SHELTER

by Boston, Claire

“Where’d you come from?”

  “Perth.”

  His eyebrows raised. “This morning?”

  She shrugged. “No point in paying for a night in the city when my plane arrived.”

  He shook his head. “You’re lucky you didn’t have an accident. Why don’t I drive you over? I can walk home.”

  Huh? That was overly friendly even for a country town. “You don’t know me.”

  “But I recognise your fatigue. I’ve seen it too many times in crash victims.”

  He had to be the fireman Mai had mentioned. The one who’d rescued Annisa. “Are you a paramedic?”

  “Fire-fighter. Look, at least let me get you a cup of coffee.” The crinkle of his forehead showed his genuine concern.

  He could give her more information about Annisa. “That would be great. Thank you.” She’d be sloshing coffee, but it was for a good cause.

  “This way.” He walked towards his house, his jeans stretching nicely over his butt. She’d never been into the scruffy, bad boy look, and her parents would never approve, but he was attractive. Or maybe her judgement was off because of her lack of sleep.

  A bulldog trotted down the back steps towards them, its white face contrasting against its brown body, a huge sloppy grin on its face. Zamira slowed. Her mother’s voice in her head told her dogs were dirty, don’t touch them. She wrapped her hands around her waist as the dog passed the man and pranced around her. “Ah…”

  The man turned. “Fetch, come here!” He took a couple of steps towards her and pulled on his dog’s collar. “He won’t hurt you, he just doesn’t understand personal boundaries.” With a groan, Fetch followed him back onto the verandah. The man took off his boots and opened the door. “Come in.”

  Zamira hesitated. She shouldn’t go into a strange man’s house by herself. She was thousands of kilometres from home and too far away from any neighbour who could hear her scream. No one knew she was here.

  Understanding dawned in his eyes. “Why don’t you sit outside and I’ll bring it out?”

  Relief filled her. “Thank you.” A small round table sat on the verandah with two chairs next to it. She sat on the one facing the door and let out a deep breath. It was peaceful here. Quiet. No traffic noise, no people yelling or machinery at work. Just the occasional drip of water from the earlier rain. She inhaled. Damp soil and eucalyptus.

  The verandah faced the back of the property. A couple of vegetable patches were close to the house and then nothing but low-cut grass for a good fifty metres before some shrubs and the bush proper — no yard or fencing. No big trees around the house and it must get hot in summer, but right now it was lovely.

  “Do you have milk or sugar?” The man kicked the back door open and carried a steaming mug in one hand and his fingers looped through the handles of a bottle of milk and jar of sugar in the other. He placed the mug in front of her but knocked the sugar jar as he put it down, spilling sugar all over the table. “Shit, sorry.” He bumped the milk bottle and managed to catch it before it fell. His face red, he stared at the table for a second. “Spoons. I’ll be right back.” His triumphant smile made her heart give another rapid beat in response.

  It had to be the fatigue causing her to revert to her baser instincts. Men didn’t usually affect her like this. Though social interactions with the opposite sex had been few and far between since she’d left university.

  She added milk to the instant coffee, and he returned, handing her a spoon and then wiping up the sugar, throwing the granules into the garden. “I’m Jeremy by the way.” He sat in the other seat, his own coffee in hand, and Fetch settled next to him.

  She smiled. “Zamira.”

  “That’s pretty. Where’s it from?”

  “It’s Malay.” She put two spoons of sugar in her cup to disguise the horrid instant coffee taste. As she lifted the cup to her lips she hesitated. Could he have slipped something into it? She rolled her eyes at the mental caution from her mother. Normal people didn’t have access to that kind of drug. She took a sip. Get the conversation back to Annisa. “So, do you get many fires out here?”

  He leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs at the ankles. “Not usually at this time of year, but my neighbour had a fire a couple of nights ago.” He gestured towards the side of the house in the direction of the metal letterbox place, but the trees blocked the view.

  Her pulse raced. “Was anyone hurt?”

  He flexed his hand which had a waterproof dressing on it. “Not really. The woman I dragged out had a bit of smoke inhalation.”

  Zamira’s eyes widened. “You had to go into a burning building and rescue someone?”

  Jeremy shrugged. “All part of the job.”

  “Was she stuck?”

  “I think she got disoriented and by the time she found the stairs, the ground floor was alight. She didn’t speak a lot of English and my Indonesian’s dodgy at best.”

  “Your neighbours are Indonesian?” Malay and Indonesian were similar languages, so maybe Jeremy was wrong.

  “No, Henk’s from South Africa. He supports migrant workers, finding them work and providing accommodation on his property. Annisa was one of them.”

  She bit down on her smile. She had found her. It was Annisa.

  But if Jeremy knew Annisa was a migrant, did he also know about Henk’s treatment of her? Best she not mention her connection to Annisa until she found out more.

  Next stop, Henk’s place.

  Chapter 2

  The beautiful Malaysian woman sitting across from Jeremy placed her mug on the table and pushed back her chair. “I should go. Thank you for the coffee.”

  Disappointment washed through him. It wasn’t a hardship to sit in front of such a beauty and chat on a Saturday morning, even if she looked completely out of place in her black pants and matching blazer jacket. She probably couldn’t wait to get away from the klutz in front of her. In his defence, he didn’t have guests regularly. He stood up. “Are you staying in Blackbridge for long?”

  “About a week.”

  Perfect. “If you need any recommendations, call me.” He took a slightly bent and grubby business card out of his jeans pocket and handed it to her. “And if you want some dinner company, I scrub up OK.” He winked.

  Her nose screwed up and she took the card between two fingers. “Thank you.”

  Right. She was one of those women. Probably high society and didn’t like to mess with plebs like him. Shame. Her cute pixie cut, deep brown eyes and flawless skin gave her a model quality. His mates would have been jealous and the limited time she was here suited him just fine. No possibility of getting too attached.

  As she got into her car, he repeated the directions to the retreat and then watched her drive away. She’d interrupted him while he’d been working on his desk, but that held no interest for him. Her questions about the fire reminded him he’d been meaning to check on Annisa. After he’d been x-rayed, he’d been taken to a different hospital room and she’d been discharged before he’d had a chance to speak with her.

  Wandering back into the house, he found his phone and the keys for his ute. Might as well go now. It wasn’t like the desk was a priority.

  As he drove up his neighbour’s drive, the burnt remains of the worker accommodation drew his eye. In front of it, a dozen two-man tents had been set up. Not a great solution at this time of year with it being so wet and cold. If most of the migrants were from Indonesia, they must be freezing. He pulled up at the main house next to a little white hire car like the one Zamira had been driving. He frowned. There she was at the front door talking to Henk.

  What was she doing here?

  Henk moved closer to her, leering over her with a big grin on his face. Jeremy increased his pace as Zamira stepped back and glanced around. Spotting Jeremy, her hand flew to her chest and her tanned skin flushed darker.

  Henk scowled briefly before stepping forward to shake his hand. “Jeremy, I never got the chance to thank you for responding so quickly the oth
er night.”

  “No problem. I don’t want to interrupt, I just dropped around to check how Annisa is.”

  “You’re not interrupting. This lady was asking for directions to the Hideaway Retreat.” He laughed and placed a hand on Zamira’s shoulder. “She can’t follow her sat nav.”

  Zamira cringed away from Henk and played with the silver pendant hanging around her neck, not looking at Jeremy. She couldn’t possibly have forgotten the directions he’d given five minutes before. Betrayal stung him. She’d lied to him, but for what end?

  “Annisa’s resting. She’s still feeling a little sick from the smoke.”

  Jeremy focused on Henk. “I hope it’s nothing serious.”

  “Nah, it’s not.”

  Zamira stood between the two of them, her lips pressed together, arms wrapped protectively around her waist.

  “I see you’ve got some tents set up for your workers.”

  “Yeah, best I could do for now.”

  “Want me to go through the building? I can give you an idea if it’s repairable or needs to be knocked down.”

  Henk hesitated. “That’d be great, but I’m on my way out. Could you come around tomorrow about ten?”

  “Sure.” He paused. “Look why don’t some of your workers bunk at my place until the building’s fixed?” He was surprised Henk didn’t have them sleeping in his house.

  Henk frowned. “Thanks for the offer. They’re more comfortable staying together and it won’t be long.”

  “Offer’s open if you change your mind.” Jeremy shook Henk’s hand and then glanced at Zamira. Whatever she was up to, she looked nervous of Henk. He couldn’t leave her alone with him. “Want me to show you the way to the retreat?”

  Her smile was pained. “No, it’s fine. I’ve got it now.” She slipped past him and hurried down the path.

  Yeah, she was definitely hiding something. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said to Henk and returned to his ute. They’d had some weird drug-ring related stuff happening in town a couple of months ago and he couldn’t ignore his gut. He followed her down the drive and paused outside his own driveway to see which way she turned at the end of the street. Left.

  Either she was really shit at remembering directions, or she had no intention of going to the retreat. And if that was the case, what was she doing here?

  On a whim he followed, staying out of sight, following the light dust trail left by her car. At the main highway he lost her, but he took a gamble and headed towards Blackbridge. She’d visited him and Henk which meant it probably had something to do with the fire the other night. But an arson investigator would have been upfront and so would an insurance assessor. He’d dealt with both a number of times.

  So what then?

  He accelerated, creeping over the speed limit and was soon rewarded by the little white car on the road ahead. He slowed again and followed her through town to the tourist centre where she parked and went inside.

  He found a parking spot and got out, rubbing his arms against the cold. He hadn’t grabbed a jumper before he’d left. Inside the centre, the heating was on and he sighed as he scanned the room. He waved to Barbara behind the desk and then spotted Zamira over by the accommodation pamphlets.

  She’d definitely lied about the retreat. He hated dishonest people.

  He walked over. “Got lost again?”

  She shrieked and whirled around, her hand on her chest. “Jeremy.”

  “Either you’ve got a shit sense of direction or you lied to me.” Why was he so mad? Pretty women rejected him all the time.

  She drew herself tall, all a hundred and seventy centimetres of her and glared at him. “If you don’t stop following me, I’m going to call the police.”

  His mouth dropped open. He couldn’t deny it.

  “Leave me alone.” She stalked out of the tourist bureau with her head high, looking every bit a wronged woman.

  She suddenly reminded him of his mother. Pain compressed his chest. Definitely best he stayed clear of her. He didn’t need that kind of grief.

  But he’d mention her to Adam at football tomorrow.

  That way at least the cops could keep an eye on her.

  ***

  Zamira hadn’t packed expecting to do something illegal, so the dark blue pants and her deep red rain jacket would have to do for camouflage at night. After Jeremy had confronted her at the tourist centre she’d driven around town until she’d found a little bed and breakfast with a vacancy and then she’d slept for most of the afternoon. When she awoke, she was far more refreshed and able to plan.

  She needed to get onto Henk’s property and talk to Annisa without Jeremy or Henk seeing her. Jeremy was definitely suspicious and if he called the police, she’d be in so much trouble.

  She should have returned to town after speaking with Jeremy and planned her next step instead of heading straight to Henk’s. Then she would have come up with a better idea like reviewing Google maps and seeing that a fire access road ran right behind his property. She could have wandered through the bush with her camera and pretended she was looking for the perfect shot.

  Too late.

  Now her best option was sneaking onto the property at night. She’d bought a decent torch and some night vision binoculars that afternoon, but hadn’t considered appropriate clothing.

  She hoped her little car could handle the fire access track without getting bogged. She couldn’t easily explain that. Knowing her luck, Jeremy would be part of the local mechanic call-out crew as well. She shivered. He’d seemed so trustworthy when she’d stopped at his place but then he’d followed her next door and into town.

  Super creepy.

  Maybe he was involved with Henk. He’d offered to help fix the building and had known about the migrant workers, and yet he’d done nothing to stop their exploitation.

  It didn’t matter. The Task Force would figure it out and if he was involved, then he deserved to be arrested.

  She checked her handbag — torch, night vision binoculars, phone.

  She headed out to her car, nerves brushing her skin. Her mother’s voice again – this was not the way a woman behaved. It was far too dangerous, it should be left to the men.

  Zamira was tired of letting men rule her life. Though she loved her father, he had certain beliefs – which were half a century out of date – on a woman’s proper role, and then she’d had to deal with Vince treating her like she was nothing more than a glorified typist.

  No more.

  Night had settled over the small town, the street lights were on and warm light spilled out of house windows and puffs of smoke escaped from pot belly fires.

  Her headlights barely made a dent in the darkness even on high beam as she drove out of town, and other cars were few and far between. She hadn’t spent a lot of time in the country before. It was disconcerting to have no street lights, no headlights behind her or coming up ahead, no neon lights from shops and service stations. She slowed when her navigation told her, even though she couldn’t see a road. Suddenly the turn appeared out of the dark and she braked sharply to make it. Why wasn’t there decent lighting at the intersection?

  More cautious now, she crawled along at half the speed limit and as her phone told her to turn right in a hundred metres, a kangaroo bounded out in front of her. Heart in her throat she jammed on the brakes and her car slid, fishtailing as the ’roo bounded into the bush. She got control of the car and stopped, her heart thumping hard. Was that an omen she should turn back?

  Her grandmother would tell her yes. Her mother would be appalled she’d even considered coming out here.

  She couldn’t desert Annisa. Still she rubbed her silver pendant for luck.

  More cautious now, she drove to the fire break, her headlights illuminating the soft grey sand road that would bog her little car before she got ten metres.

  She checked her map. A couple of kilometres to Henk’s place. Her Doc Martens were sturdy enough, she could walk. She pulled onto the road sho
ulder and switched off her lights.

  Darkness plunged around her and she gasped. It was like all the light and sound had been sucked out of the world. Melbourne was never this dark, or silent. What the hell was she thinking? She had no idea about the bush. There’d be snakes, spiders and wild foxes out there. She’d probably twist her ankle and be stranded.

  No. Annisa needed her. She’d identify Annisa’s tent and then sneak in to talk to her when everyone was asleep.

  Zamira opened her door and the automatic light was a comforting beacon. Sound returned as insects chirped around her. She retrieved her torch from her bag, switched it on and then locked the car.

  She took a deep breath in and walked forward.

  The cold settled around her, so Zamira zipped up her rain jacket to keep some of the warmth in. Above her clouds blocked out the moon and the stars, and the large gum trees added shadows. Before long she was puffing, the soft sand pulling at each footstep. Her breath clouded in hot gasps. She should have spent more time at the gym.

  A loud rustle in the bushes to her right. She swung her torch around and peered into the darkness, her muscles tight, hand shaking.

  Nothing.

  Her skin crawled and she breathed slowly to calm herself. Probably a wallaby or a smaller marsupial. She walked faster, glancing behind regularly.

  She really should have told someone where she was, but she hadn’t wanted to hear she was foolish. She knew she was.

  But there had been few other choices.

  She reviewed her map again. Not far from Henk’s property. She retrieved her night vision binoculars from her bag and then hesitated. Switching off the torch would plunge her into darkness. Gritting her teeth, she pressed the button and dropped the torch into her bag. She quickly lifted the binoculars to her eyes, scanning the area.

  A large man-sized shape appeared in the bushes not five metres away from her.

  She shrieked, leaping backwards.

  Chapter 3

  Zamira’s heart raced faster than a racehorse as she stared, frozen in place. Her skin pimpled and she clenched the binoculars. They could do as a weapon. Which way — back to her car, or into the bush?