Riverboat Point

by Tricia Stringer

  Riverboat Point

  TRICIA STRINGER

  www.harlequinbooks.com.au

  ALSO BY TRICIA STRINGER

  Queen of the Road

  Right As Rain

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Tricia Stringer grew up on a farm in country South Australia. A mother of three wonderful grown-up children and a devoted nanna, Tricia now lives in the beautiful Copper Coast region with her husband, Daryl.

  Most of Tricia’s life so far has been spent in rural communities, as owner of a post office and bookshop, as a teacher and librarian, and now as a full-time writer. She loves travelling and exploring Australia’s diverse communities and landscapes, and shares this passion for the country and its people through her stories. One of Tricia’s rural romances, Queen of the Road, won the Romance Writers of Australia’s Romantic Book of the Year award in 2013.

  Riverboat Point is Tricia’s third book with Harlequin.

  www.triciastringer.com

  www.facebook.com/triciastringerauthor@tricia_stringer

  For Vivonne

  CONTENTS

  Also by Tricia Stringer

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Acknowledgments

  CHAPTER

  1

  A tapping sound penetrated Savannah’s dream. Something jabbed into her back and her hip was wedged firmly. She flung out an arm and hit the steering wheel. She was in a car. Her heart lurched. The car crash! A dog barked. It was loud and close. Her eyes flew open. A huge woolly head, mouth open, teeth exposed, was right in her face.

  She jerked backwards. The gear stick dug deeper into her left thigh as she twisted out from under the steering wheel. There was a mist on the driver’s side glass between her and the dog.

  “Down, Jasper,” a male voice commanded, then, “Are you all right?”

  Savannah gasped. The dog was replaced by a man’s face; unshaven, frowning. She glanced around. The grey light of early morning revealed the interior of her car. Not her parents’ car, there had been no crash. She’d pulled over last night, lost and too tired to drive any further.

  The dog barked. The man tapped on the window again.

  “Are you all right?” he repeated.

  Savannah straightened stiffened limbs and felt for the lever to raise her seat.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” she snapped, glad the closed window separated her from the large German Shepherd.

  “Not a good place to stop,” the man said. “Just around a bend.”

  Savannah ignored him. She had completely lost her bearings last night when she’d pulled to the edge of the dirt road. It had been pointless to keep driving.

  The man walked on, the dog leading the way, eager to be off. She looked in the rear-view mirror but the back window was covered in mist, like the rest of the windows. She gathered up the towel she’d pulled over her as an extra layer against the cold and used it to wipe the windscreen. A stab of pain shot down her arm. Definitely not a good idea to sleep in her car overnight. She would be stiff and sore all day.

  “Bloody Jaxon and his schemes,” Savannah muttered. Her brother’s desperate phone call the day before had enticed her out of the city to this shack of his, kilometres away from civilisation, on the banks of the Murray River. Trouble was, she’d only been to visit once before to check what she was going guarantor for when he’d bought the place. That had been a year ago and in daylight. Last night it was as if it had disappeared off the map.

  She turned the key with stiff fingers. The engine roared to life. She lowered her window and stuck her head out. The crisp chill of early morning air flowed over her. She was parked just around a bend, the stranger had been right. Ahead the road was straight, bordered by wire fences on either side. It stretched on towards some tall gums and …

  “Damn it!” Savannah slapped the steering wheel. She could see Jaxon’s distinctive letterbox. The frame of an old pushbike with a box balanced on the handlebars. His idea of a joke. The only bike he ever rode was a Harley-Davidson. She pulled out and drove forward. She had been so close, yet last night in the dark she hadn’t realised. Hopelessly lost once she’d left the main highway, she’d driven around for ages. There were no streetlights and not even any moon. When she’d tried ringing Jaxon, his mobile had gone straight to message bank and his landline was answered by his recorded message.

  Now, as she approached his driveway, she didn’t know whether to be angry or worried. She pulled up in front of the solid mesh gate. On it hung a large blue sign with navy-blue writing declaring “J&S Houseboats”. The gate was latched with a chain and a locked padlock. She pulled a set of keys from her console. Jaxon had given her a spare of every key. “You’re my guarantor,” he’d said with that cheeky grin of his. “Everything here is yours until I can pay it off.”

  She tested half the keys before she found the one that opened the padlock. The gate swung free, shuddered against the fence then stopped. She drove through and on past the workshop and sheds to Jaxon’s shack, perched high above the river. It surprised her now as it had the first time she’d come. The drive through the bush to get here gave no indication of the existence of the wide river flowing past Jaxon’s door.

  She pulled up under the carport at the side of the shack. There was no sign of Jaxon’s bike. She climbed out, stretched her stiff body then stood still, listening. She heard nothing. How he could stand the isolation and silence she didn’t know. Give her the sounds of the city any day.

  She walked around her car to the verandah that ran the full length of the shack facing the river. All the blinds were closed and the middle section, which was once a wall with two small windows and a rotting wooden door, had been replaced by some kind of panelling, floor-to-ceiling windows and a large sliding glass door. She remembered Jaxon telling her on one of his visits to the city that he’d met someone who had a salvage yard and someone else who was a carpenter and he’d replaced the front of the shack. She tugged on the door handle but it didn’t budge. She didn’t have the keys for the new door. She knocked on the glass.

  “Jaxon!” she called. “Hello!”

  She listened but there was no response. She retraced her steps, past her car to the back. Once again the verandah stretched along the length of the shack but this time it ended in a room which was the laundry. The screen door was old and creaked open at her twist of the handle. The door beyond it was also old and weathered but solid. She hoped on
e of the keys in her hand would open it.

  The first key she chose turned the lock. She had to give the door a shove to get it open. The handle slipped from her fingers and the door flung back, slamming into the wall.

  Savannah paused on the doorstep and peered into the gloomy interior. The laundry window was filled in with cardboard. The only light came from the doorway and illuminated a large automatic washing machine that took up most of the small space.

  “Jaxon?” she called again but with less confidence. Had something happened to him and she was about to find his body?

  There was a faint rustle from inside the shack.

  She pursed her lips and stepped through the doorway.

  “Bloody hell, Jaxon, if you’re playing tricks I’ll throttle you,” Savannah called as she turned right and went up a step, past the toilet and bathroom and into the kitchen.

  With every blind closed it was gloomy inside. She wrinkled her nose. There was a smell of something musty. She reached out a hand to find the light switch and flicked it on. Where once there’d been a few old cupboards, a stove and a sink that served as a kitchen there was now a large U-shaped bench. In one corner of the U was a pantry cupboard with open benches joining it at right angles. Under the window a new sink gleamed along with an oven and cooktop. Jaxon had been busy. There must be a lot of work for electricians around the area. From what he’d told her the houseboat side of things ate money rather than made it.

  She stepped further into the room but pulled up at a rustling sound. She spun and studied the pantry. It went from the floor nearly to the ceiling, the angled space between the two benches filled by a louvre door. She approached it carefully, her feet silent on the linoleum floor. At the door she stopped, carefully grasped the round handle and tugged. The door swung back, a light came on and a grey blur whizzed along a shelf close to her face. She shrieked and slammed the door shut. Not quick enough to contain the smell of mice.

  Savannah clasped a hand over her mouth and hurried to inspect the bedrooms. The house was a rectangle. The kitchen and living area formed an open space in the middle. Jaxon’s bedroom was the largest, taking up the side of the house in front of the laundry and bathroom. The bedclothes were pulled up, shoes filled a basket and scattered the floor around it. From the open wardrobe door she could see there were more clothes jumbled in a heap at the base than hanging from hangers. She walked around his double bed. The bedside table was covered in a layer of dust, coins and paper receipts but nothing to indicate Jaxon’s whereabouts. Just a faint male smell remained. Better than mice at least, and hopefully it meant they weren’t in here.

  A picture frame had fallen to the floor. She picked it up. It was one of the last family photos they’d had taken. Their mother had displayed it on the small mantelpiece in their lounge room. Savannah grew to hate the picture. Their faces smiling on a rare holiday at the beach, all she could see was her large body. How had her mother ever allowed her to wear two-piece bathers, the rolls of fat unrestrained by fabric? Puppy fat her mother had told her, but that’s not what the kids at high school had called it. Savannah had hidden the photo. She wondered how Jaxon ended up with it. And where was he now? She put the picture facedown on his bedside table and continued her search.

  Across the living room in the opposite wall were two more doors. The front one revealed a double bed and wardrobe and the room behind it was stacked with boxes and electrical gear. In one corner was a desk. Above it hung a pin board with papers clipped in rows and a calendar with an all but naked brunette astride a bike. Files were neatly stacked on the desk alongside the flashing answering machine. That was the house all checked; unless he was in a cupboard or under a bed, Jaxon wasn’t here.

  Savannah sighed.

  “Where are you?” she murmured.

  Suddenly desperate to use the bathroom, she went back across the living room. Beyond her the screen door swung open. Savannah turned to see the dog with the large woolly head. It bared its teeth in a snarl. She froze. A man stuck his head round the door. The same bloke she’d seen out on the road.

  “Who the hell are you?” he growled.

  “None of your business. Get your dog and yourself off my property.”

  The man’s face relaxed into a confident smile. “Your property? You picked the wrong place to break into and tell that lie, sweetheart. This place belongs to my mate.”

  “Jaxon?” she said ignoring the “sweetheart”.

  His smile faltered.

  She nodded at the keys still hanging from the lock. “They’re my keys and I own half this place with my brother, Jaxon Smith.”

  This time his smile showed relief. “Savannah?”

  “Yes but …” She shuffled her feet. The dog snarled again.

  “It’s okay, Jasper. The lady’s a friend.” He pushed the dog back and stepped inside, pulling the screen door closed between him and the animal. The dog barked.

  “Sit, Jasper,” the man commanded and turned back to her with a smile. “I’m Ethan Daly,” he said. “Jaxon’s neighbour. I’ve been expecting you. You’re just not …”

  Ethan put his head to one side and swept his dark brown eyes over her. Savannah felt naked. She wrapped her arms around her waist, ignoring his outstretched hand. He’d looked older out on the road. Now she thought he was a little older than her, perhaps not much more than thirty. The smile softened his features.

  He grinned at her and used the hand to bat away a loose lock of dark hair that had fallen over his eyes. “You’re not quite what I was expecting.” He glanced over her shoulder. “I thought I heard a scream.”

  “I got a surprise. There’s a mouse in the pantry.”

  “More than one by the smell. I can give you a hand if you like?”

  He went to step past her. She pressed a firm hand against his chest. He stopped.

  She dropped her hand. “I don’t need help,” she said.

  His smile faded.

  “Thanks anyway,” she added.

  He made a move for the door.

  “Do you know where my brother is?” she asked.

  “Gone on a holiday.”

  “A holiday?” That’s not what he’d told her when he’d rung.

  “I was expecting you days ago. Jaxon said you’d be up to take care of business.”

  “Business?”

  “The houseboat bookings mainly. His other customers know he’s away.”

  “Other customers?”

  “His electrical business.” A small frown crossed Ethan’s face. “You don’t know much about your brother, do you? Maybe I should see some ID.”

  Savannah drew herself up. “My brother’s six foot – he got the tall gene. Blue eyes like mine, fair wavy hair – I dye mine – charming smile.”

  “You dye that too?”

  Savannah ignored his dig.

  “Jaxon rang me two days ago,” she said. “He reckoned he needed my help urgently. I wasn’t going to come at all but he sounded desperate and I’m … well, I’m between jobs.”

  Ethan raised an eyebrow. The dog gave a small whine.

  “I don’t know why he only rang you recently. He’s been gone for over a week.”

  “A week?”

  “Longer. I was beginning to worry. I know he’s got a couple of bookings next week.”

  “Bookings?” Savannah rubbed at her forehead. She had so many questions. Ethan was right to some extent. She knew her brother but nothing about his life since he’d moved to this isolated piece of river. “There must be some mix-up,” she said. “Are you sure you’re his neighbour? Maybe I should be the one checking ID or perhaps ringing the police.”

  Savannah stared him in the eye. He looked down.

  Guilty, she thought.

  He reached around and drew a wallet from his pocket. He flicked it open in front of her to reveal a wild-looking likeness to his face on a driver’s licence with the same street address as Jaxon’s.

  “You can ring the police if you like but as I told you, Jaxo
n’s on holidays. I don’t think the police will want to go look for him.” He slipped the wallet back in his pocket. “I’ll leave you to it. I’m just over the fence that way.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Give me a shout if you need anything.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Savannah said. She was already digging her phone from her pocket as Ethan let himself out. She tried not to notice the firm hug of his jeans. Damn it, he was a good-looking guy. And he was fit and well toned, as if he worked out. She’d felt the strength of his chest under her fingers when she’d stopped him from going further into the house.

  With her spare hand she tugged the keys from the door and shut it firmly on the nosy neighbour. There would be no chance to find out what was under that shirt. She’d track down Jaxon and hightail it back to the city. She wasn’t going to stay in this backwater any longer than she had to. She scrolled down the screen and selected Jaxon’s number.

  CHAPTER

  2

  “She’s here but I don’t think she’s going to go for it, mate.”

  Ethan pressed the phone firmly to his ear as he flicked on the kettle. The voice on the other end of the phone was breaking up.

  “Okay.” Ethan sighed. “I’ll try, but don’t blame me if it all blows up in your face.” The voice crackled and the call dropped out.

  He tossed the handset onto the bench and busied himself making some breakfast. He hadn’t wanted to be a part of his mate’s plan. Normally Ethan liked to mind his own business. It had worked for him this last year and he’d never had any trouble. Jaxon’s houseboat trade had brought a lot more people to this quiet patch of river. Ethan had hoped his friend would lose interest in it and concentrate on the electrical business. But Jaxon had wanted his sister’s involvement, said she needed a change of pace.

  Savannah Smith was not what Ethan had expected. She had the same angular features as her brother but the feisty temperament was a total reversal of her brother’s easygoing persona. Jaxon had had his fingers burnt a few times with his trusting nature. Savannah wasn’t going to have the wool pulled over her eyes easily.