Cold Deception (15 page)

The late afternoon sun was still warm on Julia’s back. There was just enough time for a short walk in the bush. She’d go down the path from Gordon Falls and along the Prince Henry Cliff Walk.

She tried to thrust all thoughts of Blossom to the back of her mind and made her way down into the bush. Blossom would get over it. There was no reason for her to keep on about what happened that night in the face of Julia’s continual denials. At least she hoped that’s what would happen. The fact that memories were coming back to her wasn’t the end of the world. They could remain just that, memories. Douglas Sinclair would work with her and help her see they weren’t real. That had to be better than the truth, surely. The truth could tip her right over the edge, a place Blossom didn’t need any more exposure to.

The nagging worry about O’Reardon and the DVD he said he had was the beached whale at the back of her mind. What if he decided for some perverse and perverted reason of his own that it would be more fun to show Blossom the DVD? He admitted he enjoyed inflicting pain and that DVD was a whole world of pain for Blossom.

On the other hand, that fact that he had it at all compromised him. The only way he could’ve got it was taking it from the crime scene, an act that would attract criminal charges. He wouldn’t want that to happen. All in all, the DVD was probably safe enough where it was. She just had to keep to her end of the bargain with O’Reardon. That, and convince Nessa to get out of there. Somehow she had to contact her and make her see sense.

Thoughts crashed around her mind like toxic bubbles. She used a meditation technique her teacher taught her where she gathered all her thoughts, put them in a box and gently but firmly shut the lid. Taking a deep breath, she focused on what was around her. The gray-green of the foliage and the flashes of colored parrots swooping through the canopy calmed her.

As her mind quietened, other thoughts intruded. Thoughts about piercing gray eyes and the feel of her hand sliding across hard, warm muscles. His story about Dale Rowe went someway to explaining why he was seen as mysterious by the locals. He had his own demons to contend with. Demons she didn’t need in her life. He was definitely an admire-from-afar man.

Julia continued on her way through the bush and marveled that as the only one of her family to have spent time in custody, she was also the only one without a history of problematic drug and alcohol use. She meant to keep it that way.

So far, except for Blossom, Nessa, and her own inconvenient lust for Dylan, everything was going along okay. She knew where she was with O’Reardon. He would leave her alone. She was certain that any hostility from the locals would dissipate and she was working on some designs for Larissa. Her confrontation with Eleanor had left both of them tentative and careful with each other, but Julia could see Eleanor was right. She was a different woman to the mother of her childhood. Julia had to let that go.

The work on the house felt solid and real, grounding her and giving her a sense of purpose. When she went to the hardware store, she went as a tradesperson with experience and an eye for what she wanted. After a few interactions with the blokey sales assistants, she established herself as knowledgeable and capable.

One of them, Des, had delivered some new weatherboards and some paint one day, then stayed a few minutes to watch her work.

“You got your work cut out for you here, Jules. I’ve been telling Ellie for years she needed to get someone to work on this house. Good to see it finally happening.”

Julia took this to mean he approved of her work. She smiled at the memory then grabbed for a branch as she tripped on a rock. Righting herself she jumped when she saw a figure through the branches. Damn it. She came out here to get away from people.

Too late she realized who he was and that she couldn’t avoid him.

If only she was a different person with no history and no fear. Because any red-blooded woman would take one look at this fine specimen of manhood and welcome the sizzle of anticipation in her blood or the quickening of her breath.

Dylan was sex personified. Low-slung faded jeans and what looked like a well-loved and comfortable black sweater molded his muscles and made her hands itch to touch him.

That couldn’t happen any time soon.

She stopped on the track and waited till he stood in front of her. Small talk. She had to dredge up her small talk skills, instead of philosophical discussions about good and bad murderers.

She nodded at him. “Hi there. Out for a walk? It’s nice this time of day.”

For God’s sake. If only the earth would swallow her.

“It is,” he said. “Not too cold.”

He stood and stared at her. His small talk skills seemed as good as hers.

“How’s the painting going?” he asked.

She looked down at herself. Undercoat was splattered across her overalls. Overalls. She didn’t think a walk in the bush required a clean up. Boy, did she get that wrong.

“Good. Good. Getting there.”

“Dee told me you’re going to do inside and out.”

She nodded. Silence.

“It’s beautiful out here,” she said, turning to Mount Solitary. “I can’t believe these mountains were once taller than the Himalayas. Puts our puny time on the planet into great perspective.”

She sensed him relax beside her.

“I went on a camping trip to Alice Springs last year. The MacDonnell Ranges have the same effect.”

“Yeah,” she said, turning to him with a smile. “Eleanor took me there once when I was a teenager. I’d love to go back. All those gorges. Ormiston Gorge was my favorite. It was like an outdoor cathedral.”

“And when you camp out, you can’t sleep because the stars are so bright.”

“Or because a rock is digging into your back.”

He laughed. “There is that. But there’s a great sense of peace out there. I think it’s because the traditional owners still sing the land. They look at the hills and all the different markings and can read the meaning in the slopes and planes.” He sighed. “Not like us. We lost that connection to the land a long time ago.”

There was a sorrow in his voice that intrigued her.

“Is that another reason why you shifted up to the mountains? To make a connection with the bush? Lots of people do that up here.”

He shifted from foot to foot and frowned. Julia cursed her stupid awkwardness. Why did she feel compelled to delve deeper with him?

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“You’re not prying, and you’re partially right. I did move up here to get away from the city. Life sends you a curve ball sometimes and you need to do something different.”

“How long have you been a cop?”

He shot her a quick glance. “Ten years.”

“What do you do? I mean, what’s your rank?”

“I’m a Detective Inspector.” He paused and glanced at her. “How is Blossom now she’s out of detox?”

Okay. Message received. He’d done enough taking about himself the other night. No more.

She grimaced. “All right so far. She’s seeing Doctor Sinclair. He’s the doctor you mentioned isn’t he?”

Dylan nodded. “He’s got a good reputation for working with people with drug and alcohol problems.”

Julia thrust her hands into her overall pockets and kept her eyes on Mount Solitary. “That’s good,” she murmured. Time to change the subject. “Did I tell you I met the wonderful Rez before he ended up at our house?” she asked. “What a stunner.”

Dylan sighed. “We haven’t picked him up yet. I’m hoping he’s gone back to Sydney. He can be someone else’s problem. Has Blossom said anymore about him?”

She shook her head. “She hasn’t said anything much. Spends a lot of time sitting in the sun drinking tea. Which is just what she should be doing. But she won’t go to rehab.”

They both stood on the track and kept staring at the view. Julia could almost hear the cogs in his brain turning, trying to decide what to tell her. With her eyes away from him, all her other senses came to life. She heard twigs cracking as he shifted from foot to foot. The bush all around them smelled of eucalyptus and damp earth, but she was close enough to him to smell the remnants of something citrusy and fresh. Her stomach tightened in pleasurable pain at the thought of him naked and wet, slapping on aftershave with his damp, curling dark hair unruly, crying out for her hands to feel and play…

“I didn’t go to rehab when I got sober. Did it at home with a doctor friend and some AA mates.”

His words were a much needed jolt back into reality.

She nodded. “Dee mentioned something about you and AA.” She blundered on. “She didn’t mean to break your anonymity or anything, she just thought I might think it strange to see you when you picked her up…”

“It’s okay, Julia,” he said smiling. “She told me she’d mention it to you.”

“She did? Oh. Right. That’s good then.”

Silence again.

“Well, better get back to it…”

“Julia, what you told me about the day you were arrested. About what happened to you and Nessa.”

She stiffened.

“Did you ever tell anyone? Ever make a complaint?”

She couldn’t speak. This was not where she wanted this conversation to go.

He thrust his hands into the pocket of his jeans and frowned.

“Look. I know it would’ve been hard. The thing is…” He hesitated.

Her stomach took a nosedive.

“I mentioned before that O’Reardon is behind the drugs trade in this part of the world. If we can get something on him we could shut him down.”

No, no, no, no…

“I don’t know what you mean. You must have misunderstood me. I wasn’t assaulted that first night in the cells. It was the first night in Silverwater Women’s.” Her voice sounded cold and bleak even in her ears.

He stared at her with an incredulous look on his face. “That’s not what you said.”

She turned to him with what she hoped was an expressionless face. “But that’s what happened. I have to get back now.”

She turned to go, to flee but felt his hand on her arm. “O’Reardon is seriously bad news. You saw what Nessa was like. People like her are his bread and butter. You’ve been in jail so you know he’s responsible for most of the drug trade inside. We need all the evidence we can get. You could help us.”

She shook her head, trying to pull away from him.

“There were strange anomalies about the crime scene of the priest. I need to ask you about what you remember about the scene.”

She stilled. “Anomalies? What do you mean?”

“Father Pat had computers. Was well known for being a bit of a geek. But none were found in his house which doesn’t make sense. Someone took them and I think I know who. The question is why? Why would O’Reardon have taken those computers? Did you see them? Do you remember them being there?”

Julia stared at him with a growing sense of horror. If he went down this investigative track he could find exactly what she’d bargained with O’Reardon to keep hidden.

“I don’t remember. I don’t think there were any computers. I didn’t see any.”

“Are you sure? It was one of the ways he lured his victims into his house. The promise of using his top of the line computers.”

“I told you, I don’t remember seeing them.” She couldn’t look at him. “I better get back.” Turning to go, she stopped when he grabbed her hand.

“Are you scared of O’Reardon? You know if you make a statement we can protect you.”

She laughed, the sound bitter and despairing. “You don’t really believe that, do you?” She hoped her exaggerated incredulity would make him realize just how impossible his suggestion was.

He leaned back onto a rock and regarded her stonily. “I wouldn’t make the offer if I didn’t mean it.”

Something about his determined ferocity eased her contempt. He’d be a great person to have on her side. He believed in right and wrong and, from the look on his face, wouldn’t rest if he thought anyone under his protection was threatened. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone wanted to protect her. She was usually the one everyone else relied on. Even inside, the other women came to her for advice and support. She didn’t know what it was like to willingly seek out the protection and support of another person.

But what he wanted was impossible. She wouldn’t risk the safety of her family. Not after all she’d been through and more importantly what Blossom had been through. Dylan Andrews would have to understand that somehow.

“I’m not scared of him.”

He made a sound of frustration.

“Leave it Dylan. Just leave it. There was nothing I remember seeing.” She stared into his eyes wishing yet again that she could accept all he had to offer. Other women in her situation would be grateful and show their gratitude with a smile or a casual hug. What she really wanted was to kiss the frown lines on his forehead, then move to the lines at the corner of his eye, then lightly, so lightly, touch her lips to his.

He stood away from the rock and reached for her arm.

“Julia. Please…”

His hold was firm and warm. She stared into his eyes, lost for a moment in the cool crystalline depths.

“Don’t go,” he said softly. “Not yet.”

With his other hand he brushed her hair away from her forehead. He was close to her now, so close he let go of her and slid his arm around her waist. Bending his head, his pressed his lips to her skin. She made a noise, halfway between a gasp and sob as she tilted her head back and tasted the softness of his lips on hers.

He was gentle, so gentle as if fearful of scaring her. She didn’t want that. She was tired of fear. She wanted more. Wrapping her arms around him, she pressed herself closer, ignoring the warning voice in her head telling her she was out of her depth. Instead she let the warm taste of his mouth, the feel of his body, tense with expectation, to dominate her senses, making her dizzy with need.

She lost her balance in her need to get closer, to take what she’d never really had. But he caught her, holding her tight, surrounding her with all his strength and passion. She was greedy for him, kissing him, abandoning all thought of good sense.

She didn’t care who he was or what she’d done, she just wanted him.