This, though, looked post-apocalyptic. Something moved to his right, drawing his eye. Jacinta Buchanan sat on her dusty yellow trail bike, looking at him, her gaze hidden by the shade of her Akubra and her sunglasses. He hadn’t noticed her in the gloom as he’d pulled up.
He strode over to her, and she slung her leg over the back of the bike to stand and face him. Good. He’d intended to swing by the main house after he’d had a look here in order to interview her. She was saving him a trip. He eyed her from behind his sunglasses. In so many ways she was so familiar—same ponytail, same taunting lift to her chin, and yet she somehow seemed so different to the annoying tomboy who’d followed him and her brother around the bush. His gaze drifted over her. She’d always been tall. Gawky. Like a colt still growing into its legs. Well, she’d definitely grown into those legs.
His lips firmed. She was Jamie’s sister, and now a person of interest in the case of three suspicious deaths on her family’s property. Noticing the line of her legs, or how the denim of her jeans cupped her tight butt, or even how the indent of her waist seemed to enhance the slight curves of her breasts and hips would only get him into trouble he didn’t want.
‘Aren’t you supposed to be in hospital?’ He’d gone to interview her the night before, only she hadn’t been in her bed on the ward. He could see the white of a bandage peeking out from beneath the band of her hat.
‘I checked myself out,’ she said, her voice low and husky. Her mouth was turned down at the corners, and there were grooves around it. Her face looked pale beneath her tan, her brown hair tied back in a loose ponytail at the base of her neck, with tendrils escaping. Truthfully, she looked like she’d just rolled out of bed and tied it back as an afterthought. He frowned. She also looked tired, and in pain.
‘Do you think that was wise?’
Her mouth tightened. ‘I needed to be here.’
To cover up her tracks? To see what damage she and her cronies had done? ‘Why?’ He’d learned the best way to get the answer was to ask the difficult questions—no matter how much he didn’t want to know. And in a small town, where everyone knew everyone else, there were plenty he didn’t want to know. Mac didn’t want to slip handcuffs on friends or family, or drag them down to the lock-up. But that was part of being a country cop in the town you grew up in. You inevitably arrested someone you liked, knew or respected.
Jac blanched at his question, and her brows drew down. ‘Did you hear that Bra—Brayden was in there?’
He didn’t miss that rough catch in her voice, as though she was talking through a virus. ‘I heard.’ He waited. He noticed she didn’t mention the two other guys who’d been found.
She turned to look at the dip in the ground, and he saw the tear roll down her cheek before she brushed it away. ‘God, it was so horrible.’
He looked briefly at the dent in the ground. ‘What happened?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I was over at the dam, fixing a pipe, and heard this explosion…’
She covered her mouth, as though trying to hold back a sob. ‘God, he was so young,’ she wailed softly.
Brayden’s body had been recovered, along with two other bodies, both adult males. One of these was the driver of the white Audi who’d since been tentatively identified as Brett Pearce, although DNA confirmation was still pending—but that took months. The fire, though, was a different matter entirely. It looked like a rudimentary drug lab had been set up down there.
On Buchanan land.
He stared down at the Buchanan in front of him. Most of the older folk in town knew about the defunct mines of Bulls’ Run, but these days not many of the Echo Springs community would remember exactly where they were, they’d been unused for so long. He knew, but he’d been a regular visitor out to Bulls’ Run before Jamie had left, and had caught hell plenty of times from old Tom Buchanan for playing out near the mines.
The Terrances, too, had been regular visitors. He knew them well. All those boys were bad news, and now the youngest, Brayden, was dead.
‘What was Brayden doing here, Jac?’ Mac tried to keep his voice calm, casual, burying his anger and disappointment beneath the facade of professional courtesy. Jac shrugged, shaking her head. ‘I have no idea,’ she answered.
He turned to look at the plughole in the ground, hiding his disappointment from her. She was covering up for the Terrances, damn it. Hadn’t he and Jamie told her enough times to steer clear of that family of juvenile delinquents? Only they weren’t kids anymore, and the trouble that followed the Terrances was no longer juvenile, but very adult and very dangerous.
‘Come on, Jac. You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?’
‘What?’ she asked, her forehead dipping between her brows.
‘Three people died on your land, Jac. You expect me to believe you know nothing about it?’
‘Yes,’ she exclaimed, then startled. ‘Did you say three?’ She removed her sunglasses to stare at him. Mac watched her closely. Her shock seemed genuine.
‘Oh, you didn’t know?’ He knew she hadn’t been informed about the other bodies, so he was interested in her reaction. The charred corpses had been removed from the scene while she was still in hospital. ‘Brett Pearce was found inside Dick as well.’
‘Who’s Brett Pearce?’ she asked, surprised horror creeping over her face. She tilted her hat up, revealing more of the bandage that was wrapped around her head. ‘What were they doing here?’ Her tone conveyed the same frustrated curiosity he felt.
Unfortunately he’d learned in this job never to take anything at face value. He pursed his lips. The firies had discovered the remains of a secret meth lab, but the Sarge had decided to withhold that information for the time being. ‘We don’t know,’ he lied. ‘Do you?’
Jac shook her head again, wincing as though the movement hurt. Damn it, she should have stayed in the hospital at least another day. He knew, though, that once Jac made up her mind, a nuclear blast couldn’t shift her.
‘No. I didn’t even know Brayden was out here. I haven’t seen him in months
‘Does Brayden usually come out here?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘He hasn’t come by the house, not for ages.’ Her expression darkened. ‘Dad made it pretty clear he didn’t want him or his brother visiting anymore.’
Mac nodded. Tom Buchanan was a grumpy old bastard. He could just imagine how that conversation must have gone. For once he and the old man held a similar viewpoint. The Terrance brothers were a bad influence, and Jac shouldn’t have any involvement with them.
‘What about his brother, Hayden? Aren’t you two close?’ He had to force the words out of his mouth. Jamie would be spitting nails if he heard his sister’s name in connection with that particular Terrance brother. He still remembered the Christmas party when he’d had to break up a scuffle between his friend and Hayden Terrance—after he’d hauled Jac off her brother’s back.
Jac shrugged. ‘If by close you mean friends, then yes, we’re close, but I haven’t seen Hayden in months, either.’ She gestured to the land around them. ‘I have a station to run, Mac. It doesn’t leave much time for socialising.’
Thank Christ for that. He’d promised Jamie he’d look out for his mate’s little sister, and he realised now he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. He rarely saw her in town, usually a wave as she drove by. He hadn’t had a conversation with her in—hell, months. He’d figured no news was good news when it came to Jacinta Buchanan. Now he was beginning to realise how wrong that assumption was. He’d hate to think what trouble she could get herself into if she applied herself. Running illicit drugs out of the mine was bad enough. ‘Did you know Leila Mayne is back in town?’ He didn’t know why he mentioned it, the words just popped out.
Jac nodded. ‘Yeah. She was here the other night when—’ She stopped talking, her blue eyes darkening as her gaze fell on the burnt hole in the ground.
‘She and Hayden are seeing each other again.’ He tried to say the words
gently. He knew at one point Jac and Hayden had been really tight. He’d hate for her to be hurt by Terrance, and wanted to prepare her for the undoubted disappointment that usually followed the man. God only knew what Leila saw in him.
Jac’s eyebrows rose. ‘Really? That’s …’ He stared at her closely. Damn, when had she gotten so good at the poker face? He couldn’t read her as easily as he used to. ‘Interesting,’ she said slowly. ‘Yeah. Interesting.’
His eyes narrowed. Did that shake any loyalty she had to Terrance? Enough for her to tell him what was going on?
A low drone had them both turning around, and he watched as one of the battered utes of Bulls’ Run bounced across the paddock toward them. It took a few minutes, but finally the vehicle pulled to a stop and the Bulls’ Run station manager, Scott Nielsen, alighted.
‘Mac,’ the man said, dipping his head in acknowledgement. ‘How’s it going?’
Mac waved casually. He knew the guy enough to greet him on the street, but not much further beyond that. The man had started working at Bulls’ Run after Jamie had left for his basic training. ‘Scott. Just swinging by to look at the damage, and to get Jac’s statement.’ He turned to stare at her pointedly. ‘Seeing as she left the hospital before I could interview her.’
She screwed up her nose. ‘I hate hospitals.’
Scott shook his head as he approached. ‘You could have blown me over when your dad told me you were back home. You sure you’re all right? You took quite the hit to your noggin.’
‘You were here, too, weren’t you?’ Mac asked, and Scott nodded.
‘Yep. Although I wasn’t as close to the blast as Jac was. She was knocked out cold.’
Mac’s jaw tightened at the mental image of the girl who’d pestered him to play rendered unconscious.
‘I’m fine,’ she said brusquely.
‘Well, your father wants you back at the house. Marion’s turned up, and he’s not happy.’ Scott glanced between them, and then shifted a little closer to Jacinta. Mac noticed the almost proprietary move as the man put his hand on Jac’s shoulder.
‘What’s new?’ she sighed. She turned to Mac. ‘Are we done here?’
Not by a long shot. ‘You go ahead. I’ll get Scott’s statement,’ he said, ‘and then I’ll swing by the house and get yours, and say hi to Tom while I’m at it.’
Jac met his gaze for a moment. ‘Dad’s not really in the mood for visitors, these days.’
Mac’s lips curved. ‘What’s new?’
Jac kicked the stand down, and gently swung her leg over the back of the bike, wincing. Her head ached. She glanced out across the paddocks. The sun had finally inched over the ridge, and lavender hues were disappearing as the tangerine streaks of light stretched across the red earth and green scrub.
No. Ached was too subtle a word. Her head throbbed like the Echo Springs Town Hall floor at a blue-light disco. Did they even do blue-light discos anymore? She didn’t know. That seemed so fun, so frivolous, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been fun or frivolous. She walked across to the kennels and opened the gates, letting the dogs out into the run. She filled up bowls, wincing as she had to bend down, and the thump in her head got stronger. In minutes she’d put the food out for them, and she ruffled Ray’s neck as he ran around her legs. The other dogs were working dogs, but Ray—well, Ray had been the runt of the litter, and she’d had to beg her father to let her keep him. She’d never admit he was her pet, though. Not where anyone could hear her, anyway.
She walked gingerly up the steps to the house, her boots thunking on the wraparound timber veranda. She almost put her foot down on the third slat, and caught herself just in time. There was a portion of the wood that was rotten, and she hadn’t gotten around to replacing the bloody thing yet.
Just one more thing to add to the endless to-do list at Bulls’ Run.
‘I don’t want your bloody eggs!’
Jac stopped at the back door and grimaced as she heard her father’s roar. Uh-oh. Ray stopped next to her, his ears pricked forward.
‘Well, then, you don’t get breakfast,’ a woman’s prim voice answered in response, and Jac’s eyebrows rose. Wow. Marion Morrison had a little bit of sass in her.
The widow had approached her for a job as a cook and housekeeper on the station. With Jac doing a lot of the farm work, she didn’t have the time, energy or inclination to do laundry, cook, or wash up after everything else she had to do. Money was tight, but they’d managed to come to an arrangement that included free board for the woman. The only problem was, she hadn’t yet told her father about the new arrangement. With everything that had happened, it had completely slipped her mind.
‘I’ll get my own damn breakfast,’ her father muttered.
‘I’d like to see you try lighting that stove,’ Marion chirped back, and Jac’s jaw dropped. Oh, now that was brutal. She could just imagine her father turning an apoplectic shade of plum purple. She toed off her boots and hurried into the house, hanging her hat up on the hook on the wall just inside and letting the screen door slam loudly behind her to let them know she was there. She winced as the sound added to that blue-light disco in her head. Ray whined outside the door, then lay down on the mat. Her father’s rule was no dogs in the house.
‘Morning,’ she called as she walked through the laundry to the kitchen.
‘Just the person I want to speak to,’ Tom Buchanan called back to her. He eyed the bandage around her head. ‘You look terrible.’
‘Thanks, Dad,’ Jac said, her tone dry. At the moment, the bandage seemed to be all that was keeping her brain from exploding.
Tom stood behind the chair at the head of the table, his one hand resting on his hip, his features tight and angry. ‘What the hell is she doing here?’
‘She’s the cat’s mum, Tom,’ Marion said as she dished some eggs and sausages onto a plate and set it on the table. ‘I have a name, and if you use it and show me some manners, you might even get coffee.’
Jac blinked rapidly. The woman had a death wish. Nobody talked to Thomas Buchanan that way. ‘Uh, I thought Marion could help us out around the house,’ Jac explained in a rush. She smiled at Marion. ‘I thought you’d be coming later,’ she said to the older woman. Like, after she’d had a chance to explain things to her father.
‘We don’t need help around the house,’ her father snapped.
Marion’s eyebrows rose as she eyed the overflowing hamper in the laundry. ‘Are you sure? This place looks like it needs a good clean.’ She crossed to the curtains that ran the length of the kitchen, and started pulling them back, letting the morning sunlight pierce the gloom. Dust motes danced in the light. And for that one little action, Jac wanted to hug her. Tom Buchanan didn’t like the curtains opened. Not since his accident.
Her father’s face showed his surprise at Marion’s comment, then his anger. ‘We’ve never needed anyone before. Jacinta and I are perfectly capable of looking after ourselves.’ He turned to Jac. ‘And maybe if you spent more time in the house and less time running around the farm, you’d see that. Let Scott do his job.’
Jac gaped for a moment. ‘Geez, Dad. Would you say that to Jamie?’
Her father’s frown deepened, if that were possible. ‘What’s Jamie got to do with this?’
Marion indicated the seat at the table, and Jac sat, scooping up the cutlery. She held the knife and fork in her fists, too angry and sore to force her appetite awake. ‘You wouldn’t tell him to focus on bloody housekeeping, if he were here.’
‘Well, no, he’d be looking after the farm.’ He stated the fact so simply, as though it was obvious.
Jac’s shoulders sagged. She couldn’t get angry with her father. He’d grown up in another time, and had no idea how much of a chauvinist he could be. She mentally counted to ten.
‘Well, Jamie’s not here,’ she said quietly, and started cutting into one of the sausages on her plate. The knife squeaked on the plate. ‘So I’m—’ She hesitated, and avoided looking at t
he pinned sleeve of her father’s shirt where his arm used to be. She didn’t want to say anything that implied she was doing the jobs he no longer could. ‘I prefer looking after the farm, Dad. I’m better at that than cooking, and you know it.’ She met his gaze. She’d tried to do a roast on Sunday. It came out looking like a tree stump after a bushfire.
‘We’re not a charity case,’ he said roughly, lifting his chin.
‘And who said you were?’ Marion exclaimed. ‘This is my job, Tom. I don’t do this out of the goodness of my heart.’ She eyed him up and down. ‘I’m nice, but not that nice.’ She sighed, then lifted her chin. ‘I need this job.’ She turned back to the stove, and held up a plate. ‘Now, do you want breakfast or not?’
Tom was silent for a moment, then grumbled under his breath as he pulled out the chair and sat down. ‘Fine.’
‘Fine, what?’
Jac’s eyes rounded. Ever since her father had lost his arm in a tractor accident three years earlier, he’d become angry. Bitter. She tried to avoid upsetting him, but she seemed to have a knack for doing just that. She’d never speak to her father the way Marion was speaking to him now.
‘Fine, Marion,’ her father muttered. The woman eyed him expectantly over her shoulder. ‘Please,’ he said with a growl. He glared at Jac over the table, and she dropped her gaze and hurriedly put the morsel of sausage into her mouth to hide her shock. They ate in awkward silence.
Jac looked up in relief when she heard a vehicle outside. Ray started barking. Her father looked up, frowning.
‘Who the bloody hell is that?’
‘Mac Hudson would be my guess. I ran into him out near Dick.’
Heavy boots clumped across the wooden veranda, and Jac heard the rap of knuckles on the screen door jamb, then a chuckle and some thuds. He was patting Ray.
‘Come in,’ she called out, and within moments Mac entered the kitchen, his hat in his hand. She tried not to stare. Just like she tried not to stare every other time she saw him. She couldn’t help it, though. He looked so tall and tough in his dark trousers and collared shirt and tie. His light blue shirt was still crisp across his broad shoulders despite the slowly climbing mercury, a twenty-minute drive from town and tramping about a crime scene. That didn’t surprise her, though. Mac had always been more than presentable, growing up. That’s why he was so popular with the ladies. She’d had such a crush on this guy when she was a teenager. But she wasn’t a kid anymore, and had long outgrown the flights of fancy of a romantic young girl who’d watched her brother’s best friend play the field … but she still remembered those fantasies, about him staring at her with those cool green eyes, opening those full lips and saying—
Hope Echoes Page 2
