He grimaced. ‘Sounds about right.’
‘But instead we catch him, you’re a hero and Toby falls into your arms.’ She swooned… before miming sticking her finger down her throat.
He snorted. ‘I think that boat has not only sailed, but struck an iceberg, caught on fire and everyone on board has been eaten by sharks. I stayed in Sydney after training to keep away from Toby, but I left there to escape the shame of Jared. Perhaps it’s time to go back again.’
‘Echo Springs not big enough for the both of you?’ she said. ‘As much as Toby grates on me, he obviously hits you in all the right places. Have you ever actually tried to have a conversation with him? Or is it all longing looks from across the pub?’
‘He thinks I’m a screw-up.’ It was easier to stare into the distance than look her in the eye.
‘Really? He said that?’
Flashing back through as many of the interactions with Toby he could remember, he admitted that those words had never crossed Toby’s lips. But still, that’s what he thought.
‘He doesn’t need to say it, he just has to…look.’
If those dark glances and open glares didn’t communicate disappointment, then what were they about?
‘Why would he think you’re a screw-up?’
He rearranged himself in his seat; the belt cut across him too tight. ‘Apart from arresting him? Jared.’
‘Did Toby know him?’
‘No, but the whole town knows why I came back. And there’s nothing Toby values more than professionalism and integrity—which I blew.’
‘Sounds like you got a bit of your own back when you charged him with arson.’
‘Uh, we charged him with arson.’ No way was he alone in the blame. ‘You practically salivated at the thought.’
‘I bet you liked the idea of him in handcuffs too,’ she purred. ‘Look, when this is over and you’ve saved the day, I’m sure he’s going to have questions. Maybe it’s time to suck it up and face this once and for all.’
His thumb thudded against the top of the steering wheel. Hadn’t he already tried to talk to Toby? ‘It’s a two-way street. Toby hasn’t exactly wanted to spend time around me.’
Even if he did kiss me back this morning.
Right before he’d thrown him in jail.
‘But he admitted to me this morning that he’s done something terrible.’
‘Really? And it’s not the fire?’
He shook his head.
‘Then what is it?’
The highway veered west through dry country with not a cloud to shield them from the relentless sun.
‘I’ve got no idea.’
***
The local cops phoned when Ben and Leila were less than an hour away from Newmont; they couldn’t find Jared and he hadn’t shown up for a meeting with his parole officer. An arrest warrant had been issued and they were searching for him. With Jared having relocated close to Echo Springs and with his whereabouts unknown, Ben knew they had found the culprit. Leila called Echo Springs and told them to be on the lookout—especially around Toby. Jared’s mother hadn’t seen him but Ben still wanted to meet with her.
Jared’s mother’s house sat behind a low hedge surrounded by well-cared-for grass. Rose bushes grew in her garden beds, and the trunks of four evenly spaced palm trees blocked the view from the two windows at the front. Cream wooden slats ran around the box home, and the corrugated roof had stained a burnt umber. Patches of green paint peeled off the eaves jutting over the windows and the brown door.
It was much as he remembered.
He and Jared had visited once in their relationship, doing a tour of their hometowns. That they had grown up near to each other had seemed like fate. But his dad hadn’t approved when he brought Jared around. Bill Fields, ex-cop, had one of his typical gut reactions and after the visit he didn’t mention Jared again.
Once Jared was out of his life, things had resolved between Ben and his dad. One good thing among many. Jared was in his past. No contact. No looking back. And with any luck he’d never have seen him again.
A bitter taste scraped the back of his tongue as he knocked on the door.
Val Fairfax opened the door. She had always been a small woman, but she’d gotten thinner since the last time he saw her. An inch of grey showed at the roots of her auburn hair. Weary hazel eyes took in his uniform before rising to his face; recognition flashed and the set of her mouth changed from slack resignation to a hint of relief before it fell. She stood aside to let them in.
No resistance.
His heart ached for her.
She herded them into the sitting room and plonked herself down in a scuffed soft leather couch, gesturing that they could sit in the armchairs. Her gaze fixed on him once introductions were out of the way.
‘I’ve already told the others I haven’t seen him since last night. I have no idea where he’s gone.’
‘We know,’ he replied. ‘How has he been since he got out?’
She broke the look and smoothed her hand back and forth over her throat. ‘I barely talk to him. He lives here but…but I find excuses to stay away from him. I guess that makes me a bad person.’
‘You’ve given him a place to stay, probably when no one else would,’ Leila said. ‘You’ve done more for him than anyone else, considering the situation.’
‘I try.’ She picked at a hole in the arm of the chair, ripping off a bit of leather before letting it drop and brushing it off. ‘I tried. And when he was with you, Ben, I thought finally he’d come good. It wasn’t until later I learned he was still up to his old tricks and I worried…’ She sighed. ‘I worried he was going to take you down with him.’
Everyone had seen Jared for what he was. Everyone except Ben. He’d been so desperate to replace Toby that he had been willing to accept anyone, no matter what.
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ he said. ‘He was good at hiding things. Have the police searched his room?’
She nodded. ‘But you can look too. They said he’s been lighting fires. I was surprised because I’ve never known him to do that. Lighting joints, sure, but burning down the bush, setting people’s homes alight…I guess I don’t know him at all.’
She led them down the hall to Jared’s room. One curtain had been pulled back to reveal an unmade bed with clothes littering the floor. Jared’s childhood room had been neater the last time he’d seen it. Ben couldn’t tell what was the result of Jared’s general untidiness and what the police had overturned. From experience, however, much of this would have been Jared’s doing. It had been their biggest source of conflict: Jared’s messiness.
That was, until there were more important things to fight about.
‘He spends most of his time driving,’ Val said. ‘He’d check in with the parole officer and then disappear for hours. I didn’t ask where. I was glad he was gone. I wish I’d made more of an effort.’
‘He had everything he could have hoped for and he threw it away,’ Leila said. ‘Wouldn’t you say, Ben?’ Leila might have been trying to comfort Val, but her words rang inside Ben’s head, sounding through his emptiness.
‘You did your best,’ he said.
If only he could believe that of himself.
Val wiped her eyes and walked away. Leila went with her. Ben slipped on protective gloves and searched the room. It smelled of Jared, a rich, sharp, citrus scent that knocked him back to the moment they’d met at a bar.
His head had turned at his cologne and he’d gasped as he’d looked into Jared’s eyes. Jared had been close enough and the hungriness in his gaze had been a turn-on. Plenty of guys had shown their interest, and he’d gone home with his fair share of them, but Jared’s bravado and determination had won him over that first night.
He’d gone willingly and Jared had devoured him. Consumed him to the point where he sat in the belly of darkness, unable to get out, to face the truth about who he’d become involved with. He hadn’t cared how fast he’d fallen or for much else about Jared, seeing in him the
fulfilment of a fantasy.
He’d tricked himself into believing it was love, and brushed aside the concerns that niggled at him. Late-night phone calls, Jared’s resistance to introducing him to his friends, and the endless last-minute cancellations. He’d only agreed to move in together after Ben gave him an ultimatum. He’d worried Jared was having an affair; ultimately that’s how he’d discovered Jared’s real line of work—tailing him late at night only to see him meet known offenders instead of a hookup. A relationship built on deception, and Ben had been complicit. He’d fallen so hard that it had taken him an age to climb out and see the desolation surrounding Jared.
And here he was standing ankle deep in it again.
He sorted through the clothes on the floor, throwing them on the bed after he picked them up and sniffed them for fuel. The first few pieces were all about the citrus, but a pair of shorts and then a black t-shirt gave off a whiff of fuel.
He bagged them and left them at the door.
He didn’t find a phone or anything else that could provide a clue. Whatever Jared was up to, he’d have knowledge of it with him. If they found his car, they would find him and they’d find the evidence. There was nothing else to do here.
He picked up the bags and cast a final look over the room. So ordinary. The messy room of someone he had loved, a son who a mother loved, yet Jared had used their love as the best cover.
Did he love me?
It didn’t matter, not now, and perhaps not even then. It had been temporary. He’d given plenty to Jared in the hope of having him return his love, but he’d known it wasn’t meant to be.
All along he’d wanted Toby.
And now he’d put Toby in danger.
Chapter Twelve
Toby couldn’t stay at the station house. There were no emergencies, not even a cat to rescue from up a tree. And while he sat there, someone was out there stalking him and stealing his life from under him. His legs jittered while he fumed over how little he could do, until eventually he had to get out. He returned to make a start on the ruins of his home now the police were finished with the scene.
As the sun sailed across the sky, Toby lost himself in the gradual sorting out and discarding of his family home. The neighbours, a few off-duty firefighters and people who had barely said two words to him his whole life all helped. They left the personal stuff to him, but everything that could be saved was stacked elsewhere or packed into plastic tubs. The rest of it—the fallen-down roof, the stripped walls and burnt-out kitchen, a bathroom that would never be resurrected—they tore down and carted to the front lawn ready to be lobbed into skip bins.
People talked and shared the work. Every now and then they came to ask for his permission to do something but otherwise they got on with it. A lump hardened in his throat at those times; he was surprised at how much he craved their kindness.
He’d starved himself for so long, believing it would be better and safer for everyone if he stuck to his job and nothing else. He had destroyed lives when he was younger. He hadn’t wanted to do it again.
Looks like he’d failed anyway and now someone wanted him dead.
And Ben knew who it was.
By the end of the day, the home had emptied. His uncle came by with the car to take the things of value back to their house, and neighbours stored the few surviving bigger items in their backyard. Only the shell remained, ready for demolition. Desolate as it was, ghosts still haunted its ruins.
‘Do you want a lift to the station?’ his uncle asked, wrenching Toby out of his dark musings.
‘Nah, I’ll walk.’
‘You sure it’s safe?’
‘I’ll be fine,’ he said.
His uncle opened his mouth to say something else, but Toby held up his hand. ‘And yes, it’s safer if I don’t stay with you guys.’
‘I hope you know what you’re doing, Toby.’ He clapped him on the shoulder. ‘We’d never get over it if anything happened to you.’
That’s because you don’t know the truth.
‘You’ve got nothing to worry about.’
He slipped out of his uncle’s protective grip and walked away before he tried to change his mind. But when he arrived outside the station house with its pale bricks and large garage doors, he couldn’t go in.
The lights were on, people were inside and there’d be work to do, or he could train in the gym, then grab some food, take a shower, immerse himself in that side of his life and hide the shame and the guilt. But he wasn’t ready to go back to that yet.
If ever.
He retreated, heading south through Echo Springs’s streets as the calm of dusk descended. He watched for anyone watching him, but his concentration drifted. His thoughts dwelled on the events of the night before and on how much he’d have gone to his grave not saying.
And how much Ben wouldn’t know.
He navigated to Ben’s house and knocked on the door before he could stop himself. He screwed his feet to the ground. Ben had to know how his mother had died.
Footsteps thudded on the wooden floor on the other side of the door, which opened to reveal Ben wearing a pair of long gym shorts and a tank top. The clothes—or lack thereof—exposed his muscles, especially his arms and chest. A light covering of hair crested the top of his shirt. Toby forced his eyes up, despite wanting to indulge himself a little longer. It’d been a long time since he’d seen even this much of Ben’s body, and back then he hadn’t been this built. But Toby was here for a reason and it wasn’t to salivate over Ben’s biceps. He licked his lips and swallowed.
‘Toby,’ Ben said. ‘Ahhh… how are you?’ He smiled and his dimple deepened. Its appearance pinged Toby’s heart. Perhaps it would be better to focus on his chest after all.
He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Can I come in?’
Ben stepped aside and Toby brushed past him, aware of the heat coming off him. The wounded dog inside himself wanted more than consolation, it wanted fierceness, strength. He cleared his throat and walked into the family room, but couldn’t decide whether to sit or stand for this. He hovered, waiting to follow Ben’s lead.
‘Wanna beer?’ Ben asked.
Within seconds a cold bottle of courage appeared before him and he took a swig. The bubbles flushed his throat. He took another long drink.
‘Long day?’ Ben said, nodding to the bottle and sitting down on the couch. He perched on the edge with his hands clasped around the neck of his untasted beer.
‘Cleared the house today.’ Toby sat in the armchair to Ben’s right.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘That must have been tough.’
He rolled the bottle between his palms, the cool glass soothing his raw skin. ‘It was necessary. Actually it felt good.’ He drank again. He’d need another at this rate. ‘It’s one way of clearing out the clutter.’
‘Still, I’m sorry it was done the way it was. You could have asked me for a hand with the spring-cleaning. I’m pretty good with a feather duster.’ He laughed but it came out stilted. Had Ben always been this uneasy around him? ‘I suppose you’re here for an explanation.’
Toby blanked, taking a second to figure out what Ben was talking about. He’d been so focused on what he’d wanted to say that he’d forgotten about the arsonist.
‘Did you find who did this?’
Ben took a drink and Toby recognised that slow swig and strain in his neck which had nothing to do with swallowing a mouthful of beer. Ben placed the bottle on the table and twisted it by its neck, pouring his focus into the inanimate object.
‘Ben? Who did this?’
He locked his fingers together and popped his knuckles. ‘There’s no easy way to say this. His name is Jared Fairfax and he—’
Nails gouged into Toby’s chest. Adrenaline rushed to fill the wounds.
‘Your ex!?’ He slammed the bottle on the table and jerked to his feet. ‘What the fuck?’ He gripped the back of the armchair. Ben’s ex—that lying, cheating son of a bitch—had tried to kill him.
<
br /> He’d seen the worthless prick when Ben had brought him to town and had disliked the guy without ever having been introduced. It wasn’t until later he’d learned his feelings were justified.
Ben gulped down more beer.
Toby’s skin buzzed. He held tight to the chair to keep grounded. ‘So that sack of shit is the one doing this?’
‘He’s on parole and has been staying at his mother’s over in Newmont,’ he said in a flat tone. ‘He’s out to get me back for what I did to him.’
‘Then why didn’t he burn down your house? Why go for mine?’
Ben tapped his thumb against the neck of the empty bottle.
Why would Jared know anything about him? Why would Jared use him to get at Ben?
You know this is your own fault, don’t you?
If he’d cleared this up years ago, then Ben could have moved on and not dated this psycho. He would have hated Toby, but then he wouldn’t have gone for his doppelgänger.
Yeah, he’d seen the resemblance. That’s why he hated Jared so much.
The bastard had stolen his place.
‘You want another?’ Ben asked, getting up and heading for the kitchen.
‘Ben?’ He followed. ‘Why is Jared coming after me?’
He opened the fridge but instead of reaching for another beer, he stared inside as if the broccoli and the apples could give him the answers.
The waiting squeezed Toby’s ribs until they ached. But he had to hold back and let Ben do this in his own time.
Man, it killed him.
Ben closed the fridge and faced him. ‘Because of what you meant to me.’
The breath shuddered to a halt in his throat.
Had he heard that right?
Past tense.
‘Meant?’ The word scraped from his tongue.
Ben ignored his question, reopened the fridge, grabbed another beer and walked away.
‘What did you tell Jared about us?’ he asked to Ben’s retreating back.
‘He knew there wasn’t an us, but he knew what you meant to me and what happened.’
But Ben didn’t know everything—like why Toby had ended it.
Embers and Echoes Page 9
