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CHAPTER THIRTEEN
WAZZA LEANED INSIDE the rear door of Kee’s four-wheel-drive. It looked like Lefty had stacked everything he’d requested inside. He could see the brand-new tent tucked in front of two thirty-litre water containers—full of water—which Lefty had slotted into one corner of the rear cargo area. Two small, lightweight sleeping bags and a couple of rolled-up mattresses completed the list of things he’d asked for. Kee’s pair of old jerry cans were strapped in against one side of the compartment. Wazza tapped them to make sure they held fuel. Yep, full to the brim. Wazza noticed a few items that hadn’t been on the list, like a small gas camping stove and some steel pots and pans.
“I threw in a couple of things as well,” Lefty said. “They were just sitting around my workshop, gathering dust.” Lefty tapped the side of the car with a grease encrusted finger thoughtfully. Wazza had no idea how old the mechanic was, he seemed ageless. He’d been working in Dimbulah for as long as anyone could remember. A bit of a hippie, his long, gray hair was pulled back into a ponytail, teeth stained yellow with nicotine. The townsfolk often talked in hushed whispers, wondering what they were ever going to do if he chose to retire; good mechanics were like hen’s teeth, especially way out here.
“Thanks, mate. You’ve done a bonza job,” Wazza confirmed, closing the door. “Add them to the list of things I owe you for.”
“Nah, it’s all good. I never use them; you’re actually doing me a favor by helping me declutter. Next thing you know, I’ll be like Marie Kondo.” Lefty waggled a bushy eyebrow in Wazza’s direction, and Wazza gave a snort.
“Not likely, mate,” he said, his sweeping gaze taking in the chaos inside Lefty’s mechanic shop. There were car parts cluttering up every available bit of bench space, rolls of wire and tubing, drums of oil, and cans of grease. But Lefty was the best mechanic for hundreds of miles, and he could fix just about anything. He’d kept many of the local cars on the road long after they should’ve been destined for the scrap heap. “Come and I’ll settle the bill with you now,” Wazza added.
He headed toward the back of the workshop, where Lefty had his desk set up, also cluttered with piles of paperwork. Kee wasn’t happy about him paying for her car repair, and she’d be even less happy when she found all the extra stuff he’d ordered in the back. But after their conversation last night, hopefully she’d take his offer with good grace. She needed to learn to accept help when it was given. It was good that Kee was heading off today. Skylar said Nash was due back in town this evening. It’d be much better if she was gone before he arrived home. Then Skylar wouldn’t have to lie to him, and hopefully he’d be none the wiser about Kee’s existence.
Wazza glanced to the front of the workshop, out through the enormous roller door to where Kee was busy unloading the Stormcloud Land Cruiser and transferring her and Benni’s belongings into her own car. It looked like she’d already installed Benni’s child seat into the back and was now carrying over their bags. Benni was on her knees, looking at something intently in the gutter by side of the road. Kee said something to her daughter, but Wazza couldn’t catch her words. Probably telling her to stay off the road. Lefty’s shop was in a quiet, dead-end street, one row back from the main thoroughfare. Benni would be safe enough, the only cars were those of the people who owned the other shops.
Lefty sat at his desk and pulled out a dirty sheet of paper from beneath a pile, handing it to Wazza. How the man knew where anything was in this jumble, Wazza couldn’t guess. But it seemed to work for the old man. Wazza studied the bill for a few seconds. He would’ve paid whatever Lefty asked, especially after he’d gone above and beyond to tow the vehicle back to the shop. But Lefty made sure everyone understood exactly what they were paying for. Wazza found it was a sign of respect, to make sure he looked at each itemized detail. Everything seemed to be in order, including the list of camping items he asked Lefty to include. He pulled out his credit card and handed it over.
Lefty pursed his lips as he punched in the numbers to the machine.
“Looks like she and her young’un are off on a trip outback. You going with her?” Lefty asked conversationally.
“No. Got too much work to do back at the station. The second round of mustering starts in a week or two,” he replied. Wazza knew he needed to get his head back into his job; he’d let things slide while Kee and Benni had been there, but now she was leaving, he could catch up on prepping for the muster.
“Will that other guy be going with her, then?” Lefty asked, peering down at the credit card machine as it beeped at him, and then handed Wazza his card back.
Wazza’s hand froze, half outstretched. “What other guy?”
“There was a man in earlier this morning, asking when the car would be ready. He called the woman and the girl by name, as if he seemed to know them.” Lefty gave him a puzzled look.
Wazza’s heart did a double tap. Who was looking for Kee? Wazza didn’t want to ask outright if it was a policeman, not wanting to give anything away. “What did he look like?”
“Seemed nice enough. Tall bloke, dressed a bit fancy, in long pants and a shirt. Definitely not a tourist, that’s for sure. He had a way about him, a hardness, kind of military, if you know what I mean?”
“What did you tell him?” Wazza snapped. “I need to know exactly what you said.” It sounded like it could be the ex-brother-in-law from Kee’s description. Bruno was an ex-cop. Oh, shit, he’d found her. Wazza glanced up, but neither Kee nor Benni were in sight.
“I…um…” Lefty hesitated, unsettled by Wazza’s intensity.
“Did you tell him the car would be ready today?”
“Well, yes. I didn’t see no harm in it. What’s going on?”
“Shit, shit, shit,” Wazza swore. Kee needed to get out of here. Now.
Suddenly, there was a scream from the front of the shop.
Wazza bolted past the car and out into the street, to see Kee scrambling to her feet, holding her head, blood trickling from between her fingers.
“He’s got her! Bruno’s got my baby,” Kee screeched. She pointed down the road to a man running toward a car parked on the corner, Benni in his arms.
“Mummy,” Benni cried over the man’s shoulder.
Wazza reacted without thinking, sprinting after the man. He couldn’t let him have Benni.
Wazza reached the sedan just as the man opened the back door and threw Benni inside. He grabbed the man and spun him around, landing a punch square on his nose. Instinctively, Bruno raised his hands to protect his face and Wazza took the advantage, getting low and striking him in the solar plexus. Bruno doubled over in pain, but Wazza was under no illusions that the only reason he’d got in two good blows was because he’d taken this man completely by surprise. Bruno was an ex-cop. Wazza had no doubt he could handle himself in any fair fight, but he wasn’t about to give a single concession. This man needed to go down so he could rescue Benni.
Wazza was by no means a trained boxer, but his father had made sure he could defend himself; taking him and his brothers out to the packing shed, watching them punch an old boxing bag over and over, until they ran with sweat, showing them how to duck and weave, throw another quick jab or an uppercut. He was also the youngest of four brothers, which said it all. He had his own collection of dirty tricks that’d helped him through many a fight with one or more of his brothers.
He aimed a kick at Bruno's knee and the man let out a howl of pain as his leg buckled.
