Southern Sunset: Book One of 44 South

by Nicola Claire

  Bad Fucking Timing

  Luke

  I finished loading the fence palings into the back of the ute. Charlie had missed them off this morning’s order and as he’d discovered a broken segment to the section four fence, it needed to be addressed immediately. It was the sort of thing I should be telling Maggie. The sheep, which found themselves on vineyard land, could well have escaped section four through this gap in the fence.

  Of course, how they covered that sort of distance between section four and the vineyard was anyone’s guess. But it wasn’t impossible; there was a rough track we used for recreational riding. In fact, it led to the ridge Matt would have ridden yesterday. In his current blinkered and alcohol fuelled state, he’d probably missed the broken fence completely.

  I sighed. I had absolutely no idea how to reach my brother. And the longer it took for him to kick his own arse out of the gutter, the worse it got. Hell, even the timber yard was talking about Matt now.

  Everyone was.

  I slammed the tailgate of the ute shut and turned to walk around the side to the driver’s door. A guy in a suit and fucking tie caught my attention before I could get in, waving out from across the carpark. He picked up pace and jogged over toward me. I didn’t recognise him and he didn’t have the look of a stock agent about him. Of course, iLovestock were a pack of wankers and this could be Whiting’s boss. Here to grill me.

  I leaned back against the Ranger and narrowed my eyes, waiting for him to reach me. If iLivestock thought they could add to the clusterfuck that was Red Tussock’s standing in the farming community, they had another fucking thing coming.

  “Mr Drake?” the man asked, reaching into his pocket and drawing out a card. “Luke Drake?”

  I nodded my head as he handed over his business card.

  “My name’s Mark Everett. I’m a senior investigator with the IPCA.”

  “IPCA?” I queried looking down at the card. Not iLivestock. But not good either.

  “Independent Police Complaints Authority,” the guy said. “I’m glad I caught you. I didn’t fancy turning up at Red Tussock unannounced.”

  “There is such a thing as a phone,” I pointed out.

  “Yes,” he said, a glint of amusement reaching his eyes. He’d had no intention of ‘announcing’ his arrival in Twizel.

  “You’re a long way from home, Mr Everett,,” I remarked. His card said Wellington. IPCA was located within a spitting distance of Police National Headquarters at a guess.

  “Yes. I roam the country when required.”

  “And you’re required here,” I guessed.

  “I think you know why,” he said carefully.

  I pocketed his card and turned toward the front of my vehicle.

  “This won’t go away,” Everett said. “Your brother has been on our watch list for several months.”

  I said nothing, reaching for the door handle of my ute.

  “You could make this so much easier for him and the Twizel Police Station if you cooperated.”

  I looked over my shoulder and held his knowing stare. I hated him on principle. This fucktard had heard rumours, nothing more. And had decided to investigate. Matt was a good cop. At least, he used to be. He was going through shit right now, but that did not mean he was corrupt or had broken any laws and needed to be treated like a criminal.

  “I have nothing to say,” I said, opening my car door and sliding into the seat.

  Everett stepped forward, blocking the door so I couldn’t close it.

  “I’ll be in town for a while,” he offered. “Staying at the Mackenzie Country Inn. The more involved you are in the investigation, the less likely it will impact your station.”

  My hands fisted the steering wheel.

  “Are you threatening Red Tussock?” I demanded.

  “No. Of course not. I’m just explaining how things will go.”

  “You have no idea how a small town works, Mr Everett,” I pointed out. “We look after our own.”

  “Police officers must be held accountable. Do you honestly think the Twizel Board of the Mackenzie Country Council have not endorsed this investigation?”

  “I think you’re full of shit,” I snapped.

  “We’ll see, Mr Drake. We’ll see.” He backed away from the door and I slammed it. Starting the ute, I refused to look the guy in the eye. My tyres spun a little as I tore out of the building supplies carpark.

  This shit just got real. Matt would not cope with losing his job as well as his wife. Hell, he’d practically lost his daughters; they were shadows of the vibrant little girls they’d once been. Take policing away from him and he’d crack.

  But then, Matt was already close to cracking anyway.

  I slammed my hand down on the dashboard and then pulled out my cell phone. Swiping the screen, I called my brother.

  There was no answer. There rarely is, nowadays.

  The cell was police issue, so I didn’t leave a message. But on the off chance Sheila knew where Matt was, I pulled into the police station on Tasman Road. Mac’s ute was there and so was Maggie’s Commodore. The garage was closed, so there was still a chance Matt was on station.

  It was with a sense of disgust at myself for believing anything good of Matt right now that I pushed through the front doors. Matt had been AWOL from life and from this place for six months now. Mac had covered. Sheila had done her part to hold it all together. But the cracks were showing. Murmurs on the street. The local council board involved. It was a sinking ship and Matt would end up drowning.

  Sheila glanced up from the reception as the door squeaked open and smiled, breaking my morbid train of thought.

  “Long time no see, Handsome!” she exclaimed, standing up and rounding the desk, swooping in for a kiss on the cheek.

  “Sheila, sweetheart. You look stunning.” She was a pink and green symphony of colour.

  “Oh, you!” She swatted me on the arm and returned to her side of reception. “What brings you all the way into town?”

  “Fences.”

  “Ah, that’d do it. Lotta fences on Red Tussock.”

  “Damn straight.” I smiled. Sheila could always make me smile. “Matt around?” I asked.

  Her own smile faltered, then she rallied. We were all doing that a lot lately.

  “Hasn’t been in this morning,” she admitted quietly.

  “Did he phone in?”

  She shook her head, her lips pursing. “You know I love you Drake boys, don’t you, Luke?” she said, voice lowered as if she wanted to hide what she was saying from the officers out back.

  “I know, Sheila,” I replied, patting her plump, highly manicured hand as it sat on the desk.

  “That boy,” she said, shaking her head on a sigh. “What can we do? Something needs to be done.”

  “It will be,” I promised. “Say, you recognise this name?” I asked, pushing the IPCA investigator’s business card across the desk between us. Sheila lifted up her glasses from where they were hanging around her neck and narrowed her eyes at the text through the lenses.

  I knew it was a risk letting her know this early on in the guy’s arrival. She’d find out soon enough, I was sure. But Sheila had a tendency to gossip. Maybe Twizel needed to be warned. Sheila and the others at the police station sure as hell did, anyway.

  “IPCA?” she whispered on a gasp. “Here?”

  I nodded.

  “Oh, hell,” she muttered, starting to tidy up her desk.

  “Sheila,” I said. She stopped fussing and looked up at me. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. OK?”

  She bit her bottom lip. “And Matt?”

  That was an entirely other thing. I slipped the card back into my pocket, scowling, just as Maggie rounded the partition to the reception area.

  Her eyes met mine. My chest ridiculously constricted. And then she smiled. It reached her eyes.

  Gone. I was so fucking gone for this girl.

  Bad fucking timing.

  Chapter 27

&nbs
p; I’m Here For Matt Drake

  Maggie

  The shock of hearing Luke’s voice from in reception morphed into delight at the sight of him. Then promptly segued into worry. He looked exhausted; dark circles beneath his eyes and he hadn’t shaved. Not that Luke was the sort of guy to go clean shaven often, but his stubble did look a little scruffy, bordering on beard territory.

  “Hey,” I said, aware Sheila was watching the exchange avidly.

  “Hey back,” Luke said, a smile twitching the corner of his lips. For a moment, my gaze got snagged there, until Luke added in a deeply amused voice, “Missed me, huh?”

  I blinked, feeling a ridiculous blush creep up my cheeks, and swung a startled look toward Sheila. Luke’s low rumble of a laugh caught my attention again and when I turned to look at him, he didn’t seem as weary. His dark eyes sparkled with mirth and he seemed to stand much straighter, taller, all of a sudden.

  Damn, but he could look attractive.

  “Funny,” I replied, giving him a mock scowl for his efforts. “For a farmer, you sure as hell don’t do much farming. What brings you into Twizel?”

  “Fencing. You know, those things that crisscross all over a farm.”

  “Laugh a minute,” I said, unable to stop a grin from emerging. Then I sobered. “Was there a problem?” Why else would he be here?

  “Just catching up with Sheila,” Luke advised. “She missed me.”

  “You keep me out of this, Luke Drake,” Sheila admonished.

  “How can I, when you always brighten my day?” he shot back. Sheila huffed, but I didn’t miss the mutual respect and affection they had for each other.

  “Now, now,” she said. “Admit it. You came in here to see our Maggie.”

  “My Maggie,” Luke corrected, his challenging gaze holding my startled one.

  “Luke,” I warned.

  “What? You think no one knows about us? Sweetheart, this is Twizel.”

  “It doesn’t help that you fan the flames.”

  He took a step toward me; I held my ground.

  “Maggie,” he said, voice firm. “I’d shout it from the top of Mount Cook if I thought anyone would hear me.”

  I stared at him. He was delusional.

  “You really do live in a fantasy world, Mr Drake.”

  He grinned. “Back to ‘Mr Drake’ are we? You know what that means.”

  The blush was back. I rolled my eyes and purposefully turned to look at Sheila. “Don’t believe a word he says,” I instructed. “It’s called erotomanic delusional disorder.”

  “It’s called what?” Luke asked, laughing.

  “Look it up.”

  “Oh, I plan to. But first…” He moved closer. “Dinner. Tonight.”

  Sheila was practically jumping up and down behind her desk, hands clasped together before her heaving bosom, eyes wide as though she was watching a particularly intriguing episode of Shortland Street.

  “Say, yes,” she urged enthusiastically.

  “I’m busy tonight,” I offered, simply because arguing seemed the wisest course of action here.

  Luke leaned down, hot breath coasting over my earlobe, and whispered, only loud enough for me to hear, “You sure will be, darling. Busy with me in my bed.”

  “Luke,” I said on a beleaguered sigh. “This isn’t a wise idea.” So fucking complicated.

  “Maggie,” he shot back. “I need to see you.”

  It wasn’t the words that did it, but the longing and desperation in the tone, the heavy weight that seemed to be weighing down on him. The way he held his hands fisted at his sides, as if it was taking everything in him not to reach out and touch me; wrap me up or fall into me. As if I was all that was keeping him going; the thought of being with me at the end of another horrible day.

  Luke’s days had been hell on earth lately and I was thinking his world devolved into a hell not long after Missy Drake had died. He was constantly propping up his brother. Had a station to run, which had suddenly landed itself in the spotlight. And a family that was looking to him to solve all their problems.

  I slowly nodded my head and his body relaxed, his hands unfurling and one rising up and cupping the side of my neck, thumb directly over my pulse point.

  “Good girl,” he murmured, satisfaction and relief evident in his tone now.

  “I live to serve,” I deadpanned.

  “Don’t give me ideas,” he growled back. “I have a very vivid imagination.”

  “I just bet you do.”

  “Oh,” Sheila said on a happy sigh, “you two are perfect for each other.”

  “Oh, God, don’t you start,” I complained.

  “What did I say?” she asked Luke, genuinely bemused at my reaction.

  “Nothing, sweetheart,” Luke reassured her. “Maggie’s just a little shy.” I snorted.

  “Oh,” she said. “That explains it.” It did? “But if I know you, Luke Drake, you’ll have her dancing to your tune before the end of the week.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I demanded.

  “Well, you see, Luke’s a bit of a…” She broke off when the front door to the station squeaked open. Three sets of eyes swung toward the intruder as if caught in the middle of something decidedly unseemly.

  I pasted a smile on my face for the new comer, aware Sheila had done the same. But Luke had completely frozen. Those hands of his fisting all over again.

  His change in demeanour caught my attention, so I didn’t get a good look at the visitor until it was too late. When he spoke, I swung my gaze back off Luke, my stomach plummeting, a fine sheen of sweat immediately blossoming down my back.

  “Ah, Sergeant Blackmore,” IPCA Senior Investigator Mark Everett greeted. “I’m so glad to have caught you on station.”

  “Fuck,” Luke muttered under his breath. I don’t think Everett heard him, but then the man had ears like a hawk from memory.

  “Mr Everett,” I said, purposefully leaving off his job title. He scowled. Luke did too. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place and I didn’t quite know why.

  “Senior Investigator Everett,” the slime ball corrected.

  “Oh, sorry,” I said, not sounding anything at all like I was. “I was sure you got demoted.”

  “Hardly,” he snapped. “That case was eventually solved.”

  “Eventually,” I agreed. Luke shifted beside me, moving closer. No doubt picking up on my body language.

  I hated this man. Everett had a lot to answer for. And here he was, waltzing into my life again.

  And then it hit me. He was here for Matt. Damn it. My life just got even more complicated.

  Calling his bluff, I asked, “Why are you here, Everett?”

  “Senior Investigator Everett, Sergeant Drake. Please remember. Courtesy is a must in this line of business, wouldn’t you say?”

  I ground my teeth, but just arched my brow at him. No way was I repeating myself.

  He waited me out, saying nothing. The silence stretched. Sheila was twisting her hands in front of her body. Mac and Annmarie had come out from behind the partition to see what was up. And Luke was vibrating with rage.

  “Oh, very well,” Everett said on an exaggerated sigh. “I’m here for Matt Drake.”

  He pierced Luke with a pertinent glare, making me realise they’d met already. How long had the investigator been in Twizel?

  And how much did he already know?

  Chapter 28

  Maggie Was Magnificent When Riled

  Luke

  Fuck! I’d been aware that twit was going to make himself known to Maggie eventually, but I hadn’t realised she’d recognise the fucker. And my suspicions grew the more they conversed. Maggie certainly didn’t have much time for the man, but I’d never seen her react like this. It was more emotional than Maggie had ever been, and I couldn’t help thinking it was all an act.

  Maggie could hide her feelings when she wanted to; tamp down on emotions and appear nonchalant. She only gave herself away when she s
miled. I’m not sure everyone could tell Maggie’s smile was fake, but I’d known from the moment I’d laid eyes on her that was her tell.

  Now I wondered if I could add overreaction as a diversion to that tally as well. Maggie’s obvious dislike of the man was masking something. I just hoped like hell it wasn’t masking something significant. Like maybe the fact that she was here on IPCA’s behest.

  “And this is how you introduce yourself?” Maggie demanded.

  “I’m making all the pertinent persons aware of my arrival.”

  “When did you arrive here exactly?” Maggie asked.

  “Last night, if you must know, Sergeant.”

  “I must,” Maggie snapped. “And how long do you intend to stay?”

  “As long as it takes.”

  “Previous experience tells me that you could be in Twizel for some time, then,” Maggie concluded.

  Everett bristled. “If you obstruct my investigation again, Sergeant, then yes.”

  I had to smile when Maggie grinned. There was nothing fake about that one. It was completely self-congratulatory.

  “Don’t blame me for your cock-ups, Everett.”

  The man huffed incredulously. “I see working with you is going to be a challenge. Yet again.”

  “Not at all,” Maggie said steadily. “Because you won’t be working with me.”

  “Oh, yes I will,” Everett argued, puffing up like a pissed off peacock. “Everyone here at Twizel Police Station will, in fact. By order of the Board of Mackenzie Country Council.”

  “Bullshit,” Mac growled, entering the conversation. “They wouldn’t condone this.”

  “Senior Constable McQueen, I believe?” Everett asked. Mac nodded his head. The IPCA dickhead turned to look at Annmarie. “And you must be Constable Antil.” His voice was kind and fatherly. “You and I must become better acquainted, my dear.”

  “She’s a probationary constable,” Mac snapped. Annmarie winced at the reminder, one I was sure she received from the hard-nosed Andrew McQueen every day of her life. “She won’t be talking to you without me.”