Dangerous Echoes

by Leisl Leighton

  ‘Fine. I’ll leave you all to organise guard shifts for the morgue. I’m going to work.’

  She turned and left Hartley to discuss the roster with the other men and went back into the morgue. As the door swished shut behind her, Toby stepped out of the X-ray room. ‘Everything okay?’

  Face a blank, Toby said, ‘Fine. I just thought I’d check we hadn’t missed anything.’

  ‘Good idea.’ She turned away and then back again. ‘Are you sure everything is fine? I feel like I’m missing something.’

  ‘No. You’re not missing anything.’

  ‘Okay. Then let’s get to work.’

  ‘There’s nothing I’d like more.’

  She made a quick call to Stephen Thompson, her boss in Melbourne, asking him to prioritise the evidence she’d sent to him and confirm there was more on the way. She then explained to Toby what needed to be done and they set about working up the samples and sorting through the evidence they had from the explosion site, building a story of death and murder.

  Finally, she plugged the medical USB with the X-rays into her computer and brought them up. The fractures in the bone around the parietal lobe were more severe than she’d thought. He’d been hit very hard peri-mortem and if she were to take an educated guess, she’d say it was something rounded and about four to five centimetres across. A pipe of some kind. Or a bat. He would have been dead in seconds. He possibly hadn’t even seen it coming. Although…

  She frowned.

  The angle of the blow didn’t make sense unless the person was nine foot tall. Which could only mean Peter was on his knees when he was hit.

  She brought up the images of his legs. Yes. There was a fracture and tearing of the patella which suggested a hard fall to the knee. She looked at the images of his hands and arms. There was damage to his distal and proximal phalanges and the break across the metacarpals—they were all defensive wounds. Wounds you’d gain in a fight. There was no sign of remodelling, so these injuries had been sustained just before he died.

  He even had a fracture of the radius on the right arm, suggesting he’d lifted his arm to stave off a blow. Although, Peter was left handed, so he would have lifted his left arm. Which was why he’d broken his arm all those years ago when he’d fallen out of the tree she’d dared him to climb. He’d put his left hand out as he fell and given himself a fracture of the ulna and radius. It had been bad. Except…

  She frowned, flipping back to the image of his left arm.

  This body had no indications of breaks on its left arm, either recent or healed.

  This couldn’t be Peter.

  This body was somebody else!

  Chapter Fifteen

  ‘Are you sure?’ Superintendent Katherine Stuart stared at her from across her desk, her expression intelligent, thoughtful. She wasn’t questioning her ability to do her job, just simply asking for verification. Erika understood. Verification was everything.

  ‘I am. But you can see for yourself.’ She handed the Superintendent the USB.

  Erika couldn’t help but shift from one foot to the next, her fingers dancing against her leg as the other woman loaded up the images that turned the whole investigation around.

  Her brother was missing, not dead. And the proof was currently taking way too long to appear on the superintendent’s desktop monitor. ‘You need new computers.’

  ‘Yes. The requisition is in, but as always, these things take time.’

  Erika felt like she was coming out of her skin. She was about to burst. Frustration. Excitement. They both felt the same.

  Hartley grasped her hand, holding her fingers still, his breath brushing across her cheek as he leaned down and whispered, ‘Take a breath before you pass out.’

  She did. And another. He squeezed her hand.

  ‘Better?’

  She nodded. She was better. More centred. Less like she was going to crawl out of her skin.

  Finally, the image blinked onto the monitor. Katherine looked up at her. ‘What am I looking at here?’

  Erika came around the desk and pointed at the image. ‘Peter broke his left arm very badly when he was ten. He had to have an operation and they put plates and screws in so it would heal properly because it was near the growth plates.’

  ‘So we would be seeing screws and the plate?’

  ‘No. They took them out after it was properly healed. However, you would see evidence of the fracture through remodelling here.’ She ran her finger across the screen. ‘And you would also see indentations where the screws held the break in place here and here.’ She looked up from the screen and into Katherine’s slate-blue eyes. ‘There is nothing. No break. No sign of any form of operation. This is not Peter’s arm.’

  ‘Which means this is not Peter.’

  Erika nodded. ‘This,’ she said, poking the screen before standing upright, ‘is somebody else. But even if this isn’t enough proof, I asked Hartley to get Peter’s dental file from Dr Bliss, our old dentist. They don’t match.’ She looked from Hartley to Katherine and back again. ‘I don’t know who this is, but it isn’t Peter. My brother is alive.’

  ‘Then where is he?’

  ‘And why was his wallet found on the victim?’ Hartley added.

  Erika shook her head. ‘I don’t know. Maybe his wallet fell out of his pocket when he went to visit Tyler. I imagine he was going there to talk his friend out of doing something stupid.’ She glanced at Hartley. ‘That sounds like Peter, doesn’t it?’

  He shrugged. ‘I didn’t really have much to do with him anymore.’ She glared at him. ‘But yes, it does sound like something he would do.’

  She nodded. ‘Maybe he even saw the murders and got frightened and ran for it and is in hiding.’ Although, that didn’t really sound like him. She shook her head. ‘I think if we can find out who this is, then we might have a better idea of what happened and where Peter might have got to.’

  Katherine tapped the screen. ‘I can’t believe it’s as innocent as that, Ms Hanson. The wallet wasn’t just found on the floor. It was found in the burned jacket pocket of the deceased. It didn’t get there by mistake. Someone put it there.’

  ‘You think Peter had something to do with these deaths?’

  Katherine’s expression was grim as she met Erika’s gaze. ‘Without further evidence suggesting otherwise, it certainly looks like that might be the case.’

  ‘Why? Because his wallet was found on the deceased?’

  ‘Yes. The most likely reason for that having occurred is that he put it there to make us think he was dead.’

  ‘An autopsy would have quickly proved it wasn’t him. He would have known that.’

  Katherine’s gaze dropped to the computer screen. ‘Yes. But Peter was aware we were without a coroner.’

  ‘As was everyone else in town,’ Hartley said. He gripped Erika’s hand more tightly, held on even when Katherine’s gaze flickered to their hands and her brows raised. He met her questioning expression with an implacable stare, and she gave a curt nod.

  ‘Yes. That’s true. But there is no evidence anyone else was there.’

  ‘That we’ve found. Grim is still analysing those samples we took at the site.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Hair and a piece of material that didn’t belong to the two deceased, as well as the chemical composition of the accelerant. They might give us a clue as to who was there along with the deceased.’

  Katherine sat back in her chair, staring at the screen. ‘I’m glad your brother isn’t one of those bodies, Ms Hanson, but this makes things even more complicated than they were before. It’s also possible someone stole the bodies to try to keep us from finding out this isn’t your brother. Why would they bother doing that if he wasn’t involved in some way?’

  Erika didn’t know the answer to that question. ‘I know he wasn’t involved.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Katherine tapped her fingers on the edge of her desk. ‘How is the rest of the investigation going, Detective?’

  ‘I
’ve pulled Mac in to help. He’s tracking down the stolen ambulance. Ben and the Sarge are tapping their sources around town to see if there’s any other information about Tyler or Peter we don’t already know. And to perhaps shed light on who this is.’ He pointed to the screen.

  ‘Good. Well, until we have something more, I think it’s time you two got some R&R. You both look like you’ve not slept for a week.’

  ‘I’m fine. I just want to get out there and try to find Peter.’

  Hartley’s gaze roved over her face. She tried to steel her expression, but he obviously saw something there she couldn’t hide from him, because he nodded. ‘The Boss is right. Let’s go to the Cooee, get a steak and a drink, and then get you back to the hotel.’

  Erika followed Hartley out of Katherine’s office after saying goodbye to the older woman, but as she hopped in his car, realised she didn’t want to go to the Cooee. Despite the odd feeling of being a part of something earlier, she didn’t feel like seeing any of them right now. She wanted things simple. Quiet. With Hartley. Without people staring at them and making comments about things they didn’t understand. As he started up the car, she said, ‘I’d rather go back to the hotel and eat if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Okay.’

  They drove straight to the hotel. Even though it was only around the corner, it seemed to take forever. She was climbing out of her skin. Her brother wasn’t dead. She wanted to jump for joy. She’d kept it together so far, but now she wanted to celebrate. To do something wild. To just feel the joy of life, rather than the heaviness of loss and death.

  Hartley turned to walk into the bar to order drinks and food, but she stopped him, grabbing his hand. ‘Thank you.’ Before he could say anything, she went up on her tiptoes and kissed him. Even though the caress was brief, fire flared. His hands, which had come to her shoulders to steady her, gripped tighter. She leaned back a little, looking into his eyes.

  It was like looking into a fiery blaze. Heat and desire and passion and something more, something almost frightening, stared back at her. Breath caught in her throat. Nobody looked at her like Hartley. Nobody ever had. It was…thrilling.

  ‘Erika,’ he breathed, his breath brushing over her face.

  ‘Harts.’ She knew what he was asking. Knew she should step away, stop this from going any further. Particularly given her decision at the hospital to concentrate solely on Peter. Besides, it didn’t make sense. They were too different, despite everything they’d shared. He loved it here. She…didn’t hate it anymore, but not hating it was far from wanting to stay. Nothing could ever come of what was between them.

  But did it have to? They wanted each other. Here. Now. After the last forty-eight hours she’d spent thinking her brother was dead, after the emotional fugue she’d suffered the night before, surely she deserved something that would make her feel good, even if only fleetingly?

  Besides, getting this need for each other out of their systems with a night of passion would be a good thing. It would allow her to concentrate fully on finding her brother and the murderers and then she could leave.

  It made sense to allow this to happen tonight.

  She didn’t say anything, simply took his hand in answer to his question and led him upstairs to her room.

  She inserted the key in the lock and turned, fingers as steady as when she held a scalpel even though her entire being was trembling with anticipation. Hartley stood close behind her, not touching, but his heat enveloped her, stroking her back, his breath heavy and hot against the nape of her neck. She opened the door, took a few steps inside, placed her backpack on the chair near the door. The door closed behind them, but before she could turn, Hartley had her up against the door, his body pressed against hers, his fingers scraping into her hair, his lips a hairs breadth from hers.

  ‘Are you sure?’ he breathed, breath a caress across aching lips.

  ‘Yes.’ She scraped her fingers into his hair and pulled his head down that final centimetre.

  Lips meshed in a hot hard clash of teeth and tongue. Bodies pressed. Hands found purchase in muscle, on skin, fingers stroking, clenching, holding, as if to say ‘mine’.

  And he was hers in that moment. Just like she was his.

  Before fear had time to catch her, his hand was on her breast, his lips tracing, hot and wet, down her throat. Sensations flooded through her, muddying her thoughts. Her head flopped back against the door, giving him access to trace nibbling kisses back up the column of her neck, sending flames of need licking all over her.

  ‘Hartley,’ she gasped, pushing into his hand, the aching nub of her nipple scraping the inside of her bra.

  With a groan, he lifted her up. Her legs twined around his middle, her core pressed to the hard push of the erection straining his jeans. She writhed against him. Why weren’t they already naked? Why wasn’t he buried deep inside her, working away this sudden, horrible need? A need that had been building ever since he’d walked into the interview room—could it only have been two days ago? It seemed an eternity. Of waiting. Of frustration building. Of this need itching under her skin, bursting to get out. And now, now, finally, it was happening.

  She was going to have sex with Hartley and hell! It was already more glorious than she could bear. More frightening. She had no control. No control.

  She didn’t care.

  She tore her lips from his, breath a harsh slash in her throat. ‘Bed. Now.’

  They tore at clothes as they stumbled back toward the bed, fingers fumbling, lips kissing and laughing and nipping and licking. Then they were naked and he was staring at her and she was staring at him.

  Beautiful. Just beautiful. Long and lean with just the right amount of muscle. Wide shoulders tapering into narrow hips with that sexy dip near the hip bone just above dark curls and the erection straining toward her. She reached for it, enjoying the hot silk of it, the jerk of his muscles, the hiss of breath in her ear. His hand came over hers, stilling the movement. She looked up. ‘Later. I’ve got other things planned for now.’ The smile in his eyes was too delicious and she reached up and drank it from his lips.

  They fell back onto the bed, hands finding each other, his hard chest brushing over her peaked nipples. She gasped into his mouth as sensation shot through her, nerves on fire in a way she’d never felt before. She wasn’t a virgin by any means. She’d been sexually active since the age of twenty and had a healthy sexual appetite. But nothing had ever been like this. This was wild. She had no control over him, over her. It was just happening, frighteningly, gloriously, with no constraints, with barely any thought.

  She held tighter, bit down on his shoulder, the instinct to run, to pull away, burned in the fire of longing and need. He groaned and ran a hot trail of lips and tongue and teeth down her neck, to her breast. He took her aching nipple into his mouth. She arched up off the bed, the light behind her eyes flaring and turning to black as he sucked, his tongue flicking over the sensitised peak. Her hands streaked over his back, her legs wrapped around him tighter, pulling him in. He resisted, lifted his head to gasp, ‘Condom.’

  ‘I’m on the pill.’

  ‘Thank god.’ He bent to kiss her again, but just as she sank into his kiss, he flipped them, letting her be on top, gifting her control.

  She laughed. The rumble through his chest as he joined her laughter, vibrated through her thighs and into her core. She gasped, knowing he couldn’t help but feel how ready she was. She leaned down and took his lips with hers again, her fingers pushing into his hair. His arms came around her, but before he could pull her down to him, she sat back, took his hands in hers and placed them over her breasts. Something flared in his eyes as she raised herself over him. ‘Now.’

  ‘Now.’

  She sank down on him in one glorious slide. Her eyes rolled back into her head at the feeling of fullness. Of rightness. She opened her eyes, her gaze finding the vibrant green of his in the semi-dark room and she rode him, a slow, long slide to start, but speeding up, their breaths co
ming faster and faster as the sensation inside her tightened, tightened. His hips met hers in a rhythm that seemed designed to touch her in all the right places. She wanted to kiss him, but she couldn’t tear her gaze from his. She was captured. Beyond control. Beyond thought. Just feeling and an intense pulling need inside her that was telling her she belonged.

  They moved, skin damp with sweat, breath a panting moan, eyes locked, hands grasped together over her breasts. The muscles at her core were pulling tighter, tighter, rising up and up, the tension of it almost pain. She could see the same reflected in his eyes. They moved harder, faster, oblivious to anything else but the need driving them up and up and on and on. The orgasm took her, vicious, pulsing, all encompassing. She lifted, lifted, then was released to fall, lights sparking around her, breath a harsh rasp in her chest, heartbeat thundering in her head.

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard Hartley cry out her name, spasm against her as his seed pumped into her, and then she was unaware of anything else for quite some time.

  When she finally surfaced, she was wrapped in Hartley’s arms, her cheek against his chest. His breaths were even and steady. Had she fallen asleep? It was fully dark now, only the faint glimmer of a streetlight shining through the window. They’d forgotten to shut the curtain in their need for each other. It was night. Huh. She must have fallen asleep.

  ‘Are you still with me?’

  She lifted her head, gaze finding his even in the dark. ‘Yes.’

  He smiled and kissed her.

  Passion ignited again immediately, as if she’d not just had the most astonishing orgasm of her life. Without thought, she gave herself up to it again, to him, his name caught in her heartbeat, in the thrum through her nerves, in the twist of pained delight that was the orgasm he brought to her a second time as he used fingers and tongue and finally his hot, hard length buried deep inside her.

  After, as she lay twined in his arms, breasts pressed into his side, his leg thrown possessively over her hips, she listened as he fell softly into sleep. She was happy. Happier than she’d ever been. Happier than she had a right to be with everything else going on.