by Jane Cousins
To think she’d almost made a mistake a hundred times more colossal than marrying Robert Granger… giving her heart to Ramsey Hughes. She felt fragile, lost and kind of annoyed… anger beginning to simmer in her gut.
“You okay sweetie?” Margot asked, her voice laden with concern.
Berry straightened her spine. “So tell me about this cocktail party?”
* * *
There was no point in him going home. Three separate individuals had already taken great delight in sharing the news that Berry had been seen leaving his apartment with her Great-Great-Aunts, loaded down with luggage. Biting back a frustrated sigh, Ramsey reached over and switched on his desk lamp, attempting to chase the lengthening evening shadows away.
Absently he shifted through the folders on his desk. His instincts were pinging and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something just didn’t add up in this case. What was he missing? What was the connection between Robert Granger and Gerard Bannon that led them to the Southern Sanctuary? What had Granger hoped to achieve by kidnapping his ex-wife? He had to know she wouldn’t go willingly. According to Berry, Granger didn’t know about her magic, he just believed she was some kind of psychic. How had he expected to benefit from her supposed powers? Granger wasn’t a tough guy, was that why he needed Gerry, to strong arm Berry?
Ramsey’s mind was churning with questions, but it was better than thinking about Berry. Wondering for the hundredth time, why she’d shut him out? Acted so weird? Been so abrupt? Something to do with Alma Richart he thought… who he’d seen plotting with Adelaide, Daphne and Margot. Now he was getting fanciful… plotting? The foursome had just been chatting… furtively chatting. Damn, that line of thought was getting him nowhere. He shoved back his chair to fetch more coffee, determined to work out just what he was missing in Robert Granger’s file.
Two hours later, his stomach was grumbling from too much caffeine, his eyes felt gritty and his back was strained. He bit back an oath at the files he’d spread out over the top of his desk. Why couldn’t he see it? Whatever ‘it’ was?
He tensed, but didn’t jump as an all black cat suddenly leapt on to his desk. Staring at him with disdainful green eyes. “Fuck! Where did you come from?” Ramsey frowned. “Shoo.”
The cat hissed and arched its back.
“Everything okay, Chief?” Tanner Bright appeared in the doorway, his friendly smile abruptly disappearing as he noted the furry intruder. “Um, I’d be careful there if I were you Chief. That’s Limbo, he can be kind of nasty.”
“It’s just a cat.” Ramsey matched the cat glare for glare.
Tanner hesitated. “You need any help?” There was genuine reluctance in his officer’s tone.
“No, I’ve got it. You can get back to what you were doing.” Ramsey dismissed him.
“Just know I’m here if you need help getting to the hospital Chief.” Tanner flashed him a grin before disappearing fast.
Cheeky bastard. “Why is everyone around here so scared of you? You’re just one annoyingly intrusive cat.” Ramsey eyed Limbo.
Limbo meowed, without warning two more cats leapt onto Ramsey’s desk, standing shoulder to shoulder with Limbo.
“So you bought back-up. Must be serious?” Ramsey made the last question a joke but he could have sworn that the trio on his desk all nodded in agreement. “You know you guys are freaky right?” Ramsey queried out loud.
Ramping up the freaky knob, the ginger cat on the left tilted its head to the side and eyed him with a ‘right back at you’ jaundiced look.
Great, now he was talking to cats and starting to believe they could understand him. But hey, why not? It was just one more t to cross on his mental instability certificate. Ramsey continued to eye the three feline intruders speculatively. Could they…? Would they…? No harm in asking right?
“Instead of loitering with intent, why don’t the three of you make yourselves useful and help me solve this case.”
Limbo who appeared to be the ringleader meowed softly and the trio got to their feet and began stalking back and forth across his desk, over paperwork, over his keyboard… not making a mess but it kind of made Ramsey nervous watching them move with such studied intent.
The white cat with dark patches dismissively batted aside Robert Granger’s file while Limbo eyed Gerard Bannon’s file intently for a brief second before moving to sit directly on top of Previn Carlyle’s file. That could mean something or it could just mean Limbo was bored or tired and just wanted to sit down. This was a cat, freaky or not, that he was talking about here.
What was definitely not cat like behaviour was the ginger cat’s focus on his computer mouse, instead of batting it around, the cat was tapping it with its paw, causing his screen to flick back through earlier searches. It might have just been a coincidence but at one stage the cat gave a frustrated meow as the screen went too far and he had to move the mouse ever so slightly to the left and click it again until the screen flipped back to his search on Salem.
All three cats froze in place and eyed him, as if to say ‘well, we’ve done all we can for you now Bozo. If you can’t get this, you simple human, you are too stupid to live’.
Ramsey eyed the screen, Previn Carlyle’s file and the cats. “Carlyle? You think Carlyle’s involved in this as well?”
Limbo snorted softly with what sounded distinctly like derision, nodding at the white patched cat who immediately reached out and batted Robert Granger’s file even closer to the edge of his desk. Then suddenly tensed its back legs and made quite an impressive leap across the room to land on top of the fax machine, which instantly whirred to life. Shit, he hadn’t realised the damn thing had been switched off as paper immediately began spewing into the tray.
“Carlyle, not Granger?”
Limbo purred.
Ramsey pushed back his chair and scooped up the newly arrived faxes. Hmmm, nothing of importance, just the Northern Territory police bragging about capturing Robert Granger. Ramsey plucked the shot of Granger recently taken by the NT police and stared at it. Pale, haughty… soft. Granger looked a little strung out, as if being on the run hadn’t agreed with him. Something about the photo bothered him… the hair! Mac McKenzie had said the pharmacy reported hair dye being shoplifted, yet Granger’s hair was the same pale blonde it had always been.
Ramsey sat back down, drumming his fingers on the table. He supposed it could have been Carlyle in the outdoor store video, stealing the sleeping bag and tent. He was the right height and if he padded his clothes, the build would fit as well. Like Gerry Bannon he would have had to have listened to Granger’s stories every night about his horse race wins and his gifted wife. He must have done a search on Berry’s family tree, traced her mother’s maiden name, Bright, back to the group who high tailed it out of Salem when the first witch trial commenced. He had to believe Berry was some sort of witch… it wouldn’t have been too hard for someone of Carlyle’s manipulative scheming nature to play on Gerry Bannon’s mental instability and rope him into joining forces. Carlyle was white collar crime smart, but he would have needed someone like Gerry, with street smarts, to watch his back in prison. When that storm hit and the wall collapsed, Gerry would have made a savvy partner to hook up with to travel north.
All three cats suddenly flicked their ears, arching their backs. Hearing or sensing something that Ramsey was unable too, except suddenly his gut was churning and every instinct he had was flaring. “Something’s wrong.”
Limbo huffed, a noise that kind of sounded like ‘duh, dude’.
“Berry.” It wasn’t a question, he just knew. Whatever was going on, it had something to do with Berry.
* * *
Berry gripped her champagne flute tighter glaring unseeingly at the enormous canvas hanging in front of her.
“Really makes you think, huh?”
She blinked slowly, looking to her left at the man currently standing at her side. He was a few years younger than her and a few inches shorter. He seemed pleasant and harml
ess but she wasn’t in the mood to chat, she just wanted to brood and simmer in peace. She switched her attention back to the canvas before them and really looked at it, ugh.
“I… I… I mean it’s a reflection of life… isn’t it?” Her new companion managed to stammer out. “Whimsical, irreverent… childlike.”
Berry drained the remainder of her champagne, plunking her empty glass down on a passing waiter’s tray and scooping up a fresh glass. “They’re sparkly flying unicorns farting rainbows… that’s really rather disturbing.” She glared down at him before swivelling on her high heels and stomping away.
At the back of the gallery she found a nice dark corner. Hopefully her hiding spot would conceal her from her Great-Great-Aunts, who kept sending young highly unsuitable men her way. It also meant she could continue to avoid her mother-in-law, Joanne, and her date for the evening. A nice enough man, an artist from Sydney spending a few months sabbatical in Reverie Valley. Berry was sure he was very pleasant, but she wasn’t in the mood for small talk or being polite.
How dare her family interfere in her life. Her love life!
And not just her life, Ramsey’s as well. It was one thing for Alma to uproot Ramsey from Melbourne, his life, his job, but had Alma known by bringing him here that he would be putting his life on the line? That he would be shot at? That if Berry hadn’t stepped in and taken the bullet meant for him, Ramsey would have in all likelihood died? Just how deep a game did Alma play? Did she just hook up couples and let fate take it from there, or was it more involved, pulling the strings constantly, actually getting her hands dirty… bloody? She had a good mind to bring Alma up on accessory to commit murder charges. That would teach her Great-Aunt to interfere.
And just who in the hell was Alma to say that Ramsey was wrong for her?
She wasn’t a child. She was a lawyer, a judge, an adult. She’d more than earnt the right to make her own mistakes. Look at her track record. She’d totally owned the fact that by not following her instincts she’d made a horrendous mistake marrying Robert. But she’d learnt from that episode, hadn’t she? Like everyone did when they made mistakes. She’d picked herself up, dusted herself off and gotten on with her life. Lesson learnt. Her judgement just couldn’t be trusted. She’d proven that twice over.
First with her marriage and then in the courtroom the day of the reading of the charges against Robert. She’d been sitting there thinking that her - doomed from the start - marriage had finally had the last nail driven into its metaphorical coffin when across the court room she’d spied Ramsey in his rugged scruffy undercover role and felt an instant attraction. And she’d been appalled with herself. Appalled that she could be attracted to a criminal… again! There and then, she’d sworn off men for life. Funny how she’d come full circle because of Ramsey Hughes.
But hold on, she’d been attracted to a GOOD guy. There was no denying it. Ramsey Hughes was definitely a good guy. You could see it in his eyes, a moral code. A stand up for the little guy, refuse to back down - bone deep - core. How he was good at undercover work she’d never know, all you had to do was look into those slate grey eyes and you could instantly see he was on the side of right.
Sweet Merciful Lady, her instincts were good. She just needed to listen to them. If she had, she would never have married Robert and she would have trusted that there was some alternative explanation as to why a man she was instantly attracted to was in a court room having charges read against him.
That’s why she’d slept with Ramsey, because she knew she could trust him. That he wouldn’t hurt her. She didn’t have to tread carefully around him. She could be herself. She didn’t have to smile all the time or be nice to keep the peace. He laughed at her when she grumped at him. He even seemed happy to argue with her, as if he knew that was the way she needed to let off steam occasionally. He teased and challenged her and not just in the bedroom. That was why she liked him… oh Goddess, she loved him. She loved Ramsey Hughes. It felt amazing to admit it, like flying and then she found herself plummeting back to reality.
Ramsey didn’t love her.
Her Great-Great-Aunts had proven that with their magic. He’d drunk the potion… nothing. He’d worn the cuff links… nothing. He’d eaten the cookie… nothing.
Oh Heavens, Alma had been wrong… worse than wrong. Ramsey Hughes might be the love of her life but for all his talk about her being his dream woman, the Great-Great-Aunts had proven Ramsey wrong. She wasn’t the love of his life. He might want her. Be sexually attracted to her. But he didn’t love her, the Aunts had proven that with their magic.
“Berry… Berry…”
She blinked and met the worried gaze of Jo-Jo’s new artist beau. “Sorry… Colin?” She couldn’t remember his last name, breathing through her mouth as his expensive cologne engulfed her, making her eyes want to water. Yeah, blame the cologne Berry, like you weren’t about to sob like a baby.
“It’s Joanne, she’s not feeling very well. I thought I’d drive her home but I think I might need some help getting her to the car.”
Berry ruthlessly shoved aside all her problems, back straight, head held high. “Of course, lead the way.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Where can I find Berry Malone?” Ramsey loomed over Maureen’s desk as he shrugged into his jacket.
“Chief?” Maureen felt the tension in the station change at Ramsey’s terse tone.
“Berry Malone?” Ramsey snapped her name again. Tanner, across the station, stood up and began pulling on his own jacket.
“Um… at Reverie Valley, with Adelaide, Daphne and Margot. At an art gallery viewing.” Maureen was starting to look worried.
“Call the Valley sub-station. Get Tamara or Jillian over to the gallery. When they find Berry, I want them to sit on her, understood?”
Maureen was nodding even as she hit speed dial on her desk phone.
“Problem, Chief?” Tanner sidled up next to Ramsey.
“Yeah. I don’t think Granger is behind the snatch and grab attempt on Berry. I think it’s Previn Carlyle. I’m pretty sure he’s changed his appearance and has been hanging out around Reverie Valley waiting for another chance at Berry.”
“Damn, I’ll contact Benedict. He’s out driving patrol.”
Ramsey nodded, absently checking his holstered gun whilst digging into his pocket for his car keys with his other hand. “Have Benedict swing by and pick you up, then I want you two headed for Reverie Valley. When you get there, set up patrol on the South Road. If any strange vehicles try to leave the District, I want them stopped and searched.”
Tanner nodded, reaching for his walkie talkie. “What about you Chief?”
“I’ll follow you in my car and co-ordinate with Jillian and Tamara. Once we have Berry locked down we can start searching the Valley camping grounds, rentals and empty houses. Maureen?” He turned to look her way. “Call Mac and Cam in. Tell them what’s going on. I’ll meet them at the gallery. Can you text me the address?”
Ramsey didn’t wait to hear her response. Maureen was competent and fast, he trusted her to send the information he needed and to rally the team. Thank God she’d decided to work back late tonight. Or perhaps it was just part of her magic, being in the right place at the right time to be at ground zero of any breaking development in the Sanctuary.
By the time Ramsey was pulling out of the staff parking lot in his cruiser, Benedict had arrived at the station to collect Tanner. Once they were out of the town centre Ramsey appreciated when Benedict put his foot down hard on the accelerator, the two cars eating up the miles fast as they headed for Reverie Valley. Even so, it didn’t feel anywhere near fast enough for Ramsey.
They were at the half-way mark when Ramsey’s CB radio crackled to life and Maureen was advising that Tamara was at the gallery and there was no sign of Berry anywhere. Fuck! Where could she be? Did Carlyle already have her? His thoughts were churning so hard he almost missed the rest of Maureen’s update.
“Say again Maureen.”
“Joanne Granger is missing too, Chief. Maybe they just left together.”
Ramsey gripped his steering wheel tighter, his foot pushing down on the brake. His gut was telling him that there was no point in him travelling to the art gallery. He pulled the cruiser over to the side of the road, picking up the CB handset.
“Get Tamara to question the crowd, maybe someone saw them leave… can give us a direction. Tanner? You and Benedict stay on plan. They might be ahead of us now but I still want you to set up a South Road check point. Maureen, tell Mac and Cam to standby. I’ll advise as soon as I have a heading for them.”
Ramsey turned off the CB and sat in the dark by the side of the long empty road listening to the tick of the car’s cooling engine. He had to go with his gut that the worst case scenario was in play. Previn Carlyle had Berry and possibly Joanne. The conman wouldn’t take them back to where ever he’d been staying, he’d want to keep on the move… escape. He’d had plenty of time to put a plan in place. A hostage, let alone two, in a car was a bad bet… too many variables and hard to control, even if you insisted one of them drive. Unless you stuffed them in the trunk. Still, Carlyle was a white collar criminal, he wouldn’t think like a mobster, so what did that leave them with?
Boats! Damn, he’d originally thought Robert Granger had been doing an internet search on boats but what if he’d been doing so as a favour for his cell mate Carlyle. Berry had said that Granger didn’t like the water so there was no logical reason for him to be looking around online for boats, especially since he was captured two thousand miles inland at an airstrip. Boats! Carlyle was after a boat.
He knew where the bastard was headed. With that in mind he started the engine with a roar and whipped the car back around to head towards Haven Bay. Picking up his CB handset he advised Mac and Cam McKenzie of where he was headed and that they were to meet him there. Haven Bay Marina… of course.
* * *
Berry woke, her head throbbing, her eyes bleary and her stomach churning as the room around her rocked and swayed. No, not a room, a boat. Goddess where was she? What happened? She remembered helping Colin Prescott walk Joanne to his car, then… nothing. Goddess, where was Joanne? Was she alright? Why couldn’t she move her hands or her feet?
