The Australian's Desire (Mills & Boon By Request)

by Marion Lennox, Lilian Darcy, Lilian Darcy

  ‘But Max is definitely there,’ Georgie faltered. She looked up at Alistair. ‘He is,’ she said dully. ‘This is Spike. Max has just stopped carrying Spike around but Spike’s never far from him.’

  ‘But there’s also the shoe,’ Harry said slowly, and behind them the phone rang.

  ‘The shoe?’

  ‘There’s a child’s shoe. It worried the guys at the bus. Hold on and I’ll fetch it. I think we might have left it at the front desk.’ He turned and walked swiftly away from them.

  He should go, Alistair thought. He might be needed.

  He wasn’t leaving Georgie.

  Georgie was staring straight ahead. ‘I know he’s there. I need to go.’

  ‘You can’t,’ he said, appalled.

  She looked up at him mutely and clutched the bear.

  ‘I …’

  He stooped to hold her. ‘No.’

  The phone was getting to him. Hell, it was two in the morning. This was the emergency entrance. He crossed to the desk and lifted the receiver.

  ‘Dr Carmichael?’ a woman demanded.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Charles said you were in Emergency,’ she said. ‘This is Fiona. I’m manning the phones here. I have a woman on the line who needs to talk to you urgently.’

  ‘To me?’ he said blankly, and then he thought, Two in the morning, it’d be someone from home. Eloise? Some drama with the team at home?

  He glanced down at Georgie. She was holding the teddy like it was a talisman, staring out into the night, as bleak as death. But her face was closed. She walked alone, this woman. When she was hurt she closed herself off.

  ‘Put her through,’ he told Fiona, not taking his eyes off Georgie.

  ‘Is that Dr Carmichael?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. The woman sounded as if she was whispering.

  ‘You rang me earlier asking about Ron’s son. Max.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, becoming more alert. ‘Yes, I did. Can you give me any information?’

  ‘It’s on the radio,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t sleep and I was listening to the radio. They said the Mt Isa bus has crashed. They’re talking multiple casualties. They say—’

  ‘Are you worried that Max is on the bus?’ he asked, cutting to the chase, and Georgie stared up at him, her attention caught.

  ‘He is. My husband said Ron got rid of the kid. I was just …’ She paused and took a deep breath. ‘Well, I never thought … not for a minute, not really, but Max and his dad stayed here a while back and he’s such a little boy. Him and that dog. And Ron didn’t care. So when he said he’d got rid … Anyway, I told my husband that if he didn’t tell me what Ron had done with him I’d go to the police, so help me. My husband knows me well enough now to know I don’t stand up to him very often, but when I do I mean it.’

  ‘When Ron said he’d got rid of him,’ Alistair prodded, and Georgie was right beside him.

  ‘I didn’t think … well, he is his father after all, so he wouldn’t … But if he had then I would have killed them both. But he said that Ron put him on the bus to his sister. Georgie. Max talked about Georgie all the time. Ron hated the dog but Max said Georgie would like him.’

  ‘So Max is on the bus from Mt Isa,’ Alistair said.

  ‘That’s what I said.’ The woman was crying. ‘Ron’s on the run and we took him in for a bit and I hated it but I put up with it because of the kiddie. And my hubby wouldn’t let the kid stay here. So he said he’d got rid of him and I made him tell me—’

  ‘He was on the bus last night?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ The woman was weeping. ‘I nearly told you this afternoon when you rang but I was so scared. But he left here on Thursday and we’re … Well, I’m not saying where we are, no names, but it fits and if he’s on the bus, someone should know.’

  ‘Thank you so much,’ Alistair said gently. ‘You wouldn’t like to tell me your name?’

  ‘No,’ the woman said. ‘I wouldn’t.’

  And the phone went dead.

  Alistair turned to look at Georgie. ‘It is him,’ he said, but she already knew.

  ‘Here’s the shoe,’ Harry said, walking swiftly back into the room. ‘But it has to be too small to belong to Max.’ Georgie grabbed it before he was two steps into the room. Harry was right—the shoe was tiny. It looked hand-painted, with a red painted fish whose eye was camouflaging a small hole.

  ‘It’s not his,’ she said.

  ‘Then whose?’ Harry demanded. ‘The guys found it up the back of the bus. But we’ve searched at least a hundred yards in all directions and in that country no one’s likely to have gone further, least of all a child.’

  ‘But it’s not Max’s,’ Georgie said stubbornly, and shook her head. ‘No matter. The backpack’s his. I’m going out there now.’

  ‘Are you kidding?’ Harry moved swiftly between Georgie and the door, blocking the way.

  ‘Max is up there,’ she said. ‘Get out of the way, Harry.’

  ‘Georg, there’s a cyclone hitting within hours. There’s no way we’re letting you go out to the bus site, even if you could get through, which you can’t. A huge tree crashed down just as we got the last of the passengers out. We were lucky to get out ourselves. If I thought it was possible I’d go myself—walk in if I had to, maybe take a team in—but I can’t leave the town right now. No one can. We don’t know when this storm’s going to hit.’

  ‘I’ll take my dirt bike,’ she snapped. She tried to shove Harry aside but he wouldn’t move. He held her as if she was a featherweight, and her karate knowledge did her no good at all against the big policeman’s superior strength.

  ‘No,’ Harry told her. ‘You said yourself it’s not his shoe.’

  ‘Then there’s two kids,’ she snapped, and shoved him again. ‘Let me past.’

  ‘We have no proof, and it’s suicide, Georg.’

  ‘We do have proof,’ Alistair said gently from behind them. ‘Harry, we’ve just had phone confirmation that Max was definitely on the bus. Suicide or not, there’s a child’s life at stake. I’ll go with her.’

  The pushing stopped. Georgie whirled to face him, her face a mixture of anguish and fear. ‘You can’t.’

  ‘Don’t you start saying I can’t,’ he said. ‘Harry, the tree’s blocking the road, right? Who else in town has a dirt bike?’

  ‘I have one,’ Harry told him, making a decision and moving swiftly into organisational mode. They now definitely had one child out there, and maybe another. That was worth taking risks for.

  He’d go himself, Georgie realised, if the safety of the rest of Crocodile Creek wasn’t resting squarely on his organisational shoulders.

  ‘It’s in the shed, Georgie, fuelled up, key above the door …’

  But Georgie wasn’t listening. She was staring at Alistair. ‘You really can ride?’

  ‘I can ride.’

  ‘You’d better not hold me back.’

  ‘Stop arguing, you two, and get going. You don’t have long,’ Harry said. ‘Watch your footing off road. These hills are old gold country and the place is littered with disused mine shafts. Don’t take a step until you know it’s safe. You’ve got a radio, Georg? Of course not. Take mine and I’ll pick up a spare at the station. Your cellphone won’t work out there.’

  ‘We’re going,’ Georgie said. ‘I have to get out of these clothes.’

  ‘Stilettos might be a bad idea,’ Harry said gravely, but he was saying it to their backs. They were gone.

  Leaving Harry looking after them. With a tiny shoe still in his hand.

  Could Alistair really ride? She hardly believed him but by the time she’d changed swiftly into leathers and sensible shirt and boots and fetched her own bike from the sheds at the back of the doctors’ house, Alistair was in the sheltered forecourt of the hospital, complete with bike.

  The bike was an oldie but a goodie. It’d handle rough stuff.

  And maybe so could Alistair. To her further astonishment he was dressed as sensibly
as she was—in leathers as well.

  ‘Borrowed plumage,’ he said as she wheeled up beside him. ‘This stuff was by the bike and in this wind we’ll need all the protection we can get. And I’ve organised gear.’

  It seemed he had, and he’d rallied the troops. Jill came rushing out of the main entrance as he spoke. Crocodile Creek’s charge nurse had a white coat covering her wedding finery, but she’d defiantly repinned an exquisite orchid corsage onto her lapel.

  She was carrying two emergency services backpacks.

  ‘Charles told me to equip these for you,’ she said. ‘Your bikes aren’t geared for baggage. Energy drinks, emergency saline, painkillers, a small oxygen canister, collars—everything you might need but we hope you don’t. Also there’s a decent radio that will get through to here. Charles says it stays on your back whatever happens and keep us informed. Harry also said to tell you he had to abandon a vehicle on the far side of the road block. He left the keys in it so you might be able to use it or take cover there if the wind gets too strong. But Charles says get in there, take a look and get out again fast. And no heroics.’ She paused for breath. And swallowed. Her fear was palpable.

  ‘You’re all right here?’ Alistair said, feeling torn. He’d done all he could to alleviate cerebral pressure on the woman with the head injury but he was aware that there was maybe a score of other patients. But Max … And maybe another child. What could be more urgent than that?

  ‘We’re under control,’ Jill said, recovering, and he could tell by her voice that she’d guessed his thoughts. ‘Charles concurs. This takes priority or he’d never let you go. We’ve got so many doctors from this wedding that we’re OK. Your job is to look after Georgie. And yours,’ she said, turning to Georgie and giving her a swift but fierce hug, ‘is to find Max. Charles says he’ll move heaven and earth to get you custody from now on. Our Lily loves him. CJ loves him. We all love him. Bring him home safe.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THAT was it. The time for talking was over. It took all their concentration and more to keep the bikes on the road. The road up into the mountains was steep, and that helped a little. The road had been cut into the mountainside, forming a sheer cliff to their left. The cliff gave them a little shelter—not much, but without it riding would be impossible. Even under the lee of the cliff, debris was already piling up. Rain was slashing into their visors. It was like a scene from a nightmare—and the cyclone hadn’t yet hit!

  Alistair rode ahead, inching his way through the mess, and Georgie was content to let him. It had only taken minutes for her to realise that he could do more than just ride a bike. The man was an expert.

  So why had he refused her offer of a ride on the back of a Harley when she’d collected him from the airport?

  Pride, she thought, trying to keep her mind on anything but the thought of Max somewhere out in this storm. In his gorgeous suit Alistair would have looked pretty silly.

  OK, one to Alistair. She was ready to forgive him anything right now. She’d have come alone, but now all she had to do was keep her bike on track behind his, keep him within sight, letting him do the initial assessment of the road and the obstacles in their way. To come here alone would be terrifying. But to have him in front …

  Careful, she told herself. She didn’t do dependence. Alistair was one of the gentle ones, intelligent, caring, nice …

  Oh, cut it out. The man was a loner. As if he’d be interested …

  And if he was, then she wasn’t. Happy families? She didn’t think so.

  Where was Max?

  Twenty minutes from home they found the tree. A massive gum blocked the road entirely. They pulled to a halt, propped their bikes and checked it out.

  They didn’t speak. The wind was terrific, hurling leaf litter everywhere, and the rain was almost blinding them. The sound of the wind was almost deafening in itself and taking off their helmets to make it easier to listen would be crazy.

  Alistair grabbed her hand and towed her. She let him. The wind was so strong she felt she might be blown off the mountain if she didn’t hold onto something.

  And holding onto Alistair was … well, OK.

  There was a way around. At the base of the tree, where the massive roots had ripped their way out of the rain-sodden ground, the land must have initially been almost clear. There was a passage of sorts around the roots. They could take their bikes through.

  They walked it first, emerging on the other side to see, as promised, one of the hospital’s four-wheel-drive trucks. If Harry had been driving it, he was lucky he hadn’t been ten feet further along when the tree had crashed, Georgie thought. Hell …

  ‘Will we go the rest of the way in the car?’ she yelled to Alistair, and he shook his head.

  ‘If one tree was down a few hours ago, there’s bound to be more down by now. The bikes are our only chance. But stay close to me. Don’t drop back more than ten feet.’ He’d been yelling, too, and a sudden drop in the swirling wind made his voice echo. He grinned and, seemingly on impulse, undid his helmet clips, pushed up her helmet, did the same to his, tugged her close and kissed her gently on the lips. Then replaced his helmet as if nothing had happened at all.

  ‘We’ll find him,’ he said softly. ‘Come on, Georg. Let’s go.’

  The bus scene was chaos.

  They’d been given careful directions but it wasn’t hard to find. Ten minutes of careful riding past the fallen tree and there it was.

  Or there it wasn’t. The entire roadway had slipped, the slide having started from the cliff above, leaving the road a mass of sodden rocks and soil.

  There were chains anchored to trees, disappearing down the slide. There were the marks of people—lots of people. The start of the slip was scarred with a mass of footprints, heavy boots, the signs of rescue workers involved in a massive retrieval operation.

  They still kept their helmets on—it’d be crazy to take them off. Propping their bikes on the sheltered side of the road, they inched their way to the edge of the landslip, shining the powerful flashlights they’d been provided with.

  Twenty feet below was the bus.

  ‘It’s stable,’ Alistair yelled across the wind. ‘The guys said it’s securely fastened. They used cables to make it safe.’

  ‘I’m going down.’ And she was sliding down in the mud, not caring what Alistair was doing, forgetting Alistair completely. She felt sick. Somewhere here was Max. Somewhere …

  If he’d felt like hiding when the rescuers had come then maybe he’d be back in the bus by now. That’d be the sensible place for him to be. Please …

  She tried to hurry but Alistair was behind her, gripping her shoulder, hauling her back.

  ‘You fall and break your ankle and there’s all of us in a mess,’ he yelled. ‘And remember what Harry said about old mine shafts. We do this carefully and sensibly, Georg, or not at all.’

  She tried to brush him off but his hand still held her.

  ‘What’s it to be, Georg?’ he yelled. ‘If you start being crazy, I’ll pick you up and tie you to a tree till I’m done, and I’ll search the place alone.’

  ‘You wouldn’t …’ She whirled to face him, trying to shove his hand away.

  ‘Try me,’ he said.

  She stared up into his face—and she knew she’d met her match. His face was implacable. Either she started being sensible or he’d pick her up and put her where she’d be safe. What he’d do to keep her there she didn’t know, but this man wasn’t to be crossed.

  ‘OK,’ she said, trying not to sound as shaken as she felt. ‘But I stay in front.’

  ‘No,’ he said, and grabbed her hand. ‘We do this side by side, Georgie, or not at all.’

  So side by side it was.

  Even when they got to the bus he stuck by her. The teams before them had smashed out the front and back windows, or maybe they’d been smashed in the slide. The bus was sprawled on its side, its floor facing the road. They reached the front window and Georgie put her hand on the
frame preparatory to climbing in.

  ‘No,’ Alistair said, and hauled her back. ‘Not until I check the cables. The guys said they were OK but I’m not taking anyone’s word on it. I want to know this baby’s secure.’

  ‘You check the cables and I’ll go in,’ she screamed into the wind, desperate to find out, even if it meant finding out the worst.

  For answer he simply tugged her sideways and took her with him.

  The cables were OK. The bus seemed solid, but by the time Alistair finally acquiesced to climbing aboard she was almost ready to scream.

  Inside, the bus was appalling. People had bled here. People had died here. There’d been no thoughts of clearing the mess—the rescue teams had moved as fast as possible to get everyone out and get off the mountain. Therefore the detritus of the rescue effort was still here. Dressing covers. Blood-stained clothing. A damaged saline bag, still half-full. And the rain was blasting in, soaking everything.

  It looked like the scene of a massacre. They clambered inside and stood up as best they could and gazed around them.

  Nothing.

  No Max.

  ‘Do you suppose he’s under the bus?’ Georgie asked, her voice faltering. Here inside the bus the noise of the wind was almost bearable.

  ‘Harry says not,’ Alistair said. There was no need now for him to be holding her hand but he was definitely holding it. It seemed a link that they both valued. ‘The driver was caught underneath. They had to do a bit of levering to get him out—they did that last thing. But as they worked the bus moved again. It shifted over a tree stump before settling and they got a clear look underneath. They’re almost a hundred per cent certain that it’s clear.’

  ‘But they’re not absolutely a hundred per cent certain,’ she said, swallowing.

  ‘Let’s not look for more trouble than we already have,’ he said, pulling her with him as he checked every seat in turn. Making absolutely sure a small body wasn’t wedged somewhere it could have been missed.

  No one. Nothing.

  The radio crackled into life in Alistair’s backpack. He let go of Georgie’s hand to drag his pack off and retrieve it. He watched Georgie all the time, as if concerned she’d bolt. ‘Yes?’