by Lilly Mirren
"Fine, I'm not very good at the undercover stuff, but I'm all you've got, Miss Flannigan."
She nodded. "Ain't that the truth. Okay. I'll stay on Thad. You watch Crystal."
He grinned and gave a mock salute. "Yes, ma'am."
She poked out her tongue, then turned to watch Thad, who was behind the bar mixing drinks for the throng of thirsty customers.
"Good turnout tonight," she mused.
Mick grunted in response. "A little too good. From what your mum said, the B&B hasn't been doing this kind of business."
"Not in a while, at least," Sarah agreed. "Hold on, Thad's on the move. I'm going to follow him. You stay here and keep an eye on Crystal."
"Ten-four," he replied.
She rolled her eyes, wishing he could see how unimpressed she was in the darkness. Still, he was pretty cute in his black shirt and black knit hat, even if he was wearing board shorts and sandals to complete the outfit.
She bent low and loped after Thad, who strode from the cafe and headed down the road to the main street where most of the tourists who visited Emerald Cove spent their evenings.
When she caught up, she found him handing out flyers, taking money and pointing tourists towards the cafe. She stopped a young couple with a wave.
"Hey, what's that guy selling?" she asked.
The man grinned. "He sold us this card, said if we go to the cafe down the road and show it at the bar, we get half-priced drinks and food, plus live music. Pretty good deal. Only cost us thirty bucks."
"Thanks," she said, anger already sparking in her gut.
He was selling room keys to tourists. That was how so many were coming to the cafe and the takings were too low for the number of customers. Thad was stealing from her mother. Dad had done it, now Thad was doing it. Anger made her cheeks burn.
She jogged back to the cafe and told Mick what she'd seen.
"Well done, Sassy. You figured it out."
She frowned. "Yeah, but he's been stealing from Mum, for who knows how long."
“And now you know what the problem is you can fix it. In my books, that's a pretty great result."
She grinned. "Yeah?"
He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. His breath was hot on her cheek as his lips found their way to her skin. "Yeah," he whispered.
The excitement of the night had her feeling carefree, adventurous. Like she could do anything, be anyone. It wasn't like her to stake out businesses, stalk criminals, all dressed in black, or follow thieves through the dark of night. Perhaps she was a different person than she'd believed all along. Maybe she could dive into relationships with her eyes squeezed shut, not overthinking the consequences, instead letting the moment, the attraction, the passion carry her forward. Maybe she could be someone else, not the always-sensible, ever-responsible Sarah Flannigan, but someone who let their heart lead the way.
She let her eyes drift shut as a shudder of anticipation worked from her toes to the top of her head, and when his lips found hers, she kissed him back then stood on tiptoe for more.
Chapter 37
Franklin
The coffee had grown cold waiting. Franklin swished the contents of the cup around, watching the tan liquid growing more tepid with each swirl. He grimaced and set the cup down as a tall man with a stomach protruding over a pair of blue board shorts and beneath a too-tight t-shirt with a surfboard on it strode into the cafe.
Franklin stood to shake his hand. "Mack, it's good to see you. It's been too long."
Mack grinned, squeezing his hand until Franklin thought the bones might break. "You too, Frank, how long? A year? More?"
"I think it's been about that. Last time I came to Sydney for that meeting of senior officers…"
"Oh yeah, that's right."
Mack waved a hand at the cafe's only waitress then sat across from him. She hurried over, wiping her hands on her apron, then took his order and left.
"How's the family?" Franklin asked.
Mack's head bobbed up and down as he spoke, almost as if he was agreeing with everything as it came from his mouth. "Great. Just great. We love it up here. We're staying at Coolangatta, and the surf's fantastic. My girls love the beach, and the weather of course. Can't beat it. Right?"
"How long do you have?" Franklin asked.
"We're only here for a week, unfortunately. Wish it was longer, but you know how it is. Can't afford more than that on my salary." Mack laughed, patting his rotund belly as it jiggled.
"I hear you," Franklin replied.
They exchanged small talk for fifteen minutes before Franklin felt comfortable broaching the subject he'd called Mack to discuss. It made him squirm in his seat a little to ask the question, but he convinced himself it was for the safety of his team. If he and his crew didn't know who they were working alongside, it put all of them at risk.
"So, I wanted to ask you about Rebecca Mair again…" he began.
Mack's eyes narrowed. "Oh yeah, your new recruit. How's she going?"
Franklin shrugged. "Fine, I guess. I wish she was about six-four and one hundred kilograms, but I guess you can't always get everything you're looking for in the one recruit. She's pleasant enough to work with and seems to have a bit of a knack for reading people."
"Good, good," Mack replied, taking a last swig of his almost empty coffee cup.
"I was hoping…now we're face-to-face…you might have a little more you can tell me about her. She's tight-lipped about her past, there's nothing in her file. I don't know where she came from, who she is really…why she's a cop. She won't open up to me, and I'm old-fashioned enough to believe I should get to know my partner if we're going to work together so closely."
Mack's smile faded. "If she doesn't want to talk about it…"
"I get that." Franklin swallowed his frustration. "Only, I don't feel comfortable around her. And you know what that can mean for a partnership."
"Dangerous, is what it is," Mack muttered. He shook his head. "Look, I pulled her file when I spoke to you on the phone. There's stuff in there I could tell you, but it's marked confidential. You know me, I'd usually tell you anything you want to know, but not when it's stamped like that. I can't budge on this one, Frank."
Franklin's lips pursed. He pushed back from the table with a sigh, crossed one leg over the other. "Okay, I guess that's that then."
Mack leaned forward. "I will tell you this - give her a chance. She deserves that. There's nothing in the file that means you can't trust her, there's no reason not to. I'm telling you that as a friend. I'm also asking you not to be too hard on her. Show her the ropes. No one's better to do that than you. She could be a good cop. But not if you don't give her a chance."
Franklin inhaled a sharp breath. "Well, if you say so."
Mack gave a quick nod. "I do."
"Fine."
They said their goodbyes, and Franklin marched to his cruiser, his head spinning with questions. He hadn't gotten the answers he'd been looking for. Everything Mack said had only increased his curiosity. What would be so confidential that Mack couldn't talk about it, the same guy who leaked the entire promotions list two years earlier? He'd been lucky they didn't discover it was him.
Franklin slid into the cruiser, started the engine and sat staring out at the beach across the street. Dark clouds gathered on the horizon, swirling and churning as they made their way towards the shore. A brisk wind whipped the curling waves, frothing the edges into white bubbles.
Give her a chance.
That was what Mack had asked. Why? Give her a chance - what was that about? And since when did Mack ask him to give a break to a new recruit? Mack was the one in their graduating class voted most likely to razz on probies.
There was more to Rebecca Mair than he knew - it'd been a feeling before, something buried deep in his intuition. It'd sat in the back of his mind, itching but without any defined shape. Something was there, but maybe it was all in his imagination. But now there was no question in his mind about it
: Rebecca Mair was hiding something.
Chapter 38
Franklin
Back at the office, Franklin climbed from the cruiser and stood for a moment staring at the station. Inside, he knew he'd find people buzzing with activity, phones ringing, keyboards clicking. His shift was about to begin, so there'd be a changeover, and soon he'd be out in the car with his partner. She'd sit silently, staring out the window while the radio played. Beside her, he'd be wondering.
With a grunt, he slammed the car door shut and strode into the station. He waved hello to Stephanie, her auburn hair piled into a high bun. She waved back, the phone pressed to one ear.
He pressed his ID badge to the scanner on the wall, and the door buzzed open. He made his way directly to the small gym behind the offices. She was always there before her shift, working out in a way that seemed almost demented. Franklin was as concerned with his physical fitness as the next officer, but since her encounter with the perp who'd knocked her down, she'd taken to working out as if her life depended on it. And perhaps it did.
He ducked into the gym and walked down the short hall, the scent of damp socks and sweat tickling his nose as he turned the corner.
She was there, like he'd known she would be. Hands taped, she was hitting the swinging bag. Hard. Muscles bunched in her shoulders. Beneath the small crop top, her stomach was defined, hard. Her arms were still small, but hard, rounded muscles flexed beneath her creamy skin.
His lips pressed into a straight line as he watched her for a few moments. She'd transformed from a soft, pale woman into something hard, fit, determined. Almost a different person to the one who'd walked into the office four months earlier.
Just as she looked up and caught his eye, he spun on his heel and left, his jaw clenching.
Chapter 39
Meg
A crow cawed overhead, perched on a telephone line. It turned its head to the side, peered at Meg out of one black eye and cawed again. The sound of the bird's call echoed an aggravating echo through the valley behind her. A valley full of suburban homes dotted in amongst a blanket of greenery - palm trees, poinciana, jacaranda and bushy lilly pillies shaped into hedgerows.
The grass on the lawn at her feet was patchy green and brown together, like an unfinished quilt. It hadn't rained much lately, although it'd threatened plenty of times. Still, winter was around the corner and generally dry in Brisbane. She knew as much from the times she'd visited her mother during a short stint when she lived there right after the divorce. Although, she could count those times on one hand. Mum wasn't very interested in visits from her daughter or really anything at all to do with Meg, though she'd never admit that. She always claimed she was a good mother, said it over and over, trying to convince herself if no one else. Meg knew the truth. After all, she'd been raised by the woman.
With a sigh, she tented a hand over her face and started up the long, pebble-stone concrete driveway to the single-level red brick house. There was a cool breeze, but not cold enough to warrant a coat. She rubbed both palms down the front of her jeans; sweat broke out, refusing to be dried on the thin denim.
She raised a fist to knock on the timber door, waited a few moments then knocked again. The door swung open even as her hand poised for another try.
"Hello? Oh, Meg! You're here." Sharon swooped out and wrapped Meg up in her arms.
Meg blinked back tears. She didn't have a mother who cared enough to be there for her during the hardest moments of her life. But from the first time Brad had brought her home and introduced her to his parents, Sharon and Des had welcomed her into their home and their family. They'd been warm, kind and completely accepting, and it'd taken her by surprise. Then, she'd transitioned to an awkward phase, always waiting for them to change, for the masks to come down and the real Sharon and Des to appear. But it'd never happened. They'd continued to love her, much to her constant amazement. Now, she found she missed them. Missed having someone she could talk to, rely on, embrace.
"Oh, honey, I'm so glad to see you." Sharon wrapped one arm around Meg's waist and ushered her into the house.
The cool of the tiled entryway washed over her, along with the scent of vanilla with a touch of cinnamon from a nearby unlit candle nestled in a bed of sea glass on a small table set against the wall.
"I'm sorry I didn't call," Meg said, her lower lip quivering. "I wanted to see you, to see Brad. I've been reading his letters, but I miss him - all of you really. Miss seeing you."
Sharon shut the door behind them and led her into the kitchen. "Of course, love. You don't have to call. We're family, you can drop in any time you like. Now, Brad's out in the backyard swimming his laps. He'll be out there a few more minutes, I'd imagine. But that just gives us more time to catch up." She cupped both hands to Meg's face, her eyes glistening. "I'm so sorry for everything - the way things have turned out. How are you coping?"
Meg slid into a chair at the kitchen table with a shake of her head. "I don't know. I guess I'm okay, but it's hard. I thought I'd be married, living with the love of my life - I knew it was a fairy tale, but I was naïve enough to believe it might actually happen." She scrubbed both hands over her face. "I'm sorry, I know that's insensitive. It's not like I have to deal with being paralysed - Brad's been through so much more than I have."
"You don't have to apologise to me, love. We've all had to deal with more than we can bear."
Sharon skated around the kitchen, setting a kettle to boil and extracting a cake from a floral cake tin to set on a plate with familiar, deft movements.
"How…how is he?"
Sharon hesitated, offering a warm smile as she carried the cake to the table and set it in front of Meg. "He's much better than he was. Hawaii…well, it was awful. You know what he was like. He's coming to terms with what happened. At least, it seems that way. He won't talk to us about it much, but he's less angry, more determined…"
She poured them two cups of tea and carried them to the table, then sat across from Meg. "I don't want to say too much… He should tell you himself."
Meg sipped the tea, grimaced. It scalded her tongue, and she set it down again with a quick breath over the burned flesh to cool it.
"Too hot?" Sharon asked.
Meg only nodded, her tongue extended between her lips. "Burned my tongue," she said around it.
Sharon laughed, covered her mouth. "Sorry, I didn't mean to laugh, you just look so cute. I'll grab you some water."
Meg chuckled as well, then gulped the cold water down, feeling it soothe her tongue as it glided down her throat. "Ah, that's better. Thank you."
Sharon sat again and held the tea between her hands, watching Meg.
"It's like a metaphor for my relationship with Brad," she said with a shake of her head. "I rushed in and got burned."
Sharon reached out and patted her arm. "He didn't mean to hurt you… You know that, right?"
Meg nodded. "Of course, I know he didn't. And I feel selfish even saying anything about it after what he's been through. But I'm angry… I mean, we said vows to each other, and I meant those vows." Tears thickened her throat; her voice caught before she went on. "I mean, I promised to be by his side through sickness and health, and when that time came along, when the worst happened, he didn't give me a chance to keep those vows. He stole that from me." She couldn't hold back the sob that shook her entire body from head to toe. Tears trickled slowly down her cheeks. "I wanted to be there, I wanted to hold him, to kiss him, to tell him it would all be okay. But he didn't let me."
Another sob. Now her nose was running as well. She hadn't planned this. She'd come to Brisbane with the idea that she'd be cool, calm and open to a discussion. She wanted to talk to Brad, face-to-face, to find out if he truly wanted to get an annulment or if it was only the pain talking. Now, she was humiliating herself in front of his mother and couldn't seem to stop. The tears kept falling. She'd held them in for so much of the past months, ever since the accident, held it all together - she'd had to be strong for Bra
d, then for herself when everything balanced precariously on her narrow shoulders.
She'd always had to be strong. But Sharon's kindness had dislodged the plug that'd been holding her emotions at bay, and now they were tumbling out like eggs dropped from a carton - no matter how she tried, she couldn't catch them all before they hit the ground and smashed wide open.
Sharon moved to hug her from behind, then sat next to her and reached for her hand. "Oh, honey, it's not your fault."
Meg nodded but couldn't respond. Sharon tugged a dozen tissues from a nearby Kleenex box and handed them to Meg.
"Thank you." Meg wiped her cheeks dry, then blew her nose.
The back door opened, and Brad wheeled inside, up a small ramp that'd been added to the outside, and down another one on the inside. He stared in surprise at Meg, water dripping into his eyes from newly shorn hair. She hadn't ever seen him wear his hair so short before. It was darker and accentuated his light green eyes.
His brow furrowed. "Meg? What's wrong? What's going on?"
For a moment, she saw concern flit across his features, then he buried it beneath a scowl.
"Nothing's wrong. I came over to say hi, see how you're going."
He shrugged, wiped his hair dry with the towel draped around his shoulders. She caught a glimpse of the watch she’d given him for Christmas on his left wrist. "Fine. I'm fine. I'm going to get dressed."
He wheeled his chair down the hall and out of sight.
Meg pursed her lips. At least he'd been civil, and he was wearing the watch. For a moment there, he almost looked pleased to see her. But perhaps she was only imagining things.
When he returned, he was dressed in a blue t-shirt and jeans. His hair was spiked on end as if he'd run the towel over it and left it that way. He looked strong, healthy and tanned. He looked like the Brad she'd fallen in love with instead of the man who sat in the dark, shrinking from life while he watched television or barked at her.
