Whispers At Wongan Creek

by Juanita Kees

  Her hands eased his jeans from his hips while his worked their way up her skirt to the elastic of her silk panties, touching each sensitive part of her skin as they went, driving her crazy until she wanted to cry from the pleasurable pain.

  Then he was pulling her towards him, nudging at her entrance. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her body alive with wanting him, her mind aware of his injuries and the need to be gentle. He lifted her up in his arms and she slid down on him, ready for the width and length of him, surprised as he filled her, loving the feel of him, slick and hot.

  ‘Don’t hold back, baby,’ Travis whispered. ‘A little pain will be worth the risk. You can kiss me better.’ He smiled against her mouth and Heather kissed him harder.

  Wincing a little, he backed away from the counter and sat on a chair, letting her straddle his lap. He thrust into her and she followed his rhythm, pouring her soul into it because if this was the only dance they ever had together, she’d damn well make it count.

  Climax came fast in a flurry of kisses and hands. Heather collapsed against Travis’ chest, his hand cupping her head, the other holding her close. Her heart pounded in time with his, the silence stretching between them as each caught their breath.

  Heather didn’t want to leave the comfort of his arms, not when everything about being there made it feel like the right place to be. She closed her eyes to listen to him gain control over his breathing, ride the wave of the rise and fall of his chest, and absorb the heat of his body under hers. She never wanted to leave this safe haven.

  Travis stroked her hair, twirled it around his fingers and gave it a little tug. ‘Still awake there, sweetheart?’

  She smiled into the curve of his neck, nipping the skin with her lips. ‘Barely.’

  ‘I think our tea might be cold.’

  ‘You think?’ Heather placed her hands on his chest and eased away from him.

  He cupped her face in his hands, a frown on his brow. ‘We good here?’

  Guilt edged its way into her mind as the euphoria slowly wore off and the impact of what they’d done came crashing down. Even so, she could not bring herself to regret what had happened between them.

  ‘We’re good. You’d best let me up now before Casey finds us like this.’

  He grinned. ‘Wanna shower?’

  The teasing light and promise in his eyes almost had her saying yes. ‘No. Well, yes, but I should be going home for that.’

  Travis sighed. ‘You can’t leave me alone until Doc Benson gives me the all clear.’

  He shifted her on his lap, slipping free from her sheath. Emptiness filled the space inside her and she wanted to call him back. How was it he made her feel whole again, like there was something to fight for if those DNA tests for the Motor Neurone gene proved positive, but still too much stood between them.

  She swung her leg back over his and stood up, his hands on her hips for balance. Was it wrong to want him again?

  He stood and zipped up his jeans. ‘How about I give you some fresh clothes and a towel, and you can take a nice leisurely shower on your own?’ The look on his face told her he’d much rather be in there with her. ‘You and Mum are about the same size. She left some jeans and shirts behind you could use.’

  Heather nodded. ‘That would be good, thanks.’

  He stroked a long finger down her cheek and looked deep into her eyes before pressing a slow, heated kiss to her lips. Then he grabbed her hand and tugged her down the hall towards the bathroom.

  ‘Fresh towels are in the cupboard next to the loo. I’ll leave the clothes outside for you.’ He gave her a little nudge to move, his lips pulled in a determined line. ‘If I don’t, I won’t be able to leave you again, Heather.’

  And because her heart pounded as she seriously considered what that would mean, she closed the door on him.

  ***

  Holy fucking bat shit. Travis raked a hand through his hair as he stared at the closed door. He’d screwed Heather in his kitchen. Guilt came crashing down, the weight of it on his shoulders making him lean back against the bathroom door.

  What the fuck was he thinking? Casey could have walked in on them, except he knew her sleeping habits well. Hell, Harry could have waltzed in and copped an eyeful. The only reason he had nothing to fear from the CWA ladies and the rest of the town stopping by at that awkward moment would be because those who weren’t asleep were otherwise engaged on their farms. Hooley Dooley.

  Not just that, but he’d put her in a position that made her job difficult, compromised her professional involvement by making it personal.

  He pushed away from the door and walked down the hall to his parents’ room where he rummaged around for clean clothes. It should never have happened, but God damn it, he couldn’t regret it. The timing sucked to be head over arse for a girl he couldn’t have—yet.

  On the way back, he checked in on Casey and found her sleeping soundly. Good. That meant he might be able to sneak in a shower too before anyone caught him reeking of sex and Heather—a combination he could easily grow used to.

  He dropped the clothes at the bathroom door and leaned his head against it, listening to the water running from the shower, thinking of Heather under the spray. And because that made him horny as hell again, he slapped a palm against the door frame and headed back to the kitchen. Screw the tea. This called for coffee. Strong shit.

  Chapter 13

  Dressed in her borrowed clothes, Heather listened to the sounds of Travis collecting his things for a shower and sipped the coffee he’d made her. The strength of the brew would put hair on her teeth, but at least it provided the wake-up call she needed. Caffeine swept through her bloodstream. She might not sleep for a week now.

  She heard the slam of the bathroom door and the rattle of the pipes as the water pressure built. Every nerve ending in her body could relate as she felt her own blood pressure rise at the thought of Travis naked under the spray.

  To keep her hands busy, she unpacked the dishes from the dishwasher, dried them and searched for the places they belonged. As she put the last glass on the shelf in the cupboard, her mobile phone rang.

  Frowning, she looked at the number and answered the call.

  ‘What the hell is going on in that town?’

  Heather winced as her boss’ voice boomed down the line. Elliott Crawford was a straight-shooter who only saw the black and white of the law, never the grey.

  ‘I’m sorry, Elliott. What do you mean?’

  ‘Have you checked your emails yet?’

  ‘Well no, not yet. Why?’ Heather placed the mug on the table, unease seeping through her.

  ‘A man named Zac Bannister has come forward. He’s claiming to be Casey Bailey’s father.’ Ice edged Elliott’s tone. ‘Did you know about this?’

  Dread and regret that she hadn’t written that damned report yet mixed like concrete in her stomach. ‘There is speculation that might be the case but nothing to prove it. He’s never come forward before.’

  ‘And you didn’t think to mention it?’ he yelled. ‘Jesus Christ, Heather! Do you understand what this means for the department?’

  Paperwork, lots of paperwork. ‘I was working on a report, but there was an incident—’

  Elliott cut her off. ‘Yes, I’ve been informed about the incident too. Bannister has filed a complaint of misconduct by a guardian.’

  Heather snorted. ‘How hypocritical of him when he started the damn fight. Elliott, please listen to me. There is more to this story.’

  ‘Well it would be bloody nice of you to tell it to me. I have the director’s office breathing down my neck because he cc’d them in on the email. You’d better have a damn good report written up for me with all the details when I get there tomorrow,’ he barked.

  ‘I will.’ Her hand trembled on the phone. Oh God, how had this spiralled so quickly?

  ‘And, Heather?’ His voice was deathly quiet with control.

  She shivered. Sweet Mother Mary. What else could go wrong? ‘Y
es?’

  ‘Bannister has laid a complaint against you too. For harassment.’

  ‘You can’t be serious!’ Nausea grew in her stomach. ‘He’s dreaming. I’m the one who should be filing the complaint against him!’

  ‘And that means even more paperwork,’ said Elliott, not sounding amused by the thought at all. ‘He’s laid a complaint against both you and Travis Bailey. Apparently the two of you are playing happy families. He claims you stayed overnight with Bailey.’

  Anger roared through her. ‘Well of course I did. Travis took a blow to the head, delivered by Bannister. The doctor was worried he might have concussion. Would you have preferred I left a little girl alone with a man with a head injury so she could wake up in the morning to find him unconscious or in a coma or worse … dead?’

  ‘Write it in the report, Miss Penney. Until then, you’re suspended from this case due to conflict of interest. I’ll be taking over. I have Bailey’s address on file, so I’ll stop in there as soon as I hit town.’

  Heather didn’t think her stomach could sink any further. Elliott had not an ounce of compassion. He dealt in policies and procedures with little or no regard for heart.

  ‘Elliott, please don’t take me off the case until you’ve read my report. Please.’ Close to tears, she wasn’t ashamed to beg.

  Her boss’ tone softened. ‘Heather, we’ve had enough bad press in the department over the Ferris scandal. If you’ve compromised the case by becoming personally involved with Casey’s guardian, I have no other recourse but to remove you.’

  ‘You can hardly compare this case to two shady politicians using foster kids in an election promise to drum up votes.’

  ‘Bad press is bad press. And the Bannisters appear to have powerful people in their pockets—television stations, newspapers, politicians, you name it. I’m under strict orders from the Director General himself to take over the case. God knows what strings they pulled to get that one right.’

  ‘Zac Bannister is a bully. There are circumstances in this case that are not yet public,’ Heather urged. Panic seared through her. If Travis didn’t get the chance to prove Zac Bannister murdered his sister before they won custody, Casey’s life could be in danger.

  ‘Then why don’t I know about it? Why didn’t the last social worker in the area report special circumstances?’

  ‘Elliott, we need to talk about this face-to-face. I’ve only just been made aware of the information. Yesterday’s confrontation was a small show of what Bannister is capable of. He’s a dangerous man.’

  She heard the water pipes shudder as Travis turned the water off in the shower. She’d have to talk to him about Tracy’s alleged murder, raise his pain again.

  ‘All you need to do is talk to the people in this town and you’ll know he’s not a popular man, not the kind of man you want to leave a little girl with.’

  ‘I need more than hearsay, Heather. I need proof. Your report. On my desk. Tomorrow. I’ll arrive there around mid-afternoon. Have it ready.’

  He hung up, leaving her holding the mobile in her hand and praying that Elliott Crawford couldn’t be as easily bought as the Director General.

  ‘Everything okay?’ Travis’ voice reached her from the doorway.

  Heather flexed her shoulders, trying to release the knots. She shook her head. ‘That was my boss. The Bannisters have made a claim for Casey.’

  ‘Fuck. My time just ran out. Jesus, Heather, I can’t let that mean bastard take Casey. God knows what he’ll do to her.’

  The fear in his voice echoed in her mind. Heather heard his footsteps cross the kitchen to where she stood looking out the kitchen window. The farm looked so peaceful this morning with the layer of early morning mist hanging over the creek. If only the water could talk. If only the hills the town got its name from could whisper the secrets they held.

  Travis’ hands came to rest on her shoulders and she leaned back against him. Nothing mattered anymore except for Casey and the fight to keep her with Travis.

  ‘We have to find a way to prove he killed her. Did your sister keep a diary? Photos on her computer? Emails to her friends? Anything where she may have written what happened at the party that night?’ Heather turned to face him.

  ‘Tracy wasn’t the girlie type.’ Travis sighed and moved away to pour a coffee from the pot. ‘She wasn’t into snapping selfies or chatting on social media. Her friends were happier talking horses than about dresses.’

  ‘Would she have talked to her friends about what happened that night?’

  ‘After the night of the party, she spoke to no one. Her friends called around but she refused to see them, and eventually they gave up and moved on. She wouldn’t even talk to me about it, but I knew deep down what had happened. My gut was never wrong when it came to Tracy.’

  ‘What happened to her clothes from that night?’ Heather took the fresh mug of coffee he held out to her.

  Travis shrugged. ‘The dress was ripped. I guess Mum would have thrown it out.’

  Heather sighed. ‘Any evidence we’d find on her clothing would only point to the fact that she’d had sex and nothing much else. The DNA would just prove the Bannisters right. So there were no witnesses who’d be prepared to come forward?’

  Travis shook his head. ‘Tracy’s friends admitted to taking drugs that night. They were out of it and don’t remember anything. They don’t even remember seeing Tracy at the party.’

  ‘Then we have to find a way to prove he murdered her down by the creek that day. You said you found things that pointed to a struggle?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What happened to those items?’

  ‘I handed them in to Sergeant Riggs. He said he’d put them into the evidence box. There was never a chance they’d reopen the case back then. The senior detective on the case had it all sown up pretty quickly as an accident.’

  ‘Would Riggs reopen the case?’

  Travis shrugged. ‘If there was enough reason to, I guess. There’d have to be fresh evidence or, God forbid, another death of a similar nature for that to happen. All we have is speculation.’

  Heather turned back to the window as Marge Everett’s bus rattled down the drive, kicking up dust in its wake. She frowned as Travis leaned over her shoulder to see.

  ‘That’s odd,’ he said. ‘Marge is never out this way this early in the morning.’

  Heather grinned. ‘Maybe she stayed the night at Harry’s.’

  Travis chuckled. ‘Harry might have got lucky. I wonder if he’ll remember.’

  Marge got out of the bus and bustled up to the veranda, looking flustered. ‘Travis! Travis!’ she called urgently.

  ‘This doesn’t sound good,’ he muttered, reaching for the door that led onto the front veranda and opening it.

  Heather followed his long strides, almost jogging to keep up. They met Marge at the front door, her hand poised to knock.

  ‘Oh thank God, there you are!’ Her breath came in short gasps as she held a hand over her heart.

  ‘Are you okay, Mrs Everett?’ Travis put a hand on the elderly lady’s shoulder.

  ‘I’m fine … but it’s Harry, love. He’s missing.’

  Chapter 14

  Travis’ heart plummeted. He felt Heather’s hand close around his forearm and took comfort from it. ‘What do you mean he’s missing?’

  ‘Well, I stayed the night, you see.’ Her fine-boned hand fluttered to her head, her age apparent in the thickened blue veins and thin skin. ‘Oh no, no, you cheeky boy! It’s nothing like that,’ she said when Travis’ eyebrow shot up. ‘Harry said to stay in the spare room because it would be too dark for me to drive back after all that palaver yesterday. So I stayed and we had a nice dinner, which I cooked, of course.’

  Travis tried hard not to interrupt and tell her to get to the point. His mind raced ahead, thinking of places Harry might have gone, but the truth was these days Harry seldom got past his front yard before he forgot where he was heading.

  ‘Then when
I got up this morning, I knocked on his door to see if he wanted a cuppa. After a few knocks, I pushed open the door and his bed was all neat and tidy like he hadn’t slept in it. And Robbie is missing too.’

  ‘Have you checked the yard and his shed? Have you heard Robbie barking somewhere?’

  The shed was the most likely place to find Harry these days. He pottered around in there with his orchids or did a little woodwork.

  ‘No, I haven’t seen or heard Robbie since last night when Harry let him out to pee. I checked the shed and all the way down to the paddock in case he’d gone down to check on the sheep again. I’ve searched everywhere, Travis.’ Marge teared up, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief.

  Travis patted her shoulder. ‘It’s okay, Mrs Everett. I’ll saddle up Fantasia and take a ride out. I’m sure he’s just gone out for a walk.’

  He hoped he sounded reassuring because he definitely didn’t feel reassured himself. Anything could have happened to the old man. The brown snakes were rife this summer and a bite from one of them could kill the strongest man in a matter of minutes. Harry wouldn’t stand a chance.

  ‘Heather, can you wake Casey and get her dressed? Mrs Everett, could you please go back to Harry’s and wait there in case he comes back? Call me on my mobile if he does, okay?’

  Travis retrieved his work boots from the shoe shelf outside the front door, pushed his feet into them and laced them up.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Mrs Everett. ‘I’ll call the ladies at the CWA and warn them in case we have to send out the State Emergency Services to look for him.’

  ‘Great idea, but let me have a quick look for him first, okay?’

  The dread in his gut grew. Even with Alzheimer’s Harry knew to always tell Travis if he was heading out anywhere. It was the unwritten code of their friendship and a necessity born out of habit for any man farming alone. He lifted his hat from the peg and pushed it onto his head.

  ‘Heather, can you bring me the first aid kit in the kitchen under the sink and a couple of bottles of water from the fridge, please?’