Shattered by Gabrielle Lord

need it.’
    Back in her car, Gemma entered her notes into her laptop. She paused and looked up, distracted by a couple arguing near the entrance to some flats. What a weird day it had been, she thought. The failed celebration dinner and the shocking homicides of the night before; Natalie Finn in a daze of grief and rage; Angie wanting to register her as an official informant; Julie Cooper snubbing her in the street. Feeling like she was going to start crying at the slightest provocation. Is everyone going crazy, Gemma wondered. And does that include me? Or is this what being pregnant does to you?
    She wanted to talk to Maddison Carr herself, she decided, and establish the truth of what Karen had told her: that Maddison did not want to go home.
    Gemma started the car and drove slowly into the late afternoon traffic, finally parking just around the corner from Pussycats.
    At this hour, the club wasn’t open and no one was answering her knock at the front entrance. Maybe there was a back door, Gemma thought, walking along Macleay Street, thinking of the days when shops with elegant clothing and swimwear could be found there, not the present muddle of opportunistic clip joints selling Made in China souvenirs of Australia.
    She turned into the lane Pussycats would back onto. Garbage bins and an abandoned car took up a lot of space and Gemma found herself stepping over rubbish and plastic bags. But there was activity outside the club’s back door. Two girls in short skirts, tank tops and fake-fur jackets – one a solidly built Islander, the other thin and fair – leaned against the wall in the weak sunshine, sharing a smoke in silence. Older and thinner than her photograph, the fair girl, Gemma felt sure, was Maddison Carr.
    From the other end of the lane, a man was approaching, shoulders hunched, hands shoved into his jeans, surreptitiously eyeing the girls. He moved close to Maddison, speaking in a low voice. Wordlessly, without looking at him, she exhaled a cloud of smoke, threw her cigarette to the ground and stomped on it. Then she nodded towards the door, stepped back to allow the man to enter first, and disappeared inside, followed by the other girl.
    Gemma hurried towards the open door, but before she could follow them up the flight of stairs revealed inside, a huge man bounded down the steps and stood in front of her, blocking the way.
    ‘What do you want?’ he demanded.
    ‘That girl,’ said Gemma, trying to get past him. ‘I want to talk to her.’
    ‘She’s busy.’
    ‘What time does she finish?’
    ‘Later.’
    And before Gemma could argue with him, the giant had slammed the door closed.

 
Six
    Frustrated, Gemma bought herself a Danish ice-cream and sat in the car, adding this incident to her notes on Maddison Carr. Angie called to tell her she was heading over to Lane Cove shortly to interview Natalie Finn, who’d finally been persuaded to go home, so Gemma discarded the half-eaten ice-cream and drove to the Lane Cove address that Angie gave her. She needed to confirm her contract with Natalie, and didn’t want to miss a moment of her interview with Angie.
    Gemma locked her car and walked up to the house, noting Angie hadn’t arrived yet. She checked out the property’s serious security system. A heavy-duty domed lens above the steel grilles covering the narrow leadlight panes on each side of the front door had the entry area under surveillance.
    From inside the house came the sound of screaming.
    ‘Natalie!’ Gemma called through the locked door. ‘Open up! What’s happening?’
    The screams continued so Gemma ran around the side of the house, but found the two large windows there too high to afford any view inside.
    ‘Let me go!’ a girl was screaming. ‘You can’t make me!’
    This was accompanied by the sound of thudding feet and the slamming of an inside door so hard that the window near Gemma rattled.
    Gemma ran back around to the front door and pounded on it again. ‘Natalie! Open