Runaway Lies

by Shannon Curtis

  The sun beat down upon her head and shoulders. She wore a dark tank top, the heat radiating through the garment, the sun’s touch on her skin inducing a peaceful languor. The cicadas were buzzing and an occasional cockatoo flew across the fields to rest in the gums bordering the neighbouring paddock. She caught sight of her shadow stretching over the gravel before her, and realised she was protecting her shoulder. She had to consciously swing her recovering arm, trying to match her movements to her uninjured limb. Alannah had cautioned her on that. Protecting the arm had a ripple effect on other muscle groups, and Darcy didn’t want to create further issues with her body. A dislocated shoulder was enough, thank you. As soon as her shoulder mended, she could start doing things she missed yet had taken for granted – tying her hair back, waving, cuddling a child in need of comfort, working, taking back some control of her life…

  She sighed. It felt good to be outside, in the sun, away from every—

  ‘Stop!’ Jonah pounced from behind one of the poplars lining the drive, clutching a water pistol and aiming it at her.

  ‘Whoa, mister,’ she responded, holding up both hands. Her injured shoulder pulled a little, but she still managed to get a range of movement that would make Alannah proud. Jonah hesitated, his face determined and intense, a slight frown marring his brow and wrinkling his freckled nose. He was actually considering it! Sure, it was only a water pistol, but he looked so serious. He wasn’t playing.

  ‘I’m a friend, Jonah,’ she reminded him. He was so angry lately, he seemed to want to fight everyone, all of the time.

  ‘I have lava power in here,’ he told her, his frown darkening.

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘Lava power, huh? That’s…powerful. What do you need lava power for?’

  He looked between her and the pistol, then reluctantly lowered it. ‘I’m protecting us.’

  ‘Protecting us? From what?’ she asked, trying not to smile. Such a resolute lad. He reminded her of her nephew – but she mustn’t think of him, now, or his sister.

  ‘From the bad people.’

  ‘Bad people?’ She squatted down to meet his level. ‘What bad people, Jonah?’

  His gaze shifted to the side, across to the fenced boundary. ‘They’re around. I see them. I’m getting my weapons ready.’

  ‘Can I help?’

  Jonah turned back to her, his blue eyes that were so like his father’s brightening with surprise. ‘You want to help?’

  She nodded, smiling. ‘Sure.’ Maybe this was the kind of play Jonah needed, instead of the silent hours spent drawing inside, snapping at his sister and anyone else who tried to tell him what to do. ‘Where is your armoury?’

  ‘What’s an armoury?’ he asked as he slid his hand into hers. She tried to keep her expression calm. For the last few weeks Jonah had put distance between himself and everyone else, even dodging the goodnight kiss. Now he was holding her hand and pulling her off the drive towards a topiary bush that looked like a bird of prey in flight. It was about halfway between the drive and the closest section of fencing.

  ‘An armoury is a place to store your weapons,’ she told him. The outstretched wings of the bird gave some shade from the summer sun, and she lowered herself to the ground as Jonah settled at the base of the bush.

  ‘Oh. This is it.’ The boy pointed around them. Twigs and broken branches were placed neatly by the tree, and she smiled when she saw the foil-wrapped ends of some of them.

  ‘Those ones have extra power,’ he told her. ‘They shoot lasers that blow you up.’

  ‘Oh. Lovely.’

  ‘And this one,’ he said, lifting up a forked branch, ‘this is my—’ he wrinkled his brow, as though trying to think of a name, ‘my shot blaster. If you get hit with this it will blow you up.’ He grimaced. ‘But it’s not finished yet. I need to get an elastic band for it.’

  She nodded. ‘Oh, so it kind of works like a sling shot, then?’ she asked, eyeing the branch. Actually, if they could find an elastic band long enough, it would make a great sling shot.

  Jonah frowned and shook his head. ‘No, it’s a shot blaster.’

  ‘Oh, sorry. My mistake. Shot blaster.’

  ‘Do you want to play with it?’ Jonah looked at her hopefully.

  She grinned. ‘Sure.’ This was nothing like one of Julia’s tea parties. No wonder they fought so much.

  He smiled. ‘Okay. I’ll be the super-dragon-ninja-alien, and you can be the…’ His voice trailed off.

  ‘The sidekick?’ she suggested. ‘Or the alien-zapper?’

  ‘The princess.’

  She frowned. ‘Princess? You get to be the super-dragon-ninja-alien, and you want me to be a princess? What about Wonder Woman?’

  Jonah scrunched up his nose. ‘Nah. You can be a princess, and I’ll rescue you from the evil monster people.’

  He stood, and Darcy followed his lead, picking up the forked branch. ‘Can I at least be a princess with a shot blaster?’

  Jonah sighed. ‘Okay, but then it’s my turn.’

  ‘Can I rescue you, then?’

  ‘Nah. Princesses don’t rescue. Come on.’

  ‘You know, Wonder Woman was a princess,’ Darcy said as they started to shoot at topiary bushes that looked suspiciously like evil monsters. ‘And she rescued lots of people.’

  Jonah rolled his eyes. ‘Fine, you can be Wonder Woman, then.’ He dodged an imaginary laser beam. ‘But I have the special jetpack superblasters, so I’ll go first. Look out for the lava jetstream!’

  Darcy nodded as she dodged the imaginary lava jetstream, satisfied she was doing her part in cracking a young lad’s chauvinism. ‘Remind me to tell you about Xena, the warrior princess, one day.’ She’d have to make sure Julia was around for that one.

  Kowalski stared down the gun sight of the high-powered rifle he held in his hands. Darcy Montgomery ducked and weaved almost like a pro in her play with the St James boy. She must have learned some good evasive techniques, all those months on the run. She was favouring her arm, though, dodging more right than left. He continued to watch, his breathing slow and easy. He could almost predict her movements. Good. Her weakness would be easy to exploit.

  His finger tightened on the trigger, a coldness descending over him as momentarily the boy jumped up, blocking the Montgomery woman and filling his sights instead. His lips pursed. For a moment, he imagined pulling the trigger, the high velocity bullet slamming through the child’s body and into the woman he played mock-battle with. Two kills, one bullet.

  But he didn’t kill kids. That’s where he drew the line.

  His finger relaxed, and he moved it to the side of the barrel instead. He watched them for a few minutes, occasionally making little pretend puft sounds as he shot his target several times over in his imagination. It would be so damn easy, to pick her off right here, right now. He touched the trigger again. A fraction of a second, and he could go home, job done.

  But then it wouldn’t look like an accident. He sighed and lowered the rifle. He wasn’t sure if that caveat was frustrating or thrilling. He smiled. Darcy Montgomery was proving a challenge though, and he liked that. Appreciated it. Most of his jobs were quick and easy. In. Puft. Out. Done. By the time someone realised something horrific had happened, he was long gone and working on the next job.

  Not Ms Montgomery. She required finesse, subtlety. He loved a chess game, and the Montgomery woman was cautious, well defended, well protected. But he’d get her. He always hit his target.

  He lay down in the long grass, listening. Horses whinnied and birds cooed and whistled. The hot summer breeze that brought no relief rustled through the grasses and leaves of the gums and sheoaks. He could still hear the engine of the car that had left several minutes ago, an intrusion in the natural sounds of the day. He smiled.

  There was his pawn.

  Darcy turned the page of the Dr Seuss book, lowering her voice for a suitably dramatic effect as she read to Julia and Jonah about the Waiting Place, and the slumps one might occasionally f
ind oneself in. Julia sat snuggled in close to her side, clutching her teddy bear against her chest as she listened, her eyes wide as she scanned the colourful pictures on the page.

  Jonah, on the other hand, lay with his head resting on Darcy’s thigh, two action figures caught up in an epic battle in his hands as he listened. She turned the page, her eyebrows rising as she realised they were still in the Waiting Place in the book. She could relate to that, feeling caught, with no direction.

  ‘Daddy!’ Julia squealed, and Darcy stopped reading, glancing up. Dominic leaned against the door jamb, smiling. She blushed. How long had he been watching them for? He bent down and caught Julia as she flung herself off the bed and into his arms. Jonah launched himself as well, and Darcy rose from bed, smiling at the reunion.

  ‘Don’t stop on my account,’ Dominic said, and she realised just how much she’d missed hearing his voice – and she’d only known him for a short time. His children must be desperate for him.

  ‘I need to go help Gertrude,’ she told him, wanting to give father and children time to catch up. They were a family, and she felt like she was intruding.

  She quietly closed the door behind her, shutting the happy reunion away. She blinked. What she wouldn’t give to be able to run up to her own father like Julia had and throw her arms around him – and have him welcome her embrace.

  She sighed. This Waiting Place sucked.

  CHAPTER

  14

  Dom wandered into the living room, iPad in his hand, and flicked his finger over the screen. It was the latest project report from the White Bay development. The architects had amended the drawings as per the latest ‘requests’ from the premier’s department. He sighed. Saturday night, and he was looking at building schematics. He started to lower himself onto the lounge, but the rustle of cloth against leather halted him. Darcy swung her legs down to the floor as she tried to avoid being sat upon.

  ‘Whoa, sorry, didn’t see you there,’ he said, laughing.

  ‘No, I’m sorry,’ she said, guilt on her face as she gestured to her bare feet. He dropped onto the lounge and put his hand on her thigh to prevent her from leaving. Ever since his return, she’d done her level best to fall off his radar. Whenever he entered a room, she left. He saw her briefly at meals, but she was working on a campaign of avoidance, and she was darn good at it. He didn’t know if it was because she was embarrassed by their interlude in the hall, repelled, or both. Either way, he was prepared to enjoy any time with her he could manage.

  ‘No, it’s fine. Stay. I should have looked. You’re out of your sling?’ He gestured to her arm. She’d removed the white cloth, and the strappy top she wore revealed the yellow bruises along her shoulder and upper arm.

  She nodded. ‘Yeah. For a little while, now.’ She straightened against the backrest and shot him an apologetic look. ‘This is your home, Dominic. You should be able to go anywhere without worrying about tripping over a houseguest.’

  He set the iPad down on the end table and twisted to face her. ‘You’re not a houseguest, Darcy. You’re welcome. I want you to feel comfortable here, my home is your home. And please, call me Dom.’ He rested his arm along the back of the lounge. ‘What would you normally be doing at this time of night, if you had your own space?’

  And the back of a van didn’t qualify as ‘space’ in his book.

  She looked at him for a moment, and he was frustrated that he couldn’t read her. What was going on behind those big brown eyes?

  ‘I’d probably be watching TV,’ she admitted.

  He reached for the remote on the end table and handed it to her. ‘Then do it.’

  ‘But you want to work. It’s fine, I’m pretty tired, anyway.’ She made to stand again, and this time he put his hand on her thigh and kept it there.

  ‘Stay,’ he said simply. The muscle under his hand tightened.

  She gazed at him, uncertainty and temptation warring in her eyes. At least he could read that. So she wasn’t repelled. Attracted, maybe? There was definitely something in her gaze, something that arrested his attention, something dark that she tried to keep hidden, but he could just catch a glimpse of it, every now and then, and it gave him hope. Her thigh muscle relaxed.

  She nodded. ‘Okay.’

  He let her go and smiled, and was rewarded with a shy smile in return as she pointed the remote and turned on the TV, turning the volume down low. He settled in next to her, content to sit there and watch something with her, breathe in her natural perfume, just enjoy her company.

  Alfred Hitchcock’s To Catch a Thief was playing, and he heard her sigh next to him. He turned to her, taking in her wistful expression.

  ‘I love this movie,’ she told him. ‘Grace Kelly is so beautiful, and Cary Grant is just so debonair. They make a gorgeous couple.’

  He relaxed against the back of the lounge, and they chatted casually. He was surprised to find she shared his interest in Hitchcock movies, and they tried to outdo each other with trivia about the man, his films and his leading ladies. All the while Dom was conscious of her leg so close to his, her hips sitting so close. Her skin had felt like silk under his hand, and he wanted to reach out and touch her some more. Okay, touch her a lot more. She made no effort to move away, either.

  Darcy wore denim shorts, the ends frayed in a way that suggested these were actually once jeans. They were faded and well-worn. Her tie-dyed pink and blue top flared out, cleverly concealing her figure beneath it. She’d done something to her hair, too. He wasn’t sure what, but the warm colour suited her well, framing her face in soft curls, hiding the nape of her neck. That necklace she always wore, the one with the religious medal, glinted across her chest before disappearing below her neckline.

  And no bra.

  The woman was driving him crazy. She probably didn’t even realise he noticed when she went braless. He swallowed. God, how could he not? His hands clenched. He wanted to reach out to her, stroke her, have her hot and writhing in his arms like she had before – he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. But he didn’t. Instead, he tried to focus on the witty repartee between Kelly and Grant. A comfortable silence fell between them, despite his distraction, and Dom couldn’t remember the last time he’d just sat at home, at peace and enjoying a quiet moment. Hell, when had his life ever been quiet?

  After his family’s murders, there had been such a cacophony, so much attention and rabble. Then, as he’d grown older, he’d enjoyed the attention, knowing that whatever he did would cause a stir. Admittedly he’d done a few things in his younger years just for effect, and was still plagued by that reputation.

  Ava especially enjoying the excitement – they’d been perfect partners in frivolity. Everything had changed, though, when she’d fallen pregnant. He’d been so excited, so beguiled at the prospect of building a family. He’d never understood the attraction of home and hearth, not until he’d held his children in his arms that first time, and the sense of quiet happiness had flooded everything else out. He’d wanted to provide the stable home he vaguely remembered from his own childhood. One thing he did recall was the sense of love and security he’d had being surrounded by the caring attentions of his parents, the adoration of his kid sister, and the loss of it had ached so much.

  Ava, though, had chafed at the restraints pregnancy put on a fun-loving woman: no drinking, restricted partying, even her beloved workouts had to be cut back. She’d struggled when the children arrived, not understanding Dom’s reluctance to leave the babies with the nanny, the refusal to pick up their lifestyle where they’d left off. He’d tried to explain it to her – his hesitancy to leave his children. The last time he’d left his family, it had been permanent. No way was he going to fritter his life away on frivolous pursuits, or waste precious time with his kids that couldn’t be replaced. Life could change in an instant, and he wanted to make every moment with his family count. Ava had grown up with absentee parents – her oil executive father spending months at a time in Asia – but his family ha
dn’t been around for an entirely different reason. If he had a choice, he was going to savour the time he had with his family, and give Jonah and Julia good memories to hold close in their hearts.

  Sitting still, not focusing on the current report, the next project, the next acquisition, brought a humbling peace to Dom’s senses. He’d been working a lot, lately – too much, really. He’d seen the kids sporadically, and even then he’d been distracted. This mess with Ava’s death, the accident – distraction was understandable, even welcomed, but there was something about the woman next to him. Her own inner quiet, her resilience, her gentle reserve, all had a grounding effect on him. Her presence obscured the white noise. When he’d arrived home, she’d been reading to his children in bed. Such a simple thing, but it was so profound, the contentment and relaxation she gave his kids, the peace he saw in their faces as they listened to her. He’d been as enthralled as his kids, listening as she gently read the story. And then his kids had seen him, and she’d looked up – and smiled shyly, as happy as his children at his return.

  He felt like he’d come home.

  He knew from Gertrude the efforts this woman went to make sure his children felt safe, reassured and confident, even loved. Darcy didn’t know it, but she’d wriggled her way into the heart of his family.

  ‘Thank you,’ he whispered, turning to her.

  She turned her attention from the screen, her brow furrowing as she looked at him. ‘What for?’ she asked, her gaze switching from him to the TV and back again.

  ‘For looking after my kids,’ he said.

  Colour bloomed in her face, and she lifted her hand. ‘Oh, that’s—’

  ‘Don’t say it’s nothing. Please.’ He cocked his head. ‘Why do you do that? Why do you shrug off a compliment, or any form of appreciation?’

  She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. They were lightening in colour, turning to a warm honey-gold brown; it must be the time she spent in the sun. ‘I didn’t realise I was doing that.’