Dance with the Devil Read online

  A thin plaintive wail drifted on the night air. A baby's cry. The kind she knew babies made when they'd been crying for too long. She glanced around, trying to work out where it had come from. Morgan appeared to be unconcerned about her now, climbing towards a darker patch in the rock face. As he reached it, he turned back to her. 'Hurry up!' the gravelly voice ordered, then he vanished into the darkness.

  Alarmed at Morgan's sudden disappearance, Emma quickened her pace. Suddenly she remembered her Mag-Lite torch, took it from her pocket and flashed it three times back towards the rainforest. Hurriedly she pushed it back into her pocket and moved on.

  She was almost at the spot where she'd last seen Morgan when she realised the dark patch was actually the entrance to a cave. She hesitated, loath to enter. She'd hated bats since one had tangled in her hair as she walked beneath some fruit trees at night as a child. And although she knew now that the bat had probably been more terrified of her than she of it, the memory of its little claws grabbing frantically at her head was enough to make her shiver.

  A torchlight blasted into her face. Instinctively her arm came up to shield her eyes, but it was grabbed by a familiar rough hand. 'He's hungry. He needs you to feed him.'

  Morgan pulled her into the cave. The torchlight cut the blackness and revealed the baby, lying on the cave floor, feebly kicking at the blanket wrapped around her. Morgan swung the backpack towards Emma. 'You said you had food. He's hungry. Feed him.'

  Emma was about to protest that the baby was a girl, but it hardly seemed the occasion for semantics. Instead she knelt down, unwrapped the blanket and quickly assessed the baby's condition as well as she could by the torchlight. Apart from being a little cold, and obviously hungry, Bethany didn't seem to have suffered from her ordeal. There was blood all over the blanket, but it hadn't come from her.

  The baby began to whimper, and she shoved her little fist into her mouth and sucked strongly. Emma took the container of powdered formula and baby's bottle filled with water from the pack.

  'I'll need a fire,' she said to the dark shadow that was Morgan.

  'Why?'

  'Because I have to get this bottle warm. If it's too cold, it could give the baby colic. And babies need to be kept warm. This cave is too cold.'

  'I'll have to tie you up first.'

  Exhaustion had sharpened Emma's temper, but she bit back the scathing retort that came to mind. Instead she said evenly, 'There's no need. I give you my word I won't run away. I'm a doctor, and I want to examine the baby fully. Besides, I have no intention of climbing back down those rocks in the dark and risk falling off a cliff.'

  Without a word, Morgan placed the torch on a narrow ledge and disappeared through the entrance. Emma leaned against the cave wall. She wanted to work out how she could get Bethany away from Morgan, but she was too tired to formulate anything that even vaguely resembled a plan. Perhaps after a sleep her brain would function properly. She hoped that Drew had been able to pick up their tracks and was still following them, though she wondered if the miner's torch would be strong enough to track by. She placed little hope on the fire acting as a beacon; the cave entrance was at an angle which made her doubt that the glow could be seen from the rainforest below.

  By the time Morgan returned, she had carried out a thorough examination of Bethany, soothing ointment on the nappy rash that had formed and putting on a clean nappy and clothing.

  Morgan scraped powdery bat droppings off the cave floor to use as tinder, and with bushman's skill had a fire going within seconds. The glow filled up the cave and Emma almost gasped out loud as it revealed her kidnapper. Camouflage pants and shirt were complemented by what appeared to be a full army kit with a pistol and a knife strapped to his thighs. But it wasn't this that shocked Emma.

  His hair had been cut so closely to his head it appeared to be shaved, and the hardness of his features accentuated its skull-like appearance. Huge gashes sliced into the side of his face. And something had blown away the top half of his left ear. He had taped up the wounds on his face. Crusted blood covered his ear and mottled his neck and clothing.

  'Would you like me to clean up your face?' she asked. 'I'm a doctor. My medical kit is in the pack.'

  'Feed the baby. He comes first. God has given me another chance. I can't make a mistake this time.'

  Emma wanted to ask him what he was talking about, but the practicality of warming the bottle was more imperative. She explained the problem to Morgan. He took a metal pannikin from the kit at his belt, filled it with half the water and held it over the flames.

  His concentration on his task was intense, but Emma soon realised that he was listening to every little sound, both inside and outside the cave, with the same intensity. A twig snapped outside the cave, and he drew his pistol without spilling a drop of water from the pannikin. When the unmistakable hopping sound of a rock wallaby came closer, then faded, he relaxed, placed the gun back in its holster and gestured for Emma to hand him the bottle.

  Soon Emma was sitting on the cave floor, Bethany cradled in her arms as she sucked greedily on the teat. Morgan watched, his back against the opposite wall, close to the cave entrance, a peaceful expression slowly creeping over his hard face. The look puzzled Emma. Had he taken Bethany because he wanted the child for himself, and not as a punishment to Tom like she had assumed?

  'Why did you take the baby?'

  Dark eyes assessed her, pondered her question. Then he spoke as though he were revealing something wondrous. 'God gave me a sign. The Informer was to be spared and God would give me a son to take Simon's place. He's trusting me not to make a mistake this time.'

  He looked at the tiny hand reaching out to touch the bottle and Emma was amazed at the look of love on his face. He really believes it, she thought, he thinks Bethany was given to him by God.

  'Simon was only three when I married Ivy. I knew God was entrusting me with him. I tried to be a good father. But I failed. He took his own life.'

  'Sometimes you can't stop someone from committing suicide,' Emma tempered, then flinched as rage distorted his features.

  'He cried when he told me. In the prison. What that man did to him - it was an abomination! I couldn't help him, and he killed himself. Suicide is an offence against God. Retribution had to be made!'

  He had half risen from the ground and Emma was terrified by the look in his eyes. They gleamed with a fervour that confirmed what she already believed - Morgan had lost all touch with reality. Suddenly she realised how imperative it was to conceal the fact that the child was female. If Morgan discovered that, he might feel he had misunderstood God's sign and who knows what he might do.

  'How will your wife feel about having another baby to look after?' she asked, anxious to divert him.

  'She's a good mother, and she has always accepted the will of God.' Morgan's demeanour softened, relaxed.

  Emma took the bottle from Bethany's mouth, watched the tiny pink lips keep sucking. She gently touched Bethany's petal-smooth cheek, soothed back the wisps of pale brown hair. A fierce protectiveness swept her. She resolved that nothing would stop her getting the child back to Mary and Tom. She placed the small body against her shoulder and rubbed her back. A satisfying burp bubbled up, and she put the teat back in Bethany's mouth to finish the bottle.

  If she was going to have a chance to get away from him, Emma realised, she had to make Morgan think that she was no threat to him. In any captive situation, it was always better to be friendly with the captor, and hopefully he would relax his guard. But she needed to know more. She struggled to remember his Christian name, and finally it came to her.

  'Hadley?'

  His eyes narrowed at her use of his name.

  'You tried to kill Drew Jarrett twice, but when you had the perfect opportunity back where we were camped, you didn't. Why?'

  'Once God gave Simon back to me there was no need, so I let the Defender go unharmed. I took you because I needed you to look after my son. The Defender followed us because he wa
nts you back.' He shrugged. 'If you were my wife I would do the same.'

  'Why did you think Drew had to die anyway? He tried to keep Simon out of jail.'

  'No!' The anger was back, but not as livid as before. 'Simon told me how they all conspired against him so he would be put in prison. The Defender, the Prosecutor, the Judge, they all hated him. They had to die. It was their fault Simon had to take his own life.'

  'But Drew had kept Simon out of prison once before - after his first arrest. Why would he want to see him go to prison the next time? Drew won't defend people unless they're truly sorry for their crimes.'

  Morgan's harsh features tightened as he frowned. It was obviously something he didn't know, and Emma could see the knowledge disturbed him. Quietly she pressed on. 'Dario Frenetti had a son. Surely God wouldn't have wanted you to leave that boy without a father.'

  'Dar…the Prosecutor had to die.'

  'You can't use their names, can you, Hadley?' She looked at him shrewdly. 'You didn't really want to kill them, did you. That's why you call them by their profession, and not their names. Because that way they're not real to you, are they?'

  A terrible anguish showed in his eyes. 'Ivy said I was wrong to bring the Defender to our home. She told me it was all over when he disappeared in the cyclone. I agreed. But I lied. I'd never lied to her before, may God forgive me.'

  Emma felt incredibly sad that lying to his wife was more devastating to Morgan than callously taking the lives of innocent people.

  'So now that you have the baby, you won't be killing again?'

  Morgan's large body seemed to grow as he squared his shoulders. There was utter conviction in his voice as he said, 'If I have to kill to protect my son, then so be it.'

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  With the baby tucked between the crook of her arm and her left breast, Emma propped herself against a niche in the cave wall. The cave was only small, arrowing back into a narrow slit that was covered in bat droppings. The roof was high, and the smoke from the fire wafted up and curled through a tiny opening. From the smell and the droppings in the back of the cave, she knew there had been bats there, but Hadley must have scared them away when he'd first discovered the cave. Emma hoped the fire would keep them away.

  The thought that they might return made her shudder. She watched the fire dull, and as much as she did not want to disturb the fragile peace that had come upon Hadley, she knew she could not tolerate the darkness if it went out.

  'Could you get some more wood please, Hadley?'

  He eyed her suspiciously. Emma nodded towards the fire. 'We need to keep the baby warm.'

  His dark eyes held hers. He didn't move.

  'I'll stay here. I promise.' She hoped he would believe her again. For a few seconds longer he held her gaze, then he walked from the cave.

  Emma fell into a deep but troubled sleep, where dreams of making love with Drew were interspersed with horrifying images of him covered in blood, stabbed with the strange-looking knife that had killed Dario. Then they changed to her being surrounded by fire, screaming, and Drew burning up before her eyes as he tried to reach her. Terror gripped her, and her body jerked in denial.

  'Wake up!'

  Morgan's fingers were digging into the soft flesh of her upper arms, shaking her awake. The fire still glowed. The baby in her arms howled her protest.

  'Simon's crying. Do something.'

  'Sh…he's hungry. I'll have to make up another bottle.' Shaken by her dreams, Emma reached unsteadily for her pack, grateful she'd thought to wash out the bottle after Bethany had finished. It wasn't sterile, but if she poured boiling water over the teat it would have to do.

  As she fed Bethany, Emma watched Morgan and was struck by the emotions that crossed his harsh, bloodied face as he gazed at the baby. His brows drew together as though he were trying to remember something, and then his eyes showed an aching sense of loss.

  Emma was desperately afraid of what he might do if he discovered the baby was not the 'son' he'd been given. She was loath to give him the child, but if there was a way to bond him with Bethany so he would not want to hurt her, then she had to find it.

  Carefully, making sure the blanket was wrapped snugly around the tiny body, she handed Bethany up to him.

  Incredulity flashed across his face. He flinched away. She stopped, hardly daring to breathe. Had she made a wrong decision? What was he going to do?

  He must have read the fear in her eyes, because his expression relaxed and he smiled tentatively. 'I've never nursed a baby before.'

  He held out his big hands and closed them awkwardly over Bethany. He held the child as Emma had done when feeding her, and a look of awe softened his features. One gnarled finger reverently touched the small cheek.

  'So soft,' he breathed the word. 'My mother was soft.'

  'She must have loved you very much,' Emma ventured.

  'Yes,' Morgan whispered. 'She loved me. But she died and my father didn't love me.' His gaze never faltered from the baby's face, and she stared back at him, blowing milky bubbles with each breath. He continued to gaze at her in fascination, as though he'd never seen a baby before. Suddenly Bethany drew up her legs and cried, and Morgan blinked, the spell broken.

  'Sh…he has to be burped or he'll get wind,' Emma explained as she held out her arms for the child. She knew Bethany was in no danger from him, but that was only as long as Morgan thought she was a boy.

  Within minutes, three very satisfactory burps had settled Bethany into a contented sleep. Morgan had left the cave, but he soon returned. Emma pointed to the empty bottle. 'I'll need more water to be boiled so I can sterilise the bottle, Hadley.'

  Hadley glanced at the cave entrance, and Emma noticed the soft, grey light of dawn seeping through. Taking a piece of rope from one of the many pockets in his camouflage pants, he came towards her. He grabbed her ankles and swiftly tied them together.

  'What are you doing?' Fear flooded through her. Was he going to leave her here and take the baby?

  'Hold out your hands.' The tender man of a few minutes ago had disappeared. The look in Morgan's eyes sent a shiver down her spine. Reluctantly Emma did as he said, the baby still encompassed by her arms. Morgan tied her wrists together, then stood up. He picked up the water bottles.

  He was almost at the cave entrance when Emma called out. 'How do you know where to go?'

  His dark eyes gleamed as he half turned. 'The jungle tells me. I can feel it.' Then he was gone.

  Emma realised that if Drew hadn't been able to follow their tracks in the dark he would be able to now the light was strengthening. It had taken them hours to walk to the cave, and she wondered how long it would take Drew to catch up.

  He could be walking straight towards Morgan!

  Her heart pounded. She had to warn him.

  She had to get free.

  Her medical kit. Scalpels. She bent forward and eased the baby down between her legs until the tiny body rested on the dirt floor. Then she rolled to the side, grabbed her pack and pulled out her medical kit. She propped a scalpel between her sneakers and began rubbing the rope that bound her wrists against it.

  Careful, she chided herself as the blade slipped and barely missed her wrist. Sweat trickled down her face. Twice the scalpel fell into the dirt as it angled out from between her sneakers, but soon the rope parted and she untied the rope binding her ankles.

  Emma looked down at the sleeping baby. Better not to disturb her yet, better to see if Morgan was anywhere near the cave. He'd been gone more than five minutes, but was that enough? Had he gone back to the last creek they'd crossed, or had he found a closer water supply?

  She picked up the scalpel. The blade gleamed in the firelight. Could she use it on Hadley if she had to? She believed in the sanctity of life, in healing. If the circumstances demanded it, could she kill Hadley to save her life and that of the baby? She hoped she wouldn't have to make that choice.

  Quietly she moved to the cave entrance and stood, listening. No sound r
eached her ears. It was as though the earth were hushed, breathing in the new day. She peered around the craggy rock wall, out across the valley, and the beauty nearly took her breath away.

  Mist as fine as vapour hung like spun sugar in the valley below. It draped over treetops and hovered in layers on the mountainsides. Ethereal light shimmered silver on dewy rainforest. Dark volcanic scree sloped down from the rocky outcropping encompassing the cave. It was this scree that Emma had mistaken last night for a cliff face.

  Which way had Hadley gone? Emma had such a terrible sense of direction that it was only by remembering which way the rock had sloped last night that she was able to work out the way they'd come. She couldn't see Hadley in that direction, or the other. A greater sense of urgency gripped her as she slipped back into the cave.

  She stood for a minute, irresolute, staring at the sleeping baby. If she took the child and went back into the rainforest, at a different angle from where she thought Hadley had brought her, would she be able to hide from him? Or find Drew? Or perhaps the searchers who were sure to be looking for them?

  How could she warn Drew?

  Anguish racked her as she realised it was impossible. She'd just have to hope he would be all right. And she would have to take her chances in the jungle.

  Bethany cried softly, wriggled, and an unmistakable smell assailed Emma's nostrils. Damn! She'd picked a great time to dirty her nappy. Emma swiftly unwrapped the blanket, unzipped the tiny jumpsuit and unclasped the nappy. As she cleaned the tiny bottom she heard a footstep outside the cave.

  She grabbed the scalpel, whirled around, holding the blade high, and raced to the entrance. Her hand trembled around the steel, and she wondered if she could use it. Wondered if she were capable of killing, even in self-defence or to protect an innocent life.

  A shape filled the opening.

  'Emma?'

  The scalpel fell from her hand as though it burned her. With a cry of relief she fell into Drew's arms, burying her face against his chest. He smelled of dirt and sweat and mist and so unmistakably Drew - it was the most wonderful scent she'd ever known. He held her so tightly she felt she couldn't breathe, but the deep thudding of his heart against her cheek was sheer bliss.