by Piper Stone
“It’s possible Weaver stole them.”
The significance of the year 2010 dawned. “Because of the drought, a way of making money?”
“It’s possible. Is Weaver around?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Nick’s already on his way. He set off when you called Gerry about the dog, so he shouldn’t be far away now. I’ll call him, let him know about the cars, then I’ll head over there myself. If you can leave the property without being spotted, do that. Otherwise, sit tight and Nick’ll be there soon as. Okay?”
“I’ll head back now,” she told him. “There’s no one around.”
Kane gave her his and Nick’s mobile numbers in case she needed them. Fel ended the call and slid the phone back in her pocket. Again, she checked that there was no one outside before leaving the shed to walk back to the park. In her shock at discovering the cars she’d forgotten about the dog, but it came bounding up to her. She bent to caress its warm fur. “Where’s your dad, boy?” she murmured. “We need to let him know where you got out, don’t we?”
As if understanding what she’d said, the dog sprinted towards one of the outbuildings. Fel followed him. If Weaver was working in there, he wouldn’t know she’d seen the cars. She’d tell him about the fence, wish him a happy Christmas, then leave.
She pushed open the slightly ajar door.
And saw more stripped down cars. Only five this time, but larger than the ones in the shed and more luxurious. A couple of BMWs, a Lexus, a luxury Land Rover…
She snapped more photos. She was about to send them to Nick, and tell him he’d better check all the outbuildings, when the sound of heavy footsteps and laboured breathing made her jump.
Fel spun round.
Doug Weaver stood in the doorway. His face was pale beneath his hat and his eyes seemed to bulge out of his head.
He was carrying a shotgun.
He pointed it right at her. “What do you think you’re doing prowling around here?” he demanded.
Nick parked the police car outside Weaver’s farm and vaulted over the padlocked gate. The farmhouse door was shut and none of the windows were open – but that didn’t mean no one was home. Nobody kept their windows open in the heat of the day, and Weaver could be anywhere on the farm, milking the cows, planting seeds, fixing something in one of the outbuildings. Fel had told Kane she didn’t think Weaver was home, but Nick couldn’t shake off his conviction that the farmer had been lying about going away for Christmas.
Nick rang the bell a couple of times but no one answered the door. He decided to check out the outbuildings, see if he could find Weaver. He walked around the farmhouse and into a massive tin shed. It was oppressively hot in the heat of the day, but it was also – his hand moved instantly towards his pistol – full of cars. He counted twenty-four stripped down cars. Many of them still bore their number plates, but there wasn’t much else of them left other than basic body. Kane had said Fel’s old car was among them. He was glad Fel was safe back at the park – Kane had called ten minutes ago to report she was leaving the farm. If Weaver was here alone, Nick could handle the situation himself till Kane arrived. But if the old farmer had people working for him, like those teenagers Fel had seen yesterday, things could get pretty bloody hairy.
Nick slid his pistol from its holster and poked his head around the shed door. There was no one in sight and the only sound was of a flock of sulphur-crested cockatoos screeching as they flew overhead.
He exited the shed and walked across to the next building – a barn that housed a tractor and three shelves full of tools. He ignored that and headed for the largest outbuilding. If Weaver had any more stripped-down cars stored on his property, they were likely to be in there.
He had just reached the slightly open door when he a voice inside – high-pitched, afraid.
“It’s okay, Mr Weaver, honestly. I just dropped by because I found your dog in the national park. Your fence has been cut – you really need to get onto it or your cows are going to get out.”
Fel, his childhood playmate, the beautiful woman he wanted to date, was in danger. Next he heard Weaver’s voice.
Chapter 7
“You know about the cars.”
A vein pulsed in Weaver’s temple. The dog paced between Weaver and Fel until called to heel. It sank at Weaver’s feet, looking up at him.
Fel’s heart pounded so hard she was sure Weaver could hear it. Her legs felt so weak she thought she might collapse. She reminded herself that Nick wasn’t far away. She needed to keep Weaver talking, convince him that she didn’t suspect anything.
“I saw a car that looked like one I used to drive.” Her voice came out squeaky with fear. She willed herself to calm down, try to talk naturally. “That’s the only reason I looked. Anyway, I don’t care about the cars. I just care about the hole in the fence. Your dog was in the park, next it could be your cows.”
Behind Weaver, the barn door inched open and Fel’s stomach roiled. Who was this now? The youths from yesterday?
She breathed a sigh of relief when Nick crept into the barn. He put his finger to his lips, a silent instruction: Don’t let Weaver know I’m here.
But the dog growled, alerting its owner.
“Easy, boy, I’m not going to hurt anybody,” Nick said. He pointed his pistol at Weaver. “Come on, Doug, let’s not do anything silly. Put the gun down.”
Weaver’s mouth started working in agitation but he kept his shotgun trained on Fel.
“I understand what’s gone on, mate,” Nick said and Fel couldn’t believe how calm and matter-of-fact he sounded. “I grew up in the country. I knew farmers who went to the wall during the drought. That’s why you were stripping down the cars, right? Selling them for parts because you were losing money during the drought? And since the drought ended and you’ve been able to get on your feet again a bit, well you’ve stopped stealing cars, haven’t you? All the cars here are old.”
Weaver’s body shook. Fel held her breath willing him to listen to Nick, to do what he asked.
“Come on, Doug, be sensible, put the gun down,” said Nick. “Anyone’ll be able to understand how a hard-up farmer might strip down stolen cars. We all know what you guys went through during the drought. But don’t make it worse for yourself by harming a national park ranger who’s done nothing more than tell you that there’s a hole in your fence that your dog got through. Nobody’s going to understand that – not me, not my colleagues, not the courts.”
Weaver made a strangled little noise and a tear slid down one weather-beaten cheek. “I didn’t know what to do with them when I’d sold the parts. That’s why they’re still here.”
“Put down the gun, Doug, and we’ll talk about it, right?”
Weaver bent down, placing the gun on the ground.
Fel’s legs wobbled and the world seemed to whirl around her. She clutched the car behind her so she wouldn’t collapse.
Nick stepped forward, picked up Weaver’s gun and checked it. “You did the right thing, Doug.” He turned his attention to Fel. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” Fel gasped. She straightened up and saw the concern in his eyes. “Yes, I am now.” Thank God he’d turned up. She mightn’t have seen Christmas otherwise.
Tears began flowing down Weaver’s face. The dog jumped up at him, concerned, paws scraping at his thighs. The old farmer fondled its ears.
“Where did you get the cars from, Doug?” Nick asked. “Was someone supplying you?”
“I stole them,” Weaver confessed. “I used to catch a bus into the city, find a car and drive it back here. I sold the parts in the Trading Post at first, and after that on the internet.”
Nick stepped forward. “Douglas Weaver, I am arresting you on suspicion of motor vehicle theft. You are not obliged to say or do anything unless you wish to do so, but whatever you say or do may be used in evidence. Do you understand?”
Weaver seemed to shrink before Fel’s eyes as he bent his head and allowed Nick to
guide him to the police car.
The nearest large police station was an hour’s drive away, and by the time Nick had finished up there, all the local shops were shut. On the way back, though, he passed a supermarket that sold plants. He bought a poinsettia, along with a bottle of wine, and got Fel’s address from Gerry. Gerry told him he’d sent her home early after she’d given her statement to Kane. “I thought it’d be better for her to rest after that ordeal,” he said.
Nick figured the wine would help Fel relax. He could certainly do with a glass after today’s events. Weaver had called his lawyer; so Nick had waited for her to turn up before taking the farmer to the interview room for questioning. But even though he’d demanded his lawyer, Weaver hadn’t listened to her advice. He just wanted to confess to everything. He’d carried the burden of guilt for a long time, and wanted to get it all off his chest.
Weaver had confessed something else too. Most of his shotguns had been stolen the previous night. Four youths had knocked on his door around midnight, threatened him with axes. The only gun they hadn’t taken was the one he’d pointed at Fel.
Before leaving the supermarket, Nick called Fel’s mobile. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay. Just wrapping presents and watching Love Actually for the twenty millionth time.”
“Okay if I drop round? Bring you up to date about what’s happened with Weaver?”
“Yes, all right.” She sounded surprised, uncertain.
Aware that she was still uncomfortable with their spanking history, he smiled to himself. She could forget all that tonight. Instead, if Nick had his way, her bottom would be uncomfortable with their spanking present.
And he hoped they’d both be looking forward to their spanking future.
“I’m bringing a bottle,” he told her. “I think we could use a drink.”
Fel lived in a one-storey weatherboard house just outside Darby Creek. The weatherboards were painted cream, the doors and windowsills a vivid blue. A festive wreath greeted him at the door. Nick pressed the doorbell, and Fel answered almost straightaway. She’d changed into a sundress and Nick briefly regretted still being in uniform before remembering that cop clothes were probably fine for a woman who liked spanking.
He held out the plant and wine.
Fel’s face lit up. “That’s lovely. I’ve been meaning to get one.”
“Jodi told me.”
“Ah, that’s why…” Fel’s voice trailed off and she changed the subject. “I’ll put the wine in the fridge. Come in.”
Nick stepped into a pretty room with polished floorboards, a large sofa, widescreen TV and a brightly coloured rug in front of a wood heater. A decorated Christmas tree stood in the corner, festive lights flickering through their cycle. A pile of wrapped gifts lay under the tree. Fel put the poinsettia on the windowsill, then took the wine through to the kitchen. She had air-con running at a comfortable temperature, rather than the icy blast of the national park office.
She returned with two glasses of wine. “I had some in the fridge. I’ll open yours when it’s had a chance to cool down.”
They clinked glasses. Fel indicated Nick should sit in the armchair. She settled down on the sofa.
“Thanks for coming to my rescue today,” Fel said. “I was glad to see you. I was terrified Weaver was going to kill me.”
“I don’t think he would have, to be honest. He was just scared.” Nick brought her up to date with what Weaver had told him about the youths stealing his guns.
“What’ll happen to him?” she asked. “I do feel a bit sorry for him even though he pointed a gun at me. Imagine carrying that secret all those years.”
“Probably a suspended sentence, given his age and circumstances. He’s in a cell till he comes up in court, though. A neighbour will look after his dog and cattle till his daughter can get a flight.”
“She’s coming to see him?”
Yes. He’s been putting off her visits for years, because of the cars.” Nick sipped his wine and Fel did the same.
“How come you were still at the farm?” Nick asked casually. “Kane said you were heading back.”
“I was until I saw the dog again. Then I thought I could take him back to Weaver, that Weaver wouldn’t know that I’d seen the cars.” Fel slugged her wine again. “I was stupid.”
“Yes, you were.” Nick spoke firmly and Fel looked across in surprise. “It wasn’t a great idea to take the dog back onto the property in the first place, given you’d seen youths hanging around and the fence had been cut. And you certainly should have left the place when you had the chance. And that leads me on to something else.” Nick placed his wine glass on the coffee table. “Doug Weaver’s not the only person around here keeping secrets for years, is he?”
Fel flushed, twirled her wine glass in her hand.
“We both remember those spanking games, Fel,” he said gently. “I’m sorry I was clumsy the way I mentioned them last night. But I know you’re still into it. I saw the books on your Kindle.”
Fel’s head jerked up. “You snooped?”
He held out his hands in a you-got-me gesture. “Well, I am a cop. It’s my job to snoop. But I wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t had to brake hard to avoid hitting a kangaroo. The Kindle got knocked to the ground and I wanted to check it wasn’t broken. And I saw your erotica folder and…”
“And learned I’m still kinky.” Fel’s voice was hard.
“Yes. And I’m glad I did,” he told her. “Because I’m still into spanking too.”
Chapter 8
Nick was into spanking!
Fel could barely believe it. All this time she’d been worried that he’d either despise or be amused by her spanking fetish, and he was a spanko as well. She didn’t know how to respond, and settled for, “Really?”
“Yeah, really.” Nick came over to the sofa, settled next to her. Fel’s stomach tightened. Was he going to spank her? She was half-afraid he would, half-afraid he wouldn’t.
“So have you spanked any other women then?” she asked him.
“Just the one. It did not go well. And now I’m a cop – well, it’s difficult to introduce spanking in a relationship. I could lose my job if the woman didn’t like it. What about you?” he asked her. “Have you been involved with other spankos?”
“Just the one as well.” Fel’s throat felt tight and she swallowed. “It didn’t go well either. I discovered I’m not submissive. Which is a bit of a problem, really.”
“A problem, how exactly?”
He sounded genuinely curious and Fel explained about her ex-boyfriend.
“You kicked him in the nuts?” Nick laughed. “Sounds like he deserved it. Fel, I’d never make you do anything you were uncomfortable with, and you don’t need to call me ‘Master’ or ‘sir’, and I’d certainly never call you ‘whore’ or ‘slut’. What I might call you when you misbehave is a naughty girl who needs to be punished.” He took Fel’s hand in his. She gazed down at his large hand, wondered what it would feel like on her bottom. She swallowed again. “So what sort of games do you think you’d like playing now?” he asked softly.
Feeling shy and self-conscious, Fel whispered, “I don’t know.”
“I can think of a good one. It’s a variation on a game we used to play – cops and robbers. Only this time it’s the cop and the ranger who ignored a police officer’s advice and put her life in danger. Do you think you’d like to play that game?”
Blood pounded in Fel’s head as she met his eyes. Her breath hitched. “Perhaps,” she blurted out.
“I need you to be sure.”
Fel was scared, but didn’t want to hold back now. She’d wanted this forever. “I’m sure,” she said.
He pulled her across his lap. His body felt warm against hers and she shifted slightly to make herself more comfortable.
“Stay still,” he said, slapping her lightly on her right leg.
Fel obeyed and held her breath as Nick tossed up her sundress. When he’d ca
lled to say he was dropping by, Fel had put on matching lacy bra and panties just in case she got lucky. Now he stroked circles over her panties and she wondered if he planned to pull them down.
She got her answer when he lifted his arm and brought his hand down hard on her right buttock. Fel jumped. He wasn’t going to give her a bare-bottomed spanking, but that didn’t matter. Her skimpy panties were no protection from his strong hand.
He smacked her right cheek several more times. The slaps were loud and as her cheek grew increasingly tender, she gasped, squirmed and willed him to switch buttocks. After a couple more spanks he manoeuvred her slightly so he could target her left cheek better. Fel yelped as the first scorching slap landed on previously unspanked flesh.
Soon her left buttock was as sore as her right. Nick started spanking her across the centre of her bottom then, occasionally giving her thighs a hard slap. Fel squeaked and bucked, wishing the spanking was over, but at the same time wanting it to last forever.
When he stopped smacking, he stroked her sore bottom gently. “Will you ignore a police officer’s advice again?”
Did she want him to continue spanking her or not? Fel’s bottom stung but she was reluctant to move from the position she’d yearned to be in for so long. “I’m not sure,” she admitted.
The smack that landed across the centre of her bottom was so much harder than the previous ones that she yelled out in protest and tried to clamber off his lap. Nick held her down firmly with his free hand. “This part isn’t a game. You put your life in danger today when you could have been safely back in the park. Will you ignore a police officer’s advice again?”
Her bottom throbbed from that last smack so much that Fel didn’t want him to deliver another. “No, I won’t,” she answered. “I won’t ever. I promise.”
“Good. Because if you do, that last smack I gave you will feel like a gentle tap compared to the spanking you’ll get.”
A shiver of dread and delight went through Fel. Nick gave her a final stinging slap on her right cheek and helped her up off his lap. She met his eyes shyly, and saw the desire in his.
