DANGEROUSLY PROMOTED — Intro & Foreword 

Dangerously Promoted is Megan Hardy. Megan Hardy. Harrison Martin. Additions, corrections and bringing it to print just the way I hoped. A special thanks to: Harrison Martin.

 

INTRO

Dear reader,

I'm Megan Hardy. I'm a 38‑year‑old mother of twins. Eight years ago, I was murdered by someone. Well… that’s what everyone thought had happened. They all believed it was obviously my body in the burnt‑out wreck.

Now, I’ve gotten even.

I live in the suburb of Candle Park with my hardworking husband Josh and my beautiful twins, Amber and Cory. They attend the local school. I love them all to death.

So it began. After years of study while raising the twins, I’d recently graduated as an architect and now worked at a junior level with Drummond Architecture in the city. My boss, Steven, insists my input helped win a contract for a new alternative‑energy‑driven estate. With this success comes the reward of promotion.

The family celebrates, of course. Josh is proud of my skills and encourages me, after many years of putting everyone else first.

It all sounds normal, right? Of course it does.

But the following day after my promotion, as I was happily driving home from work, my steering wheel inexplicably comes off in my hands. No pedestrians are injured — just. I suffer a cut to my face and a badly jarred wrist. No broken bones. Only a broken smile.

The car is repaired and life returns to normal.

But then a second, more connectable incident occurs. My friend Marybeth drinks liquid chlorine from my water bottle after working out at the gym. She is overcome and eventually taken to hospital.

Now alarm bells are ringing. Things don’t feel the same anymore. Someone is trying to harm me. But with no messages or reasons, the police believe it is all coincidental.

Life isn’t looking so rosy to me now.

Josh and the police keep explaining things away, until slowly life moves on to a new normal.

Two weeks later, as I’m driving home after work, I stop to pick up a woman hitchhiker. She agrees to wait in the car while I run in for a packet of cigarettes for Josh. But before I make it back, a huge explosion destroys the car — and the hitchhiker waiting inside is killed in my place.

Something shifts inside me. My anger feeds my determination to find my assassin.

I am now a living ghost. No one knows I am still alive. Even I feel a part of me has died.

I change my appearance. I am now free to spy on — and fraudulently collect — information for my list of suspects:

• My friend Marybeth

• The Mayor

• A man my husband Josh subdued at the Red Parrot Restaurant

• Coworkers Michaela and Joanne

• The drivers of a black sedan

• Even my husband Josh

Eventually, only one name remains on my list.

My strength is nearly spent. With one last roll of the dice, I discover the whereabouts and identity of my would‑be killer.

All because I was… Dangerously Promoted.

 

Copyright © 2019

 

Added foreword note by Harrison Martin

I was stunned to receive an email several months ago from Megan Hardy. Megan had read and liked my sci‑fi book. She wanted her true story told from a first‑person narrative. She needed advice. She wanted an experienced writer to help.

I told her to try a professional company, or that another writer I communicated with might help. She insisted I could help her write it. I gave in.

I met up with Megan at her house with husband Josh and received a rough arrangement of handwritten notes. It took a bit of getting used to, though once those initial curly red‑penned A4s in her handwriting were explained, it began to fall into place pretty quickly.

I designed it to flow in her own original words. My arrangement has hopefully not taken away too much from Megan’s initial intention of more personal commentary throughout.

Do I believe Megan’s story? After delving into some historical facts, I believe it to be a true story. I’m not here to convince you of that, only to help Megan share her nightmarish ordeal. For if it is true, then Megan Hardy is one brave lady to have been able to solve her own murder mystery.

You be the judge.

As an added bonus, following the book is a short transcribed interview between myself, Megan, and Josh Hardy. This took place at their house one snowy afternoon in early February 2019.

 

Added note from Megan Hardy

After many months of debating whether we should bother to recollect every single piece of the puzzle that led to my attempted murder, Josh and I finally agreed it should be told.

For over a year, we had long discussions — recollecting the time and place of events, conversations, our emotions, interpretations, perspectives, thoughts. Correcting each other when needed, until we concurred that everything written in this book was a true occurrence to the best of our ability.

I encouraged the recounting of these events with Josh by easing the effort on occasions with one or two glasses of liquor and ice, which loosened our rusty tongues. Even with murder, it can become a chore to relive the same hurtful and harmful events repeatedly.

No agent or publisher has wished (so far) to take a punt on a book without our photographs attached. As of yet, we are undecided how far we should expose ourselves.

Still, I must share this horrendous part of my life through this self‑published book. It’s a kind of belated dove of peace for me — released to carry the terrible memories of an unwanted past, so that others may absorb and discuss a secret no more. Twenty years in jail, no less.

This is my personal struggle to find the individual responsible for several unsuccessful attempts on my life. My reward? To stop them taking everything we loved away.

1st‑degree attempted murder in the USA is life imprisonment.

 

Chapter One — Home of the Brave

February 2nd, 2011

It’s morning. School and work await.

I’ve had a shower, scrubbed my skin, dried, combed and styled my dark brown hair. Now lipstick, eyeliner. I don’t put on foundation. I look at my soft brown eyes and smile.

Heck, I feel like nail polish on my toes today — but it snowed overnight. Hmmm. Just a short walk to the heater in the car. I laugh. I’ll do it.

Five minutes later, with twenty shining red nails, I stand in front of my clothes in our walk‑in wardrobe. I choose a dress with mixed colours of purple, red, white and black. It’s a little clingy, but I’m alright with that today, and I don’t have much for it to cling to. No sleeves, above the knees.

Now, shoes. White kittens? I’m pushing it, but I lost those few extra pounds.

I’m definitely in the wrong season as I look at myself in the full‑length mirror behind the walk‑in door. I do a few summer poses and smile.

Ready.

Well, I am.

Josh is still sleeping as I make my way down the dozen cream‑carpeted steps to the modern tiled kitchen. Tea, muesli, and half an hour going over my notes for the big meet‑and‑greet this morning with the men who’ll either finance our project or sink it. It’s their choice which company wins the contract. It’s down from four to two.

I’m a little nervous. I know the company really needs it.

Cory watches TV from his bed.

He is ten years old and I know he’s daydreaming. I say firmly, ‘Come on, Cory. Weren’t you meant to be dressed for school fifteen minutes ago?’

Cory is unconcerned. ‘Yeah…’ He slowly starts to get ready.

I shake my head and go to check on Amber. Cory has stayed up too late again.

Amber, like always, is sitting on her bed, ready for school. She is ten. There are no mobile devices for my children. I won’t have them lost, opening doors to a million strangers a minute at the push of a button. My mom feels the same way.

I stand in the doorway.

Josh comes down the hall, leaving for work. I deduce, ‘At least two of you are ready.’

Josh passes behind me, kissing my left cheek. ‘See you, babe. Al needs me early. Last‑minute thing.’

I smile at Josh. ‘See ya… wish me luck!’

Amber runs up. ‘I forgot to give you this, Mom. Our class is going to the museum tomorrow and we have to pay for it this morning.’

Josh says, ‘Good luck.’ He smiles and leaves the house.

He walks back in and looks at my shoes, shaking his head. ‘Your feet will be minus two and wet before you reach the car, you know?’

I get it. ‘Okay. Shoes first, change at work. Check.’

Josh salutes me and goes on his way.

I watch Josh a moment. I always watch Josh a moment.

‘Right… well, little lady. We’ll just have to get some money out on the way to school. I’m all out!’

Josh fires up the truck and turns the radio on. The driveway is short but wide, sloped, and right in the middle of a busy suburban street. The grass is neat and our letterbox reads Number 10 — and still does to this day.

The sun is shining. It’s a beautiful, mild winter’s morning. Josh surveys the street from high up and drives out onto the road with country music playing. The houses pass by as he does what he has always wanted to do.

I follow behind the children (with my kittens in a shopping bag) as they walk to our tan‑coloured 1979 Chrysler Cordoba sedan parked in the driveway. I wait patiently until the twins are belted in, then drive away.

I’m relieved to find a park right beside the ATM, big enough for my car.

‘I’ll just get some money out here,’ I explain. I engage the handbrake. ‘Stay in the car, kids.’

With this task complete, I’m back in the car, indicating out as another car waits to take my spot.

Cory says, ‘I forgot my maths book, Mom!’

I groan. ‘Nothing I can do about it now, Cory. You’ll have to be more careful. Normally I’d turn back, but I have a very important meeting at work this morning. Sorry, baby.’

Cory looks a little unhappy, but he’s got to learn. This was becoming a weekly event.

I stop outside school and wait in line with the other parents as the cars drive into the school grounds. First come, first served. It’s slow.

I think to myself, There’s got to be a better system.

The children jump out and head towards their classrooms. It’s always frantic here for some reason. I’m starting to think: How is it going to be a better new estate without a better parking system in place for the school?

‘Bye Amber… bye Cory… Amber? I forgot to sign that museum paper. Come back to Mommy, please.’

Amber brings the paper out, which I must sign so she can go to the museum tomorrow. I pull my Parker Pen out of my top pocket, but it doesn’t work. I scribble on the back trying to make it work, but the ink has run out.

I’ve had the pen since my younger, shyer, more insecure days at school, when the school knew I was the wiz at technical drawing.

I sigh. ‘Damn pen doesn’t work. I’m going to be late!’

Amber casually helps. ‘Here, Mom… use mine.’

She brings her Toy Story pen out of her school bag.

I smile. ‘Thanks, baby.’ I sign my name. ‘There you go. See you after school!’

Amber smiles and runs after Cory.

I turn the radio down now. Pulling away from the school, my mind is quickly processing different ideas for a better system for school parking. I feel happy, but I’m a little late.

Late or not, I need a refill for my special pen, so I pull over outside a shop on the main road near the on‑ramp. I shut the door to my car and walk past a couple of people into the shop.

I walk up to the counter. ‘Can I have some refills for my Parker Pen, please?’

The shop assistant opens a drawer. ‘Parker refills? Here you go… there are two refills in the packet for that type. Is that the lot?’

I smile. ‘Yes, thanks.’

I pay in cash and look at the various things for sale behind him. I notice they sell Josh’s brand of cigarettes. I don’t like his smoking, but feel it’s his body, his choice.

I drive away and indicate straight onto the on‑ramp, accelerating to 70 mph. It’s only ten minutes to the car park at Drummond Architecture from here.

I park the car in Car-park D and walk quickly to the lifts. I ride to ground level, swap lifts, and push Floor 24 — the company’s display room.

The clock above the door tells me, as I exit the lift, that I’m two minutes late.

Steven, my boss — everyone’s boss — seems to relax a little on seeing me. He chats to the three men while looking over the model of our proposal on a large flat display table. Will and his team stand further away, patient yet ready to advise.

Steven announces, ‘Gentlemen… this is the junior architect I’ve been telling you about. Megan?’

I follow Steven’s instruction and head in, hiding a small moment of feeling incompetent for such a big project. I am a junior in Will’s team.

Will looks at me and smiles.

I purr, ‘Hello.’

I shake hands. I know their names — especially the Mayor’s, who had rocked the office last week when, during an interview on Karen Carter’s Morning Show, he suggested he had scepticism about the New Energy Efficiency Estate, or N.E.E.E.

The tall Japanese man shows concern. ‘I was just taking some notes and my pen has run out!’

Wow. What a coincidence.

I pull the spare refill from my bag, take his pen, throw the spent cartridge into the bin, place in a new one, screw it down and click it up with my thumb.

I grin. ‘Here you go!’

Fingers crossed.

They all look impressed. He scribbles. It works. He thanks me.

Steven continues, ‘Megan’s put a lot of hours and research into this, driving me and my fellow workers crazy.’ He grins. ‘But seriously, she’s done a great job.’

The tall Japanese man, Ichijo, says, ‘Indeed… we’re very impressed with the solar designs and the dry toilet system. The houses in the new estate all being interlinked, sharing the load, is a skilful touch. We’re very impressed with grid distribution and battery storage as well.’

I smile. ‘Thank you. Will has had me spending countless hours talking to different engineers and builders on the cost of sharing the power load through solar and battery storage. Our budget won’t waver now. I had another idea this morning.’

The three men look interested. Steven looks shocked.

Whoops.

Ichijo encourages, ‘We’re listening.’

Too late now. There’s a lot riding on what I say next. I’m sure Steven now wishes I’d taken the day off.

‘Here around the school…’ I point. ‘We have the park, businesses, shops and streets backing onto the school. It’s still a long walk for parents to the school and the drop‑off zone.’

I point again. ‘It’s standard USA. But — if we ran a drop‑off road all the way around the school with four entry points, leaving the park and streets where they end but slipping in a one‑way road… then bingo. Everyone can just drive right around and out again to the main road. No congestion. Less pollution. No roadblocks.’

Ichijo jumps in. ‘No waiting. Yes. I spent way too long last week waiting to drop off my kids. There’s just no design to it.’

Steven looks hopeful.

The second investor, an American from Texas, Tom J. Sugarfield, looks closely at the design.

‘That’s a great idea, Megan. We’re always building great schools, but the drop‑off and pick‑up zones suck.’

Everyone laughs.

Will moves forward and explains in finer detail about access, drainage and cost.

‘I like the idea too, Megan,’ Will admits. ‘This could easily be adjusted to fit.’

I breathe out. I wouldn’t be doing that again.

But I would.

The Mayor throws in his two cents. ‘I’m just an observer today, but it all looks very futuristic.’

Steven wishes he could show him the door but only smiles.

I proclaim, ‘The future is here today, gentlemen. You would save tens of thousands each quarter compared to current water and power schemes. And the dry toilet system would save eighty percent a year on current water usage and treatment, taking pressure off our water storage, high‑consumption spikes and sewage treatment. During emergencies we could stand alone or share our power and water.’

Tom Sugarfield becomes animated. ‘Hell, Mayor, Megan’s right. The future is now. Leaving gas out — the other three utilities will be in our own hands. Wind turbines. Solar panels. Battery storage. Underground water storage of 13,000‑gallon tanks under every house using solar and wind pumps to distribute it around. It’s going to save us both money and time. We could make a little on top. We could charge attractive prices with the power and water backup for five thousand homes or more. No dam. Do you realize how much a dam costs to build and run? Hell yeah! We let the river flow for the farmers and top up if required.’

The Mayor nods. ‘Those plans are just over here for the houses, Megan?’

‘Yes,’ I say — but I look at Will, who takes over.

I notice Steven kindly bring his finger to his lips without the businessmen seeing, and I stop speaking.

Back in the dugout.

Steven explains, ‘The plans for the three, four and five‑bedroom houses are here…’

The men walk forward to Will and his team, studying the plans along with Steven Drummond and his three chief designers, who answer questions over dimensions, plans, technique, roads, drainage, etc.

Forty minutes later, I followed the group over to some refreshments. I now noticed the Mayor watching the investors happily. It seemed we were getting close.

Steven suggests, ‘Gentlemen… if you’d like to follow me, we’ve put a little film together in support of our proposal. It’ll only take five more minutes of your time.’

They agreed.

 

Chapter Two — Promoted

Several hours later in the day, Josh stands beside his truck as it’s being filled with cement. Alan, his boss — or Al, as Josh likes to call him — is racing around in his dozer, adding stones and sand.

Josh pulls his phone out.

‘Hey Megan!’ he says, welcoming.

I’m excited. ‘Josh, hon’, Drummond got the job! We got the job! I’ve just been promoted, given a huge pay rise, my own office, a bonus… baby, I’m so revved up!’

Josh moves away from the noise to stand behind his mixer. ‘You won the contract? That’s amazing. You worked so hard on it too, babe.’

I’m ecstatic. ‘I’m grinning from ear to ear. Steven’s given me the afternoon off. It must have been you wishing me luck this morning.’

Josh jokes, ‘That’s what I was going to say. A huge pay rise? That sounds terrific. Well… my truck’s ready, so I better go. I’ve got one drop left, so I won’t put my hand up for any more and we’ll celebrate soon. I love you… bye.’

I’m touched. ‘I love you too, Josh. Bye!’

I turn around to Steven.

‘How was Josh? Excited, I bet?’ Steven asks.

I smile. ‘Yes, he was.’

Steven explains, ‘Here I was thinking you were only developing your solar design…’

He pops a cork. Over a dozen people stand around having their glasses filled by the boss.

‘Will adding three different designs and finally your great idea for the school’s access. We took a chance, but I was right. They were ready for a big change. Raise your glasses, everyone, to Megan. She did a wonderful job on the project. We’re set for years ahead now. We owe her Drummond gratitude. In fact, you all did an amazing job. Every one of you!’

We all toasted. I was very happy. Maybe too happy.

Was someone in the office far from happy with my success?

 

Just over the state border, we slid out of our seats from a cold taxi. We’d picked the wrong one — her heater was playing up. We hurried across a light dusting of snow into the warmth of the Red Parrot, which was our place to go when celebrating an event.

Instantly, Bill Haley’s Rock Around the Clock welcomed us.

Josh, Amber, Cory and I walked together to our usual booked table in the restaurant. The design is 50s. The staff are dressed in pink and blue clothes from the era. Slicked‑back hair, movie‑star posters, and even a large signed and framed photograph of The Fonz are what we come for. It’s all fun.

There are even three old Gottlieb pinball machines, all in use, clacking and bumping and adding to the atmosphere. Twelve different coloured automobile‑bench‑style seating tables line the outer wall, giving patrons plenty of room to dance. Two tables — red and pink — were out in the middle, jumping to the Comets.

This was the busiest we’d seen it in ages. Tom, the owner and manager, had done a great job setting it up.

I didn’t suggest going somewhere more expensive for dinner as we slid into a much more welcome ride; though I did insist that Josh have the large T‑bone steak tonight, and that we get a taxi so we could have a few drinks. Drinking was not a regular occurrence around our house anymore. Josh was happy with this arrangement. His regular income was barely enough to splash out on, with our household budget stretched to the limit.

A sudden massive bonus and pay rise rewrote our limits, and the reins were about to be loosened.

Josh still wore his usual white T‑shirt and blue jeans under his open chocolate‑coloured jacket as he leaned his strong forearms and hands onto the table. His dark‑blonde hair is still dyed and styled short. He’s clean‑shaven with strong cheek lines, blue eyes and a cheeky smile; though he has a serious disposition at times due to his upbringing and time in the armed forces.

My shoulder‑length hair bounces playfully as I share a joke with the twins. I’m wearing a red satin dress, and Josh’s mother’s gold and green jewellery rests charmingly in deco fashion around my neck. Both of Josh’s parents were deceased. He handled it well. Herby, his only sibling, lived only an hour away.

My cute mouth (so Josh told me) is enhanced with red lipstick for the occasion. We smiled. We ordered, celebrated, and looked satisfied, as once again the Red Parrot delivered the goods to our big gold car. It was Cory’s favourite coloured table.

Cory beams, ‘Wow, Dad… I can’t believe you’re letting me have a T‑bone tonight!’

Josh smiles. ‘Taste good?’

Cory replies, ‘Yeah! I managed to cut it.’

We both smile as Cory struggles to chew the excessively large piece of meat for his sized mouth. We suggest cutting it smaller, which thankfully he manages to do the next time around.

I ask, ‘How’s yours, Amber?’

Amber smiles. ‘It’s good. I always like my seafood.’

She had an old soul in her young body. I needed her so much.

Josh reacts, ‘Daddy can’t stand the stuff. Except lobster tail… I can eat a couple of them.’

I suggest, ‘You should order some.’

Josh shakes his head. ‘I’m fine, just having a few extra drinks, babe. Thanks anyway… So a toast!’

The twins smile at their dad.

‘To your mother, who’s worked her you‑know‑what off for the last ten years and deserves every success that comes her way. Love you, hon.’

He smiles.

I reply, ‘Thanks, honey. And to your father…’

Josh looks surprised.

‘Who’s put dinner on the table every night. Helped finance my studies.’

I place a small package in front of Josh.

‘And deserves at least the little something I got for him on my way home after work.’

Josh smiles. ‘Hey… looks like chocolate, Cory!’

Cory agrees. ‘You could only hope.’

Josh jokes, ‘Better open it then. Don’t want it to go all sticky.’

I’m anxious. ‘I hope you like it.’

Josh tears it open. Inside is a new knob to replace the worn gear‑shift knob in his truck. It’s black leather, has the Mac emblem on it, and is the one he mentioned he would buy one of these days.

Josh is surprised. ‘Hey!… that’s the one… thanks, babe.’

He looks genuinely happy, leans over and kisses my cheek. ‘I was only thinking about that this week.’

I’m relieved. ‘There’s a new leather key holder in there too!’

Josh brings it out and nods happily.

Tom, the manager, comes over to say hello. His large slicked‑back black wig is over the top. We bumped into him in a Walmart last year. It took Amber to point out to Josh and me — with a “Hello Tom” — before we recognised him. He was bald under that wig.

Tom smiles. ‘Hey! How’s my favourite family from over the border doing?’

Amber says, ‘Hi Tom.’

Tom nods. ‘Hi Amber.’

Josh leans back, resting his elbows on the glittery gold backrest. ‘How’s business, Tom?’

Tom nods. ‘Yeah… been real good lately, Josh. Custer’s closed last month and it seems we’ve scooped up nearly all their regulars. I even stuck a sign down there — you know, information for where to find the Red Parrot. Looks like my family will be getting that April holiday after all.’

Josh admits, ‘You deserve it, Tom.’

Tom smiles. ‘Thanks.’

He stands up to all of his six‑foot‑two with the extra pounds and looks at our plates.

‘What are you celebrating, Megan? Is it Cory’s birthday yet?’

I answer, ‘That was last month.’

Josh explains, ‘We came over but you had a sign out the front saying you were closed.’

Tom grimaces. ‘Oh, yeah… we were one night. Both chefs were sick. But the bar was open.’

I explain, ‘We had the twins.’

Tom states, ‘Say no more. I understand. Well… since I missed your birthday, Cory, how about a free round of desserts for you and your family? It’s the least I can do.’

Josh declines, ‘That’s mighty generous of you, Tom, but we’re fine.’

Tom looks disappointed. ‘You sure you got everything you need?’

I interfere, ‘Except Josh was just saying he’d like another beer.’

Josh pretends to protest.

Tom signals to the counter, and Julia makes her way over.

Tom insists, ‘Well, I insist you just order whatever you’d like and this round is on the house. I missed your birthday last month, Cory, so it’s the least I can do.’

I bump Josh, who is about to refuse again.

Cory enquires, ‘Can I have the big dessert, Dad?’

Josh says, ‘Let’s not get greedy, Cory.’ He smiles. ‘Just an ice‑cream.’

Tom won’t have it. ‘No… can’t let that happen. Julia… get the little gentleman here a big dessert and—’

A dog barks inside.

Tom and everyone else are distracted as a rough‑looking man enters the Red Parrot with a large aggressive black dog on a chain. The dog barks loudly again. A romantic couple abandon their dance and head back to their purple car.

Tom says, ‘Hello… now there’s someone who has wandered in through the wrong door. Yeah… just take the Hardys’ order and this round’s on the house, Julia, thanks.’

Tom walks away as the rough‑looking man’s dog barks viciously at a complaining customer. Tom walks slowly over to the man.

Amber requests, ‘I’ll have a banana sundae, please.’

Julia writes it down. ‘Yep.’ She keeps an eye on Tom.

Cory decides, ‘I’ll have the chocolate big dessert, please. I don’t need a drink.’

I smile. ‘A glass of Cabernet Sauvignon, please.’

The dog barks as Tom confronts the man.

Josh orders, ‘A bottle of Roslyn dark lager for me, thanks.’

Josh looks at Tom.

As Tom asks the man to leave more forcefully, the rough man head‑butts Tom, who staggers back. Everyone watches as Tom, trying to recover, begins to shape up to fight back. He barely fends off another round of blows before landing his first punch. Blood is coming from his nose. Tom is trying to wipe the tears from his eyes with one hand while he blocks punches and hits with the other.

I watch with disbelief as Josh jumps out from our table, walks over to the rough man, brings his right arm up behind his back and dumps him to the floor face‑down. It must have hurt, as the rough man moans on impact.

Josh leans his weight heavily on the man’s back.

He’s pinned.

Wow! (Josh told me later what was said.)

Josh whispers, ‘You know… when I decided to come here with my family tonight for a little celebration, no one said anything about some will‑o’‑the‑wisp and his alter ego—’ (he pushes his arm further up and makes him feel it) ‘—taking their anger out on Tom in this nice, friendly, family restaurant! You should have gone to Joe’s if you’re looking for trouble.’

Rough man says, ‘OK… OK…’

Josh is emphatic. ‘So just get up. Take your mutt and leave quietly, if you don’t want more trouble.’

Tom has recovered and stands with a barman beside Josh, wiping his face with a bar towel.

Josh lets him up — and the man takes a swing at Josh.

Josh ducks and plants one right on his nose.

Ooh… that’s got to hurt!

The rough man falls back into Tom.

Josh is unrepentant. ‘Guess that means you didn’t want to leave quietly.’

Tom and the barman walk him and the dog quickly towards the door.

Tom says, ‘The Sheriff is on his way, boy!’

As they finally go outside, Brett the barman leads the barking dog, with several regulars in support.

Josh sits back down beside me like nothing happened. Several people pass our table and say hello.

I begin to say, ‘I’m—’

Josh interrupts, ‘I just couldn’t let Tom get beaten up, Megan.’

I explain, ‘What I was going to say was… I’m proud of you, Josh. That man is terrible!’

Josh relaxes. ‘Sorry kids… I wish I didn’t have to do that.’ He rubs his face.

Julia is relieved. ‘That was real cool what you did for Tom, Josh. Here’s your order.’

Josh takes a large mouthful of beer and sits back to relax.

The Sheriff’s car arrives outside and the man is arrested. Soon the flashing lights drift away.

Pretty Woman by Roy Orbison begins to play.

I’m excited. ‘How’s your dessert, Cory?’

Cory is too. ‘It’s a knock‑out!’

We smile as the twins finish their desserts.

Tom comes over sporting a swollen nose. Miraculously, his wig never came off. Blue Hawaii is up next.

Tom suggests, ‘I would have had him, Josh, but I appreciate the help.’

I commiserate, ‘Sorry. Well, it’s over now.’

Tom complains, ‘Wish my staff could be a bit quicker on their feet though. God, it’s up to my customers to help me out these days.’

Tom smiles — it hurts too much, so he stops and pats Josh on the back instead.

Josh complains, ‘Well, we can’t have fools like that in here, Tom. Dog would’ve bitten someone.’

Tom nods. ‘Exactly!’

Several customers call Tom over to their green car.

Tom says, ‘Excuse me, kind folks. Time for a ride in the green car.’

He nods and walks away.

Amber, Cory, Josh and I finish and head to the counter to pay.

Laverne informs us, ‘No charge tonight, Mr Hardy.’

Josh refuses, ‘Come on, Laverne. What do we owe you?’

I move in beside Josh, take out a bunch of notes and stick them in the tip jar.

I smile, ‘Thanks, Laverne. Say thank you to Tom for us. We had a great night.’

Laverne explains, ‘Tom insisted tonight was on the house.’ She smiles. ‘I’ll let him know. Goodnight!’

She waves goodbye.

It is snowing outside the Red Parrot. We chat for about five minutes before we feel the warmth on opening the doors of a taxi and slide into our seats. He drives away before we even give him an address. I’m not worried — it’s the only way out of there.

Josh states, ‘Well, that was a little bit more excitement than we were anticipating. The meals were the usual high standard.’

Driver asks, ‘Where to?’

He is a big, friendly black man. His ten‑year‑old BMW X5 is fine.

I agree, ‘It was delicious. I’m so happy, Josh… nothing’s going to upset me tonight.’

Driver repeats, ‘Where to?’

Josh turns around from the front seat. ‘Are we going home?’

I answer, ‘Why? It’s still early. Do you want to go bowling, kids?’

Amber states, ‘I like those pink swirly balls.’

Cory adds, ‘I bet I can bowl without a ramp now, Dad.’

Driver says, ‘There’s no bowling alley around here anymore, folks.’

Josh explains, ‘No, the one in Candle Park.’

Josh turns to Cory, ‘Has it been that long since you went bowling, Cory?’

Cory nods eagerly.

Driver says, ‘You want to go all the way over the border to Candle Park Strikers?’

Josh admits, ‘Sure do, driver.’

Driver smiles, ‘Yeah alright. I know wha’ you saying.’

Josh smiles, ‘I’d like to see my little hero knock a few over without the ramp.’

The snow blows gently onto the windscreen as the driver turns onto Casey Road.

Driver asks, ‘You happy going Casey Road way?’

Josh nods, ‘That’s fine.’ He smiles. ‘Nicer drive.’

 

I race in and swing my second ball all the way to the pins. First strike of the night at Strikers for me. One spare on my first bowl.

I boast, ‘Megan takes the lead!’

Josh smiles, ‘Not for long!’

Cory walks in and manages only a slight bounce on his second attempt. He gets lucky and knocks eight down.

Cory yells, ‘Did you see that, Dad?’

Josh nods, ‘I’m seeing it.’

Amber bowls. Her ball is quiet. It’s a very good release. It rolls very slowly, hitting dead centre, and nine pins fall over.

Cory looks on with fascination. Josh and I smile at one another. We keep looking at one another. The twins, more money, a good night out. I am so happy, yet calm. We nod.

Josh slams the pins over with a second strike. We all cheer.

 

The twins are nearly asleep as I carry Amber inside and Josh carries Cory.

Josh whispers, ‘Good night, my little hero.’

Josh pulls his sheet up to his face and kisses his forehead.

I arrive at the doorway feeling relaxed. I melt. ‘I love how you love them.’

Josh quips, ‘I love how you love that I love them.’

I giggle quietly. ‘That’s a lot of love. I had a great night.’

Josh states, ‘And may that last forever.’

We kiss.

Josh and I lie together holding each other after making love. We both mention how heavy the twins are now. Clean white sheets with fluffy pillows look and feel easy in our four‑post king‑size bed. The room has small French doors to a small balcony overlooking the backyard and out to the snow‑covered mountains.

I take a sip of my tea, then place it back onto my bedside table.

Josh wonders, ‘So you’ll be busy for a while now?’

I sigh, ‘Yeah… but once it’s complete, we can go on a holiday. Maybe we’ll even buy that little cabin up in the mountains we’ve been dreaming of.’ I joke.

Josh suggests, ‘Well…’ He pulls me close. ‘That sure would be a dream come true. Your bonus could do that now.’

I wriggle away and lean up on my elbow facing him. I am speechless.

Eventually I say, ‘Maybe we should. The price has come down fifty thousand in the last month. It’s a buyer’s market, nearly. I love you… We could, hey?’

Josh agrees, ‘We could.’ He pulls me in again. ‘Fishing, boating, walks, cosy fires… I love you.’

He smiles and kisses me. ‘Don’t ever forget that.’

I answer, ‘Don’t worry… I won’t… Wow, listen to us now. Remember when we used to call each other with three rings on our phones?’

Josh remembers, ‘Yeah… that was our three‑rings‑for‑scrounge‑money milk days. Better than explaining to the bank about late payments again.’

We laugh.

‘Have you still got that account in your maiden name?’ he asks.

I’m aware, ‘Yeah, I do. Maybe I should close that soon. No need to hide funds anymore.’

As things turned out, I’m so happy I hadn’t. It was about to become essential again.

 

Chapter Three — A Broken Smile

The next morning I sit at Steven’s desk. Steven stands up as Will, his co‑founder, and Jake, his senior architect, come into his office.

The office is white, splashes of colour, a few cleverly placed pieces of sculpture, a glass vase, uncluttered. Steven’s desk is the centre attraction. It’s a large artistic replica of a painter’s palette — very colourful. It holds a laptop, a phone cradle, a picture of his boyfriend, and a stationery kit including a calendar.

Steven continues, ‘So Megan, it’s the smallest office but it’s a start. I’ll tell you where it is in a moment.’

He smiles.

‘Megan, your ideas in joining the energy usage and storage, and easy access to the school for the parents, helped seal this contract. We’ve all thought about parking at times. We were surprised they insisted. They made a point of saying that. You keep coming up with ideas like that and you’ll be sitting with us as a senior architect in a few years. OK?’

I smile, ‘Sounds great.’

Will explains, ‘Here is your own company card.’

I accept it with gratitude.

‘You can use it on company matters, within reason. Lunch is fine.’ We all smile. ‘But everything is totalled at the end of the month. And just in case you think you might want to clean us out — there’s only one thousand available to you a day. And I always check with accounts before going home if there’s any issues. Every penny spent must have receipts.’

He flashes another difficult smile — not one of his stronger points.

Steven says, ‘Good. That’s that part done. Now, your office is Joanne’s old office. She’s switched departments and is in the marketing room now. We were going to give it to someone else. Susan, Bill and Michaela were your competitors.’

I enquire, ‘I thought Joanne Mills loved her job?’

Steven frowns, ‘She did. We didn’t. It wasn’t suiting her. We placed her where we felt her strength lay. Anyway, enjoy the view and if there’s anything at all you need, just let me know. Here’s your key. You just settle yourself in today and start on the estate tomorrow, OK?’

I reply, ‘Yes sir. I know where it is.’

Steven informs me, ‘And any more ideas are to be strictly between you, me and Will before any meetings.’ He places his hands together briefly. ‘Please? You gave us a heart attack in there.’

They smile.

I concur, ‘You got it!’

Steven’s cellphone rings.

‘Hi Andy, just a minute please. Thanks, Megan.’

I stand, shake their hands again and leave for my new office.

Yay! Phew!

I walk past my old desk and am surprised to see it filled by a new junior already. I smile at Michaela, who’s filling in the new junior assistant. Michaela also received a bonus for her help on the project, but had minimal input. After eight years, she hasn’t risen very high in the ranks, though she assures me she’s happy where she is for now.

Nevertheless, I’ve just found out I beat her to the promotion.

Michaela looks at me and mimics a duck. ‘Duck duck duck. Quack quack quack.’

I smile.

I keep walking down the flash hallway, leaving my old grouped desk behind me. Michaela is harmless enough, but very odd sometimes. Six ducks on her desk show her obsession.

I see my name on a closed door I’ve never been allowed into. This must be it. I nearly knock. No other Megan Hardys work here, I’m pretty sure.

I walk in.

I’m astounded. It actually looks out on my favourite view from the building. It’s like a dream.

I finally pull myself away from my wonder and notice my belongings in boxes, stacked up on the floor in the corner on the sky‑blue carpet. It’s a brand‑new white desk. Though I kept my old awesome orange classic‑replica management chair.

Will drops in for a chat and gives me a list as long as my arm for all the adjustments required in labour, plant, bitumen, guttering, trees, gates — the list goes on. There will be plenty to help organise regarding the drop‑off and pick‑up zone. Artists and model builders are already listed as urgently requiring my time.

Will had a meeting arranged in two days which would, he insisted, have the alteration ticked off. I felt awesome.

I spent the day chatting with coworkers. Most of them were surprised to hear of my promotion, and several conversations became awkward when they realised they would probably never advance from where they were for some time yet.

Later I unpacked my things, set up my new computer (though I was a two‑finger tapper), and had conversations with the bosses who dropped in from every department throughout the day.

Back to the view. All day it had been back to the view.

The view looks back towards home — Candle Park and the snow‑covered mountains. I notice the big old tree at the park just near my home. I felt great. Looking back, that tree really stood out to me that day.

I would find out later that afternoon why it did.

I left early and rode the lift to my usual spot in Car‑park D. Tomorrow, I would park in Car‑park A. Luxury.

I started the car and headed out of the car‑park onto the busy street. I didn’t know what it was, but the car didn’t seem to be handling that well. Maybe the tyres needed changing, I assumed, for the steering was shaky. It certainly felt dangerous, but at 70 mph it seemed to feel smoother.

I would let Josh know once I got back.

Off the freeway, waiting for the lights to go green, I watched people walk around the shops with their own thoughts. My thoughts were sky‑high. I turned and headed down the road with cars all around me.

I drove on and soon came to an intersection that would take me into Candle Park. In front of me I saw the large old tree — the one I could see from my office.

I turned with the green arrow and, to my shock and dismay, the steering wheel came off in my hands.

I scrambled to fit it back onto the column. Cars beeped and honked. I saw it just about on as the car slammed into the gutter. I knocked my face hard against something and my left wrist was jarred. My foot slid forward, causing the accelerator to spin the wheels. I surged ahead.

Now I was hitting the brakes.

The car slid along the light snow‑covered grass and the hood smacked hard against the big old tree.

I could feel blood trickling down my cheek. It was painful to raise my hand to feel it. I was in shock.

‘Oh my goodness…’

An onlooker persistently knocked on the window. I lowered it.

He snarled, ‘God, lady… you nearly hit my child!’

I thought he was going to hit me.

I muttered, ‘The steering wheel came off.’

He now saw it in my hand. The blood. He calmed down.

‘Ah… sorry, ma’am. Wow… I better call an ambulance.’

He dialled.

A second and third onlooker appeared. I ignored them.

‘What happened?’ ‘Her steering wheel came off!’ ‘Wow… lucky you weren’t on the freeway.’ ‘What happened?’

I called Josh. I had nothing to say to the onlookers anymore as they laughed about it.

Josh turned down the radio and pushed the button on his hands‑free cellphone clipped onto the dash.

Josh sounded happy. ‘Hi babe. I’m nearly home. What’s up, you don’t like the colour of the new office?’

Yes, I was crying now. I was a mess.

‘Josh, my steering wheel just came off and I hit a tree.’

What else could I say?

Josh quickly started to pull over.

I complained, ‘How could that happen? I…’

Josh responded, ‘Are you alright?’

With my hand on my head, I said, ‘I’ve got a cut on my face… and my hand hurts. Even to hold the phone.’

Josh moaned, ‘Where are you?’

No response.

Josh panicked, ‘Hey! Where are you? Can you hear me?’

I concentrated, ‘Candle Park. By the big old tree there.’

Josh explained, ‘I’m only five minutes from there now.’

I could hear the sound of his truck on his phone as he pulled out.

The onlookers were back chatting at my window.

I shouted, ‘Will you shut up!’

The three onlookers took their conversation slowly away.

Josh was confused, ‘What?’

I reassured him, ‘Not you, Josh. Onlookers. I can hear a siren now… yes it’s…’

I turned to look. ‘An ambulance for me.’

Josh fretted, ‘Just relax.’

I answered, ‘I think I’m alright? Ouch…’

Peter and Chris, the ambulance officers, appeared at the window.

Peter smiled, ‘Your steering wheel came off?’

I smiled weakly, ‘Yes.’

Chris insisted, ‘Just hang up now please, ma’am.’

I explained, ‘I gotta go, babe.’

Josh reassured me, ‘Love you. I’m almost there!’

I closed my cellphone.

They opened the door. A Sheriff looked in, greeted the ambulance officers, and walked away.

Chris asked, ‘Can you move OK?’

Josh walked up as the officers checked me over on the grass in front of a dozen onlookers.

Josh introduced himself, ‘I’m Megan’s husband. Is she alright, officer?’

Peter smiled, ‘Oh, hey Josh. She’s alright.’

Josh relaxed, ‘See babe. I said you’ll be fine.’

Peter explained, ‘She’s got a possibly fractured cheekbone and her left hand is bruised… but besides that, we think she’s OK.’

Chris added, ‘Megan’s vitals are all good. A little bit of a racy heart, but that’s understandable. We’ll take you to hospital and they’ll probably take an X‑ray on that cheek of yours.’

I nodded, ‘OK.’

And turned to look at Josh.

Josh smiled, ‘I’ll follow you over, honey. I’ll just get Col to organise picking up the car.’

I felt dizzy and closed my eyes.

 

I sat still while the man took several X‑rays. I felt like crap. The doctor who initially saw me kicked me off the trolley and into a wheelchair straight away. Now my wheelchair had been wheeled away without me in it.

The X‑ray man came back into the cold white room.

He announced, ‘All done. If you could just wait outside, a doctor will take a look at these and be with you shortly. Thanks. Get well soon!’

He placed them into a collection basket.

I walked gently outside to the waiting room. Any heavy or sudden movements hurt like hell.

I sat in the waiting area as Josh returned from the bathroom.

Josh reassured me, ‘Mom picked up the kids. She’s happy to have them stay with her until we can pick them up. No rush.’

He put his phone away.

I was relieved. ‘Good… that’s good.’

I leaned into Josh and held his hand with my uninjured right hand. We didn’t talk. We were both calming down. Except my cheek and wrist were both starting to throb.

The doctor finally arrived.

She explained, ‘Good news, Megan. No broken bones.’

I joked, ‘Hooray!’

I wasn’t happy.

She joked, ‘Try not to pull any more steering wheels off with those strong muscles of yours. OK?’

She pressed my shoulder.

I promised, ‘You can count on it.’

She smiled, ‘Here’s a prescription for the pain. Pick it up downstairs. You’re free to go!’

I would have gone anyway.

We thanked Doctor Sarah Newman for her help and walked tenderly and gently back to Josh’s truck.

 

Josh and I looked tired as we waited for Mom to open the front door. It had stopped snowing on the way there.

Mom smiled, ‘Come on in, you poor thing.’

Cory and Amber were playing a board game on the living‑room floor.

Cory said, ‘Hi Mom… I just beat Amber at Ker‑plunk.’

Amber looked at me and ran over.

Amber frowned, ‘Does it hurt?’

I nodded, ‘A little.’

Mom explained, ‘Your old games still come in handy, Megan.’

Mom looked at my face, then wrist. ‘Is anything broken?’

I shook my head, ‘No… only bruised. I’m alright.’

Amber sighed, ‘That’s good.’

We hugged — gently.

Mom suggested, ‘You should have the day off tomorrow.’

I replied, ‘I don’t know… I’ll sleep on it. It’s too late to call Steven now anyway and they’re expecting me to start tomorrow.’

Josh got ready, ‘Kids, we gotta go. Cory, Mom needs a lot of rest tonight… come on.’

Cory rushed over and packed his bag.

Cory finally noticed, ‘Are you OK, Mommy?’

I gently said, ‘Just a bruise, baby. It’s not as bad as it looks.’

I smiled. It hurt.

Cory looked shocked, ‘It looks bad.’

Amber reassured him, ‘I know. Lucky Mom’s OK.’

Amber looked at me, ‘Can I put a Band‑Aid over those stitches when we get home?’

I smiled, ‘Alright, but just one. How was the museum?’

We headed for the door.

Amber brightened, ‘Cool. I liked the old dresses and the dinosaurs.’

Cory said, ‘Goodnight, Grandma.’

Josh picked Cory up to end the usual drawn‑out goodbyes and carried him to the truck.

Mom apologised, ‘Sorry I can’t lift you up anymore, Cory. You’re too heavy.’

Cory was unconcerned, ‘That’s OK… Dad can still do it. He can beat up baddies.’

Mom looked thoughtful, ‘Can he now? I think you’re right… your dad can beat up baddies.’

Josh put Cory down.

The truck could nearly fit in the driveway. Actually, he had never parked it there before. He lifted the twins up and they climbed over. There’s a two‑person bench seat beside Josh’s bucket seat. Cory got to lie down in the sleeper behind the seats this time.

Josh checked, ‘Are you right getting in, babe?’

I climbed up into the truck and did not show anyone the pain I just felt. I smiled.

Josh fired up the Mac, backed it out, and away we went.

Home, after a really terrible afternoon.

At home I was asleep. Josh sat in bed beside me, thinking about how it could have turned out a lot worse. Beside me on my bedside table were my drowsy‑inducing medication tablets.

 

Chapter Four — The Water Bottle

I felt like crap the next morning. I rang work and notified them I wouldn’t be in. Only my second day off in just over a year.

I woke to find Josh had taken the twins to school and he was at work. I made a cup of tea and fell asleep soon after.

Josh stood chatting with our mechanic Col after getting a lift from Al to pick up the Cordoba. Col rubbed his hands with a rag.

Col nodded, ‘Yeah Josh… I agree with you. It happens… things like this aren’t that uncommon. It’s a classic old car, the 1979 Cordoba. The car only needed a replaced front bumper bar. If Megan had been in a modern plastic job, it would have been all airbags and written off at that speed. And those airbags can snap fingers. 250 mph they come out. Don’t have your hands on top of the wheel. It’s worse!’

He laughed, but he wasn’t being funny.

‘Megan’s lucky about that too!’

Josh smiled, ‘That’s what Dad said about his car. He didn’t want airbags. Solid car surrounded by plastic carts on wheels. Though that’s mainly foreign‑built ones. I thought about selling it but Megan loves the old Cordoba!’

Col continued, ‘But you need a lot of force to take off that steering wheel.’

Col walked with Josh back to Megan’s car.

Josh grunted, ‘Yeah… it doesn’t make sense.’

Col smiled, ‘It’s fixed and ready to go. It’s got proper dealer parts. It won’t come off again. Unless you want to put one of those little chain steering wheels on it.’

He chuckled.

‘Can I ask you something?’

Josh nodded, ‘Anytime.’

Col scratched his head and pulled an old nut from his top pocket.

‘I found it on the driver’s floor.’

Josh took it — and quickly realised what Col was showing him.

Josh was shocked, ‘You’re not telling me, Col, that this old rusty piece of shit was holding that steering wheel on?’

Col nodded, ‘Yep.’

Josh moaned, ‘Oh, shit!… what?’

Col shook his head, ‘I’m not blaming you and I’ll tell you why.’

Josh listened.

‘It only screws on half a turn.’

Josh pondered, ‘Could one of your boys have dropped it by mistake?’

Col shook his head, ‘They say no.’

Josh blew out some air, ‘So we don’t know how… or where the original nut is… but if this old nut had been on the wheel it would explain a lot. Megan said the steering wheel was shaking. 70 mph, Col?’

Col breathed out, ‘It’s got a new nut now. Modern cars have several. Rest assured. It’ll be scrap metal before it comes off again.’

Josh nodded, ‘Thanks Col… you still cooking those special beans of yours?’

Col smiled, ‘Best this side of the Mississippi River!’

Josh smiled, ‘Now I remember… best this side, right?’

Josh started up the V8 and backed it out. Col smiled and waved as Josh drove away.

 

Josh pulled into the driveway, hopped out, grabbed the mail and headed inside.

‘Hi babe!’ Josh yelled.

Josh admired the happy family photo hanging near the front door. (I had to add that.)

I replied, ‘Upstairs!’

Josh walked up the stairs. He found me in bed.

‘How’re you feeling?’ he asked gently.

I nodded, ‘Pretty good… I’m just working on the drop‑zone design.’

Josh nodded, ‘Sounds good… I’ve brought your car back.’

‘A huh…’ I said, looking at my work. ‘How did it go?’

Josh informed me, ‘Col says it’s got a new shiny bumper. The steering wheel’s back on with dealer parts, so it won’t happen again.’

I sighed, ‘Yep.’

Josh said, ‘Can I ask you something about the car, hon’?’

‘Yep.’

‘Did you find the nut from the steering wheel after it came off?’

I said very clearly, ‘No.’

Josh nodded, ‘Found a jar of Col’s special beans in the back seat.’

I didn’t look up, ‘Is that so? Lunch is sorted then.’

Josh said encouragingly, ‘It’s a nice new bumper. Felt good to drive. Col says that—’

I interrupted, ‘Can we not talk about it anymore. Is that OK, Josh? Please?’

Josh agreed, ‘Sure babe.’

I looked up, ‘Thanks.’

Josh said, ‘I’m off to work. Will you be OK?’

I smiled, ‘OK? Yeah… thanks for sorting that out, Josh.’

I smiled without showing teeth. I needed my own office back. I was still recovering. Maybe a part of me was blaming Josh. He was constantly cleaning and checking the car and his truck. How did he miss it?

Josh said, ‘Bye.’

He left the room.

 

The next day, I felt well enough to get to work early. Josh had agreed to take the twins to school.

I was beginning to feel relaxed when Steven stuck his head in.

Steven smiled, ‘Good morning… gee that is a bruise… You OK?’

I was on the phone. ‘Do you mind waiting a moment please? I feel pretty good, thanks.’

Steven nodded, ‘Pretty good. Good!’

I explained, ‘Just really keen to get things going. I’ve got the estate’s head building inspector on the line.’

Steven gave me a wink and left.

 

At lunchtime, I felt good enough for a short workout on one of three treadmills. I work out every day — anywhere from five to twenty minutes.

Two other women were already there: Michaela, and my best friend at work, Marybeth. They looked a little similar — both the same height, both with shoulder‑length dark hair. Maybe Michaela was a little heavier.

As usual, they were in a joking mood with each other. I didn’t join in. There’s always a little bit of truth in every joke, and they sounded hurtful to me.

Michaela jumped right in anyway with a hurtful comment.

Michaela smiled, ‘Do you think Megan should have gotten her own office?’

Marybeth frowned, ‘Hey, no fooling around with promotions, Micha’. You know the rules.’

I reacted, ‘What? You don’t think I deserve it?’

Michaela laughed, ‘I’m only joking… I’ve been here nearly eight years and that’s only my second bonus and I haven’t been offered my own office.’

Marybeth defended me, ‘That sounds like a complaint.’ She stopped running. ‘Come on, Michaela? Of course Megan deserves it. She’s probably saved our jobs and if you had as many great ideas as she does, you’d have been in your own office years ago. You have to give her some credit. She’s great at her job. We needed it.’

I retreated, ‘Well, I’m done here.’

Michaela continued, ‘Well who knows. We haven’t sold a house yet.’

It was a foolish comment. Of course we hadn’t. With my idea about the drop zone accepted, Marketing and Advertising were in overdrive rearranging things to include it.

I attacked now, ‘Oh, by the way Michaela…’

I stepped down off the treadmill. I wasn’t in any mood for more of her shenanigans.

‘I’m your boss now.’

Michaela sneered, ‘Steven already gave me the bad news. Duck duck. QUACK!’

I shook my head, ‘I expect loyalty from you, Michaela. Or I’ll transfer you to another team. And that would be a demotion. I’m not kidding. Keep your mouth shut.’

I regretted saying it as I walked away, but Michaela and I had ended any close ties a while ago. She needed to hear it.

 

I reached the bathroom. My water bottle was on the table near their bottles, but I took a super‑fast shower first. Got changed and prepared to leave.

Marybeth came to stand beside me.

Marybeth encouraged, ‘You were working up a sweat there, girl?’

She smiled.

I smiled, ‘You bet.’

Marybeth sulked, ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into her. She used to be fun.’

I brightened, ‘Do you want to come over to my office for an afternoon coffee later?’

Michaela walked into the room. We could both sense the anger in her. We ignored her.

Marybeth smiled, ‘Alright… I will.’

Michaela splashed some water on her face. I knew she wouldn’t shower. She didn’t know we joked about how she smelt.

Michaela commiserated, ‘That looks terrible — all those stitches on your cheek. Does it hurt?’

I sighed, ‘Yeah… it still hurts now. I won’t do too much today.’

She had made me feel instantly self‑conscious.

Marybeth recollected, ‘My mother told me about Granddad’s old tractor and how the steering wheel came off when he was on it.’

I was shocked, ‘Really?’

Marybeth continued, ‘On the farm. Well, that has a lot of stories and that was just one of them. Nothing but a loose nut and a few crushed plants in the end.’

I nodded, ‘Can you pass me my water bottle please, Marybeth?’

Marybeth stopped and passed my water bottle.

Marybeth looked confused, ‘I can never tell our bottles apart. I’m going to have to buy a new one.’

I nodded and drank. I had heard it a lot. Her sister Maryjane had bought Marybeth the same bottle.

I hadn’t watched her drink. My attention was on Michaela, who seemed to be hovering about looking confused.

Marybeth lurched forward past me in a rush and began to run water from the tap into her mouth in a panic.

Marybeth coughed violently, ‘Argh… help!’

She spat out the water.

Marybeth screamed.

I ran for the emergency button.

It took all of thirty seconds for the designated safety officer for this level to enter the room with a bunch of helpers.

I ran back to Marybeth, who looked like she couldn’t breathe.

I looked at Michaela. She looked shocked.

I got close to Marybeth. Her mouth was terribly burnt and swollen.

Michaela said, ‘How did that happen?’

Marybeth sank to the floor.

Bill, the first‑aid officer, came running into the bathroom, took one look at her mouth, picked Marybeth up and placed her under a running showerhead.

But Bill was quickly becoming upset and distressed as the water didn’t seem to be helping.

Bill shouted, ‘Did someone call an ambulance?’

Someone said yes, and everyone stood around watching Marybeth gasping for breath while Bill searched for any other ideas in the first‑aid book.

It was awful.

Marybeth suddenly passed out — the pain and stress too much to live through.

I cried.

Bill placed Marybeth into a recovery position under the showerhead and turned it almost off. Her tongue was swelling.

We waited.

The fear of what could happen sent nearly everyone away.

They both remained like that until the ambulance arrived — saturated in their clothes under the showerhead, with Bill trying to keep her tongue from blocking her airway.

When they wheeled Marybeth away with oxygen over her nose and mouth, I stopped Bill as he began to leave. I put my arm around him.

‘You did an amazing job helping her. Thank you, Bill.’

Bill gave me a quick squeeze in return. ‘Thanks.’ He nodded and went to dry his clothes.

They placed Marybeth into the ambulance and drove away with the siren wailing.

Two policemen stood talking to us, taking notes, before following us back into the building.

I sat in my office waiting to be questioned by police. I had been told fifty minutes ago they would see me in fifteen.

Life’s funny. This morning I was coming to terms with the big old tree in the distance. Now I was avoiding looking at it again.

Sheriff Noel popped his head in. ‘We’re ready for you now, ma’am.’

I followed the Sheriff to Steven’s office, with Michaela walking defiantly in front of me.

Steven began, ‘Ladies, please take a seat. We have a problem.’

As if I didn’t already know.

I took the yellow seat around the large palette table.

‘You’ve met Sheriff Noel. This is Officer Peters and Detective Ted Brown.’

It seemed too nice a setting for such a gruesome topic.

Detective Brown began, ‘Ladies, I’ll get straight to the point. It was some kind of acid in what was believed to have been Marybeth’s water bottle.’

Michaela cried, ‘Is she going to be OK?’ She looked very concerned.

Detective Brown continued, ‘I don’t have that information, sorry Michaela. I was here to interview you both thinking it would be along the lines of who could have done this to Marybeth’s water bottle. But on closer inspection… I’m afraid the name on the bottom of the water bottle is your name, Megan.’

That statement brought my head up real fast.

‘You’re joking?’ I said.

Detective Brown continued, ‘Steven tells me he’s heard of Marybeth confusing your bottle for hers before. Is that right?’

I was shocked. Still shocked from two days ago.

‘Yes,’ I answered. I had heard it many times, for months.

I sat back, confused, and my cheek and wrist were hurting again.

‘Mine…? Are you sure, Detective?’

Detective Brown said, ‘Positive. Your name is on the bottom.’

I sighed, ‘Why was there acid in it?’

Detective Brown sighed, ‘Megan…’ He leaned in. ‘Someone may have tried to do that to you. Do you know who might have wanted to do that? I’m aware of the steering‑wheel incident now also.’

I couldn’t help it. I began to cry and shook my head. It was too terrible to comprehend. I was meant to experience what Marybeth was going through.

I put my hand over my mouth.

Steven folded, ‘I’ll call Josh, Megan.’

Detective Brown enquired, ‘Who’s that?’

Steven informed him, ‘Her husband.’

Detective Brown continued, ‘What about you, Michaela?’

 

Josh slightly turned down the radio. He didn’t know the number.

‘Yo… Josh here.’

Sergeant Noel said, ‘Mr Hardy. My name’s Sheriff Stan Noel.’

Josh sat back, ‘Yeah… I know who you are. You pulled me over last month.’

Sheriff Noel explained, ‘I’m afraid your wife Megan has been involved in an incident at work.’

Josh switched off the radio. The fact that a second accident had happened so soon angered him.

‘What kind of accident?’ Josh shouted.

Sheriff Noel calmly said, ‘Incident, Mr Hardy… We would like you to come to her work and take her home. She’s fine, but a little shaken. The accident happened to someone else. We’ll talk to you more about it when you get here. Bye.’

He hung up.

Josh sighed, ‘Ahuh… hung up?’

Josh rang his boss, Al.

‘Yes Josh?’

Josh explained, ‘Got a call from the Sheriff about Megan having an incident at work. Can you organise someone else to take my salt runs?’

Al was easy, ‘No problem buddy. I’ll take care of it. There isn’t much else on with no more snow on the way for a few days. Hope she’s alright.’

Josh shrugged, ‘As far as I know she’s fine. Thanks, Al.’

 

Nancy, Steven’s receptionist, came into the room.

‘Mr Hardy is here, Steven.’

She opened the door for Josh.

Josh came in, ‘Megan!’

He walked quickly to me and held my hand.

‘What happened?’

I couldn’t answer straight away. I only managed a croak.

Josh calmly said, ‘Alright. What the hell’s going on here?’

Detective Brown spoke, ‘Your wife was exercising at lunchtime when her friend Marybeth, by mistake, drank liquid chlorine from your wife’s water bottle. Marybeth is no longer in critical condition — we’ve just heard — but it was meant for your wife. Any ideas?’

Josh demanded, ‘What time did this happen?’

Sheriff Noel checked his notes, ‘Twelve, sir.’

Josh frowned, ‘Twelve?’

He looked at his silver men’s Gucci watch I’d bought him for his birthday.

‘…and it’s after two now. We’re going home.’

Josh raised me out of my chair.

Detective Brown added, ‘We’d sure like to ask you a few questions, sir?’

Josh responded, ‘Stick your questions. I’m sure Megan’s already told you plenty in that time.’

Josh moved me towards the door.

‘Can’t you see she’s upset?’

Detective Brown replied, ‘I can see you’re upset.’

Officer Peters whispered, ‘Should we let him go, Ted?’

Josh turned, ‘Am I under arrest, Detective?’

Detective Brown shook his head, ‘No sir… sorry about your friend, Megan.’

He stood up. ‘I think we’ve taken up enough of everyone’s time already. Thanks again, Steven.’

We left.

 

I sat silently listening to Josh, his brother Herb, Mom and Dad — and now the stupid phone rang.

Josh answered, ‘Hello? Speaking… Right… I see… I’ll let her know… Thanks, good night.’

Mom asked, ‘Who was that, son?’

Josh explained, ‘That was Detective Brown. Apparently an old soda bottle of liquid chlorine went missing from the storeroom and was found in the gym’s kitchen fridge half an hour ago, can ya believe? Detective Brown doesn’t want to see us anymore. He says he feels it was just an accident.’

Josh opened his arms, ‘It’s over.’

Mom sighed, ‘Thank goodness for that. For a terrible moment there, I thought someone was trying to harm our Megs. Dad?’

Dad snarled, ‘I’d harm them first.’

Herby wondered, ‘What kind of fool would have made that mistake?’

Dad complained, ‘A damn big one!’

Josh said, ‘I feel terrible for Marybeth, but thank God it wasn’t you, babe.’

I felt frightened. I couldn’t relax. I couldn’t celebrate.

I sulked, ‘Maybe next time it will be me?’

Josh hurried over and sat down with me.

Comfortingly he said, ‘Babe… it’s OK now. It’s over. You don’t mean that, do ya? Is that how you feel?’

It was how I felt.

I complained, ‘What about the steering wheel, Josh? Was that an accident too? Or did you just overlook it?’

Josh, holding me, said, ‘I think we better go to bed, folks… it’s been a long day. Meg’s got the day off tomorrow, so we should be OK.’

Everyone jumped up and headed for the door.

Mom hugged me, ‘You’ll be fine, Megan. No good thinking like that.’

Dad hugged me, ‘No good at all.’

Josh repeated, ‘We’ll be fine.’

I didn’t know. But I was annoyed at Josh. I was annoyed for Marybeth. Christ, it was MY water bottle.

I headed upstairs by myself, to the sound of Josh’s annoying reassurances.

Thank God I had Josh.

Josh crawled into bed. He was surprised by how firmly I grabbed him, kissed him, then held him.

I whispered, ‘Sorry… and thanks.’

Josh stroked my arm, ‘You’re welcome.’

I whispered, ‘I’m scared, Josh.’

Josh exhaled, ‘I understand, babe. I’m a little frightened also.’

I watched him, surprised, ‘You are?’

Josh nodded, ‘Sure… it was your bottle, your steering wheel. You know.’

I pouted, ‘I just don’t want you to think I’m… I’m not really sure what I’m feeling.’

I rolled over, ‘I’m angry.’

I rolled back, ‘But I know I need you to hold me for a while.’

Josh held me, ‘OK.’

He breathed.

I asked for answers, ‘Why is someone trying to hurt me? Should I quit my job?’

Josh frowned, ‘No… why would someone want to harm you? We have good friends, no personal debts or bad neighbours… maybe it’s related to the new energy estate?’

Josh looked embarrassed.

I sat up, ‘So you do think it’s possible?’

Josh exhaled, ‘To be honest, Megan… I don’t see how that wheel came off. Or how liquid chlorine ended up in your water bottle. I want to believe it’s just coincidence.’

I threw my arms around him, ‘I don’t want the estate to jeopardise our happy family life. I would love to continue the job, but if it’s causing such trouble maybe I should find another job?’

Josh frowned, ‘I… maybe… I don’t really know what to do at the moment. I’m taking a week off work. I know that. I’ll be keeping an eye on you for a while just in case… But my gut feeling is it’s probably just a coincidence. I’m treating it more seriously after today though. God honey… maybe it all just seems to look bad. I don’t know. I think I’ll be around all the same.’

Poor Josh, I thought. He was just as confused as me.

I rolled over, ‘I took some more tablets. I think I’ll be asleep soon.’

Josh whispered, ‘You sleep well, hon’. Anyone comes near this house, I’ll be waiting.’

I was safe and asleep.

Josh finished playing a song on his Martin guitar. He removed his Elvis blanket from over his army chest. Under different things was a metal box. He opened it.

Inside were two licensed handguns and bullets.

Josh held his head, ‘I can’t believe it… poor Megan.’

He held each gun, checked the chamber, fired an empty gun.

‘They were after Megan… Sheriff.’

 

Chapter Five — The Black Sedan

Two weeks later, everything had returned to normal. I went back to work and I was doing fine. Josh looked after the kids for the week and then this week went back to turning the wheel. He was now happy while turning the barbecue.

He was totally committed to his week off though. Josh set up cameras and alarms with the help of a security service. Poor Josh spent hours looking at blank videos. The only excitement was a group of door‑knockers who made the mistake of coming around the side of the house to see if they could get our attention. An alarm blared out as Josh came running downstairs. The group only got to the letterbox before Josh was demanding IDs and names.

The local Girl Scouts won’t be rushing back to Number 10 anytime soon.

I opened our front door and Marybeth stood there smiling. She looked normal. But behind those big pearly whites, there were weeks of healing ahead for her. Josh and I were so relieved to see her big smile again. She helped me lose any sense of fear instantly.

As she walked in the front door, a certain steeliness walked in with her. I was impressed.

Herby and his wife Harley, Dad and Mom, and the twins were throwing a baseball out back. I invited Marybeth and her husband Alex to come and sit with us at the table and chat over a glass of champagne.

Josh was encouraging, ‘Good hit, son!’

Herby agreed, ‘That’s to second base!’

By the way Herby and Harley leaned all over the barbecue, someone was hungry.

Josh finished removing everything onto the serving plate and Herby followed Josh like Wimpy followed Popeye to the table.

‘Lunch is ready!’ I hollered.

Josh was playful, ‘Kiss the wife.’

Josh placed the food onto the table and had a mouthful of beer.

Dad was demanding, ‘Yes thanks, Megan.’

I topped up his glass.

Mom asked, ‘Can I have some more bread, Megan, please?’

Harley helped out, ‘Here you go, Mom.’

Mom smiled, ‘Thank you, Harley.’

Cory mimicked a pirate, ‘Aye… where’d mine be?’

He leaned all over the salad.

Herby laughed, ‘Aye… a pirate, Cory.’

I interjected, ‘Just a moment, Captain Cory. Wait for our guests… Marybeth, steak for you?’

Marybeth smiled, ‘That one looks great. Can I?’

I smiled, ‘Of course. I’m so happy you’re here, Marybeth. You’re an inspiration to me.’

Marybeth smiled, ‘I can only cry so many tears, Megs. I didn’t want to miss out on Josh’s cooking!’

Josh laughed, ‘You got it.’

He used the tongs to place the selected steak onto her plate.

Dad said, ‘Here…’ and gave Cory a couple of sausages.

Cory smiled, ‘Thanks, Granddad!’

Amber announced eloquently, ‘Oh, I do wish we could go away again to the lake soon, Papa?’

Everybody stopped and looked at Amber.

Josh smirked, ‘Actually, Amber…’

He spoke louder, ‘Everyone. Megan and I have got a little announcement. You know that little cabin we go away to up in the mountains?’

Dad answered, ‘In Colorado?’

I explained, ‘No, just up the road. Blue Lake.’

Amber whispered to Cory, ‘Dad told me to ask that.’

Cory giggled, ‘You sounded cool.’

Mom said, ‘Yes, Dad knows that one.’

Josh announced, ‘Well, we just bought it on Friday.’

Everybody oohed and aahed.

Cory was amazed, ‘Really? That’s so cool! That’s the best!’

Amber smiled at Cory’s unwaning enthusiasm.

Marybeth commented, ‘We looked at that one too, didn’t we Alex, sweetie?’

Alex nodded, ‘It’s come down a bit in price since we looked.’

Dad and Mom said, ‘Congratulations.’

I smiled, ‘We’ve been dying to tell you all week. We were waiting to see if they accepted our offer, but… what do you think?’

Mom looked shocked, ‘Brilliant.’ She took a sip. ‘It’s so beautiful up there! You’re both so lucky! When are you inviting us?’

We all laughed.

Dad joked, ‘Tonight! I could do with a spot of fishing.’ He smiled. ‘Congratulations again. The bait’s on me.’

Josh laughed, ‘Can’t do tonight. How about next weekend, Dad?’

Dad nodded and sipped his beer, ‘Well OK then.’

I announced, ‘You’re all invited!’

Herby declined, ‘We can’t make it next weekend.’ He finished his forkful. ‘Band’s got a support gig at the casino. Count us in after that. That toboggan‑run sure is fun. And seeing it’s right in the backyard.’

He smiled.

Marybeth asked, ‘How is the drumming going?’

Herby smiled, ‘We’ve got a new bass player. American Indian. He’s got contacts coast to coast. So the drumming is getting a lot of practice again.’

Marybeth was impressed, ‘Wow!… we’ll have to come along and see you play. Right, Alex?’

Alex nodded, ‘Yeah, that would be OK. And the cabin too, Josh. We need a bit of time away from home after the last few weeks.’

Josh flashed his cheeky smile, ‘Good… I’ve fixed up those two toboggans you didn’t want anymore as well, Herb.’

Herby was surprised, ‘Did you?’

Josh nodded, ‘I’ll show you after lunch.’

Cory asked, ‘Are you going to have a hit now, Dad? You finished cooking?’

I requested, ‘Just let Dad have his lunch first. OK?’

Josh nodded.

Cory was excited, ‘I’ll be ready.’

Amber was shocked, ‘Uncle Herby? They’re my shrimps!’

Herby apologised, ‘Sorry, I didn’t know.’

He put them back on the serving plate.

I spoke calmly, ‘That’s alright. It’s just that Amber doesn’t like sausages. So she has two large shrimps instead.’

Herby smiled, ‘Good choice. Sorry Amber. You go right ahead.’

I suggested, ‘Would you like me to get you a couple?’

Josh laughed, ‘A couple of pizzas?’

Herby looked thoughtful, ‘Sure… if it’s not out of your way?’

Harley was unsure, ‘Herby, we should let Josh and Megan eat first.’

I explained, ‘It’s no trouble at all. Usual job of a host.’

Harley persisted, ‘Are you sure?’

Dad wasn’t worried, ‘If it’s no trouble, I’ll have three please.’

I enquired, ‘Anyone else?’

Harley said shyly, ‘Well, I love shrimp. If it’s not too much trouble.’

I said, ‘Mom?’

Mom said plainly, ‘You know I only eat seafood with champagne, dear.’

Josh finished eating, ‘We have another bottle of champagne.’

Mom nodded, ‘Then fine.’ She flashed a short smile. ‘Count me in.’

Josh and I went away to the kitchen together to grab the shrimp and champagne, while the rest of the family chatted happily together.

We embraced and shared a little kiss. We both felt happy again.

Josh frowned, ‘I’ve missed feeling happy!’

I nodded thoughtfully, ‘Yeah, me too.’

 

That night, Josh was sitting in his truck with the interior light off. He’d just finished giving the inside a clean and was listening to the radio. He also listened to what was being said on the CB radio.

It had been a long day.

He noticed a black sedan glide slowly past. He thought nothing of it.

Two minutes later though, when it pulled up temporarily out front of the house, Josh started to wonder about the car.

Josh turned the radio down as again he saw it, a long way off, quietly approaching.

 

Josh’s Account

‘I had a certain sense there was something about that car that just didn’t seem right, you know. So I turn off the radio and watch it. I felt vulnerable. No gun, no weapon — just my hands. They might’ve been carrying.

I broke out in a sweat as what might have been a man gets out dressed in black with a black beanie on and walks over to the Cordoba. He tries the driver’s door handle. I pull mine. I jump down. I run for him.

He sprints back to the black sedan and jumps in the driver’s seat, close to the road, you know. I had a kind’a feeling I wouldn’t reach him in time.

Back to the truck. I had the truck starting as the car’s tires peeled rubber loud enough to wake the entire street, in a U‑turn away from our house. I put it into gear. Foot to the floor. Thank God it was late — no one around.

It surpassed my expectations. I wanted to match or top whatever happened next. The truck came inches from their back bumper as they pulled away. They took the next left. I like it. It’s a dead end. The one road off it to the freeway is poorly signed.

I’d never imagined what it would be like to take the corner doing 40 mph. It just blew my mind how I didn’t tip over. I think one of the wheels came off the ground… I took up all the room on that small street. God knows what anyone would be thinking as I roared by their door.

I kept saying to myself, “Miss the right turn. Miss the right turn,” you know. I was crazy for it,’ Josh laughs.

‘I was going to hit them head‑on. It was up to me to end this madness. Again I lost sight of them. Then I watch the car way ahead. It goes straight past the turn‑off for the highway. I grinned to myself and said, “They’ve got to fix that sign one of these days…”

Again I lost sight of the car but I know they’re coming. I know it’s just gonna happen. Boom!!! Here they are! No lights. Running like a madman at me. They start swerving from side to side. I’ve got the bastard. I’m lining him up.

His high‑beam hits my eyes. I can’t see ’em no more. It only lasted for a second. My stack of lights on high‑beam crushed his. That piece of shit slid that car on a crazy angle right across the road. I swear he would have been driving blind.

I yanked to my right and bang! The sedan spins around and takes out a small tree over the gutter. I jammed on the brakes. Jesus the sound with the air‑brakes. Hell!’

Josh laughs.

‘Well, I jump out to see the sedan trying to pull away from the tree. It’s got a flat right‑rear tire under the smashed back passenger side, and the bumper‑bar is being ripped off by the tree. I swear the tree snapped back as the sedan broke free and it just launched… the bumper‑bar at the sedan and hit the back of the car.

God damn I laughed. “You bastards!” I yelled. “Where you going? Don’t wanna take me on, huh? You pair of shits!!!”

They turned left and hit the highway. I pretended to plug them full of holes. I think I wished I’d had it on me. Not sure about my rights on the street though.

I walked back to my truck and stopped people trying to argue with me by telling them I’m calling the police. You know. The Sheriff was there in ten minutes. Eventually Sheriff Noel asked everybody to go back to their homes.

I showed him the bumper‑bar on the road, but no number plate.

He picks up the bumper and takes a long look at it. He cursed. I swear up to that moment he thought it was all a coincidence. And me too. Know what I’m saying?

The Sheriff looked at me as he took it back to his car and tells me he’s going to pass it on to Detective Brown in the morning and, “To call the police next time for heaven’s sake!” Then he tells me to go home.

And that’s what happened, Harrison.’

Josh arrived back at the house and jumped down from the truck, finding me standing there with all the neighbours. I was stunned.

I asked, ‘What’s going on, Josh? The whole neighbourhood could hear that?’

John next door said, ‘Everything all right, Josh? Megan?’

Josh apologised, ‘Yeah, sorry John… just a prowler.’

John was alarmed, ‘A prowler?’ He was anxious. ‘Did you catch them?’

Josh looked at me, and I couldn’t tell if he hadn’t thrown someone into the mixer on his truck. There was nothing left of where his right headlight used to be.

I looked back at Josh.

Josh answered, ‘Nah… got away.’

John explained, ‘I been lookin’ out for ya, Josh. But I gone seen nothing… If I see anything I’ll let ya know. It’s not an offence to shoot someone for breakin’ into ya home.’

He walked away.

He would shoot them. Was it?

I whispered, ‘A prowler?’

Josh looked grim, ‘Yeah… come on, let’s go in. We need to talk.’

 

Josh sat on the edge of the bed. He’d just finished telling me what happened.

I said, ‘You know what’s funny, honey?’

Josh said, ‘Nah, what?’

I admitted, ‘A part of me is relieved.’

The look on Josh’s face said it all.

He finally said, ‘There were two of them. Local licence plate. I didn’t get the number.’

It was unexpected. ‘There were two of them??? Somehow that makes sense.’

Josh looked thoughtful, ‘How ya figure that?’

I was tuning in, ‘One of them is close, but I don’t know who. The other… was it a man and woman?’

Josh slowly nodded, ‘I saw the man’s face in the high‑beam.’

Josh sucked in a lot of air and blew it out.

‘I didn’t know him. Taller than her… thin… receding greyish hair. Snarling he was. Maybe blue eyes.’

I listened. We looked at each other eagerly.

‘The woman had her head down. She was bracing for impact. Dark hair. Average size and weight. Black pullover… that’s all I could see. I’ll never forget their image, Megs.’

I said fiercely, ‘God!… I wish I was with you and we caught them. I’d have wanted to hit them a few times. I’ve run out of patience, Josh. I don’t want them to make me feel frightened anymore. I want them arrested or…’

Josh just stood there watching me as I hit the bed over and over again with my pillow.

Josh understood, ‘Maybe you should park your car safer at work.’

I threw the pillow away.

I explained, ‘I do now! I’m in A section. It has a separate entrance and cameras. I checked last week with security. Where I used to park — no cameras.’

Josh nodded, ‘Good… An old army buddy of mine’s a private detective now, you know.’

I pouted, ‘Yeah. Any good? Does he get his man?’

Josh shrugged, ‘I’ll give Spider a call tomorrow and get some advice.’

I was adamant, ‘Josh… we need more than advice.’

Josh said, ‘I know. We’re gonna find that black sedan.’

I was tired, ‘Well, I’m going to have a shower, and I’m going to work tomorrow.’

 

Chapter Six — Explosion

I went to work. Nothing happened. I got in my car. I realised I had had a great day at work. A lot was happening now. It was very exciting with the N.E.E.E. signed off.

The only thing that didn’t go well was Josh’s meeting with Spider. Spider had turned up racing around the house with a million suggestions and not being calm at all. Spider decided to put Josh to the test with some restraining positions in case of hand‑to‑hand combat. When Spider couldn’t restrain Josh in an example, he became angry. Josh kicked him out of the house. He was very disappointed in his old friend’s antics.

I laughed and commiserated with Josh over the phone.

I started the car and drove out onto the street. I drove along listening to the radio, enjoying the wind in my hair and a dull sun warming my face. I felt better.

My plan was to go home and park the car in the garage. The Cordoba just squeezed in. It was the reason I left it out so much.

Josh and I had booked in for some shooting practice with his handguns. I had also applied for a licence to carry, and Detective Brown was going to try and pull some strings to make it happen soon.

Tomorrow at lunchtime we would be meeting with Detective Brown. He had news about police surveillance and other security measures. He wanted Josh to look at some photographs, in case any of them were the driver of the black sedan.

I wanted them stopped. They were doing all they could to catch those responsible. At long last there was a shift in their rhetoric. I was full of hope.

We would catch them. It was only a matter of time.

 

I pulled off for Candle Park and saw a young woman standing near the end of the off‑ramp with her thumb out. I decided if no one in front of me stopped, I’d see where she was headed.

I pulled over a short distance in front of her and she made her way over. I thought she reminded me of myself from ten years ago.

I unlocked the door. She opened it.

‘Where are you heading?’

She replied, ‘Those mountains.’ She pointed.

She was Mexican. She wasn’t like a young version of me at all. I was still happy to help.

I suggested, ‘I can drop you at the base of them on Turner Road?’

The hitchhiker smiled, ‘Thanks.’

She got in. A little dirty but clean enough.

‘I’ve been waiting for a while.’ She smiled. ‘You heading home?’

I nodded, ‘Yeah… big day at work… what’s your name?’

‘Alice.’

I pulled out and headed down the road.

I enquired, ‘Is that your real name?’

Alice admitted, ‘It’s my American name. Do you mind if I smoke?’

I apologised, ‘Sorry… I don’t allow it in the car. My partner smokes sometimes though. Actually so do I if I’m really stressed.’

I laughed, ‘Or I did the last couple of weeks. Been pinching one or two cigarettes off Josh a day.’

Alice decided, ‘So you still smoke.’

I shook my head, ‘No, I stopped. I only smoke when I’m very stressed. Like I said.’

Alice smiled, ‘I really appreciate the lift.’

I nodded, ‘You just reminded me though… I owe Josh a packet.’

I saw a shop up ahead where I could buy some. It was the same shop where I bought the Parker Pen refills.

I began to pull over at the edge of the park across the road from the shop.

I explained, ‘I’m just going to stop here and get a pack for Josh… won’t be long.’

I grabbed my bag and keys and hurried over.

Alice replied, ‘OK.’

I turned around before going inside. I was sure I saw Alice slide over behind the wheel. She was looking for something.

I wouldn’t keep her with me much longer.

I waited as an older couple came out. He held the door. I smiled and went in, going straight to the counter.

‘Hello. I’d like a packet of cigarettes please.’

The shop owner slid over the packet. I paid, said thanks, and headed for the door.

I didn’t quite make it to the white wooden door.

My life on the other side of that door was about to vanish.

An almighty explosion sent everyone cowering to the floor as glass blew in and onto several customers.

Slowly, we all stood, shaking the shockwave from us. Even the man with fragments of glass all over him seemed to just shake it all to the floor.

I jumped. I was used to catastrophes.

Mother of God, I thought.

I whispered, ‘It couldn’t be, could it?’

I walked quickly outside to see a large black smoke ball rising to the blue sky above the wreckage of my burning car. The doors had been blown open. Alice was somewhere within the fireball.

I thought I saw a body in the back seat.

I wanted to be sick.

Everyone came outside and moved towards the car. Traffic stopped. Some cars raced by.

I stared blankly at my car.

I whispered, ‘Alice?’

Tires and hoses were popping and bursting. Petrol was raging in the blaze.

The owner of the shop came to stand in front of me.

‘Will you look at that?’ he said.

Someone said, ‘I think somebody’s in there!’

A barrage of questions and speculation began around me.

I turned on my heels and walked away from it all.

 

I walked up to the intersection, turned left, and within five minutes opened the gate and walked along the painted red path to the office of the Oasis Motel. It was of Mexican design.

I closed the door behind me and stood in front of a young Black woman with earphones on. She smiled.

‘Hello, I’m Lucy. How can we help you?’

She placed the earphones aside.

I politely said, ‘I’d like a room please.’

Lucy nodded, ‘How long for?’

She reached for her book.

I speculated, ‘It could be three days… maybe less.’

Lucy decided, ‘I’ll book you in for three days. Your name?’

I answered, ‘Megan Jones.’

 

I left the office with my room keys, turned right and strolled along the passageway past six other green doors to Room 12.

Once inside, I made an instant coffee, lit a cigarette with the courtesy matches provided, and pulled up one of the two plastic kitchen chairs to look out across the park at my burning car beyond the sliding glass door.

I seethed.

I could make out a Sheriff and two deputies. An ambulance and two fire trucks.

I wondered how long it would take them to find out it was my car. I wondered if that was Sheriff Noel’s car. There weren’t a lot of Cordobas around these parts.

I pleaded, ‘God! Who… who… is trying to kill me and why?’

I noticed straightaway a black sedan roll into the side street beside the park and stop.

I focused.

A man and a woman got out and stood watching.

I had a bad feeling about them.

They wore black. She had dark shoulder‑length hair. Average weight, average height. He was taller, thin, grey hair, receding.

I broke out into a sweat.

I jumped up and tried to unlock the sliding door.

Damn! It wouldn’t budge.

Exasperated, I looked over to see them getting back into their car.

I watched as the car started and hurried away.

They indicated left.

I broke into a sprint for the door.

It didn’t help having my kittens still on either. I clip‑clopped down the passageway to the office and nearly slipped over as I ran along the painted red path for the gate.

They passed by. He was smiling. I couldn’t see the woman’s face — only her hair.

The bumper was new. There was damage to the rear right corner.

I sang, ‘I’m go‑ing to fi‑i‑ind you!’

 

I stepped out of the taxi and strolled into the hire‑car company’s office. I now wore a curly red wig, lots of makeup, lots of perfume, and spoke like an upper‑class snob.

I demanded, ‘Darling… do you think I might be able to hire that red Mercedes over there?’

I pointed.

It was perfect. Especially the dark tinted windows. I might’ve been dead, but I needed to see things privately.

He looked surprised, ‘I believe so, ma’am. Just give me a second.’

He punched some information into the keypad.

‘You certainly can!’

I requested, ‘For three days, please.’

I slid forward my card.

I drove away in my new fantasy land. I quite liked playing the sleuth. I quite liked my chances of finding my prey too.

Yes, I had lost it.

 

I slowly drove past my car. It was a steaming mess. One fire truck remained. There were police everywhere.

I passed Candle Park where I had lost my steering wheel, and continued on calmly and coolly to my house. I parked across the road and waited.

While I waited, I looked up the Facebook account of Joanne Mills. One thing I did know about Joanne was her ability to be on Facebook seemingly all the time.

Her latest post — dated today — showed her happily posing for a photo at Snoqualmie Pass in Washington State with her family.

I pulled my Parker Pen from my bag, opened my little pink book, and crossed off her name.

A Sheriff’s car pulled into the driveway. Slowly out climbed Sheriff Noel, Herby, Spider, and finally Josh. The Sheriff drove away. Herby and Spider stood waiting until Josh slowly went inside.

That’s the closest I came to breaking point.

I lifted my left leg back into the Mercedes, crossed Josh’s name off the list, and drove away.

 

I sat on the plastic chair back at the Oasis Motel. I didn’t bother changing out of my wig. Even the makeup remained. I watched myself in the mirror as the phone rang.

My hair and my heart burned with the intense memory of Josh’s dad’s Cordoba.

I began, ‘Hi… is this Gulliver’s restaurant?’

‘Gulliver’s? Yes, Brandon speaking. How can I help?’

Bingo. Just the man.

I explained, ‘This is Marybeth Silver’s sister Maryjane, Brandon. How are you?’

It was too easy. I knew Brandon. I knew Maryjane. I just knew.

I whispered, ‘Could you do me a favour, Brandon?’

Brandon was keen, ‘Sure, Maryjane. Anything for you.’

I lied, ‘We should catch up.’

I knew Brandon was putty in my hands now. Maryjane was a six‑foot‑two model.

‘I can call you next week. Anyway…’ (I heard him gasp.) ‘I want to pay for Marybeth to have the Star Dinner for Two. I know it’s a prize, but she won’t go there again with me until she wins the damn thing first. It’s driving me insane, Brandon. She’s so stubborn. Can I pay by credit card and you call her now and say she’s won?’

Brandon wondered, ‘What if they can’t make it? $150 is a lot of money.’

I dismissed it, ‘Don’t worry, she’ll jump at the chance.’

I said it as sexy as Maryjane could muster.

‘Make this happen and I’ll owe you one.’

Brandon said nervously, ‘I might have to take you up on that.’

He beamed.

I laughed loud — just like Maryjane. Poor Brandon.

I continued, ‘You won’t tell her it was me who paid for it, will you? I’ll tell them myself later tonight. OK?’

Brandon crawled, ‘Of course. You’re so generous, Maryjane.’

I said sweetly, ‘Oh… thank you, Brandon… I just love Marybeth so much. It’s the least I could do.’

I gave him my Drummond card details. There was no other way. He didn’t ask.

He made the transaction.

I gave him Marybeth’s work and home number, just in case.

I finished, ‘Well… thanks again, Brandon darling.’

Brandon sweated, ‘No problem at all. Rest assured I’ll be calling Marybeth the second I get off this phone. Good night, Maryjane. See ya soon.’

I said, ‘Bye.’

I was sure Brandon was dialling Marybeth’s number without blinking as I hung up.

 

I sat in the Mercedes watching over Marybeth’s house.

Marybeth and Alex emerged from their lovely three‑bedroom brick home on an acre of land and zipped away all dressed up — for I knew where.

I walked straight through the front door. I knew her hiding place for the spare key: under the blue pot plant. I knew her code for the alarm; she had said it over and—

[Content blocked due to unsafe content detected]

I had thought it through, processed it, and seen the outcomes in so many ways.

 

Chapter Seven — Last on the List

I woke up at nine. I’d slept in. I didn’t panic. I was doing my job. I would return from the dead once the last name had been removed from my list. Found or not.

I hadn’t added Steven or Will to my list. After all, they had hired me, and Will had suggested me as his pick as the new junior in the first place. Not to mention the fact they would have had to agree in naming the park after me.

I lit a second cigarette. It made me cough. I put it out.

I thought about the twins and literally punched the number in to dial. It was a direct number to the Mayor’s office.

The Mayor said, ‘Hello.’

I began, ‘Hi, I’m calling from Channel 44 and I was wondering, Mr Mayor, if you could simply express your opinion about the new energy estate being built near Kansas?’

Fingers crossed. I had not sounded exactly right. Her secretary was worse.

The Mayor was abrupt, ‘I don’t know how you got this number?’

I tugged the line, ‘I’m so sorry, Mr Mayor. I should have introduced myself. I’m Stacy Saunders. I’m Karen Carter’s secretary from the Morning Show. Karen asked me to call you for your opinion. There’s a rumour at the major networks that you want to stop the new Drummond Energy Estate. See if I have this right… yep, that’s right. She’s just about to go back on air and as a friend felt you supported its development. I should have explained sooner, Mr Mayor. So sorry.’

I breathed out. My Bronx accent was hard to deliver.

The Mayor thought it through.

‘The majors? Well, you can tell Karen that I am all for it. Actually, one of the main developers on the project, Megan Hardy from Drummond Architects, died yesterday and we’ll be naming the park after her.’

I gasped, ‘That’s terrible… but great. I mean…’

I took a breath.

Wow!!! Named after me???

‘…no alterations or changes because of her death?’

The Mayor was adamant, ‘Of course not, Stacy. Drummond Architects and I are in mourning for her loss. So you can tell Karen, of course it has my full support. It always did. I had my doubters around me but Megan Hardy was a shining light in Steven’s team. She helped convince me too. So thank you now, Stacy. Say hello to Karen. Don’t get it wrong this time.’

He hung up.

I crossed his name off the list.

A shining light? I only smiled slightly, for I was saving the two white rows of shining lights for my family’s pleasure. I hoped.

That left two names… Michaela, and the man from the Red Parrot.

There was no one else, in my belief.

 

I thought about the man from the Red Parrot. Yes, he was old. His hair was receding. Tall… maybe.

I rang Ted.

Ted was welcoming, ‘Good morning, Red Parrot.’

I began, ‘Where’s my brother?’

I complained — sorry Ted, family first.

Ted frowned, ‘What? Who’s brother?’

I complained, ‘That idiot wanders into your restaurant with my dog barking, head‑butts the owner and gets arrested… well?’

I waited.

Ted replied, ‘Your brother is still in the local jail!’

Tom chuckled. Good for him.

‘Sheriff Wade tells me he’s not got any way of posting bail. So if you want your brother back — hell knows why — get on down to the courthouse, woman, and pay his bail!’

I laughed. I sneered, ‘Serves him right.’

I hung up.

I drew a red cross in my pink book.

 

Michaela… Could she be so crazy?

She had access to my car. She was there when Marybeth drank from my bottle. It looked like her when they drove past.

There was only one way to find out.

It would be my biggest test yet — a possible face‑to‑face meeting with her husband.

I knew where Michaela lived. But maybe the hubby from hell was at home.

I parked outside Michaela’s house. Not a sound. No car out front.

For the first time, I was at a loss what to do.

Heading towards the hired Mercedes were two young girls. They looked like trouble.

That’s exactly what I needed.

I began, ‘Hey girls?’

They both frowned at me, trying to figure me out — some strange woman sitting in a red Mercedes.

My plan suddenly seemed flawed. They were about as reliable as an ashtray in the rain.

After all my hard work, I couldn’t leave my future in the hands of teeny‑town.

I said vaguely, ‘Oh I’m sorry. I thought you were the Douglass sisters.’

They told me where to go and walked on.

Once they were out of sight, I checked my appearance in the mirror. Put on my sunglasses. Redid the lipstick. Steadied the wig. Took a deep breath and opened the door.

Time to pitch.

 

The man who opened the door was tall, with grey receding hair. He was Michaela’s husband. I was almost positive I had them.

I began, ‘Oh… is this Smith Street?’

He sneered, ‘What?… Next block down.’

He slammed the door in my face.

I smiled, ‘Strike one, buddy.’

I was sure I would find the evidence I needed inside that house.

 

I drove back to the motel. Again I was at a loss what to do next as I ripped another instant coffee into a cup.

I was almost there. But the redhead wasn’t going to get to Michaela’s computer. I’m sure she could get to her husband’s bed, but that wasn’t a consideration.

I sat there thinking. How was I going to get in the house to get to her computer?

Time ticked away.

Delivery? But what?

Gasman? Electrical?

That wasn’t going to get me to the computer.

I needed to get to the computer.

COMPUTER REPAIR WOMAN!!!

As I sat drinking my coffee and scribbling down ideas, I finally remembered Michaela had been complaining recently about her scanner at home. Michael’s Computer Repairs weren’t the best, she said. I remembered because I saw their electric nerd‑mobile getting around town once or twice after she told me.

I logged into Michael’s Computer Service.

There on the front page was Michael himself, holding his service card out in front.

Bingo.

I downloaded it. Cropped it. Sized it. Sent it to my email and printed it out at the office. Lucy never took any notice. She just smiled as she handed me the colour printout of Michael’s card and a picture of myself — hair tied back, black cap on. I’d confiscated the black cap from outside Room Ten.

Not surprisingly, she also didn’t notice me borrow her glue.

Back in Room 12, I tore off a clear plastic cover from the guest information magazine on the kitchen table and cut two clear pieces slightly larger than the card. I glued the edges carefully around the card and hey presto! One paper clip to keep it in place.

If he didn’t look too closely, even Michael wouldn’t notice.

I was moving fast.

I looked at my pink book. In less than 24 hours, I had reached my last suspect.

I wanted my family back. We would move — at least temporarily — if I didn’t find the killer.

I had been lucky. I know that sounds silly with someone trying to kill me, but in the boot of the Mercedes was a small red tin box. Perfect as a tool kit for a member of Michael’s team.

Plus, people had been where I needed them to be. Picked up the phone when I needed them to. Told me their codes. Posted photos online. Turned up while I waited. Helped print out my card.

Life had caused this mess. However, life was producing everything I needed to fix it.

 

Chapter Eight — Duck Duck Quack

What happened next was the icing on the cake.

When I arrived back and parked a few doors down from Michaela’s house, the outside garage door was open.

Was I seeing things? Maybe I was. Or maybe it really did resemble the black sedan.

He pulled down the garage door and walked back into Michaela’s house by a side door.

Wow. Talk about: come and get it. The rest is up to you!

Hang on? I told myself. Did he know what I looked like? Was it safe now to go inside? Should I just call Detective Brown?

No… not yet. I’d come this far. I was sure it was him.

Could I leave it all in someone else’s hands?

Just a quick peek, so I knew it was Michaela.

I started to cry. I didn’t have any makeup on, just my hair tied back with the cap on. Just like the photo ID.

I took a huge breath. Exhaled. A second deep breath out.

I grabbed the door handle, stepped out, and walked down the grassy slope to their front door, drying my eyes.

Come on, you bastard. I reminded myself. Batter up!

The tall grey receding‑haired man looked at me as he opened the door. His eyes narrowed.

‘What do you want?’

I didn’t sense any realisation in his eyes who I was. He just looked… put out. After all, I was dead.

But this ghost had every intention of haunting him for the rest of his life.

I began to talk in a squeaky, nerdy type voice and blinked often. He had no idea.

‘Hi… I’m Vicky from Michael’s Computer Service. Michaela asked us to take a look at her computer. Apparently the scanner is still not functioning properly.’

I blinked rapidly — not altogether acting.

I held my breath.

He looked me up and down. Glanced at my ID. He was annoyed.

‘Why is it that you can never find any good service these days?’ He groaned in disgust. ‘Again? I thought you guys fixed it last week?’

Bingo.

I smiled, ‘Sorry sir. It won’t take long.’

I froze.

He pulled out his phone. No Bingo.

He tapped her number in.

‘I’ll see what Michaela says.’

I prepared a story about incorrect information. I would head to the car, take off, and call Detective Brown.

He hung up.

‘No answer.’

He put his phone away.

‘Come on in but be quick. I’ve got to leave in twenty minutes. I need to go shopping.’

I blinked, ‘Yes sir!’

I hurried inside.

 

I followed Michaela’s husband past a reasonably tidy lounge room. The next door down along the short new‑carpeted hallway was a pigsty — their bedroom. Their bed was all yellow sheets, pillow covers, and doona.

Into a messy back room we wandered — a small desk with an old personal computer, monitor, printer and scanner.

He pointed.

I walked over and climbed under the desk onto the dusty brown carpet.

Act One, Scene Two.

‘Module A1. Always check the power supply. Number two. Check and test the leads.’

I looked back at his white sneakers and hoped he would leave.

‘Number three…’

I heard him mumble “stupid bitch” as he left the room.

Number three: take a deep breath, I thought.

I was in.

 

I jumped up and turned on the computer. There was a password required.

One more pantomime required.

Michaela’s husband walked back into the room. Stood beside me. Punched in the password and looked at me with contempt.

‘I guess you’re going to need that just like last time. Aren’t you now?’

I smiled. It was genuine.

Had he helped me bring down their scheming ways?

He left the room.

 

I opened two windows on the monitor. One for the Scanners and Cameras file in the control panel. And the other… well.

First I typed in explosives.

Nothing.

I breathed out.

I turned the monitor slightly so he wouldn’t see what I was doing straight away when he came back in.

New search.

Home made…

Bombs came up automatically.

To my horror and relief, there were several pages highlighted as being previously opened.

I took a photo with my phone.

I saw him walk past from the corner of my eye and minimised the window.

I checked scanners.

Wow. It wasn’t linked to her PC! What a fluke.

I listened out for hubby while looking at the home screen, wondering what to do next.

My eyes popped out of my head.

There was a folder that caught my attention amongst the mass of other yellow folders on the home screen.

It simply said:

Megan

I finally closed my mouth and dragged the mouse over to it and double‑clicked.

Strangely enough, it didn’t make me instantly happy to have caught her in the act.

It made me nervous.

The way she wrote about me was terrible. The amount of hate sickened me.

It read:

Megan didn’t die from the steering wheel coming off. Duck duck duck. That took Craig and me all day to pull off. She looks so stupid with her cut face anyway. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Quack quack quack. She didn’t die from the chlorine. Poor Marybeth. She got in the way. How annoying. I just want to blow her up! I’ll blow her up!!!!!!!!!! Duck duck duck duck duck duck duck! I’ll blow her up! Duck duck duck! I blew her up! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!!!! Duck duck duck duck duck duck! I’ll have her job. Duck duck duck. I’ll have her office. Quack quack quack. I’ll be there at your funeral. Quack quack quack!!! No more Megan. Oh here, let me toss a duck feather into your grave and waddle away.

I stepped back and took a photo with my phone.

I remembered her quacks and ducks.

Sick, bitch.

 

Craig said, ‘Did you fix it?… Hey?’

I looked up.

With a quick breath I covered a million emotions.

I leaned forward to close the folder.

He walked quickly over and turned the monitor about.

Craig demanded, ‘What’s this crap?’

I brightened, ‘I found the problem. As you can see here.’

I pointed—

‘The default was set to the wrong model scanner. Simple really. But I had to go through the normal practice of eradication. Company policy, yes… policy one‑A.’

I blink. I really, really didn’t want to blink.

Craig leaned over me.

‘I expect there’s no charge with this service. Or I’ll give you a one‑star review.’

He snarled.

My knee itched to land, you know where.

I was determined.

‘Nothing, sir… free of charge. Just a follow‑up service already covered by your wife’s previous visit.’

Craig was no gentleman.

‘Good. Now grab your little red box and go.’

I picked up the red toolbox and followed him to the front door. I passed him a receipt book. He dated it, signed it, and filled in his details.

As I tried to squeeze past, he pinched my bum.

I couldn’t hide the shock on my face.

Craig leaned forward.

‘We’re not married, you know.’ He winked.

I replied, ‘I’m a lesbian, sir. Goodbye.’

I turned and walked out the door.

He slammed it behind me.

He shouted, ‘Fuck you!’

Strike three, you shit.

 

I watched Craig make his way to the outside garage from within the Mercedes. He opened the garage door and out of the darkness came a black sedan.

He jumped out. Checked the bumper. Closed the garage door. Then checked the new rear wheel and drove off.

I ducked down as he went past.

I whispered, ‘I like ducks.’

I began to laugh. I was so proud of myself.

I stayed lying down. I smiled and made two excited fists and repeatedly bounced them up and down on the seat.

‘I found you. I found you. I found you. I found you… YES!!!’

I sat back up and checked the mirrors. The coast was clear.

I sat there for a minute in a state of euphoria. Beaten and bruised. Dead tired. But I was a survivor.

I thought about the actions I would soon take to send Michaela’s life down the drain‑hole.

I felt like me again.

It wasn’t in my imagination. It wasn’t a coincidence. It was Michaela and Craig.

 

I called an escort agency. I wanted revenge and justice. I guess that’s just the way I felt. Who I am.

I winced.

‘So you want a bit extra, do ya Craig? Here… let me help.’

I rang an escort.

I began, ‘Hi Cindy. It’s my hubby’s birthday today. Can you make a house call today?… Thirty minutes?…’

I laughed.

‘Yes, I can pay for it now… Just let him know you’re from Michael’s Computer Service. He likes a good service.’

She laughed.

I shook my head then cackled.

I paid, gave an address, then disconnected.

 

I looked out the window at the house.

Next, call Craig. Yuck.

Craig answered, ‘Yeah, who’s this?’

Poor Craig. So many questions.

Act Two, Scene One.

‘Hi, it’s Vicky. I was just fixing your scanner. You know, I was thinking… maybe I would like to sleep with you. Just once. I have to know. I got excited when you pinched me. Maybe I could meet you back at your place in twenty minutes. I can’t stop wondering about it.’

I put my hand over my eyes. Yuck.

Craig grunted, ‘I’m at the shops… yeah… I’ll be back by then. I’ll show you how it feels, girl… yeah, I’ll show ya alright. Mmmm.’

Double wince.

‘Oh good. I’m ready to learn my lesson soon. Bye.’

I hung up.

Done. Scared, but done.

I would heal.

 

Next… Michaela.

This was easier than I thought. Just mind‑blowing all the same.

I knew her direct line. It wasn’t lunchtime yet.

I called.

A woman answered, ‘Michaela’s phone?’

I adjusted.

‘Hi, is Michaela away today?’

She said, ‘No, just nature calling. Ah, here she comes now!’

I listened. I was sure it must be the new junior.

The junior said, ‘Phone call for you, Michaela!’

Michaela spoke, ‘Hello?’

I saw her sitting at her desk in my mind. Looking pleased with herself. Just like nothing had happened.

But it had.

She had killed Alice. She had poisoned Marybeth. She had attempted to kill me three times.

She sounded happy.

It was time to take this person out of society.

But first, it was duck season.

I began,

‘I’m so sorry to tell you this, Mrs Adams. Seeing I’m just one of the many. But your husband is home in bed right now with another woman. Bastard!’

Michaela demanded, ‘Who the hell is this?’

I smiled.

‘Just the woman who lies on your yellow sheets and doona and gives your man what he really needs!’

I heard her gasp.

Oh how sweet the sound of revenge.

I fired again,

‘So many promises. How could he?… If you get there in the next half‑an‑hour…’

I breathed deeply.

‘…you just might catch my stud Craig in the act… Bastard!’

I meant it.

I hung up.

 

I needed a coffee. I needed a shrink. I needed my family. I needed to keep going.

I drove to my favourite coffee drive‑through. I ordered a Caramel Silk and waited in line.

The young girl looked at me. She knew my face but not my name.

She smiled, ‘Hey. How are you doing today?’

I nodded, ‘Fine thanks. How are you?’

I needed to listen to a normal person.

She kept smiling, ‘I’m having the best day today. Not too busy. Everything’s working and yeah… pretty good. Not like last week. Isn’t it good how things can get better?’

I smiled as she handed me my coffee.

I agreed, ‘You’re absolutely right… Bye!’

She smiled, ‘See you later!’

 

I parked up in the weak sunlight in an infrequently used parking area of the shops and ducked as Craig drove past.

Whoops. These shops.

He kept going and headed out of sight.

Phew. That was too close.

It sparked me into action.

I pulled my phone out of my handbag, swiping the screen and tapping in my password with the first finger of my left hand.

I noticed my nail — then my nails. They looked in bad need of more nail polish.

I also noticed the battery on my phone was nearly flat.

I pulled my charger out of my handbag and plugged it into the cigarette lighter.

Was there nothing lighters couldn’t do?

I fetched my pink book from my handbag. I gave Michaela’s name a big tick.

I turned the page and punched in the number I read into my phone.

 

I began, ‘Can I talk to Detective Brown please?’

I knew it was his personal line.

Detective Brown said, ‘Speaking. Lucky you caught me. I was just leaving.’

I nodded, ‘Hi, I’m hoping you could help me?’

Detective Brown chuckled, ‘I’ll try.’

I asked, ‘I know what kind of bomb was used to blow up Megan Hardy’s car. It was a timing device. Correct?’

Detective Brown coughed, ‘Just a moment please. Some water for my cough.’

I could picture him swinging his finger about for a trace on my number.

Then I heard him whisper, ‘Trace this call, Peter.’

He returned, ‘Sorry about that… ah… it was a timing device. Who am I speaking to?’

I kept going.

‘I’m an angry friend of Megan’s who decided to carry out a little detective work of their own.’

Detective Brown said, ‘Right?’

I continued,

‘We found several searches on the internet at the home of Michaela Adams on how to make a homemade bomb, dated seven days before the explosion which killed Megan Hardy.’

Detective Brown sat back.

‘Ah, refresh my memory. I recall the name but can’t picture her face.’

I informed him,

‘She was beaten to promotion by Megan Hardy at Drummond Architecture. She was present when Marybeth drank the liquid chlorine from Megan’s water bottle. I also know she is on her way home right now to 9 Naval Street, Candle Park. I have taken photos of her computer about bomb‑making and a personal folder titled “Megan”. In this folder she states she attempted to murder Megan by loosening her steering wheel, poisoning her with liquid chlorine, and laughing at her success in blowing her up in her car. That’s murder, Detective Brown.’

Detective Brown grunted, ‘I’m listening.’

I continued,

‘She also received emails and products from the bomb‑making sites and a timing device delivered to her address. I think if you take a closer look, you might find who and what you’re looking for. And the black sedan without the back bumper — that’s in your possession from Sheriff Noel? That’s parked in her garage. It’s registered in her husband’s name. She killed Megan Hardy with her husband Craig’s help!’

Detective Brown frowned, ‘Who is this? Are you a PD?’

I smiled, ‘I’m a private detective… when I need to be. So Detective Brown, do I need to tell you her address again?’

There was a pause. He was silent a moment.

‘I have it on file here in front of me. 9 Naval Street, right?’

I silently breathed out.

‘That’s it.’

Detective Brown coughed, ‘I think we might have the time to pay a little visit to Michaela Adams’s home right now. Thanks. Oh… if I find what you say I’m going to find at her home, I’m going to have to meet you at some stage. How do I know you didn’t plant it to frame her?’

I was Megan Hardy.

‘A confession. I have every intention of meeting you, Detective, as early as tomorrow. That’s it for now. Thanks for hearing me out.’

I disconnected.

 

I took a sip of coffee and drove back to Michaela’s house.

A little yellow car in front of me took six turns like me. It was the escort.

I watched Cindy walk the long way around to the front door so her high heels didn’t get stuck in the soggy grass.

Craig swung the door back. I watched her laugh and stroke his arm.

Just another friendly member of Michael’s team, I thought.

He showed her in. The door closed.

As if on cue — and to my utter delight — Michaela jumped out of the erratic blue car which lurched to a stop ten minutes later near the front door.

She thrust the key into the door and charged inside.

I could hear the muffled yelling and shouting from here.

Not your day, is it Michaela.

No longer than two minutes later, law‑enforcement vehicles drove all over the front yard and stormed the entrances.

It looked great.

Detective Brown waited at the front door with Sheriff Noel. He was let inside by Michaela. They marched inside, then marched outside to the garage with Craig. They took one look at the rear damage and returned inside.

Cindy now came out, head down, arms folded, and drove away in a hurry.

And yes — Yippee!

Twenty minutes later, in handcuffs, Michaela and Craig were driven away in separate cars. She also had her head down. Craig had been complaining.

I had seen enough.

The party was over.

Now mine was about to begin.

 

Chapter Nine — Tell Them

The red Mercedes lurched to a halt in the driveway of my family’s home.

I was back.

Yay!

I ran for the door and knocked.

No answer. So much for surprise!

I brought out my keys and let myself in. I was exhilarated.

‘I’m here! I’m back! Josh? Cory? Amber?’

I listened.

I went out to the back garden. There was no one home.

The next thing I did may seem strange to some. I kicked off the kittens (at last), and had a quick familiar shower. I changed into blue jeans and a long green sloppy‑Joe over a T‑shirt. Pink socks, white sneakers, brushed my teeth, and headed back down to the kitchen with my handbag.

I didn’t care what I was wearing. I just wanted to be clean for them.

You’d think I would be calling Josh now, right? Damn straight.

I called. No answer.

I called again. It rang out.

I was so frustrated. After all I’d been through — finally coming home — and no family, which I desperately needed to cling to.

I breathed out.

I looked at a photograph of Josh and me, when the twins were one and we were broke.

Three rings!!!

I called. Josh’s phone rang three times. I hung up.

I waited thirty seconds.

I called. Josh’s phone rang again three times. I hung up.

I waited thirty seconds.

One more try, then off to Mom and Dad’s.

I called.

One… two…

Josh answered.

‘If only it was you, babe.’

He sounded terrible. But I was so relieved to hear his voice — and to make his wish come true.

I hesitated.

‘Hi Josh honey. I’m sorry to scare you. But I’m not dead!’

Josh freaked out.

‘Holy shit! Megan? Megan?’

I stayed calm.

‘Yes baby, it’s me!’

Josh gasped.

‘WHAT???’

I heard him fall over. I thought he’d passed out. He’d fallen off the couch.

‘Megan? That really you, hon’?’

I cried.

‘It’s really me!’

Josh cried.

‘OH MY GOD!!! Megan? Megan…’

There were a LOT of tears.

I smiled, ‘I found them, hon’.’

Josh cried, ‘Who did you find?’

I explained,

‘It was Michaela and her husband Craig who tried to kill me!’

Josh groaned.

‘But your burnt‑out car? There was a body inside. A woman’s body.’

Josh broke down.

I waited.

Eventually he sat down and wiped his eyes.

I was happy again.

Josh whispered, ‘Oh… oh I’m sorry.’

I smiled, ‘Don’t be sorry.’

Josh added, ‘My God hon’… I feel like shit. I drank a whole bottle of scotch last night.’

I laughed, ‘You hate scotch!’

Josh smiled, ‘I do… argh…’

We laughed.

Josh exhaled, ‘Tell me hon’. I’m listening, babe. Am I dreaming? Tell me you’re real again!’

I grinned, ‘You’re not dreaming. I’m real!’

Josh frowned, ‘Tell me what the hell happened. Tell me. Tell me for God’s sakes tell me…’

Yes, poor Josh had lost it too.

It was time to talk.

 

I explained,

‘OK. I’ll tell you. I was driving home after work.’

I wiped my eyes.

‘Sorry Josh, this will have to be the short version for now.’

I knew he was smiling.

‘It was a hitchhiker who died.’

Josh sounded calmer.

‘Right.’

I added,

‘Do you know why I’m still alive, hon’?’

Josh asked, ‘No, why?’

I told him,

‘Because I stopped to buy you a stupid packet of cigarettes. The bomb had a timing device. It went off just before I was leaving the shop with your smokes.’

Josh gasped,

‘I saved your life! Wow… I’m lighting one up now. We’re not selling now!’

I wondered, ‘The cabin?’

Josh lit a smoke, ‘You got it!’

He coughed.

I continued,

‘I walked outside and my car was an inferno. I walked away, Josh. I’m sorry but I had to find out who it was.’

Josh frowned, ‘And you think it was Michaela?’

I clarified,

‘No — it was her, and her filthy husband Craig. I found a document on Michaela’s computer at her house. It said she had sabotaged the steering wheel. Added liquid chlorine to my drink bottle. And she thought she had blown me up!’

Josh seethed, ‘Shit!’

I kept going,

‘I told Detective Brown. They have been arrested.’

Josh started crying again.

‘Arrested? Holy shit!’

I kept talking,

‘The police found the black sedan in their garage.’

Josh brightened,

‘Aww… well done, babe! Wow! I’m amazed.’

I wrapped it up,

‘And bomb‑making downloads on their hard drive.’

Josh laughed,

‘Woohoo… they’re gone, babe.’

I smiled,

‘Yeah hon’. It’s over. It’s over and I’m home.’

Josh beamed,

‘You’re there right now?’

I coughed,

‘Standing in the kitchen.’

Josh said,

‘We’re at the cabin. All of us.’

I cried,

‘Where’s my babies?’

Josh cried,

‘They’re out walking around the lake with Mom and Dad. Hell hon’, we’re all a mess! Amber refuses to cooperate!’

I gasped.

‘Cory won’t talk!’

I cringed.

I said to Josh,

‘Tell them.’

Josh repeated,

‘Tell them?’

I confirmed,

‘Tell them Mommy’s back. Tell them I’m driving up, Josh. Tell them I’m on my way. I’ll be there in one hour.’

Josh moaned,

‘Oh… how wonderful. OK. I’m going to run right up to them now and tell them!’

I smiled,

‘Bye Josh honey. See you soon.’

Josh said,

‘I love you!’

I smiled,

‘I love you!’

Josh said,

‘Bye.’

I laughed,

‘Go on Josh.’

I laughed some more,

‘Go!’

Josh giggled,

‘OK. I’m really going this time.’

I waited.

‘You gone?…’

Josh laughed,

‘I can’t. I can’t put down the phone.’

I smiled,

‘Take it with you.’

Josh nodded,

‘OK. I’ve just got to get my boots and a T‑shirt on.’

I smiled,

‘Ah huh.’

 

I stood up and went to sit down in my comfy lounge chair. I held the phone against my ear and curled into the soft blue fabric. I felt gentle. A mother sitting, waiting. Just me, a gentle smile, and a constant drip from my watering eyes.

Josh informed me,

‘Tied on my boots. OK… I’m going to my drawer.’

He sang,

‘I’m going to my draaaaaw!’

I suggested,

‘Can you see your new Red Parrot T‑shirt I bought you?’

Josh said,

‘I’m putting it on now. I’m running for the door. Opening the door. Running now!’

I felt love for the sound of Josh’s breathtaking journey.

‘I can see them. Hey? Cory? Amber? Mom, Dad?… They can’t hear me yet… Tell me I’m not dreaming, hon’?’

I said,

‘You’re not, Josh. I’m with you. I’m with you all the way!’

Josh hollered,

‘Woohoo… Good morning!’

I laughed,

‘Who was that?’

Josh laughed,

‘Hell, I don’t know. I don’t care… Hey? Hey? Cory?… He heard me, babe. He’s watching. They’ve got no idea… Hey?… He’s telling Amber. Cory’s pointing at me. I’m waving. I’m waving… They’re all looking now… They’re walking towards me, babe!’

I was bawling.

‘Don’t stop, Josh.’

Josh hollered,

‘Hey? It’s Mom… She’s back! I don’t think they can hear me. Oh, I just heard Cory’s voice. He said “What?”’

Cory asked again,

‘What is it, Dad?’

Josh yelled,

‘Mom… she’s on the phone!’

Cory screamed,

‘Mom?’

Mom said,

‘Cory?’

Dad held Mom.

Amber looked astonished.

‘Cory? Cory? Dad’s saying it’s Mom!’

Dad said,

‘Holy mother of God!’

Mom shouted,

‘MEGAN?’

Josh relayed,

‘I’m almost there, babe.’

I was waiting.

I heard the twins clearly now.

Amber shouted,

‘Mom? Mom?’

Josh said,

‘Here… here, Cory… it’s Mom!’

Cory’s voice reached my ears,

‘Mom, is it really you?’

I said,

‘Hi baby.’

Cory screamed,

‘Mom! Mom oh…’

Josh explained,

‘He’s crying… here comes Amber!…’

Amber shouted,

‘Mom?’

I smiled,

‘Hi Amber. I’m back. Sorry for leaving. Do you forgive me?’

Amber cried,

‘Always Mom. Oh Mom. I’m so relieved. I don’t understand?’

I said gently,

‘I’ll explain soon.’

Amber sniffed,

‘Ok.’ She whispered.

Mom asked,

‘Daughter?’

I said gently,

‘Hi Mom.’

Mom cried,

‘Oh thank goodness. Oh Josh. How can this be?’

Dad spoke,

‘Megan?’

I said,

‘Hi Dad. I’ve missed you.’

I could hear Dad crying. He couldn’t speak.

Mom said,

‘My darling girl. Josh has told me a little. Where are you?’

I said,

‘I’m about to leave and come up to the cabin. I’ll be about an hour. I’m hanging up. I want to see all of your faces. OK?’

Mom replied,

‘Of course.’

Mom laughed,

‘I love you!’

It was the first time Mom had said those words to me in years.

I smiled,

‘I love you, Mom.’

 

I put my phone in my handbag. I looked in the mirror. My eyes were red from crying, yet I looked relaxed.

I was happy to see me again.

I locked the door behind me. Walked to the car, opened it, and slid down into my seat.

I reversed out safely and headed for the mountains.

I decided to go a different way. I didn’t want to pass by where the car had exploded. Not yet.

The road passed freely and easily under my wheels. The snow looked fabulous on the distant mountains.

I headed on.

I passed a hitchhiker on the way. Another woman. She looked at me like, why didn’t you stop?

I knew why I didn’t stop. Not yet. Maybe never again.

I turned off the highway and saw more snow on the side of the road as I continued.

Eventually I came down the road that led to the cabins. Here, snow was on the road. Snow rested heavily on the branches throughout the forest, and the cabin roofs.

I came around a corner and a tree was down across the road. There were several cars in front of me waiting.

I hopped out and watched as the man cut through it with a chainsaw. They all looked content with being able to help.

The two halves of the forty‑foot tree were pulled with chains to the side of the road by two separate vehicles.

I even helped by picking up a branch and tossing it away from the road into the snow.

With the road now clear, everyone got back into their vehicles and I followed the other cars past the debris and onto the cabin only five minutes ahead.

 

I pulled up out front of the cabin.

A banner read:

“Welcome Home Mom!”

They all came running out to greet me.

Their beautiful faces held me in their warmth.

A group hug began that none of us wanted to end.

It was magical. It was my family, and I got them back.

We stood like that for what must have been five minutes before they’d let me move.

I was home.

 

The Interview

Harrison Martin talks with Megan and Josh Hardy about the book: DANGEROUSLY PROMOTED.

With the book completed, I suggested having a quick interview with Megan and Josh. I thought it would give the reader the chance to explore deeper into their personalities, eight years on.

They said no.

However, later, when we finalised the book together, they surprised me by agreeing to a short interview on the spot.

I wasn’t prepared.

I hope you find the following interview enjoyable. I did.

Harrison: ‘First of all, thanks for deciding to give me five minutes to interview you both. I’m really excited about talking to you after doing all this.’

Megan and Josh: [They both smile.]

Harrison: ‘It’s an incredible story, Megan.’

Megan: ‘Thank you.’

Harrison: ‘How on earth did you do it? What an effort to get your family back.’

Josh: ‘She’s tuff.’

They laugh.

Megan:

Coughs

‘With a lot of hard work and guts, I guess. I don’t know. It just happened. I was worn down gradually for weeks before the explosion.’

Josh:

Nods, looking at Megan

‘Yup.’

Megan: ‘It just had to be done. I might have failed.’

Here yes wide

‘I gave it my best shot. I think it’s pretty clear in the book that I was driven crazy. Driven desperate!’

 

Harrison: ‘Did you return to Drummond Architecture?’

Megan: ‘Yes. Not straight away though.’

They smile.

‘We stayed at the cabin for a week. We all really needed that time together to heal. I nearly didn’t go back.’

Josh: ‘Megan and I turned up with Sheriff Noel at Steven’s office. He knew we were coming, but it was very emotional for everyone. One of his staff tried to— you know what I’m saying.’

Harrison:

Nods

‘I do.’

Megan: ‘Michaela had applied for my job straight away.’

Harrison: ‘Wow.’

Megan: ‘Hmmm.’

Thinking.

 

Harrison: ‘They had to change the name of the park from Megan Hardy Park?’

Josh: ‘They should’ve kept it.’

Smiles.

Harrison: ‘I agree. You earned it.’

Smiles at Megan.

‘How does that work?’

Megan: ‘It can get to be quite a contest sometimes. Anyway, I’ve got a scoop for you, Harrison…’

Smiles.

Harrison: ‘Please. I’m not a reporter… OK, what’s my scoop?’

Relaxing, smiling.

Megan: ‘I’m not an architect anymore!’

Harrison:

Smiles

‘That’s a scoop!’

Laughs.

Josh:

Laughs.

Megan: ‘There was too much troubled water under the bridge for me to continue on there. I wish Steven and the team every success in the future.’

 

Harrison: ‘Right… Josh, you were involved in some pretty heavy moments in the book. The Red Parrot. The truck chase?’

Josh: ‘Yeah.’

Laughs.

‘Just don’t ask me about all my crying at the end in the book. You recommended keeping that part in, Harrison.’

Harrison: ‘I did. It showed a lot of love. Any man would have felt the same way.’

Megan: ‘Josh is a really easy‑going guy, Harrison. But if he sees a friend in trouble — or his wife…’

Her eyes widen, then soften.

‘He goes off like fireworks. He could’ve driven over their car!’

 

Harrison: ‘A change of pace.’

They relax.

‘Are you still happy about releasing your book this way?’

Megan: ‘With you?’

Harrison: ‘Yes.’

Megan: ‘Yes. We’ll see how it goes.’

Harrison: ‘I hope it goes well. It’s hard to get interest for self‑published books though. Like I said from the beginning — most readers don’t interact much or at all. But very occasionally there can be a book that really touches people and they want to comment. The big publishers advertise heavily. They know what to do.’

Megan: ‘Well, actually Harrison… an agent has been in contact. Maybe… we’ll go all in if there’s no interest. She says she’s keen, but I’ve insisted we’ll give this a run first and…’

Josh: ‘We’ll see how it goes.’

Harrison: ‘Wow… cool. Anyway, back to the interview.’

They smile.

‘I do have to ask you again now you’ve told me that. Do you wish this to become a big part of your life — to tell the world what happened? I mean… do you think you deserve a publishing contract?’

Josh: ‘Our name up in lights?’

Laughs. Megan looks unsure.

‘No. Just a book. Yeah?’

Looks at Megan.

 

Harrison: ‘Thank you once again for doing this. It’s been a real pleasure. The whole thing. Thanks.’

Josh: ‘You didn’t ask me if I was still driving my truck?’

Grins.

Harrison: ‘OK.’

Laughs.

‘One last question each. Are you still driving your mixer?’

Smiles.

Josh:

Leans forward

‘Yes!’

Smiles.

Megan: ‘He loves it.’

Harrison: ‘And Megan?’

Megan:

Sits up, throws her hair back, looking tuff

‘Yes?’

Harrison: ‘What was it like to see the look on Michaela’s face when you walked into that courtroom?’

Josh:

Grunts, then laughs

‘That’s not in the book… Do you want to mention it, hon’?’

Megan: ‘Hmmm. I came in as a witness for the prosecution. Steven had his lawyers represent Marybeth and me. The judge kept my identity a secret. She wanted to see Michaela’s reaction when she saw me…’

‘Michaela’s eyes popped out of her head. She held onto her lawyer’s arm and fainted.’

‘I later asked the judge if I could ask Michaela why she did it. She had already been convicted and was awaiting sentencing. But somehow Michaela agreed.’

‘I walked straight up to her in that room and sat down right across from her at a small white table. She looked sad. Maybe a little remorseful. Maybe not — as our eyes met. Two prison guards were right there. “Two minutes,” they said.’

‘I put my hand slowly over my eyes in a pleading, questioning pose. I asked, searchingly… “Michaela?”’

‘I gave her a God‑almighty slap across the face as hard as I could with my right hand — it knocked her nearly off her chair.’

‘“Does that hurt?”’

‘And they dragged me away.’

 

Harrison: ‘Wow!’

Josh: ‘The end.’

Laughs. Stands. They thank me again.

Harrison:

Leaving

‘I hope it’s not too much of a disappointment to find that I took the liberty of writing this in Double Fiction. Maybe it’s a relief? The Hardy’s are a fictitious family. This was not based on any real story or characters. Sorry... are you relieved or disappointed... or was it obvious?’

Harrison Martin.