Evidence of Love

by Elisabeth Rose

  ‘Maja is helping the police.’ Nick’s voice gave nothing away. He’d retreated into cop mode.

  She squashed the jolt of surprise. He’d covered for her, not given away her alias. Not given away anything. Why?

  Branko laughed. ‘Everyone knows what that means.’

  ‘In this case it means exactly as it sounds,’ Nick replied smoothly. ‘Maja found and reported a young girl who’d been viciously attacked.’

  Branko raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. The suspicion had left his voice when he said, ‘Maja and I have some catching up to do. She will finish talking to you later.’ He made to take her arm again but she stepped back out of reach of those clawing fingers.

  ‘No, we don’t have anything to discuss.’

  ‘I think we do.’

  ‘I think she is telling you she doesn’t want to,’ said Nick.

  ‘I think you should mind your own business.’

  ‘You’re making it my business by threatening her.’

  Branko raised his hands palms out, smiling. ‘I’m not threatening her, I’m an old friend wishing to chat.’

  ‘If I do, will you leave me alone?’ Lara’s voice came tight and strained. She had to stop this escalating into a brawl. They were attracting enough attention as it was, with people giving them strange looks as they passed by and moving clear as though expecting a fight to erupt at any moment.

  ‘If that is what you decide after our chat.’ Branko nodded but his dark eyes told a different story. He wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

  He’d leverage his knowledge of her whereabouts anyway he could. She had no idea how, and he probably didn’t either yet, but it was as certain as the sea was deep that he’d try to manipulate some benefit for himself out of this chance meeting.

  She nodded once, glanced at her watch. ‘I don’t have much time, I have an appointment in forty minutes.’

  ‘Where?’ said Branko. Suspicious as ever. ‘I will take you there.’

  ‘It’s none of your business but it’s at the hairdresser’s. I can go by myself, thank you.’ It was the first thing that popped into her head, born of habit. Tony expected his wife to titivate and shop and they were virtually the only reasons she’d been allowed out of the house. If Branko insisted on accompanying her she had no intention of going to her regular salon. She’d take a taxi into the city and choose one at random. Branko could watch her walk in.

  Nick said, ‘You don’t have to go with him, Maja.’

  ‘It’s fine. I’ve known Branko for years.’ She held Nick’s gaze briefly hoping her silent thanks was understood then turned to Branko. ‘You can buy me a cup of coffee.’

  ‘Could you come in to the station later?’ said Nick. ‘There are one or two details I’d like to clear up and you’ll need to sign a statement.’ He was an exceptionally good liar. Very impressive, and he’d neatly given her a reason not to go straight home if Branko offered to pick her up. He’d draw the line at taking her to a police station.

  She sent Nick a cool look. ‘I’ll come after the hairdresser. In about two hours.’

  ‘See you later.’ Nick nodded to Branko and walked away.

  Lara headed for the hospital coffee shop, leaving Branko to follow. Her stomach churned but he had no claim on her, none at all. Neither did her father or her brothers. She owed them nothing. Plus, strangely and unexpectedly, she had an ally; a policeman, of all people.

  Branko bought coffee and sat facing her across the white Formica table. He wouldn’t be able to play rough in here, too many people around.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ No more Miss Weak As Water. She had a son and a life to protect and this miserable worm would have a nasty surprise if he tried to threaten her.

  ‘I’m visiting…a friend. He had his appendix removed.’

  ‘Why are you in Sydney?’ She wasn’t the slightest bit interested in anything personal to do with Branko.

  ‘I live here.

  She kept her voice steady with all her strength and willpower despite wanting to scream at the top of her lungs. ‘Since when?’ And where? Which suburb?

  ‘A year.’

  ‘Why did you leave Melbourne?’

  ‘Things were not so good there after Tony died. Here it’s better for me.’

  She permitted herself a sour little smile. ‘Me too.’

  She knew what happened after her husband was murdered: all the wolves came out snapping and fighting for top spot. Branko wasn’t so stupid as to stick around for his own unexpected heart attack.

  He studied her, those close-set blue eyes narrowing. ‘You look good, Maja.’

  ‘I am good, Branko.’ She stared at him unblinking. ‘I don’t want my family to know where I am.’

  He took a sip of his short black. ‘How is your baby?’

  ‘Fine.’

  She picked up her own cup but put it down without drinking. Her throat had closed too tight to swallow anything.

  He looked at her ringless left hand. She’d sold the diamonds Tony had given her without a pang of regret. In fact she’d bought herself a bottle of champagne with some of the proceeds and toasted herself that night. ‘Maybe we can come to an arrangement.’

  She shook her head.

  He leaned forward and said softly, ‘You’re a beautiful woman, Maja. You know I always liked you. Don’t you remember?’

  Bile rose in her throat. She clenched her teeth against the wave of sickness, breath coming hard and fast. ‘Leave me alone,’ she muttered. ‘Please.’

  ‘I don’t think you mean that.’

  She glared at him then, gave him the full force of her hatred and disgust as she hissed, ‘I do mean that, Branko. I was married to a disgusting animal of a man who bashed me and treated me like a slave, a whore. You must have known, all of you, and you did nothing. Do you think I want to put myself in that situation again? Never! Not in a million years.’

  He blanched as the wave of invective flowed over him but recovered enough to say, ‘I’m not Tony Petrovic.’

  ‘I know who you are.’ She stood up and slung her backpack over her shoulder. ‘Goodbye, Branko.’

  ‘Ivan lives here now too, Maja.’ He looked up at her with an insolent half-smile as he dropped that bombshell. ‘He’ll be very pleased to hear I’ve seen you. And how well you are.’

  Her brother? Here in Sydney? She steadied herself with a hand on the chair back. ‘Don’t tell him. Please, Branko.’

  ‘He’s the person I’m visiting. Why don’t you come with me?’

  He was lying. Wasn’t he? Why hadn’t he said so straight away? But this was typical. Manipulative. Threatening. Lara left the coffee shop, heart pounding like a marathon runner’s as she marched across the chrome and glass foyer. Would he chase after her? Would he follow her? Probably. Her mind scrabbled for a solution. Her bike was too slow, he could almost keep up with her on foot, plus he’d know she lived close enough to ride here. Did he have a car? Probably, he always drove upmarket flashy macho machines but it would be parked some distance away. She’d have time to evade him while he collected it. Unless he really was going up to the ward to see her brother.

  Her brain slowed as she formulated a plan. It might be excessive but she wasn’t taking any chances, not with Branko, not with her future. She’d take a cab to the city and then catch a train from Town Hall station for a few stops then another cab home. He’d have trouble following her at Town Hall if he got that far. It was a massive sprawl of underground passageways. She could easily lose him there. Her bike would have to stay chained to the racks here. Even if she lost it, a bike was a small price to pay for keeping her home secret.

  Why did Branko have to be here at just the wrong moment? What ill-fated cosmic alignment caused that? He wasn’t a friend, she detested him as much as the rest of her family. He’d tried to woo her when she was sixteen but her father put a stop to that. He had bigger plans for her than a newly arrived migrant boy. For once she’d been pleased with h
er father’s strictures.

  And what was he doing in Sydney with Ivan? Starting up their own crime network? If it was true her brother was here. Would Ivan leave Melbourne?

  She glanced over her shoulder as she went through the main doors. Her heart nearly leapt from her chest. He’d been held up by something but now Branko was crossing the foyer towards the exit. That thin-lipped mouth sat in a tight line, the eyes firmly fixed on her, a tiger stalking its prey. In black. He always wore black, even in the oppressive heat of summer. Doom-laden.

  The flimsy control she’d mustered deciding how to lose him, shattered. Her legs propelled her forward in a stumbling, breath-tearing run and she pushed past some slow-moving people out onto the footpath and hurried panting towards the road. Please let there be a taxi or even a bus. Please, please, please.

  Cars, vans, no taxis, no busses. Couldn’t stand still. Had to move. Run. No, walk. Running was too obvious. Take a side street. Out of sight. She turned right at the main entrance, crossed the road the better to catch a cab going that way and headed towards Parramatta Road. Such a beautiful morning, crisp air clearing her head, steadying her nerves. The side street corner was metres away. A quick look over her shoulder. No sign of Branko but he couldn’t be far behind her. He wouldn’t know she didn’t have a car so he may not try to follow. Was she panicking unnecessarily? But she couldn’t let him know where she lived. If he discovered that she’d have to sell up and move. Go to another city. Start again. If she had to, she would.

  A white car slowed beside her and a voice called through the open passenger window, ‘Get in.’

  Lara paused for a split second then flung the door open and collapsed into the front seat.

  Nick accelerated. Lara turned for a quick look back and saw Branko, hands on hips, staring at the traffic. Had he seen her?

  ‘Care to tell me what that was about?’ Nick didn’t sound angry, more curious.

  ‘No.’ She closed her eyes, head back. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Seatbelt,’ he said.

  She clipped it obediently. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘No worries.’

  ‘Where are we going? Hairdresser?’

  ‘No. Home. I…fibbed.’ She bit her lip, hesitated. ‘I don’t want him to know where I live.’

  ‘He doesn’t know?’

  ‘No. No-one does. From before.’

  ‘Your family?’

  She nodded. ‘I had to get away.’ She owed him at least that much information but he’d have to be satisfied with a crumb.

  ‘Okay. What about your bike?’

  ‘I’ll bus over tomorrow and get it.’

  He didn’t ask any more questions. The lights were red at Parramatta Road.

  ‘Are you taking me to the police station?’ Lara asked. ‘Do I really need to make another statement?’

  ‘No. I fibbed,’ he said.

  Chapter 6

  Nick took a circuitous route to Lara’s house, checking the rear-view mirror constantly to see if they were followed. He pulled up in the driveway, positive no-one had been on their tail. Lara sat in silence beside him. The incident had obviously shaken her, frightened her more than she cared to admit to him, but from that first moment he knew she was in trouble. No way was he walking away and leaving her at the mercy of that scumbag, old friend or not.

  ‘All clear,’ he said.

  Lara exhaled heavily. She unclipped her seatbelt then suddenly leaned across and pressed soft lips against his cheek for the briefest of moments. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured.

  Before he could react or recover the door closed and she was gone, leaving a waft of perfume and the memory of her lips to tease him.

  Nick returned to the station deep in thought. Maja Djokovic. Who was she that she had to cut loose from her family? Djokovic. The name was familiar. Why? Not from one of his cases but it was something...

  ‘Name Djokovic mean anything?’ he asked as he slung his jacket over the back of his chair.

  Marie barely looked up from her computer. ‘Tennis player. Novak. World champion.’

  ‘Oh. Right.’ Novak Djokovic. Even he knew that name now that it was explained. Maja wouldn’t be related to him or if she was it was a dim and distant connection.

  ‘Why?’ She straightened and gave him her full attention.

  ‘Nothing. Name came up and I thought it was familiar.’

  ‘Didn’t know you followed the tennis.’ A sly smile slid across her face. ‘Didn’t know you were interested in anything sporty.’

  ‘I’m not.’ He sat down and stared at his computer. Maja Djokovic. It would take minutes to do a search. He wouldn’t. It was illegal to use police databases for private purposes. She wasn’t under investigation and wasn’t involved in a crime. As far as he knew. Same with her unsavoury mate Branko. Branko what?

  ‘We got a hit. A barman recognised Brooke’s photo.’

  He jerked back to the present. ‘Good. Did he say anything useful?’

  ‘She was in early — before eight — but he wasn’t positive which night. Hadn’t seen her before and he remembered her because she looked too young and he asked for ID. She was waiting for someone.’

  ‘Aaah. Did the someone turn up?’ At last something concrete.

  ‘He doesn’t know. They do a drinks special on Thursdays and he was busy. She was sitting at the bar but moved away after about twenty minutes. Didn’t drink much.’

  ‘Internet dating?’

  ‘Possibly.’

  ‘Okay, we’ll follow that up.’

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘Bruising is fading. No memory of the night yet but her memory’s coming back in bits and pieces apparently.’ He pursed his lips. Decided. ‘She wants to stay with Lara Moore while she recovers.’

  Marie’s eyes widened. ‘Is that a good idea? What does Lara Moore think?’

  ‘She’s not sure what to think. Asked my advice.’

  ‘I hope you said no.’

  He shrugged. ‘They get on well. It’s not our decision, is it?’ And they had more in common than evident at first glance. Both had escaped bad family situations.

  ‘And what if the guy’s a nutter? Lara and her kid might be at risk.’

  ‘A stalker, you think?’

  ‘We don’t know.’

  ‘I doubt it. There’s no evidence of anyone at the coffee shop harassing her or doing anything odd. No evidence of that at all from anywhere.’ Nick rubbed his chin. It could turn out to be the other way around given today’s events. If Branko found out where Lara lived both women could be in trouble. ‘Might be worth checking that angle again though.’

  ‘A customer?’ Marie straightened, reaching for her bag and jacket. ‘Stalkers can be very normal and innocent on the surface. I’ll talk to the coffee shop staff.’

  ‘Find out if that waitress friend knows anything about internet dating.’

  He heaved himself out of his chair. Better fill the chief in before he wandered in and bothered them with questions.

  ***

  The moment Ellie opened the door she took one shrewd look at Lara and started fussing.

  ‘What’s happened?’ She grabbed an arm and pulled her inside. ‘Did you fall off that bike? Where is it? Are you hurt?’

  ‘Nothing happened. And no I didn’t fall off my bike. Why did you think that?’ Lara attempted a laughing denial but it fell flat.

  ‘Come and have a cup of tea and tell me. Petey and I made shortbread.’

  ‘Where is he?’ A sudden irrational surge of panic that Branko might have got here first and kidnapped him almost overwhelmed her.

  ‘He’s in the kitchen with his playdough.’ Ellie steered her firmly through to the sunny kitchen where her little darling sat at the table with lumps of pink dough. He grinned and held up a peculiar shaped object.

  ‘Paydough, Mummy. I made a horse.’

  ‘Hello, darling.’ Lara swooped and hugged him, planting kisses on his cheeks which he tried to avoid by wriggling.

  Ellie fro
wned, watching, hands on hips. Lara straightened and dumped her backpack in the corner.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  Lara slid onto the chair next to Petey. ‘Don’t you have an appointment?’

  ‘It’s only mah-jong. They can start without me.’ She didn’t budge and her expression remained that of an interrogator. ‘You can’t come in with a face like that and pretend nothing’s happened. Is it that girl?’

  Brooke. She’d forgotten about her. ‘She wants to come and stay with me until she’s well enough to go home on her own.’

  ‘That’s not going to happen.’ Deflected momentarily, Ellie turned and switched on the electric jug.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘You don’t know anything about her,’ she threw over her shoulder.

  ‘And vice versa,’ Lara murmured, then louder. ‘We have a… She needs someone to help her.’

  ‘You’ve done your bit already.’

  Lara picked up a piece of playdough and moulded it into a ball, rolling it between her palms as she thought. Would confiding in Ellie be a mistake? She was the closest thing to a friend she had.

  She stared at the floral-clad back while Ellie took mugs and plates from the cupboard. She could trust her. The concept burst in her head like a skyrocket. She trusted Ellie to care for the most precious thing in her life — Petey. She could trust her with things she’d never told anyone.

  ‘Ellie, Brooke was bashed. I know what that’s like. My husband…’

  ‘Bashed you?’ Ellie spun about, shock and sympathy warring on her kind face. ‘Oh my poor girl.’ She bustled around the table to enfold Lara in warm arms. Lara accepted the hug for a moment then eased herself away.

  ‘It’s okay. He’s dead and I’m over it. I don’t think about it or him anymore.’ Her mouth twisted despite trying to keep her tone light. Branko in black sprang into her mind, his cruel, taunting smile sending a chill through her body. He’d forced her to think about it. And Ivan? She’d ring the hospital and ask if he was a patient.

  Ellie continued making the tea. ‘That was divine justice in action,’ she said. ‘Giving the man a dodgy ticker. Served him right.’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘I understand why you feel you should help this girl but you have to consider all the angles. What do the police think?’