by Amber Bardan
“We missed nothing. My sources confirm Angelina’s case is closed. Goodman is doing this on her own time.”
My blood stills and I lean in to the screen. “Do you think she’s on someone else’s payroll?”
“I’ve investigated Goodman thoroughly,” Avner says, his picture dimming for a moment. “No reason to believe that.”
I glance behind me to Emilio. “I want a tracker on Goodman’s car.”
Emilio nods. It’s as good as done.
“What about the other vehicle we’ve picked up on, that feds too?”
Avner shakes his head. “The plates identify the other vehicle as local paparazzi. He’ll give up soon enough, just like everyone else, when he realizes interest in her story is no longer bankable.”
“In the meantime, let’s get eyes on that vehicle as well,” I say, and glance behind me at Emilio already preparing his things. “I won’t take any chances, not with her.”
Emilio collects his bag of tricks, pulls a black cap low on his forehead, and leaves the apartment. Avner and I spare another few minutes discussing our other precautions, including the security of the manufacturing process I’ve been overseeing remotely. We finish, and I thank him once more then close the laptop.
Soon enough, I’ll make it up to Avner in riches. The one thing I’m yet to figure out is how the hell I’ll ever make it up to her.
“Can I trust you to stay inside this apartment while I attend the meeting?” Karim asks.
He’s had to attend the few covert distribution meetings that have become unavoidable.
I lean back in the chair.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say. Although I’ll do what the fuck I like. Karim knows this. Maybe that’s why his sigh fills the room.
The door handle squeaks. “What should I bring back to eat?”
“Something light, I intend to train tonight.”
“Haithem,” Karim says, from the door. “We trained this morning for two hours.”
My head snaps in his direction. “If you’re not up to it, send Emilio.”
“I’ll always be up to it.” Karim bows his head, then leaves me alone.
I watch the door for a moment. I should be kinder to him. We’ve never been about kindness, always about respect. And I’ve struggled with both since he relayed his conversation with Angelina. Not sure who I’m more furious with, him for telling me how she’s still hurting, or myself for making things this way.
I stand and go back to the window, and watch her apartment. I tell myself she’s safe. I should leave. I shouldn’t be here. But I’ve never been too smart when it comes to her.
What would she do if I went there now?
Cry, scream at me? Tell me she hates me?
I could. I could sneak into her apartment without risking being seen. Go in at night when no one would notice. Maybe I’d just watch her sleep for a while. See if she’s still crying in her dreams.
Perhaps she’d wake up.
Perhaps she’d be overjoyed to see me. Then I’d lick the tears from her cheeks and lose myself inside her sweet flesh and to hell with the consequences—
I slam my fist against the window and shut my eyes. I won’t do any of that. Never would have outside of my head.
There’s only one choice I have and that’s to keep her safe. No matter how it hurts.
Chapter Twenty-Three
June
It’s a good fifteen-minute walk to Pleasant Views from my apartment. Far enough to ensure the need to wear sensible shoes, yet not quite far enough to justify driving. Particularly considering staff are required to use street parking and well, I’m more than a little precious with the Mustang. So I walk and when it rains I just take the tram.
The walk itself takes me right through Melbourne’s multicultural center, tempting me along the way with everything from freshly brewed Italian coffee, the sweet scents of donuts and custard filled pastries from the continental bakeries, and the sharp spice of Middle Eastern takeaway.
I pass through a local fruit shop.
“Hey, Angelina, I have something good for you today.”
I keep walking but slow and squint at the young fruiter. “Oh yeah? What’s that, Lorenzo?”
His words are punctuated so each syllable has emphasis. The fruit here is good. Very fresh. Just like Lorenzo. He’s fresh from Italy. Has a voice that’s rounded and smooth, and he says my name like maybe he really does have something on special for me.
I don’t mind walking with a little extra jiggle when I pass through his store. He’s young and cute, and talks to me because maybe he thinks I’m the same.
“Strawberries,” he says, and I pause. He pops open a punnet. The smell hits me and it’s summer all over again in winter. “Saved the big juicy one for you.”
I laugh, can’t help it, but bite back my reply. I’m sure he’d like to save me a big one. “Thanks, but I’m on my way to work.” I start walking again. “Maybe tonight, keep them for me?”
“Si. Ciao, Bella,” he calls after me.
I glance over my shoulder, smile again. It’s getting easier to smile at men. There’s still only one I see every time I close my eyes, but being normal, flirting, that part gets easier. Emma would be proud. I’ll tell her how I flirted on our phone call tonight.
A few stores down past Lorenzo’s, someone ducks into an alcove.
I stare down the street. My fingers tighten around the strap of my handbag. I’m getting real bloody sick of this. If I’m driving then that damn white car, or another silver one, are constantly harassing the edges of my peripheral like a fly I can’t swat away—always just buzzing there, unwelcome and completely freaking persistent.
I pick up my pace and continue down the block toward work. The high-density shopping strip thins, commercial buildings bleeding out into residential in a patchwork of something in-between. Pretty old terrace houses in amongst low-rise apartment complexes, car yards and takeaway shops.
I cross a narrow street. A bus pulls out from the side street, rolling into the corner. I pause, and glance behind me at the bus completely blocking my back from the main road. I dart behind the bus, then cross back over the street and press my back to the wall of the corner milk bar I just passed.
The bus turns onto the main road. I don’t have to wait long. The lithe suited figure of a woman reaches the corner, scans the street ahead as though she’s missed her bus. She has. The long scalp-clenching braid I’d know anywhere swings as she turns her head.
“Lost something, Sergeant Goodman?” I step out from the corner. My pulse takes a gentle jump in its rhythm. There could be worse people following me.
A lot worse.
She turns, her chin notching as her gaze settles on me. “Hello, Angelina.”
“Why are you following me?”
Her eyes shift as people pass by.
Yeah, I’m going to do this right here.
“Why are you hiding behind walls?” She touches first her index finger, then her middle finger to her thumb.
“Because someone keeps following me, and it’s making me uncomfortable.” I watch the fingers tap, tap tapping at her side.
“Just doing my job. Exercising diligence.”
“Are you just doing your job?” I step a little closer. Tilt my head, and study Sergeant Goodman.
Diligence...
No one wasted a moment on diligence. The day I arrived home, the very instant my feet touched Australian soil, neither the police commissioner nor the premier spared a breath before addressing the media. Assuring the nation that the highly publicized crisis has been resolved. That the Australian government had me home safe, that the bad guy got caught, that everyone did their job to perfection.
The wheels in the political cog all turned smoothly, see how
competent we all are...
“You shouldn’t be following me at all, should you?”
That sharp chin of hers tilts another fraction towards the sky. “I have the authority to investigate as I see fit.”
Maybe she does, I wouldn’t know. I suspect some investigations would be seriously frowned upon. My suspicions solidify with every tiny twitch. Sergeant Hannah Goodman is nervous. I’m making her nervous. She’s doing something she shouldn’t be. Six months ago I’d never have been able to tell. But I learned to decipher Haithem, now I can decipher anyone.
“Do you make a habit of harassing victims, Sergeant?”
Lines form around her eyes. “Are you a victim, Angelina?”
Not any more that’s for freaking sure.
My teeth press together and I take another step until there’s no more than two feet between us. “You know, I’ve been trying to decide on which current affairs program I’d feel most comfortable sharing my story with.” I look her in the eye. She’s taller than me but not by enough that I’m going to be tilting my head back to her. “I wonder what the public will think when they find out the way I’m been stalked after everything I’ve been through?”
I level my threat at her, and it is a threat. She knows this game—she played it with me. Now I’ve had time to process, I know how to pass back the poison ball.
She says nothing, but reacts silently. In that pause, that long slow beat, the truth passes cleanly between us. Every one of her hunches are confirmed, her suspicions verified—she’s vindicated. I see it in the way her lips open, and her eyes flash then dull in realization.
She’s defeated.
I’ve given her nothing she can use, but everything she needs to know. That I’m the girl who will do whatever it takes to guard my secrets. In this game knowing is not the same as proving and she can prove nothing. She’s lost the battle but she keeps one trophy. I let her have that much, she’s a good cop, as long as she stops bothering me. I hope next time she holds on to those fine instincts and uses them on someone far worse than me.
“I apologize.” She says the word through thin lips. I’m sure it’s not something she says routinely, but she says it to me. “I did not intend for you to feel harassed.”
“Thank you.” I smile. “In that case, I’m counting on not seeing you again—ever?”
“You won’t.” The bitter set of her jaw tells me it’s true.
“Bye then, I have to get to work.” I don’t wave, just walk past her until she’s behind me. This is the last time I’ll have to worry about her.
I swipe my tag and punch the security code into the side entrance of the old double-story Victorian mansion that monopolizes the corner and most of the block. For a place called Pleasant Views, there not so much in the way of actual views, and I wouldn’t exactly call the towing commission flats opposite pleasant to look at. The home itself though, is as lovely as this kind of place can get. I push open the side door and sneak down the hallway towards my office.
A floorboard creaks.
Dammit.
A graying blond head pops out of the staff room doorway in front of me. “Just anytime you feel like it, Angelina.”
“Sorry.” I screw up my nose and continue past Selina. “I’ll stay back ten minutes this afternoon, I promise.”
She snorts and her body emerges out the door after her head. “Don’t be stupid, you stay late almost every day anyway.” Selina pats her sleek bob with a hand, and walks with me. “Now I need you to come to my office and save me from the Excel demon.”
I glance at her. “Did you play with the formula again?”
We round the corner and go through the doors towards the front of the building.
“No, I told you, something evil sneaks into my office every night and tampers with my spreadsheets.”
I set my bag under my desk in the tiny office just outside Selina’s.
“I could lock the important cells if you’d let me,” I say, following my boss into her office.
She sinks into her chair, smoothing the burgundy suit skirt that exactly matches her lipstick over her ample rump. “Yeah, but then I can’t fiddle with them.”
I laugh, and lean across her desk, click on a few cells until I see which thing she messed with that made every other cell scream invalid in capital lettering. The spreadsheet returns to normal with the punch of a key.
Selina sighs. “Don’t know what we did before you.”
“I’m guessing the IT guy was extremely cute, and that’s how you formed these habits.”
“Not as cute as the maintenance guy.” She looks up and grins. There’s lipstick on her teeth.
God I love my boss.
“Which reminds me, can you be a doll and call him? I need these shelves adjusted.” She waves her hand at the shelves holding up the endless folders of Aged Care policies, audits and documentation.
“Just the shelving adjusted?” I say, raising one brow.
“Oh, get to work you.” She waves her hand at me but gives me another flash of her lipstick-smeared grin.
“Yes, boss.” I rub a finger over my two front teeth.
She plucks the mirror out of her handbag. “Hang on before you go.”
“Yeah?”
She glances in the mirror. “You’re getting a pay raise.”
“Really?” I mean I need it, but the one thing I’ve learned about this industry is that no one does it for the money.
She cleans the lipstick off her teeth, then glances up. “We all are. Food budget’s gone up too. Instructions come from the top.”
“That’s awesome. How’d you manage that?”
Selina may occasionally commit makeup faux pas, but the truth is when it comes to protecting this place she’s the baddest boss bitch I’ve ever encountered.
“Can you keep a secret?”
“Of course.” I lean in. I’m the secret fortress.
“New ownership is turning the place non-profit. Everything goes back into the place from now on.”
I try not to squeal. We both knew what that meant. We’d no longer have to tell staff to ration out the sanitary items, because the greedy board of directors cared more for lining owners’ pockets than the comfort of residents.
Also this opens up grant possibilities like never before.
“This is wonderful.”
“Isn’t it?” She grins. “I’m not supposed to say anything yet, so shh, okay?”
I make a zipper motion across my lips, then.
I return to my desk and have to groan at the stack of handwritten notes waiting on my keyboard to be typed into letters, official meeting minutes, and god knows what else. This facility operates in its own little technological bubble. We’re trapped in some kind of nineties time warp where everything is a little more laid back. Part of what makes this a great place to be every day. I’d volunteered at several homes before this one—the smell of disinfectant and undisguised institutional architecture ensured I never went back. I’ve spent enough time in hospitals, and that’s what they felt like. Pleasant Views, though, is almost like home.
That’s one thing I hope doesn’t change with the ownership. I get to work, making my way through the stack of paperwork until Selina forces me to take lunch. I take my break in the residents’ lounge at the chess table opposite Mr. Brand, who’s already waiting with the board set.
Truth is, he waits here most of the day. I make the first move, my white knight jumping across the board.
He moves next.
I stare at the squares. Time and repetition have improved my chess skills, made me more strategic. After half an hour of silent playing, I reach for my queen.
“No mercy for a poor old man?”
“Checkmate.” I smile at the wizened face opposite me. “As if you’d let
me go easy on you.”
He laughs and resets the board. “I’ll beat you tomorrow then.”
“I bet you will,” I say, my smile stretching.
Every lunch break I end up here, in the lounge playing chess with Mr. Brand. Usually he wins. Today, I got lucky. I’ll have to eat my sandwich at my desk, but totally worth it to keep my favorite resident on his toes.
The volume on the television jumps from background noise to a dull roar. I stand and walk towards the elderly woman standing in front of the flat screen.
“Mrs. Johnson,” I say, raising my voice above the blare, “that is far too loud.”
I reach her side, but other people are already approaching.
“—We interrupt our programming to bring you this special report.”
Jenny the head nurse, joins the group, taking the remote and adjusting the volume, then switching on the subtitles for those whose hearing requires them.
“What were last week simply rumors, have now been confirmed. The Federal Government has announced that a new energy source scheduled to hit the market in two weeks has indeed been approved for both domestic and commercial use.”
My scalp prickles. Everything dims, my entire being tuned in to that television.
“While little yet is known about this self-renewing battery-like device, we can reveal that it has met all the stringent Australian safety standards, and can be installed by any certified electrician.”
My breaths quicken, the air’s all going to my head but still I suck in more. Noise floods the lounge as residents provide their own commentary on the information. There are snorts, and declarations of disbelief. Yet I know the truth.
“If rumors about this device prove true, this product will revolutionize our approach to energy—”
I close my eyes. He did it, he really did. My lungs sting. I never knew my body could contain such joy and sorrow at once.
I’m so proud of you, Haithem...
It hurts so sweetly to breathe.
“—sure to have national, global, economic and environmental impacts—”