by Shirley Wine
Luke winced. ‘A valid point, but why would Dwyer stoop to such tactics? What did he hope to gain?’
‘It was blackmail, pure and simple.’
‘Blackmail?’ Luke leaned forward even further, his expression intent, his knees apart and his hands hanging loosely between them. ‘What possible reason could Dwyer have to blackmail you?’
‘He wanted me to become his lover.’
When Luke just stared at her, shaking his head in disbelief, Brooke clenched her hands until the nails dug into her palms.
‘He very kindly told me,’ she said, emphasising each word with scathing bitterness, ‘that if I co-operated he could make that suicide note disappear.’
Luke exhaled a hissing breath. ‘If not for that note, your name would never have been publicly linked to Thornton’s.’
‘Precisely.’ Brooke looked at Luke without flinching. ‘Dwyer banked on my fear of notoriety to sway me into accepting his sleazy offer.’
‘The bastard!’
‘You won’t get any argument from me.’ She flexed her hands and bent her head, studying them.
‘That’s why you don’t like cops?’
Her head jerked up at that question.
‘Once the suicide note Dwyer planted surfaced,’ she said with a sneer, ‘I was interrogated for hours on end; so no, after that experience I have little time for cops.’
The words hung between them in a silence that grew more and more uncomfortable. Luke’s gaze never wavered and, too aware of it, Brooke felt a bead of sweat trickle down the hollow between her breasts.
What is he thinking?
‘That suicide note,’ Luke said, breaking the tense silence. ‘Didn’t the coroner cast considerable doubt about its authenticity?’
‘He did.’ Brooke rose and walked to the window to look out at the storm clouds that had turned the afternoon sky black. ‘But by the time he raised the issue, the damage to my reputation was done.’
She heard him move and when his hand rested on her shoulder, she stiffened.
‘What do you intend to do about it?’ he asked.
‘Nothing.’ She shrugged, giving him one swift, veiled look. ‘After all this time there’s little point even discussing it.’
‘He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it,’ Luke said, frowning as he turned her to face him. ‘I take it then that you and Dwyer have never been lovers.’
Brooke bristled with indignation before it registered that Luke had made a statement; he’d not asked a question. ‘Is that what he claimed?’
Luke nodded.
‘He’s a liar,’ she said, the words a ringing flat denial. ‘I’d like nothing better than to choke the life out of him!’
‘I was tempted to, believe me.’
‘Luke!’ Brooke lifted a quivering hand to her lips as she stared at him, wide-eyed. ‘You didn’t.’
‘No, but it was a close-run thing.’ He smiled, a slow grin that made his vivid eyes sparkle.
Brooke had a brief glimpse of a younger, more carefree man. ‘How did he react?’
Luke rubbed his hands together. ‘He backed off, real fast.’
‘He’s a cop, you should have been more careful.’
Luke’s hand curved around her cheek. ‘He was slandering my lady and I wasn’t about to stand there and allow him to do so.’
She covered his hand with hers, too choked up with emotion to speak. ‘He is vindictive. You need to take care.’
‘I doubt if he’ll try anything. From what little he said, I gather he’s up for promotion.’
‘Rest assured, Jackson Dwyer would never do anything to jeopardise his career.’
Luke rocked back on his heels, his thumbs hooked in the front pocket of his jeans. ‘You sure about that?’
His deepening frown made Brooke nervous. ‘What are you getting at?’
‘If he did fabricate that suicide note, he must be aware of your suspicions.’
‘He knows all right,’ she said bitterly. ‘I left him in little doubt of my suspicions.’
‘Then this knowledge must hang over his head like the sword of Damocles.’
Nerves did a serious jitterbug in her gut, matching the rapid race of her heart. ‘Meaning?’
Luke’s grim expression wasn’t reassuring. ‘Has it occurred to you that a cop with a guilty secret is vulnerable?’
What was Luke suggesting? That her presence here was endangering Rose and Otto? Did he think that her association with Jackson Dwyer could impact on the investigation into his sister’s death?
The thought chilled Brooke to the marrow before it was erased by a flood of anger. Where did he get off? There was no blame about this situation that could be laid at her door. She was merely an innocent bystander caught up in someone else’s mess.
‘You’re becoming paranoid,’ she said sharply.
‘Maybe.’ He scowled at her. ‘You forget that I have bloody good reason after living for years on the edge of danger.’
‘That was your choice,’ she countered, fast becoming impatient. ‘Didn’t you try to convince me that Duncan McLellan was too crafty to try anything illegal?’
‘He’s cunning. And any man prepared to engineer the death of his own son is dangerous.’
She stared at him, clutching a hand at her throat.
‘Do you really think—’ She broke off, horrified.
‘It’s beginning to look like it.’ Luke’s grim expression was telling. ‘If McLellan is determined that whatever it was that Ian discovered about him remains covered up, he will stop at nothing to ensure it never sees the light of day.’
Brooke’s legs gave out and she sank into a chair. ‘Dwyer?’
‘Has a guilty secret—’ Luke’s lips thinned, ‘—and that leaves him open to blackmail.’
‘How could Ian’s father know anything about this?’
‘The same way I’ve figured it out,’ Luke said with exaggerated patience. ‘McLellan approached you in Sweetwater?’
She nodded, her hands writhing restlessly in her lap.
‘Then you can bet your bottom dollar he’s investigated your association with Thornton. To him, this would be easier than taking candy from a baby.’
‘And from there, it’s no big leap to ferret out Dwyer’s involvement in that case.’ Brooke stared at him in horrified comprehension.
‘Precisely.’
Luke spelled it out for her: ‘McLellan is a lawyer. He knows how to access police and coronial records through official channels without raising any undue suspicion.’
Brooke bowed her head.
The implication was clear. McLellan could use her association with Dwyer to skew the investigation into his son’s death.
‘What will you … can you do?’ The stammer betrayed her nervousness.
Luke stared at her.
She swallowed hard, but the lump in her throat didn’t budge.
He radiated menace. And in that instant, she understood that he was one formidable enemy. Brooke could almost feel sorry for Duncan McLellan.
Almost.
Chapter Eighteen
Luke toed off his boots, shrugged out of his oilskin and sou’wester and hung the dripping garments on a peg in the mudroom. He was soaked to the skin and chilled to boot. For hour after brutal hour he, and every available hand, had worked in drenching rain to move cattle and sheep to higher ground and off Whitby Downs’ fertile but flood-prone river flats.
After such a prolonged period of drought, the rain was welcome. Now the men feared there could well be too much of a good thing. A damaging gully-washer was fast becoming a reality.
The river level was steadily rising.
Every dip and dimple in the bone-dry land was channelling surface water. Usually gentle streams and mild waterways were now raging torrents. An hour ago the Waingaro River had breached its banks. Yellow, clay-stained water now rampaged across lowlying land, sweeping away every obstacle in its path.
Overhead, lightning flashed in lurid streak
s and thunder grumbled across leaden skies. Matt and Luke had called a halt. It had become far too dangerous for men and horses to continue working. The men were more than ready to head back to the bunkhouse, dry clothes and hot food.
Would the measures they’d taken be sufficient to prevent catastrophic animal casualties? That was a question for tomorrow and Mother Nature.
Luke strode down the central hallway of the rambling farmhouse, relishing the thought of the hot shower with his name on it.
The strident ring of the telephone halted him mid-step. He picked up the receiver and growled, ‘Calloway.’
‘You slimy, double-crossing bastard!’
Luke held the receiver away from his ear and looked at it. A feral grin twisted his lips and, ignoring the water pooling from his sodden clothing onto the polished wooden floor, he said softly, ‘Good afternoon to you too, Duncan.’
McLellan ignored the pleasantry, spluttering furiously, ‘Where do you get off? Filling our grandchildren’s heads with such vile lies?’
Luke stiffened and his eyes narrowed. ‘Lies?’
Much as he disliked standing back twiddling his thumbs, Luke had heeded the police warnings and thought it wiser not to initiate any contact with his sister’s in-laws. But now that Duncan McLellan had contacted him, Luke wasn’t averse to doing a little prodding.
‘Vicious lies. Why else have we had the police here asking questions? Of all the infernal cheek.’
Luke grinned. I wish I’d been a fly on the wall during that interview.
The older man’s anger and indignation fairly singed the phone lines.
‘Have you considered that the police interest stems from your very convenient lapse of memory?’ Luke said.
‘What the hell do you mean by that?’
Luke’s slow, deep breaths did little to cool the deep-seated fury bubbling beneath his surface calm. ‘Rattle your memory cells, old man,’ he said through his teeth. ‘I’m sure you’ll figure it out.’
‘Very funny, but you may notice I’m not laughing.’
Luke flinched and closed his eyes. ‘Neither were Ian and Jenn when their car was run off the road.’
The ensuing silence was broken by a muttered oath. ‘What the hell are you getting at?’
Too easily, Luke could visualise McLellan’s calculating expression. The man was one cold, unfeeling son-of-a-bitch, and so smugly confident that he was untouchable.
Stay out of it, Luke. You’re too closely involved …
Brooke’s warning doused his anger. It was replaced by wary caution. Luke was no fool and, being firmly on the outside, he had no way of knowing where the cops were in their investigation.
I can’t afford to stuff things up.
‘You tell me. Apparently it’s you the cops are interested in, not me.’
‘Why have you filled those kids’ heads with lies? What do you hope to gain?’
Uh oh! I need to be careful.
‘Lies? I haven’t the faintest clue what you’re talking about.’
There were several beats of silence. ‘The detective who came here said he’d interviewed Ian’s kids.’
‘He did, but I wasn’t here when he interviewed Rose. I was working.’ Luke wasn’t about to mention Otto and he hoped Duncan didn’t ask.
‘Do you expect me to believe that?’
‘I have no influence over what you choose to believe.’
The evenness of his tone and the indifference of the words inflamed McLellan. The hiss of his harshly indrawn breath was clearly audible.
‘So who was the impartial witness, that Galbraith woman? I don’t like her near my grandchildren, do you hear? I don’t like it and I won’t have it.’
Luke gripped the back of his neck as he struggled to master his anger. ‘That is not your call to make, McLellan. I am the guardian of my niece and nephew. Ms Galbraith is not your concern.’
‘Isn’t she? Don’t try telling me that whore isn’t warming your bed.’
Luke’s hand fisted, but there was no way he would give the old goat the satisfaction of knowing his barb had hit home.
‘Ms Galbraith is a physiotherapist, McLellan, highly qualified and very skilled. Thanks to her, Rose and Otto are well on the way to a full recovery.’
McLellan’s snorted. ‘She’s highly qualified, all right! But you’d know that better than anyone, wouldn’t you?’
The innuendo raised the hairs on Luke’s arms. He bit down on his lower lip to stem the angry words. He refused to dignify such slander with a response.
‘She’s a bad influence on our grandchildren,’ McLellan spluttered when the silence stretched, ‘and that, Calloway, makes it very much our concern. Do you hear me?’
‘Loud and clear, old man. Or could it be that you don’t want your grandchildren to recover?’ Luke asked, his voice chilling.
There were several beats of tense silence.
‘That’s a foul thing to say,’ Duncan spluttered. ‘But I guess it suits your twisted agenda.’
‘What the hell are you smoking? Happy baccy?’
‘No, I leave that up to you, after all you’re the expert in that field.’
The flat statement held a wealth of quiet menace. Luke’s hand clenched on the receiver.
What the hell did McLellan think he knew?
Luke, working undercover, had infiltrated and brought down an entire gang network dealing in the manufacture, distribution and sale of methamphetamine. After the sting had gone down, Luke had needed a place where he could drop out of sight, and this was the main reason he’d hired on at Whitby in the first place.
This information was strictly classified. The gang was yet to stand trial, so how had McLellan come by this information?
‘Not so cocky now, Calloway?’
‘If I were you, McLellan—’ Luke’s voice dropped, the low register filled with lethal menace, ‘—I’d be more concerned to explain why your son and his wife were killed within minutes of leaving your home.’
The quality of the silence on the other end of the line changed. ‘What the hell are you suggesting?’
‘Why didn’t you tell me that Jenn and Ian had dined with you the night they crashed?’
‘It wasn’t your concern.’
‘No?’ Luke gave a scornful bark of laughter. ‘And what about that argument you had with Ian?’
‘I have no idea what you’re on about.’
‘Don’t you? Tell me, McLellan, what did Ian have on you? You see, the police are well aware that you threatened him, that you were overheard telling him you’d see him dead before he could expose you.’
The accusation was met with a few beats of silence before McLellan screamed, ‘Go to hell!’
The receiver slammed in Luke’s ear. He winced and carefully replaced his own receiver on its cradle.
Shaking his head, he closed his eyes.
Fool, fool, fool!
I’m a goddam fool. Why the hell didn’t I just hang up on the old bastard?
Luke stood as if turned to stone, replaying that entire conversation, his thoughts in freefall.
What had he done?
Hearing a sound, he opened his eyes and found himself looking directly into Brooke’s eyes, dark with concern.
How much of that conversation did she overhear?
‘Who was that?’ She laid her hand on his arm.
Luke grimaced and covered her hand with his. ‘McLellan.’
She sighed softly, indication enough that she’d overheard his side of the conversation.
‘I let him get to me.’
‘So I gathered.’
He shook off her hand, muttering, ‘I need a shower.’
***
Brooke hesitated, unsure what to do or say, as she watched Luke stride down the hallway and disappear into his bedroom. He didn’t need to be alone right now. He had to feel bad about challenging Duncan McLellan.
And they needed to talk.
She tapped on his door. There was no response. Tentativ
ely, she tried the handle and the door opened.
Luke stood motionless in the centre of the room. His dejected stance twisted at her heart. Closing the door noiselessly, she crossed to his side and gripped his arm. His muscles were taut beneath the wet fabric of his shirt.
‘What is it?’ she asked, concerned.
He looked at her, his vivid eyes desolate. ‘You warned me to step back. Now I’ve blown it. I let McLellan get to me.’
Her grip on his arm tightened. ‘Not necessarily.’
Luke faced an impossible dilemma.
On the one hand he wanted to see justice done for his sister and her husband, and on the other, his hands were tied because he was too close to the case. She ached for him. If she stood in his shoes, Brooke knew she would have lost it long before now.
‘You haven’t blown it,’ she murmured. ‘This may be a good thing?’
‘Tell me how?’
She chose her words carefully. ‘McLellan phoned you?’
Luke nodded. ‘And immediately he accused me of filling the kids’ heads with lies.’
Relief vied with amused concern. Luke was so close to this that he couldn’t see the wider picture. ‘Then you have no real need to worry.’
‘What makes you so sure?’
‘It’s obvious that McLellan now knows that Rose and Otto have remembered disturbing details of that crash—’
‘Details he could only have learned from the police,’ Luke said, his brow knotting in a frown.
‘Precisely, and now that you’ve added your suspicions to the mix, I’m betting that McLellan may well panic and betray his part in all of this.’
A slow smile chased away the shadows in his eyes. ‘What would I do without you to set me straight?’
‘You would get there.’ She smiled at him. ‘Granted it may take you a little longer, but your heart is in the right place and you’d get there in the end.’
‘Once I’d have taken issue with you, told you that I don’t have a heart. Now—’ he broke off shaking his head. ‘What have you done to me?’
‘Me?’ Brooke gave a little laugh.
‘You.’ He caught her hand and lifted it to his lips. ‘You’re the only person I could turn to, and you’ve held my hand and guided my very shaky steps through this nightmare.’