Lethal in Love

by Michelle Somers

  ‘Now you’ve cleared that up for me, yes.’ He raised his brows and waited.

  ‘They found Anna Jones’ great-aunt just north of Sydney in a place called Wyong.’ She rubbed her eyes and pushed her hair back from her face. ‘She suffers from dementia, drifts in and out of clarity and the local detectives haven’t been able to get any sense out of her so far. The staff says that Anna called her great-aunt every Friday at 5 pm for the past ten years—until three months ago. After she missed two Fridays in a row, the administrator tried to contact her, only to find both her mobile and home number disconnected. He spoke to the local police who told her that on the sole evidence of a couple of missed calls, they were unable to open a missing persons case.’

  ‘Do you think he killed his own mother?’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘It’s not unusual for serial killers to have mummy issues. Why should the Night Terror be any different?’

  ‘My thoughts exactly.’

  Their eyes locked, but as he leaned in to press his lips to hers, she twisted her head. He would have kissed her ear instead—an action that had melted her in the past—but she sidestepped out of reach.

  Mobile in hand, she latched her focus to the screen. ‘I thought I might call all the secondary schools in and around Bunyip to see if Anna registered a child there around sixteen years ago. Then I have a couple of interviews, one with her landlord and the other with an old colleague who’s just returned from Bali.’

  ‘I have a few calls of my own to make. What time do you need to leave so I can be ready?’

  ‘Eleven.’ For every step he took towards her, she took two steps back.

  He grabbed her hand. ‘Are we okay?’

  ‘Sure. There’s just a lot to be done.’ She wrangled free of his grasp and moved towards the door. ‘Do you mind if I make my calls from the study?’

  He shook his head at her retreating back. The renewed distance between them was about more than just a dead cat. Whatever it was, Jayda wasn’t sharing. She’d closed off again, was backing away.

  Not gonna happen.

  There’d be no more secrets between them. About the case, that is. He’d wait until they were in the car, with nowhere for her to run, then he wouldn’t let up until he found out what the hell was going on.

  ‘Where the heck have you been?’

  Seth yanked the phone from his ear and glared at it in lieu of Richie.

  ‘Seth?’ Even at arm’s length, his friend’s booming voice rang loud and clear.

  He brought the mobile cautiously back. ‘I’ve been busy.’

  Richie snorted, then proceeded to mutter something about women and bulls. Reassuring to know some things never changed.

  ‘I hear congrats are in order. Thanks for letting me know you got the job.’

  ‘Sorry, Rich. It’s been so damned crazy, I haven’t told anyone yet.’

  ‘Even Jade?’

  ‘Jayda. And yeah, even her.’

  This time he grunted. ‘So, what’s this big exclusive you’ve promised Carson?’

  ‘Where’d you hear that?’

  ‘You know the newsroom has ears.’

  ‘That muffin boy is a nuisance.’

  ‘But his double choc-chip and raspberry muffins are worth the angst.’

  He couldn’t help but grin. ‘Much as I agree, I didn’t call to talk muffins. I need a favour.’

  ‘Of course you do. You never call, you never write, and you never send me a six-pack of beer—unless you want something.’

  ‘Three words. Corporate. Seats. MCG.’

  ‘Whadoyou want?’ Richie’s words tumbled head over heels down the line. His footy mania made him suitably predictable. But, hey, no foul if they both came out the other end of the deal winners.

  Seth grinned. ‘There’s a detective who works with Jayda—Chase Durant. I need you to use your sources to dig and see what shit you uncover.’

  ‘He’s a detective? I could get my ass kicked for this.’

  ‘Then do it carefully.’

  ‘Why didn’t I think of that?’

  ‘Because I’m the brains of this outfit.’ He glanced towards the door. Not that he expected to see Jayda appear, now that she seemed so determined to avoid him. ‘And while you’re at it, look into a Georgie Tanneras.’

  ‘Don’t tell me. Another detective?’

  ‘Get me info on these two detectives plus a couple of others and there’s an annual club membership upgrade in it for you.’

  ‘Give me their names and I’ll see what I can do.’

  He read out the list of Jayda’s friends and colleagues, Juz, Garry and Darren at the top, and gave Rich all he knew about Anna Jones. Rich had a wealth of contacts—Seth didn’t know who, where or how, and he knew better than to ask. The man was a bank vault when he needed to be, which had suited Seth on more than one occasion, so he saw no reason to complain about the secrecy, as long as he was able to reap the benefits.

  There was a rustle of paper and a click of a pen. ‘And what about the story?’

  Seth’s grip on the phone tightened. ‘I haven’t got it figured out yet.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you’re that close to a detective whose sister was murdered and there’s no dirt. Did you hear her father was being investigated by the OPI?’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘It’s my job to know. It’s called reporting.’

  ‘Touché.’

  ‘Save the smarts for some other sucker. It’s not just your ass if you don’t deliver—I’m the one who convinced Carson to hire you over Ben Priestly.’

  ‘Priestly applied for the job? Knight Investigative Journalism Award winner two years running Ben Priestly?’

  ‘Is there another? His wife’s pregnant and he’s quit travelling to be an in-the-picture dad. I convinced Carson that you’d scoop the shit out of him with less than a quarter of the prima donna attitude. Now Priestley’s working for the Sydney Herald, he’s off the table. If you prove me wrong, I’ll be up shit creek without a canoe, let alone a frigging paddle.’

  ‘Damn. I’m sorry, man.’

  ‘Don’t be sorry. Be productive and write the story.’

  Seth closed his eyes and Jayda’s deep green ones stared back. Trusting him, as she trusted no one else right now. She needed someone to lean on, to be there for her, and as much as he wanted that promotion, he wanted her to need him so much more.

  Richie’s bark broke the silence. ‘You’re not going to do it, are you?’

  ‘I can’t, Rich. Everyone close to her has let her down. I won’t do that too.’

  ‘You’ve gone and fallen for her.’

  The words still sounded good to his ears, even peppered with derision. His heart stuttered. ‘Hard.’

  His friend sighed. ‘You’ve turned into a sap and a half. We need to cut this conversation before it leaches through the phone line and turns me too.’

  ‘So, we’re good?’

  Richie harrumphed. ‘After I voodoo your sorry ass from here to Jamaica, sure.’

  ‘What’ll you do about Carson?’

  ‘I’ll figure something out.’

  ‘Tell him I will discover the identity of the Night Terror and I will get him the story. He won’t regret giving me the position. And neither will you.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking.’

  Seth jerked the car into fourth gear and clenched his jaw. Jayda over-thinking wasn’t a good sign. In fact, it was about as good as the uneasiness wedged between them since Tumbles had wound up on his front doorstep.

  Mind you, she had let him drive. A concession, in her words, to males being more familiar with the operation of a stick shift. He wasn’t quite sure how to take that.

  The heady scent of fresh apples filled the car and he tried not to lose himself in it. It wasn’t easy. He’d grown used to how good it made him feel. How he’d no longer needed to second-guess every move, could grab Jayda and pull her into a kiss, knowing she’d kiss him right back.

  N
ow he was back to second-guessing, and he hated it.

  Jayda sat in the passenger seat, meticulously folding and unfolding the hem of her top. She couldn’t even look at him, when previously her eyes couldn’t get enough.

  ‘You need to take this back.’ She fumbled in her purse. Next thing he knew, she was holding his key out for him to take. ‘I should find somewhere else to stay.’

  His head began to pound. He glanced at her, ignoring the shiny new metal he’d only just had cut. ‘Why?’

  She dropped her hand into her lap. ‘You’re house-sitting and I’m being hunted by a psycho who won’t think twice about collateral damage.’

  The headache faded. He breathed easier. It was so clear now—her distance, her change in mood. He didn’t need her protection, but the fact that she was determined to provide it spoke volumes.

  ‘Like Tumbles?’

  She nodded, her eyes still fixed anywhere but his direction. ‘Everyone I care about is fair game.’

  ‘So what you’re saying is that you care about me?’

  Liquid green stared at him across the car interior. ‘You know I do.’

  He cocked his head. ‘It doesn’t hurt to hear it once in a while.’ He grinned. ‘Not that it matters. You’re not going anywhere. And neither am I.’

  Her head jerked back. ‘You know?’

  ‘The moment the Night Terror left Tumbles on the doorstep I guessed it was his sick way of saying that I’m a target. And it doesn’t change my decision.’

  She stared, wide-eyed and so gorgeous he wanted to pull over and kiss away every line on her heart-stopping face.

  What the hell.

  The car jerked as he twisted the wheel. Jayda’s hand shot up and braced against the dashboard as they skidded into a bus zone. The old lady sitting in the shelter shot him a dirty look. He shrugged, then as an afterthought flicked on the hazard lights.

  Jayda let go of the dash and turned, looking at him like he’d lost his mind. Little did she know he had, from the very first moment he’d laid eyes on her.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘This.’ He released his seatbelt and covered her mouth with his before she could say another word.

  He couldn’t imagine what the woman outside thought now. Not that it mattered. As the flashing lights indicated, this was an emergency.

  His palms bracketed Jayda’s face, his tongue breaching the seam of her lips to taste the wonders inside. She moaned, straining against her seatbelt to kiss him back. Her palms fluttered across his chest and up over his shoulders. She would have crawled into his lap if there was room and he cursed Volkswagen for not building the Beetle more like a sedan.

  The gears pressed uncomfortably into his thigh and he shifted, trying not to break contact. Her hands slid back down to his chest, and where before they’d pulled him towards her, they now pushed him away.

  ‘You’re trying to distract me. It won’t work.’

  ‘Seemed to be working just fine.’ He flashed her a grin. ‘But we could always try again.’

  She shook her head and edged back in her seat, placing as much distance as possible between them. ‘This isn’t a joke, Seth. I won’t be responsible for you getting hurt.’

  ‘You aren’t responsible for anything that madman does. That’s all on him.’

  ‘I couldn’t bear it if he hurt you.’

  ‘Then we’re at an impasse, because I couldn’t bear it if you left.’

  ‘So, what do we do?’

  He grinned and cherry red bloomed across her already flushed cheeks. But, just in case she hadn’t read his thoughts . . .

  ‘I’d say carry on where we left off, but that’d finish the old dear outside.’ He indicated at the woman under the shelter, who looked one breath short of apoplexy.

  A horn behind them solved their dilemma. The large bumper of a city bus loomed in his rear vision mirror, and he waved an apology before hitting the accelerator, leaving it and their audience behind.

  ‘I’m serious, Seth.’

  ‘So am I. Being with you is serious. It’s what I want and nothing that psychopath does will change that.’ He scrubbed his fingers through his hair. ‘I don’t believe splitting up is the answer. We’re so much better together.’

  He reached for her hand.

  She took it and squeezed. ‘We are pretty good.’ Her smile was like sunshine.

  She slipped the key back into her purse. ‘So I guess I’m staying.’

  His heart gave a mental fist pump in the air. ‘I guess you are.’

  56

  Jayda glanced over her shoulder at Seth sitting two booths away.

  A couple of weeks ago she’d have resented his protectiveness, his unwillingness to let her out of his sight—considered it a slur on her ability to take care of herself. Now it made her feel loved, a feeling she’d nearly given up on.

  The coffee mug between her palms was more like a small soup bowl than a cup, and the rich aroma of freshly ground beans stole some of the knots from her shoulders.

  Of all her interviews today, this was the most difficult.

  ‘So it’s serious, then?’

  She looked up from her drink to meet the question in Darren’s gaze. ‘I think so.’

  ‘You don’t know? You’ve got the poor sap wrapped so tight around your finger, he’s about to snap with jealousy.’

  He slid his hand across the white Formica to wrap it around hers. Then, in typical Darren fashion, he shot a large grin Seth’s way and wiggled his fingers in a wave.

  Jayda tugged her hand free. ‘That’s not funny, Darren.’

  ‘Wow, you have got it bad.’ He raised his hand, effectively stopping her from agreeing or denying it. ‘And the fact that he does too makes it perfect. You deserve some of the good stuff, Jayda. And lover-boy looks like he’d be particularly good at the good stuff, even if he is glaring at me as though he’d like nothing better than to rip me limb from limb.’

  ‘He’s looking out for me.’

  ‘And I’m glad he is. I can’t believe someone killed that mangy old cat.’

  ‘Tumbles wasn’t mangy.’

  ‘Unlike his owner.’

  ‘What is it with you and Juz?’

  ‘Something about him doesn’t sit right. Like he’s not quite who he makes out to be.’

  ‘We all have secrets.’ She looked directly at him then. ‘You must have things you’ve never shared with me.’

  He barely wavered. ‘I don’t mean little stuff like failing math at school or wetting the bed. I’m talking big.’

  ‘So am I.’ She bit her lip then launched into the question she’d come to ask before she could talk herself out of it. ‘Was your entire week in Queensland about work?’

  His gaze sharpened, the line of his cheekbones staining with red. ‘You obviously know the answer already, if you’re asking that question. You tell me.’

  ‘I’d rather hear it from you.’

  He sagged backwards into the cracked red vinyl. ‘I wanted to tell you, Jayda. A million times, I wanted to tell you. I just didn’t know how.’

  ‘Straight up usually works fine.’

  ‘Not when your family no longer wants to know you. When you’ve lost all the friends you’ve ever known. When you couldn’t bear to lose another.’

  It was like watching a fresh green leaf waste away under the harsh rays of a desert sun. The confident man she knew seemed to shrink and wither before her very eyes.

  This time her hand reached across for his. ‘Tell me now.’

  His pain was a metal vice clutching her heart. Their hands remained linked, his tightly gripping hers as he revealed a past she’d never once envisaged.

  Confusion. Denial. Rejection. Banishment.

  A child wanting GI Joe when other girls wanted Barbie. Wanting to wear black pants to his sister’s communion and crying when his parents forced him to wear a dress. Hating the changes in his body that made him less like the person he saw himself to be.

  Wishing for deat
h rather than having to live a lie.

  ‘Self-acceptance has been a long road. Long and lonely.’ The hand in hers shook. She squeezed.

  His lips wobbled into the semblance of a smile. ‘I’ve gone through years of psychotherapy, hormone replacement therapy, building a life as the only true me I know. Now that I finally have a job I love, friends around me I care about, I wasn’t ready to jeopardise the first bout of happiness I’ve experienced in years.’

  It hurt that he hadn’t shared his secret with her. That he hadn’t believed their friendship was strong enough to withstand it. But as he spoke of watching people he loved turn their backs, she understood. ‘I just wish I could have been there for you.’

  ‘You are now.’ The wobble left his smile, his eyes filled with so much—pain, relief, love.

  He wasn’t the killer. She just knew.

  And if her gut wasn’t enough to rule him out, his alibi was. He’d been in surgery at the time of the last murder and nothing about the timing had been fudged or faked. He hadn’t ‘wangled’ it as Seth had surmised. They’d discovered as much this morning when she’d spoken to his physician. He’d revealed very little, under the constraints of doctor-patient confidentiality, but he’d said enough.

  ‘How did you find out?’ The dreaded question.

  Something of her feelings must have shown in her expression. Seth jumped up, spilling water from his glass in his rush to get to her. She shook her head, stalling him midstride so that he hesitated, reluctantly returning to his table. She could tell he wanted to ignore her signal to stay put, and loved him all the more for the fact that he didn’t.

  She loved him?

  She shook her head. But the thought wouldn’t budge. It fluttered slowly through her mind, followed only by a sense of rightness.

  I love Seth.

  The realisation came like the first sweet-smelling breath of spring. She wanted to go to him, tell him, throw every apple she had into that one, incredible basket and feast on it. Of all times to discover what deep down her subconscious must have known for an age . . .

  ‘Jayda?’ Darren’s hand waved across her vision, pulling her back. ‘How did you know?’