Combatting Fear

by Sandy Vaile

  Neve straightened. “Did you introduce yourselves?”

  “Sure did,” Mary said.

  Micah might have imagined it, but he thought Mary raised one eyebrow at Neve and flicked her eyes in his direction. No doubt the rumour mill in Turners Gully had been turning overtime with an outsider like him in town.

  “We had a brilliant time in Port Broughton,” Mary said.

  “And I found a huge jellyfish,” the young girl announced.

  “Okay, you can tell Neve all about your holiday at kindy on Tuesday. We need to get a present for Uncle Nick’s birthday.”

  They said warm good-byes, and Neve led the way to the restaurant. The waitress seated them in a quiet corner and took their orders.

  “I want to buy a present for Rowan, and he likes trucks,” Micah said. “Could you help me pick one out after lunch?”

  “Sure. I know exactly what he likes.”

  “Yes, I guess you know a lot more about him than I do now.”

  “I didn’t mean . . .”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m glad he’s had someone like you in his life. I can’t wait to hear him chatter about all the things he’s been doing.”

  “He certainly is a special little boy.” She smiled.

  It was obvious she meant it. Rowan was special to her. More so than the other students, but why? It couldn’t be just a physical likeness to prompt her to get involved in the shit storm that was Micah’s private life. He wanted to trust her enough to rely on her, but he just couldn’t. Trusting people only gave them the opportunity to deceive you, so he needed to figure this out.

  “Neve, I wanted to ask you about your brother. You said Rowan reminds you of him.” He left the query hanging, hoping she’d let him into her private thoughts. But the longer she pushed a straw around the rim of her glass of orange juice, the less likely he thought an answer was.

  “I don’t like to talk about it, but I guess you have a right to know.” A muscle in her jaw twitched. “Some rich bitch was coming home from a Melbourne Cup lunch after too many champers and ploughed through a stop sign. T-boned Mum’s car and sent it through a fence and into a dam. I survived, they drowned. Carlos was nine.”

  He laid his hand over her cold one on the table. “I’m sorry. That must’ve been really traumatic. How old were you?”

  “Twelve. That’s why I had to live with Tony.”

  At least now he knew how entrenched her hatred of wealth was. He’d never stood a chance. It also explained why she was both trapped by and needed Tony. The reference to a “rich bitch” still didn’t quite make sense though. “So you don’t like people with money because one killed your mum and brother?”

  Her lips and brows scrunched into an unwelcome scowl. “Of course I hate the person who killed my family, but not just because of what she did that day. She never showed any remorse.”

  “But what’s that got to do with her being rich?”

  “Rich people think they can do whatever they want.” Her hand curled tightly around her glass of juice. “And they’re right. The rules of society don’t apply to them. With enough money, they can get away with anything.”

  “Now hang on. It’s not fair to generalise about the morals of everyone with money.”

  “All she cared about was keeping herself out of jail.”

  He could see the intensity of prejudice in her frigid eyes, born of years of believing her own propaganda, but it didn’t give her the right to tar him with the same brush.

  “That may be so for the woman who killed your brother, but saying everyone with money is the same is about as mature as me saying I hate kindergarten teachers because they’re wannabe school teachers. One person does not represent a whole group.”

  Crimson blotches appeared on her cheeks, and the drinking straw between her fingers bent.

  He plowed on. “In fact, I would go so far as to say that you don’t hate money so much as you’re jealous that you don’t have it.”

  “That’s bullshit and you know it,” Neve said through clenched teeth.

  She was on the edge of her seat, no doubt ready to bolt any second.

  “You’re prejudiced. I get that, but think about it in logical terms for a minute. One woman used her money for the wrong thing. No one else with money has actually done anything bad to you, have they?”

  She scowled. “I won’t let that happen.”

  “But apparently one person is enough to damn me. You know, I haven’t done anything to deserve this animosity.”

  “No well . . .I’m entitled to my opinion.” Without another word, Neve was on her feet and headed for the mall.

  Chapter 16

  Neve wasn’t used to playing chauffer—seeing as Tony rarely left the property—and Micah had been taciturn since their tense lunchtime conversation. She glanced sideways at him, unsure if she was pissed off that she’d been stupid enough to tell a virtual stranger her family secret or because he’d turned it around and made it about him. Either way, it was good they’d be going their separate ways once she dropped him off.

  Of course, now that she’d had time to calm down and think, all kinds of witty retorts came to her. Micah had caused her trouble. He’d gotten her involved in this mess with Chelsea and Dave, and he’d caused Tony all sorts of anguish after following her home. Then again, he did a lot of good things with his money too.

  His mobile phone buzzed regularly, but this time he stiffened as he read the message. After jamming it back into his pocket, he scowled out the window.

  “Bad news?” she queried.

  “No. Bank details from Chelsea.” With a small turn of his face away from her, the subject was closed.

  She swung her station wagon into the kindy car park and jammed on the brakes.

  “Where’s your car?”

  “What the . . .” Micah leapt from the car and ran to the footbridge, turning circles as he searched for a vehicle that clearly wasn’t there.

  “Did you organise for the hire company to pick it up?” Hopeful at best.

  “Bloody hell, that’s all I need.” He kept the string of expletives low as he walked away from her and pulled out his mobile phone.

  Neve sat in her car with the door open while Micah paced with the phone pressed to one ear and his other arm gesticulating irately. She pitied the poor person on the other end. It took at least fifteen minutes before he tucked the phone back into his pocket and came to stand in front of her.

  “I’ll have to go to the police station to report it stolen. Should I order a cab?” He gave her a resigned look.

  It would make her look like a total bitch if she didn’t drive him, but face it, being involved in one of his problems was enough. Setting foot inside a police station wasn’t her idea of a pleasant end to the day. She didn’t have a problem with him involving the police per se, so long as she didn’t have to get up close and personal with any of them.

  Micah threw his arms open to hurry her response. She couldn’t leave him stranded.

  “I’ll drive you,” she said.

  “I appreciate it. There isn’t a lot going right for me this week.”

  Micah got back into the car, his hands stiff in his lap as they headed back over the hills and onto the plains.

  “You know, you said you’d answer any questions I had,” Neve said.

  “Mmm.”

  “Google also said that you did it tough as a teenager. How so?”

  He crossed his arms, and there was a long silence. “It’s not the kind of story people want to hear about a successful business man. Besides, I try to keep my private life private.”

  So that’s where they stood. A professional relationship. “But I want to understand what drives you.”

  He sighed. “I told you my father left Mum bereft. Well I had a lucky break while I was working on a mine site and got to learn all about running a business from a pro. Two years later, I bought my first business and turned a profit. I wanted to make sure that no one ever took everything away from
me again, and fortunately it turned out I had a talent for turning ailing companies around.

  “Before long, I owned a bunch of companies. Money breeds money.” He twitched one corner of his mouth as though in apology. “A few years later, I heard that my father’s business had fallen on hard times, so I bought it and sold off the assets until there was nothing left, but I couldn’t bring myself to put all of those people out of work, so I redeployed them to my other businesses. Every last one, except my father.”

  Vengeful Micah wasn’t something she could picture. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.” It was meant to be a joke, but the mood remained grave.

  “Are you sure this is the closest police station?” he said. “It seems a hell of a long way.”

  It wasn’t far enough in her opinion.

  “Turners Gully used to have its own, but it closed along with most of the rural stations, years ago.” She turned left at the traffic lights and into a small car park. “Here we are.”

  She rolled her shoulders. Geez, Tony’s Big Brother paranoia must’ve rubbed off on her more than she realised. Micah was old enough to go in without her anyway.

  He slid out of the car and waited.

  Neve cracked her window down. “You go in. I’ll be fine here.”

  He frowned. “You’re not coming in? It’s hot in the car.”

  Yes it was. “I’m not a puppy,” she grumbled, but there wasn’t any good reason for her not to go in, despite racking her brain for one. It’s just a police station. They help people all the time. Nothing to worry about.

  After a deep breath, she got out of the car and led the way along a cement path, past boxy windows and a curve of cubed glass that towered the full height of the building.

  “What’s that?” Micah pointed to an expanse of white netting over the roof.

  “To keep the pigeons off,” she explained.

  The two-storey red-brick building wasn’t anything impressive, or even appealing, but it was certainly free of bird poo. She rolled onto her toes and came to an abrupt halt with her nose millimetres from the automatic doors. Slowly, they slid aside.

  An air-conditioned breeze blasted against her bare arm, raising goose bumps, but it was ineffectual farther inside the glass lobby, where it was equivalent to a hothouse. She felt like fruit poaching in a preserving jar, which wasn’t helped by the nervous sweat that had broken on her brow. An ingrained paranoia of authority was impossible to ignore.

  “You all right?” Micah squeezed her elbow. “You look pale.”

  “I think I’ll wait over here while you make the report.” She wandered over to the black plastic chairs pressed against the outside wall and perched on the edge of one. Ten minutes tops before either the moulded plastic felt about as comfortable as stone or she sweated enough to slide right off it.

  Micah stood in line behind a guy wearing grey tracksuit pants with holes in the knees, a stretched yellow T-shirt, and thongs—the cheap rubber kind. Neve smirked when she saw Micah sniff and take a step backwards.

  A young woman taking her turn at the counter blew a pink bubble and pulled down the back of a barely there dress. The gum snapped back into her mouth as the officer behind the counter typed. There were three service windows, but only one officer.

  She leant back and rested her head against the warm wall.

  Five minutes later, the bubble woman bounced out the door and tracksuit guy shuffled forwards. The officer gave him the once-over and asked a question that was swallowed by the design of the service window. Micah turned and grimaced in a show of apology for the wait.

  Neve’s gaze darted from each watchful black sphere on the ceiling, to the serving officer, to the Authorised Access Only sign on a side door. There was definitely someone watching her every move. An unseen breeze scurried across her skin, and she went to stand by the automatic doors to catch the chilled stream from the air-conditioner. She lifted the hair at the nape of her neck and let the breeze tickle the dampness beneath.

  Micah checked his watch and shifted his weight.

  There was no telling how long this could take, and every moment spent in the police station increased Neve’s chances of being strip-searched or something equally unpleasant. Okay, that was unlikely, but she could self-combust from the stress and heat.

  When the automatic doors slid apart and another victim stepped inside, Neve rushed towards freedom. Micah was on his own.

  • • •

  Half an hour later, Micah found Neve sitting against the wall of the police station, in the shade of a wattle tree. Thanks to her head tilted back and eyes closed, he could study the long curve of her exposed throat, the serenity on her face. Something flipped in his stomach. No, she is only helping me because she feels compelled to. It had everything to do with Rowan and nothing to do with him.

  “Neve, are you okay?”

  She opened one eye, and he held out a hand to haul her to her feet.

  “Fine. I’m just not keen on police stations. How’d it go?”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary. An officer lodged a report and seems to think the car will turn up soon enough. Probably some teenagers took it for a joyride. The hire company will deal with it now.”

  Neve dusted the back of her slacks. “Are you going to get a replacement car?”

  “Seems pointless. The Bentley is still sitting at the bed-and-breakfast if I need it. Tomorrow Chelsea will get her money and I’ll get Rowan.”

  There would be no further reason for him to remain in Turners Gully, but never seeing the feisty Neve Botticelli again wasn’t a pleasant idea.

  The journey back to the bed-and-breakfast was undertaken in silence. The atmosphere between them hadn’t been right since he’d stupidly taken the bait about why she hated rich people. After everything she’d done for him, he could at least cheer her up. He wanted to; he just wasn’t sure how.

  When Neve parked behind Micah’s Bentley, he turned and laid a hand on her forearm. “I know this whole situation is making things difficult for you, and I don’t want to come between you and your family or friends. You don’t have to come tomorrow.”

  “I told you I’d come to the hand over and I will.”

  “Look, it’s only three thirty. I could still get into mischief,” he said playfully.

  She shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll manage.”

  “Come on, I owe you a drink after driving me all over the place today. I have a nice local wine inside. Have a glass with me.”

  For a long minute, she considered him, and then her stiff demeanour relaxed a little, and she nodded. If they were going to work together to get Rowan back, then they needed to keep things friendly. But once he shared the latest information he’d had from Shannon, Neve might change her mind about her involvement.

  • • •

  Micah paused with the wine bottle tilted over her empty glass. “One more? I’d like to tell you what my PI found out about Chelsea’s boyfriend.”

  “You have a private investigator?”

  He shrugged. Buttercup-yellow chardonnay splashed into the goblet, and the sweet, fruity smell was divine. He handed her a glass and poured another for himself. They had been chatting for the past hour, and it was amazing how much they had in common, like an interest in sustainable living and eighties music.

  It had been a good opportunity to study her: the way she twirled a stray hair curl around her finger when she was thinking or slipped off her shoes as she relaxed in his company. The worry lines on her forehead had smoothed, and his gaze couldn’t help but follow the smooth skin down her throat and over her slender figure. A little of the pink lip gloss she’d brushed on after lunch still glistened, making her lips luscious and inviting.

  She leant forward, cut a wedge of camembert, and layered it on a water wafer with quince paste. Her eyes snapped up, as though she felt him watching. The resultant blush was inexplicably satisfying.

  “Shall I pick you up in the morning?” she asked.

  Micah helped himself
to the crumbly cheddar and a handful of red grapes. “I’ll meet you at the kindergarten around eleven thirty. My PI dug up some interesting stuff on Chelsea’s boyfriend. It seems Dave Wilks hangs out with some very bad people. He has a police record showing low-level crime like burglary and car theft, but recently he’s also been linked to the Mutts bikie gang.”

  Neve nearly choked.

  “You’ve heard of the Mutts, I take it?”

  She dusted biscuit crumbs from her lap. “Hasn’t everyone? They’re into all sorts of illegal stuff. In fact, Jack thinks he’s seen them going past his place recently. And you think Dave is hooked up with them?”

  “It seems that way. Not the kind of guy I want around my son.”

  “Hell no.” She was on her feet and pacing, shaking her arms out like a boxer waiting for the bell.

  “I’m sure it will be all right,” he fibbed. “Despite Dave’s previous convictions, he’s just a mechanic. My PI hasn’t linked him to any drugs.”

  “Maybe he’s into something more sinister and just hasn’t been caught yet. You know, if Dave’s in the area, it stands to reason the Mutts might have a clubhouse nearby. That’s a horrible thought.” She shivered.

  “Not the sort of place you want in your neighbourhood.” He stood, reached for her, but let his hand drop. Perhaps he should have kept the information to himself. It wasn’t fair to make her worry on his behalf. “Anyway, my guy’s going to keep digging. I didn’t think there was any point in him flying over, considering this whole mess should be done with after Chelsea hands over Rowan tomorrow.”

  “You mean your mess will be over. If a gang of bikers are in Turners Gully, our mess is just beginning.”

  On her next pass, he grabbed her elbow. “Neve, even after I have Rowan, I’ll do anything I can to help . . .this community.”

  She looked at his hand and back to his eyes. He should let go. He would, any second now. A syrupy warmth radiated from her, drew him closer. A minuscule, uncertain flicker between her brows drew his attention to dark eyes.

  “I promise to keep you safe,” he whispered.

  Her magnetic gaze dropped to his lips. No, he couldn’t kiss her. It would screw up the plans they’d made and complicate an already tentative truce. Not to mention feed unwanted daydreams.