Daintree

by Annie Seaton

  ‘Your place is here in Sydney,’ his father had said when Jeremy had declined the offer for the third time. ‘With your family.’

  Family? It was impossible to believe that Brenton would ever want him back in the city. Jeremy’s actions, or his lack of action, had destroyed a part of their family. The loss would always be a part of the relationship.

  He shrugged and reached for the bottle again, pouring another two fingers of whisky into the small glass. So much for stopping. He threw it back in one gulp, appreciating the cruel burn as it seared his throat.

  In the short time he’d spent in the emergency room tonight, it had become quite clear that he’d been kidding himself. As long as he was involved in any health career, he would always be expected to help in an emergency. That was the oath he had taken.

  ‘I will not be ashamed to say “I know not,” nor will I fail to call in my colleagues when the skills of another are needed for a patient’s recovery.’

  It didn’t say anything about walking out when he should have helped.

  His thoughts blurred and ran together and Jeremy welcomed the fuzziness. After tonight it would be it quite clear to anyone at the hospital that he wasn’t to be relied on. After kissing Emma this afternoon, he’d briefly indulged the hope that they might be able to get together, but he’d been kidding himself if he thought rekindling that relationship could make everything better.

  He slammed the glass onto the table. Lifting his hands to his face, he rubbed his eyes.

  It was time for him to face the truth. He had to deal with it.

  Or leave.

  He was kidding himself now and letting himself wallow in self-pity. He had an opportunity to make a life up here with Emma, if she’d have him. And by god, he wasn’t going to let that dark place in his heart drag him down again.

  In the short time he’d been here, he had become a part of the community. That was an entirely new experience for him and one that he was appreciating more each day. Emma was a big part of his entry into this world. He was valued here as a person, not because of what sort of car he drove or where he lived or where he was seen dining or socialising.

  He pushed himself to his feet and opened the door to go inside. The lights of a vehicle blinded him as it turned the corner and headed down towards the mill on the next block. With a shrug, he closed the door, kicked off his running shoes and stretched out on the bed.

  *

  After a quick shower and a toasted sandwich, Emma fell into bed. Although she was tired, sleep eluded her as her mind raced from one thing to another. Had someone been in her house? Had her brake line been cut by kids, or was something more sinister going on? She jumped at every noise as the old house settled and creaked in the dark.

  And what about that kiss with Jem? She had to put aside her feelings for him or she was in for heartache—and she wasn’t going to let that happen. She thumped the pillow and rolled over, remembering the disdain on his mother’s face. She hadn’t been good enough then, and if being a doctor meant she might be more acceptable now, she didn’t want a bar of that.

  And there was Wilma—Emma was worried about her chances. She’d called the hospital and been reassured that she was sleeping, but her heart was in a bad way. She didn’t like the way Wilma had been talking tonight. It seemed as though she had given up, and with the elderly that was often the thing that tipped the balance between life and death.

  She thumped the pillow again and kicked off the sheet. The humidity was building as summer approached and the small house didn’t have an air conditioner. She reached over and turned on the overhead fan to stir the air.

  In the end, she gave up trying to get to sleep and padded out to the kitchen and put the kettle on, before digging deep in the cupboard for a chamomile tea bag, one of Wilma’s blends. Jock Newby flashed into her head; he’d probably say it was more of her hocus pocus. Damned fool. Jenny had told her that he’d confronted Wilma at her car. She suspected it had been the stress of that confrontation that had set Wilma’s blood pressure soaring and sent her into cardiac arrest. There’d been no sign of him as they’d worked on Wilma. Why was he going on about it so much? She poured the boiling water and let the bag steep.

  Tomorrow was going to be a challenge. Spending the day with Jeremy in his rented house, helping him put his furniture together would test her willpower, but she was determined not to give in. She stood at the sink in the darkness looking out over the river. The new moon was rising, but only a sliver lit the dark sky to the east. An arc of bright light swept the treetops high in the paddock across the river as a vehicle turned off the village road. Emma narrowed her eyes and gripped the edge of the sink as the low noise of a plane’s engine reached her. She glanced at the clock. It was the same as last time: almost 4.00 am.

  Right. This time she was going to find out exactly what was going on over there. If she saw Craig there, it would be confirmation that he was involved.

  Emma hurried into the bedroom and Bowser gave a little snuffle from the end of her bed as she reached for her jeans and slipped them on over her pyjama bottoms. She waited until he tucked his nose down again and settled back to sleep. Without making any noise, she picked up a pair of socks and closed the bedroom door behind her. Grabbing her slip-on leather boots, she opened the back door and stepped onto the porch.

  The vehicle lights had disappeared but she could just make out voices from across the narrow river. As she watched, a flicker of torchlight pointed skywards briefly. She kept to the shadows as she walked slowly down to the edge of the river, keeping an eye out for snakes. In the dim light from the sliver of the moon, she saw that the river was high. Noiselessly she slid the punt away from the bank and jumped in.

  The tide swung it around and rocked it gently from side to side as Emma lay down and reached up for the rope with one hand. Moving across the dark channel towards the other side of the river, the only sound was the occasional quiet slap of water on the side of the punt. She shivered, wondering what was moving in the water beneath her. The punt hit the bank on the village side with a small bump and she sat up slowly; her eyes now fully accustomed to the dark.

  She climbed out and slipped the rope on the bow of the punt around the steel post at the edge of the boat ramp. Keeping to the deep shadows beneath the trees and watching where she was putting her feet, she made her way along the bank until she reached the edge of the paddock where the vehicle was parked. The drone of the plane’s engine slowly got louder and two streams of torchlight pointed to the sky to guide it in. A small bump and the engine cut as it cruised along the narrow paddock.

  She crept along further, trying to listen to the low voices. It sounded like there was two of them on the ground waiting for the plane. She gripped the edge of the overhanging bank above her head and slowly stretched to the tips of her toes. With a stifled gasp, she pulled back; the vehicle was only a stone’s throw from where she was standing. Lights flashed around and over her head to the other side of the river and she held her breath as they played across the wall of her cottage. Her kitchen window was clearly lit and she could see the shelves on the back wall. They would have seen her standing there the last time they were here. Footsteps approached the bank and she dropped to a crouch and put her hands over her face.

  ‘It’s all quiet tonight.’ She heard the creaking of a door and the thud of something hitting the ground.

  ‘Good. There’s been too much interest around here in the last few days.’ The voice was muffled and although it was familiar she couldn’t place it. Maybe George had been mistaken. But if it wasn’t Craig, who was it?

  ‘How many have you got for me?’

  ‘Just the one pair.’

  ‘Hardly worth the bloody trip.’ Emma tipped her head to the side waiting for the response.

  ‘You’ll want to take care of these ones. It’s a rare set. Ninety thou for the pair.’

  ‘Fuckin’ hell! What are they, gold-plated?’

  ‘Don’t you worry about it, just d
eliver them. Make sure they’re X-rayed before you hand them over. We don’t want them breeding this lot over there. And make sure the money goes in within forty-eight hours. Okay, then. Help me with the rest of these.’

  The voices faded as the men walked further away from where she was hiding. She frowned. She’d heard them both before somewhere. She edged forward, trying to hear the rest of the exchange. The riverbank crumbled beneath her feet and there was a soft splash as a clod of earth hit the water.

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘Just a bird or something. Hurry up and get those boxes unloaded.’

  ‘I’m going to see. That piece across the river was watching us the other night.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ve got the doc sorted.’

  Emma drew in a breath. Whoever they were, they knew who she was.

  ‘Is she there tonight?’

  The man laughed. ‘With the other doc, if he got lucky.’

  Emma pressed herself back into the tangle of tree roots in the bank, trying not to think of what else might be in there with her. A cobweb stuck to her face and she closed her eyes as something ran lightly across her forehead. Footsteps rustled in the grass above her head and a shaft of torchlight highlighted her house again and swept down to the edge of the river beneath her backyard. The bitter smell of a cigar drifted down to her hiding place and she stifled a gasp.

  ‘It’s all right. She’s not home, the punt’s on this side. Maybe the lucky bugger did score tonight.’ Now that he was closer, she recognised the voice. It was Sergeant Smith. And the smell of the cigar smoke confirmed it.

  She held her breath as the light played along the edge of the water only a metre from where the toe of her boots was dug into the mud to stop her sliding into the river. Eventually he seemed satisfied and his footsteps receded. She listened as more boxes landed on the ground.

  A few minutes later, a door slammed and the plane’s engine hummed to life again. She waited as it took off, watching as it circled over the low rainforest to the west of her house, staring at the blinking lights until they disappeared into the night sky.

  All was quiet above her; no sound of movement or of a vehicle starting up. But then a movement further along the bank set a pair of ducks squawking into the night air, breaking the silence with their raucous cries. She risked leaning out and glanced along the bank, and pulled back quickly as she saw the bright red tip of a cigarette glowing in the dark. He was still there. A car door slammed.

  ‘Anderson. After you drop me off unload those boxes into the shed at the back of your place.’

  ‘No, I’m going to move this lot to the shed at the police station.’ Craig’s voice was clear now as he moved along the bank directly above her hiding place.

  ‘Who the fuck do you think you are, boy?’ Smith’s voice was belligerent.

  ‘My wife is moving up here. I don’t want her to see them. I’m on my last warning with her with the drugs.’

  ‘I don’t give a flying fuck if the bloody Queen of Sheba is moving here. You do not make the decisions in this game. You don’t know how close you came to getting into big trouble down in Brisbane, dickhead. It would only take one phone call to your uncle and we can pull all of that nasty business up again. Not only will you be out of a job but you’d be inside before you know it.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘You might think you’re more than a player in this game, but you do as you’re told. And keep your mouth shut.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘You fucking will. Do I make myself clear?’ His voice rose and there was a flutter of wings as a couple of birds took off from the bank above Emma.

  ‘Yes.’ Craig’s voice was sullen.

  ‘Yes what?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Don’t mess with me. If you bugger this up, I’ll make you wish you’d never heard of this town. I don’t care who your uncle is.’ Emma’s heart was thudding painfully and her throat ached with the effort of holding her breath and trying not to move as insects crawled over her hands and up her arms. Finally they moved away. A door slammed and the vehicle drove off towards the village. Waiting till all was quiet, she brushed frantically at her arms and pushed out of the wet tangle of roots. She climbed up the bank and peered over to the empty dark paddock.

  She put a shaking hand to her forehead. It was the two policemen who were involved. They’d assaulted George and now she knew for sure that it wasn’t kids who had tampered with her brakes.

  Smith was in it up to his neck and she’d told him about George and Wilma. Emma began to walk back to the punt. She should have listened to Troy and George and kept her mouth shut.

  Chapter 28

  Sunday morning

  Crooked Cottage

  The low overhanging grey sky matched Emma’s mood when she woke the next morning. Heavy clouds were scudding across the sky and small whitecaps stood high in the brown muddy river as the wind pushed the water against the tide. Bowser was scratching at the door demanding to be let out and she climbed wearily out of bed, resisting the temptation to bury her head and let the world go by. There were calls she had to make and promises to keep, no matter how much she had on her mind. She fed Bowser on the verandah and called the hospital.

  ‘Chris is happy with her progress. He’s thinking of not moving her to Cairns,’ Judy told her over the phone.

  ‘So she’s better this morning?’ Emma bit her lip, hoping that George had remembered he was driving her to town. Not having a car was going to make things hard but that was the least of her worries today.

  ‘She’s quite calm now, and pleased to still be here.’

  ‘Okay, please let her know I’ll be there soon.’

  The second call she made was to the rainforest centre. She had to talk to Troy and let him know what she’d seen.

  ‘Good morning. Rainforest Tourist Centre.’

  ‘Troy Greaves please.’ She walked over and opened the door and let Bowser back in.

  ‘I’m sorry. Troy’s not at the centre today. Can someone else help you?’

  ‘No,’ Emma said. ‘It’s personal. Do you have a mobile number where I can reach him?’ Emma realised how little she knew about Troy. She didn’t even know if he lived in town, and she’d never had his mobile number—he’d always called her.

  ‘I’m sorry. I can’t give out personal numbers.’

  ‘It’s essential that I speak to him today.’ Emma’s voice firmed. ‘It’s Doctor Emma Porter from the hospital and I really must speak to him.’

  ‘Just a moment, Doctor Porter.’ The woman’s voice was muffled as she put her hand over the phone.

  Emma tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for her to come back.

  ‘I’m sorry, I can’t give you his number but I can take your number and ask him to call you. He’s down in Cairns for the day.’

  ‘Thank you. Please tell him it’s a matter of urgency.’ Emma gave her mobile number and disconnected.

  Bowser snuggled his head into her lap and she ruffled his fur. ‘Bowsie, what am I going to do?’ Her voice shook and she brushed away the tears that threatened to spill.

  By the time Emma had showered and pulled the punt across the river, George was out the front of his old house waiting for her.

  ‘Where to?’ He chewed on his gum and a scowl split his face.

  ‘What are you so happy about today?’

  ‘Didn’t get much sleep.’

  Emma looked at him curiously. ‘Why? Did something keep you awake?’

  ‘Like what?’ He turned an innocent look her way.

  ‘Nothing, doesn’t matter.’ Emma walked around to the passenger door.

  ‘Mightn’t to you.’ His voice was gruff. ‘But that was a damn fool thing you did last night. I saw you come across the river.’

  Emma’s head flew up and her eyes narrowed. ‘Did the plane wake you up?’

  ‘No. I couldn’t sleep. I heard the punt scrape when you pulled it up.’

  ‘It’s not the first
time the plane’s been there. Have you heard it before?’

  ‘No, I haven’t. You scared ten years’ growth off me, Em. I just about had me own heart attack watching you, making sure you got back safe to your place.’

  ‘I know who it is.’ Her voice was flat.

  ‘You saw him?’

  ‘I saw them. Craig and Sergeant Smith.’

  He stared at her, tight-lipped. ‘I’m not surprised. I told you not to go to the cops. What are you going to do about it?’

  ‘I’m going to tell Troy and he can hand it over to the National Parks guys.’

  ‘I’m so bloody cranky at you, Emma. You could have got yourself killed last night, not to mention your car accident.’ George held the steering wheel tightly and didn’t speak again until they reached town.

  ‘Just be bloody careful today, okay?’ He dropped her off at the front of the hospital and drove off before she could even thank him for the lift.

  As soon as she checked on Wilma, she’d go to the pub and help Jeremy with his move. The thought of being alone with him in his new house brought butterflies to her stomach. She told herself it was only because her nerves were shot by what she’d found out. She gripped her mobile tightly waiting for Troy to call but the phone stayed silent.

  Wilma was pleased to see Emma.

  ‘Emma, if I’m in here for a while, can you please ask George to check up on my place occasionally? Feed the ducks and the chooks?’

  ‘I’m sure he will.’

  ‘And Emma? Can you do something for me too?’

  ‘Of course.’ She smoothed back Wilma’s hair from her forehead. She looked tired but her blood pressure was stable.

  ‘I need a few things from home. It looks like I’m going to be away a while.’ The elderly woman pulled a face. ‘I guess I do need to listen to the doctors a bit more.’

  ‘You do.’ Emma smiled. ‘What do you need?’

  Wilma told her where to find her clean clothes and what toiletries she needed. ‘There’s no rush. Just when you can. And take that young man of yours with you. I still worry about what’s going on out there.’