Safe Harbour

by Helene Young

  The door closed softly behind Rod and Stirling lurched to his feet, his wrist clutched to his chest. ‘The fucker, I’ll kill him,’ he vowed as alcohol rose in his throat. ‘Channie, Melie,’ he was almost sobbing as he fumbled with his phone. Chantelle answered immediately. He’d never been so glad to hear her voice.

  ‘Babe, where are you? Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine, Stirling, but you have some explaining to do when I get home.’

  ‘Thank god . . .’ The line went dead and he held the phone against his cheek. ‘I’ll kill him if he touches them.’

  16

  Darcy almost dropped the phone as she tried to answer it one-handed. ‘Noah, it’s okay. I’ve got him.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake, Darce, why didn’t you answer the phone?’

  ‘You mentioned a black car and there was one parked up the road from my house. Seemed a bit suss. Two men knocked on my door just as we were about ready to scarper. Who the hell are they?’

  ‘Jesus Christ, Darcy.’ He sounded furious. ‘Ask your mate. He must know who he’s being protected from. Listen, there’s been a major traffic accident and I have to respond. Where are you?’

  ‘On our way to Whale Song. I can hide the car and we can camp out in the caretaker’s cottage.’

  ‘No, Darce. Go to the Bundaberg police station. They may be short-staffed, but they’ll lock him in a cell and keep him safe.’ He sounded angry.

  ‘No can do.’ She glanced sideways at Tyrone.

  ‘Go to a damn motel then, rather than risk being holed up at Whale Song. The Justice Department will pay. Just get off the street.’

  ‘Noah, those guys claimed to be New South Wales police. They said you’d sent them.’

  ‘I didn’t send anyone around to your house, Darcy. The guys who are coming to collect him are flying up tomorrow. Did you get a description, a rego? Email it through.’ Darcy heard the police radio in the background.

  ‘Sorry, Darce. I have to go. Please get off the road and go to a motel. I want you somewhere safe.’

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Sounds like a truck moving some of the oversized mining gear has ripped open a petrol tanker. Multiple vehicles involved and the whole lot’s fireballed. I can see the glow ahead. I hate nights like this.’

  The tension in his voice tugged at her. How did he stay sane?

  ‘Sounds bad. You take care, Noah. I’ve got your man. Call me when you can.’

  ‘Darcy . . .’ There was a moment’s hesitation. ‘You take care too.’ He was gone and she tossed the phone onto the bench seat. It slid across the smooth vinyl to rest against Tyrone’s leg. Darcy swallowed and looked away, concentrated on driving. Reggie’s car was manual, an old three-on-the-tree gearshift that took some getting used to. The dashboard had a speedometer and an oil gauge.

  ‘What time is it?’ she asked.

  ‘Going on eight now.’

  ‘If I’m hungry, you must be starving after your big day. We can get some takeaway at the petrol station, but I’d rather not. I packed some bread and peanut butter, some cheese, a few apples.’

  He didn’t answer her question. ‘Darcy, thanks for your help, but I can’t stay with you. These guys don’t care about the law – they don’t respect life. I’ll take care of myself.’

  ‘Not a chance. Noah would kill me and he’s more scary than you or those guys.’ Her attempt at humour fell flat. Tyrone twisted in his seat, his expression forbidding.

  ‘Everyone in Banksia Cove is at risk while these guys are looking for me. Everyone, even your neighbour. They won’t stop until they find me.’

  ‘What the hell did you do?’ Darcy saw the tension in his jaw.

  ‘If I told you, then I would only add to the danger for you, so just believe me, I was trying to right a wrong and they thought they could force me to back down.’ He shook his head, his words drying up.

  ‘And you didn’t back down?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Should you have?’

  ‘It’s academic. The life of my wife and my daughter will not go to waste now. If I could change things, I would.’ His voice cracked and his hands shook as he turned her mobile phone over and over. She reached across and gripped them, wanting to give comfort, wanting to take away his hurt, to explain that she knew what it was like to lose someone you loved, be betrayed by someone you loved. But she held back, feeling his trembling subside as he stared out the window. This wasn’t about her. It didn’t stop her curiosity burning bright, but for now she let it drop.

  ‘Thanks.’ He disentangled his hands from hers and dropped the phone back on the seat. ‘So leave me at the petrol station and I’ll hitch a lift south. I’ll be in court in two weeks’ time and I’ll bring the bastards down.’

  ‘No. You can wait it out at Whale Song. The caretaker cottage has basic facilities.’ She glanced across the darkened car, unable to read his expression. ‘And don’t think of jumping out. There are worse places to be, and without money or ID, you’re stuck.’

  It was some time before he spoke again.

  ‘This is your restaurant?’

  She smiled. ‘It is. Mine. Whale Song.’

  ‘Nice name.’

  ‘I think so. Rosie came up with it. She was the one who first suggested the whole venture. She knew it would bring work to the community, and she also knows I’ll respect the land, the history of the place.’

  ‘You know her well?’

  ‘She was more a parent to me than either of my biological ones.’ She flicked the indicator to turn down a narrow road lined with trees. The road behind was inky and she felt confident no one would find them. ‘Rosie has a knack of bringing out the best in people.’ The car bumped over potholes.

  ‘Your mother, Beverley?’

  Darcy nodded.

  ‘She said you’d lost a friend in a boating accident when you were younger.’

  Darcy had to force her gaze to stay on the road as her hands tightened on the steering wheel.

  ‘She told you that?’

  ‘She’s very proud of you,’ he said as she shook her head. ‘I think she was explaining why she felt compelled to help me. Maybe she feels like she let you down.’

  ‘Bit late for that now. I’ve done fine without her or Stirling.’

  ‘Stirling is your dad, right?’

  ‘Yes. Stirling Fletcher, head coach of the Sydney Stallions.’

  ‘The Stirling Fletcher?’ He shook his head with disbelief.

  ‘A god to some, but it’s dross beneath the gold. He started his coaching career right here in Banksia Cove and then headed for the bright lights. He’s never been back.’

  ‘His wife, Chantelle? You know her too?’

  ‘Only because she’s the mother of my half-sister. Amelia’s a cute kid so I hope Stirling does the right thing this time.’

  ‘You know Rod Reeves?’

  She snorted. ‘That jerk. He was a thug when he lived here and I don’t think a hyena’s going to change its spots. He and Stirling used to train the local team together. At least my father knew how to motivate his boys without yelling.’

  ‘Reeves is big in construction now in Sydney. I’ve met him and Stirling a couple of times.’

  ‘Really?’ She was surprised. ‘He came to Duo once with his wife. Splashed out on the most expensive meals, bought the most expensive wines and over-tipped the staff. It takes more than that to impress me.’ She pulled up in front of a pair of iron gates; the chain and padlock looked strong enough to hold back a tank. ‘Won’t be sec.’

  She jumped out and undid the padlock then hurried back to the car, pushing the button in for parklights. She rolled through the gates and stopped again. ‘Better make it look like no one’s home,’ she said. She locked the gate again before driving to the buildings. It eased some of the tension in her body. She felt safe here.

  The car lights illuminated the restaurant with its whitewashed walls and its side entrance under the angled corrugated iron. Past the em
pty car park an expanse of grass led towards the old jetty, although only the white caps on the pylons were visible in the dark. A narrow road turned to the right and snaked behind a cluster of buildings. Darcy drove towards the smallest one, tucked almost out of sight.

  ‘Caretaker’s cottage,’ she said. ‘Probably better if we avoid using lights as much as possible.’

  ‘What, no candles to set the mood?’ he replied, but the humour didn’t work.

  ‘Camping Banksia Cove style.’ Embarrassment made Darcy brisk now as she parked the car between two buildings and gestured at the complex. ‘Many of the original structures had been pulled down, but the flensing deck and the storage sheds were left untouched. Great view to the inlet and out to the breakwater.’ She could see it in her mind. Summer days would be golden and bright. Autumn evenings would be balmy and soft. Winter nights would be cozy and warm with freestanding gas heaters. Spring would be breezy and light as the whales left the bay and headed south again for summer.

  ‘This way.’ She hefted her bags out of the car and walked to a narrow doorway, fumbling for the right key. The lock turned with a thud and she leant into the door to force it open in its swollen frame. She turned to speak and realised Tyrone was standing several metres away looking at the night sky. In the low light she could just make out the breeze lifting the hair on the nape of his neck. His shoulders were bowed as he gazed up to where the stars played hide and seek behind a thin layer of cloud. The depth of his sorrow was palpable and she felt again the urge to give comfort, to draw him close beside her and wrap her arms around him. Instead she waited until he looked down, turned towards her and spoke, his voice deep.

  ‘Life doesn’t always pan out the way we expect. Sometimes the thing we think we desire most in the world turns out to be an empty promise.’ For a moment she felt as though he’d seen into her heart, understood her desire, her own sense of aloneness, her deep loss. She didn’t reply, not trusting her voice to be steady, just led the way inside the dark building, using her phone as a torch. Behind her his footsteps were measured.

  ‘There’re a couple of camp beds, left over from when there was an actual caretaker. Not much, but they’re clean and at least you’ll be able to sleep.’

  ‘You think either of us will sleep tonight?’ He glanced back towards the door.

  ‘Maybe not.’ She shook her head. ‘But you can relax a bit. No one was following us.’ She found the light switch and flicked it on. The single bulb with its rusty metal shade cast a faint dome of light over the room. She pointed down a short corridor. ‘There’s a toilet through there. Standard issue from the 1960s. You have to pull the chain.’

  He almost managed a smile, but he was still very much on edge. ‘Did they catch many whales?’

  ‘According to Rosie they did okay until sixty-one. Not sure why, but the whales stopped coming after that. One theory is they’d fished them out by then. If Zeke’s right, maybe Rosie had something to do with it. Sang them a warning. Nothing would surprise me with her.’

  ’How much longer did they operate?’

  ‘They shut this one down in sixty-two and the one in Moreton Bay a couple of years later. I think they scuttled a couple of the old whale chasers out at Curtin Reef to encourage more marine life. Ironic really.’

  The tap over the cracked and stained handbasin was dripping. Darcy tried to tighten it. She drew a squiggle in the layer of dust on the green laminex table. Its spindly metal legs rocked on the uneven cement floor. The cold was already nibbling at her toes. Maybe this was a bad idea. She dropped her bags onto the mismatched chairs and rubbed her hands together.

  ‘No room service in this hotel.’ Tyrone said, and the warmth in his smile sent a surge of longing through her.

  ‘No minibar either.’ She met his eyes, unable to read the expression on his face. He still had the bag in his hand. ‘And don’t think about doing a runner from here,’ she added.

  He shook his head, clearly exasperated. ‘Darcy, you don’t understand the lengths to which these people will go.’ He dumped his bag on the table, anger clear in his face. ‘A gunman pulled up outside my daughter’s school and used two bullets, precisely placed, to murder my wife as she sat in her car, and my daughter as she opened the car door to greet her mother. No one saw anything, no one even realised what had happened until the lollipop lady on the crossing spotted my baby’s legs underneath the car. It was not a random drive-by – it was supposed to silence me. You think they’d hesitate to shoot you? Shoot Noah? Shoot Zeke?’

  ‘Surely they wouldn’t take out a policeman.’

  His snort was full of disbelief. ‘A policeman in the witness protection program sold my information to them. No doubt he had his own reason for doing it, debts, threats, whatever, but I’m not going anywhere near the police again until the morning of my court appearance. No one, not you, and certainly not Noah, is going to change my mind.’

  Darcy knew she was losing the argument. A renewed sense of urgency, the tingle of fear had her blood pumping. She’d relaxed too soon. ‘Okay, so we need a plan. Do you have a house in Sydney?’

  ‘No. I sold it when they put me in the program. It’s not glamorous, being protected, nothing like TV shows.’ He frowned. ‘You live in rented accommodation and spend your life looking over your shoulder wondering when they’ll find you. You can’t make friends or you might slip up, say the wrong thing, blow your cover. I can’t get a job because who knows when I’ll have to run next. It made me a victim too. Buying the boat and leaving the program gave me my life back.’

  ‘And now she’s gone too.’

  ‘Yes.’ He turned away. Darcy couldn’t miss the balled fists or the rigid shoulders. He’d already lost so much. She knew how it felt to have to rebuild from scratch. She knew the loneliness of being in a big city with no friends, no money and no way out. The difference was she’d chosen her path whereas he hadn’t seen it coming. Cause and effect, Stirling always liked to say. What goes around comes around was Rosie’s more pragmatic take on the world.

  ‘Conor. My name’s Conor Stein.’ His voice was low, the tone ragged as he turned to her. ‘I should have told you sooner.’

  Darcy stared at him, lost for words even as the name jagged a memory. She couldn’t quite grab it before the thought disappeared again, but she was sure she’d heard the name before. Annoyance flared then died. He’d been lying to her, yet perhaps she could understand why. Hadn’t she told lies when she ran away from Banksia Cove?

  ‘Conor. It suits you better than Tyrone.’ A tragic Irish king grieving for his queen – or was he a cheating accountant who cost his family their lives, Darcy wondered.

  The attraction she felt for him, even knowing he’d lied, was strong in the cold dim kitchen. It unnerved her and she turned away, rummaged through her pack and produced the fruit and biscuits. ‘Here. Have an apple.’

  For several long moments he looked at the bright red fruit before reaching out and taking it from her hand. ‘Thanks. You were fast on your feet.’

  Darcy shrugged. ‘Always be prepared – and we have to eat. Just sorry I didn’t grab the chargers for my phone or iPad. My battery won’t last more than twenty-four hours. At least this building’s at the back of the complex, but we’ll have to turn the light off soon.’ She bit into the sweet flesh of an apple and continued to pull food from her bag, hoping her voice didn’t betray how unsettled she felt. ‘Peanut butter sandwich or cheese?’

  ‘I’m right with this,’ he replied, only the core remaining. He was watching her, dark eyes focused on her face, his mouth softer, more relaxed. The intensity, the emotion she sensed below the surface made her breath hitch for a moment. She turned away, kept talking.

  ‘The water’s good, just no hot water. The mains supply’s still connected. There are a couple of cups in the cupboard, along with a kettle and some tea bags and instant coffee. No milk, though.’

  ‘What do you use this place for?’ He’d leant back against the bench, one long hand stretched ac
ross the scarred surface.

  ‘When we first started renovations it was a great spot to sit down with the tradesman, offer them a cuppa and a chat. The guys who’ve done the work are all locals with long memories and old-fashioned work ethics. The plumber and the sparky were both apprentices when this place was still operating. Makes a hell of a difference to the way they view the buildings. They should both be putting their feet up in retirement, but the successive years of flooding in the Burnett region means they can’t afford to.’ Talking seemed to take some of the heat from her cheeks, but she was still so aware of him filling the space.

  ‘So they would have been here in the eighties, then?’

  ‘Yep, of course. Why?’ She stopped eating, a tingle of alarm rippling down her spine. She’d moved to Banksia Cove in the eighties.

  ‘Just wondering if they played footy then as well.’

  ‘Why?’ Where was he heading with this? she wondered

  He lifted a shoulder. ‘Just curious really.’

  Her phone rang and she checked the screen. What the hell? ‘Stirling? Is everything all right? Beverley?’

  Her father’s voice sounded strained. ‘Beverley’s fine, but she’s worried about you. I said I’d fly up and check. I’ll be there in the morning.’

  ‘Huh? You haven’t been back in almost sixteen years!’

  ‘Well, it’s about time I visited then. The flights are booked; I’ll be there just after lunch.’

  ‘I’m working. You’ll have to catch a taxi. I’ll book you a room in the pub. It’s called The Cove these days.’

  ‘I’m not staying at the pub. I’m coming to see you.’ That sounded more like the Stirling she knew so well.

  ‘Well, that may be, but there’s no room at my place. Maybe Beverley will let you stay at hers?’ That would be a sight to see. She couldn’t ignore the twinge of suspicion. And she couldn’t believe her father was genuinely trying to reconnect with her. Too much water under the bridge, too much pain. She’d locked all that away and she wasn’t about to give him a key.