Daintree

by Annie Seaton

  Emma closed her eyes as fear trickled through her. ‘He’s saying someone deliberately tampered with my car?’

  ‘Yes. And it’s because you were out there poking your nose into that bird business. I told you to stay away from the forest, didn’t I?’

  Everyone had, she thought.

  ‘I told you it was dangerous. You’re lucky you didn’t bloody kill yourself when you ran off the road,’ George persisted.

  Emma bit her lip. ‘He’s got to be wrong. It could have been a rock or something.’

  ‘It was cut, Emma. Sliced through cleanly. I saw it.’ He patted his pocket and pulled out a wad of nicotine gum. ‘I told you to stay out of it.’

  ‘I’m going to tell Sergeant Smith. He’s over there waiting for the tug-of-war to start.’ She handed the clipboard to George. ‘Hold this for me. I’ll be back in a minute.’

  George’s eyes widened and his voice shook. ‘You can’t go telling the police anything. I already told you that.’

  ‘I have to. I’ve got to report my accident for my insurance, and I’m going to tell him what Reg said too.’

  ‘No, Emma!’ Agitation filled George’s voice. ‘Those men mean business. And they won’t care who you are. Woman doctor or not.’

  ‘Which men?’

  He stared at her and she watched his shoulders slump as he came to a decision. ‘It’s that copper.’

  ‘Which copper.’

  ‘That Anderson bloke.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I recognised his voice after he hit me.’ George nodded.

  Emma’s skin crawled with revulsion. Not only was Craig a sleaze, it looked like he was involved in something criminal. She was surprised to see a glint of tears in George’s eyes as he looked up at her. ‘I was stupid. They snuck up on me, but I heard them talking when they thought I was out to it. Whatever you know, you have to keep it quiet.’ He squeezed her hand hard.

  ‘I can’t promise that, George. These men are breaking the law and they have a helpless old woman terrified. And they assaulted you. It could have been much worse too.’

  ‘Yeah, but he is the fucking law.’ His voice was full of disgust.

  ‘Are you absolutely sure it was Craig Anderson?’

  ‘Yes. He got bit by a bird. Check his finger and you’ll know I’m telling the truth.’

  It hit Emma like a steam train. Craig’s finger had been bandaged when she’d seen him up at Wilma’s last Friday. She put her hand to her eyes. ‘Oh no, and I asked him to keep an eye on Wilma. You said “they” snuck up on you. How many?’

  ‘I don’t know. I only heard one other bloke speak. I didn’t recognise his voice but he seemed to be the boss.’

  Emma tried to shake free the fear that had settled in her chest. ‘Stay here. I won’t be long.’

  ‘Doctor Em, please. No!’

  She shook off George’s hand and strode around the edge of the grassed area. She barely heard the laughter and the screaming of the children running in the race. She bit her lip, thinking of how much she would say. Troy had been right. He’d said there were locals involved, but he’d said he’d already spoken to the sergeant about being discrete.

  Sergeant Smith was on the footpath. Despite the heat, he was wearing a jacket and tie, and his cheeks were ruddier than usual. A small dark cigar was clamped between his lips. Emma wrinkled her nose at the bitter smell and he waved the smoke away.

  ‘Sorry, Doc. Keeps the mozzies away.’ He didn’t look apologetic and kept smoking as he regarded her. ‘Are you ready for me over there?’

  She glanced over at the park. The children’s races were still going. ‘Soon.’

  ‘I won’t be long.’ He bent down and ground the stub into the grass.

  ‘I wanted to have a quick word if I may.’

  ‘Sure. But I’m pretty right. I’ve got the rules here.’ He tapped the pocket of his jacket.

  Emma folded her arms. ‘It’s not about the tug-of-war, although I did want to check we’re still on for three pm. It’s about my car.’

  He frowned. ‘Yeah, three pm it is. What about your car?’

  ‘I had a bit of trouble with my brakes last night out on the Cape Tribulation Road. I ran off the road and my car’s pretty banged up. Reg reckons it was deliberate. He said the brakes were tampered with.’

  ‘You okay?’ The sergeant stared at her for a moment and then shook his head. ‘Bloody kids.’

  ‘What kids?’ Emma jumped as a high-pitched squeal came over the PA.

  ‘You park in town? At your clinic?’

  ‘I do.’

  He turned away and coughed into his hand. ‘It’s not the first time this has happened in the car parks this week. It’s happened to others. We’re looking into it.’

  ‘So you don’t believe I was targeted deliberately?’

  ‘I doubt it, Doc. Just random stupid behaviour. Lot of that in kids these days.’ He buttoned his jacket and straightened his tie, full of self-importance. ‘Don’t worry, it’s under control.’ He narrowed his eyes and looked at her. ‘Looks like they’re ready for me over there. Anything else bothering you?’

  ‘No. Thanks for your time.’ Emma turned and headed back across the park. George had followed her some of the way and he was leaning against his ute. As she approached him he turned away and spat out a wad of nicotine gum onto the grass.

  ‘George!’

  ‘Bloody stuff tastes foul.’ He bent and picked up the gum.

  ‘So you’ve told me many times. But since you’ve stopped smoking I haven’t heard you coughing as much.’ She held her hand out for the clipboard.

  ‘So what did he say?’

  ‘It’s nothing to worry about.’

  Emma and George sprang apart as a shadow fell across them.

  It was Jeremy, who looked curiously between the two of them. ‘You two look serious. Everything okay? Not crook again are you, George?’

  ‘Nothing that a durrie wouldn’t fix.’ George slunk away.

  Emma grabbed Jeremy’s arm. ‘I need to talk to you.’

  ‘Come on Doc, we’re ready.’ Jeremy looked around as someone called him from the door of the change room.

  ‘The team’s getting changed to go out. Can it wait?’

  ‘Okay.’ Emma chewed her lip.

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘Not really.’

  Jeremy took her arm and frowned. ‘Are you ill? Is your head okay?’

  Emma waved her arm. ‘No, it’s not that. I’ll talk to you later.’

  ‘Okay. Now seeing as you made me go in this, I came over to make sure you at least cheer me on.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll be there with bells on.’ They hurried towards the grandstand together.

  ‘Different to what you’re used to, Jeremy?’

  ‘It is.’ His mouth tipped in a smile.

  They reached the base of the steps. The 1930s grandstand was almost full; children squealed as they ran along the old seats playing hide and seek. The elderly residents from the aged care facility had been set up in the shade along the front of the stand.

  ‘How about a kiss for luck?’ Jeremy held her fingers firmly in his and gently tugged her towards him.

  She shook her head.

  ‘Old time’s sake then?’

  She held his eyes steadily for a long moment, ignoring the flutter in her lower belly. ‘Don’t push it, Jem. I’ll kiss the whole team if you win the cup. That will have to do.’

  Disappointment clouded his eyes as he dropped her hand. ‘I guess it will.’

  She watched as he walked away, the denim jeans hugging his butt and the white T-shirt defining his broad shoulders and muscular back. Heads turned as he walked past. Even to people who didn’t know him, he had presence and he’d been quickly accepted by the community. He’d been talking to someone different every time she’d passed him today.

  Emma climbed the stairs and forced her thoughts back to the problem in hand. Was Craig really involved in the smuggling? Was it really him w
ho had hit George? She shivered as she remembered she’d told him about Wilma. Emma looked across the lush green grass of the park below when she reached the top of the stairs. George had to be mistaken.

  If he was involved Craig wouldn’t have sent her into the police station to talk to Sergeant Smith.

  Chapter 24

  Saturday afternoon

  Dalrymple Park—Rainbow Day

  Emma settled into the front row of the grandstand next to Jenny and Judy. The hospital was manned with a skeleton staff today. She pushed the worry about Craig to one side as she watched the next team coming out of the change room below them.

  Judy leaned over to Emma. ‘The shire council beat the bank team and this is the second heat.’

  Sergeant Smith held up his hand as both teams grabbed the rope. His deep voice boomed over the microphone. ‘Pick up the rope,’ he called.

  The second heat was decided. Hoots of appreciation filled the air as the next teams emerged from the change room. The boys from the Rural Fire Service had come out in their Speedos and brought an appreciative smile to many faces. A few female hands were fanning cheeks amongst screams of laughter.

  Even Jeff had stripped down despite his portly physique. Cissy hurried up the steps and joined them.

  ‘Oh my goodness, how embarrassing. I’ll never live it down,’ she said.

  ‘It’s great to see everyone in the spirit of the day.’ Emma bumped her with her shoulder. ‘For a middle-aged bloke, he’s looking pretty good, Cis.’

  The girls cheered as the grey nomies team ran out. They were dressed conservatively in black shorts and yellow T-shirts and the RFS guys quickly pulled them over the line.

  There was much back-slapping and congratulations as the visitors conceded defeat. To Emma’s fleeting disappointment the medical team ran out and competed in white coats. Jeremy stood a head taller than the rest of the team and Emma cheered as they beat the town team.

  Within half an hour, the heats and the semi-finals were over. The girls let out a whoop. The medical team were to face up to the Rural Fire Service for the final.

  Cissy fanned herself with the program. ‘Well, I don’t know who to cheer for!’

  The firemen ran from the change room. They’d changed into their fire uniforms for the final and the crowd erupted in a huge cheer. The firemen lined up and waited in the centre of the field and the PA crackled as someone turned up the volume.

  Out swaggered the medical team to the words of ‘Wild Thing’. The doctors, paramedics and wardsmen postured and hammed it up for the crowd.

  Emma caught her breath. How much had Jeremy had to do with the choice of song? That had been his nickname for her in those heady early days. Those lazy sex-fuelled afternoons when they were supposed to be studying.

  ‘Wild thing,’ he’d whispered against her hair as they’d caught their breath in her bed.

  Now Jeremy stood in the middle of the oval, dressed in a pair of jeans that sat low on his slim hips.

  And nothing else.

  No shirt.

  No shoes.

  Just jeans and wraparound sunglasses and a glorious expanse of tanned, muscled chest that brought a collective gasp from the crowd around her.

  Each of the men wore the same, but Jeremy was the only one Emma had eyes for. She bit her lip and tried to focus on the rest of the team as they danced up to the firemen.

  ‘The RFS are one short,’ Jenny said.

  ‘I wasn’t counting,’ Cissy said drily. ‘Too busy perving on the new doc. Don’t tell Jeff. Looks like Troy hasn’t turned up.’

  Emma started. She hadn’t seen Troy all day and hadn’t even given him a thought.

  ‘You all right there, Em?’ Jenny’s eyes were dancing.

  ‘Yes, why?’

  ‘You’re very flushed and you keep looking at that scrumptious man.’

  ‘Who? Jeremy?’

  Jenny slapped her sides in laughter. ‘Oh girlfriend, you are so obvious. Then she drew in her breath on a gasp. ‘Look, there’s Troy now.’

  ‘I didn’t think he was going to turn up,’ Cissy said.

  Troy ran out from the change room and joined the firemen’s team. Unlike the rest of them, he was dressed in a pair of Speedos and heavy boots.

  ‘Looks like they didn’t tell him about the costume change,’ Emma said. She stared at Troy and sighed. Not a flutter, not one physiological reaction. All she wanted to do was look at Jeremy, damn it.

  ‘Let’s go down where they can hear us cheering.’ Cissy stood and headed for the stairs.

  The three women followed her down the steps to the grass verge closest to the area that had been marked out for the competition.

  ‘That’s not fair. That bloke’s got boots on,’ someone called from the crowd. ‘Everyone else is bare-footed.’

  ‘Who’s looking at his boots?’ Cissy murmured.

  Emma pushed her shoulder gently. ‘Control yourself, you’re a married woman.’

  ‘Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the goods on display.’

  ‘Wait,’ Sergeant Smith boomed. ‘Please remove your shoes, sir.’

  Troy sat on the grass and slowly removed his boots. The medicos heckled him, but he grinned and shrugged as if to say it was worth a try.

  Sergeant Smith pointed to the boots on the grass and a young boy ran out and collected them.

  ‘Now, the rules may need to be repeated.’ He held the microphone to his mouth.

  Emma rolled her eyes. ‘He can’t help himself, can he?’

  ‘He’s the same everywhere. Give him a microphone and you can’t shut him up,’ Cissy giggled. ‘Loves the sound of his own voice.’

  ‘This red mark on the rope needs to be at a perpendicular angle to the exact centre point on the ground, before the commencement of the game. There are two white marks exactly thirteen feet from the red mark on either side of the rope. The game is won when—’

  ‘We know the rules!’

  ‘You already told us!’

  ‘Pick up the rope,’ Sergeant Smith called.

  Both teams picked up the rope and every man leaned back.

  ‘Here they go.’ Cissy grabbed Emma’s arm.

  ‘Pull.’

  The crowd erupted in a roar as the men pulled. The medical team had the upper hand from the outset.

  ‘Come on, Jeremy,’ Emma called. ‘Pull!’

  She forced herself to admire the muscles rippling in Troy’s broad chest. He looked up and grinned at her. ‘Go, Troy.’

  She shrugged when Cissy looked at her.

  ‘Gotta be fair.’ Emma held her breath as the firemen dug deep and the medicos lost a couple of feet. Their bodies were at an angle of thirty degrees to the ground.

  She jumped up and down beside Cissy, screaming. ‘Jeremy—pull!’

  Each team gained a little ground and then gave it back as the other pulled strongly. Finally, with a deep roar, the medical team put in a supreme effort, and the firemen fell to the ground as the white mark on the rope crossed the centre.

  ‘Yay! We won!’ Emma jumped up and down with the other women. They all ran onto the field as the medicos climbed the small stage that had been set up on the side.

  Sergeant Smith picked up the trophy and held it to his burly chest as he grasped the microphone with his other hand. ‘For the third year running, the hospital team has won the annual Dalrymple Gorge Preservation Fund tug-of-war. I’d like to tell you a little bit about the town. I’ve lived here for ten years and as you know I’m president of the Rotary club—’

  ‘Give it a break, Sarge,’ someone called from the crowd.

  ‘Just present the trophy. The guys deserve a beer.’

  Jeff popped a bottle of champagne and sprayed the winning team. The sergeant jumped back and dropped the microphone. He shoved the trophy at Jeremy before he hurried down the steps with a disgusted look on his face.

  Emma caught Jeremy’s eye as he held the trophy up with a huge grin. She gave him a thumbs-up.

  The men h
eaded for the change rooms to get dressed and the crowd dispersed quickly. Emma headed off to help with the clean-up.

  ‘Come over here, Emma. I came to collect.’ The deep, familiar voice sent a little frisson of warmth down her back.

  She turned slowly. Jeff and Jeremy had caught her up. Jeremy was still shirtless and he lifted his sunglasses with a grin. ‘Come on.’

  ‘Well done, both teams. Commiserations, Jeff. Medicos keep the trophy. Three years in a row. Great job!’ Emma knew she was babbling but she could hardly take her eyes off Jeremy’s bare chest. She tried to focus on his sunglasses, which he dangled by his side.

  ‘We did good, didn’t we? Good song too, hey Em?’

  She forced herself to look up at him. His smile was innocent but his eyes were dancing. ‘You’re playing dirty, Jem.’

  ‘So . . . I believe I was promised a victory kiss?’

  Emma stood quickly on her toes and brushed a kiss against Jeremy’s smooth cheek.

  ‘Oh, no, you don’t get off so lightly.’ He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close. His sunglasses dropped from his hand and bounced on the grass beside the tent.

  Jeff’s chuckle was the last thing she was aware of before Jeremy’s warm lips claimed hers. Her thoughts stuttered to a halt and she lifted her hands to his bare shoulders to push him away, but somehow found herself holding him in a tight grip. His hands slid up her back and a low moan sounded in her throat. Her fingers brushed against his neck and he deepened the kiss. As the blood hummed in her ears, Emma moved closer to his bare chest, her eyes closed, lost in the moment.

  Danger, delight and reluctance warred with the desire to lose herself in his arms . . . in his kiss. For one wild moment, it didn’t matter where they were. Emma drew a shuddering breath and pulled away when Cissy’s amused voice reached her.

  ‘Shall I call the rest of the medicos over for their kisses too?’

  Raising a shaky hand to tuck back her hair, Emma focused on keeping her voice calm, looking anywhere but at Jeremy.

  ‘That one was for the whole team.’ Her voice was husky. She cleared her throat, clasping her hands together and struggling for calm.

  ‘Okay, boys. Fun’s over. Go and get dressed. The official thank yous are about to start.’ Cissy saved her from any further embarrassment. ‘Well done, Emma. Jenny said that with the raffles and the stall holder fees, and a hefty donation from the Caravan Muster group, we’ve already raised more than twenty thousand dollars this year. And that doesn’t even count the proceeds of the food stalls yet.’