Heartbreak Homestead (Hearts of the Outback Book 2)

by Susanne Bellamy

  “Johnno, it was deliberate, not an accident. I’ve seen enough of both to know the difference.”

  “I hope so. You were my star pupil. Not much more you can about it now you’ve let the boys in blue know. I’ll phone Donna and get back to you ASAP.”

  “Thanks, over and out.”

  The sounds of chopping filtered through from the kitchen. Alex’s offer to fix lunch while she was on the radio had been unexpected. And she welcomed time away from him to get her mental armour back in place. With her calls finished, Lizzy wandered onto the veranda and stood looking out at the garden.

  From a limb of the big tree in the middle of the yard, one knot of a greying rope still clutched a wooden board. Once upon a time, when she was small and her mother was still alive, she’d sat on the swing and soared through the air as Mum had pushed her. Imagining she was a bird able to fly far and free had been her escape from her father’s tirades. A time of happy days when her father was out mustering and her mother smiled with her. Now, the board hung drunkenly from one fraying rope.

  A lone tear slipped down her cheek, taking Lizzy by surprise. She wiped a hand over her cheek and turned to go into the house.

  Alex leaned against the doorjamb, one hand in his jeans pocket. “Hope I’m not intruding. Have you heard back from Donna yet?”

  Damn. Had he seen that tear? Showing vulnerability was her number one pet hate. Softly she cleared her throat and tucked an annoying loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Johnno promised to call back after he’s talked to her. What do you want to do?”

  Alex’s face gave nothing away. “Lunch is ready. Let’s eat now. We can make plans after we know if there’s a storage device to look for.”

  Her stomach gurgled as though agreeing. “Thanks. And I might pack a box. You mentioned taking some things back for Donna.” She led the way into the kitchen. Two plates of sandwiches sat on the bench. A small pile of freshly washed chopping board and knives dripped bubbles on the drainer. She picked up a plate and handed it to Alex before following him into the dining room.

  Piles of folders towered in stacks over half the table surface waiting to be sifted through. She shuddered at the thought of the time needed to come to grips with the property and her inheritance.

  “I found some old suitcases in a spare bedroom. If you want to, we can take a couple back with us.”

  “Can we fit in a couple of boxes of folders? Maybe I can get Donna to help me sort through them. I doubt there’s much she wants from here but yeah, a good idea. It will fill the time while we wait. When do you want to leave?”

  “That depends on what Donna says and if we have to search further. We’ve got a few leftovers to cover dinner tonight. Light rations, I’m afraid, but we won’t starve.”

  “There are dry supplies in the pantry. I can cook if we end up staying one more night.” She took a bite of her sandwich and struggled to swallow. God, she hoped they weren’t staying another night. When they finished eating, Alex carried both plates to the sink and washed them.

  “Okay. We’re organised. Would you mind if I take the ute and go out to check on my cattle?”

  “Be my guest. The keys should be on the hallstand near the back door.”

  “Thanks. Back in an hour or so.”

  “Alex, you do realise they may not be that close to the homestead?”

  “I know where Jeb last moved them, and since I’m here, I’d like to take a look. Back by four o’clock. If we haven’t heard from Donna by then, it will be too late to leave today.”

  She waited until the back door banged shut before heading inside. Sifting through the detritus of her brother’s life had been the last thing she’d expected to do, but Donna wasn’t in a fit state to make the trip out to the property. Lizzy wondered if her sister-in-law would ever return. Alex’s suggestion made sense. She made a preliminary assessment of the folders and packed two cardboard boxes to take back with them.

  Alex had left two worn suitcases in the hallway. She grabbed one and headed into the main bedroom where she’d slept last night. Pulling the wardrobe open, she began packing Donna’s clothes, leaving her brother’s gear for the time being. A few framed photos went in on top of the clothes. Lizzy looked at the collection, and it struck her how happy and close Jeb and Donna seemed in every single photo. If Jeb had been abusive to Donna, you’d never know it from this record of their lives.

  She moved into the spare bedroom and opened the second suitcase on the bed. A piece of paper was caught in the metal rim and she freed it and turned it over. Smiling directly at the camera, her mother’s face was a little out of focus but the love for her daughter was clear.

  Lizzy groped for the edge of the bed and sat. Running her fingers across the image, she recalled the day. They’d spent hours in the garden playing, gardening, and flying high on the swing. Her mother had brought out the camera Lizzy’s grandparents had given their daughter and she’d taken a complete roll of film of her children. With a single shot left, Lizzy remembered begging her mother for a chance to take a photo because she was a big girl of six so her mother had posed for Lizzy. Weeks later, she had died delivering a stillborn son and Lizzy had been taken to Aunt Trisha’s home.

  If only she’d had this photo of her mother to comfort her in the long, dark nights of silent tears.

  From the office, she heard the call sign for the base. Hugging the precious photo to her breast, she raced down the hallway and swung around the doorframe. “’Craeborn’ to Flying Doctor, come in.”

  “Lizzy, I’m sorry to tell you—”

  “What? She didn’t make copies or she can’t remember where she put them?”

  “No, love. Donna’s dead.”

  Chapter Five

  Alex wasn’t sure what he could do to help Lizzy but it didn’t feel right dropping her off at her aunt’s home and deserting her. And so he sat on the sofa holding the baby and a bottle while Lizzy and her aunt held one another. The bottle was empty but little Dan sucked the teat as though desperate for more.

  “Should I get him more milk?” Alex’s experience with babies amounted to zero. His five-year-old niece whom he’d met once when his sister came home for a visit last Christmas, lived in San Francisco.

  Lizzy wiped her wet cheeks and sniffed before taking Dan from him. “No, he’s just a little guts.” She rubbed her cheek softly against the baby’s head and closed her eyes.

  “What will happen to him?”

  “I’ll adopt him. I’m his family now.”

  Aunt Trish nodded. “He’s got the two of us to care for him. I might even change to part-time at work.”

  “What about Donna’s family? Is it possible they might make a claim?”

  Lizzy held Dan to her chest with one hand supporting his head. “No one’s going to take him from me.”

  Alex figured it was time to change tack. “Would you like some takeaway for dinner? I’d be happy to pick up something.”

  Trisha Wilmot drew herself up and met his gaze. “You’ve been very kind, Alex, but I think we might call it a night. If I don’t see you again before you leave, it was nice to meet you.”

  “I’m sorry it wasn’t under better circumstances.” He shook her hand and headed towards the front door.

  “I’ll see you out.” Her eyes were red and her shoulders slumped as she turned to him.

  “If there’s anything you need, anything I can do please let me know.” What could he say or do? Two of her family had died within a couple of weeks and left Lizzy to care for their infant son.

  She nodded and sought his gaze. “Thank you. I’m sorry we didn’t find your data. What will you do?”

  “Collect it all over again. I’ll talk with you in a day or two about that. You’ve got enough on your plate now. Good night, Lizzy.”

  Alex leaned back in his booth in the hotel bar and sipped his whisky. There was no reason why he should feel involved in the Campbell’s tragedy, but he couldn’t shake the conviction that his company was somehow a par
t of it.

  Was the fact Lizzy was Campbell’s sister the only reason for the unease in his gut? He’d never totally trusted Jeb Campbell; perhaps it was the man’s taciturn nature that had kept him at a distance. But why not trust Lizzy Wilmot?

  Brother and sister hardly knew one another. They were unlikely to be working against him. But the lead weight in his stomach refused to budge. Instinct had guided him well in business dealings, along with meticulous preparation and knowing all he could about those he dealt with. Lizzy was the unknown factor.

  And female.

  His engagement to Jennifer and its crushing conclusion when he arrived home unexpectedly from the conference and found a stranger in his bed had left him with an abiding distrust of women who used sex to achieve their ends.

  Lizzy was sexy and he’d seen the lust on the faces of the men she passed at the airport. Against that he weighed her obvious conflict in returning to her childhood home. He took another drink and mulled over his disquiet.

  “Mr. Alexander Carter?”

  The man standing at the end of his table was dressed casually in jeans and a sleeveless navy polo shirt, and carrying a black A4 organiser. “I’m Detective Senior Sergeant Caleb Richards. May I join you?”

  “Sure. What’s this about?”

  “You were staying at ‘Craeborn’ when the fire occurred last night?”

  “Yes.”

  “And Elizabeth Wilmot was with you at the house?”

  “Yes. She radioed in the report of the arson.”

  “Right. I’ve just been to her house to interview her and walked in on a meeting with a funeral director.”

  “It seems bad things come in threes. Are there questions I can help you with? Now isn’t a good time for what’s left of her family.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Carter. I want to know exactly what you saw, before, during, and after the fire. But first, why were you at the homestead?”

  An hour later, Alex felt as though he’d been through a wringer. The detective was thorough and probed impressions and facts Alex hadn’t even realised he’d filed away.

  “So, these tyre tracks were fresh and clear because there’d been a light shower while you were searching in the office. You deduced they were made by a quad bike, which you have experience with, and you and Ms. Wilmot followed the tracks to a creek where they disappeared. How far south do you estimate you walked along the bank?” Richards pulled a map out of his organiser and spread it over the table.

  “Given the time and the terrain we walked through, no more than two kilometres.”

  Richards located the homestead and the creek, and measured the distance on his map. “That would have put you about—here.” He tapped his pen on the map and made a notation. “That’s interesting. How well do you know the property?”

  “Not well. I visited it once before, when I met Jeb Campbell and inspected the facilities and the area he proposed to agist my herd. That was several kilometres in the other direction, west of the homestead. I drove out there yesterday afternoon to have a look but the herd wasn’t there. I can only surmise that Jeb had relocated them before his death.”

  “He committed suicide, didn’t he?”

  “I believe that was the finding. His funeral was the day I arrived in Mt. Isa.” Not even three days had passed since then but it felt like weeks. “There’s something odd about the timing of the fire, don’t you think?”

  “Tell me what your impressions are.” Caleb Richards’ penetrating gaze was interested.

  Alex tried to pinpoint what was niggling at his subconscious. “If I leave the missing attachment aside for the moment, there’s Jeb’s apparent suicide—”

  “Why apparent?”

  “Lizzy mentioned he had some medication in his bloodstream but there was no sign of the medication in the house. I assume that was why the body was held and the funeral delayed while you were investigating possible foul play.”

  “Go on.” Richards held Alex’s gaze as he sipped at his water.

  “Files relating to his work for my company appeared to be intact but there was no paper copy of the last report. We had agreed he would print out a paper copy of all results and keep it on file.”

  “So this missing paper would have been what was on the attachment, also missing.” The detective added to his notes and sat back. He tapped his pen on the note pad. “Go on.”

  “While we were at ‘Craeborn’, the hayshed was set on fire. Look, I don’t know if I’m seeing more than is there, but the idea occurred to me that it was a warning of some sort.”

  “From who? Why?”

  “I have no idea. As I said, it seems fanciful but the timing is odd.”

  “Do you believe the fire was linked in any way to your company’s association with Jeb Campbell?”

  “I can’t see how.” But if there was a connection, and it felt like a big ‘if’, his company may have contributed to the series of tragedies that had befallen the Campbell family.

  “Do you have any thoughts on Donna Campbell’s death?”

  Alex frowned and paused to consider the left field question. “Lizzy said her sister-in-law was suffering from postnatal depression and she was certainly emotional the night I met her. Other than that, I have no idea. It’s a terrible time for Lizzy and her aunt. Two suicides and a fire just don’t happen.”

  “As you say, Mr. Carter. Too much of a coincidence. Will you be in town for much longer?” Richards folded the map and packed up his organiser. He took a business card and offered it to Alex.

  “I don’t know. My original plan was to be back in Brisbane today, with the missing data. As it is, I need to make arrangements for the collection of new data but, like you, I don’t wish to intrude on the family at this time.”

  “Thanks for your time. I’ll be in touch if we need to ask you more questions.” He shook hands and departed.

  Alex ordered a bar meal and another whisky and mulled over the interview. Elusive wisps of an idea skirted his conscious mind, connections that may or may not exist.

  When he finished eating, he tossed back the last of his drink and headed up to his hotel room. He opened a new screen on his laptop and began to draw a mind map. The visual representation might reveal links he hadn’t considered.

  Chapter Six

  Dawn light filtered through the window and Dan was crying in his cot beside her. What a silly thing to have left her curtains open last night. And what was Dan doing in her room? Why wasn’t he with—?

  Realisation hit with the force of a freight train and Lizzy forced her eyelids open. Donna had taken a whole bottle of sleeping pills and Dan was now her responsibility. Before the lump in her throat choked her, she lifted Dan from his cot and crooned a good morning to him. Stumbling into the spare bedroom that was his nursery, she gave him a baby book to play with while she changed his nappy.

  The book went straight into his mouth.

  “That’s good, Dan. You’re never too young to devour a good book.”

  He kicked his legs as she took off his nappy. She turned back with a fresh disposable in hand, and Dan let loose an arc of piddle and a baby giggle.

  “Oops, I forgot you’re a little boy. Your mum warned me about you and your fountains.” The accident made her smile and when she finished cleaning up she lifted her nephew and nuzzled him. Eight weeks old and an orphan.

  He grabbed a fistful of her hair and shoved his hand in his mouth. Blue eyes the same depth of colour as Donna’s met hers and Lizzy’s heart burst with love for him.

  “Poor little orphan baby. I’ll be your mum now.” Tucking Dan onto her shoulder, she headed into the kitchen. “We need milk and strong coffee, don’t we, Danny Boy?” As she nursed the baby with his bottle, she began compiling a list in her head. Compassionate leave had to be organised immediately, but after that, what would she do?

  As she tossed around varying her work hours with Aunt Trish’s offer to go part-time so she could help look after Dan, her mobile pinged the arrival of a text mess
age. Stretching across the arm of the chair, she got her hand on it without disturbing Dan.

  Pls advise when free to meet. Will stay for funeral. Need help?

  It was hard to remember she’d met Alex less than a week ago. So much had happened— Lizzy squeezed her eyes shut. Tears would be no help to either Dan or her.

  Sniffing hard, she texted back.

  Funeral Mon 11am. Same chapel as Jeb. Meet you Sat. Say where. All good but thx.

  Her first impression of Alex in the solicitor’s office had been of a cold, hard man, admittedly attractive but one she wouldn’t like to be opposing her. He’d be a tough negotiator and his powers of persuasion were better than Terri Johnson at her best. Lizzy grinned at the memory of Terri’s fundraiser and the volunteers she’d convinced to dance a hula onstage. Not even Terri could have persuaded her to return to ‘Craeborn’ and yet, the day after she’d met Alex, there she was, back in the family home helping him in his search.

  Alex’s reply pinged into her phone. Café opposite main park, noon.

  Trish walked through from the kitchen, rubbing her eyes with one hand and a cup of tea in the other. “I guess early rising will be the new norm. No more pulling the covers back over my head when Dan wakes.”

  “I’ll see to his early feeds, Trish. No need for us both to get up.”

  Trish stroked a finger across the baby’s forehead and down his arm. He curled his fingers around hers as he drained his bottle. “Have you been thinking about what’s best for him?”

  “I’ve thought of little else. I want to adopt him but Alex raised a question last night about Donna’s family. Maybe Mr. Padstoke can help me find out if Donna made provision for her baby in her will.”

  “Shall we make an appointment to see him after the funeral?”

  “I’d rather know before I come face to face with the Taits on Monday.”

  ##

  Mr. Padstoke made a note on his legal pad while Lizzy rocked Dan’s carrier with her foot. He had slept through most of the interview with the solicitor but now the baby was stirring.