A Place to Stay

by Jennie Jones

  A Place to Stay

  Jennie Jones

  www.escapepublishing.com.au

  About the Author

  Jennie Jones loved everything with a romantic element from an early age. That’s why she became an actor before she started writing, touring the UK’s grand old theatres, becoming someone else for two hours, eight performances a week, and loving every second.

  Now living in Australia, she’s a would-be country girl and longs for the day when she can set up home in a cute country cottage in the middle of a huge field. Until then, Jennie is enjoying life a five-minute walk from the beach. She can hear the ocean as she types her stories.

  Jennie is a bestselling author of feel-good fiction with romance and a touch of humour at heart. Her books include the Swallow’s Fall series set in the Australian Snowy Mountains and the A Dollar for a Dream series set in country New South Wales. A Place to Stay is the first book in Jennie’s Rangelands series, set in outback Western Australia.

  Also by Jennie Jones

  The House on Burra Burra Lane

  The House at the Bottom of the Hill

  The House at the End of the Street

  Last Chance Country

  For Brenda Longman, my friend, ally and theatre pal. Still a best friend after all these years.

  Thank you for all the creative times, and more.

  Contents

  About the Author

  Also by Jennie Jones

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Acknowledgements

  One

  Rachel Meade pulled the comb from the back of her head, threw it into the bag on the passenger seat and ran a finger under the collar of her blouse. She undid the top three buttons and attempted to let the caution that shadowed her life slip away. Hot air rushed through the open windows of her old 4WD, whipping her hair across the frames of her sunglasses as Bono singing I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For came full blast from the radio.

  It was good to see the end of this day but the trouble she’d been involved in forty minutes ago had shifted from a concern to a worry that wouldn’t budge. Would there be charges? Would they ask her to give a statement against those men? She didn’t want her name on anything official.

  She fidgeted on the seat, suddenly desperate to discard the formal white blouse and black skirt she wore to work every day at the town hall in Mt Maria on the Western Australian edge of the Great Victoria Desert.

  She didn’t know how this little town had survived the century since its beginning in the gold rush days, but she was grateful it existed. She felt a tug of appreciation for Mt Maria and its people. Well, some of them. Not the mine site workers who had swarmed into town a fortnight ago, causing trouble that started long before closing time at the hotel.

  She stared at the road ahead—straight, wide, and empty—calming herself with the vista. The landscape was theatrical in its majestic, golden barrenness: vast blue sky creased the faraway horizon, with rich red earth, mulga woodlands and spinifex grass below. Ten more minutes and she’d be at the Laurensen place—the rental house she’d begun to think of as her own after years of moving away, moving on, moving anywhere. Mt Maria offered a truly outback lifestyle, the brochure had told her. And it was out the back of beyond. Which is why she’d moved here.

  She hadn’t been looking for anything except normality and a sense of safety. If she was lucky, she’d found both. If she stayed in this rangeland district long enough, the Laurensen place might even become known as the Meade place.

  It sounded good, but she didn’t want to give the idea too much consideration, regardless of already having savoured the notion a few times too many.

  Five fifteen and it was still as sweltering as it had been earlier that morning when she’d driven to work. At a hundred kilometres an hour, the air coursing through the car was like a blast from a heater on full power. The aircon hadn’t worked from the day she’d bought the vehicle, and there was nowhere to get it re-gassed out here, so she put up with it and enjoyed the exhilaration of air rushing over her.

  Flashing lights reflected in the rear-view mirror.

  She tensed. What now?

  She brought the car to a stop, turned the radio off, pulled the sunglasses from her face and fastened two of the buttons on her blouse, reluctantly bringing back the cover she’d only just let loose.

  The police car drew up behind. The lights flickered a jagged line across the breadth of the burnt-red road for a few seconds, then stopped. She checked the side mirror and held her breath as she recognised the officer getting out of the marked wagon, adjusting his cap and taking his time as he moved towards her car. Did they teach them how to walk like that? A contained stride, without haste but full of objective.

  She’d seen too many cops in very different circumstances but this one put her on edge in a way she wasn’t accustomed to.

  He came alongside the driver’s door, his shadow falling on her car and shielding her from the glow of the early evening sunshine. She moistened her lips and ignored the warmth building inside her that had nothing to do with the weather. Against all her better instincts, she was riveted.

  He put his hands on the heavy equipment belt sitting on his waist. ‘Sorry about the lights. Didn’t mean to frighten you but I needed you to stop.’

  ‘I thought I must have been speeding,’ she said with a hint of a laugh, but it came out nervously.

  He knocked the brim of his cap back with a finger, strands of short, dark brown hair visible above his ears and at the back of his neck. ‘Actually, I did clock you doing seven over the limit.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  The tanned skin at the corner of his mouth creased with a smile. ‘I’ll overlook it this time.’

  Well over six foot, built like a football player, he wore the blue of that intimidating uniform as though he’d been born in it, displaying authority with a laid-back demeanour and managing to make her feel as shy as the nineteen-year-old she’d once been. Too long ago. Too many broken dreams ago.

  ‘So what have I done wrong?’ It pained her to ask, but she had to appear normal because she had no intention of telling him or any police officer what had happened to her three months ago.

  ‘You haven’t done anything wrong, Rachel.’ He tipped his head, a familiar gleam appearing in his eyes. ‘Hi, by the way. How are you?’

  She allowed him a smile, although truthfully it came almost naturally, which was another worry. She hadn’t seen him around town the last couple of days. She’d wondered where he was but hadn’t asked anyone.

  ‘I heard what happened outside the hotel,’ he said.

  She remained still but her nerve endings roared to life.

  ‘Just wanted to check you were okay.’

  ‘Your constables helped. And it wasn’t just me, there were two other women being pestered.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘So do you want to ask me a question or something?’ she asked, amazed at how well she was keeping it together.

  Immediately, she realised she’d given him an opening. One she didn’t want him to take.

  ‘Well I have asked you out twice now,’ he said, a gentle glow in his eye. ‘But I didn’t follow you out here, flashing the lights, to ask you t
o have dinner with me.’ He paused, maybe giving her a chance to speak, but she kept quiet. ‘I saw you drive out of town in a rush. I got a bit worried about you.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘You don’t have to apologise. Like I said, you did nothing wrong.’

  Oh, God, but she had.

  ‘Will you come into the station tomorrow?’ he asked. ‘Tell me what happened?’

  She’d left the scene as soon as the young constable had turned up and as soon as she’d known the other two women were okay. ‘There’s not much I can tell you,’ she said. ‘I was only on the periphery of it. The men were drunk. Noisy—you know—making a nuisance of themselves.’

  ‘Yes, they were,’ he acknowledged, ‘And they frightened you.’

  He’d never know how much.

  ‘Thank you, Senior Sergeant Weston, but I’m fine.’

  ‘You can call me Luke. And I don’t make that offer to everyone around town. Only the chosen few.’

  ‘I’d prefer to keep it official.’ Her eyes were drawn to his uniform. He’d been a detective until a couple of years ago. She hadn’t asked why an ex-detective would be in charge of small outback town. She never asked questions, and hated answering them. The last thing she wanted was to add more trouble to her life.

  She swallowed the sudden ache in her throat—a thick, choking longing so intense it puckered her heart. She breathed deeply and banished loneliness to some other place. She had solitude. Being lonely was something she’d have to put up with.

  ‘Rachel,’ he said, putting his hands either side of her car door as he leaned in to her, ‘what’s wrong?’

  She shook her head, but couldn’t look at him. She’d thought the memories of her past were fading like the scars, but this last fortnight while she was lying her head off at the nice people around her, they’d returned. Worry about her past didn’t come only in her nightmares. It happened in the daytime too and the memories had returned earlier when those men at the hotel had surrounded her and two other women, drunkenly laughing and joking. Not vicious but behaving with thick-headed stupidity. They’d frightened the life out of her.

  ‘Hey,’ he said softly, breaking into her dark thoughts. ‘Rachel Meade. Hello. You still with me?’

  A flash of guilt shot through her, but she managed to look up and to keep her focus on him. Rachel Meade was her fourth identity—if she counted her real one. He didn’t know that.

  ‘Sorry, what were you saying?’

  He crouched so his face was at her window. ‘I was saying I don’t want you worried about these guys. They’re passing through. We’ve got our eye on them at all times. Understand?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Are you worried one of them might follow you out here?’

  She almost laughed. ‘No.’ She was only worried about one guy—and he was hopefully all memory.

  ‘You ought to consider moving into town, you know. It’s pretty lonely out at the Laurensen place.’

  ‘I like it out there.’ And she needed to be alone in order to grow out of the worry and maybe take a gamble on her future.

  ‘Feeling better now?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. And any time you’re concerned—about anything—call it in, would you? I’d prefer to know you’ll do that, otherwise I’m going to keep worrying about you.’

  She looked at him and smiled. Beneath his professionalism, he was showing her his protective side. He liked her, truly liked her. But she couldn’t trust him.

  ‘I will,’ she told him, still smiling when she ought to be wiping it from her face. If only life had been different. If only she’d met someone like Luke Weston a long time ago. Before she’d been married. ‘But I’m fine. Honestly. I won’t need your protection.’

  ‘You’ve got it anyway.’ He put his work-toughened hands on the rim of her window and stood. ‘All part of the service.’

  His smile was sultry now, and the glow in his eyes too engaging. He opened up envelopes she’d prefer to keep sealed. So why was she still smiling at him?

  * * *

  Senior Sergeant Luke Weston returned her smile and was damn sure there was no way his big mouth looked as inviting as hers. He’d been in town two years; she’d been in town four weeks and he hadn’t made a dent, although he’d only tried twice and done it carefully too, after recognising her shyness—or reticence. She was always prudent with her smiles but the sweet one she was giving him now blew pleasure around his chest. He’d liked her from the moment he saw her, and no matter how hard he tried to keep his attraction in check, his heart got all tender when he looked at her. But his worry when he’d seen her drive off a little too fast earlier had been genuine police concern. There’d been an overload of mine workers these last couple of weeks due to a massive redundancy at one of the gold mines. Most were okay, just spending their money before heading to wherever home was, but a few were causing trouble. His officers had sorted out the disturbance quickly, but Rachel had already skipped.

  ‘Are the other two women all right?’ she asked.

  ‘They’re fine,’ he said, fascinated by the light bouncing on her shoulder-length nut-brown hair, freed from the tortoiseshell clasp she kept it in. ‘They’re giving a statement.’

  ‘Like I said, I wasn’t really part of it.’ She reddened and looked away, and Luke paused. It wasn’t a blush; it was some sort of confusion burying itself inside her.

  He ran his eyes over the cab of her vehicle. Her bag sat on the passenger seat, open and practically empty. He was used to seeing women with bulging handbags that contained their lives and sometimes the lives of others. Rachel Meade didn’t tote anything that wasn’t essential. Although he guessed that the shiny, nude lip gloss she wore must be melting inside an inner pocket. He saw the prepaid mobile in the bag. He’d insisted she have it after she’d told him hers had just broken and she didn’t feel the need to spend money on a new one. The Laurensen place was fairly remote.

  She’d told those who wanted to know that she was working while travelling and intended to stay in town at least a year. Nobody thought there was anything untoward about this; people frequently changed lanes, trying to get out of the rat race, or carving a new lifestyle for themselves.

  ‘So,’ he said, keeping it cool. ‘I know you had a fright. Don’t try to tell me you didn’t.’ Word had spread fast about the new lady’s arrival and that she was worth taking a look at. Two or three long looks. ‘Will you promise to call in if you get worried about something?

  She ran an eye over his shirt and the duty belt on his waist. ‘I told you—there’s no need. I’m not worried.’

  Maybe she found the uniform too official or something. She’d never asked him why he was here, in charge of a small outback town, but then again, she was as careful with her words as she was with her smiles. He was here because he’d been detective senior sergeant long enough. Hanging out in the back of vans scoping criminals for a twelve-hour stint had lost its appeal, and he’d decided to go for Detective Inspector. That promotion required experience running a police station, so here he was. Most people in town didn’t know how these things worked, and he was fairly sure there were more than a few rumours about why he was back in blue. Luke didn’t respond to rumours with anything more than a smile.

  ‘I’ve been away a couple of days,’ he said, knowing he was prolonging the conversation now.

  ‘Oh? I hadn’t noticed.’

  Well, that was a shame.

  She blushed and angled her head away. Probably so he didn’t see the blush, but he’d seen it so many times he’d fallen for that too.

  Normally, he didn’t get too far from town—or his desk—but a woman from the Kerry family 250 kilometres north had near enough killed one of the Donaldson brothers on the closest station around fifty kilometres away over a secret affair—not so secret any more—and all hell had broken loose.

  ‘But now I’m back.’

  ‘So I see.’

  Okay, he was prolonging t
he conversation. He’d like to ask her out to dinner again but this wasn’t the time, and anyway, he’d get another negative. Maybe he ought to do something romantic for her, but he had the feeling a woman who lived on her own, nine hundred and fifty kilometres from the capital and four hundred from the nearest city, wasn’t the sort to expect roses and love letters.

  ‘Can I go now?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course.’ He stepped back from the vehicle. ‘No speeding,’ he added, with a smile.

  She looked up at him, her dark green eyes soft, and his heart took a battering all over again.

  ‘Goodnight,’ she said, and put her 4WD into gear.

  He stepped further from the vehicle, hands on his belt and mouth pulled to one side as he watched her drive off. Shy—or reticent—she was smart but judicious with her attributes, keeping herself in check unless forced to come out of her shell. She looked the kind of woman who’d been alone for a long time. Divorced? Separated? Had her heart broken? Maybe that’s why she’d come out here—to get away from it all. And maybe he ought to take a step back and think about that.

  ‘Mt Maria base to—sarge!’

  Luke depressed the button on the radio mic he kept clipped to his shoulder. ‘Go ahead Mt Maria base. What’s your problem, Davidson?’ he asked the new probationary constable as he returned to the troop wagon and got in.

  ‘There’s a guy in the middle of High Street. He’s drunk and he’s waving an axe handle—he won’t listen to anyone, but I could probably get close enough to Taser him.’

  ‘Keep it holstered, mate, or I’ll be slapping five kinds of forms on your desk.’ Luke fired the engine and pulled out into a U-turn. Davidson wasn’t only new, he was super keen. A little too much for Luke’s liking, but he wasn’t the first rookie he’d worked with. ‘It’s Hugh Baxter,’ Luke said. ‘He does this once in a while. Who’s with you? Where’s Donna?’ Senior Constable Donna Murray had been at the station when he’d left fifteen minutes ago.

  ‘Sergeant Kate’s with me,’ Davidson said. ‘Donna’s gone out with Sergeant Bennett. Someone reported a dozen chickens on the highway.’