Exit Wounds: Erika Lawson

By Rebecca Zettl

If you lost everything, what would you take back? Hard headed, solitary and driven to a fault, Detective Erika Lawson has been protecting the Gold coast for years. When a local woman is killed, the case seems straightforward. But as Erika digs deeper she uncovers a dangerous web of obsession with an innocent father and son at its heart. And when the killer takes them, can Erika fit the pieces together fast enough to save them? Exit Wounds is the first installment in a compelling crime thriller series featuring Detective Erika Lawson, and set on Australia's stunning and multifaceted Gold Coast. Be prepared to devour this fast paced thriller in one breathtaking sitting. Get your copy today.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rebecca Zettl
• Release date: Feb 21, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386306108

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Darkness

At first, there was only Darkness. Emily had a distant sense that she was floating in it, detached and vaguely aware. The darkness retreated a little, and next came the pain. Deep aching pain in her neck. Crushing, crippling pain in her legs. Sharp, screaming pain in her head. But they were nothing compared to the pain in her belly. Slowly other sensations began to creep in.  Stiff linen against her skin. Bright light against her eyelids. The foul metallic taste of her own blood. Sounds gradually filtered into her consciousness. The persistent beep of a heart monitor. Am I in a hospital? Yes, of course, I am. The sounds of the accident filtered back to her unbidden. Crunching, screeching metal. Shattering glass. Matt’s terrified screams mingling with her own. That sound haunted her, and she could feel tears beginning to run across her cheeks. A hot choking feeling filled her throat and made it hard to breathe. Those screams were the reason for the pain. Some distant part of her addled brain clamoured for attention. The pain in her stomach meant something was wrong. Her tired eyes flickered open. She was lying in a hospital bed. She could hear quiet breathing: other patients asleep in their beds. There was no one else around. Emily’s hands strayed to her pregnant belly, a distended hump beneath the sheets. Something wasn't right, she could feel it. The light that had woken her streamed in from a nearby hallway. She could hear sounds out there, the squeak of shoes on linoleum and quiet chuckling. One of the voices moved into view on his way past the door. Excuse me? Emily called, her voice sounding thin and plaintiff in the hushed ward. The doctor stopped. He struck an ominous figure, framed by the light of the fluorescent tubes behind him. He walked over to her bedside. He wasn’t a tall man, but he seemed from Emily’s prone position to loom over her. The deep shadows obscuring his face intensified the effect. Emily shrank against the bed, struggling to find her voice again. Where am I? 

The doctor drew closer, and the deep shadows on his face receded, revealing a comforting smile. The tension in Emily’s body relaxed. She could see sympathy in those eyes. You're in Gold Coast hospital, he told her. You were brought in earlier this evening by an ambulance. I’m Dr. Cheng, by the way.  There was a sick feeling brooding in Emily’s stomach. She couldn’t shake it. Something had changed. What happened to my baby? she blurted out, unable to suppress the question any longer. A furrow of confusion flickered across Dr. Cheng’s face. In half an instant it was neatly suppressed, a picture of professional control. He consulted the chart at the end of Emily’s bed. This was an intensive care unit, not a maternity ward. Emily watched his expression tighten while he read. Her throat closed in on itself with every second. She had been right. Tell me, she demanded, her voice barely more than a strangled whisper. He drew a chair close to her bed and sat down beside her so that he could look her in the eye. You’ve been in an accident, Mrs. Cooke, He explained. They were mild words to describe all that she had lost in just a few short hours. He spoke slowly and gently, explaining as much as he knew. Emily waited impatiently for him to finish. What about my baby? she asked. His hesitation lasted less than a second, but it told Emily that the worst had happened. I’m so sorry Mrs. Cooke, he said, speaking through a tight lump in his throat. I’m afraid you’ve lost the baby. Her face crumpled, and she shook her head, the tears beginning to come. No. she moaned. No, no, no. 

Mrs. Cooke,

Where's my husband? Emily cut him short, her eyes wide and bright, hovering on the edge of hysteria. I need him, where is he? 

I’ll get someone to call him for you, Dr. Cheng said, relieved to do something constructive. Emily watched him fussing around at the station, talking to the nurse on duty. She typed something into the computer and shook her head. Unaware that Emily could see him, Dr. Cheng rubbed his hand over his face. A crushed expression replaced the hope of just moments before. Emily watched him take a deep breath and compose himself before walking back. He sat down next to her. Dr. Cheng’s voice was grave with the weight of what he had to tell her. I’m so sorry Emily. But I have to tell you that your husband didn’t survive the crash. Your mother is coming to give you some support.  Emily’s body froze. Her hands clutched the sheets beside her in a desperate grip that turned her knuckles white, her hands squirming and twisting. No, she said.  Dr. Cheng hesitated, unsure how to respond.  NO. I need him here! she repeated, panic rising in her voice.  Other patients began to stir in their beds, groaning and complaining, startled into wakefulness.  I’m sorry, Dr. Cheng held his palms out towards her, desperate to placate her. 

I need him here NOW! her voice rose to a hysterical screech. 

Mrs. Cooke, please calm down, he pleaded. Emily’s voice rose to an unintelligible shriek. She screamed and thrashed and clawed at the IV in her hand. She barely noticed the pain, as the blood poured from her broken vein soaking crisp, white sheets. The vital monitor's alarm rang out, shrill in the late night quiet. Dr. Cheng shouted for help over the noise, struggling to restrain Emily. The other patients, now wide awake, muttered and stared.

CHAPTER TWO

Pink Peonies

Bonny jammed the saucepan into the dishwasher. They had a rule in their house: the cook never clears up.  The smell of the ratatouille Jason made lingered in the kitchen, so Bonny cleared up. She had barely started when Jason told her he had to go out again.  Look, Bonny, I’m sorry, Jason soothed. 

Isn’t there someone else who can go in this time? Bonny raged. What about that Cheshire woman? Why can’t she get off her fat arse for once? The plates clattered alarmingly, as Bonny took her anger out on them. Their son squealed and slammed a spoon against his high chair, covering the tray with bright orange smears. Bonny abandoned the plates and rushed to him. It’s alright Ben, no, Mummy isn’t angry, she soothed. With you, She added under her breath, wiping the tray and taking the spoon. Ben offered his father a coy smile. Jason couldn’t help returning it over Bonny’s shoulder. The toothless grin grew wider. Ben giggled and smacked his hands on the plastic tray. The six month old was blissfully unaware of the tension between his parents.  You’re always the one who has to go in after hours, Bonny went on, wiping Ben’s face deftly.   Jason shrugged. I’m sorry Bon. Jane’s not available, and I can’t afford to pay her the overtime anyway. We just don’t have the budget right now. Besides, it’s my business, It’s my responsibility. It won’t always be like this Bon, but right now we’ve got to build the business up. We just have to tough it out for a little while. He placed his hands on her arms, gently soothing her and coaxing her into a cuddle. He placed a kiss on her forehead and rested his cheek on her head while he held her. He could feel the tension in her tiny frame begin to relax. Hurry home. She implored him, her voice soft and sad.  Of course I will darling, He assured her, planting a parting kiss on her cheek.  Jason felt a twinge of guilt at the sight of Ben grinning up at him from the high chair. He stuffed it down, kissing his son’s thin hair.  Bonny watched her husband go through a haze of budding tears. She listened to the heavy clunk of his car door and the engine turn over. She wondered where he was really going. The question hurt so much Bonny almost wished she could bring herself to believe his lies. It would be less painful. She watched him out of sight and stared after him. As she turned away, something else caught her eye. There was a hatchback parked on the other side of the street, a woman sitting behind the wheel. Just sitting there. The hairs on the back of Bonny’s neck began to stand up. She would be able to see right into their home.  How long has she been sitting there? She drew the lacy cottage curtains across the kitchen window, blocking her out. She’s probably picking someone up. The thought slipped Bonny’s mind as quickly as it had popped into it. She had more distressing things to think about.  Outside, Jason cruised until he reached the end of the street and turned the car up the main road towards his office. When he reached the corner, Jason looped around the block to head in a completely different direction. On the street ahead a service station squatted, brightly lit in the evening gloom. On a sudden impulse, Jason pulled in. The smell of petrol assaulted him as he stepped out onto the concrete. As he had expected a stand stood inside the door displaying bunches of flowers. Different sizes, different styles. He settled on a bunch of large, pink, fluffy ones. Peonies or something. She liked pink. He laid the flowers on the seat, climbed back into the car and wound through the last few back streets. The streets were quiet, the windows of the houses lit up from within. A pang of guilt drove itself home as Jason stared out of the windscreen. He imagined the couples and families filling all these houses, while the scent of flowers filled the car. He pushed the thought aside. You never know what goes on behind closed doors. He wondered, not for the first time, what he thought he was doing, and what would happen if Bonny ever found out. She was growing less and less willing to accept his excuses. Did she suspect? Or was she just tired of him being out so much? Jason pushed the thought aside as he pulled up in a silent cul-de-sac in front of a red brickwork duplex. I’ll break it off. Just not tonight. Rustling noises and small animal sounds crackled from the green belt behind the house. The smell of eucalyptus wafted along with the sounds. A woman in the neighbouring duplex peered irritably from her doorway, secured on a chain. Jason could just see the folded wrinkles of her thin face and the suspicious glare of one rheumy eye. She snapped the door shut without returning his smile. He rapped on the door, and it opened, revealing a young woman with a profusion of blonde curls falling around her shoulders. The curls framed a round face punctuated with a gash of bright pink lipstick. She had been waiting. She gave him a coquettish smile and lead him inside the apartment, pushing the heavy door closed. She never took her hand off his waist. She was younger and heavier than his wife. Carefree and eager. She kissed him with enthusiasm, thick fingers already fumbling at his shirt. Jason laughed, pushing her back lightly. Do you think we might close the curtains first? he asked, handing her the flowers. He walked over to the window at the rear of the duplex. During the day it showed a beautiful view of the public nature strip that the duplex backed onto. Now it showed a brooding landscape filled with pale trunks twisting up to a moonless sky.  Leaning over the squat couch, Jason began to close the ghastly pink curtains but pulled up short. He was vaguely aware of her clattering around the kitchen, organising the flowers into a vase. Jason’s attention was commanded outside, an unnerving chill filling his stomach.  What is it, sweetie? What’s taking so long? She simpered, wrapping her arms around him from behind. Jason flinched. His concentration on the view outside was so intense he hadn’t heard her coming up behind him. I thought I saw someone, Jason said, still staring intently into the gloom outside. She scrambled up onto the couch next to him and made an exaggerated show of peering out the window. Jason tried not to be irked by her flippancy. It’s just some woman walking in the park. She’s probably walking her dog or something. Come on Jase! I have to go to work in a few hours. She pouted in a way she probably thought was quite sexy. Jason yanked the curtains closed and returned his attention to his ardent girlfriend. He cradled her face in both hands and kissed her plump and painted lips. Come on then… let’s have some fun." 

She pulled back, suddenly coy. There’s something I have to tell you first. 

Outside, dried bark and leaves crackled beneath Bonny’s feet. She shivered despite the evening’s warmth, and kept up a brisk stride, praying that Jason hadn't seen her. She stayed just a few meters back from the edge so that she would not lose the road. Her car was parked halfway up the street out of sight. Tears cooled on her face, evaporating in the summer air. Whether or not they had seen her was almost moot now; she had seen what she needed to. The only real question was what she was going to do about it. 

CHAPTER THREE

Rest

Emily? Sue called out to her daughter as she made her way through the house. Her voice rang out unanswered. Her footsteps clicked loudly in the silence, leaving subtle trails in the dust. If she didn’t know better, she might think the house was abandoned. Sue knew it wasn't. She hadn't been able to convince her daughter to leave, not even to stay with her for a few weeks. Emily, where are you? she called again. Again there was no answer. Finally, Sue found her daughter slumped in bed, staring at photos of herself and her late husband. A few hung on the wall, but most were on the floor propped up against the plaster. Matt had never finished hanging them. Like so many other things, Emily just didn’t see the point now. I got your prescription, Sue told her, trying to focus on what she could actually do. It helped her to be practical. Sue’s brow furrowed when she spotted an identical box of pills, still there on the nightstand. One blister pack lay beside it, only three pills taken, seven remaining. What’s this? she asked, nudging the box with her fingertips. She could see the other three sheets peeking out from inside, untouched. Don’t you need them? Sue smiled and sat down on her daughter’s bed, stroking her hair back from sweating skin. Aren’t you having any pain? Even as Sue said it, she knew it couldn’t be true. The scars raking Emily's scalp were healing from livid red to pink, but the wounds were still too fresh. Sue could see the sweat standing out on her daughter’s forehead and the unfocused look in her eyes. Her breathing was shallow and irregular. Dark circles stood out beneath bloodshot eyes, as deep and livid as bruises. The sight terrified Sue. She was losing her daughter.  Why aren’t you taking them, Emily? The doctor said they’d help, Sue said. 

I don’t like them, Emily whispered. She forced the words through pain that was almost blinding. They make me sleep. 

That’s good though, isn’t it? You need to rest. Sue reminded her, stroking her clammy hand. You need to sleep if you’re going to get better.  

They make me dream, Emily pleaded. About the accident. About the boys. A tear leaked from the corner of one eye. I’m not afraid of pain Mum. The pain is easier. 

Sue looked down at Emily, shattered beyond words. She wished there was something, anything, that she could do to reach her. I’m sorry Emily. We can see the doctor again. Maybe he can give you something else. You’ve got to rest.  

Emily nodded, vague and indifferent. Her gaze wandered back to the photos that never made it up on the wall. Sue watched her daughter’s face. There had to be something more she could do. An idea crept into her head: a business