Tracing Paths part 2

Part 2

Chapter 8

‘Did you see his face?’ an anxious Detective Inspector asked Jayne, who shook her head.

‘By the time the car stopped, she had her eyes tightly shut. Like the wizard of Oz, she was trying to be like Dorothy, chanting “there’s no place like home” continually. I didn’t see the barn because she didn’t. After being stripped and tied she dared to open her eyes once, saw only his back, black t-shirt, black jeans and boots. Thick neck, wide shoulders, dull red hair, crew cut.’

‘And her, what did she look like?’ asked McHenry.

‘Small, thin, lank dark brown hair, skinny arms, like sticks, that’s all I saw’ said Jayne almost apologetically.

Mark pulled a photograph from his briefcase, ‘Did she look anything like this?’ he said passing the photo over, acting on a hunch.

‘Not anything, exactly like this’ said Jayne, tears filling her eyes as she cringed from the face that blankly stared from the photo of Liz Beck.


After a short interval, McHenry coaxed Jayne to try again. This time he selected the item Jayne was to trace through the shadows, on a hunch, based on what her parents and friends said of her. Joanne, they said, took no crap from anyone, stood up for herself and her friends. McHenry hoped that she might have more fight in her, be more defiant, take notice of her surrounds. He was right, she did, only to receive a fist in the side of her head that knocked her out initially, and left her dazed during the initial moments in the barn. She spat into a blurred face and received another hammering to the side of her head. She lost her pluck and fight after that.

As Jayne paced the small kitchen to regain the circulation in her legs. As they went through the questioning phase, Mark’s mobile phone rang. He left the room, only to return moments later with a drained look on his face. Another girl had gone missing.


On a back road just out of Richmond, Gail Wilson had gotten off the bus at her usual stop, and headed for home along the dirt road. She had refused the offer of a lift from Mrs Adams, wanting to make the most of the mild winter weather. Plus she and her mother had had a huge row before she left for school, and Gail was in no hurry to face her mother, who would continue the row for weeks. She had accused Gail of being a slut, a slur Gail bitterly defended and rejected at the top of her voice, her mother matching her for volume to declare the evidence she had, most of which was imaginary and of no substance, but once started her mother would escalate the situation until Gail gave in, which she usually did, but was damned if she was going to this time.

Her mind was on the pending recommencement of hostilities, she was not aware of the footsteps behind her until she was punched from behind between the shoulder blades. She was knocked off balance, tripping over her feet as she struggled against gravity to remain upright. She was shoved, hands firmly on her back, and this time gravity won and she sprawled onto the gravel, scraping her knees and elbows, her bag skidding up the road and eventually landing in the ditch. She was kicked in the side, this knocking the wind out of her, and she gasped, sucking in the dust from the road, which started her coughing, a searing pain shooting through her side at each cough. She wailed and started to cry, the sobs causing her to suck in more dirt and dust, her breathing becoming more raspy. By now a car had stopped only inches from her left hand, she heard the door open, and was then unceremoniously lifted by her shirt collar and skirt waist band and thrown into the boot of the car, face down.

She banged her head against the side of the boot as the car spun on its wheels before gaining a grip on the dirt and lurching off. She heard the car radio switched on, the music blaring. The back seat was pulled down, a hand reached in and started to grab at her. She rolled as far away from the hand as she could, turning her back on it. Gail felt her shirt as it was grabbed tighten across the front of her before the buttons gave way, then the seams and the shirt was torn from her. She heard a man laughing, a woman yelling, but she could not make the words out. The car continued to bump down the rough road. She heard the whine of the engine as it climbed Archer’s Hill, and the skid of tyres as the car was flung left onto the bitumen of Richmond Road, Gail head and shoulders crushed against the side of the boot as they turned left.

She grew hot, despite the car seat being down, and could smell the fumes of the exhaust waft through where the rubber had fallen away from the boot join. She was scared and vulnerable in just her bra, and wished for one more row with her mother, the small, skinny little woman with the fisher wife’s voice and fierce temper. The seat was slammed back into place and Gail was left in the dark for the rest of the trip.


Mrs Adams had been at her mail box just inside her drive when the dark blue commodore sped past. Remembering Gail was walking home, she looked down the hill to see if Gail was alright. The speed the car was doing would scare anyone, and have anyone ducking for cover, and she peered down the road to see if Gail had done just that. But she saw no sign of Gail. Maybe she had crossed the field to get home rather than walk the long way round. Something in Mrs Adams nagged at her to go and check, so she got back onto her car, and much to the protest of her children, drove back along the road. She stopped when she saw the signs of dirt being churned up, where the car had fought to gain purchase, saw no sign of Gail. She carefully turned her car around, parked beside the markings on the road and got out. She walked slowly over to the ditch, if there were skid marks maybe Gail had been hit, she thought. At the ditch she found Gail’s bag, books tossed from it and soaking in the dirty muddy water at the bottom. Rushing back to the car Mrs Adams fumbled for the mobile phone and called the police.

Fifteen minutes later Constable Cheryl Armstrong arrived. She listened patiently to Mrs Adams, noting the scene and Gail’s discarded bag. Thanking Mrs Adams, Cheryl drove to Mrs Wilson’s home, asked if Gail had arrived. Mrs Wilson shrugged no.

‘Probably hiding up the back to teach me a lesson for this morning’ she said, not looking concerned for Gail at all.

Cheryl was not so convinced, and called her friend Sam who was on the investigation regarding the murdered girls. If Sam had not been the constable requested to follow up traffic infringement notices on black or dark blue coloured commodores the conversation would probably be no more than that, as Gail had only just gone missing (according to Mrs Adams) and her mother had not lodged a missing person report. But as Sam had been spending hours checking traffic infringement notices, and knew what the Detective Inspector was wanting, he phoned Mark immediately.

Chapter 9

Mark and McHenry arrived less than half an hour after the call from Sam. They had Jayne with them, and she nervously sat in the back waiting for instructions. After talking with the policewoman, McHenry came over to escort Jayne to the ditch. It may damage forensic evidence, but they needed to know what they were dealing with. He leant down and pulled the bag from the ditch, books and papers cascading out of it as he did so.

He passed it to Jayne, the policewoman raising an eyebrow as he did this, and Jayne sat crossed legged on the edge of the road. Quite by chance she sat where Gail had fallen, the imprint in time was fresh and clear. Jayne hugged the bag to her chest, connecting with Gail. She quickly repeated Gail’s attack and abduction. As she said this she felt the fear rise in Gail as the car stopped and the boot was opened. His face, at last his face, and Jayne and Gail screamed simultaneously as he grabbed Gail and heaved her from the car.

Jayne ranted the events, seeing them as clearly as if on television. She saw the woman, leaning against the car, lighting a cigarette. Through Gail’s tears she was able to make out the treed hills that surrounded the field, the barn tucked up the back of the field. Gail’s legs wouldn’t hold her up, afraid and stricken with terror was she. In a fireman’s lift he hoisted her to his shoulders for the last few steps to the barn. In this moment she saw the view down the hill, the river meandering through the valley and the town of New Norfolk in the back ground. Then all was dark as the barn door was closed and bolted.

Gail smelt the rotting hay in the corner and the diesel fumes from the old tractor. She smelt the dust in the barn and something else she couldn’t place. She was thrown onto the floor, her head cracking against the concrete, dazing her. She groaned in pain.

He took this as a groan of pleasure. ‘There’ll be more darling, don‘t peak too early’. he removed his jacket, then strode over to when she lay. She fought feebly as he grabbed her wrist and looped a length of twine over her wrist then tightening it, doing the same to her other hand, then her feet, then around her neck. He then walked around her tightening the tension till she was flat against the concrete. Then sitting on the floor beside her, he stroked her through her clothing, commenting on her pretty lacy bra, her beautiful firm breasts. Her nipple tightened in response to his fondling, and he smiled, those crocked teeth, those eyes, leering at her.

He rolled over enough so his hip rested against hers. ‘You affect me powerfully little one, I’m going to enjoy you’. She felt something hard rub against her hip as he licked her face, then lowered himself to lick the bulge of her breasts over the bra. Gail screamed, the fist slammed her into unconsciousness.

Chapter 10

Jayne screamed as blackness overtook her and she rolled onto the road. Then she screamed in frustration as she felt the link broken. Already McHenry was on the radio shouting at the New Norfolk station to put their dicks away and start searching, then demanding to know if they had any idea where that view and barn could be. Cheryl had dragged Jayne to her feet and was pushing over and into the car following Mark. McHenry continued to yell down the radio as Mark drove off at high speed. Jayne reached for the seat belt and braced herself.

‘Sirens, I want sirens. I want this bastard to know we’re looking for him. I don’t give a shite, I want that girl found, alive’ McHenry shouted. Mark was on his phone demanding the police helicopter be immediately airborne.

Jayne sat in the back racking her brain to remember that view. She’d seen it before, a photo, a book, had she been there? She had clearly named the town in the distance New Norfolk, but how did she know this. Was it Gail that knew it? Yes, that was it, it was Gail that knew it, she’d been there before, she knew the place, she knew the woman.

‘Aunty Liz’ Jayne yelled, ‘It’s Aunty Liz, the woman, it’s her aunt’. McHenry turned to her with wide eyes, briefly stunned, then on the radio to Cheryl, still with Gail‘s mother. Mark gripped the wheel harder and put his foot down. A moment later Cheryl radioed back, ‘Quarry Road, Boyer’.

‘All units,’

Chapter 11

Gail woke to find herself naked and still tied. She felt sore all over, and when she lifted her head, not easy to do being pinned to the floor as she was, she was horrified to find herself dotted with bruises. Her breasts were sore, already purple from their bruising. Her nipples ached and stung with the chill air that blew on them from the open barn door. She felt discomfort between her legs, but not sore. Like someone had been probing, like those first fumbling efforts of Shane behind the bike sheds. Her side ached every time she breathed, and her head felt like it would explode with the pain. Outside she could hear muffled voices, and slowly it came back to her, the abduction, him touching her, her being tied, and the shock of seeing Aunty Liz, and her not doing anything to help.

Gail sobbed, then gulped enough air to fill her lungs to the full, gritting her teeth with the pain. At full voice she yelled ‘Aunty Liz you poor pathetic useless bitch’.

Jayne was tossed in her seat as Mark flung the car around the corners, overtaking cars in blind spots that had her bracing herself as she was sure they’d be in an accident. In the rear view mirror she could see Mark’s face set in stone and willing the car faster. Trees, sign posts and the road edge flashed by at breakneck speed. McHenry was on the radio to the helicopter now, and Jayne could see it flying up the valley following the path of the river. Finally a straight bit of road and Mark cranked the speed up, the car’s engine whining in protest. The helicopter overtook them and disappeared over the hills. Cutting across the road round another blind corner, Jayne could not believe their luck at not meeting another car or a log truck coming from the other direction on the road. Up and over the hill, through the pine plantation, the timber yard and New Norfolk township the other side of the river could be seen briefly as the car flew over the crest of the hill, airborne for a matter of seconds before bouncing back onto the road. Crackling on the radio, ‘The helicopter is at the barn’.

Aunty Liz stood in the doorway, staring at Gail. She said nothing as Gail continued to hurl abuse at her and curse her. Gail finally ran out of words, sobbing to herself. Liz Beck bent down and from inside the door picked up a scythe. She ran the finger over the blade, then stared at Gail.

‘You’ve been a bad girl’ she said as she stepped into the barn. ‘Bad girls deserve what they get, and are to be thankful for what they are about to receive’. She stepped closer.

Gail started to plead, her bravado gone, she was now openly crying ‘I’ve been good’ she wailed.

‘That’s not what I hear, you’ve been very bad, a little slut, a whore, just like your mother, just like her friends’ Liz knelt beside Gail.

‘I haven’t, I swear I haven’t’ Gail now in hysterics as Liz lay the scythe over her stomach.

‘You’d be such a pretty woman. What sort of mother would you be? A whore makes a poor mother’ Liz pressed the tip of the blade into Gail’s skin, drawing blood. ‘Last thing this world needs is more little bastards from dirty whores like you’ slice.

Gail’s scream was silent, shock, disbelief, numb, then the pain, the worst pain, raw, deep, her brain exploding with lights as it registered the pain in her stomach. Unable to cope, it blessedly stopped receiving signals and Gail fainted as her blood soaked the concrete floor.

Chapter 12

At the sound of the helicopter he had jumped into the car and taken off. He wasn’t going back to jail, not for some little tarts who only got what they’d begged for, a good root. The car disappeared into the trees as the helicopter came over the hill. They landed in the field as Liz left Gail’s side and walked from the barn.

‘Lower your weapon and kneel with your hands on your head’. The order was repeated when Liz made no move. As if waking from a dream, she slowly took in her surroundings, saw the police, heard the sirens of other police cars. Saw the guns pointed at her. She raised the scythe, screamed a battle cry and ran toward the nearest policeman. Without hesitation shots were fired, and before she could inflict damage, Liz Beck was shot dead, still holding the scythe as she hit the ground.

Several police ran into the barn, one immediately came out again to vomit. Radios crackled, ‘girl found, emergency staff needed at hospital, airlifting her now.’

As he steered wildly up the hill, Jimmy Beck had only one thing on his mind. He wasn’t going to get caught, not going back to jail over silly girls, not again. He could hear the sirens, even caught a glimpse of the flashing blue lights. Pressing his foot hard on the accelerator he pushed the car faster and faster. The gates of the quarry rose before him, he pushed his foot to the floor. Smashing through the gates was easier than he had thought, the quarry opened before him. Faster and faster, the engine whining and the car shaking, he screamed for joy as the car became airborne and he felt he was flying.

‘Freedom’ he yelled just as the car started it’s downward arch, ‘freedom’ he thought in the seconds before the car hit the bottom of the quarry and burst into flames.

Mark pulled the car to a halt, it skidded sideways on the gravel before stopping. He and McHenry got out of the car, cursing in their own way over the bastard that had gotten away. A fire ball rose from the quarry pit. ‘The entrance to hell - hope you enjoy the trip’ McHenry muttered to himself. Mark nodded. Jayne drew up her legs and curled into the back seat of the car, fighting off the grasping shadows from the disturbed surrounds.



Chapter 13

The link between the girls had not been in their lives, but in the lives of the mothers. As they learnt the identity of the duo, mothers flung themselves on the floor, begging forgiveness from their husbands, from their god, from themselves. Though hours of patient questioning the story slowly emerged.

The mothers of the victims had teased a bloke one night to the point of sexual frustration. They had laughed and teased him till he made a grab for one of them. They had pushed him away, but when he continued to hang around, following them in the street, watching them play sports, generally giving them the creeps and scaring them. Telling him to sod off did no good, only made things worse, he’d hang around their houses, write obscenities on their windows and walls, watch them every chance he got. It got to the stage when the only way they felt they could stop him was to accuse him of rape. They never believed Jimmy Beck would be sentenced on their fake evidence. Liz was married to Jimmy at the time, and knew the girls lied, but at the time had been battered by Jimmy, so the alibi she gave him was questioned in court. Flustered, she had admitted to Jimmy being rough with her, with his fists and sexually, and for the prosecution, that sealed the case.

It solved the girls problem, and they carried on with their lives.

Before all this Nell (Gail’s mother) had been keen on Jimmy and they had spent the night together. Nell had thought it exciting to have an affair with her sister‘s husband. Before his incarceration, Nell fell pregnant with Gail. Liz also fell pregnant, but miscarried. Liz had suspected Nell and Jimmy of having an affair, and when Gail was born with Jimmy’s eyes and colouring, her suspicions were confirmed. Liz broke off relations with Nell for some years. When Nell met and married Barry Wilson, Barry urged the sisters to make up, and Liz rejoined the family. Barry always treated Gail as his own daughter.

Liz had regretted her weakness in court. Jimmy was released some 15 years later with revenge on his mind, and Liz, feeling Nell had ruined her chances for a child and a life with Jimmy was willing to go along with the plan. She’d waited outside the barn while Jimmy took his revenge, sometimes in a few moments, sometimes over hours. When he came out spent, sometimes when they died, sometimes ages after their death, Liz would then go in and extract her revenge, slicing through their wombs and killing any baby Jimmy had given them. The fact they were already dead had no bearing on Liz’s actions, in her mind it was this act that killed them, as they should never have been born to the lying, cock teasing sluts that took her Jimmy from her all those years before.

The fact the girls had been of similar age was mere coincidence. The mothers lost touch after school, the surnames in the papers meant nothing to them. They had all forgotten Jimmy Beck, now they will never forget.

Searching the Beck’s home the police had found an old school photo of the girls that had accused him all those years before. Six faces had red crosses on them, a length of hair pinned to the centre of each cross, the child being matched to the mother. Why they were buried in mounds of leaves and dirt with a lock of hair sticking out, no one could answer.

Chapter 14

Jayne lay in bed, George stroking her hair. ‘Who needs a man when I have you’ she teased him.

‘I am the perfect man’ he teased back. ‘If I were living I could demonstrate it to you’.

‘You men are such boasters. Take me again to your life?’ she said.

‘With pleasure’ and as Jayne fell asleep George opened the shadows leading to the path of his tracings and a time imprint of his own, horse drawn buggies, women in long skirts, a slower time and place.