A matter of pride

Chapter 16

Dillon opened his eyes, blinking against the dry, grainy scratch of them as he tried to focus on the room he was in. For a moment he thought it was his own, that he was still at home, but soon realised that even though it was set up in the same configuration, the bed he was lying on was narrow, and the walls were blank and faded. He was in another cabin, he realised, just like his, but somewhere else entirely.As he tried to move the severity of the pain in his back and hip and leg caught him by surprise and he cried out, or tried to. There was tape over his mouth, and as he realised that fact his panic immediately doubled and he began to find it difficult to breathe, his nostrils seeming suddenly too narrow to let in the air he so desperately needed. His hands were tied too, behind his back, and the fabric was cutting in to his skin. He was trapped, and the comprehension of just how much danger he was in sent a chill shuddering through his sore muscles. He couldn't stand or walk; he needed his hands to steady himself and the pain in his hip made him begin to suspect that his pelvis had re-fractured. And he couldn't call for help. He was at the mercy of whoever had abducted him, and the terror made him want to vomit, only he couldn't, which made the whole situation worse.He could hear footsteps in the next room, soft, steady treads, not walking toward his door, not yet, though Dillon had no doubt that they would soon enough. There was so little time, and so few options, and Dillon looked frantically around the room, trying to find some way to escape or defend himself. The bedside table was littered with debris; there were bottle tops, an empty beer can, pie wrappers, tissues, all signs that the user of the cabin wasn't fussed about tidying, or nutrition. Dillon frowned in disgust; there didn't seem to be anything of use in the trash. He tried to move again, to take a better look, and a sharp edge on the half crushed beer can caught his eye. It was far from perfect but it was better than nothing and he began to shuffle himself forward. Regret came as soon as he attempted to roll over but he clenched his teeth against the scream that wanted to erupt in response to the searing agony and grabbed at the can with his tied hands. For one horrible moment he thought it was about to fall to the wooden floor but managed to grasp it, just as the footsteps grew louder, signaling the return of his kidnapper. He repositioned himself, the crushed aluminium held tight in his hand, but couldn't stop the tears from leaking down his face at the pounding heat in his leg. He tried to blink but his eyes just began to sting and it took him a moment to realise that it wasn't only tears but blood obscuring his vision. He felt the panic boiling in his chest again, but tried to focus on maneuvering the can so that the sharp edge was against the fabric that bound his wrists. He wouldn't have much time to try and free himself but he had to try, had to try before the footsteps reached the bedroom and he came face to face again with his kidnapper."Aw, mate, what'd you think you're doing? Trying to escape?" Dillon looked up but didn't speak. The relaxed tone of the man's voice made him shiver and he tried to hide the can in his hands, hoping like hell that he wasn't about to be caught doing anything that would lead to more pain. "But let's be honest, you aren't going anywhere, are you?" He laughed, loud and wide, so that Dillon could see every tooth in his head, and he tried to shrink away, only to feel himself teeter on the edge of the narrow bed. There was nowhere to go. "It's quite a turn up for the books, really, isn't it? I mean, you and me, together again after all this time. You were the first poof I tried to do in, and the only one to get away. And soon you'll be the last I kill, because this town will be back to the wholesome, healthy place it's supposed to be. I've been saving you up, so to speak, and I have to tell you, it's been fun. And I owe you a lot, you know, because when I ran you and your sicko boyfriend off that bridge, that's when I first realised just how easy gays are to kill. But now it's just you and me, Dillon, and to tell you the truth, I don't like your odds."Dillon stayed silent and still, there wasn't a lot else he could do, and stared in to the eyes of Sam's murderer, his would-be killer - the eyes of Martin White.*Navigating through the national park, in the dark, was far more difficult than David had imagined. Under different circumstances they might have waited until morning but that wasn't an option for David. He needed to find Dillon, not just to find the killer but because he loved him, a fact he had somehow managed to forget over the last few hours, when his desire to catch the killer overtook his need to protect, but he was going to make up for it, as long as he wasn't already too late.Still, there was no chance that he was going to be able to find his way to the cabin in the dark, and since he'd had to wake up Bec to get the gate unlocked, he made a judgement call and asked her and Lizzy to drive ahead of them and guide the way. He watched as the ute ahead of him slowed to a stop and did the same. There was no cabin in sight but he'd warned Lizzy not to drive too close and he turned off his lights as he pulled up along with the back up car behind him. The ground was still soft from the rain and he stepped out and felt his shoes sink in to the mud and undergrowth. All around them was the gentle whispering of the bush at night and he saw a flash of yellow eyes out in the darkness, a possum or koala, he didn't know, but it wasn't Dillon, and that was the focus of his attention.Lizzy walked toward him, hugging her jacket around her tightly, her face drawn and eyes fearful. "The cabin's over the next rise. Five hundred meters ahead. We keep the land directly around it cleared, to dissuade possums and the like from thinking its part of the landscape but they nest in it anyway." David must have looked alarmed because she rushed to reassure him. "They won't be a problem. They're pests but their also cowards, if they hear any action they'll hide, you don't have to worry that they'll get in the way."It had been necessary to tell both Lizzy and Bec more than he would have liked and they both looked horribly shaken."Look," he told Lizzy, holding her arms securely and using his most reassuring voice. "In a minute we're going to be moving forward on foot. We're going to find Dillon, and White," he had to pull himself back in to line after he said that man's name, and Lizzy's eyes widened dramatically as she caught a glimpse of his anger. "And we're going to bring them both back. Now, the ambulance is on its way, but they aren't going to know where to come in the dark either, so I'm going to have to ask for your help again. When we head on up to the cabin I need you and Bec to drive back down to the gate and wait for the paramedics and then guide them up here, same as you did for us. Is that okay? I know I've thrown a lot on you, and if it's too much I can work out something else, but-""No," she whispered, glancing out in to the darkness toward the cabin. "No, it's not too much. I'm happy to help. Well, not happy, but... please bring Dillon out in one piece, Love, please?"David nodded. He wasn't the only one who saw how special Dillon Kelly was and he wasn't about to lose him. Lizzy went back to her car and David called Finlay and the other officers together to explain the lay out of the cabin. The fact that it was built to the same plan as the two that he and Dillon were renting made it easier for him to visualize and he gave directions to two men to watch the front door, one to follow him in through the back door, and Finlay to position herself at the bedroom window."Why there, sir?" she asked curiously. "I can hold my own in this situation.""I know you can," David told her. "It's not about keeping you out of the action, it's because I have a terrible feeling that if White is holding Dillon anywhere in that place it's in the bedroom. I don't know why, it's just... a feeling." His brain was suddenly flooded with the image of Dillon's bedroom after the intruder, White, had been through it, and Dillon's fear of sleeping in the room alone. "The window in the lounge room is too large, no good for hiding an abductee, the kitchen window is right next to the back door so there's no need to watch it, but the bedroom window... the bedroom window is big enough for a man, or woman, to climb through and I need you on it in case White tries to do a runner. I saw the way you took down Gillman tonight, I need that strength again now."She nodded and checked her torch. "I've got your back boss. Anything else we need to know?"David wracked his brain. They hadn't even considered White as a suspect until just over an hour ago and he barely knew the man. But he knew Dillon."Dillon Kelly has previously sustained injuries as a victim of a violent crime. Added to that, we know that he was injured by White during the abduction. We don't know what state he will be in but his safety is our top priority. He's our key witness in bringing White down, and he's someone that we, as members of this country's police force, have failed in the past. We need to make good on that. We need to get him out alive.""You really think Martin was responsible for the hit-and-run?" Finlay asked as they began their careful walk toward the cabin."I don't know," he replied softly. "I only know it fits with our timeline. It fits as a catalyst for the other murders. When all this is over and Dillon is safe I'm going back to double check any and all missing persons reports for the last eighteen months. He's been on a mission, cleansing his precious town, and there's every chance that he sees Dillon as the culmination of it all.""Shit," Finlay whispered. "I never even suspected him.""None of us did." David stopped as the cabin came in to view and signaled for the officers behind him to do the same. "Silence from here on. We all know our positions. I go in first, you wait for a signal. The usual rules apply, we take White alive if humanly possible, but our goal is to stop him and ensure the safety of his hostage, Dillon Kelly. Alright? Let's go."*Dillon couldn't remember being so frightened in his life, nor could he remember ever being in so much pain, except possibly on the night of the accident, yet that pain had still felt muted somehow. Now there was nothing and no way to separate his mind from the screaming agony and he almost wished Martin would simply finish it. He didn't give in to that feeling though because a small pocket of his consciousness was still holding on stubbornly, refusing to give, clinging to the belief that David was on his way to him. He didn't want to give in to unconsciousness or death or Martin when there was even the slightest chance that staying alive meant he'd get to see David beat the shit out of the guy and arrest him.A few hours ago he'd realised, when it was too late for them both, that he had fallen in love. Now those feelings seemed distant and strange but his faith in David was stronger than ever and he held on to his belief that David would rescue him like he held on to the broken beer can in his hands. The fabric around his wrists was ripping finally, but he had no idea what he would do once he was freed of the restraints. There was no escape and Martin would be back any second to torment him again. He didn't know why the man had chosen him as the focus of his hate and violence, and he didn't care. His grandma had always told him that life was too short to put up with folks filled with hate. Cut them out and move on, she'd said. Well, if he could cut his hands free Dillon was going to have a damned good go at cutting Martin. Despite his resolve he couldn't stop the flinch that followed Martin's appearance in the doorway. His body had learnt quickly what that meant, and he hoped the man had no new torments.A whine escaped his throat as Martin walked closer, coming to stand over him with a look of malicious glee, and he saw that dangling from the man's large hand was the necklace stolen from him, and that threaded upon it was Sam's ring. He'd grieved for that ring, cried over it, and feared it was long gone, when really it had been in the possession of the man who had installed his locks, the man he'd trusted to help keep him safe. Martin chuckled as he watched Dillon's reaction and then pulled a photograph from his pocket and laughed when Dillon attempted to cry out through the gag."Aw, you want your precious picture back?" Martin mocked him, throwing the photo on to the bed so Dillon could see it but not reach it. "I couldn't believe it when I saw it on your wall. I was just confirming my suspicions about you that night, and trying to put the fear in to you, but I couldn't leave without taking that ugly shot of your dead boyfriend with me. I know his face so well. Better than you do. It sits behind my eyes, never goes away, his face as I hit him, as he died, as he fell. He died so easily, and yet you didn't. How selfish is that? Why'd you do that, Dillon? Why didn't you die?" He put his knee up on the bed, rolling Dillon on to his back beneath him, and leaned forward, the chain pulled taut between his hands. "Doesn't matter really. You're gonna die now. And then? Then I'll finally get my life back."Dillon pulled at the fabric that bound his hands, trying to get them free, but it was no use, the last knot wouldn't budge and he hadn't been able to cut it enough for it to rip. He struggled but Martin was stronger and had leverage and despite his efforts Dillon found himself unable to breathe. The ring was being pressed against his windpipe and the chain was wrapped tight around his neck. He tried to kick out to put his murderer off balance but didn't have the strength and all too soon there were sparks flying across his darkening vision and his body felt too heavy for him to fight any longer. Somewhere in the distance he heard a crash, but it was a long way off and Martin's response to it was to double his efforts and Dillon felt reality, and his consciousness, begin to fade.*David kicked at the door and leapt in to the room, scanning his surroundings for any sign of White or Dillon. The kitchen was empty but in the thick silence he heard an odd sound. It was the squeaking of a bed frame, accompanied by a faint grunting and he followed it quickly around the corner to the bedroom. In different circumstances he might have thought twice about barging in to a bedroom when he could hear those sorts of noises, but not this time. No one should have had access to this cabin, a bare few people knew of its existence, which meant that whoever was in there wasn't meant to be. He just hoped he was right about who it was.He removed his pistol from its holster as he turned the knob, his body humming with the pent up anticipation. He glanced quickly at the officer behind him, and then pushed the door so that it hit the wall with a bang, raising his gun as he entered, ready to order White to stop what he was doing. But the words died on his tongue as he saw the tableau. White was on the bed, bearing down on Dillon's unresponsive body, a wretched grimace upon his face as he choked the life out of his victim. Instead of words a scream escaped his lips, a rage filled bellow that startled White from his intense concentration and propelled David across the room until he collided with the man and knocked him to the floor.They were both stunned by the fall but White recovered first and attempted to wrestle the gun from David's hand, sending a bullet in to the floor beside his head. David felt his grip on the weapon slip. White was using all of his considerable strength to try and take it from him, and his fingers slid along the metal in dismay as it was finally yanked from his hands and pointed toward him."Don't even think about it."Finlay's voice was like ice and it was her words more than the sound of another gun being cocked that made them both freeze, but David recovered from the shock first and snatched back his weapon triumphantly. The only sound in the room was the third officer on his radio to the paramedics and suddenly David couldn't stand the thought of wasting another moment on the scum that was Martin White. He looked up at Finlay, her gun held steadily against White's head, her expression completely devoid of her usual humour. He nodded to her and rolled away, clambering to his feet and watching White fall to the floor, his hands out on either side of his head."He's all yours," he whispered and Finlay blinked but nodded in understanding and kept her gun trained on White."Martin White I'm arresting you on the charge of attempted murder and suspected murder. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to legal counsel. You have the right..."David wasn't listening anymore. He turned and mumbled an order to the other officer who left the room to fetch the two men still waiting outside. They could deal with White. He no longer cared about the man. The only man he cared about at that moment was before him on the bed, though it took him a moment to be able to focus enough to actually look at what had become of him. His heart tightened, as if trying to hide in upon itself, for Dillon was bound and gagged and bleeding and a welt was already forming on his neck. He fell to his knees beside the bed, his mind a horrible blur, unable to think of what to do, and cupped Dillon's face carefully in his hand as he watched his eyes blink slowly and begin to focus."Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"It was a stupid question, the answers were obvious and glaring, but it was all he could convince his mouth to say. His mind automatically began to catalogue the injuries he could see: the bloody nose, the shallow head wound, the black eye, the burn from the chain on his neck. There would be more, he knew from the previous victims that Dillon's body was likely bruised and beaten, but he couldn't bring himself to look. Dillon, he realised, seemed to be becoming more aware of his surroundings, and was struggling with his bonds, and so David reached around and ripped at the shredded fabric, feeling it fall away in his hands, knowing that it was one of Dillon's bandanas but unable to look at it. Someone else could catalogue the evidence, he had more important concerns.With his hands finally free Dillon reached up to peel the duct tape away from his mouth but couldn't seem to grip it properly in his shaking fingers."Let me," David whispered, though his own hands were shaking as well, as he removed the tape as gently as he could."Fuck, that hurt."Of all the things David had imagined Dillon might say when he finally found him, those three words had not featured at all, and the burst of laughter escaped before he could stop it. He tried to wrap his arms around Dillon's shoulders, as gently as he could, but stopped when he saw the man flinch."I'm so sorry, Dillon," he whispered hoarsely. "I'm so sorry that I didn't keep you safe."Dillon looked up at him, his eyes so tired yet filled with a relentless fire and a searching kind of suspicion that David had come to understand as Dillon's way of assessing whether he could trust a person. He tried to make his face open, to show somehow that he meant what he said, but wasn't sure that it was possible, so waited as patiently as he could for Dillon's verdict."I-"He flinched again suddenly, and David wondered what was wrong before he saw that Finlay and the other officers were removing White from the room. He hadn't made a fuss of protested his innocence, and David realised that he had been lying there, listening to them, and he felt sick that he hadn't insisted that White be escorted from the room immediately. He didn't seem to remember what it meant to be a cop, but he could remember, in the silence, now that it was just the two of them, what he had been meaning to say."Dillon," he said, feeling like the words he needed to say were almost too weighty for him to speak. "I'm sorry. For tonight, for the way I behaved, and for the fact that I couldn't tell you my real reason for being in Port Evans. I'm sorry that I allowed things to progress between us when I knew that my time here was limited. I'm sorry I allowed us both to end up in this position. I didn't think. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.""Yeah, you said," Dillon whispered and David hated the rawness he heard in the man's voice, the result of the near strangling he had just experienced. He seemed about to say more but stopped and dabbed at his lip gingerly, looking at the blood on his finger like he couldn't quite process what it was. "Martin was going to kill you," he said eventually, looking back up in to David's eyes. "He had your gun.""But he didn't." He moved to take Dillon's hand, to reassure him that they were both safe and real and that the nightmare was over, but stopped when he saw that the man's wrists were cut and covered with drying blood. "Oh god, what did he do to you?""He did plenty," Dillon replied breathily. "But those cuts, I did those. I did those. Tried to, to, to cut myself free."David barely noticed the commotion happening elsewhere in the cabin as Finlay radioed in to inform the station of what had happened and request more officers to attend in order to gather evidence, his eyes were locked on the raw skin of Dillon's wrists, even through his tears, which he hadn't even noticed were falling until that moment, but Dillon cleared his throat, and David looked up in to his drawn face, hating the blank way Dillon looked at him, when only a day ago his eyes had been full of affection. He deserved the rejection, he knew, but that didn't make it less heart-rending, nothing could."He told me a lot of, lot of, of stuff," Dillon tried to tell him, though his voice cracked painfully. "There's two, two bodies he says you've not found yet. He killed Sam."David bit his lip. He didn't want to think about the fact that Dillon was going to be his key witness; that he would have to interview him and take a formal statement. He didn't want to be the one to force him to relive the events of this night, but he knew, when the time came, it was the least he could do for him."That's not important now," he said carefully, trying to halt the tears that were falling too freely and catching in the stubble around his chin. He sniffed. "We can go over all of that later, when you're better, okay? Right now though, we need to get you to the hospital. The ambulance is on its way and they're going to need to know where you're hurt. And I know you don't like people knowing you're in pain, but it'll be okay, what ever it is, but I need to know. Dillon, please tell me, please don't try to brave, just-"He was aware he was babbling but didn't seem to be able to stop. His mind had been feeding him horrible scenarios and worse injuries and he couldn't bare the thought of Dillon trying to put on a brave face or dealing with his pain, silent and alone."David, stop."He heard Dillon's voice, weak and strained, but couldn't seem to put the brakes on the overwhelming panic washing through him and the words continued to tumble from his mouth until suddenly Dillon's lips were pressed to his, blocking the flow of words and sending a bolt of heat through his body, straight to his heart. It wasn't a forceful kiss, David didn't think Dillon had the strength for that; it was a gentle press of lips, a still moment of connection, and when Dillon pulled back, his breathing ragged, David felt finally calm."Dillon, I-""Shush," Dillon told him, his voice wavering and his eyelids beginning to droop. "I'm either about to puke or pass out, or both," Dillon whispered between heaving breaths and David immediately brought his hand up to cup Dillon's elbow, to steady him, tears returning to his eyes when Dillon acknowledged the gesture with a wan smile. "So you've got to tell the ambo's that I'm pretty sure my hip is broken. Again." Here his words gave way to sobs and David held him until he felt his body go limp. He lay him back carefully on the bed and stood, ushering the paramedics in as they rushed through the cabin.No one said anything when he held tight to Dillon's hand and insisted on riding with him to the hospital. He left the crime scene and clean up in Finlay's capable hands and decided that interviews could wait. Martin White could wait. He had something far more important to attend to. And he wasn't leaving Dillon's side.