Thrown off balance by her demand, he narrowed his gaze, even as his arms lightly encircled her waist. “Are you trying to distract me?”
She tensed at the contact and drew a jerky breath. “We're being watched.”
“Is it Ames?” Senses jumped to high alert and he wished he didn't have his back to the house.
She peeped over his shoulder and the purple streak of her hair tickled his nose. He rather liked both the look and the sensation.
“I can't see who it is.”
Wary of pushing her boundaries, he moved his arms to her shoulders and lowered his head. More than that he wouldn't risk. From the house, it would appear they were kissing as he continued speaking. “Your teeth are chattering. Let's go in. I'll slip out late tonight and scout around, see if I can find anything.”
“What about the cameras? How will you get past them?”
He shrugged and released his hold on her body, keeping only her hand in his as they ambled back to the house. “Working on it.”
Chapter Seven
Wriggling her toes in pleasure, Sarah tucked the doona under her chin and flipped onto her side. “I feel bad you're on the floor. Are you sure—?” She knew what his answer would be and part of her welcomed Caleb's gallantry. Not that she needed looking after. Feeling lousy wasn't an excuse to demand some mythical rights to the only bed. But a tiny part of her revelled in the soft pillow beneath her aching head and the warm cocoon of bedding.
She felt safe.
A triangle of light from the security lighting slashed across Caleb as he lay on the rug beside the bed, one arm folded behind his head. “I'm sure. What would that make me if I let you take the floor while I enjoyed the comfort of a soft mattress?”
“Human?”
He chuckled softly. “I not sure I prefer that to being labelled safe.”
“Believe me, I meant it as a compliment. I wouldn't say that to most men I know.”
“You speak as though you've had a bad experience. Did Ames do anything, say something before I arrived?”
“Nothing I haven't seen before. I can handle him.” Like she'd handled others before and would handle those that followed. Females advanced with care in an industry filled with male elitist attitudes.
It was just when Ames tried to corral her in the stall, her mind had flashed back to Campbell blocking the pantry door, his heavy thighs and stomach hanging over the low-slung belt filling her vision. Unsure what he wanted but fearing him all the same.
She blinked to clear the sight and coughed.
Caleb sat up, his head level with hers. The blanket slipped to his waist revealing he slept without a pyjama top and her surprised gaze roamed muscles she'd only guessed at. As he turned to face her, the security lighting that had revealed his torso silhouetted him and she could no longer see his expression.
“Does Ames remind you of someone. Who?”
Her guard shot up. Relaxing around a policeman was impossible. Especially this one. Caleb saw way too much. Deduced the rest.
“Butt out of my life, Detective.”
“It helps to talk. Especially about things that give you nightmares still.”
“Who said I have nightmares?”
“We slept together last night. Remember?” She caught the gleam of his teeth and could picture the grin on his face.
“Don't you dare say that outside of this room.” He wouldn't. In the short time they'd spent together, she already knew that about him. Lizzy Carter was always right in her assessment of people. Caleb had a solid core of decency that made him dangerous. But trusting him, even a little, made her vulnerable and she'd never allow that.
“Oh, I promise it goes no further.”
She waited for him to say more. Finally, his silence compelled her to ask.
“What do you imagine you heard?” Had she talked in her sleep? Her heart thudded harder. Please no, she hadn't given away her shameful secret. Nobody could know what Campbell had done, where he'd touched her.
“No imagination needed. You mumbled at someone to let you out. It's clear you don't like being in confined spaces.”
“Is that it? Really, Detective, I thought you'd make some in-depth observation. Everyone knows I love the great outdoors.”
“True.”
Gentle teasing aside, she was glad that was all Caleb had heard. All she'd said. Campbell's actions had affected too many aspects of her life; she needed to put away the memory of his attempt to—
“Who was the man who trapped you?”
“What?” Chest tight, her lungs struggled to pull in air. Impossible Caleb could know. Impossible he had guessed but her secret reared up between them like a snake. Fear threw up the old defensive walls. “No one. It's a bad dream, that's all. Don't tell me you've never had one.”
“Not since I was a kid.”
“I. . . don't react well to medication. Maybe that's what gave me the nightmare.”
“Perhaps.” He lay down and light revealed a knowing, compassionate look before he closed his eyes. “It's okay to have bad dreams, Sarah, but don't let the past keep affecting your future.”
“I'm not.” I won't. Curling into a ball away from Caleb, she stared at a triangle of light patterning the wall. There was light and there was hope.
##
Caleb tossed back the covers and pushed to his feet. Sarah's snores would have kept him awake even if he hadn't set his alarm for midnight. He wondered if she snored when she didn't have a cold as he pulled on jeans, a black hoodie and joggers. He checked the door to the hallway was locked before quietly letting himself out via the sliding door onto sandstone pavers that ran the length of the building.
A few bushes provided broken cover but charting a course to avoid the CCTV was tricky. He headed north, skirting the modern workers' quarters. A single dim light glowed in the common room and occasional snores filtered out. Three hundred straight metres to the stables in daylight were nothing like the tense, roundabout route he took. Faint light from the sickle moon helped him avoid the boxes of empty beer bottles on the far side of the building. Fifty metres of open ground lay between the living quarters and the stable.
He entered via the tack room, the only spot he'd identified not covered by a camera and slipped into the manager's office. Miles from anywhere, Ames's security precautions were modern, state-of-the-art cameras, and yet the stables and office were unlocked.
It was too easy. Conspiracy theories sprang into Caleb's mind; did Ames suspect them and decide to set them up? Was he confident they would snoop and, finding nothing, cross him off the suspect list?
Penlight clamped between his teeth, Caleb skimmed files and papers. Unsure what he hoped to find, he rifled through a set of drawers before moving on to the safe. Close examination convinced him it was beyond his safe-cracking skills. And he needed legitimate, admissible evidence.
He turned off the torch and eased the door open. Low male voices and a pair of shadowy figures entering the tack room alerted him just in time. He pushed the office door closed and merged into the shadows behind the desk, praying these intruders weren't on the same mission as he was.
They moved past the office. Horses whickered softly at the disturbance caused by their passage along the central aisle. Slowly, Caleb cracked open the door. The men had stopped almost opposite the short leg of the T branch. Near Tabitha's stall.
“Put it in with her oats.” Were they referring to Sarah's horse? Why? And what were they adding? The voice was unrecognisable, but he hadn't met most of the workers. He opened the door far enough to peer around the jamb. A torch beam glinted off Tabitha's oats bucket as one of the men lifted it over the rail into her stall. “Come on. He said not to stick around once the job was done. Let's get out of here.”
Pressed hard against the office wall, Caleb watched through a narrow crack as the men left. Curious and going with his instinct, he followed them to the outside door. They didn't return to the workers' quarters but headed off on foot over the low hill behind the
stables. Later, he'd pick them out of a line-up. He'd seen enough to recognise both men, but now he had to stop Tabitha eating whatever they added to her feed.
Conscious of the cameras, Caleb scooped another bucket of oats from the feed bin and carried it to Tabitha's stall. The mare had her nose in the bucket and seemed unhappy when he shooed her away. He substituted the clean feed, gave her a pat and apologised for interrupting her meal, before carrying the tainted oats back to the tack room. There would be prints on the bucket and the contents might reveal the motive behind what appeared to be the attempted poisoning of Sarah's horse. He wrapped it, bucket and oats, in a hessian sack and worked his way back to his four wheel drive, not entirely convinced he'd be undetected by the cameras. But he had to try.
Quietly, he locked the evidence away and huffed out a breath that curled up in a white cloud as he tipped his head to the heavens. Bright, cold stars in a clear sky. More of the same weather on the way. Tough enough with the wind adding to the hardship of the endurance ride.
But it looked as though someone didn't want Sarah to finish.
Which made him determined to help her see it through.
Chapter Eight
“How are you feeling?” Caleb eased alongside as Sarah rode Tabitha through long, dry grass up to her fetlocks.
In truth, she felt lousy, aching deep in her bones, and gritty-eyed despite last night's comfortable bed, courtesy of Caleb. The southerly wind blew dust in her eyes and into her clothes and her nose was blocked. But at least she was riding again. “Chipper, Detective. See anything on your last detour?”
“Nothing. The Townsville office was so sure Sir Alain had been sent west but we haven't heard a whisper about him.” Disgust tinged his tone. “Any suggestions?”
“Make that ute fly like ‘Chitty Chitty Bang Bang’?”
“Very helpful, thank you, Ms. Tait. Aerial surveillance might be the only way. But since my car isn't magical and Tabitha isn't Pegasus, I'll just have to keep looking for that horse on land-bound four wheels.”
Sarah raised her canteen to her lips and chugged down a big drink, grateful she didn't have to make her water last the entire day. Caleb's offer to share his water supply with her was proving an unexpected advantage. “I'll refill at lunch. Between the wind and this rotten cold, I'm thirsty all the time.”
“Let's make an early stop for coffee. I need to radio in. Kaiser isn't going to be happy I missed last night.”
“Are we far enough away from Northern Downs?”
“You make a show of putting on the kettle and I'll make the call. That way, if there are eyes on us, they won't see anything out of the ordinary. Deal?”
“Deal.” She rode Tabitha to the meagre shelter of a stand of small trees and dismounted.
Caleb parked and unloaded the coffee things and a camp chair. He handed her the filled kettle, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Have a break. I won't be long.”
“Sure. Thanks.” She lit the primus stove and placed the kettle over the gas flame. Even in the relative shelter of the trees the flame wavered wildly. Moving it carefully as close to the four wheel drive as she could, she relit the stove before flopping into the chair. Leaning back she closed her eyes, the hiss of gas a soothing background noise.
“. . . attempted poisoning of Tabitha.”
Sarah sat up with a start. Had she nodded off? She checked the water in the kettle. Not boiling yet.
Glen Kaiser's voice crackled out, overloud and angry. “I had reservations about putting you on this case, Richards. Don't go soft on her now because of one incident that may well be part of a set up.”
“No, sir. I'm keeping my eyes open.”
And so am I.
Sarah covered her mouth with her knuckled fist. Eavesdropping, even unintentionally, was all the wake-up call she needed. Going soft on Caleb, thinking he might be different—safe, for God's sake!—was a mistake. How could she have let down her guard so easily?
First and foremost, Caleb was a police officer on duty. He wasn't her friend. His superior believed she was involved in the horse-napping. Why wouldn't Caleb believe it too?
The kettle whistled. Operating on autopilot, she made two mugs of coffee and carried hers over to Tabitha. Patting the mare's dusty neck, she sipped the hot, bitter brew. The sooner she got rid of Caleb Richards, the better for everyone.
##
“I'll meet you about ten kilometres ahead, a bit past that spur.”
Caleb indicated a point that, to her fuzzy mind, might as well have been the moon.
“Lunch will be ready by the time you get there.”
She nodded, not trusting the desire building inside to tell him exactly where he could go.
Caleb gave her a searching look before slowly accelerating away.
Wind whipped up by the dust of his departure swirled around her. Tipping her Akubra low over her eyes, she and Tabitha trudged on, certain Caleb was on a wild goose chase. Her presence hadn't unearthed anything more than a question about Jenner's purchase of Aladdin and Ames's interest in the problem horse.
Not a word of Sir Alain had been heard in either Jenner's or Ames's stables.
Sarah shivered at the memory of hostility in Kaiser's voice. Caleb's suggestion that the attempted poisoning of her horse indicated someone thought they were too close had drawn nothing but disbelief from his chief. And he was dismissive of Caleb's actions. Convinced the thoroughbred had been sent west, Caleb had made forays either side of her route looking for tracks or a remote holding yard.
Given the odds of finding a horse in the vast wilderness of the region were remote, impossible really, why was Caleb persisting? Did he believe her, or was there another reason he left her, only to reappear at odd times?
Dissecting that conversation brought her black dog raging back. Kaiser didn't believe her. So why would Caleb? Daughter and sister of convicted criminals, wasn't she automatically tarred with the same brush?
Perhaps Caleb's kindness was no more than a ploy to lull her into trusting him and accidentally revealing information. The more she thought about it, the more likely it seemed. Like a fool, she'd opened up a little, trusted a little that he was different. But what if he sought only to trap her?
Loneliness weighed her down, sat on her shoulders like a bird of prey waiting to pounce.
If only she could find Sir Alain, restore him to his rightful owner and show Caleb—show them all—that not all Taits broke the rules. Some Taits cared about others. She cared.
Biting her lip—she would not give in to damnable weak tears—she trotted up an incline towards the spur Caleb had pointed out. The whistling kettle pinpointed his position before she saw the makeshift camp. With a quick swipe of her glove over her cheeks, she dismounted and tied Tabitha to a low, scrubby tree. Hints of pink on the tips of thin branches held the promise of colour as winter petered out. They didn't make her feel better. Nothing would make her feel better.
But she had a role to play. Letting the detective know she was onto him achieved nothing.
Caleb dragged the camp chairs from the back of the ute and opened them as Sarah approached the gas stove. “Coffee's ready. Grab a seat.”
It all looked so normal. So . . . friendly. Studying Caleb's face, she was certain she detected a watchfulness. They weren't friends.
She knew better.
“Thanks. See anything?” Knowing their task was impossible, still she played the game. Sounded interested.
“No. I'll see if I can convince Kaiser to charter a spotter plane.”
“You could ask the Flying Doctor to keep an eye out during their regular flights.”
“I'll put that through official channels. Here.” He handed her a mug.
Grabbing the tip of a gloved finger between her teeth, she pulled off one glove and curled her bare hand around the mug. It burned against her cold skin and she welcomed the sting of each prickle of heat.
Cosy and intimate and friendly as it appeared, Caleb's company didn't mean she wasn
't alone. It was Sarah Tait against the world.
Tabitha snorted as though reading her mind and Sarah blinked away moisture.
Yes, my beauty. Sarah and Tabitha against the world.
##
Feeling bad for not taking Sarah’s place, Caleb had watched her head out on the afternoon leg. She'd been very quiet over lunch, almost monosyllabic, and had eaten little. He should have insisted on riding Tabitha and letting Sarah drive but she wouldn't hear of it. Merely asked what was for dinner and said she'd meet him at the campsite.
Admiring her determination to soldier on, he'd decided to leave her to it and go on ahead. Continuing to drive in circles around her was achieving nothing, but he could cook a decent meal to tempt her tonight.
With little to occupy him while dinner baked in the coals as he waited for Sarah, he took out his tablet and added notes on the case. Theories derived from the Fine Cotton affair came from Sarah but the idea of hiding a horse in plain sight made sense. One thing about that idea worried him; was it even possible to dye a black horse to look white?
Sarah's explanation seemed simple. If any black showed through, it could be explained away by the fact that a grey horse had black skin beneath the white hairs.
He took the photo of Sir Alain from the file notes and placed it beside the photo of Aladdin he'd snapped on his phone. Looking from one to the other, he had no idea. How did one see beyond the glossy black coat of the missing horse to discover the white—he couldn't get his head around calling it a grey—of Aladdin? Sarah had identified similarities between the two horses but, without having seen a mature Sir Alain, she wasn't sure.
Glen Kaiser had implied otherwise in their discussion before Sarah had brought his coffee at morning tea.
Put aside your certainties for the moment, Richards, and think of possible motives. A woman in her position could make good money helping them cover up the switch. Push her on it.
At the time Caleb had wondered if Sarah had heard any of the conversation but she'd said nothing. Not even one of her smart-mouthed comments.
Long Way Home (Hearts of the Outback Book 3) Page 7