Unfortunately O’Sullivan keeps claiming I’m just a sore loser after I was voted out in the last election. It’s got nothing to do with that, but we’re not winning the publicity war. We need help and your friend Felicity suggested we write to you. I know it’s a huge favour to ask of you, but we were wondering if we could persuade you to come home. Half Moon Bay needs you, Ellie. We need you.
Look forward to discussing this further.
Regards,
Ron and Mavis
Ellie straightened up. These were the people who’d helped shape her life, who’d supported her family. She’d jumped on the first flight out of South Africa and headed back to the northern New South Wales coast. By the time she arrived in Half Moon Bay, Ron was convinced there was also a tie-in between suspected drug running in the Port Newel fishing fleet and O’Sullivan. Disillusioned with the local authority’s lack of response, Ron wanted Ellie to investigate.
She had to agree Ron’s evidence was compelling so she’d already started calling in favours. Contacts were a journalist’s most prized assets. Now was as good a time as any to put them to work.
It was good to be home amongst friends again, but confronting as well. Everything reminded her of Nina. Ellie couldn’t stop the deep sigh that left her feeling deflated.
Two years ago she’d taken a fashion shoot job back in the UK, against her sister’s wishes, and left Nina working alone in Kandahar. If she hadn’t made that choice, would Nina still be alive?
Ellie knew she had to stop looking backwards and turn her face to the future. She’d never been brave enough to discover what it was that made Nina take such a senseless risk in Kandahar. Never had the courage to open her sister’s laptop and look. Maybe it was time to put the ghosts to rest.
She pulled a face at Shadow. ‘Time to roll the sleeves up, rip off the gloves and see what’s really hiding out in Half Moon Bay.’ Far easier to fight other people’s battles than confront her own demons.
The dog’s tail thumped on the floor.
Reversing the planning board’s decision was achievable with a lot of hard work. Proving corruption was a tougher agenda. Tracking drug running and maybe money laundering? She was still deciding where to start.
It was a challenge Nina would have revelled in. She had almost been expelled in the last year of school for protesting against cuts to health funding which saw the local hospital slated for closure. She’d bailed up the unsuspecting health minister and demanded the decision be reconsidered. She probably shouldn’t have sworn at him and she definitely shouldn’t have tipped red cordial all over him. As a thirteen-year-old, Ellie didn’t know whether to be proud or embarrassed by her older sister.
Mrs Bell suspended Nina, whose punishment was to write an essay arguing the case for keeping the hospital. It was published in national newspapers and Nina’s career never looked back.
The sharp pang of loneliness made Ellie shift on her feet, the ache in her heart a physical hit. The house seemed so suddenly empty. For a fleeting moment, her resolve faltered. She was sorry she’d come home. Sorry her father wasn’t here to hold her tight and tell her they’d be fine, that the two of them would survive, that Nina was watching over them.
Ellie sipped the tea and opened the local paper. The page-three lead story focused on the development. She examined the photograph heading the article. Good composition, although the light was a bit bright. Lord Mayor O’Sullivan at his overweight best with two, no four, double chins. She gave in to a wry smile. The contrast with the figure next to him couldn’t be greater. Nicholas Lawson, the engineer for the property developer. Imposing physique, well-cut suit and a killer smile, which had apparently melted every female heart in the vicinity.
‘Damn him for being so good-looking. Harder to fight him.’ Her words echoed in the empty kitchen as she read the story outlining the development proposal and the fanfare of the Lord Mayor’s announcement. No mention of the community’s outrage, or how the developer had gained almost overnight approval for a beachfront development that would change the face of their town forever. All without a shred of community consultation.
Shadow scrambled to his feet and shot outside, the rumble in his throat changing to a growl. Ellie folded the newspaper, begrudging the disruption to her early morning peace. Who would call at this time of day?
3
The sun had blinded him for the half-hour drive into Half Moon Bay, leaving him nowhere to hide except behind his sunglasses. It cut through the bone-deep weariness, but did nothing to ease the ache behind his eyes.
Ex-Major Nicholas Lawson gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and squinted. It would have been easy to say no to this gig. Hand over the information and let someone else deal with it. Too much at stake if he got it wrong, too many old wounds about to have their scabs ripped off. Too many lives turned upside down again.
But he’d said yes.
No one could ever call him a coward. Ice-cold arsehole, grim over-achiever, perhaps, but his courage was never at issue. He’d always assumed he’d have to finish this job one day. He had no choice but to follow it through.
First stop had to be Tom Wilding. He deserved to know trouble was marching his way. He couldn’t tell him everything, but he could give him a heads-up. It was the least he could do.
Nick drove up the main street at the regulation fifty k’s. The town hadn’t changed much in two years. A couple of shops had new names and a few extra trees were scratching an existence on the kerbside. Graffiti daubed over a newly painted toilet block proclaimed Half Moon Bay to be fucked. The pub on the cliff top had changed colour. Mediterranean pink didn’t cut it for him.
He turned right at the T-junction. The road meandered along the coast, rising and falling with the land, giving him glimpses of a washboard-like silver ocean. He glanced in the rear-vision mirror at the nose of his surfboard poking over the back seat. Whatever else happened in the next few weeks he was going to make time to ride the right-hand break that curled off the nearby headland. Angourie was legendary.
He pulled into a lay-by a kilometre or so from the house. The car beeped as he locked it. The chain-linked boards slipped under his leather soles as he walked through the cutting in the dunes. Stopping short of the sand, he shoved his hands into his pockets and breathed in, the tang of salt air a tonic for fatigue.
The surf was a clean one and a half metres, building on the sand bar and curling over in a green tube. Half a dozen early risers were jockeying for position. Away to his right the next headland jutted into the beach. A dog was chasing seagulls along the curve of sand.
Could it be Shadow? The Doberman he recalled was no doubt pushing up daisies by now somewhere near Tom’s house. From this vantage point the beach shack was almost hidden by the low trees. His phone chirped in his pocket and he sighed in irritation. Couldn’t they leave him in peace, even this early?
He pushed his sunglasses onto the top of his head and swore as he read aloud: ‘Public rally tomorrow. Can you be there?’ He sighed. ‘Of course I’ll fucking be there. Who else can talk the locals around to support this development? Not the fucking mayor who’s sold them out.’ The man was a fool. It would do their scheme no good if he came within a fifty-kilometre radius of the place without minders.
He kicked off his shoes and dragged his socks off. Fuck it! No point fronting up in this mood. He needed to clear his head before he saw Tom.
Three minutes later he dived through the first line of breakers. The surfboard could wait for another day. The need to swim, burn off anger, was an urgent compulsion.
Goosebumps rashed up his body. The sinuous slide of cold water over his skin instantly dropped his irritation by half. The salt stung his eyes, but he ignored it as his feet found the shifting sand of the bottom. A set was building one hundred metres out and he stroked hard to position himself for the second wave. The pull on his muscles, the rhythm of his kick, put the world almost back on kilter. As he launched himself down the face of a glassy wave, kicking to
stay ahead of the white water, he felt his anger dissipate, replaced by the adrenalin rush of bodysurfing.
Half an hour later, hair sticking on end and board shorts low on his hips, he dragged a long-sleeve tee down over his chest, feeling invigorated.
No more delaying action. It was time. He glanced at his watch. Maybe Tom would cook him breakfast. The man knew how to fry eggs and bacon almost as well as an army cook. And Nick had brought coffee with him, dark rich New Guinea Gold that brewed like treacle.
He parked the car by the gate and slung his backpack over his shoulder. Apprehension slithered across his abdomen. It was no certainty that Tom would welcome him. The situation last time had been a little different.
4
Ellie opened the French doors wide and stepped out onto the verandah to find Shadow leaning in rapturous ecstasy against a pair of long legs, eyes shut from the joy of an ear scratch. The newspaper photo hadn’t done Nicholas Lawson justice, she decided with a quick frown. And a suit was not his natural habitat. It seemed boardies and T-shirts were.
‘Can I help you?’ Ellie kept her tone neutral.
‘Good morning, what a lovely spot.’ His voice suited him. Deep, relaxed, assured. ‘The view’s amazing.’ The flash of alarm in his eyes was gone before she could be certain she wasn’t imagining it.
‘It is.’ That she couldn’t deny.
‘Sorry to intrude at this hour.’
She tilted her head to one side. ‘A little early for uninvited social visits.’
He smiled, easy, comfortable, ignoring the edge in her voice. ‘Never too early to admire a good view.’ He pushed his sunglasses onto his head and she found herself pinned by a pair of very dark eyes. A flush fled across her cheeks. Embarrassed at her body’s quick response, Ellie retreated into misplaced anger.
‘It’s private property.’
He didn’t bite, just held out his hand, long fingers, broad palm, as he walked up the couple of steps. ‘Nicholas, Nicholas Lawson.’ The sleeve was pushed up his wrist far enough to reveal the glint of an expensive watch. Even as she ignored his outstretched hand she registered that the face of the watch was turned inwards on his wrist, facing his body. Where had she seen that before?
‘Really?’ She drew out the two syllables. ‘So are you trying to sell me something this morning? Real estate, life insurance?’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Salvation?’
She savoured the small satisfaction of watching his hand drop to his side, but the flash of humour in his face unsettled her. His lips twitched as if they held tightly to a secret. He was looking directly into her eyes, even though he was below her on the steps.
‘You don’t look like you need saving.’ His grin was disarming. ‘I was actually looking for Tom. Is he home?’
‘No.’
‘So, do you know when he will be?’
‘Nope.’
‘Some time this morning, perhaps?’
Her voice had a triumphant edge. ‘Not that I’m expecting.’
He managed to avoid any signs of exasperation. ‘Can I leave a message, then?’
‘Sure. I’ll pass it on next time I’m talking to him. Though knowing Tom, I doubt he’ll return your call.’
He lifted a dark eyebrow, a sardonic gleam in his eyes. ‘Really? And you are?’
‘That’s not important, Nicholas Lawson.’ She couldn’t stop her smile this time. ‘But I will pass your message on, really . . .’ She was not going to cooperate with the enemy, but it was hard work staying angry with him.
Those forbidding eyebrows lowered, emphasising the angular shape of his face. This was not a man used to having his orders ignored by anyone, Ellie suspected. She could feel her amusement rising at his reluctance to leave. She certainly hadn’t been subtle. He got full marks for tenacity.
‘Good-looking dog.’ Lawson bent down to pat the black head nudging him.
Ellie snapped her fingers at Shadow, who ambled across to her side. ‘He’s a guard dog. A necessity, it seems, since I have to live with the risk of unwelcome visitors.’
Nick gave a half laugh.
The breeze sliding in off the water seeped through her now and she crossed her arms against the chill, conscious of his gaze wandering over her again.
‘Hope he doesn’t greet all your visitors like that, then. I can see why a woman like you might appreciate some protection out here.’ The words were a low rumble with an undercurrent Ellie couldn’t mistake for anything other than humour.
‘I think we’re done, Mr Lawson. Don’t waste your time visiting again. Tom will no doubt know where to contact you if he wants to.’ And it’s unlikely he’s going to cut short his holiday to do business with a corrupt developer, she thought.
He dug in the front pocket of his backpack and held out a business card. ‘Give him my regards. Tell him I’m sorry I missed him. I’ll be in touch.’
In the instant she took the card, she felt a jolt of awareness, a tangible pulse that made her hand jerk away from his touch. Ridiculous. It was just static electricity, very common at this time of year.
‘I’ll do that.’ Her tone clearly implied the opposite, but Nicholas didn’t rise to the bait.
‘Thanks, Ms Wilding.’
She raised one eyebrow. ‘Who?’
‘You must be Tom’s daughter, the photographer. You look like him. A prettier version, sexy, even.’ His laugh was a smoky rumble as he spun on his heel.
‘Don’t presume to know anything about me, Mr Lawson.’
He hefted his pack and strode away, power in the length of his stride.
Ellie watched him leave, her back straight and her heart thudding in her chest. His face was arresting. She could see those dark good looks in a black-and-white print, set amongst some ancient ruins on a sun-drenched Greek Island – a warrior girded for battle, a gladiator entering the colosseum, the crowd baying for blood . . .
Foolish girl, she chided herself. That particular model would be way too disturbing through the lens of a camera. And he’s the enemy.
But he had one hell of a smile, she had to admit.
Nick slammed the car door. Damn it. He should have done some more research before he blundered in. The last time he’d checked on Ellie Wilding’s whereabouts, she was hiding her pain in some godforsaken African dictatorship, beaming back images of poverty and corruption. Now, barely dressed in running clothes, with damp hair curling round her face, she was disturbingly familiar.
He acknowledged that the trauma of war had left some of his memories locked in his innermost mind, but not that one. He shook his head in disbelief. He didn’t need her presence here to complicate things and re-awaken those memories. How could he ever forget the steely reserve in Ellie that had helped her through what was surely the most traumatic twenty-four hours of her life?
He stabbed the key into the ignition. Now was not the time to have to deal with two-year-old cover-ups and mistakes that still haunted him. At least she hadn’t recognised him. There’d been nothing but amused challenge in those navy blue eyes. And why would she remember him? He’d met her twice on that tragic day in Afghanistan. Both times he was seething, grim with grief and covered in the grime of war.
Now here she was again. A worthy adversary who wasn’t going to lie down and see her community ripped off. She was more beautiful, more sexy, with her feisty defiance, than she had been in the middle of hell in Afghanistan.
The anger left him as quickly as it had come.
If he’d known that he’d find her here in the seaside backwater of Half Moon Bay, would he still have accepted the undercover assignment?
He sighed. Yes, of course he would have. It was a matter of principle. He would just have to keep his unruly emotions under tight control. After all, twenty-four hours, two years ago, was not the basis for a friendship, even. Especially when Ellie had never heard the whole story of Nina’s shooting.
The thought stopped him. Was that why she was here? Did she know about the drugs? Maybe she’d found something herself? I
t was inevitable that one day she would come looking for the truth. He gunned the accelerator as he hit the sealed road, focused on the work he had to do. He couldn’t risk losing Tom’s only remaining daughter.
5
Ellie sipped the cold tea, her breathing slowing with each mouthful. Nicholas Lawson’s sardonic face eased into focus, frame by frame. Men are so obvious. Did he really think he could wander round Half Moon Bay and charm the residents into accepting his proposal? And why did Shadow treat him like a long-lost friend? The dog didn’t make friends easily. That was the strangest aspect of the whole morning.
Still, Lawson was about to find out there was more opposition than he bargained for in Half Moon Bay. It could be fun bringing down an opponent who was so confident. Note to self: Keep him out of any photos used in the campaign against the development! No one would be looking at the scenery.
Ellie wandered out to the verandah again and curled up in the squatters chair, the French doors open wide behind her, the early breeze flicking the long pale curtains. Idly, she scanned through the rest of the newspaper.
The world headlines were bleak, yet Australia seemed so far from it all. She raised her eyes towards the sea, drinking in the beauty around her.
Working as a freelance photojournalist had taken her all over the world, yet the only place she found peace was here, soothed by the waves with the sand between her toes. The Bay was home, no matter how brief the visits. Hotel suites and friends’ guest rooms never offered her this sense of belonging. The timeless beauty of this place recharged her and reminded her that there was more to life than a career. Burning ambition didn’t keep her warm at night. Nor did it fill the empty ache in her heart . . .
Unbidden, the memory of the speculative warmth in Nicholas Lawson’s gaze sent a tide of heat through her body.
Half Moon Bay Page 3