Devil's Lair

by Sarah Barrie

  Why hadn’t Tess told Connor who she was? It didn’t escape Callie’s attention that his eyes remained on hers the whole time Tess was talking. Maybe he did recognise her. Shit.

  ‘A landscaper?’ he repeated with interest. ‘Then I’m guessing you’ve roped her into helping with the garden.’

  ‘It’s not a garden, it’s a mass reforestation. And yes, Callie’s helping.’

  Amusement returned to Connor’s face. ‘Then the poor things have got a chance.’

  ‘Hey! You were the one who wanted me to do it.’

  ‘I didn’t realise Bob was going to dump you with the entire project. I thought there would be some degree of …’

  When he trailed off, Tess’s eyebrows lifted. ‘Supervision?’ she asked, her tone somehow innocent and dangerous at the same time.

  ‘Input,’ Connor replied with a lightning quick grin, lifting his hands in self-defence. ‘Just input. Which you yourself admitted would have been helpful.’

  Callie relaxed. They were obviously close and easy with each other.

  ‘And now I have it. We’ve laid out all the plants in the first garden bed, just need to put them in.’

  He looked surprised. ‘That’s some serious digging. Are you tackling that today?’

  When Tess sent her a questioning glance, Callie nodded and found her voice. ‘We won’t get them all done, but we’ll do as much as we can. We don’t want them all falling over and rolling out of place if you get some wind come up.’

  ‘What she said,’ Tess told Connor. ‘Come and take a look later, if you have time.’

  ‘I’d love to.’

  Callie wasn’t sure what was with the smile that spread thoughtfully across Tess’s face, so she dropped her eyes to her plate. ‘Are you eating?’ Tess asked Connor.

  ‘I came back to pick up lunches for everyone out fencing, so I’ll be eating in the south paddock. I’ll see you later.’ He stopped in the doorway. ‘Nice to meet you, Callie.’

  ‘You too.’ Callie’s breath rolled out long and slow as a coil released in her stomach. ‘You didn’t tell him who I was,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll get around to it,’ Tess said casually. ‘And once he sees what you’ve done with the first garden bed, I’ll get around to telling him we’re hiring you to do the rest. Have you worked out your fees yet?’

  Still feeling a little out of sorts, Callie was fast reconsidering agreeing to help. Maybe she was rushing into things. She’d been stupidly nervous during Connor’s simple questioning and she’d give herself away if she couldn’t get it together.

  ‘Tess, I’m not sure this was really such a great idea.’

  Tess swallowed a mouthful of pasta and smiled. ‘Don’t worry about Connor; he has that effect. It makes him good at business. People tend to fall in line.’

  ‘Oh—no, he seems very nice. I’m just edgy about being recognised and having the whole media thing erupt down here, and I’m not technically ready to start. I haven’t had a chance to register a business yet. I’m waiting on my name change to come through … I’ve only been down here a week.’

  ‘We can work around that.’ Tess picked up her lemonade. ‘New business, new name. Here’s to starting over.’

  Still not completely convinced, Callie tapped can against can. ‘Cheers to that.’

  * * *

  Connor returned with the lunches and watched the food vaporise from the containers. Hard work equalled hungry men, but there was plenty, and Logan’s dogs, currently sitting on the ute salivating, would get a slice of meat or two before the remains were packed up.

  As he sat eating with the men, Connor spent a bit of time wondering how it was possible that Tess had attempted to set him up with almost everyone in the phone book and hadn’t introduced him to Callie. Had she finally given up assuming it was her mission in life to see him with someone? Was Callie already taken? Not that it made any difference. He wasn’t sure why it was even crossing his mind. Sure, she had a snug little body and a lovely face and her eyes were an unusual dark green … he decided it was probably more the attitude that had sucked him in. He’d only spoken to the woman for all of five minutes, but he’d enjoyed their exchange, would have liked to spend more time talking to her.

  And for the briefest moment there’d been a quick flash of what might have been recognition, but he couldn’t place her. Perhaps she reminded him of someone. It’d no doubt come to him.

  As the men finally ate their fill and lay back as though dreaming of afternoon naps, Logan stood and got them on their feet and on the fence while Connor packed up. As he put lids on containers and rubbish in bags, he heard a whimper behind him, turning to see three dogs in a line straighter than the men could have made with bums on the ground and tails wagging, identically pathetic pleading expressions on their faces.

  ‘Yeah, you poor things,’ he said. ‘You must be starving to have gotten off the lounge this morning and given up the fireplace.’ Never in his life had he come across three more spoiled dogs. One, he supposed, deserved the lifestyle—Logan had rescued her from the bush—but her pups had been young, and they just didn’t know any different. ‘If I die, I’m coming back as one of you.’ He tossed them each a generous helping of scraps before finishing up to continue on the fence.

  They worked until late in the afternoon, and Connor had to call Cole to let him know they were running behind. It didn’t take long to catch the horses and saddle up. He was about to lead them down on the ute when he noticed Orson heading off in the wrong direction. Had he missed something?

  ‘Logan!’ he called. ‘Why’s Orson heading over there?’

  ‘No idea. Looks like he’s spotted something.’

  ‘I’ll go round him up.’

  Connor drove the ute along the new fence line. He stopped and got out when he noticed Orson looking into the scrub.

  ‘Hey, Orson, what’s up?’

  ‘Nothing. Thought I saw one of the guys still out here, wanted to tell them we were leaving.’

  Connor scanned the edge of the scrub, but couldn’t see or hear anything. ‘Must have been hikers or your imagination. We’re all over there.’

  ‘Hikers then,’ Orson muttered and turned Bailey around. The horse suddenly stumbled, kicking out, and spun a half circle. Then it stopped, rigid.

  ‘Don’t move him,’ Connor warned. ‘He’s caught his leg in the wire lying on the ground here. Just slide off.’

  Connor held the horse while Orson dismounted, then carefully freed the horse’s leg.

  ‘Is he all right?’

  ‘Yeah, no damage as far as I can see. It gave him a fright.’ Connor stroked the horse’s neck and walked him around to make sure he wasn’t sore. ‘A lot of horses would have panicked, run off and dragged the fence a long way before falling over it. Or got you off a lot of different ways. You’ve got to pay attention.’

  ‘Sorry, mate,’ Orson told the horse with genuine affection. ‘My fault.’ Then to Connor he said, ‘Bailey’s a good horse. A real good horse.’

  ‘One of the best,’ Connor agreed. ‘You were lucky to have him assigned to you. He’s good at looking after his riders. You’ll do well with him.’

  ‘Bailey the wonder horse!’ Orson announced to the world when they both caught sight of the rest of the group watching and waiting. ‘Is it okay to get back on?’

  ‘Yeah, ride him back. I’ll watch him move off, double check he isn’t lame.’

  Orson got back on and moved off, talking to the horse and shooting looks back into the scrub as he went.

  Connor waited until he had some space between them before starting the ute. It was hard not to like a guy who could take responsibility for his actions, show real concern and affection for his mount. Perhaps Orson wouldn’t turn out to be a mistake after all.

  CHAPTER

  12

  Callie was pleasantly tired when she pulled up at the cottage, and could easily have sat down on the patio and relaxed with a warm drink, maybe read for a while. But because she�
�d spent so long out at Calico Mountain, she was going to be late getting Cliff some dinner. Somewhere between planting the last of the groundcovers and heading home this afternoon, she’d decided to continue to feed him each evening. It made her feel better about being here, and perhaps might ease some of the awkwardness.

  She unlocked the cottage door and went in, going straight to the fireplace to get some warmth underway before continuing to the kitchen and digging through the freezer, finding the spaghetti bolognese Paisley had frozen the night Callie had slept through dinner.

  She pulled it out and heated some up then, leaving hers in the oven to stay warm, she headed over to Cliff’s. She cast an unhappy gaze over the state of the buxus hedge that lined the driveway. Perhaps she could barter a meal for a chance to tidy it up.

  She reached the door and knocked, but he didn’t answer. She knocked again, waited, tried again. ‘Cliff?’ she called. She knew he was home because he never went anywhere. And she’d seen him walk back from the river as she’d driven in. She cupped her hands around her eyes and tried to see through a clear segment of the door’s stained-glass panel. The lounge and hallway were skewed from the shape of the glass. The only light inside glowed from the top of the stairs.

  Perhaps he was taking a nap. Should she check? But he was going to be livid if she interrupted his shower or something. She tried the door and when it opened she ignored the instant creepy sensation that washed over her and went into the kitchen to put down the bowl.

  ‘Mr Waldron? Cliff?’ Her voice echoed through the silent house. She moved to the staircase, tried again. As she stood at the bottom of the stairs she turned her head slowly towards the open door to the cellar. The darkness from within seemed to reach out and wrap around her. The feeling was so strong she stepped back.

  ‘Callie?’

  It was faint, but the call had her bounding up the stairs.

  ‘Mr Waldron?’ At the top she found herself in another lobby. The place was enormous, she thought as she looked at the hallway running left and right. She chose left, because it was the direction she thought the light she could see from the cottage came from. She passed two doors, kept going. Then she saw the light under the last door. ‘Mr Waldron?’

  ‘In here.’

  She opened the door, peeked around it. He was on the floor, sitting up against the side of his bed. Blood was trickling from his temple. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Tripped over. Bumped my head.’

  She crouched down beside him and examined the wound. It didn’t look like much more than a shallow tear of frail skin, but she couldn’t be sure. ‘I think I’d better call for someone to take a look. Do you have a first-aid kit?’

  She stayed with Cliff until the paramedics arrived. Two men, one young, one middle-aged, both friendly and reassuringly competent. They’d cleaned and dressed the small cut, checked his vitals, got him up and moving around.

  ‘As far as the cut goes, he’s fine,’ the older one—Nathan—reassured her. ‘Is he prone to dizziness?’

  ‘I don’t think so. But he seems a bit groggy to me. He’s not, usually.’

  ‘He has a tablet he needs to take now. Do you know where they are?’

  ‘Bathroom,’ Cliff said from the bed. ‘And I’m not groggy,’ he snapped, shooting Callie a glare. ‘Mind’s clear as a bell.’

  She exchanged disbelieving glances with Nathan. ‘I’ll take a look.’ She went to the cupboard, found a small pharmacy. ‘There’s … Risperdal, Abilify, Seroquel—’

  ‘That’s the one,’ Cliff called in a raspy voice. ‘Need the Seroquel.’

  She brought the packet out with a glass of water and handed it to the other paramedic, Chris, who read the label before handing Cliff one. ‘This is all you need?’

  ‘Taken the other stuff I have to take. Thanks.’

  ‘Hold up.’ Chris took another, closer look. ‘These are Risperdal.’ He got up and went back to the bathroom. ‘Here’s the Seroquel,’ he called. ‘Looks like your pills are in the wrong bottles.’

  ‘Darn chemist must have mixed them up,’ Cliff complained. ‘Adelaide only just got the prescriptions filled the other day. Said there was some new hotshot chemist in town.’

  ‘This is quite the collection,’ Chris said. ‘You’re not taking all of these?’

  ‘Doctor had me experimenting with different drugs at one point or other to see what worked best, that’s all.’

  Both paramedics checked the other containers. Nathan shook his head. ‘I’ve put these in the right bottles. How about we throw away the ones you don’t need, in case you get confused again? Then we’d be more than happy to take you to the hospital for the night, just to make sure you’re feeling better.’

  ‘Been taking my own meds most of my life, thanks very much! And I’m already feeling better. Lotta fuss over a bit of a trip.’

  Nathan gestured for Callie to follow him out into the hall while Chris packed up. ‘Under the circumstances I can’t force him to come to hospital, and I’m pretty sure he’s fine. Being a head wound though, if you’re worried at all, you call us right back.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, and when Chris had come out, she led them to the door.

  ‘Is that your father?’ Nathan continued.

  ‘No. Just an acquaintance really. I’m staying in the cottage you passed on your way in.’

  ‘He’s on some serious drugs. All those antipsychotics, mood stabilisers, antidepressants and tranquillisers have to be carefully dosed out and taken at the right intervals. If there’s any chance he’s not able to self-medicate correctly anymore, he’s going to need ongoing assistance.’

  ‘I’ll talk to his daughter. Thanks for coming.’ She showed them out, heated up Cliff’s dinner and, finding a tray, took it up to him in bed.

  His eyes were closed but he opened them when he heard her. ‘Dinner. Thanks for this. And that.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ she replied, slightly surprised by his mild tone. ‘I’ll wait while you eat, take the tray for you. Would you like a fresh ice pack for your head?’

  ‘No, it’s good. Don’t need it.’

  She looked around the large room and, ignoring the mess, admired the high ceilings and decorative cornice. The old glass lightshade that hung from it was beautiful. ‘Your house is lovely.’

  ‘Got a history about it. All up in the tower if you’re interested.’

  ‘I’d love to see it sometime.’

  ‘Would you mind locking the house up for me? Haven’t had a chance tonight.’

  She really didn’t want to stay in the house any longer than necessary, but—‘Sure.’

  ‘In the drawer here … next to me.’

  She opened it, saw a large padlock with a key inserted.

  ‘That’s for the cellar. The door that goes under the stairs. Haven’t been careful enough. Not for a long time. With you here, better it’s locked tight.’

  As if the house didn’t freak her out enough. Callie considered the comment as she took out the large padlock, and questioned how much more her nerves could take. ‘No problem.’

  She went into the hallway and peeked inside the two doors she’d passed on her way to finding him. Bedrooms, large and furnished in the nineteenth-century style of the house. She enjoyed the elegance of the old furniture, the layout of the rooms. Despite the creepy feeling the house exuded, she could see why Paisley had dreamt of turning the place into a bed and breakfast.

  She reached the staircase, looked along the hall beyond. From what she could see, that end of the house would likely be a mirror image of this side. She took a step down, then looked up the staircase to her right and hesitated. Cliff had said she was welcome to check out the tower. Perhaps another time.

  She went downstairs and at the back of the house past the dining room and kitchen she found two more large, unused rooms plus a laundry and downstairs bathroom. She quickly checked the windows and two back doors were locked and kept moving. Coming in from the other end of the lounge room, she s
witched on the light. The furnishings were as lovely as she remembered from her quick glance in when she’d been here with Paisley. Antique, and in remarkably good condition. Dusty, but nothing a polish wouldn’t fix. She kept going, coming to the front entrance.

  Telling herself it was silly to be scared of an empty room, Callie walked over to the cellar door. What was so dangerous about the cellar that it needed a padlock? She wondered why the original lock was arranged so it could be secured from inside, rather than the other way around, and reached out.

  Bang!

  Callie leapt backwards as the handle ripped from her light touch and slammed closed. She waited, heart thundering, ready for anything, but the silence had taken over again.

  What the hell was that? Just what the hell? Unnerved, she turned and took the stairs two at a time to the first floor.

  Cliff had finished his meal and again had his eyes closed. ‘Was that you banging?’

  ‘The cellar door just slammed shut in my hand!’ she said in an almost accusatory tone.

  His eyes opened. ‘Draughts under the house. Damn door doesn’t shut properly, then slams at the first whiff of wind.’

  ‘Right,’ she said, her whole body sagging at the perfectly reasonable explanation. ‘Can I take that for you?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Thanks,’ he said sleepily. ‘You know how to cook a lovely meal. Appreciate it.’

  ‘That was Paisley’s cooking, but it was a pleasure to bring it over.’ Noticing he’d finished his water, she went into the bathroom and filled his. In order to ensure there was space for the glass on the bedside table, she picked up a chunk of what looked like charcoal but was surprised at its weight. It felt like stone.

  ‘Don’t move that!’

  She almost dropped it as she jumped, then resettled it in its place. ‘Sorry. What is it?’

  ‘You don’t know a piece of black tourmaline when you see it?’

  ‘Ah … it’s not something I’ve ever encountered.’

  He sent her a long look and shook his head. ‘Just has to stay where it is, that’s all. They all do.’

  All? She took another look around the room, noticed more rocks on each end of the window ledge, a small one above the doorframe. As she looked closely, she saw a strange circle drawn on the frame below the stone. Uneasy again, Callie put on the best smile she could manage.