Burning Lies

by Helene Young

  Too often she felt his eyes on her face as she laughed with her son. She didn’t dare meet his gaze, in case he saw some of the hunger, the need in them. Her reflection in the long windows reminded her she was no longer a starstruck teenager.

  She cleared the plates and stacked the dishwasher, the laughter from the dining room soothing her, reassuring her she’d built a good life here for her family. Safe. Her son had grown up laughing. She had learnt to smile again, joke. Maybe she would cook again. Maybe even find joy in music again.

  For a moment she rested with her hands on the edge of the sink. She had no need for someone else in that mix, and yet … A fleeting moment on the side of a dark road had tempted her, given her a glimpse of comfort she had no right to crave.

  ‘Can I help?’ She hadn’t heard him come in behind her and almost jumped, knowing she couldn’t turn around just yet; her face would be too open.

  ‘No, all good. Guests don’t do the dishes in this house.’

  ‘Then think of me as a freeloading neighbour. Bet you let Jerry do the dishes.’ He came and stood beside her. There was laughter in the lines around his eyes and the soft curve of his mouth. He was teasing.

  ‘Jerry was different.’ She couldn’t stop the sadness in her words.

  ‘Okay, so he had a few years on me.’ He turned as he spoke and leant against the sink. They were almost hip to hip, facing each other, but side by side. His heat bridged the tiny gap and warmed her arm. She couldn’t stop the ripple of awareness, of want. The answering flare in his eyes made her nipples pebble against the soft fabric of her dress and she knew she had to step away.

  Before she could move, he snagged a wayward curl with his finger and tucked it behind her ear. His touch skimmed down her neck and onto her shoulder.

  ‘Kait …’ he began, but she pulled back. It would be too easy to be seduced, bewitched, beguiled. Too hard to step back later.

  She met his eyes, shook her head, tried to break the spell. ‘No.’

  ‘No? Or not tonight?’

  ‘No. Not ever.’

  His smile was unrepentant. ‘I’m persuasive.’

  ‘I’m sure you are. That’s not the point.’

  ‘There’s someone else?’

  ‘No. There doesn’t need to be.’

  ‘You’re scared.’

  ‘Scarred.’

  ‘Same difference. We both are.’

  ‘So let’s leave it at that. No more scars for me.’

  ‘You’re a beautiful woman. There’s no need to be alone.’

  ‘I’m not. I have Dan and Julia. And Nero now,’ she added, trying to take the situation in hand.

  ‘Nothing wrong with a bit of baggage.’

  ‘Don’t think Julia’s ever been called baggage before,’ she retorted, feeling more in control.

  ‘You know what I mean. And being glib won’t deflect me.’

  ‘It will, you know.’ The chocolate cake she lifted from the fridge was a work of art. ‘And if it doesn’t, then this will.’

  ‘No candles?’

  ‘Nope, that would be giving away my age.’

  ‘A woman in her prime.’

  ‘Ha, there’s that flattery again.’

  He looked at her with his head tilted to one side. Did she detect regret, or was it just the look of a man who’d missed his chance for a night of sex? It unsettled her that she couldn’t read him. He seemed so self-assured. Wounded, yes, but confident, comfortable in his skin. When he’d stopped to change her tyre he’d looked so much younger than he seemed tonight.

  ‘You’ve got your hands full.’

  When he placed his lips over hers she almost dropped the cake. The pressure was light, a gentle tug on her lips, the barest slide of his tongue. She didn’t, couldn’t, stop the tremble of her mouth and the wild race of her heart. He pressed a harder kiss to her temple and stepped back. She was lost.

  ‘And don’t you dare tell me there’s no chemistry, Kaitlyn Scott.’ He took the plate from her hands, the glint in his eyes roguish, disturbingly attractive. ‘Let me. You might drop it.’

  ‘As if.’ She thrust her nose in the air and stalked back to the dining room, his gentle laugh making her blush.

  Julia’s bright eyes were almost too much and Kait’s temper raised its head. Matchmaking was Julia’s forte and she’d been set up tonight. But …

  ‘And the ice-cream, dear.’

  ‘Right.’ Kait fled back to the kitchen, hearing Dan describe in great detail the gooey centre in the evening’s cake.

  The sound of Dan laughing as Ryan teased him dampened her anger. She knew it was misguided, misplaced. It was herself she was annoyed at.

  And Ryan?

  He was right. She was scared, too scared to try again. Too afraid of failing Julia and Dan, too certain she couldn’t navigate a relationship without rocking her steady world. Too damaged to trust again.

  A phone rang as Kait returned with the ice-cream. Ryan’s head snapped up. ‘Excuse me.’ He fished the phone out of his jacket pocket. She heard him answer it.

  He walked away, fumbling with the catch on the door that led to the wide veranda. If he spoke it was so softly she couldn’t hear his words. Who rang someone at ten o’clock at night? Was it the RFB? Did he not have a pager? She glanced across at hers, which was lying on the sideboard next to her keys. It was silent.

  She didn’t want to start drawing lines between dots, but this was a man who carried a weapon, took phone calls late at night and left a trail so small on the internet as to be virtually invisible. She shut that line of thinking down. Not now.

  ‘Mum?’

  ‘Sorry, Dan. What was that?’

  ‘Ice-cream?’

  ‘Sure.’ She still had the scoop in her hand. ‘One or two?’

  ‘Two?’

  ‘Two it is, then.’

  Dan had finished his dessert by the time Ryan came back through the door. Forced smile, Kait decided.

  ‘Sorry about that. A colleague coming off a nightshift in Sydney thought he’d call.’ He dropped the phone back in the pocket of his jacket. ‘This looks great, Julia. Finished already, Dan?’

  He was good at redirecting, Kait thought, putting her own smile in place. Lies, all lies. It didn’t matter how attractive he might be; she didn’t really know this man and she sensed depths that took him to dark places. He was not what he seemed, not who he claimed to be. He was living a lie and she didn’t know why.

  Yet.

  ‘Time for Dan to go to bed.’

  ‘Muuum,’ Dan complained.

  ‘Daniel.’

  He grinned. ‘See? Just like that, she says it. All right, I’m going, I’m going. Can Nero sleep with me?’

  ‘That would be no.’

  ‘Aw, Mum.’

  Kait raised an eyebrow at him, knowing he would still find a way to smuggle in the puppy.

  ‘All right, all right.’ He held out his hand to Ryan. ‘Night, Ryan. See you on the weekend?’ He kissed Julia on the cheek. ‘Night, Nana.’ Then he sidled up to Kait. ‘Night, Mum.’ His hug was fierce and Kait returned it. When she opened her eyes, Ryan was watching her, his expression shuttered.

  ‘But we haven’t sung “Happy Birthday”.’ Julia seemed to realise the party was breaking up. ‘Come on, before Dan goes to bed.’

  Kait could do nothing but endure a full rendition, complete with Julia on the grand piano. Only then did Julia escort Dan to bed, leaving Kait to see Ryan out.

  He gathered his jacket. ‘Thanks for tonight. It was lovely. Great food, good wine, and wonderful company. Bonus having two good-looking ladies.’

  His charm was back in place, a grin with the slight raise of an eyebrow that made him look sexy as hell. Chameleon.

  ‘Hey, I brought Jerry’s journals. They’re in the car. Come out and grab them?’

  ‘Must I?’

  ‘Yeah, I think you must.’ He led the way to his car and the light from the interior sent a glow of warmth over his skin as he reached across to the
passenger seat.

  ‘I’m sure you’ll find them interesting. Jerry was quite a troubled man. You guys helped him find himself, find some peace.’

  ‘Really?’ Kait was perplexed. ‘Apart from being vilified for being gay I didn’t sense he was troubled.’

  ‘Perhaps if you’ve hidden something so deep for so long, you can fool even the experts.’ He looked like he wanted to say more, then changed his mind.

  ‘Take care.’ His hand skimmed her hair, cupped her chin. He pressed a kiss against her lips that felt urgent and fleeting and desperate all at once. She lifted on her toes, feather-light, unbearably touched by his need. Then the door slammed and the engine purred into life. He was gone, leaving her standing in her darkened front yard, heart hammering, body alive and tingling.

  ‘Who are you, Ryan?’

  Chapter 31

  HE took his foot off the accelerator as he rounded the last bend. He’d driven like a maniac since he turned out of the Scotts’ driveway. ‘Fuck it,’ he swore, pounding the steering wheel. ‘Fuck it to hell.’

  It had been the sort of evening where a man could lose his head, lose his heart. Yes, he’d set out to seduce the delectable Kaitlyn Scott, but the vulnerability, the softness underneath that motherly front of steel was almost his undoing. She looked so damn sexy in that wraparound dress that clung to her curves, moulded to her breasts and made him ache with want. She was the whole damn package. Brains, humour, looks and a fierce protector of her own.

  It was exactly how Jerry had described her in his journals. Ryan hadn’t set out to learn about his neighbours through Jerry’s writing. Neither had he set out to find the heart of his own pain. But those diaries, spanning a lifetime of change, of challenges, were like how-to manuals for an undercover cop.

  Jerry spoke of his dislocation, his inability to fit into the real world again. What was the truth? Was there a truth? Was there a way back?

  Did Ryan want Kait to read them for Jerry, or for himself? Tonight, he let himself believe in a future. He let himself dream of waking up next to a woman, instead of sneaking out like a thief in the night. He’d let himself be seduced by the warmth and affection between the Scotts, treasuring it as if it were the most precious thing on earth.

  And then his phone had rung.

  Nemesis.

  It had shattered the pretence, destroyed the mood, and underscored what a sham of a life he lived. It was more of the same: harassment, abuse, threats. He didn’t expect a trace on this call either.

  As he reached his front gate the headlights reflected off something shiny in the grass near the verge. He braked to a halt and left the engine running, the lights on high beam. Broken glass? He picked up a couple of pieces. Looked like glass from a car, maybe a windscreen. Where had that come from?

  Was he just being paranoid again? He had his gun in his hand as he moved out of the beam of light. A lick of wind blew in from the east and lifted his collar. The stars flickered behind fast-moving clouds. Weather front approaching.

  The sensor lights he’d rigged up came on as he stood, and he couldn’t stop himself tensing. He’d need daylight to see anything much. It was going to be a long night.

  He went inside and turned on his computer. As he waited for it to come online, he checked the doors and windows. In an operation like this he would normally have more support on the ground, but the nature of this one meant it wasn’t possible. He blamed that for this compulsion, this insane need, to connect with his neighbours, even while he knew it was imperative to keep some distance. They made a good cover story, but they could also end up in harm’s way and that was not what he wanted. Not at all. Now, even less so.

  He slumped in the chair and scrolled through his emails. Two from Crusoe.

  Possible sighting yesterday at a petrol station in Sarina, down near Mackay. Surveillance footage attached. Looks like Weasel to me and the software says the same. Headed north in a phalanx of colours.

  Ryan knew there were still extensive crops of cannabis under cultivation up in North Queensland. Some of them were the high-yield hybrid crops that brought in up to 70 per cent more than the older plants. Big bucks to a club needing funds to pay lawyers. Weasel could just be checking on the vegie garden.

  Ryan ran the footage. Even with a helmet and scarf muffling his appearance, it was definitely Weasel. He sat on the bike, legs thrust forward, chin jutting, hand in position on the throttle. And he had five boys in tow.

  ‘Crazy stuff,’ Ryan said out loud. If they were coming for him then they were planning on going down in a blaze of glory. There was nothing stealthy about this approach.

  He watched the lights go out one by one across the escarpment. The Scotts were off to bed. Unbidden, his fingers touched his lips. She’d tasted of wine and woman, smelt of musk and cinnamon, her skin soft and smooth. The smattering of freckles, only visible when you were up so close, added a girlish charm.

  He felt his body tighten. For a split second he wanted to weep – weep for the young man who had kissed so innocently for the first time at fifteen and fucked so indiscriminately at thirty-five. If he had his time again, would he retrace the path he’d chosen?

  At this very instant, at this moment, he saw the answer so clearly. He’d throw it all away in a heartbeat if he could claim just a tiny portion of the love he’d been surrounded by tonight.

  And that would get him killed, so he had to forget it. Forget it, Ryan. He was what he was: a lying, ruthless bastard who always ended up walking away.

  He turned back to his screen. Sleep wasn’t going to happen tonight. The least he could do was look for more answers.

  An interesting snippet on Grant McCormack made Ryan sit up. Seemed McCormack was holed up at Yungaburra with a hire car in need of repairs for bullet holes, including a smashed left-hand window. Ryan gazed into space as he contemplated that. A falling out of thieves? Could it be a coincidence that he had broken glass on his front boundary?

  He got to his feet and stood on one side of the front window, looking out over the dark yard. After the place had been trashed he’d debated changing the locks, but decided against it. Maybe he should do that tomorrow. Make it a priority. And rig up a remote camera for inside.

  The distance from the front of the house to the boundary would be an easy shot for a handgun. Had someone been in here when he wasn’t home? It all seemed implausible, but then, this wasn’t the simple case he’d expected it to be.

  If the glass was from McCormack’s car, what the hell was the man doing out here? And who the hell had been shooting at him? Had McCormack’s tame arsonist bitten back? Ryan didn’t have the answer yet, but he’d have a look around the front yard tomorrow in the daylight.

  He sat back down and opened the second email. It was a series of photographs, identikit specials that aged the original photo of John Derek Barton and gave him different hairstyles and facial hair. There were over twenty of them and Ryan scrolled through slowly, searching for anything that looked familiar.

  Number fourteen. He kept coming back to it, apprehension stiffening his neck, raising his shoulderblades.

  It was possible. Longer hair brushed back, a slim moustache, fuller in the face. He enlarged the picture and put his hand over the face’s forehead as though it were the visor of a cap.

  Bingo.

  Chapter 32

  THE beeper was almost on the floor by the time it roused Kait from sleep. She knocked it off her bedside table completely, trying to silence it.

  ‘Damn,’ she muttered. It felt like she’d had two hours’ sleep. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and peered at the clock, pushing her hair out of her face. Well, look at that, she’d slept for exactly one hour and forty-five minutes. Right now, she’d give anything to roll over and pull the sheet back up, but that wasn’t possible.

  She dialled. Outside, the wind buffeted the house. Storm, or a change of weather?

  ‘Hi, it’s Kaitlyn. What do you need?’

  ‘A fire’s flared up with th
e wind. It’s threatening homes out the eastern side of Mareeba. The pump on one of their trucks has packed it in so they need both of our trucks.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll be there. At the depot?’

  ‘No, we’ve rung Brad Ryan too. He said he’d pick you up, if that’s okay.’

  ‘Sure.’ She clipped the word. Ryan again.

  Jerry’s diary had kept her awake for several hours. As Ryan had predicted, it was fascinating, though perhaps not in the way he’d expected. It had sent her back to the internet and she was now quietly confident that Ryan was a federal policeman – real name Ryan O’Donnell – who happened to be Jerry’s great-nephew. Kait’s friend in the AFP was on night shift and at his computer when she’d emailed him. The answers he’d supplied had raised more questions, but it was a start.

  She grabbed her overalls from behind the door. Her boots were out the front. By the time she’d cleaned her teeth and emerged from the bedroom, Julia, always a light sleeper, had Kait’s camel pack ready to go, along with an esky bag and thermos. Nero was snuffling at her feet.

  ‘Thanks, Mum. Sorry about waking you. Hopefully we’ll be finished before lunch. Dan will be so disappointed if I’m not back for the Ravenshoe Railway trip.’

  Julia shook her head dismissively. ‘We’ll still go. I’d hate for him to miss it, and his friends are all going. Just let me know before twelve. We’ll need to leave by then.’

  ‘I’ll call if I can make it. That might be safer in case the phones go out. I’ll be here if I can.’ Kait went to the front door.

  ‘You’re not driving?’

  ‘No, apparently Ryan is.’

  ‘Oh, right.’

  ‘Don’t go there, Mum.’

  ‘Yes, dear.’

  Kaitlyn rolled her eyes as she bent and kissed Julia’s cheek. ‘You are incorrigible.’

  ‘I prefer to call it optimistic. Be safe.’ The strength of Julia’s hug belied the birdlike slimness of her arms. She pushed Kait towards the door. ‘Say hi for me.’

  ‘Oh, really, it’s been all of five hours since you saw him.’ Kait flounced out the door. A time like this and still Julia schemed?