A Place With Heart

by Jennie Jones

  ‘What weather issues can we expect on the GCR, Jimmy?’

  ‘Just checking, boss. Ah—lovely,’ he said, reading from his computer screen. ‘Warm and humid. Some cloud expected later, cooler this evening.’

  ‘And the road?’

  ‘We’re on. Great Central Road in reasonable to good condition. Mt Maria to Walkertown is open to all vehicles.’ Jimmy looked up. ‘They’ve got roadworks seventy kilometres east of the roadhouse.’

  ‘Okay.’ The Empress Roadhouse was 300 kilometres east of Mt Maria, the Great Central Road continuing for another 260 to Walkertown, and on to the border.

  ‘I’m guessing we’ll have little to no radio coverage,’ Jack said. ‘We’re carrying sat phones?’

  ‘We’ll get mobile phone coverage, or normal radio use, but only if we’re close to the Empress Roadhouse,’ Louie advised. ‘Otherwise, it’s sat phone only.’

  ‘And we’ve only got two,’ Jimmy said. ‘I’ll need one here so I can communicate with you.’

  ‘I’ll use my own,’ Louie said. ‘Okay if I go pick it up on my way out there, Sarge?’

  ‘You’ve got a sat phone?’ Jack asked.

  Louie shrugged. ‘I like to go hiking. I need the gear if I’m going remote.’

  Louie didn’t look like the pitch-a-tent sort but Jack didn’t have time to question further. ‘Thanks,’ he acknowledged. ‘Jimmy, call the roadhouse. Let them know we’re heading their way. Make sure they’ve got both sat phone numbers, and Bivic’s description. Eddie—get descriptions of the other three men who’ve left the mine site, plus their vehicles, and get it out there.’

  ‘Let’s go,’ Will advised, with a clap of his hands.

  Everyone moved fast.

  ‘Louie, you and Johnson get going now.’ Jack would need ten or fifteen minutes to get everything organised, due to the station being packed with civilians and Jack wanting to ensure Edwards and Eddie were supported with two more off-shift officers on standby to get into work if needed.

  ‘I’ll grab some additional supplies,’ Donna said.

  ‘Grab some for us too, Murray,’ Louie said, as he walked towards the rear of the station and the car park. ‘See you out there.’

  ‘By the book, people!’ Jack called over the flurry of activity.

  Ten minutes later, Jack moved into the hallway, and paused at the open door to his office. He had one more thing to do, and he’d be taking the time to do it.

  Frances was kneeling in the corner of the office, stroking the lamb and the puppy. Jax was next to her, on her knees too, an arm around Frances’s shoulder. They were talking quietly, their voices soft as they both gathered themselves, absorbing the shock of what had happened.

  Jax started when he came up behind them.

  ‘I’m heading out,’ he told her as she stood, eyes on him intently. He wasn’t going to say where or why, not with Frances here, but she’d understand.

  She nodded imperceptibly, worry clouding her features.

  Jack gave it another beat, their gazes still locked. Then he leaned in and kissed her on the mouth. ‘I love you,’ he said. ‘Stay here and look after Frances.’

  He turned, and left, picking up his cap from his desk on the way out.

  Jax sat on a chair in the OIC office, checking her watch again. Jack had been gone for an hour and twenty minutes. Earlier, when he’d been relaying orders and instructions to his team, she’d moved Frances back into the office, but she’d stayed outside the door, in the hallway, listening, so she knew what he’d put into place and where he was headed. For Bivic.

  How could anyone even contemplate fighting animals? It was so gross, sickness rose to her throat at the thought. But people did so many horrible things for money, or for drugs.

  She glanced at the corner of the room. The rooster seemed content, nesting in a filing tray on Jack’s desk. The puppy was asleep, and the lamb was enjoying being patted by Frances.

  There was something different about Frances now, something a little more grown up than yesterday, or even earlier this morning before the giant had caused such trouble.

  One of the things Jax was worried about was having to tell the authorities what had happened to Frances today. Being the supposedly responsible one, her guilt was higher than a kite on a blustery day, due to her not having done more about investigating the reason for Frances’s strange mood that morning.

  Don’t let them take her away from me.

  Her eye wandered to the CCTV monitor, which Jimmy had covered with a blanket so that Jax and Frances didn’t have to look at the screen.

  It had been a little terrifying when the officers brought the Baxter boys in through the rear door of the station. She’d never been so close to the law or law enforcement in this manner. Again, that awareness of what the police did, what they put up with, what they saw, swamped her, making her edgy and full of disquiet.

  The Baxter boys had been in shock when they’d been led in through the back door. Damon bug-eyed, mouth pinched into an angry thin line. Robert had been talkative, giving Edwards and Eddie a lot of backchat. It hadn’t worried either of them, but Jax noticed that Robert was in handcuffs. Perhaps he’d been giving them trouble the entire journey back to the station. They’d admitted their part in the drawings, the dug-up telephone wires, the burning of Mrs Arnold’s shed, the stealing of animals, and what they’d done with Tonto. Bivic had been furious once he realised his animal fighting ring was under threat of discovery.

  It was Jimmy who’d told her all this. ‘On the quiet,’ he’d said, but obviously knowing that Jax needed as much information as she could, given the worry she was harbouring for Jack.

  Three cells were now occupied: one for the giant and his mate, and another two for Damon and Robert Baxter. The last cell was awaiting Bivic, the man who was happy to abuse animals. And people, too.

  She looked away from the covered monitor, her skin prickling with frustration at her helplessness, cooped up in here. But what could she do? They weren’t allowed out of the station in case trouble came to town. Not that Jack had advised the town it was in lockdown or anything. He’d said it was best if they carried about their business, as normal. They’d had enough excitement with Frances’s driving escapade. It had taken some time to get the town back to normal again, with people asking questions about the shooting of Billy and the runaway driver, Frances. Why? was the question on everyone’s lips.

  But he hadn’t let the Agatha Girls leave either, in case any of Bivic’s men came for them too after discovering they’d taken the animals from the cleared site and involved the police. They were in the kitchen, snacking on the sandwiches and rolls Rosie had dropped off twenty minutes ago. Rosie knew what was happening; Jax hadn’t wanted to keep it from her. She was involved too, and quite brave about it. She’d said she’d sit it out at the café, where work would take her mind off David and any trouble he might get involved in.

  Jax would love to be at the café, her hands busy, her mind full of everyday, ordinary tasks. But she was sitting here, doing nothing, helping no-one with her worrying.

  She ran an eye around the office, focusing on everything Jack used to do his job. He was a man of action, used to being out on the streets, doing whatever detecting he needed to do. It must have been hard this last week, sitting in the office attending to nothing but paperwork and buckled pram wheels.

  How that had changed, suddenly.

  He was here undercover, but that hadn’t stopped him from fulfilling his duty as officer in charge of the Mt Maria Police Department. Pride filled her, suffocating some of the concern for him.

  She could do the same. Care for Frances. Care for Amelia Arnold, Mary, and Freda Frith.

  The thought of Freda found her chewing on her thumb. There was something wrong there. Something almost imperceptible, but definitely wrong.

  ‘Jax?’

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Frances’s voice, calling her by name for the first time. ‘Yes, darling?’

&nbs
p; Frances lifted the lamb off her lap and put it on its feet. ‘Is Jack in danger?’

  ‘No. He’ll be fine. He’s the police, remember.’

  ‘But you’re worried about him.’

  ‘I’m worried about everything at the moment. You, mostly.’

  ‘I’m okay, now that I know Billy’s not going to die.’ She looked down at the lamb. ‘Did I do something wrong?’ she asked quietly. ‘Did God forget me or something?’

  God? Jax had never had a lot to do with God, although she prayed sometimes. She didn’t know who she was sending that prayer up to. It was more like an instinctive faith that there was a deity out there. More like a hope that somebody was listening and that her voice might be heard above all the other voices, above all the others who were praying for something or someone to get better.

  ‘Why do you say that?’ she asked gently.

  Frances sighed. ‘Because I think I’ve been unhappy for a long time.’

  Jax stood and walked over to the penned-off area containing the lamb, the puppy and her daughter. ‘Can we help each other, do you think?’ she asked, heading into a delicate conversation, but she’d promised to be open to anything and everything Frances wanted or needed to talk about. ‘I’m often unhappy too.’

  ‘You?’ Frances said, eyes wide in surprise.

  Jax smiled. ‘Not deep-down unhappy. But lonely sometimes.’ She stepped over the barricade of chairs and into the makeshift pen. ‘Now you’re here, I don’t feel so alone.’

  ‘It’s been hard for you having me here, though. Hasn’t it?’

  ‘No. It’s been a marvel. If I’ve looked a bit worried now and again, it’s only because I don’t want to get things wrong. It’s not unhappiness; it’s a tangled emotion, because I love you. I always loved you, and I love you more now than ever before. But I get worried, and a bit sad, when I think I can’t make you happy.’

  Frances bit her lip. ‘My friend, Saanvi, messaged me on Facebook. She wants to stay friends.’

  ‘Do you want to stay friends?’

  Frances deliberated for a moment. ‘I miss her. We were bestest friends.’

  ‘What made you stop being bestest friends?’

  ‘My dad.’

  Jax tucked a thick strand of Frances’s hair behind her ear, noticing how much more it suited her to have her hair off her face. At least while it was in this squared bob. ‘Your dad hurt you, emotionally, but hurts can be mended. If you want to see him, we’ll see what we can arrange.’

  ‘Hurts can be mended with friends, like with Saanvi, but I don’t know about my dad.’

  ‘Then why don’t we keep the conversation open, and talk about it whenever you want to. You can always talk to me. I’ll always listen.’

  Frances blinked. ‘Did Jack tell you about his foster family?’

  ‘No,’ Jax said softly, a multitude of thoughts running through her head. She’d known he was orphaned; he’d told her he’d had a hard upbringing, but she’d never contemplated that he might have been in foster care in his youth, and what that might have done to him.

  ‘He said he had one really good foster family, who let him be himself,’ Frances said. ‘He said they walked at his side, and he said that’s what you’d do for me. That you’d always walk at my side.’

  He’d said that? She lifted a hand to cover her face as emotion clogged her. She’d thought he’d break her heart. It can never be Jack, she’d told herself. The ridiculous thing was, she now knew she’d break her own heart if she let him go. ‘He’s a good man,’ she managed.

  A hand on her bare arm brought her out of the despondency.

  Frances looked up at her, her blue eyes questioning. ‘Would you like to call me Franca?’ she asked. ‘Because if you did, I could probably get used to it.’

  Love overwhelmed her. Love, and gratitude. ‘Oh, Frances.’ Without pausing for thought, or to reason with herself, she pulled her daughter into her.

  Frances came so willingly into her embrace, head against her shoulder, that her heart swelled. Her child was warm to the touch; warm and beautiful. ‘I haven’t thought of you as Franca for days. You’re Frances.’ Like she was Jax, no longer Isabelle. ‘How about I just call you mine?’ she said on a smile, not wanting to overwhelm her and trying to be easy and loving about the whole thing.

  ‘I might like to call you mum.’

  Oh, dear God. Did she deserve this blessing? ‘In which case, I might cry.’ A lot. Tears already stung her eyes.

  ‘But I’d be making you cry for the right reason,’ Frances said, making it sound like a question.

  Jax pulled away and looked into her child’s face. Frances was a little unsure—about everything—but her heart was mending. The wariness had gone. The loneliness Jax had seen so often in her gaze had disappeared. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’d cry for the right reasons.’

  ‘I think even if you hadn’t been my real mother, and I’d been sent to a foster family and you were the mum there, I’d still be okay about calling you mum. I think I’d have liked you anyway.’

  This was going to break Jax into a thousand shining pieces. ‘Me too.’

  ‘Do you think I could be a police officer?’ Frances asked.

  ‘There’s no-one saying you can’t be.’

  Frances paused, then spoke quietly. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘For not telling me what I have to do and what I’ll never get the chance to do.’

  Jax’s heart contracted.

  ‘Are you going to be Isabelle instead of Jax?’

  ‘No,’ Jax said, looking into her daughter’s eyes, so like her grandmother’s.

  ‘I think Jax suits you.’

  ‘Me too. So you’re Frances, and I’m Jax, and that’s that.’

  Frances pushed out a giggle. A real, thirteen-year-old giggle. Amusement even lit her eyes and made the blue flecks sparkle.

  ‘I could never have talked to Linda about getting boobs,’ she said. ‘Oh, I have my period,’ she added, looking a bit shy suddenly. ‘Did you know?’

  ‘Yes, I knew.’

  ‘Did they tell you?’ Her face fell, as though she were ashamed.

  ‘They wouldn’t have told me things like that. I know because we’re two females living in the same house.’

  ‘Oh, right. Even just in eight days?’

  Jax nodded. ‘It happens.’

  Frances’s focus moved over Jax’s face, her expression serious. ‘I don’t think I want to see my dad.’

  Jax took a moment to take that in. ‘That’s fine. Nobody will force you to.’

  ‘What if I change my mind?’

  ‘That’s fine too. We’ll work it as it happens.’

  Jax found her shoulders relaxing when the worry in Frances’s features eased.

  ‘Will Rosie really go with me to get my hair cut?’

  ‘If you want her to.’

  ‘I do actually quite like chocolate buttons.’

  Jax smiled. So many questions suddenly. Frances was talking and engaging. ‘Let’s call Rosie and get her to send us all ice-cream sundaes, with a whole packet of chocolate buttons on top.’

  Frances returned the smile, her eyes brighter and keener than Jax had ever seen them. ‘What else have we got to learn about each other?’ she asked.

  Jax pulled her in and hugged her tightly, then kissed her cheek, the way she’d longed to the day Frances went to school for the first time. ‘I don’t know, darling. Everything.’ Pleasure soared inside her, as though the kite had been freed, swirling up and up to the warmth of the sun.

  ‘Can I ask you something personal?’ Frances said.

  ‘Anything.’

  ‘Are you going to marry Jack?’

  This was more difficult than answering questions about God, or about Michael. She had to ensure Frances didn’t get too attached to Jack, because he couldn’t possibly stay here. But neither could she put Jack on a back burner and dismiss him. He’d done so much for her and for Frances.

  �
�Are you?’ Frances asked.

  Jax was bereft of explanation. ‘Let’s not worry about things like that just yet.’

  Frances was beginning to understand that she needed to take the time to love and care for herself, and also allow others to love her. She’d started to build a new world for herself. She had at last begun to see the pathway she’d been pushed down in a new, positive light.

  If she took Frances away from all this, to the bigger towns and cities, it would take so much longer for her to heal.

  It can’t be Jack.

  But how she wanted it to be Jack.

  Twenty-Four

  There was so much red dust on the bonnet of the white troop wagon, Jack could hardly distinguish it from the orangey-red dirt beneath the tyres. He hit the wiper blades and washed the windscreen.

  He and Donna, with Will and Davidson some distance behind them, were two hours and almost 150 kilometres from Mt Maria. Johnson and Louie were up ahead by about forty or fifty kilometres.

  Louie called in on the sat phone.

  ‘Roadhouse just called me. A man of Bivic’s description stopped for fuel just now. He didn’t talk to the owners. No pleasantries.’

  That meant Bivic was over an hour and a half ahead of them. ‘Was he with anyone?’

  ‘Two other vehicles. Three males. Bivic was overheard telling them to get off his back and not follow him. They’re still at the roadhouse.’

  They had no way of letting Will and Davidson know this, due to still being out of mobile phone or radio range, and Jack didn’t want to stop.

  He still had a feeling Bivic intended to stick to the Northern Territory when he got to the border. There’d been enough activity to indicate he might have interests there. Cash. Gear. Weapons. Gang affiliates. People who could hide him. But there was no way he’d make it through to wherever he was going without being spotted by the Walkertown Police. And there was no way Bivic was going to hand himself in without a fight. Jack was sure he’d be armed.