The Summer of Secrets

by Barbara Hannay

Then Finn’s phone call.

  Ben had never seen Jacko look so scared and angry. The last thing the Fed had needed was a journalist sticking his nose in where it most desperately wasn’t wanted.

  ‘And not just any journalist,’ Jacko had moaned. ‘But a damn clever one, who knows me too bloody well. And just when we’re on the bloody brink of closing this damn operation.’

  Jacko had agreed to meet Finn, but he had also sent out another round of alerts and he had paced his living room, smoking, coughing and spluttering until, thirty minutes later, he’d been reassured. Norman Chrysler and his connections appeared to be none the wiser. They were carrying on as usual. Not a hint of suspicion. The AFP agents’ plans were still safe.

  And now, with the signal to join Jacko and Finn in the café on the apartment block’s ground floor, Ben knew it was crazy to be excited, but it had been weeks since he’d had any contact with Burralea.

  As he stepped through the doorway into the café, the good-looking dude who was the town’s newspaper editor rose to his feet, smiling, holding out his hand.

  ‘Ben, it’s so good to see you.’

  ‘You, too, Finn,’ Ben said as they shook hands.

  Finn was grinning, shaking his head in amazement. ‘My mind’s spinning, of course, trying to work out what the hell’s going on.’

  ‘I know,’ Ben agreed as he lowered himself into the spare chair at their table. He would take his cue from Jacko. ‘Crazy, huh?’

  ‘I hope you guys are going to explain all this now,’ Finn said as soon as a waiter had taken Ben’s order.

  Jacko, in the process of lighting another cigarette, waved in Ben’s direction. ‘Tell him your story.’

  Ben lifted his eyebrows. ‘All of it?’

  ‘May as well. Finn’s an old hand and this is still operational. It’ll be off the record until we make the arrests.’

  ‘Right.’ Ben drew a deep breath as he tried to get his thoughts in order. So much had happened since that fateful afternoon when he’d veered off the rainforest track. ‘I guess you realise by now that I stumbled on a little ice-cooking operation.’

  Finn nodded. ‘The local police could tell us that much. The hut was abandoned by the time they found it, of course.’

  ‘Yeah, well, Norman Chrysler wanted me dead. But lucky for me, he didn’t know that the guy he’d told to shoot me was actually an undercover cop.’

  ‘Working for the Feds, I assume?’

  ‘Yeah. So this guy – I’ve only known him as Hawk – took me off into the bush, but instead of topping me, he helped me to disappear. At first, I couldn’t see why he didn’t just arrest Chrysler and be done with it. After all, he had the gun, but he assured me it couldn’t work that way. He’d invested years on this case and he couldn’t risk anything rash. He gave me a phone and Jacko’s number here in Thailand. Wrote the number on my wrist and told me to memorise it then wash it off.’

  Ben smiled as he admitted, ‘Numbers have never been my forte, but I sure managed to learn that one. And Hawk gave me the code word “Sunshine” as well. Worked like magic.’

  He flicked his glance towards Jacko, who was watching him carefully, despite the smoke reddening his eyes. ‘I simply gave Jacko the word and he seemed to understand the whole situation,’ he said.

  Finn turned to Jacko as well, no doubt expecting a comment, but the Fed remained deadpan and took another drag on his cigarette. Finn returned his attention to Ben. ‘I suspected you hadn’t spoken to the local police.’

  ‘No chance. Hawk warned me to steer clear of them, or anyone in the Federal Police in Australia. Said it was too risky. For him and for me. The only person I was allowed to speak to was Tammy.’

  Finn’s jaw dropped. ‘You spoke to Tammy?’

  ‘Just the once. To put her in the picture.’

  ‘You mean she’s known all along that you were alive?’

  Ben nodded. ‘I had to swear to Hawk that she could be trusted. I wasn’t happy, putting that kind of pressure on her. I knew it would be a terrible strain, but it’s hard to argue when a bloke’s pointing a shotgun at you. And, of course, I had to make Tammy promise not to tell anyone else.’

  ‘The poor girl. No wonder she’s been looking so tense and anxious. We all thought it was grief.’

  As he had constantly, throughout these past lonely weeks, Ben let his thoughts settle on his bubbly, talkative Tammy. Her clients were always confiding in her, sharing their troubles and their personal secrets. She must have found it so damn hard to keep his secret to herself. But he’d known that, in this case, Tammy would be super careful. Of course she would. She was smart and he had made sure she understood how serious the situation was.

  ‘I couldn’t go home,’ Ben said. I couldn’t risk being seen in town, and I could only phone Tammy and tell her as much as I thought she needed to know.’

  ‘Amazing,’ said Finn with a shake of his head. ‘Well, I guarantee, you can be proud of Tammy, mate. She’s done a great job of keeping your secret. Fooled the whole town. My new journalist even interviewed her, specifically trying to dig deeper, but she never let on.’

  Ben smiled. ‘My girl might not look especially strong, but she’s smart and she’s tough.’

  And I love her, he thought, with a stab to his heart primed by both joy and fear. It was hard to believe it might not be long now before he could see her again.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  The lake was like a mirror in the early morning, reflecting the pale-blue perfection of a cloudless sky. The only ripples on the surface were made by Emily’s oars as she rowed towards home, working fluidly in a seamless motion, now as familiar to her as breathing.

  Already, the sun had climbed fast and the day threatened to grow hot before it was too much older. But for now the air on the lake was cool.

  There was even a breeze as Emily approached the shore. She feathered the oars over the glassy surface and allowed the boat to skim past the reeds to the bank, expecting to see Murphy waiting, sitting in his usual spot, eagerly alert with his golden tail waving.

  For the first time in her memory, her dog wasn’t there to greet her.

  Emily frowned, scanning the bank. Murphy’s absence was worrying, but not completely alarming. Perhaps he’d been distracted by a particularly enticing smell and was off chasing a bandicoot or some other unfortunate small creature.

  In the shallows, Emily alighted and pushed the boat forward, edging it gently onto the sand. Carefully, she gathered up the long, thin oars, and once again scanned the tree-studded bank that sloped all the way up to the house. Still no sign of the dog.

  ‘Murphy!’ she called.

  No response.

  She called again, more loudly, ‘Murphy! Where are you, boy?’

  At last, a happy bark. The flurry of worry in Emily’s breast eased. Obviously, her loyal dog had been captivated by something incredibly important.

  Now, sure enough, the golden lab came bounding down the back steps and over the slope, his tail thrashing. Emily grinned at him as he raced towards her. Then she saw something else that made her happy smile freeze.

  At the house, the back flyscreen door had opened and a figure appeared. Tall, masculine and heartbreakingly familiar. She almost dropped the oars.

  Alex.

  His name was a mere whisper on Emily’s lips. Her heart thumped so hard she could feel it banging against her ribs.

  Murphy scampered excitedly back and forth, expecting her customary greeting. She gave him a distracted pat. She was too busy watching as Alex continued, without haste, down the back stairs.

  She supposed she must have known that he would eventually come back, but she had expected a warning, a phone call at least. Stupidly, she wished she was dressed in something more glamorous than the spandex T-shirt and shorts she wore for rowing.

  Alex was, of course, wearing the usual attire that suited him so perfectly, a blue striped shirt with long sleeves rolled to the elbows, pale chinos and brown leather riding boots. His silve
r hair glinted in the morning light as he came with long, easy strides to where she stood, anchored, clutching the oars.

  A storm broke in her chest. Longing for the man she’d fallen for all those years ago and whose love she had never doubted. Till lately. Anger for the way he’d walked out on her and his subsequent prolonged silence.

  But guilt was there, too. Guilt for her indiscretion with Rolf. And pain when she recalled the horrendous fight with Alex, still unresolved since the night he left.

  Such dreadful insults they’d hurled at each other. Insults born out of the deepest pain and grief. Such hurtful, unspeakable things they’d said.

  ‘Good morning, Emily,’ Alex said now as he came to a stop a metre from her.

  Was there a hint of a cautious smile in his eyes? She couldn’t be sure. His mouth remained firm.

  ‘Hello, Alex.’ Everything about him was painfully familiar and dear, and yet, after weeks of silence, also strangely distant. This morning, there was no welcoming kiss, no smiling, no rushing into each other’s arms.

  Murphy, however, continued to scamper blissfully around them, as if he was ecstatic that his master and mistress were together again.

  ‘When did you get here?’ Emily asked her husband.

  ‘About ten minutes ago.’

  ‘You haven’t come straight from Red Hill, have you?’

  ‘I have, actually.’

  ‘You must have driven all night.’

  After all this time, what on earth could have brought him hurrying home at such an unlikely hour?

  But Alex merely gave a curt nod and held out his hand for the oars. ‘Let me take those for you.’

  Mutely, Emily handed them over. She thought of the many times she’d imagined a reunion with Alex. Foolishly, she’d pictured an emotional, teary scene with hugs and profuse apologies, followed by something akin to a second honeymoon. Yet here they were, behaving like polite strangers.

  Given the current mood, she half expected Alex to make a superficial comment now, to mention the beautiful morning, perhaps. She would hate it if he did, when the important things had been left too long unsaid.

  It was almost a relief when he remained silent as they walked back to the house. Without further word, he stowed the oars as carefully as Emily would have done, while she took off her wet rowing shoes and dried her feet, pulled the elastic from her hair and gave it a hasty finger-comb.

  ‘I’ve started the coffee,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, good.’ Her response was automatic. This morning, nothing mattered but the reason for her husband’s return. Everything else, even the first coffee of the day, had lost its attraction.

  Once they were in the kitchen, Emily let Alex fiddle with the coffee plunger and mugs while she fussed over Murphy, petting him and giving him his breakfast, then washing her hands at the sink.

  Alex slid a full mug across the counter towards her.

  ‘Thank you.’ But she didn’t take the mug and she didn’t sit on a stool at the bench.

  She was over the first shock of seeing her husband, and she was beginning to feel rather annoyed with him for waltzing into the house and trying to act as if everything was normal, as if their terrible row had never happened, as if he hadn’t shunned her for weeks.

  ‘Is the mustering over?’ she asked.

  Alex nodded. ‘Yes.’

  So, was this his reason for coming back? He’d run out of excuses to stay away? Surely he could have just lingered at Red Hill for as long as he liked? ‘Did it go well?’ she asked tightly.

  ‘Very smoothly, thanks. And prices are up. We should make a good profit this year.’

  Another annoying response. Why mention money now? Anyone would think they were still young, desperately anxious to make a go of their cattle business. For more than a decade, they’d been comfortably off.

  Emily took a deep breath. ‘So what happened? Any particular reason you came back?’

  Alex lifted his gaze to meet hers. ‘I’m not exactly proud of the reason.’

  He certainly looked rather abashed. Despite her annoyance, she felt a small spurt of sympathy.

  ‘I had a phone call from Rolf,’ Alex said.

  Emily changed her mind about not sitting down. She was too shaky to remain standing. Her thoughts were racing now, trying to imagine the conversation between Rolf and her husband. Clearly its impact had been significant.

  A thousand possibilities flashed through her mind. None of them good.

  She forced herself to ask, ‘What did Rolf say?’

  ‘Not a lot.’ Alex dropped his gaze to his untouched coffee mug. He picked it up, set it down again.

  Emily’s hands clenched. She wanted to scream. Just tell me.

  Still without looking at her, he said, ‘Rolf told me I was being a bloody fool and if I wasn’t careful I would lose you, or words to that effect.’

  ‘I – I see.’

  ‘I gather the two of you have had some rather in-depth conversations.’

  ‘Yes.’ Emily swallowed. ‘Yes, we have.’

  Alex looked up at her now and his gaze was a complicated mix that might have been suspicion, or blazing emotion. ‘He’s in love with you, isn’t he?’

  ‘Rolf?’ Her cheeks flamed. ‘I – I don’t know.’ She should have felt guilty then. But Alex couldn’t claim the moral high ground when he’d taken no responsibility for his part in their separation. A new flash of anger quickly cleansed her conscience. ‘Is that why you came back, Alex? To grill me about my relationship with Rolf Anders?’

  Her husband sighed, closed his eyes. ‘No, Emily.’ His voice was unexpectedly quiet.

  Now, even with his eyes closed, she could see the pain in his handsome face. It showed in the hollows beneath his cheekbones, in the deep creases that ran from beside his nose to the edges of his down-turned mouth. When he opened his eyes again, the torment was almost too much for her to bear.

  ‘I came back to —’

  The phone on the kitchen wall rang shrilly, making Emily jump. She tried to ignore it. She couldn’t answer it now, but of course it wouldn’t give up.

  Alex was closest. ‘I’ll get it,’ he said.

  ‘It’s bound to be for me.’ Emily wriggled off the stool and hurried across the kitchen. ‘It’s probably Chloe, the new girl at the Bugle.’ She grabbed the receiver. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hello, Emily?’ The young woman’s voice wasn’t Chloe’s.

  ‘Yes, Emily here.’

  ‘It’s Jess.’

  ‘Jess?’ Emily repeated, momentarily puzzled. ‘Oh, Jess,’ she said again, as she remembered the girl from the café with the sweet baby girl. ‘Yes, of course, Jess. Sorry, I was a bit distracted here for a moment.’ She looked at Alex, lifted her eyebrows, offering an apologetic shrug. ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m fine, thanks. I hope I haven’t rung too early.’

  This was Emily’s chance to get rid of the interruption, but her deeply ingrained manners delivered an automatic response. ‘No, this is fine. How can I help?’

  ‘Well, I was wondering —’ The girl stopped, but before Emily could become too impatient, she said quickly, ‘I was wondering if I could visit you. If I could bring Willow to see you, too. There’s something I – I need to tell you. We wouldn’t take up much of your time.’

  On any other morning, Emily would have been delighted. For weeks she’d been so terribly lonely, and at Chloe’s party, she’d loved the chance to connect with another generation. Little fatherless Willow had stolen her heart.

  But now? The timing couldn’t have been worse. She glanced towards Alex. ‘I – I’m afraid I’m rather busy this morning.’

  ‘Oh? Sorry. That’s okay. Some other time then.’

  ‘What about later in the day?’ Emily had been conscious of the note of disappointment in Jess’s voice.

  ‘Only if it suits. I finish work at the café around three-thirty.’

  ‘That would be fine. Come for afternoon tea.’

  ‘Oh, thank you. That’
s lovely. But please don’t go to any trouble. I’ll bring something to eat from the café.’

  ‘All right, Jess. That’s a deal. I’ll see you then.’

  As Emily hung up, she felt extraordinarily weary. Perhaps she could blame the lack of coffee.

  She turned to Alex. ‘Now, where were we?’

  For the first time since he’d arrived, her husband smiled. ‘I believe I was about to offer you an apology.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Since Finn’s earliest days in Bangkok, the Pranakorn Bar had been a favourite watering hole for the expat journos. Positioned a short walk from the busy tourist strip on Khao San Road, the bar left behind the budget guesthouses, mid-range hotels and internet cafés and offered something more authentic.

  It was also where the hip, local Thai people ate and drank. With no special dress code, the ambience was laid-back and the prices pocket-friendly. Quality live music played and the view from the rooftop provided glimpses of old-world Bangkok – government buildings hundreds of years old and the Phra Prang temple, shimmering and golden.

  Finn was running late when he arrived for his promised meeting with Doug Brady. He had grabbed a few moments to ring Tammy Holden, to let her know that he’d met with Ben, that Ben was now in Bangkok, fit and well, and hoped to be coming home very soon.

  The poor girl had shrieked so loudly Finn had needed to hold his phone well away from his ear. She had asked him to say it all over again, so she could be sure it was true. And then, when he had done so, she’d wept buckets. But between her sobs, she’d been profuse in her thanks.

  ‘No worries,’ Finn had assured her. ‘As we speak, the Feds are closing in on an Australian drug network that has links here in Thailand.’

  ‘Does that mean I can start telling people at last?’ Tammy was pleading.

  ‘No, you’ll have to hold off until Ben’s safely home, but you won’t have to wait too long.’

  He’d been pleased to pass on such a positive message, but now, as he entered the bike shop that took up the ground floor of the Pranakorn building, he felt as if he was stepping back in time. Without warning, his old enemy grief came sweeping back, in wave after painful wave.