Little Girl Lost (7 page)

‘What do you want?’ Max asked Tia. ‘My shout.’

‘I’ll try the lamb casserole,’ she said. ‘But I pay my own way thanks.’

‘I’ll have the lamb too,’ Max told Trish before turning to Tia. ‘Didn’t you just shout me a beer?’

‘No, she didn’t,’ Trish jumped in. ‘You owe me for the beer as well as your dinner.’

Max couldn’t help but laugh. Beside him Tia laughed too. It was a lovely sound, like birds singing after a light summer shower. He guessed she didn’t do it very often. When she stopped, he found himself searching for something to say or do that would make her laugh again.

‘So, where did you learn how to make such beautiful things from old wood?’ Tia asked.

‘My dad started me off,’ Max told her, happy to think she wanted to get to know him better. ‘He was an old-fashioned cabinetmaker. He whittled too. He could turn a bit of wood into a bird or a horse or a kangaroo in no time at all. He gave me my first whittling knife when I was about twelve. My first effort was the strangest looking horse you’ve ever seen.’ He smiled at the memory. ‘I’ve been making things with wood ever since. I slowly got better. Most of my horses have four legs now, but my speciality is dinosaurs.’

He was rewarded with another laugh, and a smile that lit her eyes.

‘Your house must be overflowing with little wooden birds and animals.’

‘No. I give them away. Kids seem to like them.’

‘And the furniture you make. It’s really good.’

‘Thanks. I give most of that away too.’

‘Why?’

‘I like working with my hands. Keeps me occupied in the evenings. And I get a lot of satisfaction from—’

‘No. I mean why give it all away? You could get good money for handmade furniture like that. Especially back in the city. There must be rich people down there who would pay really good money for the sort of stuff you make.’ Tia seemed genuinely puzzled.

Max shrugged. ‘I get the wood for nothing. There are a lot of people around town who haven’t got a lot of money, so I make stuff they can use. I like to help out. Besides, I’m not a wood carver or a carpenter. I’m a police officer. That’s who I am.’

He watched the veil come down over her eyes as he spoke. He sensed her withdrawing as she picked up her glass and drank, not because she was thirsty so much as to break the communication between them. He’d seen that sort of behaviour before in police stations, interrogation rooms and cells when he’d been questioning suspects. His professional instincts were telling him there was a lot about Tia’s background that he didn’t know. And a lot that probably wasn’t good. The diverted eyes and the bike told him that. The tattoo, however sexy it might be, was another sign. If he didn’t know better he’d think she was, or at least had been, a gang member. Or in trouble with the law. Maybe in a juvenile centre for a while. He glanced at her bare arms. There was no sign of needle marks, but he hadn’t expected any. She wasn’t behaving like a druggie; more like a runaway trying to hide her past.

He was a police officer. What or who was she?

Another thought he’d been ignoring pushed its way to the forefront of his mind. Her driver’s licence had been in the name Felicity Walsh. Tia was pretty close, and the description matched. Just because she called herself Tia, that didn’t mean anything. Maybe she didn’t like the name Felicity. A lot of women wouldn’t. He pushed the thought back to the far recesses of his mind. Much as he loved his work, there were times when he wished he could let it go, and simply be himself for a while.

Before he could think of another conversational tack to try, Trish arrived with two steaming plates of food. Tia started eating without a word. Max did too, while watching her out of the corner of his eye. She ate fast, as if determined to get the food down before it was taken from her. For his part, he didn’t taste a single mouthful of Trish’s most popular offering. His mind was too busy trying to solve the enigma of the woman sitting next to him.

They finished their meals in silence. Tia drank the last of her beer, then got to her feet.

‘You could stay and have another,’ Max said.

‘No. I’m on overnights. I need to be back at work in a couple of hours. It’s not a real good idea to drink before you get behind the wheel of a Cat 793.’

Picturing the massive mine trucks, Max had to agree.

‘Some other time, then,’ he said.

Tia shrugged and raised a hand to attract Trish’s attention.

‘What do I owe?’ Tia asked when the older woman arrived.

Max wanted to tell her to forget it; that he would pay. However, he knew Tia well enough by now to know that would be a mistake. Instead, he remained silent while she paid her bill and headed for the door.

‘Goodnight, Tia.’

‘Goodnight … Max.’

Max watched her go. She walked with a long, easy stride. Confident and strong. He was beginning to think that something softer lay beneath that tough girl exterior. He drank the last of his beer as outside the Harley roared into life and drove down the highway south towards the mine.

‘Well?’ Trish appeared in front of him again.

‘Of course. Sorry. How much do I owe you?’ Max pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. That wasn’t what Trish was really after, but that was all she was going to get. Max was fond of Trish. Her encyclopaedic knowledge of everyone in the town and seemingly everything they did or thought had proved useful to him in his official role at times. But tonight wasn’t one of those times.

He put the money on the bar and headed out into the night.

He stayed up late, working in his shed, replaying his conversation with Tia. Replaying every flash of her eyes and those rare but wonderful moments of her laughter. Hearing again the way she said his name. For once, he could not lose himself in the joy of working with his hands to turn something old and abandoned into something new and beautiful. His mind was elsewhere. When at last he went to bed, it was all he could do not to think of the lines of her body under the motorcycle leathers, and that tattoo that peeped from beneath her top.

He was tired and still restless when dawn came. He got out of bed, donned his uniform and his professional demeanour and opened the station early. He was about to do something he had never done before – use his position for personal reasons.

He powered up his computer and logged in to the police department system.

He didn’t give himself time to think. He typed in the name he had seen on that driver’s licence last night. Felicity Walsh. He added the Brisbane suburb listed on the licence as her old address. The search found nothing. No traffic tickets or outstanding warrants for her. No criminal record of any kind. He was surprised to find himself breathing a sigh of relief. He hadn’t realised how worried he was that the search might show something that would force him onto a path he did not want to take.

One more thing to check. He typed in the Harley’s reggo.

The details flashed up on the screen – and his eyes widened. The Harley was not registered in Tia’s name. It was in the name of Andrew Kelly
.
The reggo address was the same as the address on Tia’s licence. The bike had not been reported stolen, in fact, the reggo had been paid just a few days before. Presumably by the owner; this Andrew Kelly. Why would he pay for reggo on the bike if it was stolen? Maybe there was some sort of relationship between Tia and this guy. He should check him out. See if he had a record.

Max frowned. Despite what his instincts were telling him, there was no crime he could see. And he was going to stop there. There was a mystery about Tia. But it was one Max would solve – as himself, not as Sergeant Delaney. He reached for the mouse to close the window before he could be tempted to look any further.

‘Dad. Are you sure you’re feeling up to this? I can handle it. Honestly.’

‘Now, Sarah. Leave it be. I’m not dead yet, and until I am, I’ll work.’

The words cut through Sarah like a knife, as did her father’s anger. She took a half step back, biting her bottom lip to help maintain her calm.

‘Oh, Sarah, honey, I’m sorry.’ Ken’s face softened. ‘I didn’t mean to snap at you. And I didn’t mean to say … well, I’m sorry.’

‘It’s okay, Dad.’ Sarah stepped close to her father and wrapped her arms around him. Ken was thin and looking frail, and as she buried her head in his chest, she realised that he smelled different now. The cancer and the drugs he was taking to treat it had changed him. But he was still her dad and she loved him just as she had when she was a little girl, curled up in bed falling asleep to the sound of his voice reading her favourite stories. She loved him even more now she was an adult and knew enough about the world to understand what a good man he was. She loved him so much and she was so desperately afraid she was going to lose him.

His arms tightened around her and he placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head, just as he had always done when she was upset; ever since she was a small child.

‘All right,’ his voice was rough with emotion as he broke the embrace. ‘Let’s get to work. We need this storeroom tidied up by this afternoon. We’ve got a lot of new stock coming. I’ve decided to start carrying a small range of children’s toys and things. I know you can get it all off the internet, but people sometimes leave it too late. So I thought, as the only general store in town, we should carry some kids’ toys and small gifts. After all, people are always buying things for kids. And children get pocket money too. They need to be able to do something with it.’

Sarah’s heart gave an unexpected little skip. ‘When are you expecting the delivery?’

‘This afternoon. Now, first thing we need to do is sort through the rest of the non-food items. I think they should all be kept in one section. The corner by the back door would be about right.’

Sarah nodded, her thoughts elsewhere. Right now, on the road north of the Creek, Pete was driving his big blue and white truck towards them. His strong hands would be on the wheel and he might be singing. He did that sometimes when he worked, although she doubted he was aware of it. She’d heard him singing softly as he unloaded boxes from his truck. He probably did it when he drove as well. He wasn’t the world’s greatest singer, but he had a pleasant voice. She’d happily listen to him any time, although that probably didn’t have a lot to do with his voice. It was just because she liked being around him and was rather drawn to the idea of sitting beside him, listening to his songs as they travelled through the outback.

‘Sarah? Did you hear? I said we may need to put up some new shelves in that corner to make the stock easier to get to.’

‘Yeah. Sure, Dad. Have you got the necessary bits and pieces?’

If there were shelves to be built, she would be the one doing it. She had come home to take over those tasks that were now too much for her dad to handle. She braced herself to argue with him if he insisted on doing it himself. At the same time, she braced herself for the heartache if he stood back and handed control to her. That would be an acknowledgement of how ill he really was, and that was going to be just as hard to take.

‘I do,’ Ken said. ‘There’s a complete set of prefab shelving in the garage that will work fine here. I’ll mind the store while you go and get them.’

Pete stretched his arms and flexed his fingers against the steering wheel. The road ahead seemed longer than it normally did and he was having trouble concentrating. That was not a good thing when you were driving a road train. He flicked his stereo on, seeking music he could sing along to. But turned it off again after a few minutes.

He was never going to drink that much beer again. Ever. He was a professional driver and seldom drank more than a single beer. But last night …

It had all started over dinner. Linda had pretty much moved in to live with him now. She’d cooked a nice dinner and there’d been plenty of beer in the fridge waiting for him. It was probably her idea of domestic bliss. After dinner, she’d kissed him long and hard. Her invitation and desire were clear, but he’d turned away. He’d had no desire for sex with Linda since she’d told him the news. She knew how he was feeling and he’d seen the hurt on her face. There had been something else there too. Fear, perhaps. She was afraid he would turn away from her and the child. He’d felt a little hurt by that. Surely she knew him well enough to know he would never desert a child. If she didn’t, that said a lot about any future they might have together.

After that, he’d taken more beer from the fridge and gone outside to sit alone in the darkness and drink. He had drunk far too much of that beer and ended up falling asleep on a squatters chair on the veranda of his small rented house. When the first rays of the sun had hit him squarely in the face, he’d staggered inside to grab a couple more hours of sleep on the sofa before heading off to work before Linda woke. He was ashamed of his behaviour. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t the sort of person he was. It was time he got himself together and dealt with what life had thrown at him.

When he got back to the Isa tomorrow, he’d apologise to Linda. He was going to be a father. It was time to man up and do the right thing.

The Coorah Creek town sign flashed past, and instinctively he eased back on the accelerator, driving from habit as his mind continued its uncomfortable musings. When the truck rolled to a stop, he realised he’d pulled up in front of the Coorah Creek store. He had freight on board for Ken, but it was right at the front of the load. He was also carrying stuff for the mine. That would have to be unloaded first. There was no reason to stop at the store.

But he had.

For a minute he thought about starting the engine and simply driving on, but Ken – or Sarah – would have seen him pull up. To drive away without explanation would be rude. He reached for the door handle.

As he walked through the store’s front door, Sarah was just emerging from the door at the back. Her head was turned to look back at someone behind her, and she was laughing. The sound danced through the air between them and he felt as if he was bathed in its glow.

Sarah turned her head and saw him. The laughter turned to a gentle, happy smile.

‘Hi, Pete.’

How could two words sound better than the greatest symphony ever written?

‘Hi, Sarah.’

She looked amazing. So bright and fresh and so terribly young. His heart skipped a beat, but then reality crashed home to him. She was young. Too young. He had no right to feel a surge of desire for this girl who had once called him uncle. And especially not when back in Mount Isa, Linda was carrying his child and looking to build a life with him. He had to stop himself before he let a passing attraction become more than that.

‘I only stopped by to tell you I have a load on board for the mine. It has to come out first. I’ll be back later.’

‘Okay.’ Her eyes twinkled as if she was in on some joke of which he was unaware.

‘So, I mean, don’t close up if I’m running late. This mine load might take a bit of time.’

‘I’ll be here, Pete,’ she said. ‘Waiting for you.’

There was something in the way she said it. It was an invitation far more appealing than Linda’s kiss last night. But it was an invitation he could never accept.

‘Ah, good. Then.’ He turned to go.

He heard her move behind him. ‘Pete,’ she called.

He turned. She had opened a fridge and was holding a bottle of water.

‘On the house,’ Sarah said. ‘You sound a bit dry.’

She tossed the water and he caught it.

‘Thanks.’

He didn’t open the water until he was back in the cab of the truck. He twisted the top and took a long deep swallow of the cool liquid. He’d drunk the whole bottle before he moved to touch his ignition. The huge truck moved slowly away from the kerb in the direction of the mine.

She was waiting for him when he got back to town a couple of hours later. The lights in the store were still on and as he pulled up he could see her through the window. She was moving things around on one of the shelves. He felt it again, that instant surge of longing. What would happen, he wondered, if he didn’t drive away after unloading the supplies for the store? He could suggest they had dinner together at the pub. Just a burger and a beer. There was nothing wrong with that, was there?

There was, he suddenly realised because, for him at least, it wasn’t just a burger and a beer. The little girl who had held a special place in his heart had grown up and something about her now called to him in a very different way and that was not right. For a start, she was too young. He honestly didn’t know if she was over the legal drinking age. And then there was the situation he now faced. He couldn’t drag someone as young and innocent as Sarah into the mess of his own making. It wouldn’t be fair to her or to Linda.

Pete determined to unload as quickly as possible and get out of Coorah Creek before he did something he would later regret.

He opened the back of the truck, and hefted the first couple of boxes.

‘Hello again, Pete,’ Sarah said as she opened the door for him and took a careful look at the boxes he was carrying. ‘Could you drop those first few over by those empty shelves, rather than in the storeroom, please?’

‘Sure thing,’ he said, determined to make this visit as short and as business-like as he could.

He set the boxes on the floor and quickly returned to the truck. The second and third loads he carried through to the storeroom, while Sarah opened those first boxes. His curiosity was aroused.

‘What have you got there?’ he asked, pausing beside her for a few moments between loads.

‘Look!’ Sarah said gaily as she turned towards him, her hands full of brightly- coloured objects. ‘Aren’t they pretty?’

Pete’s eyes widened with surprise. Sarah was holding out a bunch of toys to him – bright, soft babies’ toys. The sort of toys an expectant parent would buy for a newborn baby. The sort of toys Linda was already looking at in shop windows and online.

‘That’s different,’ he managed to say. ‘I’ve never seen your dad carry that sort of thing before.’

‘I know.’ Sarah started placing the items onto the empty shelves, moving them around to make an attractive display. ‘But he’s decided the town’s children will always need more toys, and they should buy them here, not from the internet. I hope it works out for him.’

Pete mumbled something appropriate and turned away for his next load of boxes. By the time he emerged from the stockroom the final time, Sarah was standing back, holding a big yellow teddy bear under her arm as she studied the results of her handiwork. She looked cute, standing there like that. This child who wasn’t a child any more. She’d probably make a great mother some time. A great wife for some lucky man.

But not for him. The thought struck home like a hammer blow. Some other woman was having his child and that was an end to it.

‘Yes. Very nice,’ he stammered. ‘I bet you’ll have no trouble selling those. Well, I’m off. See you again next week.’ He headed for the front door without really giving her time to reply.

He felt like a coward, but when it came to Sarah he was beginning to suspect running away was the best thing he could do. He had to run away from her because he couldn’t run away from Linda or the child she carried.