Intruder Page 10

  The words brought a lump to my throat, ringing with a familiarity that I couldn’t quite place.

  The chime of my mobile cut in, a welcome distraction.

  Whatcha up 2?

  It was Al. Just the person I wanted to talk to.

  Jimmy zzzz, I texted back. Come 2U?

  Cool. CU soon.

  I folded the Herc Instructions and slipped them into my back pocket. Then I bin-dived my floordrobe for yesterday’s cut-offs, plucking out the least drooled-on hankie and depositing it in today’s shorts. I snapped my fingers. ‘Come on, big fella.’

  Herc padded over and grinned as I clicked on his lead. ‘Al would have meant that invitation for both of us. Let’s go play with our friends.’

  We sat on the front steps of Al’s house, watching Herc and Sequoia tumbling over each other across the lawn.

  It was an entertaining spectacle, one dog flowing with effortless grace while the other thumped into each turn like a square wheel trundling down a slope.

  ‘Talk about opposites attracting,’ Al murmured, his eyes half-closed against the bright afternoon.

  I shoved him with my shoulder. ‘You calling my dog ugly?’

  ‘Uh, no. I’m just saying that they’re . . .’ He struggled to put it diplomatically. ‘Visually quite different. Sequoia, for instance, is long-legged and Herc is –’

  ‘Bow-legged?’

  ‘Be nice.’ He grinned and tried again. ‘Sequoia happens to be tall, lean and long-muzzled, whereas Herc is –’

  ‘Short, squat and shaped like a toad?’

  It was his turn to rock me with a lean, muscled shoulder. ‘I was going to say barrel-chested and stocky, with a strong jaw.’

  I screwed up my nose. ‘Herc is beautiful, as a matter of fact. It even says so in the instructions that came with him.’

  He laughed. ‘You have instructions for your dog?’

  ‘I do.’ I lifted a butt cheek and straightened one leg so I could pull the folded papers out of my pocket. He scanned the pages, breaking into an occasional laugh, then passed them back.

  ‘Sounds like pretty good rules to live by. Who wrote them?’

  I shrugged, sliding them into my pocket. ‘The last owner, I guess. Before he nicked off overseas and abandoned him.’

  ‘That’s a bit harsh. Looks to me like he found Herc a pretty good home.’

  ‘Yeah, right. Poor old Herc probably only hangs with me because he can’t stand being with the evil witch next door.’

  Al shrugged. ‘She doesn’t seem that bad. And you have to admit, she did come to the rescue the other night.’

  I pulled a face, which just encouraged him.

  ‘Why do you hate her so much?’

  Both dogs had finally called it quits, collapsing in the shade next to the steps, grinning and panting like a couple of kids worn out after wrestling.

  ‘She’s a witch,’ I said. ‘Anything she gives you is poisoned. People think she’s okay, but that’s only because they don’t know what she’s really like.’

  ‘And you do?’

  I razored my eyes across at him, but he seemed to genuinely want to know.

  ‘You can’t trust her,’ I said slowly, wanting him to understand but realising there was a limit to what I could tell him without implicating Jimmy too. ‘She’s the worst kind of fake. She pretended to be my mum’s best friend, but in the end, she knifed her in the worst possible way –’

  ‘But she came for you, Kat. When you needed her, she was there. That doesn’t sound fake to me.’

  I stood up and dusted my hands on the back of my cut-offs. This conversation was over.

  ‘Did you tell your dad about the prowler calling you last night?’ Al leaned back on his elbows.

  ‘Nope.’

  He made a noise halfway between a grunt and a sigh. ‘Kat, you can’t just ignore something like that. I talked to my mum about it, and she said that if this guy develops a fixation on you it could –’

  ‘You talked to your mum?’ I stared at him in disbelief. ‘You had no right to do that.’

  ‘Calm down, I didn’t mention your name, or say you live around here. She thinks I’ve finally got back in touch with friends from my old school.’

  ‘But why would you tell her anything?’

  ‘Kat, she’s a forensic psychiatrist! I thought she’d be able to gauge whether this bloke was dangerous, or just a loser who gets cheap thrills from scaring teenage girls.’

  I narrowed my eyes. ‘And?’

  He spread his hands. ‘It’s hard to say.’

  I couldn’t hold back the snort.

  ‘Seriously, Mum said she didn’t have enough information to judge whether your prowler had developed a genuine fixation on you, or whether he was simply an opportunist.’ He leaned forward. ‘Though she did say that you shouldn’t give him an in. Her exact words were “don’t engage him”. So don’t talk to him on the phone. Let it ring out, or hang up as soon as you realise it’s him. Don’t respond in any way. He wants to give you a fright, so screaming at him gives him a thrill. Mum says to stonewall – give him nothing and hopefully he’ll get bored and move on.’

  ‘Hopefully?’

  He shrugged. ‘Like I said, she couldn’t be certain. If you want to talk to her yourself, she’ll be home from work –’

  ‘Whoa.’ I put my hands up to stop him right there. ‘Thank you, but no.’ I was barely talking to my own dad these days; no way was I talking to someone else’s mum. ‘Look, here’s the thing. I’m happy to follow your mum’s advice. I won’t “engage” him. But I’m not spending my life scared to go to sleep. If he comes after me, I’ll be ready.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘You ever see those Home Alone movies?’

  ‘Hasn’t everyone?’ He blinked up at me. ‘You’re kidding, right? You’re planning to booby-trap your own house?’

  ‘Why not? If he comes snooping around again, he deserves a nasty surprise. You in?’

  A wry smile twisted his lips. ‘Kat, what sort of guy would I be if I let you battle the baddies on your own? You bet I’m in.’

  Eighteen

  Al really wasn’t kidding about being a science and maths nerd. Within minutes, he’d spread out a sheet of grid paper on the verandah floor and together we mapped out a to-scale drawing of my entire property, showing all entry and exit points.

  ‘We have to approach this systematically,’ he explained. ‘We have to plug up any holes so that he can only get in one way – and that’s where we lay our trap.’

  ‘Well, he can’t get up from that creek,’ I said, tracing a finger along the back of the property. ‘It’s too steep and the bank is booby-trapped with this really nasty thorned vine. It’s a bit like barbed wire –’

  ‘Lawyer vine,’ he said promptly. ‘Once it gets its hooks into you, it won’t let go. You’d get cut to pieces on it in broad daylight. No-one could get up there in the dark.’ He paused. ‘Which just leaves the front gate and the driveway.’

  ‘The driveway has a remote-controlled gate.’ The evil witch had it installed when I was little, back when Marco had roamed happily across the two blocks. ‘Nobody uses it except Jimmy; the only remote is in his car.’

  ‘How about the front gate?’

  ‘Herc pretty much has that covered,’ I said. ‘He goes nuts every time he hears the squawk of the gate. It’s weird.’

  ‘Classic Pavlovian response,’ said Al. ‘It’s the perfect early-warning system. Herc will let you know if anyone tries to enter the property through the front.’ He traced a finger down the left side of our yard. ‘That means the only place you’re open to attack is this unfenced boundary with your neighbour.’ He glanced up at me. ‘What’s her security like?’

  I shrugged. ‘Dunno.’

  Al sat back on his haunches. ‘You’ve lived nex
t door to her your whole life, and you’re telling me that you’ve never been in her yard?’

  The disbelief in his voice made me defensive. ‘Not in the last couple of years, no.’

  He took a deep breath, clearly making an effort to be patient. ‘Well, do you remember what her security used to be like?’

  I bit my lip, seeing myself running through the rose-covered archway, long since grown-over, that separated our yards. Kindy paintings clutched in a chubby hand. Looking for a bandaid to cover a bleeding knee. Holding a sprained wrist after falling off my skateboard. The downstairs side door always open. Edie turning, smiling, her arms flung wide –

  I slammed a door on the memories. ‘Give me a break. I was just a kid. I’d run in through the garden. I never used the front gate, or the front door. She could have lasers mounted out there, for all I know.’

  He tapped his pen against his teeth. ‘Well, I guess we need to do a quick reccy, then. See if anyone can get to your place, through her property.’ Al launched himself off the top step. ‘You coming?’ He grinned over his shoulder. ‘Or are you going to sit there with a face like a smacked arse for the rest of the day?’

  I snapped the leash onto Herc’s collar and bounced after him. ‘With an invitation like that, how’s a girl to refuse?’

  I pulled Herc up at the border of the two properties, and leaned against the fence. Nothing had changed; this was where I drew the line.

  Al was busy inspecting the evil witch’s security setup, which left me free to study him. He was easy to be with, and I appreciated what he was doing for me, but exactly why he was helping me, I wasn’t too sure. There was stuff going on with him that he wasn’t telling me about, and I was pretty certain it had something to do with what had happened at his old school . . .

  ‘Al, you know when that guy hit you?’

  He shot me a confused glance. ‘Who? Beau Harding? What about it?’

  ‘What did you mean when you said there was “other stuff” going on?’

  He looked away, and for a minute I thought he wasn’t going to answer. ‘There’s always stuff going on at school, Kat,’ he said eventually. ‘You know that.’

  I did. ‘But it’s not normally the kind of stuff that makes you want to change schools . . . is it?’

  He stiffened, eyes guarded. ‘Why do you care anyway? Does it matter why I moved schools?’

  ‘I care because it matters to you,’ I retorted. ‘You don’t even see your old friends anymore. Did they have anything to do with what Harding did?’

  ‘Kat, just drop it, okay?’ he muttered.

  ‘But . . .’ I looked at him more closely. ‘Wait, you’re upset. Sorry, I didn’t mean –’

  ‘I’m not upset.’

  ‘Yeah, you are.’

  And suddenly we’d come full circle, back to where we’d met at the dog park, only this time it was me, picking at his scars. And this time we weren’t strangers . . .

  ‘Come on, Al, you know my deep dark secrets. If you want to talk, you can trust me.’

  He studied the dirt at his feet. ‘It’s not that . . . it’s just, I don’t want you to think –’

  ‘What?’

  He sighed and leaned against the fence next to me. ‘Kat, I didn’t tell anyone about Harding. Not even my mates. When he started hassling me, I pretended it was a big joke. When he flushed my mobile down the toilet, I told Mum it fell out of my back pocket.’

  ‘But Al, he punched you in the face – that’s nothing to joke about!’

  ‘I told everyone that I chipped my tooth falling off my skateboard. That’s why he wasn’t expelled when he cut open my head. Everyone thought it was a one-off.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’

  ‘I dunno.’ He hung his head, kicking at a dry clump of grass. ‘I guess I was scared everyone would think I was a weakling.’

  I put my hand on his arm. ‘Stop talking as though it was your fault. I would have been scared too, anyone would have been, it’s normal –’

  ‘Is it normal to hide in the girls’ toilets, Kat?’ he asked quietly. The colour had risen in his cheeks and he couldn’t look at me. ‘Because that’s where they found me. Covered in blood. Hiding like a chickenshit.’

  ‘Stop it, that’s not fair –’

  ‘That’s the reason I couldn’t go back there. Everyone knew . . .’ His hair flopped forward into his eyes. ‘It was all over Facebook and Instagram. Someone posted a pic of that chick covered in blood from the Carrie movie and tagged it with my name. It had more than a hundred Likes by the time I untagged it.’

  ‘Al, that’s awful. But people Like a hundred things every time they log on, it doesn’t mean –’

  ‘Kat, some of the people who Liked it were supposed to be my friends, posting things like AlexanderArmitage #CarrieRemake #girlstoilets­psycho, like it was a big joke.’

  ‘What about your real friends, the ones who weren’t involved – have you talked to them about it?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’d lost all their numbers. And I was glad about that because it meant I didn’t have to face them or deal with it.’

  ‘So they didn’t try to get in touch? After it happened?’

  He shrugged. ‘I kind of went off the air. Deleted Facebook and got new home and mobile numbers.’

  ‘But, Al, you didn’t even give anyone a chance to stick by you. Your mates are probably wondering what they did wrong.’

  He finally looked at me. ‘You reckon?’

  ‘Honestly?’ I gave him a lopsided grin. ‘I’m probably the worst person to ask. But if they’re really your friends, they’d want to know you’re okay.’ I squeezed his arm. ‘What have you got to lose? Be brave. Give them a call.’

  He nodded uncertainly. ‘All right, maybe I will. Thanks.’ He hesitated, glancing sideways at me. ‘You won’t say anything at school, you know, when we start?’

  ‘’Course not,’ I said, returning his look. ‘And you won’t dump me when you get your old friends back, will you?’

  ‘No way,’ he said, and actually laughed. ‘They’re boys, you’re a girl. I’m sticking with you, whatever happens.’

  For some reason that made me blush. I nodded at the house next door to cover my confusion. ‘You game to do the perimeter check? Because I seriously don’t want to get caught sniffing around her house.’

  He grinned and threw me a casual salute before disappearing round the side of the house. I leaned back against the fence, smiling. Now Al and I were square – we’d helped each other out – he could keep my secrets, and I’d keep his.

  A couple of minutes later, he jogged back, snapped to attention and saluted. ‘Perimeter check completed, ma’am. Permission to speak.’

  ‘At ease, soldier,’ I said. ‘Permission granted.’

  He slouched up next to me. ‘Pretty impressive setup she has there. Intercom and security on the front gate. You have to buzz to be let into the yard. Two-metre steel fence that’s pretty much impossible to climb, even without those nasty pointy bits on top –’

  ‘Fleur-de-lis,’ I supplied helpfully.

  ‘Correct, the heraldic symbol of the French throne, or what we laymen prefer to call “those nasty pointy bits on top of the two-metre fence”.’ His grin was infectious, and I couldn’t help but smile back.

  ‘Anyway, that fence goes all the way round your place as well, so it’s kind of like a two-house compound.’ He cocked an eyebrow at me. ‘Interesting setup for neighbours, particularly if you don’t get on . . .’

  I didn’t take the bait, doggedly sticking to the matter at hand. ‘With the back inaccessible as it is, the rear gates don’t really count as access points . . .’

  Al surveyed the front fence line. ‘So the prowler must have simply walked in through your front gate the other night. And if he returns, that’s still his only entry point. But Herc,
noble beast that he is, has now plugged that gap for us with his operatic barking. So, what else have we missed?’

  Before I could answer, Herc hauled on his leash, almost pulling me over. I tugged back. ‘Quit yanking my chain. What’s the matter with you?’

  Herc had strained the retractable lead Edwina had bought for him to its five-metre limit, and was scratching at her front gate and whining.

  Al ambled over and peered through. ‘Looks like your neigbour’s had a clean-out. She’s dumped a stack of old clothes and stuff in a box just inside the gate. Nothing like the smell of old socks to get a dog going.’

  Reeling Herc in was like trying to land a struggling marlin. ‘He’s probably just hungry. Come on, let’s grab something to eat. I’m starving too.’ I wrestled Herc into my yard, but as soon as I unclipped him, he took off through the rose­bushes, making a beeline for next door.

  ‘Bet he comes back with something totally rank,’ said Al. ‘Sequoia used to suck on my dirty soccer socks. Still does sometimes, if she thinks I’ve been neglecting her.’

  I fished the key out of my pocket as we walked up the front steps. ‘Try to keep the noise down, okay? Jimmy’s asleep.’

  Al froze, one foot hovering above the top step. ‘Hang on, didn’t you say your dad didn’t want me coming round?’

  ‘Only when he’s not here,’ I answered blithely, unlocking the door. ‘He’s here . . . so consider yourself welcome till the beast awakens.’

  I introduced Al to Jimmy’s pastry stash, and any lingering concerns he might have had about his welcome disappeared along with a fresh apricot Danish and a mini chocolate croissant.

  ‘Want to swap lives?’ he asked, biting into a cinnamon scroll. ‘I could live happily ever after, right here. Me and your dad, the perfect partnership. He cooks, I eat.’

  ‘You’d eventually get sick of pastries,’ I said. ‘Like, maybe, in the next sixty seconds, the way you’re going. Do you think three might be pushing it?’

  He shook his head, reaching for an almond-paste croissant. ‘These things are tiny. They’re hardly hitting the sides. But man, they are so good. If your dad ever needs a publicist, let me know. I could make him famous. He could be the next cookie meister, the savant of scrolls –’ He sniffed the air suspiciously. ‘Kat, I hope that wasn’t you.’