by Lee Winter
Sam returned her attention to the cork circle in front of her, rubbed at the pain in her ribs with her left arm, and threw her first dart. This time it was just shy of the inner ring. Much better.
“Nice one,” Alex said, then pointed a fork at her food. “Hey, this salad’s really good.”
“Of course it is. Everything’s grown fresh. No pollution, nothing’s being rammed into trucks for transport.”
Alex laughed.
“What?”
“I love how proud you are of all things local. Throw again. Not too straight, though. I have a lot riding on this.”
“Finding out my occupation is hardly ‘a lot’.”
Alex offered a mysterious grin.
Sam tossed the second dart. Yes! Like the old days.
“Bullseye,” Alex murmured, tone approving. “Can you do it twice? Even more centered than that one?”
More centered? Who plans to have it dead center? Sam threw her third dart. This one landed back on the outer circle. Damn. Not quite.
“So close.” Alex put down her fork. Her expression was admiring.
Hmm. Sam collected the darts and walked back to drop them on the table. “You’re up.”
Alex snagged them and sauntered over to the toe line, getting into position. She was relaxed, and her head became very still.
The first dart jagged to the right of center in the one wedge. She looked unconcerned. “Oh well.” Her eyes sparkled.
Those eyes are pretty.
Um, what?
Alex tossed the next dart, and this one embedded itself beside the first. Without comment, Alex immediately let her third dart fly. And it, too, was placed beside its brothers in a neat, tight, line of three. All exactly, evenly spaced.
“Oh look,” she said, “three ones. A Bag of Nails. Or the Eric Bristow, if you want to get technical.”
She knew the jargon? Sam moved to stand beside her and examined that perfectly positioned trio. Not a random placement. “Maybe one of us does believe in cons?” she murmured. “I’m curious as to what your next trick will be.”
Alex walked to the board and plucked the darts out but made no comment. After returning to the toe line, she paused and said, “Maybe I should make it a fairer contest?” She gave Sam a cheeky grin and stepped back five more paces. Then she turned, and in three blurred, rapid throws, nailed three bullseyes. It was seamless.
Holy… Sam couldn’t hide her astonishment. “How did you do that?”
“Dad taught me.” Alex headed back for the board and retrieved the darts. “He worships darts. Maybe a little too much.”
“Too much?”
“You’ve heard of a card shark?”
Sam nodded.
“My old man’s a darts shark. Every now and then, if someone comes into his local pub and is being a real prat, Dad’ll become their best mate, buy them a few beers, and then fleece them at darts faster than anything. He’s not a crook, though,” Alex added quickly. “He has a strict code: Only assholes are targeted. And he never tries it on anyone who can’t afford to lose the dough.”
Did he want a medal for income-testing his marks? Surely Alex didn’t support this, did she? Was she proud of her father for his illegal endeavors? Well, if so, the woman wouldn’t be the first family member to enable the black sheep in the family.
Sam sighed. How was she any better? She’d spent years kicking Kevin’s sorry butt, hoping he’d get a clue before he went too far and did something for which she had to put him behind bars. Was that protecting him from himself or enabling him? She was no longer sure.
Alex smiled widely. “So about my prize…”
“I hardly think learning what my job is was worth the effort of your…artful con.”
“Ahh, but I never said what question I’d ask you.” Alex tsked. “Why would I waste my win on something I could easily find out from asking anyone in here?”
Sam’s heart started pounding. “What?”
“Don’t look so stricken. I’m not about to ask anything embarrassing. Promise.”
“What do you want to know?” Sam pushed the words out as a litany of personal questions invaded her mind. She braced herself.
Alex stared at her in astonishment. “What are you imagining?”
“Just ask.” Sam gritted her teeth. She was an honorable woman, so she’d answer and do so honestly. And then she’d simply avoid this woman for the remaining few months Alex was here.
“Why Ika Whenu? From what I’ve seen, you seem smart, strong, and capable. You could go anywhere, do anything. But here you are.”
Sam debated how to answer. “It’s…complicated.”
“So are my taxes. Trust me.” Alex’s smile was gentle. “And you can do better than that. Remember, no less than fifty words.”
A bang near the nearby fire-escape door startled them, and they turned as it began to open. A familiar-looking young man with a bowed head encased in a beanie headed for the bar.
Sam watched him closely, trying to place him.
He reached the patrons waiting to be served. To squeeze past the first young woman, he placed his hands on her waist, muttered “’Scuse me,” and physically shifted her to one side to get past.
That voice. Fletcher bloody Norton.
“Ugh,” Alex said in disgust. “I hate it when guys do that. And they only do it to women, especially women my size.” She looked indignant.
Sam said grimly, “He shouldn’t even be in here. He’s banned.”
Fletcher came up to a tiny, brightly dressed older woman with gray-blonde hair. One of the Shezan people. He attempted his waist-grabbing-and-relocating maneuver on her, and his hand slid across her backside when he was done. The woman’s head snapped around to glare at him, as she jerked away from him.
“The hell!” Alex’s infuriated voice said. “Did you see what he did to Skye? That’s assault.”
“I’ll deal with it,” Sam said, rising. “Gina already has him on her blacklist for some trouble he started last night over two local girls.”
“Wait! Do you mean the Duncan sisters?”
Sam paused. “Yes?”
“Is he that reprobate who was terrorizing them all over social media?”
“That’s the one.” She strode toward him. “Fletcher Norton!” she ordered sharply.
He turned, caught sight of her, and quailed.
“A quiet word, if you please.” Sam crooked her finger and angled her head toward the corner of the room.
“Or a loud one,” Alex interjected, behind her. She called out, “Like, keep your bloody groping mitts to yourself.”
Sam grabbed Fletcher by the rugby jersey and pulled him out of the crowd at the bar. “This way, Mr. Norton.”
“Hey, I didn’t do nothin’! I just came to apologize to Christine and Kelly,” he whined.
“Then you probably should have picked a time when they were actually in attendance and a place that didn’t involve your being banned,” Sam said curtly. “Move it.” She tugged him again. “We’re going to have a chat about how you treat women.”
Alex’s eyes narrowed. “A chat? This knuckle-dragger had two of our Shezan cast in tears today! And he grabbed Skye’s ass! He needs a lot more than a polite word asking him to pretty please be a good boy. Bollocks! He needs a kick in the damned pants!”
Fletcher’s shocked expression at being shredded by a furious woman half his size set the entire room tittering.
Sam let go of him and rounded on Alex. “This is not your concern. Let me deal with this matter.”
“Or, hey, much better idea, let me deal with it. He’s messed with my people, so I have the responsibility, not you.”
“It was just a bit of fun,” Fletcher complained. “And they got all offended.”
So much for claiming he was here to apologize. Sam scow
led. The idiot was just sorry he couldn’t get a beer with his friends.
“Here’s a pro tip,” Alex shot at him, “a joke involves laughter.”
Sam’s voice hardened. “Alex, I need you to step back and let me do my job.”
Frowning, Alex opened her mouth to protest.
“Um, hey, Alex?” Sid called out helpfully. “Mad respect and all, like, serious props, but I think ‘cop’ trumps ‘director.’ Y’know?”
Alex’s wide eyes met Sam’s. “Cop?”
Director? Sam sucked in a shocked breath. Alex is that crappy movie’s director? She’s behind all this?
The room exploded into laughter.
“Oh, didn’t you know, love?” Gina’s voice carried cheerfully across the ruckus. “Senior Constable Keegan is our town’s cop. And a mighty fine one at that.”
Sam blocked out the howls of mirth. “You are the director of that…? You have to be kidding me.”
“Why so shocked?” Alex folded her arms.
“You have to ask?” Was she serious? “Because Shezan is such a B-grade, misogynistic pile of crap.”
A hard glint appeared in Alex’s eyes.
Sam couldn’t care less. She had to understand what she’d done. “Our local women shouldn’t be forced to parade around in next to nothing to be mocked by idiots like Fletch.”
“Hey!” Fletcher protested.
“Shut up!” Sam and Alex snapped simultaneously.
He inched away from them. “Okay, so if you two don’t need me anymore, I’ll just…” He jerked his thumb behind him toward the exit.
“No. Stay. I’m not done with you,” Sam ordered. Eyeballing Alex, she said, “Look, the fact is you and this film are the reason the Duncan sisters copped abuse in the first place. Those obscene costumes alone—”
“Are you for real? I’m to blame for his bad behavior? Are you going to let him off the hook? My people deserve respect, not abuse, damn it!”
A few whistles and claps from the cast and crew reverberated.
“I agree!” Sam threw her hands up in frustration. “I’m the one who’s been defending them.”
“Actually all you’re doing is making shitty assumptions. We’ve been working on addressing the film’s issues, such as costumes, which you’d know if you had asked any of us. But my main problem is that the message you’re sending to everyone here is that cowards like Fletcher aren’t responsible for trolling and hurting young women because a movie made him do it!”
“I…” Hell! Sam’s brain stuttered to a halt. Was that really what she was saying? No! She’d been protecting her town! She knew that, but did everyone here think she’d been giving Fletch a free pass? Heat from anger and embarrassment started creeping up Sam’s neck as Alex regarded her evenly, waiting for an answer.
Fletcher took advantage of the stand-off. “Crazy bitches,” he muttered, before shoving Sam out of the way to sprint back out the fire-escape door.
The hard slam of his hands caught the worst point of Sam’s abused ribs. Agony seared her like slicing knives. “Oh fuck,” she gasped out, clutching her side. She folded like a deck chair and dropped to her knees.
“No!” Gina rushed over, pushing aside customers in her haste.
“Sam!” Alex said at the same time.
Sid bolted after Fletcher, shouting, “I’ll get the bastard! No one hurts my sister!”
“Sister?” Alex peered after him in puzzlement.
All Sam knew was pain. “Ahh.” The word came out small and pathetic. Shit.
“I’ll get you to the doctor,” Alex said. “Who’s closest?”
“I’ll be okay. Gimme a minute,” Sam ground out. Damn, damn, damn. Now Dino’s gang would know within the hour that Ika Whenu’s cop was out of action. They’d probably be selling meth outside the high school by morning. Well, probably not, but they could. And who would stop them?
“You’re not okay!” Alex snapped. “Stop saying you are.”
“What’s happened?” Gina bent down beside her. “Oh bub, I knew this morning you weren’t yourself. How’d you hurt yourself this time?”
“It’s nothing,” Sam hissed. “I’m going home to rest. But I just…I need a minute.”
“I’ll make sure you get there,” Alex said firmly. “Where’s home?”
“Next to the police station.” Gina gave her an approving look. “On Main Street.”
“Right.” Alex nodded. “I know where it is.”
“No!” Sam barked. “Both of you, stop it! I don’t need help.” She glared at Alex. “And this wouldn’t have happened if you’d let me do my job. Now, back off! I. Am. Fine.”
With that, she pushed off the ground, burying a groan of pain, and shoved open the exit door. She did it with all the force of her rising fury, hoping she wouldn’t look as weak as she felt, and regretted it instantly. The jarring sensation shuddered up and down her body.
Glancing back, she caught Gina’s worried frown in a sea of curious faces…and Alex.
Alex’s expression was hooded and dark. Concern mingled with irritation in that gaze, and suddenly, more than anything, Sam wished she’d never clapped eyes on her.
Alex was maddening, nosy, bossy, and worse. Much worse: She was the person behind that terrible movie.
Sam injected so much anger and frustration into her parting glare that it should have melted the Under-18s netball trophy on the shelf above the juke box.
Alex simply met her stare evenly. Then, like she wasn’t even the least bit intimidated, she pointed at Sam’s side and mouthed: “Get that looked at.”
CHAPTER 7
Loyalties and Lies
What Sam appreciated most about Te Aroha & District Community Hospital was that it was just far enough away from Ika Whenu that she could hunker down into her hoodie and be ignored and anonymous. Not that she could entirely relax here, though. Hospitals—or the smell of them—reminded her of visiting her mother. To this day, harsh disinfectants always made her a little nauseous.
“Nothing broken,” Dr. Sue-Yin Linn told her when the scans and X-rays came back, “despite the extensive bruising. Although there’s one hair-line fractured rib on the left side.”
That explained the pain. Splatting off walls only worked out for cartoon coyotes, it seemed.
“Why did you delay treatment?” Dr. Linn continued. “Concussions can kill, young lady. Well, the subdural hematoma can, if you want to get specific.”
Young lady? Sam was thirty-six and had shouldered more responsibilities before age twelve than most people would ever know.
“I can see by your face you want to say some things to me.” Dr. Linn smiled. “Go right ahead. Get it off your chest.”
“No thanks.” Sam scowled and zipped her hoodie back up. “I’ll leave it to your imagination.”
“Clever.” Dr. Linn sighed. “Listen, Senior Constable, it’s not my place, but you really do need to have some sort of a buddy system. I’ve been complaining about these solo police stations for years. It’s a research project of mine. And I often write to the Letters to the Editor column of the Herald, pointing out their pitfalls. Does anyone listen? No.”
Yes, Sam knew about the doctor’s one-woman campaign. It was one of the things she appreciated about her. Not that she’d ever say.
“So if New Zealand Police can’t provide you with adequate ongoing backup, can you at least tell a trusted family member or friend when you’re about to do something monumentally…” Dr. Linn paused. “Risky.”
Risky? Not stupid? Sam admired her restraint. “I’ll take that under advisement.”
“Which means you’ll ignore me till the next time you’re in here. Look, it’s your life, but you’re too young to die.”
Die? Sam’s head snapped up. “I fell off a ten-foot wall. That’s hardly life threatening.”
“This time.
And what about next time?” She faded out at Sam’s back-off glare. “All right, fine. Be all brave then. And I’ll be here waiting when your luck runs out. In the meantime, I might write another scathing letter to the Herald complaining about the risks of understaffed regional stations.”
“You do that.” Sam stood. “Is that everything?”
Dr. Linn huffed out a breath. “Apparently.” She slid some paperwork across the desk. “Your painkillers. Ibuprofen, 800mg, three times a day. Can I convince you not to go back to work for a few days?” Her expression was resigned.
“I think you know the answer. Ika Whenu relies on me. I can’t just not be there for days on end. As it is, I’ve already been off duty too long.”
“That’s not how injuries work, but I had a feeling you’d say that. Desk work only for a fortnight. Okay? Nothing vigorous outside of work, either.”
Sam opened her mouth to protest.
“No, I mean it. Sit your pretty butt at your desk for a full two weeks. No…” she checked her notes, “daily jogs or scaling walls. Failure to get adequate rest will only prolong recovery. It’ll mean you won’t be able to get on that motorcycle of yours for even longer.”
Sam’s eyebrows lifted. “I never mentioned my bike.”
“You didn’t have to. You think I don’t see you roar through town on your way to the trails once a week? You’re hard to miss.” Dr. Linn cocked her head. “Remember two months ago, when you got written up in the newspaper for finding that marijuana crop? You arrested the Brady brothers…all four of them? Amazing, given they’re all bigger than my car.”
“What do you drive?” Sam drawled. “Because that might not be too impressive.”
“Well, it impressed the hell out of my intern, who has a huge crush on you. I get regular reports whenever you fly through our neck of the woods on that shiny black bike.”
“Great.” Sam rammed her hands in her hoodie pockets. “Send him my regrets.”
“Her.”
Sam paused, intrigued for half a second at the possibilities, before remembering all the reasons complications were not for her. “Her then.”
Dr. Linn’s smile became rueful. “Lord knows I tried.” She tapped the paperwork. “Go. Take your meds. Behave. Stay off high walls. Live to fight another day.”