Officer Briscoe added, ‘We’re confident of finding them quickly, Mrs Beaumont, unless the weather turns bad.’ He turned to the other officer. ‘Constable Sutherland will be your liaison. You can reach him at any time on this number.’ He handed a card to Leith. ‘He will, in turn, advise you of the search’s progress as it takes place.’
‘Thank you, officers.’ Leith spoke for himself and the Beaumont women. He looked at Laura. Suddenly she looked very small and utterly crushed by this news. Caroline sat on the side of her mother’s chair, an arm around the older woman’s shoulders. Stoic was the best word to describe both of them. They were in shock, of course. Jesus. Michaela and Fern. Michaela was a good pilot, but the plane would have crashed — that was the reality the police had skirted around. Leith was smart enough to know that not too many people walked away from such crashes, especially in the bush. Realisation of the seriousness of things forced him to take a deep breath and try to push his own fear back where he could control it. Michaela, the woman he loved, she couldn’t be, no, he wasn’t going to allow himself to even think that word.
‘When can we expect to hear from you?’ he asked.
‘We’ll let you know as soon as the air search begins. A lot depends on the weather and, though we have the plane’s last position, the search area could be wide,’ Constable Sutherland advised. ‘We talked to Rod O’Malley at Bankstown Airport, he was Miss Beaumont’s instructor a few years back. He said she’s a very competent pilot, that she’d know to look for a flat area to land the plane. Mr O’Malley said they had practised pre-crash procedures during her course. Unfortunately, O’Malley advised that the Piper Cub didn’t carry an electronic emergency beacon that activates automatically after a plane crash.
‘Tomorrow,’ the constable continued, ‘local pilots will have to do it the old-fashioned way by instituting a grid search. That’s standard procedure according to the sergeant in charge of the Disaster Victim Identification Team. That’s the section that controls this type of search.’
‘Thanks for being honest with us,’ Leith answered for all of them. ‘I’ll see you out.’
After the police had left, Laura and Caroline looked at each other.
‘This is too much,’ Laura said, a clear tremble in her voice. Shaking her head, she tried to absorb the ramifications of what might have happened to Michaela and Fern. ‘I can’t bear it, not knowing. And … they’re so young. Not old like me. If it happened to me, well, I’ve had a life, but Fern and Michaela …’
‘We can’t allow ourselves to think that way, Mum. You know we can’t.’ Where Caroline got the strength of will to speak such words in a normal voice she would never know. Her baby, all her hopes … and dreams. What if she never saw her again? Stop! Don’t think that. One of them had to be strong, and with all that had happened to her mother during her life, so many trials, triumphs and disappointments, it was up to her, Caroline, to not collapse like a pack of cards, even if that’s what her nerves said she should do. It was going to be one hell of a night, and day.
Caroline waited until Leith returned. She looked at him. ‘You’ll stay?’
‘Of course. You know how I feel about Michaela, I think everyone knows.’
‘Good.’ Her smile was weak, shaky around the edges. ‘I think Mum could do with a stiff brandy, and I know I could. I’ll tell Jeffrey, then call Nick.’
All at once careers, music, Nick’s presumed inability to accept the changes in her life, counted for little. She needed him here so that they could face whatever tomorrow brought … together.
Neil McRae stared out the window at the blackness that was Sydney Harbour at night.
He studied the lights, which seemed to wink at him from the streets and buildings that fringed the foreshores. The corners of his mouth turned down bitterly as he realised how much he’d come to love this view, a view he would soon leave forever. His father had only just left; they’d talked for hours … got many grievances off their chests. Not that it mattered much any more. He was, as his father had said, finished here. Business-wise, no-one would touch or employ him once his fraud against Ashworths leaked out, as he was sure it would. Probably Markhams would see that it did, as an added incentive for him to move on.
He jiggled the ice cubes around in his whisky glass. On his fourth, the pain of failure, of disappointing his parents and himself, was beginning to dull. He’d lost everything that was important to him: success, money, respect and his family. Tonight the Beaumonts had stripped him of everything. Damn each and every one of them.
Frank had booked him on a flight to London on Tuesday morning, and had promised to bankroll him for a few months till he got settled. He sipped the whisky and laughed into the void of the glass. What kind of job would he get anywhere internationally without a worthwhile reference from Ashworths? Then his smile turned cunning. They — Coberg’s smartarse auditors — hadn’t found his secret Swiss bank account with a quarter of a million dollars in it. His ‘rainy day’ account. Well, it was a bloody downpour now! And, he wasn’t going to go to London, he decided as he stood there. He would change his flight destination, disappear for a while, until he got his head around what he was going to do with the rest of his life. He’d go to Canada, maybe Toronto, then south to Mexico or even Argentina. A man could lose himself completely, become reborn down there.
He began to feel bucked up. He was still young, under forty, smart, and he had a small bankroll, enough for a modest start somewhere else. His smile widened as he walked into the second bedroom, which he’d made into a home office. Before he went to bed there was one more thing to do.
He sat in front of his new computer, turned it on and began to write a letter to the New South Wales Commissioner of Police. The subject of his letter was Lenny Kovacs, and he detailed everything he knew about him and his various activities … An hour later he printed the letter off, re-read it, but left it unsigned. There was enough for the police to bring Lenny in for questioning. He chuckled as he addressed the envelope and put a stamp on it. With luck Lenny would, when questioned, shit himself and say something incriminating. God, he wished he could stick around to see what happened, but …
He yawned as he switched off the computer. Tonight had been hellish and tomorrow was going to be as bad, handing over the shares, finalising the details of his life here … Neil patted the letter and took it into the living room, where he dropped it on the table near the door so he wouldn’t forget to post it. There was some satisfaction in having made that gesture. If it brought Lenny down, put him where he should be — behind bars — he would have to be content with that …
Lenny watched Michaela get the fire going, admiring her competency. In the time between dusk and nightfall, under her directions, they had made a make-do shelter by draping the tarpaulin over the back of the wing of the plane and fixing it to the boulder with several rocks. If a wind didn’t come up during the night they would at least stay dry. She had also scrounged more usable items from the plane: two cups, some tools in a metal box — though he couldn’t see that they’d be of much use — a roll of insulated wire and a plastic box that contained food, courtesy of the Beaumonts’ housekeeper. Michaela always brought food for the flights: sandwiches, biscuits, a couple of chocolate bars and several pieces of fruit to nibble on while in the air. Most of the time little got eaten, so tonight they wouldn’t starve, not in the short term anyway.
She had tried to make Fern more comfortable, using one of the seats as a pillow for her head and draping their jackets over her body to keep her warm. The kid hadn’t regained consciousness but her breathing seemed okay, even if her skin tone was too pale to be considered normal. There was nothing else they could do, and Michaela’s frustration at that was obvious.
‘It’ll be cool here tonight. We should try to keep the fire going all night. There’s enough wood to do that, if we tend it carefully.’
‘Tell me you weren’t a Girl Guide, please?’ Lenny teased as his gaze subtly ran over her. In spite of a
ll that had happened, the plane crash, the bruise on the side of her face, to him she looked spectacular. Her dark hair bounced around freely and though her jeans were stained with grease spots from crawling over the plane and had rents at both knees, to him she couldn’t have looked more desirable. With difficulty he maintained control over his physical response to her. Christ, getting a hard-on now would be awkward to disguise, even in the semi-darkness.
Michaela grinned as she admitted with some pride, ‘The best in my troop, with the most merit badges.’ She let him digest that, then added, ‘At first light we’re going to build a signal fire in the middle of the meadow. We’ll drag bigger, fallen tree branches out of the scrub and pile them up like a bonfire. As soon as we’ve built it, we’ll light it.’
Lenny scratched his receding hairline. ‘How will it burn? The timber will be wet from the rain.’
‘There’s an empty jerry can in the plane. We’ll find a way to get petrol out of the tank and fill it, to douse over the branches.’
‘Got it all worked out, hey?’
‘I hope.’ This time her smile was brief. ‘If tomorrow’s a clear day, we’ll light it as soon as we can and hope that rising smoke will alert any search planes to our location.’ She looked at Fern, moved to touch her cheek, checked her forehead for a temperature; she thought she was cool, much cooler than she should be. ‘Fern hasn’t regained consciousness, and I’m really worried about what might be wrong with her. Poor love, she doesn’t look good. The sooner we get her out of here and into hospital the better.’ She had checked her over again and hadn’t found any obvious broken bones, but around the top of her rib cage, on the left-hand side below her breast, was some swelling and bruising. Broken ribs? Maybe. If only she had some medical knowledge, she was sure she’d be able to do more for her.
‘Sure. Look, why don’t we tend the fire in four-hourly shifts? We’ll have something to eat now, then you take a nap. I’ll wake you, say, at about eleven o’clock.’
‘Okay.’ She nodded in appreciation of his thoughtfulness. Lenny was quite nice, most of the time, except for back at the porpoise pool when she’d seen a side of him she hadn’t known existed. Odd behaviour, that.
She divided the food into three piles, in case Fern woke, and half filled the plastic cups with water. They ate in silence, watching the fire crackle and burn as it spat gold embers into the air and threw shadows against the boulders to make eerie light patterns dance on the roof of the plane’s wing. Half an hour later she cleared an area of small stones and twigs, then lay on the other side of the fire in a position where, if she lifted her head, she could see her niece. Seeing Fern like this, so still and fragile-looking, was killing her, and she imagined the reaction at home. Police would have alerted the family by now. Caroline and Nick would be out of their minds with worry. Mum, too. And Leith — he would be frustrated that officials would have to wait all night before an air search could commence.
Everyone probably thought they were dead; not many people survived small plane crashes in the bush. That they had survived, even though Fern could be badly hurt, was a small miracle — she couldn’t help but think that and wonder about it, over and over. Closing her eyes, she willed sleep to come. She needed the rest for she was bone-weary and her body had begun to feel sore all over. Though she hadn’t looked, being too busy, she too probably had her share of bruises … everywhere.
Lenny poked a stick into the fire as he had seen Michaela do and added another small branch, noting that the heat from the blaze was keeping the night’s chill away. His gaze kept darting to Michaela, lying on her back with her arms folded across her chest. Occasionally she moved, trying to ease herself into a more comfortable position. He watched the rise and fall of her chest as her breathing evened out and sleep overtook her.
Firelight played along her features, softening their angularity, and her hair splayed across the grass and her forehead, disguising the bluish tinge of the bruise on her cheek. He sat cross-legged for a while, drinking in her beauty as he had never been able to before. In repose, with her mouth and features relaxed, the sensuality within her still emanated powerfully. Christ, he’d bet she was a sensation in bed. He flexed his fingers towards the warmth of the fire. They longed to touch her, they tingled — even ached — from wanting to caress every inch of her, to the point of madness.
He jerked his gaze away to stare out into the darkness, weighing up the possibilities of what his body and mind were urging him to do. He liked to think things through before he acted, analyse the possibilities from all angles. The plane crashing had more than one ramification as far as he was concerned. There would be no more flying trips together, he was sure of it. Therefore, no more opportunities to impress her, to know her better and vice versa. And … they were here, alone. Now was the best chance for him, the only real chance to take what he wanted. And he had waited … for months and months … longer than he’d waited to have any woman. He licked his lips speculatively, much like a wolf appraising a future meal. This could, would be their last time together. If he didn’t act now …
He reached out and feather-touched her chin, then her cheek. She was in a deep sleep. He inched closer, devouring her with his eyes, his body already hardening with desire and need. Christ, he would burst if he didn’t have her. He would have her! His analytical thought processes overcame any sense of guilt or concern for what happened afterwards, to her or him. And what could she do out here? There was no-one to come to her rescue. A sly smile lit his face as his thoughts continued. Besides, he rationalised his intention, Michaela was not a virgin. She knew the score, how men were, what they wanted. It felt like he’d waited a lifetime for her. Well, no longer!
With rare gentleness he began to unbutton her shirt …
Michaela was having a wonderful dream. Leith was next to her, touching her breasts, stroking her throat, sliding his hand between her legs and rubbing the most sensitive part of her body through her clothes. She stretched languidly, moaned responsively. Then lips met hers and they kissed. A tongue forced its way through her lips. A chill suddenly swept through her. Sleep stole away in an instant and consciousness returned. It wasn’t Leith! She struggled out of her stupor but, by the time she had, the weight of a man’s body was on top of her.
There was only one man it could be. Her eyelids opened wide …
Michaela tensed as she stared into Lenny’s pale eyes. ‘Jesus, what do you think you’re doing?’ She spat the question at him as she tried to wrestle him off her.
‘What I’ve wanted to do for months. Get you flat on your back, darling.’ His tone was thick with repressed desire. ‘Now, be a good girl, spread your legs for me and I promise you, we’ll both have a very good time.’
‘Are you serious? Get the hell off me.’ She tried to buck him off but, for a small man, he was unbelievably strong. He moved, sat on her thighs, pinning her to the ground and, as her fists came up to punch his grinning face, he grabbed first one then the other and imprisoned them above her head with one of his own hands. That left the other hand free to rove wherever it pleased … and it did.
‘We can do it rough or we can do it easy, Michaela,’ Lenny told her, soft menace as well as purpose in his tone. ‘I don’t mind which,’ he added conversationally. ‘You’re not the first woman I’ve had to take by force.’
‘I’ll kill you,’ she threatened but, even as she said the words, they sounded impotent. She couldn’t believe the strength of him. The hand holding hers above her head was like a vice. She wriggled her wrists, flexed her elbows, tugged as hard as she could, but she couldn’t break free. Then she bucked her torso and hips. She tried to roll, tried every manoeuvre she could think of to get him off — he didn’t budge.
By now her heart was hammering inside her chest and her breathing became uneven. She was wasting precious energy trying to escape and, as she did, waves of fear cascaded through her body, weakening her further. She saw that his trouser zip was undone and could feel his hardness poking into her
lower stomach. Dear God, what was she going to do?
His free hand fumbled with the button of her jeans. He undid the zipper and pushed his hand under her panties and down, down. She renewed her efforts, thrashing madly from side to side and then … his harsh laugh chilled her through to her madly beating heart. He was amused by her tactics to evade the inevitable, and her actions were increasing his sexual excitement. Damn him! Her gaze narrowed on his lust-filled face: he was almost drooling. And she was so mad, she could … When she got free, she would kill him.
‘You bastard!’ How could she have been fooled by Lenny Kovacs’ niceness, for months? ‘This is what you wanted all along, wasn’t it? To rape me.’
‘Rape, that’s such a harsh word.’ He leant forward to whisper close to her ear. ‘I’d rather we have consensual sex, it’s more enjoyable for both of us. It’s up to you. Let me,’ his tongue licked her cheek and she pulled her face away, ‘show you a good time.’
Frantic, Michaela tried to think. Panic was warring with fury, and the latter was winning. How dare he … ? Suddenly she remembered Caroline and her Tai Kwon Do exercises. God, why hadn’t she paid more attention when she’d been doing them? She couldn’t recall any move that would get her out of this predicament. Besides, he was too close. Too damned close. Her heartbeat raced on, fear expanding throughout her body until it threatened to choke her. Think! Outwit him. How? The way he was moving on top of her, rubbing the lower half of his body against hers to become even more excited — and what he was doing with his hands — warned of his growing impatience.
Suddenly he brought his free arm up and placed his forearm across her throat, over her windpipe. He began to exert a downwards pressure. She gagged and coughed as she choked. She couldn’t breathe properly, he was deliberately cutting off her air supply. The bastard had done this before! To God knows how many women. Turning her head and neck slightly didn’t let her draw in enough air either.
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