by Helene Young
The phone rang again. She watched her husband’s name flashing on the screen. It went to message bank. Thirty seconds later it rang again. Someone tapped on her window and she screamed.
Conor stepped back from the car, hands in the air. She lowered the window. ‘You gave me a heart attack. What are you doing out here?’
‘Just finished moving the Lady Leonie. I need to hitch back into town.’
Grateful for an excuse not to go back to Glenview, she smiled at him. ‘Jump in. I’ll run you in.’
He strode around the front of the vehicle. No wonder Kristy had the hots for him. He slid into the car smelling of sea and salt.
‘Thanks for this. It was going to be a long walk.’
‘No worries.’
‘Hey, thanks for inviting me on Sunday. It was fun. You live in a beautiful home. And . . .’ He shot her a look and she laughed. It sounded harsher than she meant it to be.
‘And my husband’s an arsehole.’
He smiled back at her, understanding in his eyes. ‘But your kids are cute. Can’t have it all.’
‘No, that would be greedy and life’s not like that.’
‘No, life’s what we make of it.’
He looked out the window and she noticed his hands clench and unclench before he turned to her again, his face serious. ‘I know it’s none of my business so take this as advice from someone who’s made mistakes, not as a judgement on you. Once we have kids the decisions we make change because they have to change. It’s not about us any more; it’s about them because they didn’t ask to have us as parents. And the greatest gift we can give them is a safe place to grow. That means we make sacrifices for them that we wouldn’t make for ourselves. I learnt that lesson too late. Don’t make my mistake, Freya.’
The road blurred. She blinked and the tears made their way down her cheeks before she swiped them away. She didn’t trust herself to speak.
‘When I asked Sienna why her dad never came to watch her play, she told me he was a drunken idiot and she hoped he died.’
‘No!’ Freya was horrified but not entirely surprised. Sissy was not one for hiding her emotions.
‘None of my business, but a good-looking, smart woman like you always has choices. And no,’ he added, grinning at her, ‘that’s not a pick-up line. I have other interests.’
She managed a smile. ‘And I hope you and Kristy do get together.’
‘Yeah, maybe.’ He looked unbearably sad and Freya wondered what hard lessons he’d had to learn.
‘Where do you want me to drop you?’
‘At the dock. Time to move the Veritas now.’
‘Of course. Are you staying with it?’
‘Yep. I’m self-contained with power and water and I don’t need much to survive.’
‘A simple existence.’
‘Makes it uncomplicated.’
‘Makes it easy to run as well,’ she said, and noticed his hands curled on his knees again. No one’s life was without complications, she thought as they drove past the pubs on the front to the jetty.
‘This do?’
‘Great. Thanks, you’ve saved me a couple of hours walking.’
‘No worries.’ She hesitated. ‘And thanks for the advice. Jonno’s not the easiest, but he loves his children.’
‘I’m sure he does, Freya, but do you want Buddy to grow up thinking that’s the way you treat women and children?’ He was out of the car before she could think of a response. He gave her a short wave as he headed to the line of dinghies, bobbing in the running tide.
The water of the river shimmered blue and silver, the sand bars hidden now. Ruffles of wind danced across the water. Out over the Coral Sea the first band of thunderstorms was marching towards Cooktown, the tops boiling under the pressure, white-hot against the brilliant blue of the sky. Overhead, fingers of high cloud streaked west, ominous forerunners of the devastating winds that would tear roofs from their rafters and snap palm trees like ice-cream sticks. The humidity was thickening as Cyclone Kate gathered strength. The calm before the storm was making her nervous.
25
Kristy tidied the papers on her desk. She’d been assured that everything was in order for Cyclone Kate. Since most of the staff had been through Cyclone Ita, they knew more than she did about what needed to be done. The hospital and retirement centre were built to a category-five standard so hopefully they’d escape unscathed again. The generator was running sweetly according to the maintenance guy, and anyone who could be sent home had been. That left four patients in the hospital and ten in the retirement building. People were still coming and going from the renal unit and would do so as long as possible.
She’d turned off the radio, sick of the cyclone warning tone and the repeated messages telling her to think about her evacuation plan. Mary had just phoned to say she’d bought milk and bread and left them in the fridge. Kristy was grateful but amused. Having lived at Ruby Downs meant she knew all about long-life milk and making do with whatever was in the pantry. It wasn’t uncommon to be cut off for up to a month once the wet season arrived. The airstrip turned to mud when the rains hit so even air supplies weren’t guaranteed. The mustering helicopter could carry some stuff, but it all cost money. The sealed road to Cooktown had made a hell of a difference, but apparently Cyclone Ita had proved it could still flood. It just meant when the waters receded the council didn’t have to rebuild the whole thing.
Her mobile rang again, the number familiar.
‘Hi, Mum. What’s happening?’
‘Kristy, I know you think we’re fussing, but your father’s been looking at the forecast. He’s really quite concerned about this one. He’s keen to come and pick Abby up if you can’t come. And your friend and her children as well. I’ve been baking for days and the freezers are full. He’s serious, Kristy, he’s even given the generator another service. And I’m worried too.’
Kristy went to stand by the window. ‘Yeah, some are saying this is different to Ita. One old bloke reckons the bats have already gone. Apparently they’re a reliable sign. There was no dawn chorus this morning either. But I don’t think Freya’s going to leave. I worry about her being cut off, and if Buddy gets sick . . .’
Glenview Station probably had an industrial-size first aid kit, but she knew the one at Ruby Downs could cope with everything up to minor surgery. Her mother used to be a nurse with the Royal Flying Doctors.
‘So let your father come and collect Abby. You know we love having her here and your father adores having his little mate out in the shed with him. He can be there by the time school’s finished.’
Kristy caved in. Without Abby she could concentrate on her job. If the worst happened and there was significant damage in Cooktown, then Ruby Downs was a safer place to be. ‘Okay, I surrender. She’ll be delighted. And school’s finishing early today so tell him to meet us at home.’
‘Oh, that’s fantastic. Is the wind picking up yet? It looks like we’re going to finally get some rain from a monstrous thunderstorm. The dams will be full again.’
‘Yeah, it’s blowing, along with light rain,’ Kristy replied. The gum trees were showing the silver underside of their leaves as eddies of wind wound through them. The rain was coming through in showers. No sign of the thunderstorms yet.
‘Okay, darling. He’ll call when he’s passing Black Mountain.’
‘Love you, Mum.’ But she was talking to herself. She could imagine Meg’s beaming smile as she hurried off to give her husband the good news. By the time Abby reached Ruby Downs tonight there’d be more batches of Anzac biscuits cooling on racks and most probably a lamb roast in the oven.
Meg would do everything in her power to tempt her granddaughter to eat, and maybe the change of scenery would distract Abby anyway. What had Mary said? Abby needed a man in her life? There could be no better role model than her grandfather, with his endless patience and ready smile. With few words he coaxed the best out of animals and people. He was a listener. ‘Your mother can talk for
two,’ he used to say to Kristy with a wink. ‘No need for me to have an opinion.’
Despite owning a mustering chopper and three quad bikes, he loved his horses and Kristy loved riding out with him in the early dawn. In those terrible months after Tyler died, she and Abby had camped out, slept under the stars in swags as her father gave them space to heal.
‘Life’s not always going to play by our rules, love,’ Craig had said, sitting on his folding stool, poking at the low fire, a mug of tea in his hand. ‘You can wait for things to get better or you can go looking. When you left here and went to university your mother and I were so proud of you, of both you and your brother. We wanted something better for you than this. We wanted you to know there was a world out there, that you shouldn’t limit your horizons. You had to stick your heads up and have a look around. Life doesn’t stop because you lose someone you love. And especially not when you have Abby to consider.’
It had taken six more months before she’d gathered enough courage and they made the move to Cooktown, a fresh start for both of them. Abby had fallen silent as they walked into their new home. It most certainly wasn’t the lovingly restored old Queenslander in Brisbane. The yard was bare grass, struggling in the heat, with a couple of big gum trees on the back fence line and a squat mango tree.
But Mary had bustled over on the first night with a hotpot in case they were hungry, and the small school had welcomed Abby. Within a month they’d been absorbed into the community. Kristy’s parents had come to visit and she’d seen the relief in their faces. It was easy to forget that losing a grandson hurt almost as much as losing a son.
‘Hey, Kristy. You going to do any more work for the day?’ Petra stuck her head around the corner. ‘I reckon we should all go home, leave those on shift. We need to get some rest. If this mongrel does what’s predicted, it’s going to be a long day tomorrow.’
‘You’re right. Dad’s coming to collect Abby.’
‘Sounds like a good idea. I’d leave if I wasn’t so stubborn. You don’t really want to live through a cyclone if you don’t have to.’
‘I tried to get Freya to take the kids and go as well. Sounds like there was trouble again last night.’
‘Oh no.’ She came into the room, dropped her handbag on the table and sat down. ‘The sooner she gets out the better, but I don’t trust him not to go after her with a gun.’
‘I wish she’d report it to the police so there was a record,’ Kristy said.
‘She did that once. It was before Miller came back to take over. She landed in hospital with a black eye, busted collarbone and a mass of bruises and scrapes on top of the damage he’d already done. Previous officer in charge was a mate of old man McDonald’s. Wouldn’t believe her story even though the doctor here filed a report. Seem to remember she was only visiting then. School holidays probably. It wasn’t long after that the old man died. Course he wasn’t Jonno’s real father. Evelyn had come up as the mustering cook with Jonno in tow and never left.’
Kristy frowned. ‘So Jonno’s not really a McDonald.’
‘Nope. And I hear the old man was none too fond of him either. Laid the foundations for the sort of man Jonno’s become though.’ Petra got to her feet. ‘Enough chatting. Go and get some rest. Full-on day tomorrow.’ She left with her usual cheerful smile.
Kristy glanced at the clock. Probably best she start packing.
On impulse she drove down the hill and along the front. The Veritas was gone. So was the Lady Leonie.
Could Conor possibly have an explanation for why his family was murdered? Sergeant Miller had been diplomatic this morning. Said that a story always has two sides. But she found it hard to move past the fact Conor had been lying from the start. He wasn’t Conor Woods, but someone with a violent past and criminal contacts.
And yet she knew he was capable of tenderness, of kindness. For that one afternoon on his yacht she’d felt cherished, adored in a way she’d never felt before. He’d gone to great lengths to protect Bill’s boat and even Sergeant Miller didn’t seem concerned about his character. The other day at Sissy’s party he’d told her it was a long story, but she’d never imagined anything like murder. She thought she had enough emotional baggage, but it sounded like he had a truckload more.
26
Conor finished tying one last line to the stern of the Veritas. Upstream, the Lady Leonie bobbed at anchor. The ropes on the trawler were all too big to tie around trees so he’d gone with two anchors and all the spare chain. The stretch of water only emerged from the mangroves when the tide was high. If the predictions were right, then the cyclone was going to hit at mid tide. He was hoping for some protection from the trees.
While he’d need to be here with the vessels during the storm, for now he’d done everything he could. He figured he might as well head into town. He could always walk back later if he couldn’t hitch a ride. A loud splash a hundred metres away made him spin. A scaly tail flicked as the crocodile sank below the surface of the water. The ripples vanished almost before they’d begun. Several slides were visible in the mud where other crocodiles had slithered into the water, their smooth bellies and tails leaving a telltale groove on the bank.
‘No abandoning ship tonight,’ Conor muttered. The world’s most efficient killing and eating machine still had plenty of representatives high up the river. He was even more grateful for his dinghy’s strengthened hull and high-powered motor.
Twenty minutes later he’d navigated his way back to the crude launching ramp beside a bridge. He passed three other boats on the way down, their crews working to secure their vessels. A shower of rain had washed through, settling the dust. The air was thick with the smell of damp bitumen and wet grass.
As he shouldered his pack, short, sharp, singeing blasts of wind eddied in the grass and piles of leaves. It did nothing to dispel the heat beating down. The hard shoulder was uneven, but about ten degrees cooler than the reflected heat of the bitumen. Several cars thundered past in the other direction. Out-of-towners stocking up on supplies, probably. It was only a matter of time until someone came along.
He pulled his cap lower as the sweat ran between his shoulder blades. The steady rhythm of walking let his mind wander. Predictably it went straight to Kristy and Abby.
Would Kristy give him a chance to explain? What would she say if she knew he was only here in Cooktown because he’d had a tip-off that the man who killed his family had connections to the area? That the only reason he’d accepted the invite to Sienna’s party had been to see inside the McDonalds’ compound? He knew in his heart that Steve McDonald was the killer. Time would tell whether it was provable or not.
And if he took his gun and shot Steve?
He knew he was at a crossroad. For three years he’d been seeking revenge and now that it was within reach he knew that to take it would destroy any chance of a future with Kristy and Abby. When would he feel that he’d paid his dues? In his darkest moments he’d planned to find the killer, then turn the gun on himself. But now?
Ahead, the next line of scudding clouds rolled in from the ocean, a cool wind ahead of it. The bush on either side of the road was ominously quiet. No roos, few birds and even the buzz of insects seemed muted. Nature knew that a blow was on its way. In twelve hours they’d know if the cyclone eye was going to cross over them.
The sounds of a car coming up behind him fast made him step a little further off the road. He held his thumb out hopefully but the car zoomed past. The tinted windows hid the occupants.
A slower-moving ute rumbled up beside him and pulled over.
‘Hop in, mate.’ It was the old fellow who’d taken the girls horseriding.
‘Thanks for stopping.’
‘No worries. I’m Jeff. We met the other day. You’re with Abby’s mum.’
Conor had to stop himself denying it. ‘Of course. At Sienna’s party.’
Jeff snorted. ‘Jonno’s piss-up, more like. What sort of thirteen-year-old’s birthday party has a fuckin’ celebrity
chef? Old Mac would have turned in his grave.’
‘You knew Old Mac?’
‘We grew up together. The lads all take after their mother. More’s the pity.’
‘Really.’ Conor was nonplussed. Jeff was pretty outspoken for a man employed by the family.
‘You’re lucky Steve didn’t run you off the road when he went past.’ He nodded ahead at the car disappearing around a corner.
‘What have I done to him?’ Had he recognised Conor?
‘Nothin’. But Jonno reckons you’re screwing his wife. He’s always been a dickhead.’
Conor managed a laugh. ‘You can be very certain Freya and I do nothing more than exchange pleasantries about Sienna and the training.’
‘No, I noticed you and Dr Dark were pretty cosy.’ He shot a quick smile at him, his eyes disappearing into a web of leathered creases. ‘She’s a lady. I know her parents too. Good people. She’s had a lot to cope with.’
‘So I hear.’
‘Did the right thing coming home. Hard to lose a little ’un. Then a husband as well. Her parents worried she’d give up being a doctor altogether, but she’s like her mum. Strong woman.’
‘You don’t have any family?’
‘Had a wife once. Didn’t work out. Never bothered trying again. Love me horses. They’re enough company for me.’
‘And working for the McDonalds?’
‘Jonno’s an arsehole, but Evelyn won’t throw me out. She knows I’m the only one who really understands what needs doing out there. The manager’s a young fella who’s smart enough to know when to listen and when to talk. Got a way with horses too.’
‘So what do Jonno and Steve actually do?’
