Charlotte Pass

by Lee Christine

  ‘Di Gordon’s doing all the talking,’ Ryder commented.

  ‘The women usually do.’

  ‘Henry looks like he can’t wait to get back to monitoring China.’

  Lewicki shook his head. ‘Jesus. What a weird mob this lot turned out to be.’

  The outer door near the stage opened and two women came in. Even from across the room Ryder recognised Libby from the childcare centre. She was chatting to the taller one who had turned her back to them and was searching for a spare hook on which to hang their jackets.

  Ryder straightened, watching as the woman reached up and draped both jackets over a brass hook, her long, dark hair falling in waves to the middle of her back. She turned around and Ryder’s breath hitched. He’d only ever seen Vanessa in her loose-fitting ski patrol suit, apart from the morning she’d opened the door to him and Flowers wearing long thermals and thick socks. Tonight, she wore a long silver jumper over stretch denim jeans that moulded to her shapely legs. Her cherry-red lipstick was a perfect match for the Doc Martens on her feet.

  A young woman sitting at a table called out, and Vanessa waved and made her way towards the group with Libby. Ryder leaned back into the shadow of a square column close to their table.

  ‘I’m happy for you.’

  ‘What?’ Ryder glanced at his friend over the rim of his glass. ‘I think you’re getting sentimental in your old age, Lew.’ This is how it was between them. The verbal sparring was how they showed they cared. ‘There’s nothing between Vanessa and me. She’s a ski patroller and I live in Sydney. I’d be nuts to start something with her.’

  So why did you agree to meet her for coffee or a drink?

  ‘Didn’t look that way to me the other day. I like the way she stood up to you. You can be a stubborn bastard.’

  ‘That’s rich, coming from you.’

  Lew shook his head, his expression turning pensive. ‘Why don’t you give yourself permission to be happy?’ he asked softly.

  ‘You know why. And I am happy, sort of. She’s talking to a group of ski instructors. What do you want me to do?’

  Lewicki slid off the stool with a sigh. ‘I’m getting us another drink.’

  With Lewicki gone, Ryder watched Vanessa talk to the people at the table. Terry had moved over so she could sit beside him. An image of the two of them eating lunch in the cafe came to mind. He had sensed they had been discussing something serious. Terry had been stressing a point, his index finger jabbing the tabletop as he spoke. Vanessa had been nodding, and then she’d looked up and caught Ryder’s eye for a moment.

  Ryder continued to watch them now, wondering if they’d been discussing work, or if there was something personal between them. And it bothered him that he hoped they weren’t involved. Surely, she wouldn’t have asked him out if she had some kind of relationship with Terry?

  ‘This’ll help you sleep,’ said Lewicki, putting a tumbler of whiskey on the table.

  ‘You think I need sleep?’

  ‘Are you getting any?’

  ‘Not much,’ he admitted, dragging his gaze away from Vanessa back to Lew. ‘Tell me something. Of all the horrific cases you’ve worked on, why did this one get to you?’

  Lew took a mouthful of whiskey, held it in his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing. ‘It was a bit too close to home.’

  Ryder frowned. ‘Close to home?’

  Lewicki sighed. ‘Did you ever wonder why Annie and I didn’t have kids?’

  ‘Sure. You don’t ask those kinds of questions, though.’

  Lew paused as though he were having trouble knowing where to start. ‘Annie had a baby before I met her. She was eighteen when she got pregnant, around Eunice Delaney’s age. There were parallels. Both girls came from devoutly Catholic families.’

  Of all the things Ryder had expected Lew to say, this wasn’t it. Unsure of the best way to respond, he said, ‘I’m sorry, Lew.’

  ‘Don’t get me wrong, Annie’s not religious.’

  ‘Right.’ Unlike Eunice Delaney. Ryder thought about the holy water fonts and religious pictures on the walls. Of the way Eunice had crossed herself before entering Celia’s bedroom. ‘Eunice told me her parents believed God took Celia away as punishment for marrying a Protestant. Can you believe that?’

  ‘Jesus bloody Christ!’ Lew gave an angry shake of his head. ‘Annie’s parents made her give her baby away. They sent her to a convent as soon as she started to show, and she was forced to stay there till the birth.’ He took a breath, then added with unveiled bitterness: ‘And then the nuns took her baby girl away.’

  Ryder shook his head, his heart sore for the gentle, compassionate Annie. She had understood his anguish. Now he understood hers.

  ‘So much for the good old days, hey?’ Lew swirled the spirit around in his glass, staring into the depths of the amber liquid. ‘After Annie and I got married, we tried for a baby. It didn’t happen.’ He glanced sideways at Ryder. ‘It was me—obviously. I suggested we adopt a baby, but Annie said no. She couldn’t bear the thought of loving someone else’s child when she’d given her own away.’

  ‘Oh, God, Lew. I’m sorry.’ Ryder lifted the tumbler to his lips with a shaky hand.

  ‘I had a hard time coming to terms with Annie’s decision. I was angry with her. It put pressure on our marriage. Then, Celia went missing. I threw myself into the case, determined to find Celia for the grief-stricken Delaneys.’

  ‘It’s the worst thing on earth, losing a child,’ Ryder said. ‘If it wasn’t for you and Annie, and my family, I wouldn’t have come out the other side.’

  ‘Perspectives change over time, too. Annie now regrets not adopting, but after all the shit I’ve seen in this job, I’m kind of glad we didn’t.’

  Ryder knocked back the rest of his whiskey and set his glass on the table. ‘Thanks for telling me, Lew. I appreciate it wasn’t easy.’

  ‘Yeah, well, we’re getting morose tonight.’ Lewicki smiled one of his rare smiles. ‘Next time we’ll keep Daisy with us.’

  ‘Take it easy,’ Ryder said with a chuckle. ‘He’d probably order a Long Island Iced Tea.’

  On stage, the rhythm guitarist began to play the intro to Pat Benatar’s ‘All Fired Up’, and Ryder couldn’t stop himself from looking around at Vanessa’s table. A young bloke with surf-grommet hair was trying to coax her out of her seat and onto the dance floor. She protested, much to Ryder’s pleasure, before going reluctantly. Others crowded around her. She began to move, half-heartedly at first, but it didn’t take long for her to get into the spirit of things. She was the kind of dancer who gave herself over to the music. Hands raised above her head, and with her hair falling about her face, she twirled and gyrated with the best of them.

  Ryder wanted to knock the drooling grommet out.

  ‘Well, that’s it for me,’ he said, sliding off his stool and hooking his coat over his shoulder. He hadn’t had time to change before dinner but at least he’d managed to lose the tie. ‘Are you coming?’

  ‘No, I’ll have one more before turning in. You go. You’re on duty tomorrow.’

  Ryder clapped his friend on the shoulder and, without looking at Vanessa again, turned away.

  On the dance floor, Vanessa saw Ryder stand up.

  She caught her breath, excitement seeping into every molecule of her body, her racing heart now beating triple time.

  How long had he been there?

  Wasn’t he supposed to be in Sydney?

  She kept moving, watching as he stood talking to Lewicki, his suit coat casually hooked over one shoulder. The two of them had been sitting in the shadows.

  As she watched, he turned and walked away. Hoping he was heading for the bar, she stopped dancing and tracked him as he shouldered his way through the crowd.

  ‘Hey, what’s the matter?’

  Sam’s hands landed on her waist and he spun her around.

  ‘Sam.’ Vanessa pushed his hands away. ‘Thanks for the dance but I have to go.’

  ‘Hey! W
hat’s up?’

  Ryder was leaving—that’s what was up. She ducked around a jiving couple and grabbed her jacket off the hook. Without bothering to put it on, she opened the door and stepped out into the sub-zero night.

  The wind whipped her hair about her face, and she impatiently brushed it out of her eyes, determined to intercept him before he reached his suite. She struggled up the short slope towards the main entrance, her Doc Martens slipping more than once on the windblown ice. He needed to walk the length of the corridor then climb two flights of stairs to his suite.

  With no idea of what she was going to say to him, she tramped past the ski racks outside the main entrance then pushed her way inside through the swinging double doors. At the metal grate, she stamped her feet to get the snow off her boots, then opened an internal door that led into the normally busy foyer. Tonight, it was deserted, the shop and cafe closed for the evening, the only sound the low frequency of the bass guitar reverberating through the floor.

  Vanessa hurried across the foyer and swung left into the corridor.

  He was about three metres away, head down, deep in thought, his suit coat still hooked over his shoulder.

  He looked up and stopped, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. ‘Vanessa. Weren’t you just in the bar?’

  So, he had seen her, dancing with Sam.

  She nodded, breathless from her impromptu sprint up the hill. Now that she’d bailed him up, she had no idea what she was going to do next. ‘I didn’t see you until you stood up. Libby told me you were in Sydney.’

  ‘Libby did?’

  ‘She spoke to Detective Flowers.’

  ‘Oh.’ He let the suit coat slide off his shoulder. Holding it by the collar, he jigged it up and down a bit. ‘I’m glad you got the message.’

  Oh shit! What now? She took an unsteady breath. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’

  He took two steps closer to her, a concerned expression on his face. ‘What is it?’

  She knew what he was thinking, that she was going to tell him something important about Celia Delaney.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Before she lost her nerve completely, she let her jacket slide to the floor and closed the gap between them. Stuff Henry Gordon and his stupid warning. He could sack her for all she cared.

  Taking Ryder by the shoulders, Vanessa stood on tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. For a few heady moments she stayed like that, her eyes closed to the world, her mouth on his as she breathed in his woodsy aftershave.

  She broke the kiss and stepped back, licking the taste of whiskey from her lips.

  He looked shocked, then pleased, a flush staining his neck above his collared shirt. He smiled, his white, even teeth a sharp contrast to the five o’clock shadow darkening his jaw. ‘I’m listening.’

  Vanessa’s legs turned to water beneath her—from relief, or desire, or both.

  He moved quickly, taking her hand and shouldering open the door of the nearby drying room. Tugging her inside, he threw his suit coat on the bench and turned to her.

  ‘My jacket,’ Vanessa gasped. ‘It’s outside.’

  He caught the door before it swung closed, retrieved her jacket then threw it on top of his. He swore as a censor light began to flicker on, revealing rows of ski jackets hanging from hooks and boots lined up along the floor.

  Vanessa laughed as he thumped the light switch, plunging the humid room into near darkness save for the filtered light from the corridor that shone through a small glass panel in the door.

  They stood in the darkened room, breathing heavily, moments of blissful anticipation stretching between them. And then he was there, towering over her, warm hands cupping her face, the pads of his thumbs stroking across her cheeks. He lowered his head, blocking out the light before his lips claimed hers in a kiss so unhurriedly seductive Vanessa’s body shook in a top-to-toe tremble.

  She brought her hands to his chest, running her palms over the hard wall of muscle, the steady strike of his heart pulsing beneath her fingertips. She moaned softly, and he drew her closer, deepening the kiss, his jaw rough like sandpaper against her cheek.

  ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he murmured when they broke for air, ‘and so soft.’ He pressed his lips to the side of her neck, shifting aside the neckline of her jumper so he could access the tender skin of her collarbone.

  Vanessa clung to him, pressing against him in an effort to get closer. He growled low in his throat, his hands sliding downwards before splaying across her bottom and pulling her flush up against him.

  ‘Oh …’

  He set her away from him, breathing hard. ‘We’re not staying here.’

  He left her to peer through the glass square, then opened the door and looked up and down the corridor. Satisfied there was no one out there, he pointed a finger at her. ‘You stay here.’

  She smiled. ‘You just said we weren’t staying here.’

  ‘I have to get rid of Flowers. He’s working in my rooms.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Her disappointment must have shown on her face, because he waved a hand in the air and said, ‘Stuff it. Come on.’

  Out in the corridor, he told her to go ahead. ‘I’ll follow. It’ll look like I’m going to interview you.’

  ‘That sounds like a fun game.’ Vanessa headed towards the staircase on legs wobbly with excitement. ‘Try and act naturally,’ she whispered over her shoulder.

  ‘Yeah, that’ll be easy.’

  She stifled a giggle, schooling her face into a serious expression as they passed a group of guests who were playing cards at a table close to the bottom of the stairs. Most people were in the cocktail bar or sitting on the lounge close to the open fire.

  When they finally reached the door of Ryder’s suite, Vanessa let out a sigh of relief.

  ‘I’ll speak to Flowers,’ he said, going in ahead of her.

  Vanessa followed him inside, suddenly nervous Detective Flowers would see through Ryder’s explanation for her being there. Hopefully, he’d already thought of a convincing one.

  She watched as he stuck his head around the doorway of the makeshift office. ‘Beat it, Flowers.’

  Vanessa’s mouth fell open and she looked around for somewhere to hide.

  ‘What did you say, Sarge?’ came Flowers’ confused reply.

  ‘Beat it. You’re off duty for the night.’

  ‘I’m nearly finished.’

  ‘Goddammit. How many times do you want me to—’

  ‘All right.’ The typist chair squeaked.

  Vanessa glared at Ryder as he came towards her. Then Flowers appeared in the doorway, his confused expression clearing as he caught sight of Vanessa.

  ‘Oh, hello, Vanessa.’

  ‘Hello,’ she said, trying to look serious, as though she might be there on police business.

  Flowers didn’t buy it for a second. He fought off a smile as he looked from her to Ryder and back again.

  ‘Nice one, Sarge,’ she heard him murmur as Ryder shut the door behind him and locked it.

  Twenty

  Day 7

  Vanessa stirred as Ryder left the bed at 5 am. She stretched her limbs, her body deliciously sated. She propped herself up on one elbow, admiring the shape of his shadowy silhouette as he went to close the six-inch gap in the drapes. ‘Can we leave them open a bit? I hate not being able to see.’

  He turned and came back to the bed, sliding in beside her. ‘I didn’t mean to wake you.’ He lay on his back, and Vanessa shifted closer so she could put her head on his shoulder.

  ‘Lombardi’s out there,’ he said, wrapping an arm tightly around her.

  Vanessa raised her head and listened. Sure enough, the familiar sound of the grooming machine changing gears could be heard out on the mountain. She lowered her head onto Ryder’s shoulder again and closed her eyes. ‘I’m used to it. I don’t hear it anymore.’

  A sudden flash from the machine’s powerful headlights swept across the room like a searchlig
ht. ‘Did the lights wake you?’ she asked.

  ‘Hmm.’ He stroked his fingers leisurely over her hip. ‘What did you say about hating not being able to see?’

  Vanessa snuggled closer. ‘Remember how I told you I got lost on the farm once?’

  He turned and pressed his lips against her temple. ‘I’m glad they found you.’

  ‘I was down in a gully, surrounded by fog. It was so thick I couldn’t see my fingers if I stretched out my arm. My arm wasn’t very long back then, either. I was only five.’

  ‘You must have been terrified.’

  ‘I was. Even now, I have one of those little moon lamps next to my bed. It’s not as wussy as a night light. Still, people notice things when you’re afraid of something.’

  ‘Who notices?’

  She nuzzled her face into his neck and ran her hand across his smooth chest. Did he have any idea just how gloriously good he smelled?

  ‘Who?’ he asked again.

  ‘Just some people in ski school. Say the visibility’s poor and there’s debate over whether we put the chairlift on hold—I’m always the first one to say we should do it. Just the thought of a guest going missing in a whiteout, or me being lost with no sense of the horizon, is enough to freak me out.’

  ‘It would freak me out too, and I’m a tough detective.’

  She laughed. ‘I know, but I don’t want to be seen as weak. It’s not a good look.’

  ‘I’ve never met a woman less weak. You asked me out, remember, and kissed me first.’

  ‘You should grab your opportunities with both hands,’ she said with a smile. ‘And what a good cup of coffee it turned out to be.’

  He gave a shout of laughter and turned to look at her. ‘Definitely my kind of coffee.’

  She kissed him, and spoke against his lips. ‘Will it happen again, do you think? Would you like it to?’