Free The Killing Hour by Paul Cleave Page B

them. Teenagers go up there at night in their hotted-up cars and pour diesel over the roads so they can do burn-outs and impress their mates before killing and dying. Daytime and the hills are filled with mountain bikers and paragliders and the husks of incinerated stolen cars, patches of landscape cordoned off with yellow police tape where some poor kid is getting peeled off the asphalt.
    We reach the motorway I was driving down when the Sunday night Old World collided with the Monday morning New World and created the Real World. Just after the turn-off I pull the car over by the paddock with the trees and the grass and the shallow graves that were meant to be. I kill the engine. The hot sun has burnt away most signs of the rain. We have enough light for maybe another hour.
    ‘What are we doing here?’ Jo asks. It’s the first time she’s spoken since she attacked me. She sounds pissed off.
    I nod toward the trees in the distance. ‘This is where it all happened.’
    ‘So what? You going to kill me here too?’
    ‘The only thing I’m trying to kill is time. How about I show you where everything happened?’
    ‘How about you don’t?’
    ‘Come on, Jo, there’s no need to be like that.’
    ‘Really? I guess this is all my mistake.’
    ‘Jo …’
    ‘Shut up, Charlie. What the hell do you expect from me? Gratitude?’
    ‘Hey, you’re the one who was trying to knock me out.’
    ‘And you can’t figure out why?’
    ‘I can figure it out.’
    ‘Really? I’m not so sure.’
    There are only a few cars on the motorway behind us. I could probably dig a grave a few metres from the road and nobody would notice. Or care. I wonder how much evidence has been washed away over the last few days. A strong heat wafts through the window and it smells like mown grass. My clothes are sticking to me. Out there is a patch of ground that may or may not be covered in blood. Pieces of clothing are out there too. I had come along the other night, I had been a saviour, a knight in shining Honda. Cyris had offered me to join in on the fun, but I wanted a different sort of fun. I start the car and pull away, heading for home. Jo starts back in on the silent treatment. When I pull her Mazda into my driveway I turn towards her.
    ‘I want you to come in with me.’
    ‘What for, Charlie? I thought we were going to sit outside and watch.’

    ‘I just want to check it out. I want to see if he’s been here.’
    ‘Have fun.’
    ‘You’re coming with me.’
    ‘Your neighbours will see me tied up, Charlie.’
    ‘I’ll risk it.’
    I step outside and circle the car to open her door. She climbs out and I put my hand on her shoulder. I’m expecting her to start screaming but she doesn’t.
    I open the gate and it turns out I don’t actually need any luck. Things have been taken care of for me. My back door is yawning wide open – splintered pieces of wood where the lock once was have twisted away. I think back to Kathy’s door, then to Luciana’s. Neither of theirs were forced or pried open.
    ‘Who did this?’ Jo asks.
    ‘Who do you think?’
    ‘Why would you break into your own place?’ she asks, but immediately she has an answer. ‘It’s all part of the show, isn’t it, Charlie? What, you came by here this afternoon and kicked in the door so I’d believe you?’
    I don’t bother answering because she’s already decided to disbelieve anything I have to say. All the curtains inside are drawn. Did I leave them like this? The air inside isn’t as stagnant as yesterday, thanks to the back door being broken open for the day. Cyris wasn’t thoughtful enough to smash the windows to let the air circulate. Apart from the door nothing seems out of place. The living room is relatively tidy and I can’t see anything damaged. I lead the way into the lounge. I’m expecting to see torn curtains, the TV tipped over, the sofa and chairs shredded, but there’s no evidence he even came in here. I move to the windows. The sun has