She must have gone out of her own free will.
She wouldn’t have walked south. He sensed that. When he’d left her, her emotions would have been in as great a turmoil as his. How could she have slept?
She wouldn’t. If he was Sarah…
She would have gone to the beach, he decided. She would have walked into the rising sun, north-east, where the dawn was a glowing fragile beauty.
He knew it. He knew it in his gut.
So was she out walking now? Still?
Surely not. She would have known that the searchers were leaving early and she’d said she’d go with them. She was here to do a job. No matter what turmoil her life had become, her job was still important to her. She cared about the people in the plane.
She wouldn’t have forgotten.
He paced. The little hospital slept. No one needed him.
He should stay. He should stay and wait.
But more and more his gut was telling him something was wrong. Who had taken that sheet? Where were they?
He was going nuts.
‘Claire…’ He walked through to the nurses’ station and found the charge nurse. ‘Claire, I’m going out for a bit.’
‘I thought you were supposed to stay within calling range.’ Claire put her head on one side and surveyed him with interest. ‘Are you heading towards the wreck, then?’
‘No,’ he said shortly. ‘I’m going for a walk. Along the beach. North.’
‘Taking Flotsam?’
‘No.’
Claire frowned. ‘Is that where you think Sarah might have gone?’
‘It might be,’ Alistair said shortly, and left before her bright interest could respond with questions he had no way of answering.
It took patience and courage to work with that gun quivering so close to her, but by the time Sarah had rebandaged Noa’s arm and forced her to drink and to eat the woman had stopped her fearful trembling. Azron started to stir, just a little, and on instinct Sarah lifted the tiny boy and carried him to his mother. It was tricky with the bags of fluid, but she managed.
Noa watched without saying a word.
Sarah stood before her and held out the child. ‘Hold him,’ she said.
‘I need to hold the gun.’
‘I’ll sit here,’ Sarah said. ‘You can hold the gun in your right hand-your uninjured hand-with Azron cradled on your knee. He needs your warmth. He needs you.’
Noa hesitated. The gun wavered. Sarah stood, holding the child, her eyes calm and steady.
The woman needed time, Sarah thought. She wouldn’t pressure her more than she already had. She’d eaten a little and she’d drunk a full bottle of water. If she could settle with her child in her arms, maybe she could gradually learn to trust.
Maybe.
And there was time. She wouldn’t rush. Azron’s need was still urgent, but he was being rehydrated. There were antibiotics running into his system. Establishing trust with his mother was the only way forward.
‘Hold him,’ she said again, and Azron opened his eyes-just a fraction-and whimpered.
It was too much. Noa gave a tiny choking sob and held out her arms.
Sarah could have moved then. She could have grabbed the gun. But there was a risk it might have gone off-a risk she wasn’t prepared to take.
Patience.
She lowered the child onto Noa’s knee, then backed against the cliff and sat. She carefully stayed within range. She carefully stayed where the gun could easily point at her without Noa straining.
‘What now?’ she asked.
‘We wait.’ Noa was clutching Azron and Sarah saw that her need for contact was almost overwhelming. She had no clue how to go forward. But now wasn’t the time to push her further.
‘Okay. I’m happy with that. Let’s wait a while until you see your way forward,’ she agreed. She sat and let the silence drag out.
Noa’s eyes flickered to Sarah, to the face of her son, to the cleft in the rock face through which a threat might come…
Her eyes were exhausted.
‘Tell me about yourself,’ Sarah said gently. ‘Tell me what happened to drive you from your country.’
‘No.’ Noa shook her head, fierce in denial. ‘No.’ Then she hesitated. ‘You…you tell me. Tell me about you. Are you married?’
‘No.’
‘So you have no children?’
‘No.’
‘It’s good to have children.’ The woman clutched Azron a little tighter, and then seemed to make a determined effort to concentrate on Sarah.
‘Why aren’t you married? Has no man asked you?’
‘One man did,’ Sarah said softly. ‘A long time ago. And at first I said yes. But then I turned him down.’
Noa’s eyes caught hers. And held. Woman to woman.
This was the first trace of something away from her nightmare, Sarah thought. A tiny vestige of normality. One woman talking relationships with another.
‘You turned him down?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s a long story.’
‘Tell me,’ Noa whispered. ‘While we wait for my son to get well…you tell me.’
Which one?
There were so many caves around here. The sand had obliterated the barrow marks. It had to be easy walking distance, though. She couldn’t have got far.
Barry moved from cleft to cleft, his gun at the ready, staying in shadows.
Where…?
‘Bastards,’ he whispered. ‘They’ve ruined my career. Bastards…’
His finger tightened on the trigger.
Where?
Half a mile out of town Alistair found Barry. Or he saw him. He glimpsed him in the distance at first. Alistair walked on, but instinctively moved closer to the cliffs, staying out of sight.
What on earth was Barry doing here? He was in full uniform, climbing along the cliff face.
Gun raised.
Alistair melted backwards. Maybe he should call out. Should he? This was Barry, after all. He was a police officer.
But…he was a suspended police officer. Alistair had watched Barry’s face yesterday as they’d carried Amal away and he’d worried. Barry had looked at the wounded man and the expression on his face had been almost one of satisfaction. That look had disturbed him, and he’d passed on his concern to Larry. The man needed full psychological assessment.
He needed help.
Larry should have taken his gun away from him, Alistair thought. But to take his firearm… Well, it obviously hadn’t occurred to Larry. Barry wasn’t a criminal. He’d been far too over-zealous, and there was no way he could stay in the force after yesterday, but to strip him of uniform and gun straight away probably wasn’t in Larry’s jurisdiction.
And maybe it hadn’t seemed necessary.
But now… Now Alistair made a choice. He wouldn’t call out. The way Barry was moving scared him, he decided. The way he held the gun.
What on earth was he doing?
Alistair watched.
The big policeman seemed to be searching the cliff face, moving swiftly over the shale towards a cleft just above him.
Alistair frowned, growing more uneasy by the minute. What did Barry know that they didn’t?
Where was Sarah?
Making a swift decision, he pulled back, out of sight behind a rock face. Lifting his cellphone, he dialled Larry. Okay, Larry was involved in an urgent police search, south of town, but Alistair didn’t like what was happening here one bit. There were things that didn’t fit.
What was Barry doing out here? The man was suspended. He had no business wearing his uniform. He had no business holding a gun.
Where was Sarah?
‘Larry?’ he said into the phone, keeping his voice low. ‘Larry, I think I need help. I’ll tell you what’s happening. Listen…’
Behind the cliff face, things were easier.
The last half-hour had been spent establishing trust. Azron seemed to have stabilised. His
breathing was easier, his pulse was strengthening and he seemed naturally asleep in his mother’s arms. Sarah felt that her decision not to push things had been justified.
And Noa?
She’d listened as Sarah had told her story. It was a pathetic tale, Sarah decided-a story of loving one twin too much and one too little-but it had served its purpose. Noa’s body seemed to have relaxed, some of the awful tension easing. At the end her questions had been thoughtful and sympathetic, and Sarah had thought, Who was treating who?
But it was good. It had turned the tables just a little, giving Noa back a trace of her dignity. It was a tiny taste of normality in a world that was no longer normal.
And then there was the sound of footsteps. Shale slipping down the cliff face. Someone approaching.
Sarah was sitting by the cleft. She couldn’t see.
But Noa…Noa could see. Noa could hear. The fear which had blessedly eased over the last few minutes came flooding back. Her gun jerked upward, waving from Sarah to the cleft and back.
‘Move. Sideways.’
‘Noa, I don’t know who this is, but it’ll be a friend.’ Sarah’s voice was urgent. ‘Please. Let me see who it is. Let me stop them.’
‘Move.’ Noa was on her feet, clutching her son hard against her, her hand somehow still controlling the gun. She glanced behind her to the north face, where the shale of the cliff face rose at an almost forty-five-degree angle. ‘Move away from the entrance.’
Sarah moved. About a foot. Her eyes didn’t leave Noa’s gun.
‘Whoever it is, stay where you are!’ Sarah called out. ‘We’re fine. Noa’s fine. Don’t come closer.’
That’d stop Larry, she thought. He’d get her urgency. He’d stop.
The footsteps paused.
Then… ‘Whoever’s in there, I have you covered. Get out now. Come out now with your hands up.’
Barry.
It was Barry. His voice was deep and low and unmistakable.
Sarah’s gaze flew back to Noa and she saw that Noa knew exactly who was out there. The man who had shot her husband.
She was holding her injured son.
She was trapped.
‘No,’ Noa whispered. She cast an anguished look at Sarah-as if for just a moment she’d learned to trust and that trust had been dreadfully betrayed-and then she turned to the cliff.
‘You can’t climb-’ Sarah took a step towards her but the gun whirled back.
‘Don’t stop me. We must.’ The woman hauled the ends of her gown around her son and tied them hard, hauling the little boy into her body with a skill that must have been learned from generations of women who suffered with children in terror-torn countries. And then she took her first steps up the rock face.
The shale slipped.
Noa held. Her feet, in flimsy rope sandals, gripped the shale. She moved upward.
How could she hold on? How?
‘Noa, no!’
‘Stop or I’ll shoot!’
Barry was standing in the cleft in full uniform, his two hands holding his gun. Whether he meant the threat or not, he was pointing it straight at Noa.
Noa turned back to face him. Wavering. It was impossible for her to climb. Impossible.
So she did the only thing left to her. Leaning back against the shale, somehow balancing, she raised her gun towards Barry. ‘No!’
Sarah screamed. One yell that split the morning. She dived straight across, launching herself at Barry’s gun hand. He whirled.
She grabbed and pulled. ‘No!’
A searing, white-hot pain.
‘No…!’
From where he stood behind a rock face Alistair heard Sarah call out.
‘Whoever it is, stay where you are! We’re fine. Noa’s fine. Don’t come closer.’
Alistair dropped the phone and started forward. He saw Barry move into the cleft.
In the background he heard Larry’s voice, urgent over the phone, but he ignored it.
‘Whoever’s in there, I have you covered. Get out now. Come out now with your hands up.’
Dear God…
All he could see was Barry’s back. Then he was running, covering the yards to the foot of the cliff. Starting to climb.
‘Stop or I’ll shoot!’
‘No!’
Sarah! He was flying. He hadn’t known his body could move so fast. But not fast enough. Not-
‘No…!’
Sarah’s scream froze his heart. And then the crack of a pistol shot.
No!
He launched himself forward in a rugby tackle that he hadn’t known he remembered.
He hit Barry square on and they flew forward together in the dust. Barry’s hand still gripped the gun, but Alistair had him, tackling him to the ground with a strength born of terror. As they smashed into the ground his fingers found what they so desperately sought. They found the gun. Wrenched. Barry turned. Alistair’s knee came up in an age-old method of self-defence that was pure instinct.
Barry grunted in agony and the pistol flew.
At the cliff face, a woman with a child-shaped bundle roped to her body was sliding down the shale. Alistair had no time to see. Barry was hauling back his fist but Alistair was before him, smashing, working with a strength he’d never known he had. Never dreamed he could use. He hit. Hit again.
And Barry slumped.
Enough. The threat momentarily allayed, Alistair whirled to find the woman standing staring down at him. With a pistol in each hand.
Beside her was Sarah. Sarah… There was a crease of crimson on her forehead. She lay limp and lifeless in the sand.
‘Sarah…’ He moved, but the woman stopped him. She stepped between Alistair and Sarah and the pistols pointed straight at his heart.
‘Wh…who are you?’ she whispered.
‘Alistair.’ It was a stupid thing to say. A really stupid thing to say. But he’d gone past thinking. All he could see was Sarah. All he could think of was Sarah.
‘You’re Sarah’s Alistair?’ Noa whispered, and Alistair nodded. How on earth she’d known he couldn’t tell, but he was past disputing such a basic part of his being.
Sarah’s Alastair…
‘Yes. Yes, I am.’
The woman looked at him for a long, long moment. And then her body seemed to slump. She turned to where Barry was hauling himself together, gathering himself to lash out again.
The guns moved away from Alistair and pointed straight at Barry.
‘Stay where you are!’ she spat. ‘Stay.’ Her glance moved to Sarah. ‘Alistair,’ she whispered, as if it was a mantra. ‘Sarah’s Alistair. Please. Save Sarah. Help Sarah. We need…help.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE second helicopter was ready to leave at dusk. It took away Larry’s élite police squad, and also Barry-in handcuffs, being taken to Brisbane to face criminal charges.
Larry was the last on the chopper. He’d apologised so many times Alistair had been forced to reassure him.
‘It’s not your fault.’
‘No, but Barry’s a cop, and when one of our own goes bad…well, we all feel it.’
‘But you fixed it.’ Alistair gave a rueful smile as they stood beside the waiting helicopter. ‘I never knew the results of a telephone call could be so amazing. How long did it take you to reach us?’
‘God knows. I heard that shot down the phoneline and I forget how fast I moved,’ Larry told him. ‘I came closer than I ever want to come again to having a heart attack.’
‘I was having one of my own,’ Alistair admitted. He hesitated. ‘You’ll see that Noa and Azron are safe?’
‘They’re already in Cairns,’ Larry told him. The first evacuation helicopter had left some hours before, with Noa and Azron and a full medical team aboard. ‘I had a radio message just now. Word is that the little one’s stable. The doctors think he’ll make it. Thanks to you.’
‘Thanks to Sarah.’
‘Mmm.’ They’d stared out into the dusk. It had taken time to organis
e the second helicopter flight, giving them time to think things through.
‘What do you think will happen?’ Alistair asked, and Larry gave a rueful smile.
‘To who? To Barry? I suspect he’ll end up in a psychiatric institution. He seems to have lost all logic. To the people behind this racket? The police in Sydney have moved to arrest the ringleader. The smuggling ring is smashed. Howard might end up in jail, but he’s small fry. He might get off with a suspended sentence. The guy behind it, though, will be put away for a very long time. Robbing people who are terrified for their lives… Jail’s too good for him. And as for Noa and Amal and Azron-their story will be checked, but if it holds water, and I have no reason to suspect it won’t, then they’ll be granted refugee status and cared for. The word from Cairns is that Amal is going to pull through. They’ve been very lucky.’
‘Or very unlucky. Depending how you look at it.’
‘As you say.’ The helicopter was loaded, they were waiting for Larry, and Larry turned to grip Alistair’s hand. ‘Thanks, mate. Invite me to your wedding, will you?’
Alistair paused. ‘What?’
‘Are you arguing?’
And Alistair grinned. ‘No,’ he said at last. ‘No, I’m not.’
The ward was in darkness.
Sarah had come round almost at once, surfacing to chaos. Noa weeping. Barry shouting obscenities. Alistair swearing, over and over again, but his fingers so tender as they probed the pain across her forehead. Larry and his men bursting through the cleft, barking instructions.
Being held by Alistair…
And then Alistair having to leave her. The jolting had made Azron’s leg bleed. He had to focus on the little boy. But he was still there, supervising as one of the men held a pressure pack above the crease line made by the bullet across her forehead, making sure she wasn’t jolted as she was carried into a waiting truck, refusing to even consider her protest that she was okay, she could walk…
He’d been with her to show her the results of X-rays-X-rays that showed she’d been concussed by the force of the bullet but that it had grazed her and done no substantial injury.
The Police Doctor’s Secret Page 17
