Stranded With Ella

by Shelley Munro

  Dillon had plenty to keep him busy, but Ella kept intruding. She tiptoed into his mind during his shower and never left, despite his efforts to shove her out. When that failed, he dragged thoughts of native birds, cameras, and helicopters to the forefront and pushed Ella back. That only worked for ten minutes.

  He missed her.

  A scowl dug into his cheeks. He had no idea how but the woman had wriggled under his skin like a tropical burrowing insect.

  Dillon shunted his focus back to the native birds. He needed a research whiz. Pleased he’d thought of his sister, he started to dial then stopped. Summer might tell their mother. He hesitated until a plan skittered to mind. Blackmail. Summer had kept details of her adventure in Auckland to herself, and he and Josh hadn’t blabbed. Yet. Their mother had stressed enough about her youngest living in the big city of Auckland. If she learned she’d been right to worry, Summer would receive many, many lectures.

  Yeah, if he played the blackmail card with his sister he should be safe from parental lectures and concern.

  He redialed Nikolai’s number.

  “It’s Dillon,” he said when Nikolai answered.

  “This is getting to be a habit,” Nikolai said. “You okay?”

  “Better. Ella went home this morning. I’m ringing about something else. I need Summer’s help, but I wanted to run it past you first.”

  “All right.”

  “I’ve stumbled on something here. How much of a demand is there for our native birds on the black market? Could Summer research that for me? Without mentioning anything to my parents? I hate to worry them.”

  “You suspect that’s happening?”

  “Signs point that way, but I need to check more closely on my neighbor.”

  Nikolai remained silent for a beat. “Is he trapped behind the landslide too?”

  “Yep. Ah! You think a neighborly visit might work or at least give me an in.”

  “That’s what I’d do. Visit and see if my spidey senses sing.”

  Not a bad idea. But a visit might also stir the pot and raise warning signals. Something to consider.

  “What made you suspicious?”

  “The appearance of a helicopter. It wasn’t one belonging to the local outfit that does spraying. No logos on the side, but a private bird. I can’t figure out why it would land at my neighbor’s place. That made me curious. I discovered a camera on my land. When I poked around, I found two bird traps in the trees and released a captured bird. Then, two workers came along, checking the traps. I intend to reconnoiter tonight and investigate.”

  “Do you have a guess for how many workers your neighbor employs?”

  “No, the neighbor’s farm is bigger than mine. I’ve only met him once, and he’s as rough as guts. He didn’t give me the impression of a successful farmer.”

  “You suspect he’s found a lucrative way to increase his income.”

  “Possibly. The things I’ve discovered point that way, but I might be wrong.”

  “You Williamses have a nose for trouble.”

  Dillon laughed. “Can Summer research for me? I want estimates of how much our rarer native birds might fetch on the black market. I’ve noted signs of kiwi on my property. And because my land borders Pukaha Mt. Bruce, populations of the rarer birds spill over to the neighboring bush.”

  “I’ll speak to Summer,” Nikolai said.

  “And you’ll mention she shouldn’t tell our parents, especially Mum. Tell her I’ll spill about her adventures in Auckland if she blabs.”

  “Ah, sibling blackmail. Makes me glad I was a lone child. Text me when you’re leaving and when you return,” Nikolai said. “If you need help, it won’t take me long to fly to Palmerston North. Louie and Jake might enjoy an outing too.”

  “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Knowing Summer, she’ll have the info for you by the morning. The kid is keeping us awake.”

  Dillon grinned. “Give my nephew a hug.”

  “Will do. Keep me posted.”

  Dillon hung up and decided he was hungry. He opened the fridge, peered at the dwindling contents and scowled.

  He heated yet another stew, and his thoughts slipped to Ella. Again.

  “You could always ring her, check on her.”

  He frowned. Why the devil did the voice in his head sound like Hana?

  Dillon rifled through the cupboard and found a sachet of quick-cook rice. Once he’d heated that, he tipped it into a bowl and added the stew.

  The entire time, the tiny voice yammered. “Ring Ella. You should call. Find out how she is tonight. You hit her.”

  He shoveled the stew and rice into his mouth, no longer hungry but eating because he required fuel to function.

  “Ring, Ella.”

  “All right,” he snapped. “I’ll do it. Just let me eat my dinner first.”

  To his relief, the tiny voice fell silent.

  Once he finished dinner, he washed the few dishes and cleared the surfaces. The voice started again, and he suspected it wasn’t in his head.

  “Hana,” he barked.

  The voice fell silent.

  Dillon swiped a cloth across his counter surfaces. Then, he grabbed his sat-phone and stomped to the lounge. He switched on the television and channel surfed until he came across a crime show he enjoyed.

  The voice whispered, and this time, an echo reached him. He did not believe in ghosts. He. Did. Not.

  Yet he couldn’t deny the spooky chatter. He’d dismissed Ella’s claims and sent her on her way. But they weren’t both crazy.

  He clenched his sat-phone and stared in the direction of the last whisper. “I’m ringing Ella to make sure she’s okay, not because you’re nagging me.”

  He dialed, his stomach churning with unaccountable nerves. The phone rang several times. Five. Six. Just as he was about to hang up and call himself stupid, she answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Ella, it’s me. Dillon.”

  “Dillon, you’ve been in my thoughts.”

  No pretense. Most women of his acquaintance would’ve pretended they were busy. Too busy to bring him to mind.

  “How are you?” He hesitated and decided he could be equally honest. “How is your face? Are you still in pain?”

  “A little. The painkillers help. I miss you. I don’t know how that happened. We spent three days together and I feel as if it has been years.”

  “Did I wake you?”

  “I couldn’t sleep. Ah…your wife…” She trailed off with an audible swallow. “You don’t believe me. But there is this insistent voice and once it starts, it doesn’t stop.”

  “I’ve heard her,” Dillon said. “At first I thought the voice was in my head. It’s not. It sounds like Hana.”

  “Your mother is a matchmaker.”

  Dillon groaned. “I’m sorry.”

  “I let nothing slip. She thinks I slept on the couch. Suzie, one of my friends, and I had coffee in town. Everyone wanted the details.”

  “I’m sorry. For everything.” For a second, he debated telling her about the birds, then he changed his mind. If his neighbor had big money at stake, things might get dangerous when he poked around.

  “I meant to purchase alpaca fleece from you. That’s what I’ve been telling everyone. That I drove to your place to collect fleece because I wanted to start spinning.”

  “I’ll make sure I keep our stories straight.”

  “Dillon, I told myself to ignore you and move on with my life. But… I want to keep seeing you. Um…I want you in my bed.”

  He found himself smiling. “So it wouldn’t upset you if I arrived at your backdoor one night.”

  “You can visit me any time. You don’t have to sneak.”

  “I do in order to keep my mother oblivious.”

  “Okay then.” Ella sounded happier than when she’d first answered his call.

  “What about Michael? If there is a chance of a relationship with him, I’ll stay away.”

 
“I…no. I’ve spoken to Michael and told him I’m not ready for another relationship.”

  “And if he finds out about us?”

  “I don’t blab. I never have and I’m not about to start.”

  He grinned at the pert note in her voice. “Do you have plans for tomorrow night?”

  “I have a book club meeting. Not that I’ve finished the book yet. I’m finding it hard-going.”

  “Not another book about men’s backsides?”

  “No, it’s about this man in Russia. I land firmly in the genre fiction camp. Mainly romance, and I enjoy a sprinkling of non-fiction. What about you?”

  “When I read, I enjoy something light and humorous. Mysteries are good. I live through enough drama and gunfights without reading about them. Westerns are okay. I don’t mind those.”

  “Do you listen to music or audio books?”

  “I hadn’t considered audio books. That might be a change.”

  They chatted for a bit longer before they hung up.

  “Okay, Hana, if you’re not a figment of my imagination. I’ve called her but there’s no chance of a future. I’m a career soldier. It’s what I do.”

  But he hadn’t always been that way. He and Hana had discussed his retirement. They’d both wanted a simpler life. Eventually.

  Things had changed after Hana’s death. Her murder had rocked him. Made him reassess.

  When he’d first come home, he’d harbored a vague idea about investigating her murder. He’d visited the local cops, and they’d told him what they could.

  Whoever had murdered Hana had struck her head. They hadn’t raped her but she’d worn defensive wounds. No matches for DNA found on the scene. Money and her mother’s jewelry had disappeared, along with a laptop, a tablet, and other electrical gear.

  Bottom line—the police were at a loss.

  No other aggregated robberies or other home invasions reported in the area, apart from the one closer to Masterton.

  The trail had gone cold.

  But what if Hana had come across the same things he’d discovered since being at home?

  She’d loved the birds and had told him she was making a list of the species she’d spotted.

  Something to consider.

  A yawn had him deciding to head to bed. Rather than blundering around in the dark, he’d set the alarm for dawn. He tapped out a quick message to Nikolai, informing him of his change of plans then hit the sack.

  Dillon woke before the alarm buzzed. A tui called from a tree outside, determined to rouse him before full light. A groan escaped. Another night of restless sleep, except this time Ella had filled his dreams. Sex dreams. Damn, he hadn’t had one of those for a while.

  Again, he dressed in clothing to blend. He even considered green paint for his face, but if someone caught him, he hated to invite extra questions. With camera and binoculars in hand, he set off at a brisk pace.

  He headed straight for his boundary and scaled the fence, slipping into the Mt. Bruce property. It was light enough now for him to watch his foot placement. Birds sang and squawked, greeting the day. The melodic song of the bellbird dominated the dawn chorus, giving Dillon an idea of how it must’ve been before man decimated the New Zealand forest.

  He spotted another camera, which meant backtracking and approaching from a different direction. Since he wasn’t on his land, he wanted to make sure the camera owner didn’t spot him. He also saw several bird traps, two with captive birds. He released them and took pleasure in the act.

  Last night, he’d studied the plans for his land and he’d confirmed the boundaries of his neighbor’s property. He hit the first fence and scaled it. Once he trespassed on his neighbor’s land, he noticed a higher concentration of traps. A couple held birds, but he left these in the interest of time. He wanted to poke around more before he left.

  He scaled a hill and paused at the summit. From where he stood, he had a view of the neighbor’s house and farm buildings, which were nestled in a protected valley. Cattle grazed in several paddocks, but not the numbers he would’ve assumed given the man’s acreage.

  With a practiced eye, he analyzed the area around the farm buildings, the places where he could take cover if necessary, and the most likely buildings to house birds. No helicopter in evidence. After his visual examination of the scene, he scanned with binoculars in case he’d missed anything. Lastly, he took photos of the layout to study later at home.

  After a final careful scan for people, he started his descent toward his neighbor’s home.

  If someone caught him, he hoped to talk his way out of the situation. Humor flashed through him and had him grinning. Difficult to explain the camo clothes. However, from his observations, avid birdwatchers could be eccentric. He often acted a part during their missions. Playing the part of an odd-ball birdwatcher—easier than a Sunday stroll.

  Dillon darted from trees to dips in the land’s contour. Halfway down the hill, he stopped to reconnoiter. Still quiet. Now that he was closer, he moved steadily rather than running. If anyone was watching his descent, he wanted them to think birdwatcher. Something told him birdwatchers seldom ran through the bush since scaring every bird in the vicinity defeated the purpose.

  Steadily, he continued toward his goal. A flashy utility truck sat in front of a sagging house. The lawn around the house had grown to knee-height. Dillon approached the first of the outbuildings. After a glance over his shoulder, he tried the door. It opened with a loud, protesting creak, and he froze. A beat later, he stepped inside. A quick glance told him it contained farm equipment.

  His watch warned of the rapidly advancing hour. He poked his head from the shed, and finding the way clear, he slid along the side of the corrugated iron building without bothering to close the door.

  Voices had him freezing at the corner of the shed. Had they discovered his presence or was it starting time for the workers?

  Two men. Dillon risked a glance around the corner and spotted the two men standing outside the largest of the four outbuildings. He watched one punch in a code to open the door. Suspicions raised, Dillon waited for both men to disappear inside.

  He was about to risk moving closer when one man exited and strode toward the farmhouse.

  Damn, he needed to check inside that shed, but it wouldn’t be today.

  Dillon retreated, none of his curiosity appeased. Instead, more questions filled him while his gut screamed his initial suspicions were right.

  His neighbor might have cattle on his property, but they weren’t his main source of income.

  * * * * *

  Ella tossed and turned for the entire night and was almost relieved when the alarm announced it was time for her to start her day.

  She crawled out of bed and fell into the shower, standing under the warm water for a long time. Not that it did much to counteract her dozy state. She wiped the mirror, taking pleasure in wiping away her name, shakily written in the condensation. Her jaw ached, the bruise more noticeable this morning. Her entire body cried for sleep, and she wasn’t sure how she’d get through the day.

  In the kitchen, she made a pot of tea and tried to ignore the whispers.

  “Ella. Ella. Ella.”

  The cup and saucer she’d placed on the kitchen counter rattled. Milk splattered onto the counter.

  Ella, who was peering in her fridge, whirled at the sudden racket. She turned in time to witness the cup tipping off the saucer. It skidded across the countertop and dropped over the edge. The china struck the floor tiles and smashed into three big pieces and myriad shards.

  Ella stared at the remnants of the cup—her favorite one. Her hands tightened to fists, and she sucked in an audible breath, striving for calm when the instinct to wail like an Irish banshee fought for precedence.

  On the counter, the saucer rattled and shook. It scooted toward the edge, and Ella lost it.

  “Why won’t you go? I did what you asked. Just leave me alone!”

  “Ella. Ella. Ella.”

  The s
mall hairs at the back of Ella’s nape lifted. Tears pricked in her eyes, fueled by frustration and exhaustion.

  “I can’t butt into Dillon’s life. He already thinks I’m a kook. I have to go to work.” She scowled at the saucer that teetered half off the counter. Then, she shifted her attention to the cup lying on her floor. “Maybe you could use your ghostly powers to pick that up for me.”

  She stomped back to her bedroom to pull on her uniform. After shoving her purse and a coat in Dillon’s day pack, she left her cottage.

  Since the promised car hadn’t arrived yet, she rode her bike. The ride to Pukaha Mt. Bruce was normally enjoyable, but today with exhaustion trailing her like a family pet, she wasn’t in the mood for fresh air and chirpiness.

  Ella shouted a rude word at the driver of a Mitsubishi and punctuated it with an appropriate gesture. Moron! If she’d pulled any farther off the road, she’d be in the ditch.

  It was with relief she reached her workplace. At least the ghost had never bothered her here. A glance at her watch told her she had time for coffee before she started her workday. She left her bike in the employee carpark and forced her legs to take her to the entrance.

  “Good morning,” she said to Joy.

  “Ella. Oh! Your face. You look terrible.” Joy rushed around the shop counter where they sold souvenirs and visitors paid the entrance fee to the reserve. “Should you be back at work?”

  “I’ll be fine after a coffee,” Ella said, forcing a smile even though that made her face hurt. Her makeup hadn’t covered the deeper bruising this morning. “Is Marie here? I’m not sure where I’m meant to work today.”

  “You’re down to do the eel feeding, and the staff on the kiwi house need help. Someone has to watch Kura and Boy while they’re getting acquainted, and you’re familiar with the routine.”

  “All right. I’ll grab a coffee from the café before I check in with Marie.”

  Five minutes later, coffee in hand, Ella knocked on Marie’s door.

  “Come in.”

  Ella walked into Marie’s office. “Hi, Mar—”

  Marie’s eyes widened behind her glasses, and she shot to her feet. “Ella, you look dreadful. I didn’t realize your injuries were this serious.”

  “Thanks,” Ella said drily.