‘Don’t do that to a man carrying a hot coffee. I’ll forget what I was meant to be doing.’
She shrugged the shirt over her shoulders, blushing at her nudity.
‘Haven’t you heard of knocking first?’ she retorted, wondering why this felt so normal.
‘On my own bedroom door?’ He grinned at her, looking boyish, happy. The black trackpants hung low on his hips and the muscles in his arms rippled. Ellie felt the hunger low in her stomach. She wanted to kiss that trail of dark hair down to the drawstring again.
He groaned. ‘Don’t look at me like that if you want breakfast. Unless you have something else in mind?’
‘Like what? It’s not every day room service arrives so underdressed.’
‘Likewise, so cover up or be warned.’ His voice was husky.
Ellie parted the shirt, provocative, teasing. He placed the mug down. ‘I warned you . . .’ As he turned to her, she squealed and ran, but he was too fast, trapping her against the wardrobe. ‘In a hurry?’ His lips were warm and she felt the hunger building in her again.
‘Hmm, just as I remembered,’ she murmured.
His eyes were suddenly serious and she regretted for an instant that she’d let her guard down with such a demanding, focused man. What did she really know about him?
‘I don’t do this with every woman I meet, Ellie. Believe me.’ His eyes were dark now, with some hidden emotion. ‘Whatever happens from now on between us will be the truth, your truth and mine. Don’t walk away from it without giving us a chance. Today’s going to be harder than yesterday. I know that and so do you. Last night? This morning? It was a few hours of sanity amidst the madness.’
She had to fight to stay composed, her apprehension at his words swamping her. ‘I know, I know,’ she whispered.
He ran his hands down her arms, settling them on her hips. ‘And that’s why you need to eat.’ He pulled her close and feathered a line of kisses from the corner of her mouth to her temple. ‘So, when you’re ready, breakfast is waiting, then we need to talk.’
He had music playing down low in the living room and a phone to his ear when she joined him. She’d twisted her hair into a loose knot, shrugged on a T-shirt and cargo pants. With a twinge of disappointment she saw he was wearing a faded sweatshirt. She kind of liked the trackpants – shirt optional – look.
She’d expected to feel different this morning; shy, maybe, off balance, but everything about the man and his house set her at ease, relaxed. She could get used to it. When he hung up the phone she saw him make a visible effort to remove his frown, but he waited until they’d eaten and the dishes were stacked in the sink.
He gestured at the table. She sat down again, knowing the mood of playful ease was about to be shattered.
He picked up a pile of newspapers she hadn’t noticed stacked to one side. ‘You need to see these so you know what’s being said, but first you need to know that they found Teisha. I’m sorry, Ellie, she was found floating in the Harbour.’
‘No!’ Ellie didn’t think she wanted to hear how the other woman had died, but she needed to know if Alex was involved with that as well.
‘I don’t have the details yet.’ The way his eyes slid away from hers told Ellie that he wasn’t being upfront. ‘The papers are also full of Alex’s shooting. They’ve already connected the two events. Some of it’s pretty torrid stuff.’
Ellie looked down at her hands and realised they were clasped together, knuckles white. ‘Gutter press. The feeding frenzy will go on for days.’ She sounded bitter and didn’t care. The insinuations when Nina died had been relatively muted, but still they’d hurt. Now, no matter what his faults, she knew she would defend Alex. He’d died deflecting attention from her. She too would have been headline fodder without his intervention.
‘The police need to interview you, Ellie. Several departments are lining up to do that.’ He reached across the table and covered her hands with his. Their warmth steadied her. ‘Ellie.’ It was only when he reached across and wiped her chin that she realised she was crying. They were silent tears of sorrow for a friend she would never joke with again, never argue with, never touch. One more link with Nina was gone. Nick pushed his chair back and came to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her. ‘I’ll be there with you.’
They stayed like that for a minute, then he straightened, his hands resting on her shoulders. She tipped her head back against him. ‘Thank you.’
‘I need to collect some reports from work. The boss has scheduled an emergency meeting today. I’ll be back about one. We’re due to meet the police at two. Will you . . .?’ His hands squeezed a little tighter.
‘I’ll be fine. I have work to do as well. I’ll keep busy.’ She struggled to keep her voice steady. She was anything but. He kissed her temple and she heard him breathe in. Then he stepped away, taking the energy with him.
Half an hour later, she was alone in the house. The newspapers were full of lurid details about body parts being found at the home of Alex Creighton. Whoever was behind this was going to make sure he took the fall for Teisha’s death. Ellie didn’t know whether the woman’s death made her more angry or sad. Right now she felt as though the rollercoaster of her life had tipped over the top and was hurtling down the curves and bends towards a brick wall. The glow of last night was all but gone.
She wanted more answers and she figured she had a couple of hours to search Nina’s computer before this afternoon’s appointment with the cops. Research would stop her reliving the shooting. She was surprised Nick hadn’t asked about Nina’s laptop this morning, but maybe he thought she’d been bluffing about it. Maybe he didn’t know what she was implying.
She carried it up to the office. It was dwarfed by Nick’s desk but she settled into the leather chair, tucked one leg up underneath her and started working through every file. Nina had been meticulous and everything was labelled and saved. Surely the last story she was working on would be there in chronological order?
Frustrated when she reached the end of the list without results, Ellie drummed her fingers on her knee. Could it be online? They both used cloud technology to archive information. It took a couple of minutes to log Nina’s computer on to the internet. Ellie clicked on the History tab. The most recent date recorded was the day Nina was shot. The last link listed on that day was that of the online storage site. She followed the link. Two attempts and the ‘failed log-in attempt’ message flashed red on the screen.
‘Damn.’ Ellie rocked back in the chair. ‘Damn, damn, damn.’
Now what? If she handed it over to the police they would be able to access the storage site. But . . . Then she may never know exactly what set this tragedy in motion.
She tried another tack and typed the name of the building company behind the development into a search engine. Multiple links appeared. Several were newspaper stories and she frowned as she read the by-lines. Alex Creighton had connections to it long before she’d taken an interest in the company. She quickly read through the stories. Glowing advertorials, every one of them. What was Alex thinking?
She found a small article from the Financial Review questioning some of the fundamentals of the firm and its involvement in Defence contracts in Afghanistan. She jotted down the name of the journalist.
When she typed that name into the search engine she stared in disbelief at an obituary for the man. Was it a coincidence? She couldn’t sit still, adrenalin making her fidget. Further down the page, she found a story on the single-car accident that had claimed his life. A set-up? There was no doubt in her mind now that Alex had been trying to block her from telling the story. Duplicity every way she turned.
She took the stairs two at a time and burst into the courtyard. Shadow followed her with an expectant wag of his tail. A dove landed on the back fence and she raised her hands to frame it.
‘Photos! Nina’s photos.’ She hurried back inside and grabbed her own computer. If she paired the two machines, she should be able to use her software
to search for any matches to the men in the black-and-white photos she found on the old camera.
The technology played the game. Nina’s photos were just as methodically stored as her Word documents but the first match it threw up was a jpeg file titled ‘Diggers or Drug Lords?’ Ellie felt the jolt all the way to her fingertips. Nina had photographed her story and stored it as an image. Ellie couldn’t help but hear Nina’s voice as she read through it.
First World countries have a habit of overlooking the real economies of the Third World. The chances of viable agriculture maturing to a sustainable level are slim in a country where infrastructure is patchy, supply lines unsecured, and the workforce decimated by years of war.
Ellie remembered the roads full of decrepit aging cars vying for space with military convoys and the private contractors’ shiny vehicles that oozed contempt for lesser beings. Poppy fields in bloom that were strangely beautiful. She recognised several of her photos imbedded in Nina’s story.
Poppies provide income. They provide food, clothing and shelter for those fortunate enough to be gainfully employed. It’s easy for Westerners to vilify these farmers for producing an addictive crop, but when will we take responsibility for creating the market forces of demand that ratchet up the economic imperative of supply? If the dollars we’d squandered on war had been spent on turning poppies to crocuses, then saffron might well have been the saviour of this difficult region. Instead we continue to mourn our fallen soldiers while doing little to help the Afghani economy move forward.
Nina’s strong pacifist streak always coloured her stories. Ellie sighed, feeling empty and alone. The next was a story about the effects of the war on the Australian troops, especially those injured in the course of combat. Then there was a collection of pieces about the rise of warlords who’d previously been drug kingpins.
The last story was more like an outline – a series of dot points, story threads and questions. Nina had identified the connection between Phil Ah Tak with his Chinese triad, the Afghani warlord Hamid Daulat, and Beyond Borders Strikeforce. Ellie googled them, looking for further threads.
‘Got you.’ The developers working with O’Sullivan were an Australian subsidiary of the same parent company that controlled BBS. Ellie stared into space. All the players were there, interconnected, but the shape didn’t look right. Who was the central figure linking all the contacts? Was Teisha involved or just collateral damage? Was her sugar daddy part of the multinational developer?
Ellie logged onto Facebook, found the photo of Teisha and Lachlan, framed him and his ice-blue eyes, then hit Search. It took seconds and she was looking at a photo of her sister wrapped in Lachlan’s arms. ‘Oh fuck, no!’ Ellie’s stomach churned. Lachlan and Nina? Several more photos loaded, showing her sister with him at social functions, in parks, in bars and restaurants in Western cities. Using Nina’s detailed records, moments later Ellie had his full name. Lachlan Meriden. Were they an item or was Nina just using him for information? Or money? Was that the explanation for the bank accounts? Could Nina have been at the heart of a drug deal?
Ellie’s agitated hand rolled the mouse as she stared at the screen, shifting the images around in her head. Someone had brought the different operations all together. Could it really have been Nina? Surely she was only setting up the story, checking facts, investigating. Ellie didn’t want to believe her sister had done anything illegal. She was headstrong, opinionated and driven, but surely she wouldn’t cross the line?
She froze as the next image downloaded. Nina was laughing with a group of helmeted soldiers. Her blond hair was blown back, her face full of life. And there, on one side of her, stood Nicholas Lawson, looking aloof and untouchable, forbidding.
Ellie slumped in the chair, her breath rushing out and taking a piece of her heart with it. Nick knew Nina had been killed in Kandahar not because he’d heard about it second hand, but because he’d actually been there.
She dragged her hands down her face, numb with betrayal.
An arrow of memory pierced her mind. All the little moments of niggling recollection coalesced: his watch, face-up on his right wrist as he shook hands with her at the airport when she was departing. He’d been there when the door of the aircraft closed, his salute poignant. Like so many other images from that terrible time, his face had been locked in her subconscious.
She wrapped her arms around her, the chill spreading from her heart. How could she, a photographer, have forgotten a face so completely? Nick must have been walking on eggshells, waiting for her to remember. No wonder he kept insisting he couldn’t tell her the truth yet.
She turned back to the screen. The next document in Nina’s photo stash listed details of bank statements that showed deposits, each in excess of $25 000, being directed into a trust account. That account was identified as having a sole signatory, one Alexander Creighton. The Porsche was registered to Alex, so not a rental car at all. The document also catalogued the same news articles written by Alex that Ellie had already read extolling the developer’s virtues. Was that the explanation for the money in Nina’s accounts? Had she succumbed to cash for comments as well? Or was it worse than that?
The article Nina was working on had all the elements of a headline-stealer. It was capable of blowing a drug syndicate with all its tentacles out of the water. But was her sister using the money to finance the deal, or was it a pay-off not to publish?
And Nick? How could he make love to her as though she was the only person in the world, all the while knowing he was living a lie?
She couldn’t take it. She jumped to her feet and ran down the stairs. With the phone tucked under her chin, she threw her clothes into her bag.
‘Hello, a taxi please.’ She gave the address. ‘Off to Bankstown, and I have a dog.’
The home phone rang, startling her, but she ignored it, leaving the answering machine to pick it up.
‘Ellie? Are you there?’ The molten dark voice filled the room and her heart raced despite her anger. There was a pause and she sat on her hands to prevent herself reaching for the phone. ‘I’ve finished here, so I should be home in half an hour.’ He hung up and Ellie scrabbled to turn her mobile phone off before it too rang.
She hadn’t felt so alone since that long flight home with Nina. Damn him. She buried her face in her hands. Why was she such a fool?
49
Ellie walked up her front drive with mixed feelings, her leather bag in her hand, the afternoon sun casting long shadows. She was exhausted from the flight north. Her dog didn’t look in much better shape. For once the view from the cockpit had done nothing to soothe her. She barely remembered to thank Dave as he helped her push the aircraft into its cosy hangar. Now here she was, back in Half Moon Bay with answers she wished she’d never found as the sky turned pink with impending sunset.
Home. Would it still bring her comfort and peace?
She stopped dead in her tracks. The back door was ajar. The immediate rush of adrenalin shook her. She could see curtains wafting in the breeze that filtered in through open windows. Common sense asserted itself. An intruder wasn’t going to air the house. She pushed the door open, hoping its lower hinge didn’t squeak. Shadow charged past her, feet skidding on the polished floor, and launched himself into the lounge room.
‘Hey, big fella! Miss me?’ The laugh that echoed through the house made Ellie run as she followed Shadow down the corridor.
‘Dad? You’re home!’ Ellie found herself caught up in a bear hug that threatened to crack her ribs. ‘When did you get here? Why didn’t you ring?’
‘If you’d answered your phone this afternoon, I’d have told you.’ Tom Wilding put his daughter down on her feet, but still kept hold of her arms. His vivid blue eyes never strayed from her face. Smile lines radiated from his eyes, but his expression was pensive. He looked older, more silver than red in his hair now.
Ellie didn’t have to try hard to smile. ‘I was a bit busy flying at the time.’ She planted another kiss on his cheek, th
e smell of his old-fashioned aftershave comforting. ‘I’m so glad you’re here. The house was too empty without you. And you’re just in time to help clean up O’Sullivan’s mess.’
He laughed. ‘So I hear. I got your emails and phone messages, but communications aren’t all that good in remote WA yet. And that flash satellite phone is about as useful as a chocolate teapot. I don’t think I ever managed to get to a call in time. Retrieving messages was chewing through my data allowance. Drove me nuts.’
‘You and me both. I got tired of leaving voice messages, but at least I could hear your voice.’
‘And I’m here now. You okay?’ he asked. ‘I’ve heard you’ve had a pretty gruelling week. I’m so sorry about Alex. He was a good man. So were his parents.’ His eyes were serious now.
‘Who’s been telling tales out of school?’ she asked.
‘Nick Lawson.’
She pulled away from him, her voice harsh. ‘That lying coward.’ She almost spat the last word as she dropped onto the couch, trying to erase the picture of Nick asleep on it.
‘Ellie, give him a chance to explain.’
‘There’s nothing else he needs to say to me, ever. He made me care about him and then . . .’ She choked off her words.
‘Made you do anything you didn’t want to?’ Tom sounded surprised. ‘I know he’s a bit arrogant when he needs to be, but I didn’t think you’d let any mere male tell you what to do, even an ex-major from an engineering corp.’
Ellie snorted derisively. ‘I knew he was army, but he never bothered to share that piece of history with me. He set me up as part of his investigations and he lied from start to finish. If you knew him that well, you wouldn’t be defending him.’
‘When you ran away after Nina died, that young man kept me sane,’ her father said slowly. Ellie’s head snapped around, surprised to see unshed tears in his eyes as he continued. ‘Whatever the Board of Inquiry found, I know the truth and so does he. I could never call him a friend, if he wasn’t an honourable man.’
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