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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Nick

I jerked awake, my heart thundering in my chest, pain slicing through my head, and my lungs on fire.

Choking. Choking.

I couldn’t breathe.

A weight pressed down on my face. Sharp needles pricked at my shoulder. Soft suffocating fur— “Shelby, get off.” I groaned and swept the protesting cat from my face, then gasped a lungful of air. “Dammit, cat, you almost smothered me.”

Shelby circled around my feet and strolled back up to my chest, eyeing me coolly. I watched her for a moment as she sat and started to clean, trying to think through a million sharp cracks of pain in my head.

“Give it a rest.” I laid a hand on Shelby’s long silky body, took some deep breaths, and counted to ten. I got as far as eight before the haze in my brain cleared. “Fuck.” I sat up far too quickly and checked the room, shouting, “Mads?”

Shelby took off for the lounge and I winced as a half-dozen items of heavy machinery crashed from one side of my brain to the other.

When there was no answer, I tried again, “Mads?”

Still nothing.

I cradled my head in my hands, waiting for the commotion in my brain to settle and the room to right itself. When it did, I felt around my skull until my fingers sank into a boggy mess at the back. “Shit.” They came away sticky with blood and I wiped it on my shirt.

“Mads? Answer me,” I tried again as the room shifted in and out of focus. I blinked furiously, struggling onto one hip. Where the fuck was he? I had to get off the fucking floor. I needed to call someone.

I felt in my pocket but my phone wasn’t there. I tried to think where I’d left it, but it was like grasping at smoke. Like an old black-and-white movie, stuttering and disjointed. The accident site. Justin’s house. Coming home. Mads turning off the alarm. The alarm . Mads’ voice in my head. They were waiting for us.

My phone. Where the fuck was my phone?

I got a leg underneath and tried to push myself up, bile surging up the back of my throat. I swallowed it down and kept going, grabbing onto a dining chair for better leverage.

Shelby watched me from the sofa and I grunted her name. “Where’s my phone, girl?” She replied with a soft mewl and jumped from the chair. I blinked at the red stain running along her side, my heart leaping into my throat. “Are you hurt, girl?” But she was moving too freely, and only then did I see the pool of blood on the wooden floor between us. My blood.

“Well, shit.” Mads was not gonna be happy about that. I snorted at the thought and wondered if I was losing my mind.

I clawed my way up the leg of the chair and struggled onto the seat. Then, after a few false starts, I was able to stand, holding on to the back. From there I could see into the kitchen. I spied my phone charging on the countertop next to Mads’ one and lurched my way across, grabbing it just seconds before my vision started to grey at the edges. Gripping it tight in my fist, I slid down the wall and promptly tipped sideways onto the floor.

“Fuck it.” I pushed myself upright and opened my phone, blinking furiously to try and keep my vision clear. It was just after eleven o’clock. Mads had been gone less than thirty minutes.

My call went straight to Samuel’s voicemail. “Dammit, man. Answer your bloody phone.” I tried again. Same thing. And again. I slammed my fist against the front of the breakfast bar. “Come on, Samuel. Pick up. Pick up.”

When he didn’t answer a fourth time, I called Jerry instead. Before she even had a chance to speak, the words were pouring from my mouth. “They took him, Jerry. They took Mads. The book, the notebook, the key code, they took all of it.”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” she said, sounding annoyingly calm. “What are you talking about?”

I took a breath and tried to compose myself. “There were two guys in the house when we got back?—”

“Got back from where?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just listen,” I was almost shouting. “They knocked me out and they took Mads, along with all our notes.”

“Oh Christ.” Jerry exclaimed. “Are you okay?”

My hand went to the back of my head. “A bit woozy but I’m fine. I don’t know about Mads.”

“How long ago did it happen?”

“I can’t say for sure,” I answered, staring at the blood on my fingers. “Fifteen minutes, maybe more. Samuel’s not picking up.”

“Okay. I’ll have to borrow a car but I’m on my way. Can you call yourself an ambulance?”

“No, no ambulance,” I blurted, trying and failing to get my tongue to work right. Then, realising I had to sound a lot more convincing than that, I took a breath and tried to slow my brain. “Honestly, Jerry, I’m okay. A small concussion, maybe. Not the first time. Won’t be the last.”

Jerry blew a frustrated sigh, clearly not buying my bullshit. “Fine, but if I get there and think any different, you’ll do as I damn well say. In the meantime, no heroics. You so much as think about trying to go find him on your own and I will kill you myself. Understood?”

I grimaced against the white-hot pain lancing through my brain and squeaked, “Yep. Understood.”

“Good. Now use your phone to record everything you remember about what happened and leave getting hold of Samuel to me. He’ll know what to do.”

A knock at the front door almost stopped my heart and the phone tumbled to the floor. “Shit.”

“What happened?” Jerry demanded when I retrieved it.

“There’s someone at the door. Hang on while I check.”

“Jesus, Nick. Be careful,” she cautioned.

“I’m thinking bad guys wouldn’t knock,” I countered as I struggled to my feet, holding on to the countertop for dear life as I tried to find my balance. More thumping shook the front door and I shouted, “I’m coming, for fuck’s sake. Keep your hair on.”

There was a pause, followed by, “Madigan? Is that you?”

“Who is it?” Jerry whispered.

“I can’t see.” I picked my way across the dining room, clinging to the table and walls until I could see around the corner. A shock of pink hair and a set of exceedingly pretty eyes.

“It’s Gazza,” I hissed into the phone, letting go of the breath I’d been holding. “Madigan’s apprentice. I’ve seen his photo on the website.”

The second Gazza’s eyes landed on me, they widened into saucers and I realised I had to look a mess. He snatched his phone from his pocket just as I opened the front door.

“If that’s the police you’re calling, it’s being handled. My brother is a cop.”

Gazza paused with his finger over the screen. “And just who the hell are you? And where’s Madigan?”

I grabbed the door for support and tried for a smile. “Long story, and I’m not sure it’s your business.”

Those pretty eyes narrowed to a glare. “Well, fuck that.” He shoved me and I stumbled backward, barely keeping my feet. “Start talking or I’ll add to whatever injury you’ve got without a second thought.”

I returned the glare as best I could. “It’s still none of your bus?—”

He took a menacing step toward me.

“But since Mads thinks the world of you—” I raised my hands. “—if you’d just let me finish this call, I’ll tell you what I know.”

He studied me for a second, then took a quick look around the interior of the house and stepped inside. His gaze landed on the pool of blood on the floor and he drew a sharp breath before cutting me a sideways look. “That better be yours.”

I liked this guy. “It is.” I turned to show him the back of my head and he winced. “Holy shit.” He turned my head back around and frowned at the bruising on my jaw. “You look like you’ve been in the ring.”

“I wish.” I held up my hand and put my phone to my ear. “It’s all good, Jerry. See you when you get here. I’m gonna have to fill this guy in before he eats me.”

“Damn right.” Gazza deposited his satchel on the dining table, startling when Shelby landed next to it. “Your cat, I presume?”

I nodded and pocketed my phone. When I looked up, Gazza was glaring at me with his arms folded. “The police are on their way, you said?”

I nodded.

“Good. And for Pete’s sake, sit down before you fall down. I’ll grab the first-aid kit and one of Madigan’s clean T-shirts.” He walked to the sink and wet a clean tea towel. “Here.” He lobbed it over. “Clean your face up with that. You can talk while I see to that wound.”

And that’s exactly what we did. I talked while Gazza cleaned and dressed the three-centimetre wound on the back of my head. It had stopped bleeding, which was something I supposed, and according to Gazza it looked clean enough. He was surprisingly gentle, all things considered. Not sure I would’ve been quite so generous if our positions were reversed.

Jerry called halfway through to say she was almost there and that Samuel was on his way, lights and sirens with backup following close behind.

When Gazza was done patching me up and I’d briefed him on the shitshow he’d walked into, he sat back in his chair and studied me from across the table. “Jesus, Nick. That’s one pretty wild story.”

I grimaced. “Wild but true.” I scrubbed my hands over my face, wincing when I reached my jaw. “And they took him, Gazza. They took Mads, and we have to get him back. I can’t just sit here and do nothing. Where are they?” I spun to the front door but the driveway was empty. “Can you do me a favour?”

Gazza eyed me speculatively.

“Mads said he left a copy of everything in the studio. Can you check?”

“On it.” Gazza was only gone a few minutes before he returned with a thick wad of papers in his hand. “He made more than one copy.” He slid the papers toward me, but when I tried to focus, the letters swam lazily on the page.

I turned again to the front door. “Where the hell are they?”

Gazza’s fingers drummed on the tabletop. “So, you’re the famous Nick Fisher.”

I raised a brow. “Hardly famous. He, ah, mentioned me?”

Gazza gave me a critical once-over. “A little.”

For some reason, that surprised me.

Gazza continued to watch me closely. “Just the part where your husband had an accident a while ago and then died last November. I’m sorry for your loss, by the way.”

I managed a grim smile. “Thanks.”

“He mentioned you’d become friend- ly .”

I narrowed my eyes at the phrasing.

“He also mentioned you’d ghosted him at the funeral and for a while after.”

I groaned. “I wasn’t in a good place, and Mads is...”

Gazza’s expression softened. “Intense?”

I gave a soft snort. “Kind of. At the time, I didn’t want to talk to anyone , let alone a guy who wouldn’t be put off by my bullshit.”

Gazza chuckled. “That’s our boy.” He fell quiet for a second then added, “Mads isn’t a nickname he likes too much.”

I tried to keep my expression blank. “Really?”

His eyes danced with mischief but he didn’t press. “He did get one thing very right though. He said you were hot.”

I almost choked. “He did no such thing. That’s not something he would say. He’s too... circumspect.”

Gazza gave a soft smile. “So you do know him. And you’re right as it turns out. It was me who asked if you were hot. He only had to say yes.”

I refused to bite. “You’ve had my story, but why are you here? On a Sunday?”

Gazza tensed and looked about to tell me where to go, then he sighed. “Boyfriend problems. Oldest tale around.”

“Oh.” I grimaced. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

He shrugged. “We broke up, and instead of moping at home, I decided to bury myself in some work.”

The sound of tyres on the gravel driveway outside sent me stumbling for the front door with Gazza following close behind. Jerry sat behind the wheel of the first vehicle, but two police cars and a van were hot on her heels. She parked and got out, sending me an apologetic look as she walked around to the passenger side and opened the door for... Madigan’s Aunt Shirley.

What the . . . ?

“I was in her room when you called,” Jerry explained with an eye-roll behind Shirley’s back.

“I saw that,” Shirley lied, puffing past me into the house while Gazza watched on with his mouth hanging open.

“Gazza, this is Jerry,” I told him. “She’s the receptionist at Golden Oaks. And this is my brother-in-law, Samuel. He’s a cop in the marine service, although I don’t know who this is with him.” I indicated the blond man following Samuel inside. “And I assume you know Shirley. Samuel and Jerry were both here this morning so they know as much as you.”

“The receptionist?” Gazza was still staring at Jerry.

I shrugged. “She and Samuel are shagging. They were together when Samuel got the call about the caravan.”

The blond man accompanying Samuel made a sputtering sound and Samuel shot me a glare. “Arsehole.”

I merely grinned.

“I brought Shirley up to speed on the drive over,” Jerry told everyone.

“Fool girl thought she was gonna leave me out of this.” Shirley huffed angrily as she made her way into the lounge. “Madigan is my nephew. She soon changed her mind.”

Jerry shot me an exasperated look and mouthed the word sorry .

Samuel pinched my chin between his fingers and turned my head from side to side. “Fucking hell, Nick. You sure you don’t need an ambulance?”

“I’m fine” I pulled out of his hold. “Gazza fixed me up.”

Samuel didn’t appear convinced. “As soon as we’re done talking, I want you properly checked out, understood?”

I agreed, as long as finished meant that Mads was back safe and sound. I wasn’t going anywhere until then.

“This is Detective Ian Barrow.” Samuel introduced the forty-something blond man. “Ian will be taking lead on this. But don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere, much to his delight.”

Detective Barrow cast Samuel a wry look. He wore jeans and a short-sleeved cream polo, his hair tightly cut to frame an unremarkable but pleasant face, his dark eyes steady and assessing as he shook hands around the small group.

Samuel continued, “I’ve run Ian through the basics but he’s gonna want to hear it all again from you, in as much detail as you can manage, starting with exactly what happened inside so that forensics can prioritise their work.”

I swallowed hard and looked around the room, my gaze lingering on the pool of blood on the floor and the chair where I’d last seen Madigan. “They took him, Samuel,” was all I could manage, my voice cracking as reality suddenly overwhelmed me.

Samuel’s expression softened and he laid a hand on my arm. “I know, mate, and we’re gonna need you to go over everything again more than once, but right now we need to know what happened today so we can brief forensics where to focus.”

I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Okay. Well, we just got back from the accident site?—”

“The accident site?” Samuel frowned.

I shrugged. “I wanted to show Mads, and we both wanted to see where Justin’s house was in comparison to where it all happened. Anyway, we’d only been back five minutes—the alarm had been on, by the way—when Mads sat in that chair and started work on the code.” I pointed to the chair. “While he was doing that, I went to the laundry to get us a cold drink. When I came back, there was a man standing behind Mads’ chair with a gun pointed at his head.”

I went through the rest in as much detail as I could, including the mysterious person on the phone. “I should’ve done more,” I finished, sounding as desperate as I felt. “But I didn’t, and now he’s gone.”

Samuel shot Ian Barrow a look and laid a hand on my arm. “You did exactly the right thing. Pushing harder might’ve got you both killed. Now let’s head outside and give the team some room to work.”

Before we took our seats on the deck, I pulled Jerry aside and shoved a rolled-up set of the photocopied code and key into her hand, along with a pencil. “Keep working on this. You remember what Mads said about how to do it?”

She nodded and grabbed a seat off to one side while Samuel settled in the chair opposite me and Ian Barrow took the one beside him.

Samuel scrutinised me. “It might be best if we talked with you alone.”

“No,” I said flatly. “We all know the story. Next question.”

His jaw ticked and his lips pinched together as he eyeballed me with a look that would’ve set most criminals quaking in their boots.

“Do you know what a pain in my butt you are?” he commented drily.

I stared him down. “Like I said, next question.”

He held my gaze for long enough to let me know just how pissed off he was and that a reckoning was coming before he finally relented. “Fine. Have it your way. To start, we’ve looked into both Justin Leonard and Lachlan King.”

I was all ears. “And?”

“Lachlan King checks out pretty much as he told you. When we called him, which he wasn’t happy about by the way, he had nothing to add from what he’d told you last night. Or that he was willing to add, put it that way. But since we didn’t know about Madigan then, I’ve instructed a colleague to pay him a visit and see if he can rattle something more out of him.”

I could only imagine how that was going to go .

“Next, we contacted the Waikato Police and I spoke to the detective who’d worked with King. He said that King was cooperative and useful, even if he refused to tell them the name of his source, who we now know was Justin. But trying to find any information on Justin himself drew a blank. He doesn’t appear to exist, so you were right about that. But the existence of someone like him was well known to the police at the time.”

A knock on the glass had everyone turning toward the ranch slider. A man poked his head through the opening. “That CCTV footage is ready when you’ve got something to work with.”

Samuel nodded and turned back to the group. “The search of Justin’s property unearthed a treasure trove of evidence and information, much of it encrypted, digital and otherwise—seems Justin liked his codes. There’s still a team working on it now. But there was no evidence of any underground railway for domestic violence victims, so I’m not sure where that leaves us in that regard.”

I looked away, remembering my own mother and wondering how things might’ve been different if she’d had someone like Justin on her side to help her out... help us out... regardless of the morally grey stance he took in most other areas of his work.

I swallowed hard and asked, “Have you told Lizzie?”

Samuel grimaced. “Like I could avoid it. She’s been on my case all day since the fire, and when Jerry let me know about Mads, I told Mum the basics. She’s horrified and also furious with Davis. She wanted to drive over but I managed to put her off... for now, at least. Don’t know how long that will last.”

Shirley spoke up. “I should call Jonas, Madigan’s brother. His family live in Sydney. They deserve to know. He’s Madigan’s next-of-kin.”

Samuel nodded. “When we’re done talking.”

Shirley didn’t look too happy about being told what to do but she gave a curt nod. “I suppose that works. But I’m not a child, detective, so please don’t treat me like one.”

Samuel wisely let it go and turned back to me. “Okay, now we need you to go through everything again.”