Walking the Line

by Mandy Magro

  Reading down the list, one answer really jumped out at her. She read it out to herself, her voice quivering. ‘Use of the wrong hydraulic fluid, a simple slip up.’

  With her heart now trying to bash its way out of her rib cage, Charlize covered her gaping mouth with her hand. She glanced back towards the closed front door, and then to the curtains, relieved Vivien wasn’t watching her—well not that she could see anyway. Her hunch might be right, but how was she going to prove it? And did she really want to travel down that dark path? Dallas and Katherine had suffered enough.

  She blinked away the tears that were filling her eyes, sucked in a breath and then turned the key in the ignition. While at the Grenfell Record she would kill two birds with one stone, and go through their archives.

  Overwhelmed by the fact that she may have stumbled across something to suggest Mick Armstrong’s death was no accident, Charlize closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths before she pulled out from the curb, long enough for her not to notice the motorbike slow a little as it passed her, then speed off around a bend.

  CHAPTER

  28

  Back in the archives section of the Grenfell Record, Charlize stood in front of the opened newspaper with one hand over her mouth and the other over her racing heart. The copy was dated the day after George Hiller had died. The headline read, DRINK DRIVING DEATH ROCKS THE COMMUNITY. She’d already read the article three times, but she read it again, wanting the information to really sink in.

  Local man, George Hiller, has been found dead in a single vehicle accident after careening off the side of Kennedy Mountain Tuesday evening. The lack of extensive skid marks has led the investigating officer to believe it was driver negligence that has led to the fatal crash. George has left behind his wife, Vivien Hiller and his ten year old son, Warren.

  She looked over to the newer issue of the newspaper, the headline RODEO CHAMPION DIES IN TRAGIC ACCIDENT making her heart squeeze tighter than it had the last time she was here. The alarm bells rang louder. There were too many similarities between George and Mick’s accidents for Charlize’s liking. The fact that Vivien thought her husband was deserving of his death because he was a drinker, and wished death upon Mick because of his sexual preferences, was more than disturbing. It was downright sick and twisted.

  Grabbing her iPhone, she turned to Google again, needing to know more about the contamination of a brake system. After reading through a few articles, she came to the conclusion that it could easily be done, even by an elderly woman like Vivien. The Hiller family ran a transport business after all, so she would have at least a passing familiarity with mechanical systems.

  All it took was for an oil-based fluid, such as power-steering fluid, to be poured into the brake system to quickly cause severe damage once the vehicle was in motion. As soon as the brake pedal was applied, the master cylinder would pump the contaminant into the rest of the system, causing the rubber in the braking system to swell and deteriorate until total system failure.

  With her legs turning to jelly, Charlize rested her back against the wall as she gazed at the photo of her and Dallas from the Rodeo Ball. They both looked so happy, so content in each other’s company, but if what she suspected was true, she was about to wipe that beautiful smile right off Dallas’s handsome face, and that shattered her.

  She had stumbled across something way bigger than she had ever imagined, something that outweighed the shock of Mick’s homosexuality. But before she went running to the police with the information, she needed some concrete evidence first, to tie Vivien to the murders. For that’s what Charlize truly believed both George Hiller’s and Mick Armstrong’s deaths were—murder in the first degree.

  Gathering her things she dashed out of the back office. Passing Harold again she slowed to say goodbye and thank you.

  ‘No worries at all, Charlize.’ He gave her a broad smile. ‘And don’t forget, if ever feel like a change of scenery, the job here is yours.’

  ‘I’ll keep it in mind, Harold, thanks. Catch you later.’ She said as she spun on her heel and headed outside.

  ***

  Storming into the kitchen, Dallas swallowed down his anger when he spotted his mum at the oven, stirring a large pot of what smelt like his favourite dinner—the beef and dumpling stew Charlize had knocked back the first night she’d arrived. He snarled beneath his breath. Her pescetarianism was probably all a façade too.

  He should have known not to trust Charlize Dawson—her little white lie of already having eaten had been a red flag from the get-go. But then she’d wooed him with her infectious charisma, and had him twisted around her little finger in a matter of days. What a gullible fool he’d been, and to think he’d imagined having her for his own. His head pounded and he wished it would just explode and put him out of his misery. But he forced a smile for Katherine, not wanting his mum to notice he was fuming.

  ‘Hey Mum.’

  ‘Hi Dallas, how was your trip to town?’

  ‘Yeah good. It was fairly quiet so I got everything done pretty quickly.’ He walked to the fridge and tugged it open, needing something, anything, to take the dryness out of his mouth. Grabbing the orange juice, he took a slug from the bottle. ‘Dinner smells mighty fine.’

  ‘Oi,’ Katherine said with a playful scowl. ‘You know better than to drink from the bottle.’

  ‘My bad. Sorry, was dying of thirst.’

  ‘Well, you know where the glasses live—so grab yourself one.’ She wiped her hands on her apron. ‘Thanks for saving me the last minute job of dropping Mary’s gift off. I feel terrible that I forgot her birthday last week.’

  ‘No worries. It was good to get a ride in.’ He grabbed a glass, and poured a drink before leaning against the bench, feigning a casualness he wasn’t feeling on the inside. ‘Is Charlize back yet?’ He tried to keep his voice steady.

  ‘Yeah, she got back about twenty minutes ago. Said she was heading down to the shed to take a few photos of your rodeo trainer, and then she’d be back to finish packing up before her lift arrives.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Which is only half an hour away.’ Smiling sadly, she took off her apron and hung it on a hook beside the oven. ‘I’m going to miss having her around. She’s certainly been a breath of fresh air.’ She raised her brows suggestively. ‘And I think that goes for all of us.’

  ‘Yup,’ was all Dallas could say to that before glugging his drink down. He dropped the glass in the sink already filled with hot soapy water, gave it a wash, rinsed it and then tipped it upside down on the draining rack. ‘Right, I better get a move on. Heaps to do and not enough hours of daylight to do it in.’

  ‘Oh, you’re not going to hang around to say goodbye to Charlize?’

  Dallas stopped at the flyscreen door. ‘I’ll call into the shed on the way past.’

  Katherine’s concerned look gave way to a smile. ‘Okay, good thinking.’

  ‘Catch ya later on,’ he called over his shoulder as he hightailed it outside. His mum was switched on, and he didn’t want to give her a chance to work out he was pissed off with little Miss Egocentric.

  Heading out the back, Dallas stomped passed his mum’s car, the glimpse of something on the passenger seat catching his eye. He stopped and opened the door, and voila, there was Charlize’s handbag.

  Not usually being one to snoop in other people’s stuff, Dallas felt conflicted as to whether he should look inside it. He ran his hands through his hair, huffing. He took a step back, tapped the toe of his boot, and then lunged forwards as if capturing a wild mickey bull. He had to do it, had to find out what she’d been doing at Vivien Hiller’s house, and his instincts told him there’d be a clue in her handbag. Quickly unzipping it, he searched the contents, gobsmacked at the amount of stuff a woman could fit in such a small space, when a notepad caught his attention. Yanking it out, his heart skidded to a stop. His jaw clenched and his vision blurred as he read the scribbled words.

  Mick Anderson was having an affair with Warren. Proof in the form o
f photos. Christian mother hell-bent on making her son pay for his sins. Believes Mick Armstrong deserved what he got. Need to investigate further.

  His mind flashed back to that fateful day …

  ‘I love my son, and I love my wife, Vivien. They don’t deserve to be put through this just because you don’t agree with it. Please have a long hard think about the hurt you’d cause if you do this. And what about Warren? Have you thought about his feelings?’

  ‘Don’t you dare put this back on me, Mick Armstrong. You manipulated Warren, and he needs me to step in so he can change his ways. The choice is yours as to whether your precious wife and son find out, or not.’

  ‘It’s not that simple. What Warren and I have is something I can’t just walk away from. I love him, and he loves me.’

  ‘I will make your life a living hell if you keep seeing him, you horrid man.’

  ‘Is that a threat, Vivien?’

  ‘Take it as you will.’ And off she stormed into the blinding sunshine, leaving Mick staring wide-eyed behind her.

  As he remembered the scene, Dallas felt the wind go out of him as though someone had punched him in the chest. An icy spear of pain shot through the place his soul would be. So that was why Charlize had been at Vivien Hiller’s.

  How could she do this? How could she go behind their backs after they’d made her feel a part of the family? And especially after the mind-blowing kiss they’d shared? He’d thought they had something special, something that might eventually turn more serious if given the chance.

  But she’d gone and blown all chance of that happening now. Fucking journalists. They were all the same—greedy for their next big story, no matter the cost. She’d certainly made a complete fool of him. Did she really feel anything for him, as he felt for her, or had she been playing him all along?

  Panic fuelled his fury. How in hell was he going to stop his father’s secret going to print, now that Charlize had her grimy fingers on it? And what would happen to his mum when it did?

  Overcome with emotions, he ripped the page out of the notebook and began tearing the paper into pieces. Then, shoving the torn paper in his pocket, he turned and stormed down the earthen track and towards the shed.

  CHAPTER

  29

  A sudden flash of brilliant sunlight sent Charlize into a panic. She quickly brought her head out from beneath the bonnet of the crumpled Commodore, knocking it as she did, and was met with eyes so full of hatred and menace that she almost cried out. Taking a few steps back while rubbing the lump forming on her head, she tried to smile. ‘Hey you.’ She pointed to the wreck. ‘Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.’

  ‘Is that so.’ Dallas stepped out of the glow of the doorway, taking determined strides towards her. ‘And being the devoted journalist you are, you just couldn’t help yourself when it came to Vivien Hiller either, could you? How much did you pay her?’

  Charlize felt her face drain of colour. She wanted to run, hide, anything but stand here and confess she’d done the unthinkable. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Don’t lie to me, Charlize. I think I deserve a little more than that from you. Wouldn’t you agree?’

  ‘Yes, you do.’ She rocked back and forwards on her heels, feeling the lowest she’d ever felt in her life. ‘The newspaper paid her five thousand dollars.’

  ‘Really? So humour me, what did the bitch tell you?’

  ‘She told me your dad was …’ The word stuck in her throat.

  ‘Gay?’

  ‘Yes.’ She eyed him cautiously. He didn’t seem surprised. ‘You already knew?’

  ‘Yes, and I told her to rack off when she asked me to pay her to keep it quiet. Just like you should have, if you were any sort of decent person.’ He laughed scathingly. ‘And to think I could have told you for free, not that I would have—because it’s none of your goddamn business.’

  Pushing back the overwhelming desire to burst into tears, Charlize slowly tilted her head. ‘But how did you know?’

  ‘Because I overheard her trying to blackmail my father the day he died. It’s her fault my dad and I argued just before he tore out of here like a bull at a gate.’ His Adam apple bobbed in his throat as he shook his head. ‘And it’s my fault he put the power-steering fluid in the brake line just before he drove off.’

  Charlize was very careful with her next question. ‘Being mechanically minded, do you really believe your dad would have make a mistake like that?’

  Dallas shrugged as his hand clenched at his sides. ‘Not usually, but he was so upset I guess he just wasn’t thinking straight.’

  Unable to look into his pain-filled eyes, Charlize turned away from him, her heart splitting in two. She wanted to say what was on her mind, but what if she was wrong? She did have a tendency to overdramatise situations, and she had no hard proof to support her theory. She’d done enough damage already. She wasn’t about to peel the bandage back and make Dallas think things that might not be true.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Dallas. I should have spoken to you first. I didn’t want to hear what she had to say, but my boss made me.’ Her voice was almost a whisper.

  ‘Don’t go putting the blame on someone else, Charlize. Your boss didn’t hold a gun to your head and make you do it. You chose to for your own selfish needs.’

  Ouch.

  ‘True.’ She sounded as meek as a mouse.

  ‘It was your choice to betray people who trusted you.’

  His words were fuelled with venom, and were meant to hurt. And they did. A hell of a lot. The threatening tears came to the surface as she met his questioning gaze. She prayed he’d believe what she was about to say. ‘Trust me when I say I wish I never found out. Vivien asked me to go talk to her when I first got here, and I didn’t. It was only when she contacted my boss that I was put on the spot and had to follow through with it. I don’t want this to go to print any more than you do.’

  ‘What the hell are you on about, Charlize? Don’t you dare compare yourself to me because we’re nothing alike. If you don’t want it going to print, don’t print it. Simple.’ Disappointment and something else flashed across his face. ‘I honestly don’t know what I saw in you.’

  His words stung, burnt her insides, scratched her soul, and tore at her heart. The tears that had welled in her eyes now rolled down her cheeks. Desperation filled her. She didn’t want this beautiful man to hate her. ‘Please, Dallas, you have to understand. This is my job.’

  ‘I don’t have to understand anything, and I never will understand how a person can choose to ruin people’s lives for the sake of a story.’ Shoving his hands in his pockets, he pulled the bits of paper out and let them flutter to the dusty floor. ‘There’s your notes if you still need them. I’m not going to make a fool of myself any more than I have by begging you not to let it go to print, because I know there’s nothing I can say that will stop you. I just want you the hell off my property, and I never want you to come anywhere near this place, or my family, again. You understand?’

  ‘But—’

  He took a step forwards, his eyes wild. ‘I mean it, Charlize. Do you have any idea how much this is going to break my mother’s heart?’

  Charlize nodded sadly as she hugged her arms around herself. She sensed a hesitation in Dallas as she did, as if he hated seeing her in so much pain and wanted to comfort her, but as quickly as the sensation had come, it was gone.

  Dallas dropped his head and sighed. ‘She’s had enough heartache in her life. She doesn’t deserve this. And especially from a woman she now considers one of her friends. She trusted you, Charlize … We all did.’ He gave her one last look of disappointment and then turned and walked away, leaving her standing there in floods of tears.

  Suddenly he stopped, and she prayed that he would turn back, say something—anything—other than demanding she leave and never come back. But he didn’t. He just shook his head once more and continued out into the sunshine, taking a piece of Charlize’s heart with him.

  She fell to he
r knees, sobs wracking her body. She felt like the biggest bitch on earth, and believed she deserved everything she got. And all this because she wanted a promotion—which she’d give up in a heartbeat to see the look of love in Dallas’s eyes once again. Who was she to share a secret that could shatter the Armstrongs’ world?

  And it was at this very moment, when she felt the lowest she’d ever been—even worse than the night she’d walked in on Alistair and Samantha ravishing each other—she realised just how deeply her feelings ran for the gorgeous, kind, loving, one-in-a-million country man, and the knowledge of how much he now hated her tore her very core into tiny little fragments.

  Half an hour later, with her face washed and covered in make-up so Katherine and Reg wouldn’t see her sadness, Charlize gave them both a quick hug goodbye, feeling deceitful just for doing so. But what else was she meant to do?

  ‘Thank you both, for everything.’ She felt a sob rising and swallowed it down. There was no way in hell she wanted to explain everything, only to then see the same disappointment and loathing in Katherine and Reg’s eyes as she’d just witnessed in Dallas’s. They could hate her once she’d left—she couldn’t cope with experiencing it firsthand.

  ‘You’re welcome back anytime, love,’ Katherine said with a warm smile. ‘I’m going to miss you.’

  ‘I second that. We’re going to miss your happy face, and your yummy cooking,’ Reg added as he rubbed his rotund belly. ‘So make sure you’re no stranger to Rollingstone Ridge.’

  Barely holding herself together, Charlize gave a quick wave and then clambered into the back of the waiting car, gathering Bruce into her arms for some familiar comfort.

  ‘Please, just go,’ she said to the driver, her voice breaking along with what was left of her heart. In a blur of tears and anger, she yanked the wedding ring from her finger, using every bit of resolve not to throw it out the window. Turning in her seat, she watched out the back window as Katherine and Reg disappeared in the trail of dust, her tears obscuring her vision as she wept for all that she had lost, and for those she was about to hurt in the name of journalism.