Burning Lies

by Helene Young

  His thoughts kept him company on the drive back to the bowls club where he picked up the group of retirees. It took a little longer to load them into the bus than the kids, but the noise levels were the same as he drove them back to the Rose Gum aged care home. They bantered with him, cupping their ears to hear him better.

  His shoulder was slapped a dozen times as they filed out. A couple of the women gave him motherly smiles as he helped them down the last small step. The younger of the two carers stopped next to him, smoothing her glossy hair. He could smell her perfume and the faint musk of a woman. She was an attractive divorcee and he wasn’t immune to her charms.

  ‘Thanks, Speedy. You’re so patient with them all. They much prefer you in charge of the wheel. They think the world of you.’ She leant in a little. ‘And do so I. See you next time.’ She hit him with a wide smile that seemed all the brighter for the shiny lip gloss.

  ‘See you later, Lorraine.’

  ‘See you, Speedy.’

  The older carer was the last to leave. ‘Catch you next time.’ The glance she gave him was shrewd. It didn’t need to be. He knew better than to take Lorraine up on any perceived offer. The company didn’t like the drivers fraternising with the customers. Of course that didn’t stop him fantasising about what it would be like to lie with a woman without money changing hands and without the spectre of failure looming in the dark.

  He shifted in his seat, feeling his body burn with sudden desire. He lifted his foot off the brake and the bus moved forward. Time to visit the house in Parramatta Park down in Cairns again. The women were clean and the prices reasonable. Better to service the need than become consumed by it.

  Chapter 11

  SORTING through Jerry’s junk was taking longer than Ryan had expected, but he had nowhere else to be. Ferreting around in someone else’s life had always fascinated him. Perhaps that was part of the reason he’d become a copper. You were legally allowed to root around and uncover other people’s secrets. In fact, it was your duty. In a weird way he’d always been reassured by the strangeness of those lives. It made his seem a whole lot less dysfunctional.

  A phone rang and he reached up to the table from where he sat on the floor. It was his undercover phone, his ‘hello’ phone.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Ryan.’ It was pure gravel.

  ‘Hello?’ He straightened up, not recognising the voice.

  ‘Don’t think there won’t be payback.’

  ‘Mate, think you’ve got the wrong number. Who’re you looking for?’ He didn’t hang up, hoping they might trace it. The caller at the other end laughed, a mirthless bark. Ryan tried again. ‘Sorry, who is this?’

  ‘You’ve got no idea what we’re capable of doing to you. No fuckin’ idea.’

  The phone went dead and Ryan dialled out. ‘Trace required.’ He read out his phone’s details. He didn’t think he’d held the caller on the line long enough. ‘Getting soft, mate,’ he chided himself. ‘Keep ’em talking. Basic stuff.’

  He shifted onto his knees and reached out to drag the last suitcase towards him. The top journal shook a touch as he lifted it out. He glared at his hands. What the hell? No scumbag bikie was going to rattle him.

  His other mobile phone rang. This number he knew. He still paused before he answered, sighing as he slumped onto the floor in resignation. ‘Marion, hello.’ He tried to put some welcome into the words.

  ‘Ryan, darling, how are you? You haven’t rung in weeks. Where are you?’ His mother’s voice was one of her best features, low, husky and warm. It bore no relationship to the woman.

  ‘Busy working.’ He knew she hated his job, and that was without having any idea what it really entailed. All she knew was that he’d denied her the kudos of being the mother of a naval officer. She’d loved being able to boast about him when he was dux of his class at officer training, when he won the inter-services swimming trophy, when he was chosen above classmates to speak at functions.

  A federal policeman was a long way down the ladder on her status list. Knowing he was an undercover operative might have added some drama for her, but her lips were legendary for being loose. He’d played on that when he wanted something spread far and wide. He’d been callous enough to dump a girlfriend that way. Even now, that memory made him squirm. Thankfully, he’d come a long way from that level of immaturity. Now he just stayed away from commitment full stop. And told his mother nothing.

  He realised she’d asked him a question. ‘Sorry, you were drowned out by the noise outside. Say again?’

  The click of her tongue was unmistakable. ‘You’re as bad as your father. He doesn’t listen either.’

  No surprises there. Ryan held his laugh.

  ‘I asked if you were going to be here for your father’s sixtieth birthday party. It’s in four weeks’ time and I need to let the caterer know numbers. We’d both appreciate you being here. You are our only child.’

  Inwardly he groaned. This might be a duty he couldn’t escape. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

  ‘Will you bring a partner or can I invite one for you?’

  ‘No, no. I’ll bring a partner. No need to go fishing for me.’ She’d spent her whole life fixing him up, starting with his tenth birthday party when she’d had to have even numbers. It hadn’t got any better with time.

  ‘Fiona’s divorce is through and she’ll be there.’

  ‘Thanks, but no.’ He was firm this time. Fiona was far too nice and far too damaged for him. He had nothing to offer her but more pain. The work phone rang and he eyed it off as it vibrated towards the edge of the table. ‘I’ll call you back.’

  ‘But darling —’

  He cut her off and reached for the other phone as it tipped over the edge. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Mate, you busy?’ It was Crusoe.

  ‘No, you?’

  ‘Some interesting chatter around. Check out the score.’

  The phone went dead and Ryan pushed to his feet, dusting the seat of his jeans as he walked over to the computer. He still had his own phone in his other hand and he placed the two side by side. The work phone was state-of-the-art technology. His own was a Nokia brick from the era when phones enabled you to talk to someone, not tweet, Facebook, take photos or surf the web. It also never missed a beat.

  The email from Crusoe was a detailed run of surveillance on two of the Nemesis boys who’d been released on bail early in the case. It looked like they were getting serious about trying to find Ryan.

  The Nemesis network had been wrapped up, along with the business interests of an international criminal, Rashid Mahoud. Rashid’s books alone were enough to incriminate the club. The trial would succeed even without Ryan’s testimony. The bikies had nothing to gain by killing him, except a longer prison term. And revenge.

  They’d even been rash enough to approach one of the New South Wales police undercovers for a possible hit. Couldn’t be better for collating more charges to hang on them. Conspiring to kill a federal policeman held significant penalties.

  Ryan started to dial his mother’s number again, knowing that if he didn’t she’d be offended for weeks to come and make his life hell. He was about to hit call when he heard a noise outside and shot to his feet, reaching for his gun.

  He hadn’t heard a car approaching so it might be someone on foot, or maybe on horseback. Around these parts plenty of people had horses. He edged closer to the long windows in time to see a bright flash of auburn hair. His shoulders dropped. The kid from the bunker next door, fiddling with something on the carry rack of a pushbike.

  Ryan tucked the gun into the waist of his jeans and pulled his shirt down over it. Damn. He’d have to discourage this. There was no place in an undercover operation for a stray. A child caught in the crossfire if things got ugly didn’t bear thinking about. He didn’t need that on his conscience. Jack Coglan was enough guilt for a lifetime. He felt the familiar lurch of his stomach. Just another memory to punch aside. Footsteps scraped the bottom stairs and the so
und nudged him into action.

  He opened the front door and strode to the edge of the veranda, hands on his hips.

  ‘G’day.’ He went for unfriendly and saw the recognition of it in the young lad’s face. The tin in his hands shook for an instant.

  ‘Hi.’ The boy swallowed. ‘Nan said it was okay to ride round and see you.’

  ‘Did she.’ Ryan gave the lad full marks for standing still. He looked like he wanted to bolt.

  ‘Yep, she said it wasn’t polite to ignore you. She sent a cake.’ He held out the tin.

  ‘Right.’

  ‘I’m Dan.’ He inched up the stairs and held out his hand, the cake still clutched in the other. Someone had taught the kid manners.

  ‘Ryan.’ He reached down and made sure not to engulf the young hand completely, but he needn’t have bothered. For a youngster Dan had a firm grip and long fingers. He also looked Ryan straight in the eye. Despite himself, Ryan cracked a grin.

  ‘Good handshake there.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Dan blushed crimson. ‘Here.’ The lad thrust the cake at him and Ryan took it.

  He tried again, remembering how hard it was at that age to speak to adults. ‘You want some cake? Some water?’ The heat of the day was still intense and the afternoon breeze hadn’t materialised. Sweat stained Dan’s neck and armpits. His fair skin didn’t sit well in the tropics.

  ‘No.’ Dan shook his head then seemed to remember those manners. ‘Thanks. I’ve had some already and Nan doesn’t let me out without water.’

  No mention of a dad. Interesting. ‘So, how was school?’

  ‘Good.’ No sign of resentment or complaint. ‘Swimming today so that’s cool.’

  ‘I bet.’

  ‘I’m home early.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘The bus driver drove me all the way. That’s why I’ve got time to ride now.’

  ‘Homework?’

  This time the straight nose screwed up. ‘Yeah, lots. And piano.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘My nan teaches me, and Mum sometimes.’

  Okay, so there was a mother.

  ‘Your dad?’

  ‘No, I don’t have a dad.’

  ‘I see.’ And suddenly he did. The kid was lonely and in need of a father-figure. He couldn’t do that. He had no idea how. ‘Well, nice to meet you, but I better get back to work. Do you need a lift home or are you right to ride?’

  ‘I’m right.’ He looked crestfallen. It niggled at Ryan.

  ‘You want to poke around the yard?’

  ‘Can I? Jerry used to let me sort stuff.’

  Of course. Jerry would have loved having a young person to talk to. It made sense.

  ‘You go and sort to your heart’s content, then. Yell if you need me. I’ll be inside.’ Jerry had let Ryan ferret through the piles of junk when he was about Dan’s age. Every once in while Jerry would join him and they’d unearth some fascinating piece of machinery just waiting to be reconditioned. Ryan had learnt more in the school holidays up here than he had the rest of the year.

  The ‘hello’ phone rang again inside and he nodded at Dan. ‘Fill your boots, mate.’

  The quick grin Dan shot him was pure delight, but Ryan walked back inside feeling like a jerk. The kid wanted company, not a licence to fossick.

  ‘Hello.’ He placed the tin on the table and pried the lid off as he answered. The sharp citrus tang hit his tastebuds. A fine-looking orange cake.

  ‘I’ve got a deal going down. George St, near the bus station.’

  ‘Not interested today. Maybe next month.’

  ‘No, you don’t understand. I need this.’ Ryan recognised the voice of one of his old informants who he’d kept in contact with long after that particular operation was over.

  ‘Yeah, sorry, mate, but I’m not in a position to buy.’

  ‘I need to see you.’ The man was sounding desperate. Ryan tuned into the background noise. Someone else was talking.

  ‘That’s not possible.’

  ‘Where are you? No one’s seen you.’

  In that instant Ryan knew what was happening. ‘I’m in WA on business. I’ll be in touch when I get back.’

  ‘Okay. You’ll ring me, right?’

  ‘Yep, sure. The crack over here is crap. I’ll be in need of some good stuff when I get back.’

  ‘Right. Ring me.’

  ‘I’ll do that.’

  He disconnected, feeling sorry for the rentboy. Life was hell when you’d hit the streets at sixteen without protection. Pedro had no future, but Ryan sure as hell didn’t want to read about the man’s death in the papers.

  He called the trace unit and left the details of the second call. Unfortunately, all that was likely to tell them was that Pedro had called and some unnamed scumbag in the background was telling him which questions to ask. All things being equal, they’d rough Pedro up a bit then leave him alone.

  Outside he heard a length of what sounded like iron being pulled free. Hope the kid doesn’t hurt himself, he thought.

  He looked at his other phone, where his mother’s number waited to be used. It was not cowardice that held him back, he tried to console himself; it was self-preservation. She made him slip out of his undercover role quicker than anyone else.

  Right now he felt like he was juggling two personalities and two operations. The sooner they got Nemesis off his back, the sooner he could concentrate on the arson attacks.

  The one saving grace was that an out-of-town bikie was going to stand out like dog’s balls in this neighbourhood. Should he have that discussion with Dan just in case – tell the kid he could only be here if Ryan was home? From the sound of metal scraping over metal, the boy had found something to investigate. The phone rang again before Ryan could make up his mind.

  ‘Marion, sorry about that. I was just about to call you back.’ One more lie wasn’t going to kill him.

  Chapter 12

  THE tyres stopped rumbling as they hit the smooth driveway. Kait could feel the stress of the last six days drain out of her toes.

  She frowned. This time of the afternoon Julia normally played the piano. Long sweeping passages of music would fill the house as her mother’s supple fingers roamed across the keys. Today? Nothing.

  Odd. If Julia wasn’t playing music, she was cooking. But there was no sound and no smell, other than a smoky overtone from the bushfires. Kaitlyn stabbed at the remote control, a frisson of alarm lifting the fine hairs on the nape of her neck. Impatiently, she waited for the door to rise on the garage.

  No car. Julia wasn’t here.

  Kaitlyn felt her skin tighten further, a tiny rash of goosebumps spreading across her arms. ‘Stop it,’ she muttered. ‘You’re being ridiculous.’

  She left her overnight bag in the boot of the car and unlocked the heavy door to the main house, fumbling the keys in her haste.

  ‘Mum? Dan?’ The silence pressed down on Kaitlyn. The rapid tattoo of her heart echoed in her ears. ‘Julia? Dan?’ She dropped her keys on the benchtop and hovered her hand over the stove. No residual warmth.

  ‘Dan?’ She strode through to her son’s bedroom. No school bag discarded on the floor. Nothing in the laundry basket either. Back to the kitchen, this time bumping her thigh on the doorframe as she whirled through.

  With fingers splayed between her breasts she came to a stop in front of the fridge. ‘Damn.’ She pulled the piece of paper free from under the magnet and read the words aloud.

  ‘Kait, had to pick Daniel up from school. The bus broke down. Tried to call, but the phones seem to be down again. Love, Julia.’

  Kaitlyn rocked back on her heels and reached for the counter to steady herself. These panic attacks still struck in the odd, unguarded moment. The sense of impending loss was irrational, but overpowering. Would there ever be a time when she was free of it?

  ‘You’re an overprotective worrier of a mother,’ she muttered. ‘Get your bag out of the car and calm down before they get home.’

  She he
ard a vehicle coming up the road. Curiosity won. She opened the door in time to see a white four-wheel drive trailing a cloud of dust towards Jerry’s place. Ryan’s car. It seemed her good-looking rescuer was indeed renting Jerry’s house. And that shouldn’t have made her smile, but it did.

  She’d managed to haul her bag to her room before she heard the familiar note of Julia’s car. She even resisted the urge to meet them at the door to the garage. That would be a giveaway. Julia would guess she’d worried.

  ‘Mum, Mum, I’m home!’ She heard Dan’s footsteps clattering towards her. ‘And you should have seen the grasshoppers at school today.’

  Kaitlyn breathed in through her mouth, held it for a second, then out through her nose. Her voice was steady. ‘Really?’ she called out. ‘What class were the grasshoppers in? Sports class doing high jumps?’

  ‘Oh, Mum!’ She heard his giggle before he barrelled through the doorway. It eased the knot in her stomach. He launched himself at her, wrapping his arms and legs around her like a clinging koala. She swung him high, loving the feel of him. It wouldn’t be long before he’d be too big for this, she thought, depositing him on his feet. He plonked himself on her bed and picked up her work jacket, tracing the logo with his fingers.

  ‘Science,’ he said. ‘The grasshoppers were in science.’

  ‘Oh?’ She went for mock horror and could tell from his goofy grin he knew he was being teased. ‘You didn’t kill them, did you?’

  ‘No, Miss Kelly did that before class. We just had to name their bits, like wings and legs and mandibles.’ He got the last word out after two attempts, tapping his fingers together as though they were jaws moving. ‘They were so cool. And Jo got into trouble for chasing Wolfie, and …’

  His stories ran into each other, cramming six days into a ten-minute ramble. He trailed behind her as she slipped back into the routine of home.

  ‘How was swimming?’ Kait shoved her work shirts into the washing machine and turned the dial.

  ‘Good.’ He beamed. ‘I’m number two in the relay team.’

  ‘That’s great,’ she gave his arm a gentle tap. ‘Build these up some more.’