Lies That Bind

by Shirley Wine

  ‘Shit!’ Rio punched down the remaining dough with unnecessary force. ‘How did Luke take that?’

  ‘Not well.’ She shook her head, the memory of Luke’s turbulent rage far too clear. ‘Even worse, Rose remembered that they’d all just left their grandparents’ home after dinner, and her father and grandfather having a major row.’

  Rio planted his huge hands palm down on the counter. ‘Is that man somehow involved?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She fiddled with the handle of her mug, keeping her eyes downcast. ‘Luke was ranting and went a bit crazy about it last night.’

  ‘Can’t say that I blame him.’ Rio set the tray of buns on the bench in the sunshine and covered them with a clean tea towel. ‘These need time to prove.’

  Brooke sipped her coffee, moodily watching the big man wash his floury hands and set about cleaning his workspace.

  ‘Are you up to dealing with the police?’

  The abrupt question was so unexpected Brooke gave Rio a startled look. With a heavy sigh she ran a distracted finger around the rim of her coffee mug. ‘I’m not the important one here.’

  ‘Rubbish.’ He crossed the kitchen in two strides and laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘Make no mistake, Brooke; you are the glue holding this damaged family together.’

  ‘My position here is temporary, Rio. Once the kids are back on their feet, my work here is done.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’

  She nodded and shrugged, unable to answer.

  She’d grown fond of Rose and Otto and, although pleased with their progress, she knew this meant that her time here on Whitby Downs was drawing to an end. When Luke’s wards no longer needed her skills, how could she possibly justify staying?

  So where will this leave me? Out in the cold?

  As for Luke—a shiver rippled across her skin.

  Memories of their night sizzled in her blood. Luke was a great lover, better even than she’d imagined, but she wasn’t about to imbue their shared passion with more than it was … Luke and I scratched an itch.

  This thought made Brooke uncomfortable.

  Desperate to banish the unwelcome memories, she asked, ‘Do you have a key to Luke’s den? He broke a glass last night and the debris needs to be cleared away.’

  As a diversion it was a failure. Too clearly, she recalled those intense moments when Luke had turned to her, desperate for comfort as he grappled with the hideous reality that his sister’s death may well not have been a random accident.

  Rio paused in the act of refilling her coffee mug. ‘You know about Luke’s meltdown?’

  ‘Yeah, I do.’ Heat surged through her entire body. Brooke didn’t need a mirror to know that her face would be peony red.

  ‘I see.’ Rio’s grinned, a roguish twinkle in his eyes as he replenished her coffee. ‘It’s done. Luke saw to it before he left.’

  Just what did Rio think he saw? She bent her head and concentrated on her coffee.

  Rio chuckled, the amused sound increasing her confusion. ‘Don’t you worry yourself, Brooke. Luke’s one of the good guys.’

  This brought her head up and as she looked at Rio, she knew he was serious. ‘I do know this.’

  When she first met Luke she’d been wary, but after living in the same house and watching him with Otto and Rose, Brooke knew Luke was a man she could trust.

  ‘Luke asked me to watch your back,’ Rio said abruptly.

  Startled and unsure how to respond, Brooke fiddled with the handle of her mug, avoiding his gaze.

  It was Rio who broke the ensuing silence. ‘So what can I make you for breakfast?’

  Before she could answer she heard her dad’s distinctive shuffling gait moments before he entered the kitchen. She pushed aside the troubling thoughts and greeted him with what she hoped was a sunny smile.

  ‘Morning.’ He stopped by her stool and touched her shoulder.

  ‘You’re up early.’ Brooke rose and gave him a swift hug and an even swifter appraising glance. ‘Rio’s about ready to make breakfast, what would you like?’

  ‘A man could get used to being spoiled like this.’ Frank shuffled across to the breakfast table and sat heavily in one of the chairs. He swiped a hand across his brow. ‘I wish this weather would break, it’s so darn humid.’

  ‘Luke assures me there’s rain on the way.’ Brooke surreptitiously studied her dad, dismayed to realise that he was a little more frail and unsteady on his feet.

  Frank snorted as he looked through the window. ‘Doesn’t look like much rain to me. There’s not a cloud in the sky.’

  ‘The boss reckons he can smell rain.’ Rio carefully placed the milky tea Frank preferred on the table in front of him. ‘I’m not about to argue. I’ve found it never pays to discount a farmer’s sense of smell.’

  ‘Luke’s afraid it may be a gully-washer.’ Brooke traced a fingernail over the pattern on her coffee mug before she looked directly at her father. ‘Dad, Luke asked me to let you know that a detective from the Serious Crash Unit is coming here sometime today to interview Rose and Otto.’

  Frank’s mug hit the table with a loud bang. Scowling, he looked directly at her. ‘Why?’

  ‘Rose has remembered some disturbing details about the crash that killed her parents.’

  ‘Will Luke be here?’

  ‘It depends—’ she worried an already ragged fingernail, ‘—Matt’s organised a big cattle muster and Luke’s being here depends on how smoothly that goes.’

  Frank caught her hand and held it with surprising strength. ‘Are you up to dealing with the cops, Brooke?’

  ‘This isn’t about me; this is about Rose and her memories.’

  ‘Maybe—’ her dad’s voice was as grim as she’d ever heard it, ‘—but if the man they send here starts in on you, Brooke, they’ll have me to deal with.’

  Frank’s fierce protectiveness and unconditional love filled Brooke with warmth and gratitude, but she wished that Rio wasn’t within earshot.

  The big man walked across to the table and stood looking down at them.

  ‘Don’t you fret, Frank,’ Rio’s voice rumbled in the sudden quiet of the kitchen. ‘No-one will bully your girl, I have her back.’

  Startled, Brooke looked up at him.

  The glitter in Rio’s dark eyes, his scowl and the hard set of his jaw wiped out all trace of his usual easy-going manner. This was a man who looked decidedly dangerous.

  A frisson of apprehension slithered down Brooke’s spine. Just who is this man Luke has employed as his housekeeper?

  Chapter Fifteen

  The day that had dawned hot and clear was now filled with a humid, sultry heat that was almost unbearable. Dark clouds lined the horizon, delicately balanced at that point where the sky merged with the pewter grey of the Tasman Sea.

  Before daybreak Luke had told her he could smell rain.

  Now, as she looked at the threatening sky, Brooke believed him. The dry-as-dust land was desperate for rain. What no-one wanted or needed were the Met’s warnings of an extreme weather event. Broadcasters were already dubbing the approaching low pressure system ‘the grandmother of all storms’.

  Looking at the horizon, Brooke knew that Luke’s worries of a gully-washer were more than likely about to become reality.

  Just before noon Luke radioed in to the homestead to let them know that he couldn’t come in. Every able-bodied man was working against the clock shifting stock to higher ground as a precaution. Areas of Whitby Downs were prone to flooding, and this storm was forecast to unleash a deluge.

  Rio took the radio message, and through him, Luke asked Brooke to deputise for him at Rose’s interview. And despite her misgivings, this was one request she couldn’t ignore.

  Damn the man!

  He should be the person to deal with this, not her. Rose was his niece, not hers. Given the choice, Brooke never wanted to talk to another cop, let alone be put in the unavoidable position of dealing one-on-one with a member of that brotherhood.

&nb
sp; After a long, worrying day, it was late afternoon before a plume of dust heralded the arrival of an approaching car.

  ‘Is this the cop?’ Rose sidled closer to Brooke as they stood in front of the window of the small sitting room.

  ‘Most probably.’ Brooke pushed down her own disquiet and looped a protective arm around the girl’s shoulders.

  ‘I’m scared.’

  ‘There’s no need to be afraid. He’s only here to ask you a few questions.’

  ‘What if I’ve made a mistake?’

  The hesitant whisper made Brooke turn to the girl and curve a hand around her pale cheek. ‘Do you think you are wrong?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then there’s nothing for you to worry about, okay?’

  Oh yeah? If there’s nothing to worry about, then why am I shaking in my shoes?

  The car braked and parked near the front gate. The vehicle’s tinted windows prevented Brooke from seeing the driver. She chewed at the inside of her cheek, an old nervous habit she thought she’d vanquished years ago. She willed her shredded nerves to settle. The chances of it being a cop she knew were pretty slim.

  The car door opened and the driver emerged.

  A shocked breath whistled through her teeth and the arm around Rose’s shoulders tightened involuntarily.

  Jackson Dwyer.

  Of all the cops in the county why did it have to be him? Hateful memories tumbled helter-skelter through her mind.

  Rose tugged at her hand. ‘What’s wrong?’

  The girl’s anxious question brought Brooke back to the present. ‘It’s nothing for you to worry about, honey.’

  She gave Rose a reassuring squeeze, silently cursing the unkindness of fate.

  I’m not the important one here, she reminded herself.

  Brooke watched Dwyer stride up the concrete path and disappear from sight. The doorbell rang, the strident sound echoing in the big house. A few moments later she heard Rio’s deep voice mingle with Jackson’s lighter tones.

  The man may be an arsehole, but I can do this. Rose is depending on me.

  A sharp knock on the door and it opened partway. Rio looked in. ‘The detective is here to interview Rose.’

  ‘Show him in,’ Brooke said, taking a slow, deep breath as the door jacked wide and Jackson Dwyer walked into the room.

  He saw Brooke and stopped abruptly. Dark colour flooded up his neck and face, giving his tan a rosy hue.

  ‘Brooke!’ He lifted a hand and let it fall. ‘I didn’t expect you.’

  I’ll just bet you didn’t!

  It may be small-minded of her, but his obvious discomfort was strangely satisfying and Brooke’s nervousness faded. She met his shocked gaze squarely, her nod of acknowledgement brief. ‘Dwyer.’

  Brad Thornton was dead, and so was the past.

  This meeting is not about me, Brad or Dwyer, it’s about Rose.

  ‘Rose, this is Detective Dwyer.’ Brooke gave the girl one more reassuring squeeze.

  Dwyer’s lips thinned, but he recovered quickly and followed Brooke’s lead. ‘Rose, I’m pleased to meet you. You understand that I’m here to talk to you.’

  ‘Yes, I do know.’ Rose shivered and gave Brooke a quick, desperate look. ‘You won’t go away?’

  Brooke touched the girl’s hair with a gentle hand. ‘No, I’ll be right here. Your uncle isn’t back yet.’

  ‘Are you sure you’ll be okay, Brooke?’ Rio folded brawny arms across his chest as he looked from her to the detective.

  Brooke smiled. ‘Rest assured, Rio, I’ll scream for you if I need help.’

  One of Rio’s massive hands fisted. ‘Never fear, missy, I’ll be listening.’

  Dwyer’s lips thinned, his expression clearly unamused. ‘Quite the comedienne, Brooke. For God’s sake, call off your watchdog.’

  Rio stiffened and stepped closer to Dwyer. ‘Just a warning, mate, you’d better make damn sure neither Brooke nor Rose need to call me for help.’

  Brooke laid a hand on Rio’s brawny arm. ‘Rest easy, we will be just fine, won’t we, Detective?’

  ‘I see no reason yet to drag you off in handcuffs.’ Dwyer’s voice was decidedly testy.

  Yet?

  Brooke levelled him a killing glare. It was clear that he had not forgotten.

  Neither have I, Detective, neither have I, but it’s so good to know I’ve shaken your smug self-confidence. Seeing Rio’s glare and Rose’s worried expression, Brooke grinned. She winked at Rio and tightened her grip on Rose’s shoulder. ‘There’s no need to worry, I have Miss Rose right here to protect me.’

  Rose giggled and Rio, after one more keen look, left them, closing the door quietly behind him.

  With a sweep of her hand, Brooke said, ‘Take a seat, Detective.’

  Dwyer turned to the girl and smiled. ‘There’s no need to be nervous, Rose.’

  Rose lifted her delicate chin. ‘I’m not really scared.’

  Brooke felt a surge of protective pride. Rose had courage in spades.

  Dwyer, his manner calm and gentle, smiled at the girl and Brooke’s reservations eased. This man may hate her guts but, first and foremost, he was a professional and Brooke was willing to bet her last dollar that Jackson Dwyer would do nothing to jeopardise either his reputation or his career.

  ‘How about we sit down over there beside the window, Rose,’ Dwyer said quietly, ‘and you can tell me what you’ve remembered about the crash.’

  ‘What about Otto?’ Rose bit her lower lip.

  ‘I will talk to your brother later, but first—’ Dwyer glanced from Rose to Brooke, ‘—where is your uncle? Is it okay with you for Ms Galbraith to be here while we talk?’

  Rose nodded, clinging to Brooke’s hand.

  ‘Luke has been unavoidably detained and he’s asked me deputise for him while you interview Rose,’ Brooke said evenly. ‘Rose is a minor and I’m staying with her, Detective. Deal with it.’

  Brooke guided the girl to the double settee and sat beside her while Dwyer sat in the chair opposite. The light streamed in through the picture window and clearly delineated every crease of his well-worn features.

  Satisfied that she’d made her point, Brooke sat back and let Dwyer take control of the interview.

  He took a small recording device from his pocket, leaned forward and showed the device to Rose. ‘This will record everything we say,’ he explained. ‘When I get back to the office, it will be transcribed. Are you happy for me to record our conversation?’

  ‘Is it like a statement?’

  He nodded. ‘That’s exactly what it is. Recording this interview assures you that everything we say to each other is an accurate record. Your uncle can bring you into the station and you can read your transcribed statement before you sign it.’ He glanced at Brooke, his lip curling in a slight sneer. ‘Ms Galbraith is here as a neutral witness.’

  Brooke’s hand curled into a fist. I will not rise to the bait.

  ‘Okay, let’s do it,’ Rose said, her resigned voice breaking the moment.

  ‘Great idea, sweetie.’ Brooke ignored Dwyer, holding tight to the girl’s hand.

  I need to focus on Rose.

  A peal of thunder rumbled and growled. Brooke glanced out the window and saw the low-bellied clouds looming ever closer. Luke’s assertion that he could smell rain was correct, and thinking about him steadied her.

  Jackson Dwyer was a jerk, and she wasn’t about to allow him to get under her skin.

  ***

  Otto wheeled into the kitchen. He was bored and he was scared. He couldn’t find Brooke or Rose. Frank was snoring his head off in the recliner and Uncle Luke was somewhere out on Whitby.

  Otto felt sick in his stomach.

  Last night Uncle Luke got really upset when Rose told him what she remembered about that crash that killed their mum and dad.

  He couldn’t remember anything much about that, no matter how hard he tried. He could remember his dad putting him in the back seat of their car and tucking a rug arou
nd his legs. The next thing he knew he was waking up in the hospital.

  What he did remember was the fierce argument between his dad and Grandpa, not that they knew he’d listened.

  He’d needed to pee. He’d just finished when he’d heard Grandpa yelling and his dad talking in that cold cutting voice he only used when he was very angry. Curious, Otto had crept along the corridor to listen. And now, he was really scared.

  ‘You okay kid?’ Rio looked up from whatever it was he was mixing in a big white bowl.

  Otto squirmed and fidgeted with the wheel of his chair. ‘Where’s Rose?’

  ‘She’s with Brooke and they’re talking to the cop investigating the crash. Why?’ Rio walked across to the sink and washed his hands then wiped them on the towel hanging at his waist.

  Just thinking about that crash gave Otto a very bad feeling. Should he tell Uncle Luke what he’d overheard?

  What if Grandpa finds out? Will me and Rose end up dead like Mum and Dad?

  ‘Are your legs hurting?’ Rio asked kindly. ‘I haven’t seen you on your crutches much today.’

  ‘Some.’ Otto sighed in frustration. ‘And Frank’s asleep in his chair.’

  Rio’s deep chuckle echoed in the big kitchen. ‘Sometimes life sucks, kid.’

  ‘I’m scared, Rio,’ Otto blurted out, before he had time to chicken out.

  Rio’s laughter faded. In two strides the big man was beside the wheelchair, crouching, and laid a hand on Otto’s leg. ‘Scared about what, Otto?’

  Otto looked into Rio’s craggy face and suddenly he found it easier to breathe. ‘The night we crashed Dad and Grandpa had a humungous fight.’

  Rio frowned and covered Otto’s trembling hand with one of his big paws. ‘Did they know you overheard them?’

  ‘No, I needed to pee.’ Otto hung his head. His Dad had told him he was never to listen to other people’s conversations. It was rude.

  ‘You were curious?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He looked up at Rio and confessed, ‘While I was peeing I heard Grandpa shouting. And Dad, he was real angry.’

  ‘So you crept along to listen?’