A Place to Stay

by Jennie Jones

  ‘Sarge.’

  Luke looked up and frowned when he saw the face Jimmy was pulling as he stood in the doorway. ‘What’s got you so amused?’

  Jimmy yanked his mouth sideways, trying to keep his smirk in line but not managing. ‘It’s her,’ he said in a whisper, jerking his head towards the front office. ‘She’s here.’

  ‘Rachel?’

  Jimmy let his grin loose. ‘Looks like it’s your lucky night.’

  Luke followed him into the front office and stalled, but not before his eyes had automatically swept down her body. He’d never seen her looking so casual. Her hair was free of its clip and fell in waves around her cheeks, and if he’d known she had all that long-limbed tanned wonder beneath her work skirts, he’d have been having sleepless nights long before this. Those shorts were brief enough to draw a man’s eye. But he kept his off them.

  ‘I’m surprised to see you. What are you doing back in town?’ he asked. ‘I mean—you don’t usually come in after work.’

  ‘I went to the Tidy Town planning meeting.’

  ‘Oh, shit.’ He checked his watch. ‘I forgot all about it. How did it go?’

  ‘There was a fair amount of arguing. I’m not really sure if anything was voted on or not.’

  ‘That’s typical. This is only the start. You look lovely,’ he added. Which was an understatement. She looked sweep-a-cop-off-his-feet lovely.

  She blushed, then glanced at Jimmy, who was busy keeping his eyes on a pile of buff-coloured folders on the counter.

  ‘I’ve probably disturbed you,’ she said. ‘I’d better be going.’

  ‘No—wait.’

  ‘He’s off shift,’ Jimmy said. ‘Take him up on his offer of dinner, would you? If he leaves the station, it means I can leave too.’

  Luke indicated she step into his office with him. He’d spent the last minute torn between astonishment that she’d made the first move—and so quickly—and wondering how many pairs of short shorts she owned. But if he was going to handle things the best way for Rachel, himself and the situation, he had to go back to behaving normally.

  ‘So how about it?’ he asked when they were in his office. ‘Do you fancy a date with me over a burger?’

  ‘I don’t date.’

  ‘Never?’ he asked, disbelief lifting his brow.

  ‘Not at the moment.’

  ‘Any reason?’

  ‘I just—just came in to apologise in person. Since I’m in town anyway.’

  ‘How about a non-date get-together instead? So we can have the little chat you mentioned. So long as you realise my end of the chat is going to be all pick-up line.’ He grinned.

  The unsure expression slid from her features, replaced with worry.

  ‘Do you want to tell me about what’s bothering you?’ he asked, lowering his voice to a murmur. ‘Is that what this visit is about?’

  She looked around the office. At the paperwork, and at the mugshots and notifications on the walls. ‘I want to tell you why I got scared when that man in the street took hold of me,’ she said, not looking at him. ‘The family troubles I mentioned.’ She drew a breath and gave a half-laugh. ‘I should have explained earlier. But I like to be private.’

  ‘Nothing wrong with wanting privacy.’

  ‘No, I know, but I should have told you about—this problem.’

  ‘So tell me. I’m listening.’

  ‘It happened a while back,’ she said, ‘and it’s one of those things I find difficult to shake off.’ She lifted her eyes to his. ‘One of my family members was like that guy in the street. He was rough, quick to anger—you know the type.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said softly, the picture in his head not of some angry family member but of the bastard she’d married. The man who got his kicks slapping a nineteen-year-old around.

  ‘He lashed out once, and I left home.’

  ‘Who was he?’

  ‘My older brother. So these days, I like to keep myself to myself.’

  ‘I don’t blame you. Does he know where you are?’

  ‘No … I doubt it.’

  ‘Where does he live?’

  ‘Over east. I lost contact years ago.’

  ‘So you haven’t seen him in the last few months?’

  She had trouble swallowing before she spoke and Luke knew he’d hit the jackpot. It wasn’t her older brother, it was Fletcher and she was lying.

  ‘I just told you—I lost contact years ago.’

  He pressed on. ‘And whatever he did, it was violent?’

  ‘Nothing more than a push and a hard slap.’

  ‘Enough to make you leave, though.’

  ‘Depends how much you can put up with, I suppose.’ Her voice took on a slightly harder edge.

  He knew how much she’d put up with. ‘Didn’t you tell someone?’ Surely she’d had help from a friend in that first year of marriage? He couldn’t bear to think of her dealing with all that on her own.

  ‘Nobody knew what was happening.’ She said it so quietly, and with such clarity, that Luke believed her. ‘I didn’t tell anyone,’ she said in a whisper. She shrugged, as though pulling herself together. ‘I’d best be going. I just wanted you to know, since Donald Wiseman might cause some trouble for me. I didn’t expect him to start telling people.’

  ‘Don’t worry about Wiseman. I’ll have a word with him.’

  ‘There’s no need.’

  Luke believed there was every need. Wiseman knew something—why else would he be on Rachel’s back? She’d done nothing to hurt anyone in town.

  ‘I’m going to speak to him myself,’ she said. ‘On Monday. Now I’d better get home.’

  ‘I’ll walk you to your car. Just give me a sec.’ He collected his gear. ‘Jimmy—time to shut up shop. Switch the phones through to the station mobile, would you?’ He smiled at Rachel. ‘Lock-up time. Won’t take a moment.’ If Jimmy was ever on his own in the station, he was locked in. He could get out, of course—but it was too dangerous not to have a couple of officers in here with him when the doors were unlocked. Actually, Luke shouldn’t be there on his own either, but he wasn’t currently working by the book, thanks to Jack.

  Station locked, Jimmy on his way to Breakers, Luke clipped his keys to his duty belt and headed south to the carpark, Rachel by his side.

  ‘You do look lovely, by the way,’ he told her. ‘In fact, you took my breath away when I stepped into the front office and saw you.’

  ‘The first of your pick-up lines?’ she asked.

  ‘Never told a woman she’s taken my breath away before. Except my grandmother—but she was taking a broom to me at the time because I’d been racing her pigs and three got loose and ran off. I was ten.’

  ‘Did you find them?’

  ‘Took me four hours, but I found them. She’d have skinned my backside otherwise.’

  He was rewarded with a brief look and the flash of a smile, and regardless of whether he should or shouldn’t be, he was ready to receive and decipher any indications of reciprocal attraction she threw him.

  He cleared his throat and pulled himself together when he became aware he might be swaggering. ‘So what were the Agatha Girls demanding of you?’

  ‘They’re testing my willingness to participate in the town’s volunteering groups. They also wanted to warn me off you.’

  He stopped. ‘They what?’

  She paused too and looked over her shoulder. ‘Not Mary. I’m not sure that it was Mrs Frith, either, but Amelia Arnold wanted to suss me out.’

  ‘What did she say to you?’

  ‘She told me how much you were respected. But the real reason for their visit was because of Donald Wiseman talking about me and they wanted clarification.’

  ‘Why do you think Wiseman is so interested in you?’

  ‘I have no idea. He’s never liked me.’

  ‘I’m sorry about that.’

  ‘Why should you be?’

  ‘Because Wiseman’s a pain in everybody’s backside. Because eve
ryone else likes you. Because I like you,’ he added. He still liked her. Very much.

  At the end of High Street, they waited for traffic to clear, then crossed to the carpark.

  ‘Here, let me do something for you, would you?’ He held out his hand for her keys, which she’d taken out of her cavernous, near-empty shoulder bag.

  She hesitated, then passed them over.

  ‘Have you always been an admin officer?’ he asked as he unlocked the old 4WD. It was roadworthy, but at around nineteen years old, it had few modern comforts.

  ‘Mostly,’ she answered.

  The heat from the interior wafted out and hit him in the face when he opened the door. ‘Wait,’ he said, putting an arm out to halt her. It was evening, but the car had been locked up in the heat all day. ‘Does the aircon work?’

  She shook her head. ‘I didn’t have time to get it re-gassed before I came out here.’

  ‘There’s an auto-electrician comes out once a month. I’ll let him know what you need. You shouldn’t be driving without aircon.’

  ‘I don’t go very far.’

  He unwound the driver’s side window, then held the door wide for her.

  ‘Thank you.’ She took the keys off him and got in, then stretched across to the other side of the car and wound down the passenger door window.

  Luke took a breath. He liked watching her move, but this was a bonus and one he’d unwillingly dream about for a fortnight—or the next time he got some sleep. He followed the shape of her arms, the way the thin cotton sleeveless top exposed her waist, and continued down the line of her bare, tanned legs.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t fancy a burger?’ he asked when she straightened.

  Her smile was nothing more than a tilt, but it was followed almost immediately with a brightening of her eyes. He held her gaze. Was this it? Had he broken her reserve?

  ‘We’ve got something here, Rachel,’ he said softly. ‘We like looking at each other. You can’t deny it.’ And neither could he.

  She didn’t speak, nor did she look away, but an awareness of mutual attraction fluttered over her features.

  ‘If your offer is still open,’ she said, ‘I accept. Sunday’s barbecue at the pistol club.’

  His heart compressed. It would have been such a different scenario if he hadn’t been put in the position of making sure he got close to her.

  ‘If you want to,’ she said in a rush. ‘I just thought it might be nice after all … but you don’t have to.’

  ‘Yes.’ He cleared his throat because his voice sounded strangled. ‘Yes,’ he said again, more firmly. ‘Definitely,’ he reinforced, smiling tightly. ‘You’ve made my night.’

  ‘It’s not a date,’ she said. ‘I mean …’

  ‘There’s no need to explain. It’s happening at four o’clock. I’ll pick you up—I’ve got a day off, remember?’

  ‘I’ll make my own way there.’

  ‘It’s not on the map. And it’s not signposted. We have to go four-wheel drive to get there.’

  ‘I’ll meet you at the station then, and follow you there. It’s not a date,’ she said again.

  ‘I get it,’ he told her. ‘You want to learn how to shoot. Although you never know—I might persuade you to have that beer with me after the barbecue after all.’

  ‘You are persistent, aren’t you?’

  There was a smile in her voice if not on her mouth. ‘Looks that way.’

  All night he was going to sit outside her house, guarding and watching, and thinking about her wrapped up in a sheet in her bed, limbs softened in sleep. About what she might be dreaming of, about what she’d done wrong or what had been done wrong to her. And about how much he wanted her.

  ‘We’re not dating,’ she said, her voice hushed and her eyes clouded with uncertainty. ‘We can’t do that.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Just not a good idea.’ She turned away and fired the engine. ‘And it has nothing to do with Mrs Arnold warning me off you.’

  He closed the door, still watching her intently. ‘Don’t worry about Mrs Arnold, or anybody else. Just concentrate on what you want.’

  She looked at him with a slightly puzzled frown.

  ‘And what you need,’ he continued. ‘I’m a cop, remember? You can talk to me. About anything.’

  Her lips parted, and the vulnerability he’d seen before entered her eyes. But he sensed she needed support before she opened up and told him her lies—or maybe she wanted to tell him the truth.

  ‘I don’t know where this is going, or where we’re heading,’ he said. ‘But I’m happy to take things slowly, and I think that’s what you’d prefer.’

  After a beat, she nodded. ‘By the way,’ she said, a shaky smile on her mouth. ‘I’m not sure how much driving Mrs Frith does, but you might want to keep an eye on her. I think she’d had a few drinks tonight.’

  Luke sighed. ‘We pulled her over a couple of times and discovered she wanted to get arrested. Told us it was research for the next Agatha Christie play. So I gave her a tour of the cells, slapped her in handcuffs for five minutes, then handed her another fine. Two more demerit points and she’ll lose her licence. She hardly ever drives now. Did Amelia drive back?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘All right. I’ll make sure we have another little chat with Freda.’

  ‘It might be best.’

  ‘I’ll see you Sunday,’ he said. ‘Three o’clock. At the station.’

  She pulled away and he stood there until her vehicle was out of sight. He’d been reflecting on and off all afternoon about the women he’d had serious relationships with. He’d had a couple of lengthy ones, had even moved in: one from college days, and another after he’d left the academy, buoyed up and full of fire. But he’d been young. It hadn’t been love. Young love, perhaps, which equated to lust and being with someone: going shopping and sharing bills; spending weekends with sports games and drinks at the pub with other couples their age. Like training for the real thing. Whatever the real thing was.

  His mobile beeped. Jack.

  That sergeant is on leave. Trying to locate him but he’s on a trek around Bali. Might take a bit of time. His colleagues confirm he went out with a woman called Rebecca for a short time. Sounds like the relationship wasn’t a big deal.

  Damn it. So there was a connection between Rachel/Rebecca and the sergeant who’d been wounded in his own home.

  He pocketed the phone and stared at the road Rachel had driven down. Was he going through the real deal? It wasn’t only the look of her or the sound of her voice that captured his attention, and it was more than animal attraction—God help him. A wave of warmth came over him when he passed her or they stood close. And he knew her moods—although not the reason for them—but he sensed things about her, the smallest change, whether it was a blush or a moment of nervousness.

  Did he want to fall in love? Maybe. But not with Rachel—not if she was doing or had done something illegal. He wanted to help her out of the trouble she was in, but this falling in love gig—that was big.

  Christ, his heart was going to get busted for sure.

  Eleven

  Rachel hefted two large paper carrier bags into the back of her car, repacking one as trowels, irrigation nozzles and sprinkler heads fell out. She’d visited the tiny ag and garden store because she needed an excuse to be seen in town again this morning, to gauge her feelings about staying in one place. To gauge what people’s reactions towards her might be if they found out about her past. To gauge what Luke might or might not know—and to cautiously gather the courage to tell him.

  Remorse had kept her awake most of the night. Remorse, and a longing for Luke she hadn’t believed she’d ever feel for any man. She’d gone to bed thinking about him and had woken up every hour still thinking about him, her arms wrapped around herself. She’d never unravelled any man, and had doubted any charms she might still possess would expose a nerve in the senior sergeant, but when they’d shared that electric, engaging l
ook at each other yesterday evening, she’d felt sure she had.

  She slammed the rear door of the 4WD and gripped her car keys. She’d taken her time as she wandered along the main street and she’d spent ages in the garden store at the far end of town. But she didn’t want to drive home yet. It was Saturday morning and High Street was heaving with nearly half of the town’s residents. She noticed that already people were looking at her differently. Not only because she’d been seen so often in the last couple of days, but also because of the way she was dressing: casual and summery. It was a startling turnaround for the defensive new woman in town.

  She pocketed her keys, and made her way back to High Street, recognising her frustration for what it was: she wanted to see Luke. Better to do it sooner than wait and torture herself with supposition about what he might already know and what he really felt about her. He’d taken a piece of her heart, and she doubted she’d cope with the onslaught of constantly wondering over the next years how it could have been if she’d been a different person with a different history.

  She pushed through the Brown Café door, inhaling the tang of coffee beans, toasted sandwiches and milkshakes. ‘Hi,’ she said to one of the two new faces behind the counter. ‘I’m Rachel.’

  ‘Hi, I’m Angela. What can I get you?’

  ‘I was looking for Jax.’

  The other young woman was busy slicing through a toasted sandwich, the makings of another on a big wooden board in front of her. Jax had found staff. That would give her time off.

  ‘She’s out the back,’ Angela said, filling a blender with milk then grabbing a bottle of chocolate flavouring off a shelf.

  ‘Okay. Thanks.’ Rachel paused before turning for the door. ‘I’ve seen you around town before—you’re Mrs Arnold’s granddaughter, aren’t you?’ Angela’s parents ran a station two hundred kilometres away and the young woman had moved in with her grandmother to be closer to town and ‘all the action’, as Mary had put it.

  ‘Yeah, that’s me.’ The girl beamed. ‘I’m loving working here. Jax is the best boss ever and I get free meals. I’m saving up to get myself to Perth.’

  Rachel smiled. ‘Good luck.’ Another young person working hard in order to leave town. Since there was nothing Rachel could do about that, she went outside, turned right and headed down the side street between the café and the newsagents. Outside the kitchen door there was brick paving, with a washing line and a locked shed, and just beyond that a fenced area filled with large animal cages and pens, and lots of natural vegetation. Huge gum trees gave shade and gravelled pathways led to the pens and another shed that looked like it had been turned into a serviceable warehouse. Through its open doors, Rachel could see a sink and lots of boxes and feed sacks stacked on metal shelving.