Grievous Harm - Sandy Curtis

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watched Kate struggle up the pavement with her bulky purchases. She stopped at a taxi rank, gazed at the sole waiting taxi, then shook her head before pressing on. There was something so determined, so tenacious, in the movement that John felt a sudden urge to help her. Instead he phoned Craig again. Knowing Kate Maclaren's financial situation might prove advantageous.

      Melanie Maclaren dug her hoe into the rich soil. She didn't mind the hard work. That, together with the many daily sessions of prayer, meditation, singing and group therapy left her so pleasantly tired each night that she no longer dwelt on her past life and the loss she had endured.

      Living here was wonderful. She had no responsibilities apart from her daily chores, and these were regulated so that it was easy to fall into the commune's routine. Even Cindy wasn't a problem like she had been when they'd lived in Sydney and she'd missed her American friends and family. Now Cindy played and prayed with the other children, becoming as serene and compliant as the other commune members. Well, almost as compliant. Her daughter had a strong, independent personality that didn't conform well to the regulations at the commune.

      Nathaniel was due to visit in a few days. Melanie's heartbeat quickened at the thought. Some of the other women had been euphoric in their accounts of their private sessions with him. Although not preaching total 'free love' for the commune members, Nathaniel encouraged them to enter into relationships, no matter how short the duration, saying that the act of love was a gift to be shared.

      He would often select a woman to share his physical love with, saying this was an expression of the overwhelming love he had for all the church members. Melanie hoped she would be chosen soon. So far she had not shared herself with any of the males in the commune, wanting Nathaniel to be her first. After that she would be like the other members who enjoyed the freedom from social censure that the commune encouraged.

      After Craig phoned him with the information he'd requested, John made two other phone calls. Giving McSwain's name as authorisation was a risk, but John hoped they wouldn't double-check with his boss.

      Confirmation came two minutes later.

      Within half an hour he had checked out of his hotel room and was sitting behind the wheel of a grey late-model Falcon, waiting for Kate Maclaren to emerge from the backpackers' hostel's parking area.

      The phone call he made subdued Nathaniel's anxiety. He hadn't believed Kate Maclaren this morning, but he'd had no way of knowing whether she was lying or not.

      Now he relaxed. He'd soon know what she was up to.

      CHAPTER 7

      Although she hadn't purchased a tent, the gear Kate carried was becoming increasingly heavy to lug around, and she was grateful the wind had eased and now wasn't pushing against her. By the time she reached the hostel her arms were aching.

      Glen hadn't come on duty yet, but Kate had become friendly with the girl who worked mornings in reception, and quickly stowed her purchases in the area behind the desk. Last night she'd told Glen what she intended to do, and he'd told her the various places she could buy the gear she needed cheaply. She was going to miss him, she realised as she packed her belongings a few minutes later. Without his help she might have ruined all chances of finding Melanie and Cindy.

      A knock on her door made her spin around. In the weeks she'd been here, no-one had come to her room, and her heart beat wildly at the thought that Nathaniel might have somehow uncovered her plans.

      'Kate, it's Glen,' came hissing through the door, and she quickly ran and opened it. Glen slipped inside. He locked the door, then pulled out a small package and handed it to her. 'It's not legal,' he said, 'but you might need it. There's only one box of ammunition, but it's all I could get.'

      The gun lay small and light in its cloth wrapping. She picked it up, felt the squareness of the short butt in her palm, noted the snub barrel.

      'It's a PM9 Kahr,' Glen explained. 'It takes 9 millimetre ammo and comes with two magazines, a six-shot and a seven-rounder.' He took the pistol from her and demonstrated. 'It's designed so you can conceal it easily in your clothing or bag.'

      'How do you know so much about guns?'

      'My father. He belongs to a gun club. When I was a kid he was worried that I wasn't macho enough so he used to take me duck-shooting with him. When I refused to kill anything he dragged me along to the gun club hoping that some of the macho there would rub off.'

      He laughed. 'It didn't, but I realised if I learned about guns it gave us something to talk about.' He smiled wryly. 'He definitely wasn't interested in clothes and makeup.'

      'Is this one of his?' Kate was reluctant to involve anyone else in her problems, especially if it could get them in trouble with the law. She'd heard about Australia's tight gun laws and how you needed to be licensed to own a firearm.

      Glen laughed. 'Not likely. This is a woman's gun, for personal protection. I bought it on the street.'

      She shook her head. 'I can't afford it. I don't have much money left and I don't know how long I'll need to keep looking for Melanie and Cindy.'

      'I don't want your money.'

      'But why? You've already helped me so much. And this must have cost you a packet.'

      'The man who gave you the information on the Loving Hand? The one whose sister tried to get her kid back from them but was found dead from a supposed drug overdose?'

      She nodded.

      'Remember he said that after his sister died, two men told his kids to tell their daddy that families should stick together. He got the message, which is why he didn't keep trying to get his nephew back. He had to protect his own kids. I can't tolerate bullies, I had enough of that at school. And if his sister was right about her suspicions of them sexually abusing the children in the communes…'

      Kate tried to push the unwanted images his words had created from her mind. 'I still can't understand why the police haven't been able to do anything.' The tension and frustration of the past few weeks edged her voice.

      'They need proof,' Glen sighed. 'And the Loving Hand knows it. Their followers are loyal, and the few that leave seem to disappear or won't say anything against them. If they were as big as some of the other questionable so-called religions in the country the media would have made a big deal about them years ago and maybe got some results.' He thrust the gun at her. 'If I thought I'd be useful I'd go with you, but at least you'll have some protection with this.'

      She took the gun, wrapped it up and put it in her backpack. 'Thank you. I'll get it back to you so you can get your money back.'

      Glen shrugged. 'The money's not important. Just stay alive.'

      His words heightened Kate's apprehension at the task she'd set herself, but she took a deep breath and smiled at him. 'That's my intention.'

      'Your chariot has arrived,' Glen joked, as they met the man with the keys at reception. His smile never made it to his eyes. 'I'll give you a hand with your gear.'

      Within minutes they'd packed Kate's belongings into the Rav4 the hire firm had delivered.

      Saying goodbye to Glen was harder than Kate anticipated. She hadn't realised how much his friendship and support had meant to her. Being alone had never bothered her before, but it was different now there was so much at stake.

      A middle-aged man in a slightly crumpled suit had just reached the reception counter when Glen walked back into the hostel. Glen was about to go upstairs when he heard the man say Kate's name to the receptionist. With quick strides, he moved behind the counter and gushed at the girl that he was there for his afternoon shift and she should hurry off and check out the sales at a nearby boutique.

      He didn't miss the contempt in the man's eyes as he waved his manicured nails and asked how he could be of assistance.

      'I'm from Immigration.' The man flipped an ID at Glen and just as quickly pocketed it. 'I need to speak with Kate Maclaren. I believe she's staying here.'

      'Was,

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