Did that make her a bad person?
The thought was a dissonant chord in her mind. She moved a little away from Hartley’s warmth. She didn’t have a right to this belonging. It wasn’t what she wanted.
His arms tightened around her and he mumbled, ‘Stay with me.’
She went to answer him, to say something, but he was already asleep again. She didn’t want to wake him, so she stayed where she was, eyes wide, staring into the night. And as she lay there, his slow, steady breaths and the low thump-thump of his heart beating in his chest reverberating against her cheek, something old and painful sparked to life deep inside her, digging the claws of fear into her heart. She should never have given in to this, because it meant something to him it could never mean to her.
As the pain tore little pieces of happiness away, she knew only one thing—she couldn’t do what he asked. She could never stay with him, because this kind of happiness, it could never be hers. She’d learned that lesson and learned it well the night she’d failed to save her mum and dad.
Chapter Sixteen
Erika was gone when Hartley woke up. That wouldn’t have normally worried him, except she’d tidied up, folding the clothes she’d ripped off him the night before and placing them on the chair by the window, his shoes neatly lined up under it. Crap. When they were children, she was pedantic about everything being tidy and orderly, even lining up clothes pegs in the basket a certain way. The most extreme bouts occurred when she’d had a hard time at school or home and she’d come over to his place after cleaning hers, climbing up to the window—there was no way the Sarge would have let her inside their house—spending hours cleaning and tidying every last centimetre of his room. She’d even make his bed to within an inch of its life, the sheet folded over the top of the doona, one corner turned back just so.
He sat up with a jerk. The doona had been over him, so it was rumpled, but the blanket they’d kicked off the night before was folded across the foot of the bed, the corner turned over just so. ‘Ah shit.’ If she wasn’t covering emotional turmoil, burying it deep inside under control and order, then he was a monkey’s uncle.
He threw his clothes on and was out the door and downstairs a moment later.
Voices came from the kitchen. He pushed open the door.
‘Morning.’ Daphne’s bright smile met him as she looked up from the stove. ‘Did you have a good night’s sleep?’ The knowing light in her eyes told him she knew what he and Erika had done in the night and that she approved.
‘Do you know where Erika is?’
Daphne pointed with her spatula toward the bar. ‘She’s having a chat with Pip. Such wonderful news that Peter isn’t dead. Although, I am concerned he’s not contacted anyone to let them know he’s okay. I’ll have to give him a piece of my mind when he comes back.’
Hartley didn’t stop to listen to the rest, just charged through the kitchen and out the western doors into the bar. The shutters still hadn’t been opened to let in the morning sun, so the room was dark. Even so, he knew where she was. He felt the pull whenever she was near, a lodestone to him.
Erika’s head snapped up. She could sense him too? He hoped that was true. Perhaps his worry was needless. They had a connection. Something special and unique. She couldn’t walk away from it. It didn’t make sense.
Comforted by this thought, he made his way through the tables to her side. ‘Erika.’ He bent down to kiss her.
She stiffened, lips trembling under his as if fighting against something. He pulled away, unable to stop from frowning. ‘You were gone when I woke.’
‘I’m an early riser. And I didn’t want to wake you.’
‘I’ll always be happy to be woken by you.’ He tried a smile. She didn’t return it.
‘Pip was just trying to think of something that might help us find Peter.’ She turned back to Pip, her movements stiff. Was she embarrassed? Perhaps. This man had been a kind of father figure to her. Maybe she didn’t want him to know they’d slept together. Although that didn’t gel with the woman he knew.
The other man nodded, gaze skating questioningly between them. Hartley grabbed an upturned chair off a nearby table, righted it and took a seat at the head of the booth. Erika didn’t so much as glance at him again, keeping her gaze steadfastly on Pip. Well, if she wanted to be all business this morning, that was fine. But if she didn’t shake it off, they were going to have a talk later in the day.
He forced his mouth into a smile. ‘So, could you remember anything?’
Pip shook his head, shoulders sagging. ‘No. I have no idea where he might have gone or why. He was fired up trying to get the money to take Mabel overseas for the treatment. I can’t imagine he’d just take off suddenly.’
Erika rubbed at her brow. ‘There has to be a reason other than what the police think. He couldn’t be involved in this.’
‘He might have been helping Tyler. For Mabel.’
‘No.’ Erika’s eyes blazed.
Pip raised his hands defensively. ‘I’m just saying he would have done anything for your grandmother.’
‘Not this. He knew what she was.’
‘To you. But to him, she was different. He loved her and she loved him. It’s why he came back to look after her.’
Her eyes shadowed with pain, she stared intently at him. ‘You seriously think he could have got involved with drugs to pay Mabel’s medical bills.’
Pip nodded sadly. ‘It’s possible. If it was the only way, he just might.’
She glared from him to Hartley. ‘You think that too.’ It wasn’t a question, so he didn’t answer. She stood up. Pointed her finger at them. ‘You’re wrong. He wouldn’t do it. That’s why he contacted me. He needed money from me. And I would have given it to him. I never touched the money I got from Mum and Dad. He could have had it all.’
‘Even if you knew it was for Mabel?’
She paused, something painful twisting in her eyes. ‘For Peter. I would have done it for Peter.’
‘Do you think he would have known that?’
Her face screwed up as if she was fighting tears, but then she took a deep breath, her expression implacable. ‘He is not a murderer.’
‘Of course not,’ Pip gasped. ‘I’m not suggesting he is.’
‘The police are.’ Erika jabbed a finger at Hartley. ‘If you believe that Peter was involved in making those drugs, and yet he’s not one of the bodies, then you believe he had something to do with the murders.’
‘I never said that.’
‘But you’re thinking it.’
Her glare was like a shove, a dare to deny what she was saying. ‘It’s part of my job to look at every angle, even those ones that aren’t probable or popular.’
She made a choking sound in the back of her throat. ‘I should have known it would be like this. I should have known you’d turn out exactly like your dad, always ready to jump to the conclusion the privileged Hanson kids are rotten to the core.’
Hartley pushed up from his seat, the chair skidding back across the parquetry floor. ‘Now, that’s hardly fair.’
‘Fair? What in all this is fair?’ She threw her hands up, her face a snarl. ‘I can’t even look at you right now. I want you to leave.’
‘No. We need to talk about this.’
‘Leave!’ She pointed at the door.
He crossed his arms. ‘Not until we talk about what is really going on.’
‘What is really going on? What is really going on.’ Her voice was rising with every word. ‘What is really going on is I slept with a man last night who thinks my brother is involved in drugs and could murder two men. And it makes me feel sick. Sick.’
He flinched as her words slapped at him, but it didn’t stop him from saying what needed to be said. ‘That’s not what is really going on.’
‘No?’
‘No.’ He took a step closer, not caring that Pip was sitting there, eyes wide, watching them. ‘I think you are using that as an excuse. You know I don’t rea
lly feel that way. I know Peter isn’t a murderer. And I’m pretty sure he didn’t get involved in the drugs Tyler was making. There is some other reason why his wallet was found on the other body. But you and I both know what I feel doesn’t matter. Only the facts do. And the facts, at the moment, are pointing to Peter having been involved with what happened in that warehouse. So, it’s my job to consider all scenarios and investigate, just as it is yours. Without emotion. Without prejudice. We need to let the facts speak. You know that’s true as much as I do.’
She opened her mouth to respond, but he was too angry to let her. ‘No. It’s my turn to speak. You’ve said what you think of me, now it’s my turn to say what I think about you.’
She folded her arms and lifted her chin, almost as if she didn’t care, but he saw the fear dancing in her eyes, the pain she was running from, had been running from all these years. It made his fury wilder. He wanted her to stop running, to stop accusing, to stop fearing. Words came spilling out of his mouth.
‘You come across as if you don’t feel, but that’s just an act. A cover. Just like this bullshit about me believing Peter a murderer. It’s just an excuse so you have permission to run away, just like you did all those years ago, because you’re scared shitless. Scared to let yourself feel. Scared to let go. Scared to hold on to something, someone, outside yourself. Even when that someone loves you more than life itself. You would rather make up some stupid, cowardly excuse and run away, than face the fact you feel something real and true and raw and full. And you know what that makes you, Erika Jasmine Hanson? A coward. You’re a coward. And you know what else is true? I deserve someone who isn’t too cowardly to face me the morning after the most amazing sex of our lives, who isn’t too cowardly to hear me say I love you. I deserve someone with the strength to stand there and say it back.’
She was staring at him, arms still crossed tightly in front of her, expression shuttered more firmly than it had been before. He wasn’t even sure she’d taken in a single word of what he’d said. ‘Screw this for a joke. I’ve got work to do.’ And with that, he marched out of the Echo Springs Hotel and away from Erika. He’d been an idiot, apparently, to think she felt for him even a skerrick of what he felt for her. She was like a cyclone, sweeping in and upending his life, twisting him this way and that until he didn’t know which way was up. And he’d let her.
His dad was right. She was using him. She was heartless.
He swore again as he jerked open the door to his Patrol. That wasn’t fair. He knew she wasn’t using him. And she had a heart. It was iced over, buried so deep under fear and pain for so many years that no amount of his loving her could ever hope to thaw it. Not without some help from her. And she’d proved today that was never going to happen. She’d prefer to run away from the miracle of what they’d shared than face the fear and pain from her past. And there was nothing he could do about it.
‘Fuck!’ He slammed his hands against the wheel. He wanted to strangle Mabel Hanson for what she’d done to Erika. Instead of getting that poor, intelligent girl the help she needed after her parents died, she’d treated her granddaughter as if she was some pariah who didn’t deserve anything more than harsh words and emotional and physical torment. She’d screwed her granddaughter right royally. And she’d screwed any chance for her to experience true happiness.
In essence, Mabel Hanson had screwed them all.
And now he’d just super screwed everything over again by losing his temper with Erika and saying some horrible things to her, that while having an essence of truth, were completely unfair.
His anger slipped away as suddenly as it had come and he leaned his forehead against the steering wheel. He felt sick. What had he done? What had he done? She’d never speak to him again. And he’d deserve it if she didn’t.
His fingers curled tight over the steering wheel until his knuckles felt like they were going to pop out of his skin. Stupid. Stupid.
He sat up abruptly. He couldn’t stay here.
Turning the key so hard it almost snapped in the lock, he started the car and with a squeal of wheels, roared off down the street, knowing nothing more right now than he needed to get away before he did something more he’d live to regret.
He drove out to Echo Ridge Lookout and stared out at the horizon, but was just reminded of Erika all over again. She’d always loved this spot. They’d come here often, especially after a big rain, and just sit and stare out at the empty horizon. She’d said it made her feel like there was a possibility of everything being wiped clear and clean. A blank slate. Tabula rasa. She’d left here to get her blank slate and she’d filled it with things other than him. Perhaps it was time he accepted that fact rather than rail against it.
He had no idea how long he’d been sitting there when his radio crackled.
‘Echo 4, this is base. Come in.’
Shit. He’d forgotten he was supposed to be on duty. He picked the radio up. ‘Echo 4, base. What’s up, Dispatch? Over.’
‘The missing ambulance has been found. The Boss wants you to bring Dr Hanson to the site to look over the ambulance for evidence we might miss, over.’
His heart leapt a little at the news the ambulance had been found, but then dipped at the thought of facing Erika. ‘Copy base, but I’m not with Ms Hanson right now, over.’
There was a pause. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be guarding her? Over.’
Crap. He turned the Patrol around. ‘Copy base. I’m heading back to the hotel now. Echo 4 out.’ He only hoped his stupid need to run away hadn’t given whoever was behind the murders a free run at Erika.
He called her mobile. She didn’t answer. By the time he got back to the hotel, he was in a panic. He raced inside. Pip was at the bar.
‘Erika?’
Pip gestured over his shoulder. ‘In the kitchen with Daph. Do you want me to get her?’
Hartley leaned against the bar, relief leaving him a bit jelly-legged. ‘Is she okay?’
Pip sighed heavily. ‘She seems fine. Didn’t even tear up after you left. Just turned around and went upstairs for a while. When she came back down, she was the same as always.’
Hartley’s shoulders slumped. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved or upset about that.
Pip pointed his finger at Hartley. ‘What you said wasn’t a lie, but I’m still disappointed in you, son.’
Wow. That hurt more than he thought it would. ‘You can’t berate me more than I’ve already berated myself.’
‘Figured that might be the case.’ He put his hand on Hartley’s shoulder, squeezed. ‘This town has had its fair share of tragedies, but that girl has been through more than anyone else I have ever met. She might never be able to give you what you want.’
‘I know.’
‘But she’s worth fighting for.’
‘I know that too.’
Pip slapped his shoulder. ‘Good lad. You don’t give up. That’s how I got my Daph. And I’ve never looked back.’
At that moment, Daphne and Erika came out of the kitchen. Daphne frowned at him. ‘Daphne.’
‘Hartley.’
That was all he could manage without looking at Erika. She didn’t meet his eyes, hers fixed on the window behind him. He deserved that. Just like he deserved her curt, ‘What do you want?’
He knew it was pointless making excuses—there were none—so he just kept it simple. ‘I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it. I was angry. And hurt.’
She looked up at him, the surprise on her face so comical he would have laughed if the moment wasn’t pregnant with tension. ‘I hurt you?’
‘You did.’
She looked so confused, like she couldn’t understand how that would ever have happened. He wanted to explain, to tell her he loved her, this time without yelling it at her. Of course, that would get them nowhere, and right now there was a case that needed solving and her help needed to get them there.
‘The ambulance has been found.’
The confusion disappeared as
her keen sense of professionalism shone through. ‘You need me to look for forensic evidence.’
‘Yes.’
‘Let me get my backpack and I’ll be right with you.’
When she’d disappeared up the stairs, Daphne excused herself. ‘I’ve got two hundred scones to get in the oven and the tea cakes and finger sandwiches to make for afternoon tea.’ The Echo Springs Hotel had become famous among the retirees and grey nomads staying in the caravan parks around town for the high tea it put on every Thursday, so Hartley knew it wasn’t just an excuse. She literally did have that many scones to bake.
When Daphne had disappeared back into the kitchen, Pip slapped him on the back again and said, ‘I better get back to things too. The flowers Daph wants for the table settings won’t get in those vases by themselves.’
‘Thanks Pip.’
The other man pointed his finger at him. ‘Just don’t give up.’
Hartley nodded. Giving up on Erika was the last thing he would ever do, but he wasn’t sure it was up to him.
Chapter Seventeen
On her examination of the stolen ambulance, Erika found hairs and a smear of blood and traces of a reddish-purple soil with a silica base. The colour was particular to the area around the springs and to the north and west of the town where the old copper mines were situated. A large area. Too large to search thoroughly with only the manpower of the Echo Springs police station. There were also some shavings of metal which, when she did analysis on them, turned out to be low-grade copper. The leaf debris she’d have to send to Melbourne to identify—plants and bugs and slime weren’t her particular forte. It was important though. Knowing what it was and where it came from could narrow down a search location for where these men had come from or where they’d dumped the bodies.
There were also a couple of good boot prints but no fingerprints. They’d probably worn gloves.
Erika returned to the lab to work the samples while Hartley and Ben and Mac continued to question townspeople about Peter, the ambulance and anything suspicious they might have seen in recent weeks.
Dangerous Echoes Page 13
