Hostage Read Online Free

Aunt Laney when they broke up.
    ‘Miss McCain—’
    ‘Okay, I get it. Tell the man your story, Tully. Then we can get out of here.’
    Sandy
    I see you didn’t have the guts to return my calls, so I figured this was the only way I could contact you.
    I can’t believe that you did it. I know that we’ve never been very close, but still, we are sisters. Obviously that doesn’t count for anything with you.
    Remo and I were getting married in June. He tells me that it’s over between you and him but I can’t forgive him. He probably told you I’ve moved back into Mum and Dad’s until I can work out something better. Don’t bother visiting them while I’m here, because you won’t be welcome. I told them both what had happened and Mum’s furious. Of course, Dad tried to stick up for you, but that’s par for the course. You always had him wrapped around your little finger.
    You’ve ruined my life, Sandy. It’s bad enough that you had to ruin your own life, but you couldn’t leave it at that. Your daughter is the only good thing about you. She’d be better off without you.
    Don’t bother contacting me. This is all I wanted to say to you, now it’s done.
    Stay away.
    Laney

06
    Tully’s Story
    I’m not sure how I got in the car. One minute I was standing outside of it and then I was in, so I put my seatbelt on. I wasn’t thinking, you know, so my body was just doing stuff by itself. Breathe in breathe out. That seemed to be working. Put your seatbelt on because that was the law, and I didn’t want to break the law. The car screeched—it actually screeched like in the movies—and that was when I thought, ‘I don’t want to be here’ and tried to open the door but it didn’t budge.
    We didn’t get too far up the street before we had to stop for a tram. You never see that in the movies. My driver was banging his hand on the steering wheel.
    ‘Jesus,’ he kept saying. ‘Jesus, Jesus, Jesus Christ.’
    The tram had stopped to let some passengers off. There were cars parked on the side of the road so there was no room for us to squeeze through. I tried the door handle again.
    ‘Let me out,’ I said eventually. ‘Can you just let me out—’
    ‘Shut up,’ he said.
    The tram finally moved off and my driver had stopped thumping the wheel.
    ‘Let me out,’ I insisted.
    I looked out the back window. I had visions of Helene running after us with a pair of manicure scissors. Or the Chinese lady charging us with her jeep. But no one from the chemist was following us. A cop car passed us but it was going in the opposite direction.
    ‘Hey!’ I yelled.
    I rattled the door handle as we took a right turn up a side street. The electronic window button didn’t seem to be working.
    ‘Here,’ I said. ‘Here’s good for me.’
    He looked at me. ‘I’m not a taxi driver.’
    We turned left then right again up a one-way street. The wrong way. He gunned the engine and we hit a dip with a thump that compacted my spine so I felt about a metre shorter.
    ‘Hey!’
    He ignored me as he pulled out onto Brunswick Street, barely missing a pod of cyclists. We roared up another block before stopping for a pedestrian crossing. Seemed he had a soft spot for pedestrians, or maybe he just stopped out of habit. An old guy crossing the road was taking his time, pushing his jeep and muttering away to himself. His grey hair was pulled back in a ponytail, his coat ragged at the cuffs. He glared at us when he got halfway across and shook his fist.
    ‘Jesus.’
    The cyclists sped past us and one kicked my door in payback before weaving a path around the dero. I banged on the window.
    ‘Please. Hey, please help me.’
    Only the dero paid attention. He held my gaze as he reached the other side of the road.
    ‘Help me,’ I yelled, as we passed the cyclists again. We sped past them so fast that the lead cyclist wobbled in our wake.
    Then we pulled out onto Victoria Street. And I closed my eyes.

07
    Fitzroy Police Station: 25