One Night to Wed

by Alison Roberts

  'Police,' Fliss heard him request brusquely. Then he said 'Morriston' in response to what had to be a query regarding location.

  Then he was silent for what seemed an inordinately long time. Finally he nodded.

  'Right you are.' The call was disconnected.

  'You didn't tell them anything,' Fliss protested.

  'They already know. There's an armed offender operation already under way. They got the first call about fifteen minutes ago.'

  'But that was before we even heard the first shot.'

  'Maybe someone saw something. Or maybe someone was making threats.' He gave Fliss a curious glance. ' You knew, didn't you? That something wasn't right?'

  'I wouldn't have called the police on the strength of a premonition,' Fliss said wryly. 'But at least we know help's on the way.'

  'They said to stay put. Not to go outside under any circumstances. They said to lock our doors and windows, keep the lights off and stay hidden. They'll let us know when it's safe to come out.'

  'What?' Fliss was horrified. 'I've got patients waiting at the surgery. What if someone's been shot and needs urgent treatment? I can't stay hidden!'

  'Yes, you can, lass,' Jack said firmly. 'It's getting dark out there. We have no idea what's going on or where the idiot with the gun is. What use would you be to anyone if you go out there and get shot yourself?'

  There were no streetlights in Morriston. When it got dark, it got absolutely dark. It might only be a few hundred metres to the surgery but it would be a long way to travel with the knowledge that any movement could attract the attention of someone with little regard for the law or the sanctity of human life. Even absolute darkness was probably not enough cover for someone with bright blonde hair like Fliss's—especially when she was wearing a white shirt over her jeans.

  'I've got a cellar,' Jack told her. 'Damp little hole carved into the hill that's been no use for storage so it's empty. Won't be that comfortable but it'll be safe enough. You can come out and do your bit to help when the police arrive and you've got some protection.'

  The notion of hiding was undeniably attractive. Fliss was good at hiding. It was why she had come to Morriston in the first place, wasn't it? To hide from the painful reminders of what could have been if only things had been different.

  Fliss had achieved the isolation she'd sought but how ironic was it that she was now in a situation in which she needed Angus more than she had ever needed anyone?

  Or that the reason she needed him so badly was the very reason that had forced her to end the relationship? Angus knew what it was like to face danger like this. He had the training and skills to deal with it. To protect himself and others.

  But he was hundreds of miles away in Christchurch. Would SERT—the specialist emergency response team—be activated in response to an armed offender callout in Morriston?

  Probably. They got sent to any kind of hotspot that needed police and paramedic personnel.

  Would Angus be on duty?

  Fliss didn't know. She had .worked hard to try and stop thinking about him all the time. To stop imagining what he might be doing on a particular day or at a particular time of day or night. To stop wondering whether he had got over being furious to find he missed her as much as she missed him.

  Success in her endeavours had been patchy. Fliss still thought about Angus far too often for her peace of mind, but she had forgotten his roster.

  If he came, dressed in operational gear like his armed police team members, the sanctuary Fliss had found would be gone. Morriston, as much as Christchurch, would remind her of Angus. Of the direction his career as a paramedic had taken him. Of its call to put him in dangerous places and situations that had the potential to claim his life. A potential that had spelt the end of a future together as far as Fliss had been concerned.

  But the safety of Morriston was already violated, wasn't it? Fliss had never been this afraid in her life. It wouldn't matter if Angus was still furious with her for the way she had ended things. It wouldn't matter if she only saw him for a moment or two in the distance. Just knowing he was nearby would give her the strength to do what she knew she had to do.

  Something that could in no way include the safety of Jack's underground cellar.

  The Iroquois helicopter ferrying the personnel equipped to contain and deal with whatever the situation evolving in Morriston could produce was being buffeted by strong wind gusts as it crossed the island's spine of the Southern Alps near the Lewis Pass.

  The majority of people on board were part of the special operations squad—an elite division of the police force.

  Only two of the men were specially trained paramedics whose training crossed the boundaries between police and ambulance. One of those medically qualified SERT members on board the helicopter was Angus McBride.

  He nudged the man sitting closest to him and leaned in to be heard above the engine noise.

  'Do you think this is for real?'

  His partner, Tom, shrugged eloquently. Then he grinned and Angus could hear the message as clearly as if it had been shouted. If the early and somewhat hysterical calls to Police Control were to be believed, there was definitely some kind of battle going on in the sleepy seaside settlement of Morriston.

  It sounded like more than one person was armed and dangerous. More than one victim had already been targeted or caught in the crossfire and whoever the perpetrators were, they were not likely to simply give themselves up to the police. '

  The squad on board this helicopter was heading into unfamiliar and hostile territory and additional resources in the way of manpower or equipment were not going to be readily available. This could well prove to be the biggest challenge he and Tom had faced since joining SERT.

  So why wasn't Angus experiencing the same adrenaline rush that Tom's grin had advertised?

  Because Morriston was the destination, of course.

  Angus leaned close to his partner again. 'Want to know something weird? I was planning to visit Morriston in the next week or two.'

  Tom's eyebrows disappeared into the black balaclava covering his head. 'What on earth for?'

  Good question. Angus hadn't even told his best mate that he'd finally got over himself and made enquiries at the emergency department of Christchurch's biggest hospital in order to find out exactly where Fliss had taken herself off to when she'd walked out of his life.

  Would he really have followed through on his intention to go and see her? To risk rejection again if she was still happy with the way things now were?

  It didn't matter now. It didn't matter that the thrill of a big job unfolding had failed to capture Angus. The only thing uppermost in his mind was fear and the notion of shining a torch on that fear and making it shrink by exposure was too tempting to resist.

  'Fliss is there.'

  It seemed incongruous to be shouting something that touched such a private part of his soul but there was no danger of anyone other than Tom hearing. And he was the only one who would recognise the significance of the statement. He deserved to know that Angus had a personal agenda on this job. And Tom would know exactly how significant that agenda might be. He'd seen how devastating it had been to have Fliss walk out like that. He'd had to work with Angus in the weeks when despair and anger had vied for a controlling position in mood determination.

  'No way!' Tom looked shocked. 'I thought you said she'd gone up north.'

  'I thought she had. I never bothered asking for a specific forwarding address until a few days ago.'

  'Why the hell would she go to a place like Morriston?'

  'Guess she wanted something a bit different.'

  Tom shook his head. 'That's not different. It's a total cop-out.' He glanced at Angus. 'You sure she's there right now?'

  'As far as I know.'

  'You worried, mate?'

  Angus could say nothing. He could only set his lips into a grim line and look away from the concern on Tom's face.

  Of course he was worried.

>   Worried sick.

  Why hadn't he tried earlier to find Fliss? To contact her? To see if he could find a way to persuade her to come home?

  To arrive like this wasn't going to help anything. His bullet-proof vest and dark camouflage clothing would only remind Fliss of why she had left in the first place.

  But that didn't actually matter right now. The need to find and protect the only woman he had ever truly loved was an issue quite separate from the possibility of them ever getting back together. It was simply something that Angus had to do.

  He clenched his fists, urging the helicopter on into the black night. Not that willpower was going to make them get there any quicker but at least it felt like he was doing something.

  Before it was too late.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Even important decisions could sometimes be made purely by default.

  Fliss knew she couldn't, in all conscience, choose to stay safely hidden but the sporadic sound of continuing gunfire made her postpone any move from the relative safety of Jack's now darkened kitchen.

  She sat on the floor near the interior door and Jack sat beside her just under the telephone. Waiting for the next, still shocking, evidence of what was going on outside, they strained to hear anything that might warn of danger getting too close.

  And in the eerie, waiting silence between gunshots, Fliss was all too aware of the sound of Jack's breathing. It sounded worse than it had when she had arrived for her home visit but that was hardly surprising, given the level of stress they had both been plunged into.

  'Where are your pills, Jack?'

  'On the window-sill. Just above the electric kettle. That way I remember to take them when I make a cuppa, first thing.'

  'Did you take one this morning?'

  'Yep.'

  'I want you to take another one now,' Fliss instructed. 'I'll get it for you.' But she found a hand on her elbow, dragging her back to the floor as soon as she tried to get to her feet.

  'You stay right where you are, lass. I'll get it for myself.'

  With a grunt that revealed the effort involved, Jack pushed himself slowly upright. With the ease of familiarity, he negotiated a route past the spindle-backed chairs towards the bench more successfully than Fliss would have managed, but a chair got nudged and scraped on the wooden floorboards all the same. Fliss felt her heart skip a beat and then start to race alarmingly.

  She forced herself to take a deep breath in through her nose. And then she let it out slowly.

  There was no avoiding the situation they were in. Somehow she had to get a grip on herself and deal with it or she would be no use to anyone, including herself. The notion that she might be paralysed by a panic attack was almost as abhorrent as the violence going on in Morriston.

  She was not like her mother. She was not about to choose to become a victim—of her own emotions or anyone else's behaviour.

  'Jack?'

  'Yep?'

  'Do you keep your spray with your pills?'

  'You mean that stuff for if I get chest pain?'

  'Yes.'

  'Don't need it.'

  'It's not just for angina, Jack. It might help quite a bit with that breathlessness you've got at the moment.' Jack's blood pressure had been high enough to tolerate the potential lowering effect nitrates could have. 'I want you to take two sprays under your tongue.'

  'Hmmph!' She could hear Jack shaking a container of tablets. 'I'll take the extra pill and see how I go.'

  'No. Take the spray.' Fliss scrambled upright. 'I'm going to have to go down to my surgery, Jack. I don't want to be worrying about you getting worse while I'm gone.'

  The lid of the plastic container hit the bench with a rattle. 'You're not going out there!'

  'I have to, Jack!' Fliss straightened her back to reinforce the determination in her tone. 'You know how we saw one of the Johnston twins hiding under that bush? What if he's not hiding?' Concern tightened her voice. 'What if he's hurt and needs help but he's too scared to go looking for someone?'

  Fliss gulped in some air. 'And where's his brother? And what if Maria's waiting for me and she's terrified and she goes into labour? And what about Mr—?'

  Jack held up his hand. 'All right, pet, I get the message.' He stared at Fliss through the gloom of the unlit room. 'But there's no way I'm going to let you go by yourself. I'm coming with you.'

  An eighty-six-year-old with one arm and heart failure as her protector? Fliss almost smiled but had to blink back tears instead. This old man really cared about her safety and she'd almost forgotten what it was like to have someone really care about her. Maybe she couldn't have the man she really needed by her side right now but Jack was better than nothing. A whole lot better than nothing.

  'Let's go, then,' Fliss urged. Now, she added silently, while she had enough courage gathered to turn her back on personal safety.

  'Wait.' Jack scratched his beard thoughtfully. 'You can't go outside like that.'

  'Like what?'

  'All white and.. .kind of glowing. That pretty hair of yours would catch anybody's eye.'

  Fliss did smile now. 'Is that a compliment, Jack? Why, thank you!'

  Jack made a dismissive growling sound. 'If you're mad enough to want to go out there I can't stop you, but you need to cover up. I've got a black hat somewhere. And maybe a jersey or two.'

  'You'll need a hat yourself. Your hair's paler than mine.'

  'What's left of it.' Jack ran his hand over his balding scalp. Then he smiled at Fliss. 'Guess I've compensated by growing fluff on my chin instead, haven't I?' He didn't wait for a response. 'I've got some old fishing gear out the back. I'll see what I can find.'

  'Have you taken that pill yet?'

  'Yes.'

  'And the spray?'

  Grumbling, Jack reached for the small red GTN cannister. 'Bossy, aren't you?'

  'I can be.' Fliss nodded. 'But only when I care about what happens to the people I'm bossing.'

  She should use any skills in that department to try and make her patient heed police advice and stay in his own home, Fliss decided in Jack's absence. Justifying the danger he was prepared to face with the rationale that she would be able to take better care of his current condition by having him with her at the surgery wasn't good enough.

  When Jack returned with an armload of dark clothing, Fliss was ready with her sternest tone.

  'I can go by myself, Jack. I'd much rather you stayed here.'

  'Not on your nelly.' Jack sounded affronted. 'I'll make my own decisions about some things, missy. You can't always get what you want by being bossy, you know.'

  Too true.

  Jack's reprimand hit a nerve. Angus had considered Fliss to be bossy as well. Stubborn. Uncompromising. The expression 'control freak' had surfaced more than once in the escalating arguments that had marred their last few weeks together.

  Did she try and use a position of authority for selfish motives? Had her bossiness really been due to the degree to which she had cared about Angus or had she been more concerned about her personal welfare? Getting what she wanted? Had her training as a doctor, in fact, given her a mistaken belief that she could make choices for others that went beyond medical assistance?

  Fliss was silent, mulling over what she suspected might be an unpleasant home truth as she pulled on a well-worn woollen pullover in a navy-blue fisherman's rib. Jack was struggling into a similar garment and he rolled up the surplus sleeve and tucked it inside the armhole.

  'Blessed nuisance, having two sleeves on everything,' he muttered. 'Nobody caters for the minorities.'

  Fliss smiled briefly at the joke as she took the black knitted beanie Jack handed her. These clothes had to be more than thirty years old—relics from Jack's career as a fisherman—and she could almost smell salt-laden air and the tang of fish.

  Jack scrutinised the finished result but shook his head sadly. 'It's no good,' he announced.

  'Why not?' Fliss jammed the last strands of her shoulder-length, wavy hair unde
r the hat. Then she rolled up the sleeves of the oversized jersey so that her hands were free. 'I think it's great. We're both going to be hard to see if we stick to the shadows.'

  'Your face is too pale. Let me think...' Jack actually seemed to be enjoying himself, Fliss realised with astonishment. His breathing sounded less laboured and he moved more quickly than she had ever seen him when he turned and headed for his pantry. 'I've got just the thing,' he called over his shoulder. 'You wait right here.'

  Fliss peered at the small, round tin in his hand when he reappeared moments later.

  'Boot polish?'

  'Don't knock it till you've tried it. It's what those top-notch police fellows use when they go out on dangerous missions.'

  'They don't use boot polish, Jack.'

  'How would you know?'

  'Because I just do. I...used to know some of those police fellows.'

  'Hmmph.' Jack held out the tin. 'Same difference, in any case. Take the lid off this so I can smear a bit on your face.'

  Fliss couldn't resist muttering something about her not being the only bossy one but then she stood still as Jack wiped polish on her face. She returned the favour, blackening Jack's beard as well as his cheeks. The task suddenly struck her as being ridiculous. Here they were, dressing up like small boys preparing to go and play some kind of war game. What would Angus say if he could see her now?

  He'd probably laugh. And say something like 'Can't beat 'em so you're going to join 'em, huh? Cool. Come out and play with us, then.'

  Except this wasn't any kind of a game. It was real.

  And deadly.

  And Angus, if he was in any way involved tonight, would be even more effectively camouflaged. And Fliss could be quite certain that he wouldn't be laughing.

  'We'll go out the back way,' Jack decided. 'If we go to the top of the hill and then cut back through the Bennies' orchard, go through the back of the cemetery and then over the Carsons' fence, we'll be just about at your place.'

  'But if we go that way, we won't go past the Treffers' place. I need to know whether it's Callum or Cody under that bush, Jack. And whether they're OK.'