her motel, and heard the crunch of running feet. It could be Brian. It could be the creepy man. She ducked behind a tree.
She saw nobody, but the footsteps got louder. Her heart pounded as she slid deeper into the rainforest undergrowth and hid behind a large eucalyptus. The bark of the tree was peeling off in sheets, and she knew stinging ants, spiders, lizards, even snakes could be close at hand. She didn’t care. Bites from animals she could deal with. She pressed her frame tight to the trunk, thankful she’d worn blue jeans and a dark green top. Someone ran hard, and then another set of footsteps followed. She eased forward, catching a glimpse of them under a streetlight. It was the gray-haired fellow with the baseball cap and she couldn’t be certain, but every instinct told her it was Firth.
Within minutes, a dark colored jeep drove slowly down the alley, its lights on high beam. She saw a flash of the license plate which started with CB. It wasn’t a rental.
When the driver turned the corner to the main street, she took off her high-heeled sandals, and ran along the edge of the road. Tiny pieces of gravel bit into the tender soles of her feet.
Adrenaline coursed through her as she tore through the room, leaving the lights off, tossing the few things she’d bothered to unpack back into her bag. She dialed Sarge’s mobile phone, but it went to voice message. No time for explanations. She dialed Brian’s number with shaking hands and wondered about using the hotel telephone. This time it was an emergency, and she wasn’t calling his home, just his mobile.
“Stay there,” he said. “I’m in the pub, be right over. Wait for me in the dark, at the bottom of the stairwell.”
She’d never been happier to hear the sound of a stranger’s voice before. Brian she could trust. Brian she had to trust.
Chapter Six
“Phone,” Jake yelled, above the sound of the shower running.
“Answer the bloody thing,” Sarge yelled back.
Jake did, and told Helen her husband would be in touch in about five minutes. He saw a missed call, redialed and found it was from a cheap motel a mile or so up the street from theirs. He spoke briefly with the motel manager, then turned toward Sarge who had come out of the bathroom in a cloud of steamy air and wrapped in only a white towel.
“Amy checked out. She was in a motel up the street. She’d tried to contact us.”
Sarge shook his head. “I never heard the bloody thing ring.”
Jake grimaced. “Oh, and call your wife.” He tossed Sarge’s mobile onto the bed and went to retrieve his own. Although late in the evening, because they had spent hours cruising all the major hotspots and expensive hotels, he decided to call Diana.
“She’s gone, you mean left Cairns?” he asked, and moved the cell phone to his other ear. “With an Aussie guy?”
“I’ll call in the morning, darl,” Sarge said. He closed off his phone and moved closer.
Jake could hardly hear Diana; loud music played in the background. She said she was in a club. “What did you say?” He rubbed a hand across his eyes. Damn jetlag was catching up with him. “She’s gone toward Cooktown…the back way? Oh, tomorrow morning, okay.” Seconds later he shut off his cell phone and scratched angrily at the day old bristles on his chin.
“What happened, mate…she okay?” Sarge asked.
Jake smiled, for some reason it was hard to smile, but he was giving it a damn good try. “She hooked up with some Aussie guy and is staying at his place tonight. They’ll leave for Cooktown in the morning.”
“In his car?”
“No. He’s a…a biker, a local guy. She rented a jeep at the airport.”
At least she wasn’t with the smarmy Brit, but it still bothered him that she was with a stranger. He had to help her, bring her back to safety, and not just for old man Helm and because he was being paid to do it, but because…hell, he didn’t know why. He was nauseated, too much Aussie beer, and not enough sleep.
She saw nobody, but the footsteps got louder. Her heart pounded as she slid deeper into the rainforest undergrowth and hid behind a large eucalyptus. The bark of the tree was peeling off in sheets, and she knew stinging ants, spiders, lizards, even snakes could be close at hand. She didn’t care. Bites from animals she could deal with. She pressed her frame tight to the trunk, thankful she’d worn blue jeans and a dark green top. Someone ran hard, and then another set of footsteps followed. She eased forward, catching a glimpse of them under a streetlight. It was the gray-haired fellow with the baseball cap and she couldn’t be certain, but every instinct told her it was Firth.
Within minutes, a dark colored jeep drove slowly down the alley, its lights on high beam. She saw a flash of the license plate which started with CB. It wasn’t a rental.
When the driver turned the corner to the main street, she took off her high-heeled sandals, and ran along the edge of the road. Tiny pieces of gravel bit into the tender soles of her feet.
Adrenaline coursed through her as she tore through the room, leaving the lights off, tossing the few things she’d bothered to unpack back into her bag. She dialed Sarge’s mobile phone, but it went to voice message. No time for explanations. She dialed Brian’s number with shaking hands and wondered about using the hotel telephone. This time it was an emergency, and she wasn’t calling his home, just his mobile.
“Stay there,” he said. “I’m in the pub, be right over. Wait for me in the dark, at the bottom of the stairwell.”
She’d never been happier to hear the sound of a stranger’s voice before. Brian she could trust. Brian she had to trust.
Chapter Six
“Phone,” Jake yelled, above the sound of the shower running.
“Answer the bloody thing,” Sarge yelled back.
Jake did, and told Helen her husband would be in touch in about five minutes. He saw a missed call, redialed and found it was from a cheap motel a mile or so up the street from theirs. He spoke briefly with the motel manager, then turned toward Sarge who had come out of the bathroom in a cloud of steamy air and wrapped in only a white towel.
“Amy checked out. She was in a motel up the street. She’d tried to contact us.”
Sarge shook his head. “I never heard the bloody thing ring.”
Jake grimaced. “Oh, and call your wife.” He tossed Sarge’s mobile onto the bed and went to retrieve his own. Although late in the evening, because they had spent hours cruising all the major hotspots and expensive hotels, he decided to call Diana.
“She’s gone, you mean left Cairns?” he asked, and moved the cell phone to his other ear. “With an Aussie guy?”
“I’ll call in the morning, darl,” Sarge said. He closed off his phone and moved closer.
Jake could hardly hear Diana; loud music played in the background. She said she was in a club. “What did you say?” He rubbed a hand across his eyes. Damn jetlag was catching up with him. “She’s gone toward Cooktown…the back way? Oh, tomorrow morning, okay.” Seconds later he shut off his cell phone and scratched angrily at the day old bristles on his chin.
“What happened, mate…she okay?” Sarge asked.
Jake smiled, for some reason it was hard to smile, but he was giving it a damn good try. “She hooked up with some Aussie guy and is staying at his place tonight. They’ll leave for Cooktown in the morning.”
“In his car?”
“No. He’s a…a biker, a local guy. She rented a jeep at the airport.”
At least she wasn’t with the smarmy Brit, but it still bothered him that she was with a stranger. He had to help her, bring her back to safety, and not just for old man Helm and because he was being paid to do it, but because…hell, he didn’t know why. He was nauseated, too much Aussie beer, and not enough sleep.
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