Evidence of Love

by Elisabeth Rose

  ‘We’ll miss the rest of our lives if you drive like that.’

  ‘I’m a very safe driver. I’ve never had a ticket.’

  ‘That’s probably because they can’t catch you.’

  Despite her protestations Ellie did lift her foot off the accelerator a bit.

  ‘I’m starting my art classes on Thursday night,’ Lara said. ‘Brooke’s coming over to mind Petey.’

  She’d thought long and hard about the wisdom of leaving Brooke and Petey alone in the house but Lucas hadn’t made any specific threats or demands. She’d make sure the doors and windows were locked and tell Brooke not to let anyone in except Nick. Maybe she could ask him to come as well. If she did she’d have to tell him why…

  ‘I’m glad she’s managing on her own again,’ said Ellie.

  ‘Yes, she seems fine.’

  ‘You know, now that you’re getting out of the house yourself you should sign Petey up for a playgroup. There’s one at the community centre where I play mah-jong.’

  ‘But he’s happy at home with me.’ Why did that suggestion shock her?

  ‘I know he is but he needs to socialise. Does he have any little friends to play with?’

  Ellie had her no-nonsense ‘I know best’ tone on. She knew perfectly well Petey spent his days with his mother, Ellie, or now occasionally Brooke, and this was her way of announcing her disapproval. Blunt and to the point.

  Lara shook her head. He had none but Petey did need friends, everyone did. It wasn’t fair to keep him closeted away with his mother. And now that Ivan had surfaced there wasn’t any need to stay hidden — except for that unknown quantity, Lucas. But he knew her phone number and if that prowler was connected to him, knew her address. At the moment he was an uneasy black cloud hovering in her peripheral vision.

  Ellie went on, ‘He’ll enjoy it and you’ll meet some other local mums.’

  Lara pulled her attention back to the conversation. Playgroup. No reason why she shouldn’t start making friends with other mothers in the area. A support group would be a novel experience. ‘When is it?’

  ‘Wednesday mornings from nine till eleven, I think. Ring the community centre and ask.’

  ‘Okay. I will. Thanks. When are you going on your holiday?’

  ‘In ten days. Would you like to use the car while I’m away?’

  ‘Oh! Yes, that would be great. If you trust me.’

  ‘Darling, I’d trust you with my life — as long as you have a driver’s licence.’ Ellie sent her a sideways look with raised eyebrows and a little smile on the hot pink lips.

  ‘Yes, I do.’ Not that she’d driven much but she had kept it up to date and transferred it to NSW when she moved. No telling when she might need to make a rapid escape. Buy a car. Hire a car. Run. It was still a possibility.

  ‘Done. I’d be much happier with the car being used rather than sitting there for months.’

  ‘I’ll take good care of it.’

  ‘You make sure you take good care of yourself and our little man back there. I’m glad you’ve found yourself some friends at last.’ She slowed for the turn into the mall parking station. Lara twisted round and smiled at Petey.

  ‘We’re at the shops,’ he said. ‘Lots of cars.’ He pointed with both hands indicating different directions. ‘Lots and lots of cars.’

  ‘And I’m especially pleased you’ve landed yourself that nice policeman.’

  ‘What?’ Lara’s head whipped round.

  Ellie grinned. ‘Keep your eyes open for a spot. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean. He’s a good catch and he’s all gooey-eyed round you.’ She cackled like a demon.

  ‘How do you know?’ How often had Ellie met Nick? Twice tops, the most recent being the day of the Manly excursion and the prowler scare. She and Brooke must have been nattering.

  ‘I’ve got eyes in my head and years of experience. Don’t let him get away.’

  ‘Has it escaped your notice that I’m not in the market for a man?’

  ‘Tell Cupid. Tell that nice policeman.’

  Lara gave up.

  Chapter 18

  Nick arrived at seven the following evening, holding a bottle of wine. Lara opened the door with Petey peeping around her legs. He was ready for bed but she couldn’t get him into it. Since daylight saving had started bedtime was becoming a battle.

  ‘Hello. Come in.’ She leaned forward wanting to touch him, feel his kiss, feel his fingers on her skin.

  ‘Hello.’ He smiled and his lips brushed her cheek but there was a wariness, a holding back she hadn’t expected. Pale skin under his eyes indicated the bone-weariness that seemed an occupational hazard, the eyes themselves held a shadow she hadn’t seen for weeks. He handed her the bottle and looked down. ‘Hello, Petey. How are you?’

  Petey tightened his grip on her legs. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Petey should be in bed.’ Lara closed the door, hobbled by the limpet clinging to her. She mustn’t assume the subtle change in Nick’s manner had anything to do with her. She was oversensitive. The effects of his job must be hard to switch off and he’d come direct from his shift. He just needed to relax. Tony barely spoke to her when he’d been involved in something big and when he did it was a terse demand for a drink or food. On those occasions she knew to keep her mouth shut and act quickly and silently.

  ‘I’m not sleepy.’ Petey let go and scuttled down the hallway to the kitchen.

  ‘Daylight saving has stuffed us up completely.’ She groaned. ‘I can’t get him to bed with the sun still so high.’

  ‘Does he have to go to bed at a certain time?’ Nick hadn’t moved, neither had Lara, jammed together in the hallway by the door, inches from each other. He didn’t raise his hand to touch her, didn’t pull her into his arms the way she expected, the way she wanted.

  ‘Seven is his usual bedtime. He’s usually ready.’ Her focus shifted to his mouth. Why didn’t he kiss her? She could make the first move but something prevented her closing that small gap between them. Something she sensed, something that settled in her stomach like a lump of raw dough.

  ‘Will it matter if he stays up a bit later?’ Nick stepped away. The moment dissolved into disappointment.

  Lara headed for the kitchen, clutching the bottle of wine in tense fingers. ‘No I suppose not. I was hoping we could have dinner in peace, though.’

  ‘Doesn’t worry me if he’s up.’

  ‘I suppose I’m looking forward to some adult company.’ She flicked a smile over her shoulder. ‘Your company.’

  He didn’t return her attempt at lightness. ‘Maybe he needs some playmates. Don’t you know any other mothers in the area?’ The tone wasn’t harsh or critical, it was worse than that, it was polite disinterest.

  This was crazy. Yesterday he could barely wait to see her, now he wasn’t taking any of her hints or any of the opportunities on offer for smooching. One measly peck on the cheek at the door and a cool greeting followed by mundane chitchat. She stood the bottle of wine on the bench and turned. ‘Not yet. I’m taking Petey to a playgroup tomorrow so I’ll probably make some friends there, too. What’s the problem, Nick?’

  ‘Is there a problem?’ He regarded her with that assessing, impersonal policeman’s face he wore without even realising.

  ‘I don’t know. Not from my side there isn’t. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you, now I get the feeling you’re not all that pleased to see me.’ She waited, furious that a tremor had crept into her voice on the last words but holding his eyes firmly with hers, willing him to engage, not letting him do his blank faced interrogator’s thing. He suddenly relented and stepped forward to scoop her into an embrace so tight she could barely breathe.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Of course, I’m pleased to see you.’ But he didn’t kiss her properly even then. ‘It’s been a hell of a day.’ He released her abruptly and picked up the bottle of wine. ‘Care for a glass?’

  ‘I have some white in the fridge. We’re having stir-fry.’ Better,
but there was still something bothering him. Did cops like to talk about work or not? Not, she suspected. Same as Tony and Ivan never confided in her, although that had a lot to do with their attitude toward women and their belief she didn’t have a brain.

  ‘Fine.’

  Lara grabbed the bottle she’d had chilling specially and poured two glasses. ‘I’d better put Petey to bed first.’ She looked across to where her son was playing with his toy cars.

  ‘Like me to try?’

  ‘If you want. Sure. It might involve a story or two.’

  ‘Fine.’

  She raised her voice slightly. ‘Bedtime, Petey.’

  ‘No.’

  Nick walked across and squatted beside him. ‘Come on, matey. I’ll tuck you in tonight.’

  The little face brightened. ‘Can I have a tory?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Can I have lots of tories?’

  ‘You can have three.’ Nick straightened. ‘Come on.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll choose the best ones.’ He was already running for his room.

  ‘Righto.’

  Lara followed them to Petey’s bedroom. He pulled three books from his bookcase, dumped them on the bed and scrambled in to lie grinning up at Nick. Lara leaned over for the ritual kiss and cuddle goodnight.

  ‘Sleep tight, sweetheart.’ Small arms wrapped around her neck and squeezed tight.

  ‘Goodnight, Mummy. Nick, read my tory. Thomas Tank Engine first.’

  ‘Okay.’ Nick smiled at Lara and sat on the edge of the bed with the book in his hands.

  Lara went back to the kitchen with a warm glow in her belly where the uncooked lump of dough had resided for a brief period of time. She took out the wok and the saucepan for rice and filled it with water. The vegetables and chicken were already prepared and waiting in the fridge. She set the heat under the saucepan and measured rice into a cup. Nick could be in there for some time. Petey loved the attention from a new person. He liked Nick and he missed Brooke who had been a champion story reader. They both missed her.

  Nick’s low-pitched voice rumbled down the hallway as she worked. The water boiled, in went the rice. Timing was critical with stir-fry. She’d have to wait for story time to finish. Set the table, start some music, sip some of the wine growing warm on the bench. She put Nick’s glass in the fridge.

  Three stories would take about fifteen minutes, should be nearly finished. She doubted Nick would be conned into reading more. Petey was fascinated and at the same time in awe of him, wanting to impress, on best behaviour. Was she the same?

  She wanted his good opinion, was so finely tuned to him any small change in his manner set off alarm bells. Nick’s footsteps sounded in the hallway. Lara put the wok on the heat and added a dash of oil.

  ‘He’s asleep,’ said Nick.

  ‘Good work! Your wine’s in the fridge staying cool,’ she added.

  ‘Thanks.’ He retrieved the glass and raised it to her. ‘Cheers.’

  Lara lifted hers and met his eye. ‘Cheers.’ She turned back to her cooking. ‘Sit down and relax, this won’t take long.’

  ‘Can I help?’

  ‘No, thanks. Sit down.’

  He didn’t sit down. He went to the window to stare out into the darkness. A few moments later he moved to the CD player and looked at the open cover on the shelf, then put it down and wandered across to the bookcase and studied the spines.

  Lara concentrated on stirring the chicken and vegetables sizzling in the wok.

  ‘Can you use chopsticks?’ she called.

  ‘No.’

  She tossed a handful of cashews into the wok. ‘This is ready.’

  She quickly rinsed the rice and served two portions into bowls, topping it with generous spoonfuls of chicken and vegetables.

  Nick sat waiting at the table. Lara set the bowl before him and took her place opposite.

  ‘I used hoisin sauce, not hot or too spicy, I hope.’ Her breath almost stopped as he forked up the first mouthful.

  ‘Delicious,’ he said.

  ‘Thank goodness. After what I did to you last time I was worried.’

  ‘Not that I’d be angry, I hope.’ He flicked her a frowning glance.

  ‘No, that you wouldn’t like Chinese style. I should have asked.’

  ‘I do and it’s perfect for a warm night. Not too heavy.’

  ‘I’d like to go to China.’

  He looked up in surprise.

  ‘Would you? Why?’

  ‘I love the art. It’s so delicate. I love those paintings of mountains all shrouded in cloud or mist with really high peaks sticking up. I’d like to go there and see them.’

  ‘Nothing stopping you.’

  ‘Except Petey’s a bit small to travel.’

  ‘True. Have to wait a while. China will still be there.’

  The conversation meandered on aimlessly. The tension left Nick’s body as they chatted and ate. She’d grown quite adept at the art of bland but mildly interesting talk during her marriage. With Tony she knew exactly which subjects to avoid and when to back off and stop talking. With Nick it wasn’t exactly the same because she knew he wasn’t going to suddenly lash out with a fist or throw something at her but he wittingly or unwittingly used a different weapon. He shut down, shut her out and retreated into policeman mode, which was almost as hurtful.

  She served fresh fruit salad for dessert. Nick refused coffee or tea so she cleared the dirty dishes and brought the wine bottle to the table. He poured another glass each.

  Lara waited, watching him turn the stem of the glass between his fingers. He looked up suddenly, catching her. She smiled but he didn’t smile back. Instead he said, ‘The guy that attacked Brooke was badly bashed. Keith Garrett.’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘Hard to feel sorry for him.’

  ‘He’s in hospital with three broken ribs, a broken jaw and severe concussion. He may have brain damage but they’re not sure.’

  Lara sipped her wine. He deserved everything he got. If Nick expected sympathy from her he’d be very disappointed.

  ‘You don’t seem surprised.’

  She shrugged. ‘Sounds like justice to me. He deserved it.’

  ‘It’s not justice, Lara, it’s vigilante-style thuggery.’ His eyes pierced her casual disdain but she wasn’t admitting it. Wasn’t about to allow him to make her feel guilty for being glad Garret got what he deserved.

  ‘And what he did to Brooke and those other girls, doesn’t that count?’

  ‘Of course it does and you know perfectly well we worked hard to find him. And we succeeded!’

  She nodded. Not convincingly enough because he went on in a tight voice, ‘This just makes our job harder because now we have to find who did this to him. Now he’s the victim.’

  ‘He’s no victim!’

  ‘He is now. Someone attacked him. More than one person. Three.’

  ‘Does Brooke know?’ Three against one was rough but still...

  ‘Yes. We have to ask everyone involved in this if they know anything about it.’

  ‘Including me?’

  He nodded.

  ‘You can’t think Brooke and I beat the guy up!’ It was such a ridiculous idea she laughed. Nick didn’t. ‘With Ellie — you said three people,’ she added. Still no answering smile.

  ‘Of course not but…’

  ‘But what?’ The laughter died in her throat.

  ‘You know people who might do it for you.’

  ‘You mean my brother?’ Her words fell into the space between tracks on the CD.

  The silence virtually twanged until the next tune began.

  Nick swallowed. He knew she’d be furious and he couldn’t blame her but he had to ask, had to see her reaction, judge as well as he could if she was lying. ‘He knows Brooke, and you said yourself he liked her and was interested in her well-being.’

  ‘Do you really think I would ask Ivan to beat up this lowlife?’ Her turn to stare him down.

  ‘No, I don’t thin
k you asked him to but he may have organised it himself.’

  Lara leaned forward and hissed, ‘I also told you that Ivan doesn’t do stuff like that anymore.’

  ‘Maybe he feels he owes you one. He didn’t protect you before so he’ll help your friend out instead.’ That registered, he saw it in her expression. Doubt. Would she admit it? ‘How much have you told him about Garrett?’

  ‘I don’t know anything about Garrett.’

  ‘But Ivan knows he’s out on bail?’

  She nodded, grudgingly.

  ‘And he felt the same way you did about that?’

  Another nod.

  ‘I have to talk to him, Lara.’

  Her mouth tightened to a thin white line. ‘How do you know this bashing wasn’t just a random attack? It happens all the time.’

  ‘That’s true, but in this case the attackers made sure he knew why he was being beaten up. They told him.’

  ‘Did they say specifically which girl they were avenging?’

  ‘No. Just that he “deserved it” and “how did he like it?” Stuff like that.’

  ‘It could have been any self-styled avengers. Nobody likes guys who do what he did.’ A harsh little laugh escaped. ‘I don’t think Ivan would bother talking to him.’

  He pounced. ‘So you think it’s possible he was involved?’

  ‘No. I don’t.’ It was stated flatly and with conviction. No doubt he’d get the same reaction when he questioned Ivan, as expert at police techniques as he himself was, but if he had nothing to hide they could have a friendly chat. He had to admit to a measure of curiosity in Lara’s brother on a purely personal level.

  ‘I still need to talk to him. I’d prefer to do it the way I’ve spoken to you. Casually and low key.’

  ‘Are you going to see him at work? That won’t help him, having the cops walk in and start questioning him.’

  Nick exhaled his exasperation in a long slow breath. ‘I’ll be discreet. I talk to lots of people without interrogating them. Just because the police ask questions doesn’t mean the person is automatically a suspect. I could be asking him about anything — about someone else entirely, an employee’s whereabouts. We gather information and we eliminate possibilities. That’s what I’ll be doing.’