” Jake said. “In the end, I couldn’t follow what he was saying and I was so distracted. Sound was funny too, but if Kenny hadn’t given me too much, it would have been over a lot sooner. They were only supposed to stay near the clearing and give me instructions while I walked further in.”

  “So not to contaminate the scene,” August filled in.

  Jake nodded. “Yeah. But I kept spacing out. I couldn’t focus and . . . yeah. So they had to come over to me, I guess. Because the next thing I knew, they were right in front of me again. It was funny, because then you were there and I remember standing up because you’d said it, not Kenny.” Jake sighed. “Probably just as well. I mean, that I kept zoning in and out. Otherwise it would have all been over much sooner.”

  August kissed Jake’s knuckles. “I’m so grateful. Christ, I’ve never been so scared.” He closed his eyes and rubbed the back of Jake’s hand against his bearded cheek.

  Jake pulled his hand away, only so he could touch August’s hair, his eyebrow. “You’re sticking around for a while, yeah?”

  August’s gaze shot to his. “I’m not sure . . . I’d like to. There’ll be a lot of paperwork and I want to, but—”

  “Good. Then it’s settled. You’re staying. I mean, it makes sense that you stick around. For as long as it takes.”

  August eventually smiled. “You’re in a hospital bed after being kidnapped, held hostage, drugged and almost dying, and you still manage to be bossy.”

  Jake gave a lazy smile as he thumbed over August’s cheek. “I’m not ready for you to leave me yet. We have so much unfinished . . .”

  August stared into Jake’s eyes, searching for something. Truth? Sincerity? Hope? Jake wasn’t sure what he found, but he relented with a sigh and a smile. “You are something special, Jacob Porter.”

  Someone cleared their throat at the door. “Hope I’m not interrupting.” A guy wearing a suit, and Jacob had him pegged as a badge as soon as he saw him.

  August stood and dropped Jake’s hand. “Agent Eather. I was just . . .”

  Eather smiled and said, “You can continue to just . . .” He pointed with his chin to Jake’s hand. “I was hoping the Senior Constable might be able to answer a few questions.”

  August sat back down, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment, but he threaded his fingers with Jacob’s again.

  And so, Agent Eather explained it was now a federal investigation because of the stolen evidence being a classified prohibited substance. He asked Jacob about everything he’d discovered prior to leaving with Kenny and Hirsch, and all he remembered during the ordeal. And he told him everything. That he and Deans suspected either Kenny or Hirsch, about the bottle of spiked water, about how the drug made him feel and behave.

  Jake’s parents were back by the time he was almost done, and he sipped his apple juice. He’d grown tired again, but he fought it. He wanted to tell his side of the story. “And it was weird, I know I’ve said that a lot, but the whole experience, being drugged and unable to think or move for myself, was just . . . it felt surreal. And I had my gun, I had the satellite phone, pepper spray, and I’m half their age and twice as fit as them, but it all meant nothing. Nothing registered in my mind. I was just doing whatever Kenny told me to do. But the weird part, in the end, I wasn’t listening to anything Kenny was saying. Hirsch said Kenny gave me too much, and maybe that was why, but I just stopped hearing him . . .” Jake blew out a breath and almost laughed. “And you’re gonna think this is crazy, but there was a kookaburra and—”

  Eather’s eyes went to August, and August stared at Jake, a hint of a smile at his lips. But Jake’s mum came to the side of the bed. “A kookaburra?”

  Jake felt foolish, but he told them the truth. “And it was all I could hear. It was telling me it was okay, that I should listen to it and not to anything Kenny was saying.”

  Eather was still casting curious glances at August. “You saw a kookaburra as well?”

  “What do you mean, as well?”

  “Detective Shaw claims he saw one too.”

  Jake stared at August. “You did?”

  “Yeah. I came running down the fire trail and was getting toward the clearing but a kookaburra swooped at me. Made me stop. Then I heard yelling, and when I turned toward the sound, the kookaburra was sitting right there in the branch. It was so close I could have touched it. And it flew to a tree further back into the forest and did this thing with its wings.” August shook his head. “It sounds crazy. Anyway, I followed it. Well, I followed the sound of the yelling, but the bird was showing me the way.”

  Jake’s mum put her hand to her mouth, her eyes teary. “Two kookaburras?”

  Jake grinned. “Yeah, Mum. Nan and Uncle Martin were looking out for me. At first, I thought she was there to meet me in the Dreaming.”

  Then his mum burst into tears, and his dad was quick to put his arm around her.

  “And I remember thinking it was okay, to be with my ancestors and the lands they once stood on. Like, that’s a good place to die, right?” Jake got a little teary then. “But Nan was there to watch over me, Mum. And Uncle Martin too.”

  His mum nodded and scooped him into a crying-hug.

  August gently rubbed Jake’s arm. “I thought I was going crazy, but it makes sense now.”

  “It does?” Eather asked.

  Jake’s mum pulled back and patted Jake’s face, fixing his hospital gown. “Our people are all around us, always,” she said. “When one of our family dies, we see kookaburras. I don’t expect you to understand.”

  Just then, Deans came into the hospital room, wearing her uniform, holding a huge bunch of flowers. “I heard someone was awake,” she said.

  “Oh hey,” Jake said, feeling heavy against the mattress. It was good to see her, and he smiled. “I heard someone kicked arse as a constable and organised a whole fleet of cops to come to my rescue.”

  Deans grinned. “Just doing what you taught me, really. And what Detective Shaw told me to do.” She came in closer and squeezed his hand. “I’m just glad you’re okay, Jake. You weren’t looking too good last time I saw you.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Jake replied.

  “Good,” she said. “’Cause it’s just you and me now at the station. And I kind of need you to come back.”

  “Where are Hirsch and Kenny?” Jake asked. “Where are they now?”

  “They were held at the Coffs precinct at first,” Deans said. “They’ve been formally charged with unlawful imprisonment, assault, administering prohibited substances. And that’s just on you. All other murder charges are pending. They’ve been transported to Sydney, because the case is gonna be a big one.”

  August grunted. “The prosecutors want all my cases before Hirsch and Kenny can be charged with the other murders. Reinhart is now suddenly being very cooperative. He claims he recognised the names from his time in Bondi, but he didn’t know them; he never worked with them anyway. He did admit to logging onto my computer but only to see what information I had. Apparently me digging into files from the 80s and 90s got him nervous.”

  “We’re looking into Reinhart,” Agent Eather said. “He’s being very cooperative, if that’s any consolation. But I think the era of the old-boys club in the state police is over.”

  August shrugged. “Yeah, well, let’s hope so. It’s amazing how shit gets done when the Royal Commission’s watching.”
He then explained how it had all begun. How Hirsch and Kenny met in high school, along with Terry Gao and Nina Schneider, and how Allan Kenny had manipulated them all for years. He was controlling and charming and kept Hirsch on a short leash, and wherever Kenny went, Hirsch followed. When Hirsch was asked if he loved Kenny, he started to cry. Of course, Kenny strongly denied any personal relationship with Hirsch. But with more information from Kenny’s mother, Hirsch and Kenny were also now being investigated for assaults on gay men in the Eastern Suburbs in the 80s and early 90s. “They believe that was how it started, and they progressed and evolved to murders from there. Kenny is claiming responsibility for the Sydney murders, but says it was Hirsch who orchestrated the Tallowwood murders. Hirsch denies it, but those bodies were partly covered as though Hirsch couldn’t bear to look at them, or that he felt remorse. Kenny certainly felt nothing. But the Commission believes there’s more bodies. And we have to wonder, how many were drugged and killed by other means? How many tests did Kenny do on men before he perfected his fantasy with the correct dosages? He had the drug for a while before the first official case we know about. There has to be more.”

  “How many do they think?” Jake asked quietly. “Have they given a total number on how many there are?”

  August squeezed Jake’s hand. “Nina said it’s between fifteen and twenty.”

  “Oh my God,” Jake whispered.

  “Apparently Kenny put a hold on Detective Shaw’s request for further missing persons information fitting the criteria and the retesting,” Eather added. “Hirsch’s very withdrawn and they’re wondering if he’ll be fit enough for trial. I do believe Hirsch has requested a plea deal if he spills all.”

  “Yeah, mentally unfit until it suits. I don’t think so,” August said. “I think that piece of shit will spill all the details and get no leniency. He won’t last a week in prison.” There was a fire in his eyes when he spoke. “And as for Kenny . . . you just know he’s gonna try for insanity, but we should be able to disprove that. He’s not insane. He’s a calculating psychopath. And he can rot in isolation for all I care.”