The Secrets that Lie Within (Taylor's Bend, #1)

by Elisabeth Rose

  Was someone in there, watching? Waiting for her to come in? The hair prickled on her neck. The bubble of apprehension burst into an overwhelming fear and she sprinted for her car, heart thudding, fumbling in her bag for the keys.

  She backed out and spun the car in a swirl of dust before hurtling down the track. Just before she crested the rise that would block the house from sight, she looked in the rear-view mirror; but through the murky cloud of dust the silver car remained alone and abandoned, her home still and silent.

  She slowed to make the turn onto the road, swallowing the panic as her heart rate subsided to something more normal. No-one was following. The silver car hadn’t moved, no-one had come out of the house and they must have heard her arrive and leave if they’d been inside.

  Was she being a complete panic artist? A crazy little laugh burbled up at the unintentional pun. Where was she going, anyway? The Benson’s house was the other way, to the right out her gate. Rita’s track was this way but she’d never go there for help. She was heading towards the main road and town. The spot where the car had been parked earlier shot by. Another kilometre and she’d be in mobile range. Should she call Rupe? Yes, but this wasn’t a triple-O emergency and she had no idea what his number would be. He said he’d come out and she’d said give her an hour.

  She looked at the dashboard clock. That hour had just ticked over. If she went all the way to town she might miss him if he’d gone somewhere else first. If she drove really slowly to the intersection with the main road they should meet. Then, if he hadn’t come along she’d wait at that corner until he turned up.

  This brilliant plan would also give her an escape route if the silver car did appear. She’d see it coming before it got to the intersection and she could hightail it into town.

  The central locking gave a reassuringly solid click when she pressed the button.

  ***

  Rupe finished his walk down the main street before strolling back the to the station house via Hannah’s Tasty Bites Cafe for a cold drink and a chat. The exchange with Abbie lingered in his mind. There was something otherworldly—no, that wasn’t right, something serene and detached about her even when she was engaging in a friendly conversation. Probably thinking about her art all the time. Observing. That unusual copper-coloured hair was very striking. Natural?

  He admired the mass of buds on the roses that lined the path to the door of the station house and made a mental note to pull a few weeds from the bed along the front next time he donned the gardening gloves. Caring for the small garden at the front of the old redbrick building was an enjoyable part of living on the premises.

  The police station occupied the front two rooms and the officer’s quarters, suitable for a family, were at the rear. The back garden had space for vegetables and a couple of neglected fruit trees. The last incumbent wasn’t a gardener and in his off time headed as fast as he could for the big smoke of Wagga where he cultivated a girlfriend instead, according to local gossip.

  Inside, seated at his desk, Rupe did a search for stolen vehicles. Not that there was any evidence that it was stolen. Abby hadn’t mentioned the make, the plates or whether it came from interstate, but he did Australia-wide and came up with quite a few possibilities. Silver was a common colour in sedans. When he’d had a look at the vehicle he’d narrow it down. Chances were high the car would have gone by now. Probably someone stopped for a piss. They could even have been asleep on the back seat. Still, he’d drive out and have a look.

  Abbie was an intriguing woman, friendly, but he had the sense she was holding something back, not sharing all she could. People would be saying the same about him, he knew. When word got round she was an artist, he’d done some online research and found an article and photo of her with the painting she’d won a prize for in an Australian landscape competition. Bloody good it was too. Somehow she’d managed to capture the essence of the trees and the light. A bit like those Heidelberg School artists but she had her own style.

  Benita had dragged him along to galleries when they first met but it hadn’t taken long for him to be as interested as she was. Benita … she’d like Abbie, like that there was someone in this town who knew about art on a deeper level than the norm.

  No good thinking about her. Rupe shut the computer down and thrust the chair back. He’d worked hard to blot out the memories and the pain and he wasn’t going to let it all seep back in. Concentrate on now. He could head out to Abbie’s and stop off at Gustafson’s on the way to collect that old shotgun Nils wanted to surrender.

  ‘Don’t want any of the grandchildren blasting someone’s head off,’ he’d said when he stopped Rupe in the street to ask what to do with it. ‘Not worth selling.’ If only other people were as fastidious about turning in their unwanted firearms and cartridges.

  Rupe didn’t hurry on the drive and Nils was always ready for a chat, so it was close to an hour and a half after he’d seen Abbie when the sign to Benson’s Vineyard appeared and he slowed for the turn off the main road. Wasn’t that Abbie’s car? What was she doing parked there? Broken down?

  He pulled up beside her, but before he could open his door she burst out of the Toyota as if she’d been held in there by a springloaded catapult. She was smiling but it was forced and when she spoke her voice shook. Gone was that habitual air of calm detachment he associated with her.

  ‘Thank god. I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show.’

  This wasn’t the woman who’d gently teased him about his workload and casually invited him for a cuppa.

  ‘What is it?’ He stepped forward and placed a steadying hand on her arm. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine. I’m just … it’s stupid. You’ll laugh and think I’m mad when I tell you …’

  Her eyes were dark blue; he’d never noticed before. ‘Just tell me, Abbie.’ He smiled and it seemed to calm her because she took a deep breath.

  ‘That car I told you about?’ He nodded. ‘When I came home it wasn’t where it was parked earlier, it was in front of my house.’

  ‘Who was it? Someone you know?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’d closed the front door when I left, not locked but definitely shut, and now it’s open. It made me scared. Too scared to go inside. I had the feeling someone was watching me. I ran for the car and here I am. Waiting for you.’

  ‘Okay. So as far as you know it’s still there.’ Why would she be so scared? Abbie didn’t strike him as a woman prone to panic. Physically she looked fragile, like one of those models who needed a good feed, but that was deceptive. She’d chosen to live alone on a fairly isolated piece of land and seemed happy with her choice; that took a certain amount of independence and strength. Even courage, although the area was far safer than the city when it came to crime.

  ‘Yes, it hasn’t come out this way. I don’t know where the road ends up.’

  ‘In the hills somewhere. I don’t think it joins another road and there’s certainly no-one living out there except the Bensons. You follow me in. Or would you rather come in the patrol car?’

  ‘I’ll follow you. I’m feeling stupid now. Is it the prowler?’

  ‘Doubt it. Don’t feel stupid.’ She turned to get into her car but he asked, ‘Abbie, is there someone you think it might be? Someone you don’t want to see?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’

  Abbie drove behind the patrol car, leaving enough of a gap so as not to be blinded by dust. She’d never seen Rupe in police mode before but as she told him what had happened, his manner altered subtly. He didn’t laugh or scoff, she hadn’t really expected him to, but he radiated calm authority in a way that made her trust him implicitly. The touch of his fingers on her arm had instantly steadied her and brought her back to a semblance of her normal self. Or at least the self she’d become since she settled in Taylor’s Bend. She didn’t know what her real self was anymore.

  Rupe slowed for the turn into her driveway. Rough after win
ter. Tim Benson said she needed to get a grader out here and a load of gravel to fill the potholes. How much would that cost? The track was wide enough for one car with a ridge of grass between two tyre tracks. It wound between tall gums, went down a slight dip then up and over a rise to emerge from the trees twenty metres from the house.

  The silver car had gone.

  Rupe parked. Abbie pulled into the garage and went to join him, dreading what he would say or worse still, be thinking.

  ‘It’s gone,’ she said. How stupid was that comment?

  ‘Where was it parked?’ His expression hadn’t altered. Hands on hips he stared around, taking in the driveway, the wide cleared area, the house, overgrown garden with its leggy roses and shrubs bursting with spring growth, the sheds and the surrounding trees.

  ‘Just in front of where your car is.’

  Rupe walked across and squatted down, studying the dusty ground and the scrubby grass. ‘Do you ever park here?’

  ‘No, and no-one’s visited for a while.’

  He stood up. ‘I’ll have a look around. You go in and put the kettle on.’ He flashed her a smile which faded as quickly as it appeared.

  ‘Rupe, do you believe me?’

  ‘Yes.’ He held her gaze for a moment. ‘Of course, I do.’

  Abbie nodded and, conscious of fast-reddening cheeks, turned towards the house, senses overloaded by a pair of cool, assessing, brown eyes.

  Good god. She’d totally forgotten her shopping, dumped on the bottom step when she ran. She’d better get that milk into the fridge. But where … She had left it behind, hadn’t she? The bottom step was bare. No green grocery bags, no cream cotton library bag.

  ‘My shopping.’

  Rupe, halfway across to her garage, stopped. ‘What?’

  ‘My shopping’s gone. I left it on the bottom step and now it’s not there.’

  In an instant he was heading for the steps. ‘Stay by my car,’ he said tersely as he passed her.

  By the time Abbie retreated the few paces to the cruiser, he’d disappeared inside. With her eyes fixed on the open front door, she didn’t realise she’d been holding her breath until he came around the side of the house brushing aside the lilac bushes, which were just beginning to flower in a scented profusion of purple and white. The exhalation left her leaning against the car, sucking in air, weak with relief.

  ‘There’s no sign of anyone,’ he said. ‘Come in and see if anything’s missing.’

  Abbie licked dry lips. ‘I’m not sure …’

  ‘It looks fine to me,’ he said. ‘Come on.’ He took her arm and led her into the house.

  He was right. Nothing had been touched in the living room that she could see. Not that there was much in there; just a couch and a couple of arm chairs, two bookshelves crammed with novels and art-related books, and a coffee table. She hardly ever used it.

  Across the hall in her bedroom a quick look showed nothing had been disturbed, and the same went for the two spare bedrooms, the bathroom and the smaller room she used as an office. At the back of the house lay the kitchen and the adjoining large, light-filled room she painted in.

  ‘Rupe, I’m feeling like the world’s biggest idiot,’ she said as they went down the hallway to the kitchen. ‘Perhaps the person knocked and went looking round the back of the house when I didn’t answer. And I turned up while they were out of sight.’

  ‘Why didn’t you see them leave while you were waiting for me?’

  ‘Maybe they went on to the Bensons. Maybe they wanted to go there and came here by mistake.’

  ‘Easy enough to check. I’ll give them a call.’

  ‘The phone’s in the kitchen,’ she said. ‘Mobiles don’t work here. I’ll put the kettle on.’ On the kitchen bench, a big vase crammed with lilacs perfumed the air, exactly as she had left them.

  Her library books were stacked neatly on the kitchen table, and next to them lay the empty bag and the empty grocery bags, also neatly folded.

  Chapter 2

  Her heart pounded at her ribs like a caged animal and if it hadn’t been for the solid bulk of Rupe’s body blocking her retreat, she would have hurtled back down the passageway.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘He brought my shopping in … the books.’ Her voice quavered.

  ‘He?’ Rupe moved around her and pulled out a chair from the table, guided her into it. He filled the kettle and set it to boil while she gathered her tattered wits. Cupboards opened and closed until he found mugs and tea.

  She focused on what he was doing. ‘Shouldn’t you have gloves on?’

  ‘There’s no crime. Is there?’ He cocked his head her way for a moment then finished making the tea, pouring boiling water into the pot and putting on the red knitted cosy she’d bought at the primary school fete. ‘Milk?’

  She nodded and he looked in the fridge and took out the almost empty carton.

  ‘Is there a new one there?’ she asked, knowing but dreading the answer.

  ‘Yes. Do you want it instead?’

  ‘I bought that today. And cheese. And meat and vegetables.’

  He looked. ‘Vintage cheddar? Chicken pieces? Beef chunks?’

  ‘Yes.’ She swallowed the rising fear. ‘I bought Gingernuts too if you’d like some.’

  ‘I never say no to a Gingernut.’ He closed the fridge and ferried the teapot, the milk and the mugs of tea to the table. ‘So, whoever it was put your shopping away.’

  ‘Looks like it.’ Abbie got up and opened the pantry cupboard. The biscuits were there front and centre. Everything else she’d bought would be there too. Gritting her teeth, she took the packet out and arranged half a dozen biscuits on a plate.

  Rupe poured milk into his tea and dunked a Gingernut. ‘I chipped a tooth on one of these once and the dentist told me they should come with a health warning on the packet.’

  She knew he was chatting idly to calm her down and it was working. To a point.

  ‘I’ll call the Bensons,’ she said.

  ‘Finish your tea first.’ He sat back and looked across to her studio area. ‘I’d love to have a look at your work later, if that’s okay.’

  ‘Is that in your professional capacity?’

  He shook his head. ‘That’s me as an art lover. I’ve never met a proper artist before.’

  He looked so boyishly enthusiastic she had to smile. ‘I’m hardly a great example.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say that.’ Those brown eyes washed over her again, taking in every detail. ‘Judging by Laurie’s watercolour.’

  She gulped in a mouthful of tea. He switched his attention back to her studio where several canvases were propped along one wall. ‘It’s a great space.’

  ‘This room was the main reason I bought the house. It’s perfect for painting.’

  ‘Do you use oil paints?’

  ‘Yes, now I do. Sometimes I go back to watercolours.’

  ‘Laurie and Dot’s?’

  ‘Yes. Laurie said someone came in the other day and recognised it as my work. Do you think he might be the same person who came here?’

  ‘Could be. A fan?’

  ‘It’s not public knowledge that I live here.’

  ‘Word gets round, Abbie,’ he said gently. ‘Tell me why you were so frightened.’

  ‘I … I don’t know … I panicked, I guess.’

  ‘You don’t strike me as being the sort of woman who panics over nothing.’

  ‘This wasn’t nothing,’ she shot back. ‘What would you think if it happened to you?’

  ‘Like you said earlier, I’d assume someone had come to visit and I’d missed them. They put my groceries away for me because it’s a friendly thing to do. Country people do that kind of thing.’

  ‘I know, but this wasn’t a local. I didn’t recognise the car. It wasn’t the Bensons and Rita wouldn’t do something neighbourly like that. She only comes over to complain I’ve stolen something or to accuse me of knocking her fences down.’

  ‘So you panicked i
nstead of having a look round the back to see if they were looking for you.’ The ghost of a smile flitted across his mouth. ‘They could have been using the toilet. Caught short.’

  ‘Do you believe that?’ So what he was saying was he thought she was an idiot.

  ‘It’s possible, that’s all I’m saying.’ No, he wasn’t just saying that. ‘Did you see any other cars while you were waiting?’

  ‘Two. A white one went in and came back out about fifteen minutes later and the other one was a delivery truck.’ Abbie drained her tea and stood up. ‘I’ll call Tim Benson.’

  ‘I’ll have another Gingernut.’

  ‘Don’t crack a tooth,’ she ground out and he grinned.

  She picked up the receiver.

  ‘There hasn’t been a crime, Abbie, I’m sorry.’ The smile had gone.

  ‘An intruder came into my house and touched my things. Isn’t that a crime?’ Her hand was sweaty on the plastic of the phone.

  ‘The door was unlocked. Nothing has been stolen. Your shopping was put away. It’s sort of the reverse. A reverse theft.’

  She turned her back on him and dialled. Connie picked up.

  ‘Hi, it’s Abbie.’

  ‘Abbie, hello. How are you?’ The vestiges of her native Spain lingered in slightly rounded and stretched vowels.

  ‘Fine, thanks. Connie, have you seen a silver car on the road this morning?’

  ‘I’ve been inside baking, so no. I only went out to sign for a delivery. Hang on, I’ll ask Tim, he’s just come in.’ A muffled yell for Tim then she was back. ‘Why? Are you expecting visitors?’

  ‘No. It’s just that I saw a car parked near my driveway when I went into town this morning. I wondered who it was, that’s all.’

  ‘Someone lost, probably.’

  ‘Probably.

  ‘Here’s Tim. Talk later.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Another muffled conversation.

  ‘G’day, Abbie. A silver car? Yeah, there was one stopped along the road near the rise. I was on the tractor so I didn’t get a good look. I think it went on up into the bush and came back a bit later.’