Blood Ties (38 page)

I stretched, all my injuries protesting at the motion. I had to keep moving or I’d seize up, so I forced myself out of bed to at least go for a walk. I had my usual glass of juice and discovered a note on the kitchen bench addressed to me in Jake’s careful scrawl. Sitting on top of the note in a glass of water was a fresh-picked golden hibiscus from my mother’s long-neglected flower garden.

Tessie my darling

Your so beautiful when you sleep. I love you. I wont see you for weeks, but I’ll be thinking about you all the time. Dont forget to ring me & email me,
every day
!!! I love you. I know I alreddy wrote that.

Lots and lots of love Jake xxxx

I smiled as I read that note, spelling mistakes and all, especially loving the hand-drawn lovehearts surrounding it. I clutched it to my chest as I opened the back door to look outside. It was a beautiful morning – the sun was shining, the sky was a brilliant cloudless blue, the kookaburras were going insane with laughter in the nearby gum trees, the magpies were warbling on the ground searching for grubs and the chooks were clucking contentedly. I went out and collected the five eggs, fed and watered my girls, set them free from their coop, then went inside again and dressed in my running gear. When I limped to my gate, Romi was there, but not the Sarge.

“Oh Tessie, you look so terrible!” she hugged me tightly, sobbing, fat luxuriant tears rolling down her cheeks when she saw me, not thinking for a moment about the effect that might have on my self-esteem. “Abe had to tell me ten times that you were okay before I could believe him, because those Bycraft kids were telling everyone at school that Red Bycraft had killed you. I was crying so much that they had to ring Abe to come and collect me.”

“No sweetie,” I replied calmly, touched. “Here I am, still alive. Red Bycraft didn’t kill me.”

Yet.

We set off together, and I warned her that I could only walk, but assured that I was still determined to make the fun run, regardless of everything. We walked briskly, despite my continuing pain and complaining muscles. I was self-conscious, feeling the eyes of the few people who drove past us lingering on my facial injuries, sympathetic but curious. I wasn’t sure if I was going to go to work today. I was entitled to some sick leave, surely.

To hide my insecurity, I listened attentively to Romi all the way as she confided everything about her life, her thoughts and her current idols, one of who was still clearly the Sarge. She brought him up in conversation every couple of minutes.

“Romi,” I said, not wanting to do it, but it was best that she found out from me and the sooner the better by the sound of it. “The Sarge told me something very interesting about himself yesterday.”
God, was it only yesterday?
I thought to myself in surprise.

“What?” she asked breathlessly, pretty blue eyes huge. I had her undivided attention as we walked.

“He’s engaged to be married,” I told her and felt like a monster as I watched her face instantly crumple in a study of intense emotional teenage pain. And hating myself, I embellished further, hopefully crushing those feelings forever. “He can’t wait for her to join him here in town. Maybe they’ll get married here? Wouldn’t that be romantic?”

“Yes,” was all she said, in a small, quiet voice. She didn’t speak much for the rest of our walk. We parted at my gate and she rode off on her bike, her shoulders slumped in dejection, for once politely declining to join me for breakfast.
Poor little thing
, I thought, leaning on my gate watching after her. Being a romantic teenager could be so hard sometimes, especially living in a small town where you were usually bored with the boys you’d grown up with and were longing for someone new and exciting to come along. It was a blow to all the single women in the town to have an eligible man like the Sarge join the community and then to learn that he wasn’t free. More than a few dreams would be crushed by that bit of news, I suspected.

I had a shower and an easy breakfast of Weet-Bix and a glass of orange juice. I still hadn’t decided whether I’d go to work today and was mulling over the pros and cons, sipping the juice carefully through my sore lips, when the phone rang. I moved as quickly as was possible for me to get to it before it woke Dad up.

It was the Sarge, checking that I was coming into work.

“I can’t make up my mind,” I admitted. “I’m so battered that I should probably give my poor body a rest and stay home for a few days. The doctor told me to take it easy for a while.”

“If anyone deserves some time off, it’s certainly you,” he agreed.

Rare vanity overcame my better sense and I blurted, “Plus, I look so awful. I don’t want anyone to see me. Everyone was staring at me this morning when Romi and I went for a walk.”

“You don’t want those Bycrafts to think that they have you beaten though, do you?” he asked slyly.

I knew I was being manipulated, but I couldn’t stop the tide of rebellion that washed over me at his words. “Of course I don’t, but –”

“You don’t want them to think they have you too scared to show your face around town, do you?”

I replied heatedly, “I’m not scared of them.”

“You better come to work then and show them that you’re not.”

“I know you’re using psychology on me,” I said angrily. “And I hate the fact that it’s working.”

He laughed, a pleasant warm chuckle down the line into my ear. “See you soon, Tess.”

I was dressed, kitted up and ready to head out the door when Dad awoke. He rolled up to me in dismay, taking my hand and squeezing hard.

“You’re not going to work are you, Tessie love? You need to recuperate,” he protested. “Stay home and let me look after you, for once.”

“Dad, if I don’t get back on the horse, everyone will think I’ve lost my nerve. I won’t let those Bycrafts think for one second that they’ve got the better of me,” I answered, grabbing the keys to the Land Rover and planting a kiss on his forehead. He knew there was no point arguing with me once I’d made up my mind. I was a lot like him in that respect, he’d acknowledged ruefully one day. Unhappily, he rolled onto the veranda to watch me leave and his furrowed face full of worry was the last thing I saw in the rearview mirror as I drove out of the gates, waving.

When I arrived at the station, the Sarge wasn’t even there I noted with indignation. He had hurried me into work, but then decided to dawdle himself. When I walked into the back room, I stopped. Someone had been in there after we’d left last night – the back door was wide open. I knew we’d locked it when we’d all departed the previous evening, because I’d watched the Sarge checking it.

Warily I scanned the tiny office, gun out, almost expecting a Bycraft to jump out at me at any second from thin air. I didn’t see anything astray until I cast my eyes over the safe. It was open, the door hanging crookedly from its hinges. There was a faint smell of something unfamiliar, metallic, in the air. I crouched down in front of the safe, careful not to touch anything and noticed that one hinge and the locking mechanism were now damaged. Inconceivable as it seemed, someone had blown our safe and I was reasonably sure that it wasn’t a coincidence it had happened the same day a very large amount of money had been handed into the station.

The Sarge would turn up at any minute, so I didn’t bother ringing him. I’d show him when he arrived. It wasn’t as if the safecracker had got away with anything, because the Sarge had taken the money and Stacey’s little gun to Big Town yesterday for safer keeping and there had been nothing else inside. So I put my gun back in my belt and spent ten minutes righting the room and sweeping up the potting mix mess on the floor I’d made. Finished, I went to the kitchenette to make some tea, not even sure if I’d be able to sip a hot drink through my busted lip. Today it felt ten times bigger than normal. Closing the back door, I caught a glimpse of myself in the age-spotted mirror fixed to the rear of the door. It wasn’t a pretty sight and I regretted coming into work. It would have been smarter to hide under my bed for a couple of weeks until I looked better.

I filled up the kettle and switched it on. When I opened the cupboard for a tea bag, I was greeted with a marvellous surprise. The whole top shelf was now crammed with packets of Tim Tams. There must have been thirty packets in there at least, every variety known to humans – the double chocolate, the rocky road, the mint, the caramel, the white chocolate, the honeycomb, as well as the very delicious and perfect original. Laughter exploded from me and I couldn’t stop for ages even though it made every sore part of my body complain. I leaned helplessly on the sink, tears rolling down my cheeks, my body aching badly with each laugh.

“What’s so funny?” a voice asked from behind me. I jumped in fright, my laughter drying up immediately and spun around, gun out before I could even think. I hadn’t heard anyone coming in, which I reminded myself, was exactly how I was ambushed yesterday.

It was just the Sarge. I leaned back on the sink heavily in relief, my hand up to my thudding heart. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” I snapped at him angrily. “You scared me half to death. I nearly shot you.” I re-holstered my gun.

“I’m sorry, Tess,” he said, hands up in appeasement, realising how much he’d frightened me. “I wasn’t sneaking around I promise, but you were laughing so hard I don’t think you heard me come in.”

“I didn’t mean to bite your head off,” I apologised. “I’m a bit jumpy at the moment.”

“Understandable,” he said, leaning on the sink next to me.

“I was laughing about the Tim Tams.” I turned back to look at them again. “Thanks Sarge. That’s so nice of you.”

“I felt guilty about eating your last one.”

“So you bought me thirty packets to make up for it?” I smiled. “That’s a bit of overkill, wouldn’t you say?”

He shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Only seemed fair. It was the last one, after all.”

“You must have cleaned out the supermarket.”

“I never do things by halves.” He lowered his voice to a confidential whisper, his eyes shifting from side to side. “But I’ve heard on the grapevine that there is now an official Tim Tam drought in Little Town.”

I giggled at his unexpected silliness and he smiled at me warmly as if pleased that he’d lightened my life for a small moment. I appreciated the effort and felt a tiny crack forming in the thick Antarctic ice sheet of our relationship. I wondered if he felt it too.

If so, he didn’t show it, so I pushed aside my fanciful thoughts and told him about the safe. We crouched down together to examine it and he rang up the Big Town forensics leader and asked a team to come and dust the door and safe for prints. She couldn’t tell us when a team would be available but promised to log the job straight away, piggybacking on the other two jobs we’d already logged.

“You did the right thing taking the money to Big Town yesterday, otherwise it would have been stolen,” I said to him.

“No, I didn’t,” he argued, with that same strange, closed expression on his face he’d had last night. “I left you alone when I should have stayed. If I had a choice, it would have been for the money to be stolen rather than you being attacked.”

Without any warning, he stepped in closer to me and grabbed my chin in his hand, gazing intently into my face. I was startled and disconcerted by his intimate touch. I was about to push him away violently and tell him in no uncertain terms that he could bloody well keep his hands to himself, thawing ice sheet or not, when he turned my head one way then the other, peering closely with detachment the whole time. He let me go and stepped backwards.

“You’re bruising up nicely around the eye and nose. You’ll look like a rainbow tomorrow.”

“Oh joy,” I said sarcastically. “Every woman’s dream.”

He was about to move away when he stopped and turned back towards me, peering closely at me again. He slid the collar of my shirt aside slightly, his fingers warm on my skin, and frowned.

“Tess, you didn’t tell the Inspector that one of them grabbed you around the neck.”

“Yes, I did. Red tried to throttle me.”

“No, I can see those bruises – they’re finger-shaped. This is lower. You have a series of little bruises on the bottom of your neck. They must be from yesterday. You didn’t have them earlier.”

My cheeks pinkened.
Dear God
, I thought,
how embarrassing.

“They must be from the fight,” he persisted. “We should ring up the Inspector to tell her. I’ll take some photos for evidence.”

I wished the ground would swallow me up and save me from this awkward situation.

“Sarge . . .” I began. He stared at me expectantly. “No need to ring. They’re not from the Bycrafts. Um . . . crap, that’s not quite true. They’re from one Bycraft. Oh God, this is so embarrassing.” I took a deep breath. “Jake stayed over at my place last night.”

He looked at me blankly.

“I took the Inspector’s advice.”

He frowned in puzzlement. He wasn’t making this easy for me.

“Her advice about taking my mind off what had happened to me yesterday?” I reminded him desperately. “Jake was a little . . . um . . . over-passionate.”

Comprehension dawned slowly on his face, swiftly followed by embarrassment and another couple of emotions I couldn’t decipher.

“Oh,” he said. I could feel my cheeks flaming. “Sorry.” We stood there ill at ease with each other for a moment. “Guess you don’t want me to take any photos?”