by Vicki Tyley
“As sure as I can be without a DNA test.” She related her conversation with Gail to him. “It’s quite likely that Tanya didn’t even know who her real father was.”
“Oh dear God, why only now?” Ash’s whole demeanor, not just his face, drooped. “I always wanted a brother or sister.”
“Do I count?”
He gave her a hard stare. “Please don’t tell me…” His voice trailed off.
“Hell, no. Tanya is my half-sister, like she’s yours. I don’t know what that makes us, but rest assured we’re not genetically related in any way.”
“It’s not that, it’s just…” He shook his head. “God knows how many other brothers and sisters I have out there who I don’t know about.”
“Why don’t you ask Marcus? What do you have to lose? The door to the skeleton cupboard has well and truly been opened.”
He gave a half-laugh-half-grunt. “You don’t say.”
“Did you post that video on YouTube?”
“As much as I would like to take the credit for that, I can’t. But I would like to shake the hand of the person who did.”
“He’s still your father.”
“Unfortunately.”
“At least you have one.”
He grimaced. “Sorry. Now taking foot out of mouth,” he said, miming the action.
“I have a small confession to make.”
“Only a small one?”
She held up a thumb and forefinger, two centimeters of air between them. “I met with your father earlier—”
“And you’re still a virgin. I‘m impressed.”
She scowled at him.
“Sorry, uncalled for. So, what did dear old Dad have to say for himself?”
“He’s concerned for my welfare—”
“Concerned for someone other than himself? That’ll be the day.”
“If you would just let me finish. He’s concerned because he’s beginning to think that my suspicions about Sean’s and Tanya’s death might well be founded,” she said, tweaking the facts.
Ash sat bolt upright. “He does?”
She nodded. “He wants me to leave Melbourne. He thinks the longer I stay, the more I’m at risk.”
“Oh, now I get it. The further away you are, the less likely you can meddle in his affairs. He’s good at that.”
“Less than a week ago, you were the one telling me to leave well enough alone and piss off back home. What’s changed?”
He laughed. “You have to ask?”
“Call me thick, but yes.”
“Then you were the grieving kid sister of my best mate, unable to accept her death as suicide.”
“So you agree with me, Tanya didn’t kill herself?”
“Now you’re putting words in my mouth. Yes, the case warrants further investigation, but I don’t think you should be involved. My father and I don’t agree on much, but on that at least we do. We’ve both lost a sister. The last thing I want to do is lose another.”
“But we’re not brother and sister.”
He cocked his head. “The closest thing to.”
“Well, dear brother—”
“Big brother,” he said, a hint of mischief returning to his eyes. “I’m a year older, remember?”
“How could I forget?” She stood. “Since we’re being open and frank with each other, there’s something I want to show you.”
She collected the anonymous letter from the dining table and returned to the couch. “Tell me what you make of this.”
She scrutinized his face as he read it, searching for any telltale twitches. He finished the letter and turned it over to check the back.
“Reading between the lines,” he said, “I would say whoever wrote this wants you gone. How many of these have you received?”
“Just the one.”
He handed it back to her. “Only one letter perhaps, but I get the distinct impression that’s not all.”
“I don’t know if they’re connected, but there’s the two deliveries of roses I told you about.
He gave a solemn nod. “And.”
“And?”
“And what else? I know there’s something else bothering you. Call it brotherly intuition.”
She folded the letter in her fingers in half, and then in half again. “Where were you last night?”
“Fen’s. Do you have a problem with that?”
Jemma shook her head. “Should I?”
“I don’t know,” he said, a caustic edge to his voice, “you tell me.”
“Only if after you left Fen and went home, you thought keeping me awake all night with prank phone calls might be a fun thing to do.”
“What are you on about?” He narrowed his eyes and jerked his head. “Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. If by home you mean that monument to success my father calls a house, I haven’t stepped foot inside it since I found out about him and Sean. Like I told you, I spent the night at Fen’s place. If you don’t believe me, ask her.”
Somehow, Jemma knew that regardless of whether he had or hadn’t, Fen would say whatever Ash wanted her to.
CHAPTER 42
Jemma woke Sunday morning, far from rested, but with her resolve to expose the truth behind Tanya and Sean’s deaths still intact. She couldn’t bring back her sister, couldn’t undo any wrongs – perceived or otherwise – but she could do that. Had to.
She rolled onto her side and anchored her foot under the couch’s armrest, her fingers trawling the floor for the scrunched ball of paper she had hurled at the wall the previous evening. She almost wished she had forgotten to clear the post box, had one night when she didn’t feel everyone was out to get her. But contrary to the old saying, ignorance was not bliss.
The paper missile retrieved, she propped herself on her elbow and uncrumpled it, pulling it taut between her hands. Hanging from the gallows and drawn in black marker, the one-armed stick figure’s message was clear. Below it were five dashes, placeholders for five letters. Hangman.
The roses, the anonymous I’m-writing-this-because-I-care letter, the phone calls in the middle of the night, and now a child’s game. All seemingly innocuous, someone’s idea of a joke no doubt, but she wasn’t laughing. Nor was she budging.
Except from this couch, she thought.
In the shower, her hands busy shampooing her hair, her mind leapfrogged from one disconnected thought to another, from Fen’s glee in the outing of Sean and Marcus’s affair on the Internet to her own safety.
She rinsed her hair, her initial idea of checking into a hotel disappearing down the drain with the soapy water. A hotel – 5-star or not – offered less security than where she was. Anyone with any cunning could walk off the street and gain access to the floors and rooms. Not to mention, her tormentor would take any sign of weakness on her part as a win. She squeezed the conditioner bottle. It spat at her. She squeezed harder.
CHAPTER 43
Jemma pushed through the doors to ShapeZone, a stress-busting workout top of her agenda. She shivered. The cool Monday morning temperature had nothing on her personal trainer’s expression.
“You have a lot of nerve,” Kerry said, rounding the counter.
“Excuse me?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Karen. Or should that be Jemma?”
“Oh.” She felt the blood drain from her face.
Kerry gave an indignant snort. “Oh is right.”
“I can explain.”
“This’ll be good.” The personal trainer crossed her arms.
“Not here.” They were stood in the middle of the gym’s reception, the Barbie doll behind the front desk their main audience.
Kerry eyed her up and down. “Give me one good reason why not. I have nothing to hide.”
“So everyone knows about your hus—”
Kerry yanked Jemma off her feet and held her fast, the strength in those lean arms deceptive. “Don’t you dare,” she said through gritted teeth. “Don’t you bloody dare.”
&nbs
p; The personal trainer’s grip slackened. Jemma wedged her forearm in the gap between them and levered, the body-warmed scent of soap and deodorant fading with space. “We should talk, but somewhere more private.”
Without another word, Kerry turned her loose and stalked off in the direction of her office. Jemma found her feet and followed.
Kerry juggled a pair of chrome hand-weights as if they were nothing more than ping pong balls. “Close the door.”
“I’m assuming Ethan told you.”
“How I found out isn’t important.”
“Karen Wheatley is my mother’s maiden name…” Jemma said, racking her brain for a way out of her predicament. Kerry pitched one of the hand-weights in her direction. Her reflexes kicked in. She caught the metal projectile in both hands before it hit her in the chest. “You have every right to be pissed off. I shouldn’t have deceived you like that. I wasn’t thinking straight. I’m really sorry.”
“That’s all very well, but I still don’t get it. What the hell you were trying to prove?”
“To be honest, I’m not quite sure.” She held out the hand-weight to Kerry. “I guess I wanted to find out for myself what Sean’s ex-wife was like without her having any preconceived notions about me.”
The personal trainer took Jemma’s offering and sat it on the desk along with its mate. “Preconceived notions about you? That’s a laugh. I can just imagine what you’ve heard about me.”
“I won’t lie and tell you that it was all good.”
“Oh, so there was some good?”
Jemma pressed her lips together.
“No, I didn’t think so. Okay, so why don’t you fill me on all the dreadful things I’ve supposed to have done. Why not start with murder?”
“Pardon?”
“Don’t play little Miss Innocence with me. Why else all the subterfuge? You think I’m somehow involved in my cheating ex’s and his bit on the side’s deaths, don’t you? Don’t deny it.”
“All right, I admit it crossed my mind, but so did a hundred other farfetched ideas. I haven’t been here. I only had hearsay to go on.” Jemma swallowed. “It would have been remiss of me not to check you out.”
A full-throated laugh erupted from Kerry. “At least you’re honest. More than I can say for the dearly departed. Don’t look so horrified. I’m not going to pretend to feel something I don’t. Not even for you. A psychologist friend of mine tells me it’s not healthy to dwell on the past, and if I’m anything, I’m healthy.”
“Easy as that? Like having your sins absolved by a priest, they cease to exist?”
Kerry laughed again. “I guess. The past is the past: what’s done is done.”
“So where does justice come into it? Or would you rather we just pat criminals on the back, tell them to try to behave in future, and send them on their way?”
“I think we may be talking at cross purposes. Dwelling on the past and being punished for past demeanors are two different things.” One eyebrow arched. “Agreed?”
Jemma nodded.
“I’m no angel,” Kerry continued, her eyes narrowing, “but if you think I’m capable of killing one person, let alone two, you’re crazier than I thought. I’ll put my hands up to doing my damnedest to make Sean and your sister's lives hell, but that does not extend to murder. No matter what you may think.”
“For what it’s worth, I believe you. One more thing,” Jemma said, her hand on the door handle, “why did you persist in harassing Tanya after Sean died?”
Kerry scowled. “Come off it. Even I’m not that heartless.”
CHAPTER 44
Once outside the gym, Jemma paused to gather her thoughts. Telling Kerry she believed her and actually believing her weren’t the same. How far could she trust a woman who in her own words had set out to make Sean’s and Tanya’s lives hell?
Sharp male voices from across the street caught her attention. Though she couldn’t hear what was being said, the body language of the two men was enough to tell her that they weren’t exchanging pleasantries. The man with his back to her shook his fist. The other, his face obscured below a peaked cap, swatted it.
A bus blocked her view. By the time it had passed, the two men had parted. The man without the cap was halfway across the street before she recognized him. Ash’s wide mouth spread in a grin as her gaze met his. She frowned and looked away, scanning the area for the other man. Blending in like a chameleon as he lounged against the graffitied brick wall near the corner, she almost didn’t see him. He moved off, his lumbering gait unmistakable.
“What’s going on? What were you and Gerry Hobson arguing about? I didn’t realize you knew each other.”
Ash shrugged. “It’s sorted. Nothing you need to worry about. Enough of that. What are you up to?”
“What does it look like?” Two could play his game. “More to the point, what are you doing here? Did you follow me?”
“Now why would I do that?”
Her turn to shrug.
“For your information, I was checking out cars.” He pointed toward the car yard directly opposite. “If I’m going to stay in Melbourne, I need a set of wheels. It was just by chance I saw you.”
“And our friendly security officer?”
“It’s a small world.”
“Too small sometimes. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.” ShapeZone’s doorstep was not the place to loiter, especially if Ash was going to continue to play games.
“At least let me walk with you.”
“What about those wheels?”
“Nothing over there turns me on.”
Forty minutes later, every topic bar what was actually pressing exhausted, they turned into her street. She unzipped her gym bag, continuing to walk as she groped in it for her keys. A pair of jean-clad legs protruded out into the footpath. She sidestepped and glanced down at the man seated on the concrete, his back against the building wall.
Her heart jumped. “Ross!”
The sinewy man leapt to his feet, his wavy hair paler than she remembered it. “Give me a heart attack, why don’t you.” He shoved a bunch of limp pink carnations under her nose. “These are for you.”
A first. “Thank you, but what are you doing here?”
Intense green eyes peered at her from under long lashes. “To see you, of course.” His tanned face broke into a grin. “Why else?”
Her fingers ached to touch his skin, feel his warmth. “What about your job?”
“What job?” He cocked his head at her, a cheeky glint to his eyes.
Again that familiar tug. She balled her hands.
Ash appeared at her side. “So are you going to introduce us?”
Confusion and something else flashed across Ross’s face, as if only just then aware of Ash’s presence. He thrust a hand in Ash’s direction. “Ross Gibson, Jemma’s partner.”
Ash blenched but just as quickly recovered. “Ashley Bartlett, Jemma’s brother.”
Checkmate.
“Say what?” Ross.
“It’s complicated,” she said. “Please tell me Gail didn’t put you up to this.”
“No. What do you take me for?”
“So why are you here really?”
Ross glanced sideways at the other man. “Don’t you think that’s between us?”
She gave Ash the nod.
“I’ll leave you to it,” he said. “Call me.”
“Righto then,” Ross said, hoisting his battered backpack from the footpath onto his shoulder. “Lead the way.”
“Where are you staying?”
“I thought with you.”
“There’s nowhere for you to sleep. I’m on the couch.”
“Couch, bed, it’s all the same to me.”
“Ross, you don’t seriously expect to walk back into my life like nothing’s happened, do you?” Seeing him in the flesh had only magnified the hurt of him walking out to follow the almighty dollar. Another woman she might have understood.
“You can’t blame a guy for
trying.”
She couldn’t help herself, she laughed.
“That’s more like the Jem I know. If it makes you happy, I’ll check into a backpackers for tonight.”
“Didn’t they pay you in the mines?”
“Yeah, why?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. Come on, I’ll make you a coffee if you promise to behave yourself.”
In the lift on the way up, she tried not to breathe in his warm, mossy scent, tried to avoid his gaze. When he cleared his throat, she knew he, too, was remembering their last time alone together in such a confined space. She glanced up at the security camera.
“That guy – Ashley was it? – he’s not really your brother is he?” he asked as she inserted the key in the door.
“Long story, but I want to hear yours first. By the way, you gave up the right to call me your partner the day you left.” She pushed the door open.
He whistled. “So this is how the other half live.”
“And die,” she said, the words out of her mouth before she realized.
“Yeah, I was really shocked to hear about your sister.” His face paled under his tan. “Shit, you mean it happened here?”
“Not so keen to bunk on the couch with me now, are you?”
The color returned to his face. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. Back to my original question: why are you here?”
He ambled to the balcony windows and inspected the view. “What about that coffee you promised me?”
“Why can’t you just give me a straight answer?”
He chuckled. “Some things never change.”
“We’ve changed.”
His tone sobered. “No, that’s where you’re wrong. We’re still the same two people. We all make mistakes – I’ve made a couple of doozies – but hey, what good are they, if we can’t learn from them?” He took a step toward her, his hands palm up in front of him. “We had a lot of good times, Jem. Do you want to throw all that away?”