Hostage Read Online Free Page B

early. When someone pulled out in front of us, he just ducked to the left and moved out of the way.
    ‘You don’t have a plan, do you? I don’t think you know where you’re going,’ I said.
    It was just a guess, but it hit a bullseye. He stared ahead without talking but the muscles in his face bunched up like he might be turning into the Incredible Hulk or something.
    ‘Why ... don’t ... you ... just ... shut up!’ he growled.
    ‘I’ve gotta take a pee,’ I said, jiggling my legs. The funny thing was I hadn’t needed to until I said so.
    He didn’t say anything. Just turned his indicator on and pushed the sun visor down.
    ‘Are we going on the freeway?’ I was looking at the signs trying to work out where we were. ‘Cause, like, there are no toilet stops on the freeway. And I really need to go.’
    He reached down to my feet and I pulled them up on the seat out of his way. Instead of grabbing at me, though, he picked up the empty drink bottle and threw it at me.
    ‘Can you aim?’ he asked.
    Then the lights changed and we turned onto the freeway. I wanted to ask him to take me home, but for just that instant I couldn’t think where home was.
    We moved around a lot, me and Mum.
    Sometimes we had to move in a hurry, late at night or so early in the morning that it was still dark. Sometimes it was because we couldn’t make the rent money and other times ... well there was always a reason. She used to make a game of it. One suitcase each was all we could take. My suitcase was black with lots of red tape where the edges had come away near the zip. My memory tin fitted neatly into the front pocket.
    ‘We’re going, Pumpkin,’ was all she had to say.
    I hated pumpkin. I hated any kind of vegetable, if it came down to it. Luckily Mum was more into takeaway food than home cooking.
    I’d grab my suitcase from under my bed and shove it full of the things I loved. Sometimes she’d sing to show she wasn’t afraid. But I could tell. The way her voice wobbled on a high note or caught like there was something stuck in her throat.
    ‘Move it, Pumpkin,’ she’d urge.
    There were things I had to leave behind that I dream about now and then.
    My shiny red gum boots, only one week old.
    A soft feather pillow that fitted my head just right.
    A locket with my initials inside that I couldn’t find in our rush to leave.
    I left Bronnie behind in Pakenham, my best friend at playgroup.
    Connor’s last words to me were, ‘See you tomorrow.’ But I never did. I left him behind in Beaufort. I was six.
    There were other kids I made friends with. Then I didn’t. If someone tried to be friends with me at school I’d tell them I was dying and that it was contagious. I told one girl I was a vampire and would probably suck her life-force if she got too close to me. They learned to stay away. I learned not to care.
    Mum used to say it was better not to let anyone get close.
    ‘People let you down, Pumpkin,’ she’d say. ‘They may not mean to, but they will anyway.’
    I didn’t realise she meant she would too.

09
    Fitzroy Police Station: 25 December, 2.10a.m.
    ‘So you’ve moved around a lot?’ said Officer Fraser.
    Tully figured he must have been playing the good cop, although even the woman hadn’t been too bad. She nodded.
    ‘That must have been difficult for you.’
    Tully shrugged. ‘Yeah, boo hoo for me. Like I said, I got used to it.’
    ‘Did you make many friends at your last school, Tully?’
    Tully gave a bark of laughter. ‘That school? You have got to be joking. I mean, I’d have to be desperate.’
    ‘So, no close friends at all?’
    ‘I don’t need friends. When can I go home?’
    ‘Have you ever been in trouble with the law, Tully?’
    ‘No.’
    The officer nodded and wrote a note on his pad, then flicked back a few pages.
    ‘Do you know a Ms...’ The officer squinted at the rough handwriting, then grunted. ‘Ms Bukor?’
    Tully shook her head.
    ‘Ms Helene Bukor is a shop assistant at