by Helene Young
Jonno bellowed and lashed out, but his lack of fitness was showing and his injury was taking its toll. Kristy had never witnessed a fight like this. They traded brutal punches, flesh slapping into flesh, the noises more animal than human. She couldn’t risk using the gun, but she thought she could see blood on Jonno’s left shoulder. Maybe Conor had spotted it too, as he seemed to land more hits there. Jonno was starting to flag and his foot slipped on the deck. He crashed down onto his knee, holding one hand high. Kristy saw his other hand dive towards his pocket.
‘Stop!’ she screamed. ‘Hands in the air!’ But of course he didn’t stop, and the knife blade glinted in the light as it arced towards Conor, who swayed away. She didn’t hesitate, fear steadying her aim. The shot snapped Jonno’s head around and he slumped to the deck, but she thought it was only a glancing hit. Conor was on him in an instant, kicking the knife free from his hand and forcing him flat. Jonno let out a steady stream of abuse.
‘Get a rope, Kristy. Anything to tie him up.’
She whirled away, shoving the gun back into her pocket. All the rope on deck was too thick. The wheelhouse, maybe? She found a coil of yellow nylon. It would have to do. Back on deck, Conor had Jonno facedown on the floor with his arm wrenched up behind him and a gun trained on his back. Kristy crouched next to them. Blood oozed from the furrow on Jonno’s head.
‘Here.’ Her fingers tangled with Conor’s as she took the gun from him. She glanced at him and saw myriad emotions in the midnight-dark eyes. She had an inkling of how he was feeling. She managed a tiny smile and was rewarded with a short nod.
The noise was starting to build again and the first big gust of wind from the opposite direction slammed into them. The Lady Leonie heeled over as the wind caught it, and it swung hard against its anchor, pulling up short with a violent jerk. Kristy sprawled across the deck, sliding towards the side. Conor made a grab for her leg and Jonno took his chance. He was over the railing before Conor could stop him. With the vessel still bucking in the gale, Conor and Kristy scrambled to their feet.
Conor made it to the railing first and peered into the darkness. Kristy joined him, the horizontal rain stinging her face. The dinghy from the Veritas was low in the water, tied to the black speedboat. ‘Where’d he go?’
‘There!’ Conor pointed downstream, where a flash of fluoro yellow surfaced. ‘His hands are tied. He’ll never make it.’ A thin cry cut off abruptly as the water swept Jonno away.
Wind swooped in again, buffeting them. Kristy clutched Conor, trying to stay upright. The inky water was swirling with debris. Jonno was going to sink or swim. There was no way he could make it back to the Lady Leonie against the flood. Conor squinted into the darkness, looking like he might launch a rescue mission. It would be futile in these conditions.
‘Nothing you can do,’ she said, and Conor nodded.
Kristy tugged at his arm, pulling him into the relative calm of the wheelhouse. He still looked conflicted.
‘You came back,’ she said.
‘I heard your radio call.’ He reached out, the palms of his hands rough against her cheeks. ‘I was going mad not knowing what was happening. When I heard you yell, I thought . . .’ He gave a ragged sigh and dragged her close, into the safety of his arms. It felt so right, like two broken bones settling back into alignment. But no matter how tempting, how comforting his embrace, they needed honesty between them.
She leant away and he let her go. She recognised resignation in his eyes and right now she had nothing to give him, no way to tell him it would be all right.
‘The girls,’ she said. ‘I locked them in the cabin. They knew Jonno was here.’
He held the door open for her, and she thought her heart might just break.
36
Conor followed her down to the cabin. Something had shifted tonight. He felt as though something good was slipping from his grasp. Again. When he’d manoeuvred past in the Veritas he’d been resigned that he might not see the sunrise, let alone see Kristy again, but when he heard that radio call? Everything had turned on its head. He could no more walk away from Kristy Dark and her daughter than cut off his right arm. In the space of three months they’d given him a reason to laugh, really laugh, again. They’d given him a reason to dream and hope. Kristy, with her brittle reserve, had given him a reason to love again. This time he was a man who knew what the world could do, knew the fragility of human life, recognised when something was worth fighting for, even if it came at the ultimate price. There was no question that tonight he would have paid the highest price to keep Kristy and Abby safe.
Yet the Kristy he’d farewelled two hours ago had clung to him as though he was precious. Now there was a space between them again.
Ahead of him, she knocked on the door. ‘Abby, Sissy, it’s me. Open up. It’s okay, we’re safe.’
‘Mum?’
‘Yes, it’s me. And Conor.’
‘Conor?’ There was a clatter of dive tanks hitting the deck before the door flung open and Abby shot out to wrap her arms around his chest. ‘Thank God. You’re here. I was so scared. And Mum.’ She looked at her mother. ‘Mum was so brave. She was so cool. And . . . ’ Her face crumbled and she let go of Conor, reaching for her mother. Kristy stood there, rocking her daughter as the sobs shook Abby’s thin shoulders.
‘How are you doing, Sissy?’ Conor asked as she appeared in the doorway.
She nodded, but she looked spaced out. ‘Really tired. Did you kill him?’
‘No. But I don’t think he’ll get too far.’ He didn’t bother to add that with at least two gunshot wounds still bleeding, Jonno’s chances of survival were slim if he didn’t get ashore in a hurry.
Sissy managed a smile, but she was barely standing. ‘And Mum? Do you know where Mum and Buddy are?’
‘No, but I’m sure they’re safe.’ Kristy wasn’t going to add to the girl’s worries.
‘Oh.’ Tears welled in Sissy’s eyes. ‘Mum’s going to be so mad at me.’
‘No, honey, she’ll be glad to see you. Here.’ Kristy reached for her phone. ‘We’ll ring her.’ She looked at the screen and grimaced. ‘Damn. Phones are out.’
‘Go back to bed, hey?’ Conor prompted. ‘Try to get some sleep. We’ll find her in the morning.’ The boat lurched again as the wind forced it against the flooding waters. He needed to get the engines going in case they dragged anchor.
‘Yeah, you’ll feel way better after a sleep.’ Kristy steered an unresisting Abby to the bunks.
Conor turned away and headed to the saloon. The kettle was still warm. He put it on again. Next stop was the wheelhouse. He found the smashed microphone. At least there was the second one in the saloon. Both engines thudded into life. He checked the chart plotter. They were still sitting tight on the same spot.
‘Everything okay with the boat?’ Kristy was standing beside him, fatigue radiating off her in waves.
‘Yeah, so far so good, but the rain’s even heavier and the sting is so often in the tail.’
‘So I’ve heard.’ She met his eyes.
‘What happened tonight? Did he . . . Did he touch you?’ He didn’t think he could bear it if the answer was yes.
She shook her head.
‘Thank God. If I’d been too late . . .’
The kettle starting whistling.
‘Cuppa?’ Conor asked.
‘Yeah.’
He waited until he’d handed her a steaming mug. She slumped on the bench seat against the wall. He sat down opposite her.
‘Tell me about it. It will help.’
She blew on the top of the tea, met his eyes over the rim and started to talk. When she stopped, he knew there was still more to say, but he gave her time to gather herself.
‘That was inspired, using the fire-extinguisher,’ he said. ‘And the axe. Not sure I would have been that quick.’
‘Thanks.’
The silence stretched, but he let her be.
Finally, she shifted in her seat. ‘Your wife and daught
er.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Jonno said some things tonight. Maybe you need to tell me that long story.’
He looked at the mug cupped in his hands and sighed. ‘Maybe you’re right.’ He rested his head against the wall. This was a turning point. She might want him gone after she’d heard it, but it was her right to know. ‘Annabel and Lily were killed to teach me a lesson. Out at the McDonalds you never asked me how they died and I thank you for that.’
‘You weren’t ready to talk about it then.’
‘I was terrified that if told you, then you’d never see me again. I wanted to get to know you first.’ He shrugged. ‘I sound like a lovesick teenager, but I wanted to prove I was worthy, that the Conor of today isn’t the Conor of five years ago. That I would make different choices today, value life, value you and Abby. But I always knew there was a risk. I’d googled you. I felt like I knew everything about you, about your life, but I didn’t dare let you into mine.’
‘You googled me?’
‘Sorry. After everything that’s happened, I tend to do my homework.’
She almost smiled. ‘And I googled you, but there wasn’t anything about a Conor Woods. Are you a cop?’
‘No.’ He leant forward and rested his elbows on the table. ‘You’d need to google Conor Stein. I was a financial controller for Reeves International, part of a Russian cartel. Before that I played AFL professionally. My wife, Dr Annabel Stein, and my daughter, Lily, were gunned down by an assassin because I turned informer and handed all Reeves’ money-laundering operations over to the authorities. Their network included everything from match-fixing in all football codes in Australia to drugs and gambling. Construction provided the means to do the laundering. I made the basic mistake of not safeguarding my family first and they paid the price.’
Kristy’s mouth froze in a silent O.
He nodded. ‘The police put me in witness protection so that I could testify. A crooked cop put paid to that, but I still wanted justice. That was when I bought my first boat, Phoenix. Unfortunately, I got caught in a storm off Banksia Cove. I lost that boat and my memory. By the time it came back, the Russians had caught up with me. They and many others had too much to lose. It cost another woman her life, an Aboriginal elder, Rosie, who was the heart of her community.’
‘How did she die?’
He swallowed. This was almost as hard as talking about his family. ‘She was beaten up so badly she didn’t make it. She’d done nothing wrong, and it was my fault again.’ He looked down at the table, traced a box in the moisture left by the cup. ‘I did testify and the Feds wrapped up the gang’s operations, not just here, but overseas as well. They put me back in witness protection, but I needed to find myself again, prove myself worthy of living.’ His laugh was self-mocking. ‘That sounds so bloody self-indulgent, but I needed a reason to live.’
‘I understand.’ There was a glimmer of a smile on Kristy’s face. ‘And that’s what you’re doing in Cooktown: making amends for Rosie and Annabel and Lily.’
‘Yeah. And trying to find the killer. I knew who’d ordered Annabel and Lily’s execution, but I didn’t know who pulled the trigger. I had some clues but nothing concrete, just a grainy photo. And then there was Sienna’s birthday party and I met Steve.’
‘Steve McDonald!’ Kristy didn’t look as shocked as he’d expected.
He nodded. ‘I believe so, although I may never know for certain. He’s dead too. One of the horses kicked him in the head and the chest. He’s back at the property.’
They were both silent. Kristy stirred first. ‘According to Jonno, Steve killed Danny Parnell.’
‘That would fit the pattern.’
‘I don’t know that they’ll be able to prove it, though.’
‘No.’
The trawler reeled again under another shuddering onslaught. Conor glanced up at the secondary plotter. They were still on station.
‘You must miss Annabel and Lily,’ Kristy said.
‘I do, but every day new memories replace old ones. It doesn’t tear at me like it used to. I think the guilt will always be raw. I can’t change that. I can only do my best to even up the ledger.’
‘Hence the volunteer work.’
‘In part, but I also enjoy it. Kids are cool.’
‘On the boat that day. When we . . .’ She blushed, even under the grey of fatigue. ‘And the glass broke. I owe you an explanation too.’
‘No, you don’t. I rushed you. I naively thought we could do uncomplicated sex. Turns out we couldn’t, or at least I couldn’t. I wanted something more. It’s obvious you’re not —’
‘No, it scared me. The intensity scared me, how easy you were to love. And then the glass . . .’ Her bottom lip wobbled. She took a deep breath. ‘My husband was a very controlling man. He was a doctor who’d turned to lecturing, twenty years older than me. He had a beautiful voice and a compelling way of talking, but . . . he preferred words to punches. Twelve months to the day after our beautiful boy drowned, he snapped and threw a crystal wine glass at me. When I refused to react he smashed everything on the table. I accepted then what I’d always known. I’d been making excuses for him since Finn died, using his grief to explain away his increasingly violent moods. I couldn’t fool myself any longer. I was living in an abusive relationship and it had to stop. It’s why I’ve had such concern for Freya. I told him I was filing for divorce and that he would need to leave. Abby and I were staying because he was no longer welcome.’
Conor remained silent as she gathered herself and wiped the tears from her chin.
‘He stormed off in his car in the middle of the night. The weather was horrendous and he lost control on a bend. Died at the scene.’
Conor crossed over and slid onto the seat next to her, pulling her close. She was shaking as though frozen to the core. Her hands, when he grabbed them, were like icicles. Shock had to be setting in.
‘You need to stop talking and warm up, Kristy. Have a shower. There’s time for this later.’
‘No!’ Her eyes blazed. ‘Please. I may never have the courage to say this again.’
He wrapped her hands together, tucked them between their bodies and kept rubbing her shoulder, willing his warmth into her.
‘I didn’t tell anyone – not the police, not my parents, most certainly not Abby, that we’d had a huge row. I didn’t want her to think badly of her father, to know that the gentle man I married had barely put the ring on my finger before he was subtly separating me from family and friends, organising my life, controlling me in small ways. I couldn’t trust anyone after that. My parents were the only people I could turn to, yet even they have never heard the full extent of it. Without trust there’s nothing. I know that now.’
He rested his head against the wall. ‘And now I’ve lied to you too.’
‘Yes, but maybe for good reasons. And you gave me space. When you said you would settle for being friends but you couldn’t cope with being strangers, I wanted to weep on your shoulder right there and then, but I wasn’t brave enough.’
‘And I thought I could settle for friends, but I can’t. That’s not enough for me, Kristy. I want the chance make you smile every day, to watch Abby take on the world and win. But I don’t ever want to bring harm to your door.’
Tears glittered on her eyelashes and that wide, luscious mouth trembled as she buried her face in his shoulder, wrapped her arms around his waist. ‘I think Abby and I brought the danger to your door this time.’
‘Ha, you call Jonno danger?’ He kissed her temple, feeling the tension ebbing from her body. ‘He’s a pussycat compared with the Russians.’
Her snort was almost a laugh. ‘I’ve fired shotguns at wild pigs so I didn’t expect pulling the trigger to shoot a man would be so hard to do, but it was. When he yanked out that knife?’ She shuddered again.
They were silent and Conor drank in the feel of her pressed against him. He knew from that one brief afternoon the sensitive hollows and dips of her body. Now he wanted to embark on
a journey to make her laugh, let her learn to trust again, to love again.
‘You think too much,’ she murmured. ‘I can hear the cogs whirring from here.’
‘I’m plotting.’
‘Really?’ She burrowed a little closer.
‘I think you may be wearing the only other set of clothes I still own. I might need to take them back.’
She laughed and tipped her face to him. ‘And the greatest gift you bring to our lives is laughter. Thank you.’
‘You calling me a clown now?’ He feathered a kiss on her lips.
‘No, but definitely a friend, not a stranger. Play your cards right and that might turn into a lover.’
He tasted the salt on her cold lips as he returned the kiss. She snuggled into him again and that act of faith was more telling than any of the passion that had flared between them.
Five minutes later, he stretched her out along the bench and covered her with a blanket. Exhaustion etched hollows into her cheeks and dark smudges under her eyes. Being cocooned inside an ageing fishing trawler with Cyclone Kate tearing the world apart outside felt like a metaphor for his life. He’d been living in the eye of a storm for too long, cut off from life. Once the storm had passed, it was time to live, to love again. His ghosts could finally be laid to rest.
37
Kristy finished hanging out the washing. A blissful day off stretched ahead of her. Abby was at school, coping pretty well considering the trauma of the cyclone. Freya, Sienna and Buddy were out on Ruby Downs, staying in one of the cabins. Jonno’s body had washed up on the last bend before Cooktown. ‘Not even the bloody crocs would eat him,’ Mary had said with an arm around Freya when Sergeant Miller came with the news. Freya and Buddy had made it to the cyclone shelter before night fell, but it had taken another twenty-four hours after Cyclone Kate before she was reunited with Sienna. She’d clung to Kristy, then Conor, tears pouring down her cheeks, unable to find words to say what was in her heart.
