by Mandy Magro
‘No, you must take what you need to get to where you’re going,’ said Abby, eyeing the men warily and taking small steps towards the carriage. She reached up and took Harold’s trembling hands, squeezing them between her own. ‘I cannot thank you enough, Harold, for having the courage to save my life.’
Harold blushed. ‘I couldn’t let him manhandle you another moment longer, Mrs Barrington. Mr Barrington has left you bruised too many times before and today I thought he was actually going to kill you. You deserve better than him.’
Abby smiled warmly, her eyes filled with understanding. ‘You are a hero, Harold. My hero.’
Harold’s lips quivered. ‘That means more to me than you’ll ever know.’ Blinking wet eyes, he added, ‘If only I was older, Mrs Barrington, I would’ve had a chance to show you how much love my heart holds for you.’
Abby patted his hand. ‘Oh, bless you, Harold. The lass you wed will be a very lucky one indeed.’
‘Right.’ William smacked his hands on his thighs. ‘Now is not the time for sweet talking, we have ourselves a body to be rid of.’
‘And some money to divide up,’ Joey hollered from within the carriage. He stuck his head out, grinning broadly. ‘There’s lots of it if we go by the heaviness of this strongbox. Enough to set us all up nicely, including Harold here!’ He dropped the trunk to the ground with a thud, leaving a cloud of dust hovering momentarily. Then, pulling his gun from its holster, he fired one shot and the lock shattered into tiny pieces, allowing him easy access to the treasures within.
Abby joined Joey, tenderly touching his arm. ‘It will be my pleasure to show you where there is a lot more. Lord only knows why one man needed so much to live his life.’ She turned to face Joey, cupping his cheeks. ‘But, only as long as you take me with you, wherever it is you’re going, to keep me safe, that is.’
Joey puffed his chest out, fearlessness emanating from him. ‘It would be my absolute pleasure, Miss Abby.’
William choked back another chuckle. ‘Come on then, lads, let’s get a move on. I, too, have me a fine woman to go fetch. Then I am taking option two, and heading up north.’ He pointed to the open trunk, its contents shimmering in the sunlight. ‘I reckon I’ve finally enough to buy a piece of dirt, put some cattle on it, and call it my own. As do you men. There’s plenty enough to go around. Just keep in mind, while we divide it up, that we have to give a portion of this back to the farmers Barrington stole from.’
Holding on tightly to the edges of her dressing table, her body trembling and her mouth watering, Anne heaved her dinner of chicken soup and bread into the pail she had been clutching all day. When was this incapacitating sickness going to stop? She felt as though she had nothing left to expel, and yet it kept coming, the waves of nausea seizing her body and making it impossible for her to fulfil the roles expected of her at the hotel and butchery.
Slowly, she eased herself down to sit on the corner of her bed, the flickering light from the candle allowing her a glimpse of her reflection. The dark shadows under her eyes and colourless sunken cheeks made her acknowledge she looked terrible. She must see the doctor first thing in the morning to find out if what she had was life threatening, and if not, what she could take to make it better. She couldn’t go on like this; two weeks of being ill had left her weak and gaunt. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if to curb the ache in her heart, and hot tears slid down her cheeks as she thought of William. Oh, how she wished he were here to hold her, to care for her, to help her feel better. She hadn’t seen him in two months and she was beginning to wonder if he was still alive, the thought of him lying dead somewhere almost too much to bear.
A loud rap at the door pulled her attention from the mirror. Grimacing, she stood and clutched her belly, then took a few unstable steps forward, feeling as though she was aboard a ship sailing on rough seas. She fought the urge to faint. Clutching the handle and taking a few shuddering breaths, she slowly unlocked the door.
Sergeant Hocking crashed into her boudoir, slamming the door behind him. He knocked her back and slid his tongue sickeningly over his lips. He fell to the floor on top of her, straddling her, his hands reaching for her breasts as he tore open her bodice, the stench of stale alcohol repulsing her. Somehow she found the energy to arch her back and flip him off. She scrabbled backwards, terrified, finding herself cornered between Hocking and the bedroom wall. Something in his malevolent eyes told her he had come for one thing, and he was determined to get it. She tried to call for help, but only a whimper escaped as he lurched towards her and covered her mouth with one hand, the other holding a knife to her throat, the point of it digging painfully into her flesh. She could feel blood trickling down her neck. Defeated by illness and fearing for her life, she surrendered to him, her arms limp at her sides, her spirit screaming in silent agony as she began to weep.
‘If you dare scream for help I will slit your throat like a pig going to slaughter, like I did that family. You should have heard them all squeal when I did it, too,’ hissed Hocking, laughing sardonically as he frantically pulled at her skirt. He dragged the heavy cloth up towards her hips, ripping it with his knife when it got caught, grazing her skin. She refused to flinch, bearing the pain with clenched teeth.
Hocking’s hands fumbled greedily as he clutched the sides of her undergarments and cut them off, grunting as her womanhood was exposed. He undid his belt and pulled down his trousers, then halted, squeezing Anne’s cheeks painfully and pulling her gaze towards his. ‘You hold your tongue, lassie, don’t blabber to anyone. I have evidence in my saddlebags that will link William — and you — to that murder. Both of you will endure the feeling of the noose around your neck and the trapdoor opening beneath you.’ He sniggered. ‘No stupid bastard has thought to look in the respectable sergeant’s saddlebags for evidence now, have they? The dimwits! Now ain’t I a clever man? How could you not find me appealing, Miss Anne Willows?’
Anne squeezed her eyes shut, tears trickling down her cheeks, willing Hocking’s moans from her ears as he began to have his way with her. Her suspicions of him being the murderer were finally confirmed. Refusing to fight, as she knew that would only excite him, she lay deathly still and said a silent prayer, pleading for God to make it end quickly.
CHAPTER
7
2012 — Far North Queensland
The gentle afternoon breeze carried with it the sweet scent of frangipanis. Taylor threw her arms in the air and squealed delightfully as she leapt from her Jeep and ran barefoot over the hot bitumen and the grass embankment towards the gentle waves of the secluded part of the beach she’d discovered. She took pleasure in the feeling of the earth beneath her feet. This part of the beach felt like her very own, a place where she could shut off from the rest of the world and regather her energies. Her little slice of heaven, which was well needed, considering her head-spinning introduction to the Driftwood community.
Over the past couple of weeks she’d basically met everyone who lived in or around Driftwood, and then some: the Southern Star Hotel was very popular with locals and travellers alike. Other than Col, Faith and Zoe, there was a handful of residents Taylor had really warmed to, like Beryl, the town busybody who also ran the post office-slash-chemist-slash-corner store; Jasmine, a barmaid with a bun in the oven and a foul-mouthed but loveable husband, Wes; and Cooper Harrison, a local stockman who kept trying to ask her out — one of these days she might give in and accept, as he was kind of cute. However, there was one local she hadn’t seen again since arriving and she couldn’t help but wonder when he would appear again, the memory of his gorgeous face sticking in her mind’s eye like bees on honey: the dreamy Jay Donnellson. Col had casually mentioned it was strange that Jay hadn’t been into the pub recently and Taylor couldn’t help wondering if she was the reason he was avoiding it.
As she began the descent into Coral Bay with its sparkling aqua-blue water, the grass gave way to fine white sand. Breathing the salty sea air in deeply, she took in the glorious scene
ry; the coast seemed to stretch on forever and the beach was generously scattered with driftwood. When Taylor had asked why there was so much, Faith had excitedly explained to her that the residents chose to leave it where it came to rest, as it was the perfect shelter for birds, plants and other creatures. Col had then explained that the driftwood was also a perfect tourist attraction and the money the tourists spent here was what kept the town afloat.
Taylor neared the water’s edge with Floyd hot on her heels barking in excitement, the diamond glimmer of the ocean luring them both towards its heavenly coolness. Taylor pulled her T-shirt up and over her head, her heavy breasts bouncing within the confines of her blue bikini top, then yanked the sarong from around her slim waist and flung it over her shoulder. She tucked her fingers underneath the Lycra material of her bikini bottoms and pulled so they weren’t sitting uncomfortably between her butt cheeks.
Sweat rolled down her back and face as she pulled a scrunchie from around her wrist and tied her thick shock of curls up into a ponytail. The last time she had looked at the thermometer at her apartment it had been forty-two degrees, and rising. She fanned her face, wishing she could be naked, the heat making her feel claustrophobic. It was tempting to just take her bikini off, and she wanted to feel uninhibited, spontaneous, and free. A rush of waywardness washed over her and she smirked, quickly glancing about, making sure there was no one else in sight even though she liked this beach because there was never anyone on it. Ever since she’d discovered this spot on her second day in Driftwood, almost three weeks ago, she’d visited countless times and never seen another soul. She’d chosen not to tell anyone about visiting it either, so the place could remain her secret getaway.
Heart racing excitedly and gaining courage, she unclipped her top and pulled at the tied-up sides of her bikini bottoms, dropping everything to the ground with her towel, and then ran flat out, hastily diving into the water and revelling in the sensation of the water lapping at her bare skin. Floyd dove in only seconds behind her, landing with an almighty splash.
‘Woo hoo!’ she shouted, and splattered water towards Floyd. He barked, trying to chomp on the splashes, making Taylor laugh wholeheartedly. She reached for a floating piece of driftwood and threw it out for Floyd to chase and bring back, which he did tirelessly until she ordered him back to shore to sit with her belongings, wanting to steal a few moments for herself before getting out and heading off to work. She was on shift with Jasmine tonight, as Zoe was attending a birthday party at the hotel. It was the only place in Driftwood to have a party that served alcohol and, being a twenty-first, Taylor gathered there would be heaps of it, but only herself, Faith and Jasmine to serve it. She was already dreading how sore her feet would be at the end of the night.
Letting the gentle waves roll over her, Taylor floated easily, focusing on the absolute serenity of the beach, the gentle crashing of waves as they hit shore adding to the tranquillity. She licked the saltiness from her lips and breathed in deeply, smiling as she exhaled and closed her eyes, allowing her thoughts to wander off to wherever they desired. Jay Donnellson appeared in her mind’s eye once again, his wide sexy grin, enigmatic eyes and tall, muscular body a very pleasing image indeed. She sighed. She knew she should take heed of Zoe’s advice, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake Jay from her thoughts.
A jumbo plane flew overhead, thousands of miles above, diverting her thoughts and connecting her somewhat to the outside world but also leaving her feeling blissfully isolated. She giggled as she imagined the passengers looking out the window and pointing towards her floating around in the nude. Not that they could see her, thank God; she would have died of shame if they could.
Off in the distance, Floyd barked madly. Begrudgingly pulling her gaze from the sky, Taylor rolled over to see what all the commotion was about. She guessed he was delighting in his newly discovered pastime of chasing soldier crabs, a mission that proved fruitless as the minuscule crabs scurried away from him and whisked into tiny holes in the sand, leaving Floyd sniffing obsessively at the openings. Occasionally one would nip him on the nose but he was undeterred.
It only took a fleeting glance to find Floyd. Then Taylor froze. It couldn’t be. Crap! It was Jay. And here she was, acting like a pot-smoking hippie, in the flipping sea with nothing on. Yes, zip, nada, nothing, to cover her private parts! What had she been thinking, stripping off? And what was she going to do about it now? Throwing her arms across her bobbing breasts and praying for murkiness beneath the waves, Taylor weighed up whether she would make it to shore before Jay spotted her. So she could at least grab her towel. She did the maths then shook her head, knowing she would have to brave it out in the water. There wasn’t a hope in hell she’d make the fifteen metres to her clothes without being spotted a mile away, even though Jay was a fair distance down the beach. Maybe if she stayed still, very very still, Jay wouldn’t even notice her. Or was that just wishful thinking? ‘The things we do,’ she grumbled, treading water.
‘Ah. Hello, boy. Remember me?’ Jay said as he cautiously approached Floyd, relaxing and smiling broadly as Floyd ran towards him and smothered him in slobber. ‘I gather that’s a yes then?’ Jay chuckled, dropping his fishing line and bucket filled with bait in the sand then giving Floyd a hearty ruffle on the head. Floyd barked his hello, tongue wagging.
Jay stood, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hands, his pulse quickening as he searched for Taylor, exhilaration at seeing her once again filling him. A pile of what looked like clothes tossed on the sand up ahead was evidence she was about somewhere, maybe in the water. He looked towards the expanse of sea but there was no sight of her, and he began to panic — Coral Bay was famous for croc attacks. That was why none of the locals swam in this spot. Surely Taylor knew the hard and fast rule of the Driftwood area: you never went near the edge of the water unless you were high up on the rocks, or down the other end of the beach in the swimming nets? Had no one told her? Hadn’t she seen the signs that warned of the crocodiles that inhabited this area? Adrenaline filled him as he frantically searched the water. ‘Where is she then, Floyd? Shit, where the fucken hell is she?’
A glimpse of something caught his attention and he stood motionless, his breath held, his heart bashing against his chest. Relief flooded him as he spotted Taylor alive and well in the water. Thank Christ. Flicking off his thongs, he began to run towards her, the threat of crocs still real, still high, the last attack happening only six months ago; the young tourist astonishingly surviving multiple bite wounds. They didn’t know if the croc was still in the area. The thought unsettled Jay all the more as he waved his arms, trying to grab her attention.
‘Taylor, get out of the water! There are bloody crocs in there! Get out! Now!’
Taylor yelled something he couldn’t make out, then frantically looked around her and pointed beneath the water. What was she trying to tell him, that there was a croc beneath her? He had to get her out of there!
Jay ripped his shirt off and bolted for the water, thoughts of Taylor being crushed between a croc’s jaws then dragged to the bottom of the ocean in a death roll terrifying him. ‘I’m coming!’ he hollered as he crashed into the water and dived beneath a wave, his years of surf lifesaving as a young bloke coming in handy. He could hear Taylor screaming, but couldn’t hear the words, his fear for her growing by the second. He pushed through the waves and pushed through his fear. He had to save her.
‘No! No! No!’ Taylor screamed, spitting out salty water as she struggled to get away from Jay. What a pervert! Who did he think he was, coming out here when she had just called out she was naked? The cheek! What happened to the gentleman she met three weeks ago? Zoe hadn’t been exaggerating — Jay was proving to be very devious! And just what did he think was going to happen when he got out here? She was no floozy who gave her body to men willy-nilly!
Feeling extremely exposed, Taylor swam like a madwoman for the shore, but Jay was obviously the stronger swimmer, as he began to catch up to her
. Taylor thrashed, kicking as much water as she could towards him in an attempt to give her some sort of coverage and ward him off. She could hear Floyd barking on the shore and she wished he would do his job and come and save her from this wretched man.
Jay reached for her, trying to avoid the sprays of water she was kicking up. ‘I’m here. Stop panicking. Just wrap your arms around me and I’ll take care of you. It’s all going to be okay.’
‘Get away from me!’ Taylor roared, kicking another load of water in his direction.
Jay wiped at his face while treading water, the salt stinging his eyes. ‘Hey! What’s wrong with you? I’m trying to save you!’
‘Save me! From what? You?’ Taylor struggled for some decorum by throwing one arm across her front and her other hand over her nether region.
Jay, now close enough to make sense of the situation, stared in shock. ‘You’re, um, you have no, um, what do you call them things you chicks wear swimming, oh shit, you’re, um . . .’
‘Stark-bloody-naked, stripped, nude, undressed, exposed — yes, I reckon I am. Now, could you stop staring, Jay, turn the heck around, and show some common decency?’ Taylor pleaded.
Jay hurriedly turned to look out at the horizon, then to the rocks off to the side and finally up at the seagulls that seemed to be mocking him in the sky. His face was turning a brighter shade of red by the second. He cleared his throat. ‘I thought — I thought you were being attacked by a croc,’ he spluttered. ‘Shit, I’m so sorry, Taylor.’
Taylor gasped, the absurdity of the situation sending a rumble of amusement up her throat all the way from her belly, erupting from her in fits of uncontrollable laughter. ‘Oh my freaking God! A croc! That’s hilarious.’ She snorted between gasps for air, unable to stop laughing. ‘I — I was, ha ha, um, trying to tell you I was naked. Oh. My. God. How bloody embarrassing! I feel like a right tool!’