by JC Grey
Annoyed, she jogged down the stairs. She had her hand on the study door when she stopped. Last time she’d been in here it was to see bitch repeated a hundred times on her laptop. Did she want to be reminded of that yet?
The kettle whistled and she went to make coffee for one, taking her mug out to the car, where she pulled the wooden storage crates she’d borrowed from Rosmerta from the trunk. Leaning against the ute, she gazed around with a critical eye. With the interior looking so good, she’d need to turn her attention to the outside. Soon, the weather should turn cool enough to spend some time planting, to restore the gardens to how they had looked in Gram’s day. With any luck she would be able to make a start before leaving for the States.
By then, the boys would have the ground floor under control and could work on the first-floor bedrooms and bathroom, as well as preparing the barn to be used for parking and storage.
Macauley had kept an anxious eye to the horizon during the last couple of days. The usual storm season had passed without incident, but the lack of rain meant the ground was tinder-dry and a high risk for fire. With no rain since the day she’d lost the baby, everywhere was brown and red, and even the old gums were limp and parched. It reminded her she needed to water Skye’s tree, but when she hauled a bucket of water over, she found the soil around it was still a little moist. Mac must have been out or asked the boys to water it.
She smiled as she watered the tree carefully, and then stood for a moment in reflective silence as thunder boomed far, far away, before returning to the house and her dusty chores.
When Mac rode up to the old stockman’s hut, he saw Paddy outside, waiting. Not amused, he swiped his hat off his head to flap at the marauding flies that seemed even worse than usual.
‘You brought me on a wild goose chase?’ he chided the dog. Paddy barked and turned to scratch at the door, which opened under the pressure. Sighing, Mac dismounted and looped True’s reins around the fence post. It was then that he noticed the faint vehicle tracks in the dirt, heading away from Rosmerta land. Someone had been here, and relatively recently.
‘Mad dogs and Australians, huh?’ he whispered conspiratorially to the animal.
He ducked his head under the low doorframe of the hut. It looked pretty much as expected; neater, if anything. A rusting pan stood on the old camp stove, and blankets were piled neatly on the bunks. He’d used the place once or twice over the years, as had Amos, but he couldn’t imagine any of the younger hands stooping so low. No wide-screen TV; no luxuries at all.
Paddy was down low, sniffing, tail high. Who knew what had been here? The hut wasn’t exactly animal-proof. At some point he’d need to come out here with Amos to fix it up, but it wasn’t exactly a priority with the extra mustering work they’d have until decent rains fell.
‘Enough of this, mate,’ he said to Paddy. ‘Need to see to the fire breaks and then home.’ He rolled his shoulders to alleviate the unease that sat there whenever Blaze was out of his sight.
Paddy jumped up on the bed, put the ragged cap down, went down on his haunches and growled.
Mac stilled, feeling a fool. He looked around the place with fresh eyes. Cowboys didn’t leave blankets squared away with almost obsessive neatness. Nor did they stack food cans with military precision. The floor, too, was swept clean.
‘Emily’s been here, hasn’t she?’ he asked Paddy. But the dog continued to tear at the cap until it was in pieces. Then he jumped down from the bunk and went out through the door.
Mac took out his mobile, but the patchy coverage near to the homestead was non-existent this far from civilisation.
‘Damn.’ He wanted to get back to the homestead and assure himself that Blaze was safe. Logically, though, he knew she was fine. Amos and the boys were working close to home if there was any trouble.
Working quickly, he turned over the small room, looking for confirmation that Emily had been here, but there was nothing – nothing except Paddy’s strange behaviour and the hairs standing up on his neck. The fire breaks would have to wait until later.
True’s hooves churned the red dust into a wake that followed them on the hour-long ride home. Mac was in sight of the homestead before his mobile signal was restored. There was a message from Ryan, he noted, but he didn’t have time to worry about that right now.
He galloped right up to the house, passing the astonished hands, and pulled True to a halt. Vaulting off, he saw Amos come running, and took the steps two at a time. He burst in on a surprised Peg.
‘Blaze. Where is she?’ He didn’t wait for her answer, striding into his office. ‘Blaze!’ It was empty.
‘Mac, she went out just after you,’ Peggy said, rushing in after him. ‘She headed over to Sweet Springs to sort out some things. I told her you had the dog —’
‘What the hell’s goin’ on?’ Amos said from the doorway.
Mac held up a hand as he rang Blaze’s mobile. Somewhere in the room, a phone sprang cheerily to life. Peg retrieved it from down the side of the chair where Blaze had been sitting just that morning.
Slowly, Mac cancelled the call, telling himself to breathe. She’d simply left her phone behind. She was fine. The fact that Emily Williams might have taken shelter at the hut had nothing to do with Blaze. The girl probably just had nowhere to go and had been too embarrassed to say so. Probably explained why she’d hung around after Mac had told her she could finish up, too.
Just as he took Blaze’s phone from Peggy, it started ringing again and Rowdy’s name appeared on the display. Frowning, he listened to the man’s shocked, almost incoherent voice say that Marianne had gone into labour and he and Trent were taking her to the hospital so they wouldn’t be going to work. More worried than ever, Mac told Rowdy he would let Blaze know, and quickly ended the call.
‘What is it?’ Amos pressed.
‘Blaze.’ He dialled her landline number. It rang and rang until he stopped it with a stab of his thumb. ‘She’s alone at Sweet Springs and I can’t reach her.’
Chapter Sixteen
Heat radiated through the tinted windscreen despite the air conditioning going full tilt, and Blaze felt sweat trickle down her neck as she turned off the road towards Rosmerta. God, she’d be glad to get inside and into a cool shower.
Then she’d find out what the hell had happened to Rowdy and Trent. If her builder had returned to his old ways during her brief absence, she’d —
She slammed on the brakes just centimetres short of ramming Mac’s truck as it barrelled up the drive in the opposite direction.
Mac was out of the truck and wrenching her door open before she could turn off the engine. He did it for her, unclipped her seat belt and hauled her out on to the bitumen, hands cupping her face and turning it from one side to the other as though checking for signs of injury.
‘What . . . Mac, calm down. What’s going on?’ she stuttered.
He said nothing, but ran his hands down her arms, around her back and pulled her close.
‘Are you all right?’ When he eventually spoke, his voice was hoarse, shaking.
‘Apart from being crushed and asphyxiated by my lover, yes,’ she muttered, mouth pressed against his throat. She pushed back the two centimetres he permitted. ‘What happened, Mac?’
‘Nothing,’ he murmured. ‘Everything’s good.’
Footsteps sounded close by and Blaze looked up to meet the worried looks of Amos and Peg.
‘Gawd, ya gave the boss a scare, Miz Blaze,’ Amos said, panting. ‘See, Peg, she’s right as rain.’
‘Yes, I’m fine. Except I wish someone would tell me what’s going on.’
‘You two come on up to the house when you’re ready. I’m making fresh lemonade,’ Peggy said, tugging Amos back towards the house. ‘Come on, Amos. You can tell Beau and the boys the panic’s over while I get busy. Never known a place like this for drama.’
Blaze waited until they were out of earshot to take a step back. This time Mac let her.
‘You left your mobile behi
nd.’ Mac handed it to her.
‘I know. I must have left it there after speaking to . . . the States this morning. Is that what this is all about?’
‘I couldn’t reach you,’ Mac said. ‘I thought something might have happened, and I couldn’t reach you.’
Blaze frowned. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m fine. I can look after myself, you know.’
‘Until the cops have someone in custody, I told you I don’t want you on your own. Not for one fucking minute.’
‘Mac,’ she warned, hands on hips.
‘Non-negotiable,’ he said, mouth a straight line.
‘Oh, is that right?’
Hands on her shoulders, he dragged her close again. ‘Damned right it is.’
Blaze felt his mouth against her temple, the rapid thud of his heart and felt it smooth the edge right off her indignation.
‘I know you were worried but I can’t keep life at arm’s length just in case something happens. It’s as good as telling the creep he’s won.’
Mac sighed. ‘Blaze . . .’
‘And I never intended to be alone. You,’ she drilled her forefinger into his rock-hard abs, ‘took my dog. And then Rowdy and Trent didn’t show up.’
‘Ah, well, Rowdy called you earlier.’ He gave her the message.’
Her mouth dropped open. She looked at Mac and grinned. ‘Wow . . . just . . . wow! I need to get to the hospital.’
‘I knew you’d say that. I’ll take you.’
‘Okay.’ She glanced down at herself as she got back into her car. ‘I need to shower and change first. I’m filthy.’
‘You go on in,’ Mac said, shutting her door and leaning in. ‘I’ll phone Rowdy and see how things are going. You know it might be hours yet before anything happens.’
Blaze kissed him, her mouth lingering. ‘It’s going to be okay, you know,’ she said when they withdrew.
Mac nodded but said nothing, and watched her drive up to the house. Before he got back into his truck, he looked northwards to where the clear blue sky darkened to the colour of a bruise and wished he had her confidence.
As it turned out, by the time they reached Meriwether Hospital, Marianne was the proud mother of a bald-headed, red-faced infant who sported the name Keisha and a pink headband, just in case anyone wasn’t clear as to gender.
Mac watched Blaze closely as they walked into a maternity department. Her hand gripped his just a little more tightly and her face turned solemn for a brief instant as they passed the door to what had been her room. After that, there was no place for solemnity, only joy.
Mac handed her the bouquet of flowers they’d bought from the florist downstairs and waited outside, not wanting to intrude on Marianne’s privacy. Mind you, from the talk and laughter coming from inside, it sounded like they were having quite a party, with Rowdy an unlikely instigator.
A minute later, the door to Marianne’s room opened and Rowdy’s face peeked out. He was beaming from ear to ear as though the baby in his arms was his own personal miracle.
‘Congratulations, mate.’ Mac clapped a hand on the older man’s shoulder. He peered at the baby whose mottled skin and misshapen head made the pink bow the prettiest thing about her. In the circumstances, though, diplomacy was called for.
Rowdy chuckled. ‘She’s a corker, isn’t she?’
‘She is that,’ Mac agreed. Anything that could bring delight to so many people deserved to be called a corker, whatever her looks.
‘She’s going to have a daddy, too. Young Trent’s just proposed.’
‘Busy day.’
‘A real good one.’ The smile dropped a little. ‘Marianne’s mum and dad are visiting this afternoon.’
‘That’s a good thing, isn’t it? She needs all the help she can get.’
‘Her mum’s already made noises about Marianne going back home to live.’ He held the baby just a little closer.
Mac nodded in sympathy. It was clear the old man feared separation from the little family. ‘Don’t sweat it, mate. Just let it play out.’
Rowdy nodded and went back inside, not looking entirely convinced, and a few seconds later he heard Blaze say her goodbyes.
‘All right?’ he asked when she appeared, but he could tell from her glowing face that any thoughts of her own loss were a long way from her mind.
‘She’s so beautiful, Mac.’
He stopped. ‘Seriously?’ Saw she was. ‘Never mind. You want to get something to eat? I reckon we both missed lunch.’
‘Sure.’
‘I’ll call Peg and tell her we’re eating out,’ he said, looping an arm across her shoulder as they walked back towards the Audi. When he got his phone out, he saw the reminder of the unplayed message Ryan had left hours before. After speaking to Peg, he listened to it with growing surprise.
‘What?’ Blaze asked when he’d finished. He opened the door for her and then got in beside her before he answered.
‘Ryan’s arrested Peter Woodall.’
‘The guy you fired?’
‘Yeah. Went around to Woodall’s father’s place where Pete is staying, following a tip-off, and found a lipstick that matches the shade used to write on your bathroom mirror.’
‘Burnt sienna?’
Mac nodded. For a moment he had been so sure that Emily Williams was involved, he’d forgotten all about Woodall. ‘I want to drop by the cop shop. See if Ryan can tell us any more.’
‘But why would Woodall do that? I’ve never met the guy,’ Blaze said as Mac drove out of the car park towards the police station.
He looked at her. ‘Honey, I hope you never have to.’
After Blaze and Mac had waited nearly an hour at the station to speak with Detective Sergeant Ryan, he emerged briefly from interviewing Pete Woodall, looking tired and frustrated.
‘There’s nothing more I can tell you,’ he said, ushering them over to a bank of hard seats. ‘Crime Stoppers got an anonymous tip and one of our guys recognised the make-up brand, but Woodall says he’s not been near Sweet Springs and has no idea how the lipstick wound up in his place.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Apparently, he has been known to book escorts from an agency in town, and says the make-up could have been left behind by one of the ladies, although he says he hasn’t had the cash for it since Mac let him go. I haven’t been able to confirm it with the agency as their lawyer is on his high horse about client privacy. We’re working on it, but it’ll probably be a couple of days before we get access to the files, longer before we get forensic results on the lipstick.’ He looked at Blaze. ‘Not like Law & Order. All wrapped up in sixty minutes with time for commercial breaks.’
Blaze raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m not an imbecile, Detective Sergeant.’
He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Sorry. I wish I could tell you we got our perp, and that he also attacked Peggy Fairchild and the dog. Wrap it up neatly so you guys aren’t looking over your shoulder, but I can’t. We’ll keep him in overnight, though. Have another go tomorrow.’ He stood up.
Mac stood, too. ‘Your best guess, Andy. Is he the one?’
‘Jeez, Mac.’
‘Best guess, that’s all.’
Ryan huffed out a sigh. ‘Look, I can see him for the lipstick stunt and the attack on the dog. His only alibi for the break-in at Sweet Springs is his dad, and the acorn didn’t fall far from the tree in this case, if you know what I mean.’
‘Motive?’
‘Nothing specific, but when has an idiot like Woodall needed a motive for causing mayhem? The attack on Peggy, for which there is motive – assuming he was planning to get back at you, Mac – is still problematic, given he was in custody at the time. Plus, the level of violence involved . . . well, I really don’t know. We’re looking at the possibility he put a mate up to it. Guy mixes with a few real bad types.’
‘We deserve answers, Ryan.’
‘I know, but we don’t have any.’ He gave a wry grin. ‘If there’s some good to come out of this, it’s that my boss has crossed you off the list of su
spects, Mac.’
‘Me?’
Ryan laughed. ‘You have . . . close relationships with both Peg and Ms Gillespie, and cops never like coincidences.’
Blaze let out a pent-up breath as she stood. ‘That’s ridiculous!’
‘Not completely,’ Mac said. ‘There is a connection. We just need to work out what it is.’
‘Will you update us tomorrow, Detective Sergeant?’ Blaze asked.
‘Sure.’ Ryan waved goodbye and disappeared.
‘Let’s get out of here,’ Mac said. ‘This place makes me feel guilty by association.’
‘Guilty of what?’ Blaze teased as they walked towards the main restaurant strip.
He laughed. ‘Letting my imagination run away with me, for one. Paddy was still acting out his strange obsession with that cap this morning. Led me on a wild goose chase to an old stockman’s shack. Convinced me our ex-cook had been holed up there, that she —’ He stopped, laughed again. ‘Well, it doesn’t matter now.’
Blaze halted outside a cheerful-looking burger place. ‘Here?’
Mac looked at her. ‘Bob’s Burgers is so not you, honey. I was thinking more about that place.’ He pointed to Yum Sushi, with its upmarket entrance flanked by topiarised plants.
‘You eat sushi?’
‘With a gun pointed at my head,’ he admitted.
Blaze spread her arms. ‘Not armed, and I’m perfectly happy with burgers if they’re good. Can’t really be dating a cattleman and not eat burgers.’
‘They’re good,’ he confirmed, opening the door for her.
Bob, if that was who he was, appeared slightly stunned when they entered but quickly recovered. It was still early, with only a few tables taken, so they were soon seated in a corner by the side window, which gave them privacy from the street.
Blaze forgot about Woodall as she talked about her enthusiasm for the Siren script and Nick Houston, even when Mac’s black eyebrows formed into a scowl.