Lynsey put the phone down and recounted what Penny had said. ‘It makes sense to copy everything. How many times do you hear reports of police evidence going missing?’
‘She’s very thorough. We should do as she says. Who knows how far this thing will go.’
Lynsey massaged her tired eyes with her fingertips. ‘Do you still have that little photocopier at the shop?’
‘No, it broke years ago. The coloured ink cartridges were so expensive I never bothered to replace it.’
Lynsey took a sip from her replenished coffee cup. ‘Do any of the neighbours have a photocopier?’
‘I wouldn’t ask even if they did. You know how people talk around here.’
‘That’s true.’
‘Who else would have a photocopier?’ her mother mused. ‘The library has one but the council chambers closed at five.’
‘We know Willow doesn’t,’ Lynsey joked, trying to lighten the mood. She picked up her pen and began numbering each of the pages on her pad. ‘I could always ask Julian. There’s one at the depot. I saw it the other night.’
Her mother looked doubtful. ‘Do you think we should involve Julian in all this?’
‘He knows everything anyway, Mum. I told him.’ Refusing to react to her mother’s widening eyes, Lynsey explained how her father had threatened to fire Donna Stone. ‘I suspect he and Yasmin didn’t want me working with them in case I discovered the fraud. Breaking up my relationship with Julian was a way of making sure I left Mindalby.’
Her mother sank into the nearest chair. ‘Just when I thought those two couldn’t sink any lower …’
With her mother safely seated, Lynsey decided it was a good time to tell her about the ethanol plant, and the perilous financial position Julian would find himself in if the mill closed permanently.
‘Oh, poor Julian.’
‘He’s okay, Mum. He’s worried of course, like everyone else. But he’s tough, in a good way, and he’s never been frightened to back himself. I wouldn’t expect him to change now. These kinds of situations only make him more determined.’ Lynsey paused, surprised at the words spilling from her mouth. This was how she really felt about Julian. And she’d needed to say the words aloud to acknowledge it.
‘Even as a young man I admired him,’ Veronica said. ‘He came to see me a few days after you left for university. He said I wouldn’t be seeing him around the house anymore and he wanted to thank me for all the lovely meals I’d cooked for him and for how supportive I’d always been.’ Her mother’s voice grew a little husky. ‘He didn’t have to do that. I was just his girlfriend’s mother.’
‘He always liked you, Mum,’ Lynsey spoke around the growing lump in her throat. ‘He always used to tell me how cool you were.’
‘He was heartbroken that day he came to visit. There were dark circles beneath his eyes and he was unshaven at a time when it wasn’t fashionable. I wanted to ask him why he’d given you that ultimatum but I decided not to. You were both so young, and I didn’t want to interfere.’
‘I doubt he would have told you anyway, Mum.’
‘Probably not.’ Her mother stood up. ‘Well, let’s get on with this. What can I do to make this happen?’
‘Can you call Willow and get Julian’s mobile number for me?’
While her mother phoned Willow, Lynsey photographed each page of her inventory. It took two emails to get the entire list to Penny Fordham. A reply came back within seconds saying she’d received them.
‘I’m only going to photocopy that pile.’ Lynsey pointed to the stack she’d labelled Incriminating Evidence. ‘Do you have a cardboard box I can put it all in, Mum? Even a couple of large plastic bags will do.’
‘I’ll have something.’ She handed Lynsey a piece of paper with Julian’s number written on it. ‘You go ahead and call him.’
Lynsey glanced at the clock on the wall. It was eleven on a Friday night. Julian could be out on the town with Caprice, or asleep in bed … with Caprice. Or making love …
Lynsey ignored the images filling her head. She paced around the table, stopping at the wood-burning stove to warm her back. Who else could she ring if Julian didn’t take calls from unknown randoms late on a Friday night? She’d have to leave him a voice message. He might listen to a voice message, or read a text.
We’re not exclusive. We’re just having a bit of fun.
Her thumb traced the sensitive skin on her wrist where he’d pressed his lips and her body heated at the memory. She stepped away from the fire. She couldn’t think about that now, couldn’t worry about whether or not he was with Caprice Newton.
Julian Stone had something she needed, and it came in the shape of a photocopier.
Chapter Fifteen
Julian tossed the three empty beer cans and a pizza box into the wheelie bin and slammed the lid closed before the odour could reach his nose. He retraced his steps to the back door, trying not to step on the neighbour’s ginger tabby as it curled around his ankles miaowing pitifully.
He leaned over and scratched the cat behind the ears. ‘Are Mum and Dad out tonight?’ he said, ignoring the phone vibrating in his pocket. It was probably Caprice wanting to know why he hadn’t turned up at the Ace. Not that they had a standing arrangement.
An icy wind blew right through him and he shivered inside his t-shirt. He had to end whatever it was they had going on. Despite the ‘casual’ label they’d attached to their relationship, he was beginning to suspect Caprice had serious domestic intentions.
He wasn’t ready for domestic.
He headed for the bathroom, switching off lights as he went. The irony was, Lynsey was happy for him to be going out with Caprice when he couldn’t muster the enthusiasm himself. One look, one conversation, one touch of Lynsey’s hand and Friday Night Football on the telly and pizza became more appealing to him than turning up at the pub.
His phone beeped as he was discarding his clothes. He reached into the shower cubicle to turn on the water before glancing at the screen.
Unknown caller.
Strange for this time of night. He dialled into his message bank and put the phone on the vanity, the computerised voice crackling through the loudspeaker. You have three saved messages and one new voice message.
Julian picked up the soap and ducked under the spray. He sighed with pleasure as the warm water soaked through his hair and cascaded over his shoulders, soothing his tense muscles.
Message received today at eleven-o-two pm. ‘Hello, Julian … it’s Lynsey.’
Julian’s heart gave one big leap and the soap slipped from his fingers.
‘I hate to ask, and I completely understand if you’re out somewhere … or … already in bed.’
He flicked off the mixer tap and lunged for the phone, fumbling it in his soapy hands in his haste to turn up the volume.
‘I need to use a photocopier … urgently.’ There was a short pause. ‘I remembered seeing one in your office when I was there with Willow.’ A longer pause this time. When she spoke again her voice was lower, huskier. ‘Believe me when I say I wouldn’t interrupt your evening if it wasn’t urgent. Please, give me a ring if you can help out.’
Help out? Julian hit the recall button before she could phone anyone else.
She answered on the second ring.
‘It’s Julian,’ he said, puddles of water pooling at his feet. ‘Sorry I missed your call. Of course you can use the photocopier.’
She expelled a breath as though she’d been holding it in while she waited for his answer. ‘That would be great. I really appreciate it.’
‘No drama.’ Julian pushed wet fingers through his hair and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He was sober as a judge but … ‘Only one thing. I’ve had a few beers. Three to be exact, in the same number of hours. I’m probably right to drive but the cops are brutal on Friday nights.’
‘I’ll pick you up. I’d hate you to fail a breathalyser test because of me. Does it suit you to go now … or later?’
He smiled at her hesitancy. Was she wondering if he was with Caprice? He chose his words carefully. ‘I’m free now.’
‘Oh, that’s fantastic.’ Another hesitation. ‘Where are you living?’
He gave her the address. ‘Right opposite the park where we were today.’
‘I know it.’
He imagined her holding the phone and nodding. The smart, serious girl with Marilyn Monroe sexy blonde bedhead hair.
‘I’ll see you in about ten minutes,’ she said.
Julian showered and dressed in five. He brushed his teeth and ran a comb through his hair. In the bedroom he slipped a leather jacket over his jeans and t-shirt, then headed for the garage. By the time Lynsey pulled up outside he had the Land Cruiser parked on the street.
‘We should take my car,’ he said when she rolled down the window. ‘We don’t want the Camry drawing the attention of the workers in the carpark. You know what happened last time.’
She gazed at the four-wheel-drive from behind black-framed glasses.
‘It’s an automatic,’ he said, wondering if she feared it was a manual.
She turned tired eyes on him and nodded. ‘It’s probably a good idea.’
‘Come on.’ He opened the driver’s door and watched her climb out. She wore the same clothes as she had this morning—jeans, stretch top and a well-cut trench coat with wide lapels. The only thing she’d added was a vivid green scarf the colour of her eyes, looped numerous times around her neck.
‘Is the stuff you need copying in the boot?’
She nodded. ‘In a cardboard box.’
He handed her his keys. ‘Get out of the wind. It’s freezing out here.’
After parking the Camry in the garage, he stowed the box on the rear seat of the Land Cruiser and climbed in beside Lynsey. ‘Another half hour and I’d be fine to drive. I just don’t want to take the risk.’
‘It’s fine. It’s a Toyota. Similar dashboard to Mum’s.’
‘Yeah, of course.’
She indicated and they pulled away from the kerb with a bone-jarring jerk. Julian grabbed the armrest then hastily let go in case she noticed. His accelerator was probably lighter than the Camry’s. She sat ramrod straight, fingers strangling the wheel in a white-knuckled grip. Julian shifted his gaze from Lynsey to the road and back again. Was she a nervous driver or was she nervous because he was in the passenger seat?
A traffic light on Burton Park Road turned red and for an indecisive few seconds Lynsey braked, accelerated, then braked again.
‘Sorry,’ she muttered as he put a hand on the dash and braced himself against the forward momentum. ‘I hardly drive anymore.’
‘No kidding?’ he said with a quick grin. ‘Don’t worry, my insurance is paid up.’
At this time of night the traffic was light. Still, Julian was relieved to see Burton Park Road stretching into the darkness with no other car in sight.
‘How do you get around in Brisbane?’ he asked when his heart rate had returned to normal. ‘Public transport?’
‘I have a bike.’
A cyclist. That would explain her slimness.
The light turned green and Lynsey took off again. He couldn’t help watching her every move like a driving instructor watching over a learner. ‘Is it a road bike?’ he asked, not sure if talking would relax her or distract her.
‘More of a hybrid.’
‘You want to be careful on that,’ he said, troubled by the thought of her riding amongst heavy traffic. Then again, it could be safer than her driving. ‘You’ve heard the saying. “It’s not a matter of if you get hit, it’s a matter of when.”’
‘I live close to the campus so most of my riding is within the grounds of the university. It’s cheaper, better for the environment, and it gives me plenty of exercise. The downside is I never get to practise driving.’
‘Except to unleash yourself on the Mindalby locals once a year, right?’ he teased, feeling better now he could see the depot up ahead.
She laughed, and despite his terror at her tendency to oversteer, Julian smiled back. That was the thing with Lynsey, she was smart but she’d always had the ability to laugh at herself. She’d never been one of those chronic overachievers who needed to be the best at everything.
‘Pull into the driveway and I’ll unlock the gate,’ he said, taking the depot keys from his pocket. He jumped out and slammed the door, hoping Lynsey had her foot on the brake as he undid the padlock. He swung the wire gate open and stood off to one side. Motioning her through, his gaze lengthened to the mill carpark across the road. Fires burned inside two strategically placed forty-four gallon drums. Laid-off workers gathered around warming their hands though the workers with children had gone home. Others were sitting in collapsible picnic chairs, their legs tucked between quilts and blankets
Julian unlocked the gate and hopped back into the Land Cruiser. ‘Pull into the parking space to the right of the office door,’ he told Lynsey. ‘That’s where I always park. Okay, slow down and swing it in here.’
She did as he instructed and he leaned over and killed the lights the instant she pulled up. ‘People are used to seeing my car here at all hours, but we don’t want them seeing you.’
She shook her head, her hair a white cloud in the shadowy confines of the car. ‘I can’t risk anyone seeing this, Julian. We’re meeting Mum’s lawyer first thing in the morning. She suggested we keep copies of some of the records for our own protection. Things can get lost apparently.’
‘That makes sense. Come on then. The quicker we get it done the quicker we’ll be out of here.’
Chapter Sixteen
Veronica hugged the shadows, her slim body wrapped in a heavy overcoat she didn’t need to keep warm. Red-hot fury was well and truly insulating her from the cold the way her lace-up Nikes silenced her footsteps at midnight.
Her gloved hand tightened on the wrench inside her pocket.
So much for dignity.
It was an overrated quality anyway.
She turned the corner and stopped, the icy wind cutting in behind her glasses and making her eyes water. Blinking away the moisture, she stared up at Donald and Yasmin’s grandiose McMansion, proof that money couldn’t buy good taste. Not that there was any money left for Lynsey, or the mill employees who’d worked so long and so hard.
Veronica approached slowly, surveying the street as she went. A dog growled from behind a brush fence. Veronica didn’t flinch. Dogs didn’t scare her. Not much did. She’d grown up on a property with large animals, witnessed them being slaughtered for Christmas dinner, cried as working dogs and horses were put out of their misery. All part of country life.
As for pests and vermin—they came in all shapes and sizes. Her husband and Yasmin were living proof of that.
Veronica walked to the front door, glancing at the sandstone pedestal set into the middle of a lush green lawn that seemed to thumb its nose at the drought-ravaged countryside. She pressed the doorbell then cupped her hands to the sides of her face to peer into the shadowy interior of the entry. The doorbell pealed out its notes, then went quiet. She pressed it a second time and waited. Nothing. Only the sound of leaves scuttling along the path and a dog barking in the distance.
Veronica took out her phone and called Donald. Over the years she’d needed to call him occasionally, like the time Lynsey had been ill with glandular fever, and when she’d organised her surprise graduation dinner.
‘Hello.’
‘It’s Veronica.’
‘Wh …’ There was a pause, then, ‘Do you know what time it is?’
‘You can sleep all day now you’ve sent the mill broke. I have something important to say.’
‘Now?’ There was a loud sigh. ‘All right. Go on, say it.’
‘Face to face. Downstairs.’
‘What? I’m not at home at the moment.’
Veronica cut the call and dragged out the wrench. Burying her face in the crook of her arm she took a huge backswing and drove the heavy tool s
quare into the centre of the tinted glass panel. Fragments scattered in all directions like blood splatter. A chorus of canines cut through the silence warning the intruder to stay away from their territory.
Donald appeared on the landing. ‘What are you doing?’ he yelled, his face white with shock as he picked his way through the minefield of glass.
‘So you are home.’ She gripped the wrench and stared at him through a jagged hole that resembled the mouth of a great white shark. ‘Lucky you put your slippers on.’
‘You’re irrational, Veronica.’ Donald raised his hands in a placatory gesture. ‘Go home to bed.’
‘I’m not going to hit you, you dolt.’ She turned and lobbed the wrench onto the grass. ‘I rang the bell twice, though I knew you’d be too gutless to come to the door.’
‘If you don’t go, I’m calling the police,’ he said through the hole in the glass.
‘Go ahead. They’ll charge me with malicious damage. But my unblemished record will ensure I get off with a fine and a good behaviour bond.’ Veronica looked him up and down and shook her head. ‘You, on the other hand, are likely to be a guest of Her Majesty for quite a long time.’
Donald opened the door and stepped outside. His eyes slid to the wrench half hidden in the lawn. Glass crunching beneath the rubber soles of his slippers, he gazed around at the street as though expecting someone lying in wait to take a pot shot at him.
Understandable.
They were probably lining up.
All the way over, Veronica’s inner child had longed to scream and shout and throw a tantrum like a child denied a lolly in the check-out line at the supermarket. She’d given way to her child-self, smashing the glass panel with an intensity of emotion that was only now beginning to wane. She’d never deliberately smashed anything in her life before. Only some dinner plates at a Greek wedding. That had been in celebration, though perhaps the sense of satisfaction was the same. Now she needed to regain her inner adult, because there was no way she was leaving without saying her piece.
She took a deep breath, her voice shaking with barely controlled anger. ‘You have failed our daughter, emotionally, financially. To top it off, instead of protecting her you undermined her relationship with Julian by threatening to dismiss his mother if he didn’t do as you said.’
A Daughter’s Choice Page 10