‘Don’t be such a party-pooper, Mac,’ Jim whined. Mac shook his head as he walked down the hall toward the exit. ‘I’ll tell your father,’ Jim called out to him.
Mac turned, any good humour he felt for the man leaching away. ‘You do that.’ He’d deal with his father—later. He left the hospital, jaw clenched. Jim was drunk. No question. And he’d been driving around town. Bloody hell. The man was lucky he hadn’t driven into a tree or a pole—or worse, somebody else. Anger had him clenching and unclenching his fists. The amount of times they’d arrived at a scene of carnage on the highway because people thought they could drive with a blood alcohol level that made it difficult to form a sentence, let alone operate a vehicle…
This was one of the perils of working in a small town. Inevitably, you had to deal with someone you knew. These people were generally his friends—until he had to arrest them. He’d learned a long time ago to set low expectations to avoid disappointment—and there was disappointment. Every time he had to haul a friend’s butt into jail for beating up his wife, or driving drunk, or stealing, or dealing drugs … Believe the worst of people, and you typically couldn’t go wrong. Jayden Terrance had taught him that lesson. Once knockabout friends… until he’d arrested the man.
He slid into his car and stared at the single-level block building. Jac was in there, and his conscience pricked at him for leaving her alone… He sighed. He’d have to have that talk with her. That one where he told her he knew illegal activity was going on at her property, and he knew that she was involved. He just hoped she’d make it easy on them both and confess.
He started the car and pulled away, calling into the station to let them know he was on his way to the Sinclairs’ to check on Gwen and get their side of the story.
And then he’d have to go home and tell his parents that Jim would be arrested and likely lose his business … He could just imagine his father’s reaction.
Sometimes being a country cop sucked.
Chapter Five
Jacinta slid the t-shirt on over her head, and was pulling it down when she heard the door open.
‘Oh, sorry,’ a deep masculine voice said behind her. ‘I’ll come back later.’
She yanked the garment down and turned to face her visitor. ‘It’s okay, Mac. What are you doing here?’ At most he would have seen her back, and that was nothing to get embarrassed about, yet a soft warmth crept over her cheeks. She was super-conscious that the night before she’d slung clothes over her pyjamas, and wasn’t wearing a bra beneath her clothes. Or knickers. Not that that would shock Detective Casanova here.
She eyed him surreptitiously as she reached for her jumper. He looked … tired. No, not so much tired as weary. Her cheeks heated again. She’d fallen asleep on him. Well, not on him… Images sprang to mind about what falling asleep on him could look like. Oh, god. That was so wrong. She blamed it on the knock to her head. Yeah, that had to be it.
‘I’m taking you home today. Has the doctor released you?’ His lips quirked as he removed his hat. ‘Unless you want to check yourself out again…?’
She pulled the jumper over her head. ‘No, he’s released me. I can’t wait to get out of here. I’m so tired.’
His eyebrows rose. ‘Rough night?’ The concern in his voice touched her, and she preoccupied herself with smoothing the jumper down over her hips. He’d stayed with her. Well, until she’d fallen asleep. That was sweet. She’d felt … cared for. Which made her feel all kinds of awkward.
‘Uh, the nurses came and woke me up every hour or so…’ And shone a light in her eyes, and wanted to talk. She understood what they were doing, appreciated it, but now she was really craving a solid sleep. She picked up the headache tablets the nurse had given her—they were ones easily bought over the counter, but she’d been given some at breakfast, and some to tide her over during the day.
Then his words sank in. ‘You’re taking me home? What about Scott?’
Mac’s expression became impassive. ‘I thought he might need to do some of your work this morning, so I figured I’d save him a trip.’
Jac paused. While she was hesitant to put Mac out—it wasn’t like Bulls’ Run was a regular visit for him, not since Jamie had left—she appreciated the fact that someone would be at the station to do her chores while she was away. She didn’t want her father to stress.
‘Thanks,’ she said, then slid her feet in her boots and walked to the door without tying her shoelaces. It hurt her head too much when she bent down.
‘Laces,’ Mac said, pointing to them. ‘You’ll trip.’
‘I’ll be fine to walk to the car.’
His eyes narrowed, and then his gaze drifted to the butterfly stitches on her temple. He tossed his hat on the bed.
‘You could just ask, you know,’ he murmured as he hunkered down and started to tie up her boots.
‘I didn’t want to be a bother,’ she said, looking down at his bent head. A memory of him doing the exact same thing when she was seven and he was eleven flashed through her mind, and that same sense from the night before, that one of being cared for, filled her, warmed her.
And then he tied her boots together. ‘Mac,’ she cried in protest, cuffing him gently across the back of his head. ‘You’re so juvenile.’
He chuckled as he undid the laces and tied them correctly. ‘You’re so gullible.’
She rolled her eyes as he rose, and for a moment they stood so close, she could lean forward and brush against him.
Which was so not what she was going to do. What the hell was she thinking? She rubbed the back of her head as she stepped back. She was going to blame these little mental side trips to fantasyland on the knocks to the head.
‘You ready to go?’ he asked. ‘I can come back later, if you need to rest a little more.’
She shook her head gingerly. ‘No, I’m good to go.’
She followed him out in silence, then squinted at the too-bright sun outside. The glare prompted a tiny little throb. She wished she had her sunglasses. Fortunately, though, it wouldn’t be long until she was home, and could flop into her bed.
She stared out of the passenger seat while Mac drove them through town. She leaned her elbow on the window frame and covered her face as they drove past the supermarket. A number of people were already out doing their shopping, and she could just imagine the gossip her trip home in a cop car would generate.
‘Thanks for doing this,’ she said quietly as Mac turned out onto the highway.
‘No problem. It gives us a chance to talk.’
Really? He wanted to talk? A secret thrill rushed through her. He seemed … determined. Not so much brotherly as deliberate. Intent. They’d seen each other more, had talked more, in the last few days then in the eighteen months since her brother’s last visit. Did seeing her without Jamie’s presence finally show her as more than a pseudo-sister to him?
‘What—’ Her voice came out in a squeak, so she cleared her throat. ‘What about?’ God, she hoped that sounded casual. Calm.
‘About Dick.’
It took her a moment to realise he was talking about the mine. She wrestled the images in her mind into a more PG-rated picture.
‘Uh, okay. What about … Dick?’
He slid a sideways glance at her. ‘I thought I’d give you the opportunity to tell me what’s really going on.’
Uh… ‘What do you mean?’ Her frown deepened, her confusion making the throb in her head ache more. Perhaps he was talking about his body, after all? Did he know about her teen crush? That maybe, if she had a few beers and he caught her in a weak moment, she might admit she still had a residual flare of attraction for him? That could be either all kinds of mortifying, or the beginning of something very adult. He’d never asked her out—he’d asked out pretty much every other single, available and age-appropriate woman in Echo Springs, but not her … She wiped her palms on her jeans. His expression was so deadpan, she couldn’t gauge where his mind was at. Did he want to talk about them? She
was trying to ignore it, but hey, if he was prepared to address it, she could. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to mention it unless he said something first.
He turned his attention back to the highway. ‘I mean the real reason Brayden was in that mine shaft.’
She shut her mouth. O-kay. Not an I-think-you’re-hot conversation, then. She took a deep breath, trying to will the colour back from her cheeks. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I didn’t know he was out there, and I don’t know who this Brad Perse is—’
‘Brett Pearce,’ Mac corrected.
She made a gesture with her hand. ‘There you go, I can’t even get his name right. I don’t know what they were doing…’ Her voice trailed off, and she turned to Mac. ‘You don’t think Brayden was gay, do you? Not that there’s anything wrong with that, mind you,’ she said hurriedly, ‘I just didn’t get that impression from him. Wow.’
Mac’s lips pursed. ‘Brayden and Brett weren’t gay.’
‘Okay, well, I don’t know why they were there or what they were doing.’ She tilted her head to the side. ‘Did you ask Hayden? Does he have any idea what was going on?’
Mac’s gaze narrowed as he eyed her briefly. ‘Are you trying to find out what Hayden Terrance has told us?’
She shrugged. ‘Kind of. I can talk to him directly, I guess. I want to attend Brayden’s funeral, but that’s not really the best time to bring this up, is it?’
‘Just tell me, Jac.’ His voice held such resignation, such disappointment, that it stopped her for a moment. She turned a little more in the seat to face him fully. There was something going on here, a tenseness that she was only just becoming aware of, and she’d bet the last of the Bulls’ Run funds that it had nothing to do with the undercurrent of an attraction it seemed only she felt.
‘Tell you what, Mac?’ she asked carefully. She was wracking her brain, but she couldn’t figure out what it was he seemed to want to hear from her.
‘I know, Jac.’
‘Know what, Mac?’
‘I know about the meth lab,’ he exclaimed, his knuckles turning white with frustration on the steering wheel.
Shock hit her like the mine explosion. ‘What meth lab?’
‘The one that the Terrance brothers and Brett Pearce set up in Dick.’
Her jaw dropped for a moment, stunned surprise and horror filling her. No. No. It couldn’t—Hayden and Brayden wouldn’t … She shook her head. ‘I don’t believe you.’ Her voice came out nearly hoarse.
‘Toby Grimshaw confirmed it. Jac, you had a hazmat team out here, for crying out loud.’
‘No, no, no,’ she said, and continued to shake her head. There was no way—no way—that was true.
‘Yes, Jac,’ Mac said, nodding at her.
‘Hayden wouldn’t do that,’ she said, her voice gaining strength. ‘Brayden wouldn’t, either.’
‘Seriously?’ Mac shot her a glance, his green eyes incredulous. ‘None of the Terrances are choirboys, Jac.’
‘I know that,’ she snapped. ‘I know Hayden’s done some shonky stuff in the past, but there is no way he would do this, not with Brayden, not to me…’
‘Your father fired his father for drinking on the job,’ Mac argued. ‘You think he wouldn’t use you guys, even for just a little payback?’
‘That was years ago,’ Jacinta exclaimed, ‘and those brothers kept coming out to Bulls’ Run to hang out with us. You should know, Jayden was one of your friends, too.’
Mac pulled into the Bulls’ Run’s main drive and braked hard. ‘Which is why I know what they’re capable of,’ he retorted, unbuckling his seat belt with a ferocity that surprised her. He was out of the car and stalking to open the gate with a speed that showed just how angry he was.
Jac folded her arms, her lips tight. Damn it, he was so wrong.
In moments he was back in the car and driving through the gate, only to stop and get out again to close the gate behind him. She shook her head. No, she wasn’t going to do this. She was too steamed.
She got out of the car. ‘I’ll walk from here,’ she said, slamming the car door shut.
‘Get in the car, Jac,’ Mac muttered as he strode around to the driver’s door.
‘No. I’d rather walk, thanks,’ she snapped back at him.
He glared at her over the roof of the car, his features harsh with an anger she’d rarely seen him show.
‘Get in the car, or I will cuff you and take you back to town,’ he told her in a low voice.
She gaped at him. ‘Are you serious?’
He braced his hands against frame of the car, his forearm muscles flexing as he gripped the car tightly.
‘There was a meth lab operating right here on Bulls’ Run, Jacinta,’ he said quietly, and so calmly it had her stopping in her tracks to listen. ‘You expect me to believe you didn’t know anything about it? The kind of operation that could happen in a place only someone with an intimate knowledge of your property would be familiar with?’ he said, using his fingers to list off his points. ‘You’re trying to tell me that A: it could continue to operate right under your nose without you knowing, and B: that you couldn’t use profits to help you keep the farm?’
She stumbled back as though he’d pushed her. ‘Bloody hell,’ she whispered. ‘You actually think that, don’t you?’
He squinted up at the sky for a moment. ‘It’s no secret that you and your dad are in financial trouble, Jac.’
Her shoulders sagged. ‘Take a look around, Mac,’ she said, waving to encompass the broad landscape. ‘Pretty much everyone in this area has financial trouble. But … drugs?’ Hurt washed over her. That last image of Kelsey, the one she hated but seemed burned into her memory, flashed through her mind, and she shook her head—to shake it out, but also in instinctive, reactive, visceral denial. ‘How could you think I’d be involved with drugs?’ The very thought was so offensive, it made her eyes burn.
He pressed his lips together, as though trying to bite off some words. ‘That burn, Jac, that explosion from the other day, the one that sent you flying and incinerated your little mate,’ he said, and this time she couldn’t blink away the hot tear that rolled down her cheek, ‘that was from a well-established laboratory.’ His right fist clenched. ‘We’re not talking a couple of cones of weed. We’re talking methamphetamines, drums of stuff, liquid, that built up gases that caused such an explosive reaction it changed your landscape.’
She folded her arms, hugging herself as though she could use the movement as a shield against the suspicious ring of fact in his words.
‘That stuff didn’t just appear there. It had to be carted in. Driven in. If it wasn’t done in bulk, it was done over time, in repetitive trips, and you say you know nothing about it.’ Mac shook his head. ‘I don’t believe you.’
She held herself tightly, trying not to splinter under the harsh distrust those words held.
‘I didn’t know,’ she whispered hoarsely.
Mac shook his head, his expression closed. ‘Get in the car.’
She hesitated, but seeing the grim look on his face, she didn’t want to challenge his patience. She got in the car.
They rode up to the house in a cold, deafening silence. The centre console separated them, along with some sort of computer system, but it may as well have been an ever-increasing chasm. She could feel the chilled distance growing between them with every bump and lurch of the car.
Mac braked in front of the house, and a cloud of red dust that had followed them from the gate billowed up and enveloped the car for a moment, enclosing them in a red shroud of silence. She almost felt stifled, before it gradually subsided.
If it had been ‘Mac’ driving her home, he would have driven around the back, like all of their friends. No, she finally got it. ‘Mac’ wasn’t driving her home, it was Detective Sergeant Macarthur Hudson doing the honours. In a freakin’ squad car, no less.
The front door opened, and her father stepped out. Today he wore a collared shirt, his sle
eve pinned to his side. His expression was curious at first, then relieved when he saw her in the front seat. He lifted his hand and waved.
Jacinta waved back. He looked … well, he looked almost happy to see her, a slight smile on his face. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. It had been so long since she’d seen anything remotely like a smile on his face, it was a bittersweet experience now. ‘You can’t mention anything to him,’ she said, keeping her gaze on her father.
‘Jac—’
‘Please,’ she said in a whisper. ‘He can’t know about this. He can’t be stressed out about it—this would send him back over the deep end.’ And he’d only just managed to crawl back to the ledge. It wouldn’t take much to push him back into a depression. ‘I’ve bought the mortgage. I’m the landowner of record, so you need to discuss this with me, not him.’
Mac’s sigh was gusty. She smiled at her dad, but her words were for Mac. ‘This—we didn’t do this, Mac. There’s another explanation, and I intend to figure it out, but it’s not us.’ She grabbed the door lever, then hesitated, then turned to look him in the eye. ‘There is no way I would ever get involved with drugs,’ she said to him, low and fierce and oozing as much sincerity as her indignation would allow. Hurt gradually burned away under the swell of anger. How could he think such a thing? After Kelsey… no. This just didn’t make any sense whatsoever.
She got out of the car, and slammed the door shut with more force than necessary.
Mac lowered the window and looked out at her. ‘We’re not finished, here, Jac. We need to talk.’
‘Count on it,’ she said, and walked toward her father. Hell, yeah, there were plenty of things she wanted to say, but for now she was too angry, too sore, and too tired to properly formulate a logical position. No, at the moment she’d probably rant, rage and then hit Mac, so saving that discussion for another time worked. ‘Later.’
He nodded, but it was obvious he wasn’t happy. Well, great, because she definitely wasn’t feeling like Susie Sunshine at the moment, either.
Hope Echoes Page 5