Amber Storm (Assassin In Paradise Book 1)

by Jack Stroke

  The idea of spending the night didn’t repulse her, which surprised Amber. Why should it? He was an attractive younger man. It wouldn’t matter that she was out of practice in the bedroom. Like riding a bike, wasn’t it?

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked.

  “Your forearms. They’re very handsome.”

  “Thanks.” He glanced down at them. “They are my best feature.”

  What would a normal person do? Sex or no sex? Guess it depended on the person.

  The evening passed pleasantly, not spectacularly. Nice company, nice food. In the end Amber settled for giving Vaughan a hug. She resisted the urge to give him a proper kiss and pecked him on the cheek instead. There was no hurry. She planned on being a regular person for a while to come.

  “Do you want to do this again sometime?”

  “What? As a date?” Vaughan asked. “Or just hang out?”

  “I don’t know,” Amber said.

  “You’re quite honest, aren’t you? You don’t sugarcoat things.”

  “I try to be.”

  “Sure. We can do this again sometime.”

  53

  Vaughan offered to walk Amber home. She appreciated the sentiment but told him it was fine. It wasn’t far. She would be good on her own. She repeated the process of removing her shoes and wading up to her ankles as she made her way back to Paradise by the Bay.

  The day had been an exciting kickstart into her new life as an ordinary person. Some success, some failure. Certain things would take a while. How long until she stopped assessing every situation as threats and figuring exit strategies without a second thought? How long until she stopped thinking every person she saw had designs on killing her?

  There was another change she had to make. A big one. In her cabin, that night. It may well be the hardest habit to break of all.

  Making it through the door, she felt lightheaded, aware of what she was about to do. This was major. Heart pounding, she slid into bed without setting up either of the tripwires. It felt wrong and yet right all at the same time.

  Two hours of staring at the walls later, still wide awake, Amber reconsidered and set the tripwires up after all. Baby steps. She had gone to bed without setting them up. That was the start. Hopefully she could progress to sleeping without them in time.

  With the alarms in place, Amber’s mind quickly blurred. Somewhere between thoughts and imagination and dreams. She pictured herself having children with Vaughan. Little smart-ass children in board shorts and ratty shirts. Kids with no ambition or drive who enjoyed being on a boat more than on land and only ate Hawaiian pizza. Could that be her life? Is that what she wanted?

  Lev’s phone beeped with a message, dragging Amber back to the land of the living. She recognised the number. Mother. Or Tony conveying a message from Mother. Nope, she thought, ignoring it. I’m done.

  She considered smashing Lev’s phone as she had with the burner phone, except that seemed unnecessary. Having a phone could prove useful, and why not this one until she got one of her own?

  Sleep eventually found Amber as she pondered forgetting about exercise and diet and putting on weight and never leaving Paradise Cove again. Was that really what her heart desired? Her sleep was deep and pleasant and not interrupted by ghosts, which made a nice change.

  In the morning, despite her best intentions, curiosity got the better of Amber. She checked Lev’s phone. The message was from Mother.

  “Picking up continued chatter. Drug deal still appears to be going ahead.”

  Drug deal? No, that couldn’t be right. She had destroyed the boat. Stopped it. Surely burning the boat down had been sufficient.

  What could they deal? She had destroyed the drugs…

  54

  The following day Amber returned to Hidden Beach to search for clues, even though it had been a few days since she saw what she thought was the family coming ashore in the dead of night.

  If the deal Mother was on about was still going ahead, the drugs must have been transported off the sailboat and onto land. For that to be the case, it was a fair bet they had moved them via the rowboat. Except where did they go from here? Hidden Beach had no road access, so any movement would have been on foot. Was there a chance the drugs were still here somewhere? On the beach or nearby?

  Moving methodically along the sand, Amber searched for some sort of tell-tale sign of disturbance or indicative marker of some kind. X marks the spot. Maybe she needed a treasure map. She found nothing.

  Pausing, Amber attempted to put herself in the minds of drug smugglers. They probably planned to keep the drugs on board the sailboat. Maybe do the deal out there. But Amber’s appearance on the boat scared them off. Safe to assume then the deal would likely still take place close by. They required a last-minute change of location. Somewhere to stow the drugs. Completely unplanned. Somewhere close by with easy access.

  Amber could only think of one place close enough to Hidden Beach.

  Heading back to Paradise by the Bay, Amber found Megan.

  “Hey. Quick question…”

  “Shoot.”

  “Has there been any strange people around lately? Looking at cabins or anything?”

  “Strange people?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re pretty strange these days.”

  “Thanks. Other than me. Over the last few days. ”

  “Mum said something about two men looking for you.”

  “Yeah, I know. Anyone else? Anybody ask to see the cabins or anything like that?”

  “No one has asked me.”

  Made sense. Amber would probably have noticed any strangers as well. Still, she wasn’t watching twenty-four seven.

  “No one you haven’t recognised around Paradise Cove?”

  “Why?” Megan tittered. “Is your secret family coming searching for you?”

  “Secret family?”

  “Mum thinks you’re on the run or something, and you’ve got two daughters you’re not telling us about.”

  “I know that too. She told me. I told her I didn’t. They are not my daughters in the photo.”

  “Oh, yeah? Who are they then?”

  “Just two girls. I don’t know them.”

  Megan laughed, returning to her magazine. “See? Everyone always thinks you’re this big mystery, far more interesting than you actually are. The mysterious Amber. When really, you’re just odd.”

  Amber nodded, walking out of the office. She would take odd.

  Security was hardly a priority at Paradise by the Bay, and Amber had little difficulty breaking into cabins one through five. Anybody could do the same. If they knew Joan and Megan’s routine, it would be relatively easy to hide something in there without their knowledge. It was risky, but a smart hiding spot. With no guests, there was no reason for anyone to go into the cabins.

  The layout of all the cabins was much the same, the only difference being cabins two and three catered for families and had an additional room with bunk beds.

  Amber completed a quick search. The drugs weren’t in the cabins. Oh well, it had been a long shot. They simply didn’t have that many hiding spots.

  She was just finishing in cabin five when a silhouette appeared in the doorway.

  “What are you doing?” Ben asked.

  “Oh, nothing. Just looking for something.”

  “I can get you soap or towels if you’ve run out.”

  “No, I’m good.”

  Amber strode out, shutting the door behind her.

  “Did Mum give you the key?”

  “I didn’t use the key. Listen, Ben… If you had something to hide around here, where would you hide it?”

  “Why? Hide what?”

  “I don’t know exactly. The size of a couple of boxes, at a guess.”

  He thoughts about it. “The scout hall?”

  It wasn’t a bad idea, except it was probably too far in town. Someone could see them. She imagined somewhere closer to Hidden Beach. Where else was clo
se enough other than Paradise by the Bay?

  “Who else owns property around here?” She pointed. “Out that way.”

  “Out behind Hidden Beach?”

  Amber smiled, pleased she wasn’t the only one who still used the old name.

  “A lot of it is National Park.”

  “Yeah, the beach land.”

  That was possible. Easy to hide stuff among the trees. Heck of a risk though, leaving it out in the open like that where anyone could stumble across it.

  “What about if you head inland?”

  “There are a few properties. A couple of farms.”

  Farms. Interesting.

  “Cool, thanks. Run later?”

  Ben pulled the face. “Maybe. I’m still sore from our last run. You said I’d feel good after. I didn’t. I felt like crap.”

  “That’s just because you’re starting out. It gets easier quickly. You get better and faster.”

  He didn’t believe her.

  “Maybe tomorrow then?”

  “Maybe.”

  As Ben slunk away, Amber returned to Hidden Beach. Farm properties behind

  Hidden Beach, hey?

  It seemed like as likely a spot as any if someone needed to hide some drugs.

  55

  Attacking the beach with fresh eyes, Amber made her way to the opposite end. Away from the water, where the beach met the foreshore. Her footprints from earlier remained undisturbed. Closely examining the sand right before the grass, she found the faint remnants of tyre tracks. Definitely a vehicle of some kind. Someone had made an effort to obscure the rest of the tracks, the sand swept then walked upon. So they weren’t on foot after all.

  Amber moved beyond the foreshore. The area was thick with trees, although not as thick as it appeared from a distance. Definitely room to negotiate a motorbike through. After a few minutes walk, the trees cleared, and Amber found herself at the edge of a paddock with a large shed a few yards in.

  The shed door had a clunky, new lock attached to it, contrasting with the rusty metal of the rest of the structure. The grass leading up to the door had been pressed down by a vehicle entering and exiting. Only pressed down in the direction of Hidden Beach. In the remainder of the paddock, the grass stood tall.

  Locks are relatively easy to pick if you have the right tools. Amber didn’t. With a bit of force, she was able to wedge the door partly open, although not nearly enough to get inside.

  How do I get in then?

  She stood examining the structure for a long time and when nothing came to mind, she slowly navigated the perimeter. The big sliding door was the only way in or out.

  She glanced up. The roof didn’t look like it was in the best condition. Maybe that was a possibility.

  A thick drainpipe ran down the north-facing wall. Amber shook it a few times to make sure it wouldn’t come away from the shed when she was halfway up.

  The climb was challenging, with limited arm and leg holes, requiring considerable upper body strength. Once on top, Amber dragged herself over the edge and onto the roof, scraping her belly against the rough edge of the corrugated iron. It was all for nothing. There were no loose panels or any way to force herself inside from up here either, the old shed deceptively well put together. Amber strode from end to end, her footsteps making loud clunking sounds as she examined every single panel.

  “Having fun?”

  The unexpected voice almost made Amber tumble off the roof. She had to navigate the edge to find its source.

  Leaning over, she saw an old man pointing a large shotgun straight at her.

  56

  “I said, are you having fun?”

  “Just looking for a way to break into the shed.”

  “Yep, I figured that.”

  “I’m not having much luck though. It’s too well-made.”

  “It should be. I built it myself.”

  The old man must’ve been eighty if he was a day. The type who showed no signs of age slowing him.

  “How about you come down, and you and me have a little chat?”

  “How do you propose I do that? Get down?”

  “Your problem, not mine. Same way you got up, I suppose.”

  “Right… you don’t have a ladder or anything?”

  “Not that you can use.”

  Amber hadn’t really planned to climb back down the pipe, confident the roof would have given her access.

  “And before you get the idea to try anything smart, know I’m happy to shoot you where you stand.”

  “Understood. How’s your eyesight?”

  “You think I’ll miss from this close, you’re welcome to test it.”

  The climb down was no easier than the way up. Amber jumped the last bit, her legs stinging as she hit the ground.

  She put her hands up, examining the man with the shotgun. He clearly knew his way around the weapon. Whether that meant he intended to use it or not was less clear. Despite his age, there was no way to get the gun from him without him getting a shot off first. At least, not right at this moment. His overalls and flannel shirt and knee-high gumboots certainly suggested he was a farmer, not some sort of drug kingpin. A large, jangling set of keys sat on his hip. Amber was willing to bet one of them would open the shed.

  “You’re a woman,” the farmer said.

  “I am.”

  “What is happening to the world? Why would a young lass like yourself want to steal farm equipment?”

  ‘Young lass’ wasn’t nearly as offensive out of the farmer’s mouth as ‘kid’ was out of Vaughan’s.

  “You probably won’t believe me, but I didn’t want to steal anything. I just wanted to have a look in your shed.”

  “I might drop dead tomorrow, young missy, but I wasn’t born yesterday. All right then, come on now.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “Back to my place. We can call the police from there. They can sort this out.”

  “Would you mind if I had a look in your shed first?”

  “Well, you’re persistent. I’ll give you that. Yes, I would mind. What do you want to do? Get an idea exactly what’s in there, so you know what to steal when you come back later? No chance.”

  They headed through the field towards the far end, the furthest point from where Amber had entered.

  “Your grass needs a mow,” Amber said as she moved through the waist-high growth.

  “It’s not grass. It’s barley.”

  The field was hemmed in on all sides by trees. Hidden behind the line of trees directly in front of them was a cute little farmhouse.

  As they walked, there could have been opportunities for Amber to escape. Except she was intrigued. Interested to see how this played out before taking any action.

  “Take your shoes off, if you don’t mind,” the farmer said as they reached the farmhouse front door.

  “What if I refuse?”

  “I’ve still got the gun, Missy.”

  “Yeah, but shooting me because I won’t take my shoes off seems a little extreme. Besides, if you shoot me here, I’ll make an awful mess that will have to be cleaned up. Out in the field it wouldn’t have mattered.”

  They stared at one another, at an apparent impasse. Amber wasn’t serious. She grinned at the farmer, taking off her shoes.

  The wire door resisted opening and snapped angrily back into position once they were through.

  “That you, Bert?” came a woman’s voice.

  “Who else would it be?”

  “You take your boots off?”

  “I did. We have company too.”

  The female equivalent of the farmer appeared. A skinny woman in her 80s, more wrinkles than face.

  “Hello, dearie. Who are you then?”

  “Don’t be friendly. I caught this one trying to break into the shed. Steal the farm equipment.”

  The farmer’s wife looked Amber over. “Are you sure, Bert?”

  “What you mean am I sure? I caught her red-handed, standing on the roof.”


  “Would that be red-handed?” Amber asked. “Or red-footed?”

  “Don’t be smart.”

  “She doesn’t look like much of a thief, Bert,” she said, smiling at Amber. “My name is Betty. Would you like a cup of tea?”

  “You can’t give her tea.”

  “Why not?”

  “She’s a prisoner.”

  “So? There’s no need to be rude. What are you going to do with her? Lock her in a room somewhere?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Exactly. You don’t know. So why don’t we all have a nice cup of tea and see if we can sort out this mess with a bit of common sense.”

  “Thank you,” Amber said. “A cup of tea sounds lovely.”

  57

  It turned out Betty had made some scones which were still warm and went perfectly with the tea. Amber felt as though she had been transported back in time, imagining Bert and Betty with this same routine for the last sixty years. He tended the farm, she the house. Echoes of a different era.

  As the tea flowed so did the conversation. They had been married for fifty-seven years and lived on the farm here all that time.

  “Why did you think I was attempting to steal your farming equipment, Bert?”

  “What else would you be doing on my shed roof?”

  “Good point.”

  “Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “Oh, Bert,” Betty said. “That was twenty years ago.”

  “It still happened.”

  “You guys still do all the farming yourselves? That’s pretty impressive after fifty-seven years.”

  “Mostly ourselves. There’s a young chap who comes and helps out sometimes,” Betty said.

  “He doesn’t help me much,” grumbled Bert. “I still do all the actual farming.”

  “Really? At your age?”

  He shot Amber a dirty look.

  “I’m not being rude about your age. I’m just impressed, that’s all.”