No Rescue (2 page)

The ferry docked.

‘Cabin or deck?' Tad asked as they boarded. He walked a protective half-step behind her.

‘Deck, please.' She liked to watch the bridge grow bigger as they drew closer, and had worn a jacket against the morning chill in anticipation of this. ‘Unless you'll be cold?'

‘Nah.'

She rolled her eyes. Typical male response. Her brothers never admitted weakness either.

‘I'll cuddle you if I get cold.'

‘You won't.'

‘You wouldn't let me freeze.' He moved easily with the slight motion of the ferry, looking not at all cold in his white shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows.

Beside them, tourists shuffled. She knew they were tourists by the way they all raised their phones to snap the bridge and the Sydney skyline. Not that she blamed them. Her own photographer's eye insisted on assessing the light and framing the scene. The traffic flowing across the bridge was a colourful stream.

The bridge loomed, then shadowed them as they sailed underneath. She shivered in the fleeting darkness.

‘Want a cuddle?' For all that Tad appeared to be watching the scene, he'd noticed her reaction and teased her even as he shifted so that his body blocked the slight wind off the water.

They re-entered the sunshine. ‘No, thanks.'

‘Offer's open.'

He was easy to flirt with and she was tempted. It made the day an adventure. Made her feel normal. ‘I'll remember that.'

Sunglasses hid his eyes, but the corners of his mouth indented in the hint of a smile.

She turned around to watch the bridge recede.

Circular Quay was crazy with people. The commuters stampeded off the ferry as if time were money. It probably was. The tourists were right with them. She and Tad brought up the rear. He had a relaxed way about him. They boarded the ferry to the zoo without fuss, but this time sat inside. They'd be sailing past the Opera House, but she wasn't a fan and as she told Tad, she didn't care if that made her un-Aussie.

‘Do you eat Vegemite?' he asked solemnly.

‘Yes.'

‘Then we'll keep you.'

The cabin was warm and she blamed that for the heat in her cheeks. It wasn't because he looked at her with so much approval. She unzipped her jacket, her arm brushing against his. Her skin tingled. ‘Did you always want to be a cop?'

‘I wanted a job on the water. Dad's family are all fishermen. I grew up with the life. In a good season, it's great. Hard work, but worth it. In a bad season…I wanted something more reliable. And I guess the Water Rats appealed because they were doing stuff, not just piloting a ferry or a hire boat.'

‘You like the life.' She could hear it in his voice.

‘Yeah.'

‘It shows.'

He twisted in his seat. ‘How?'

‘You're confident. Sure of who you are.' It made him incredibly appealing, beyond the superficiality of his looks. ‘Life doesn't scare you.'

For the first time, she saw his fair eyebrows draw down in a frown. ‘What scares you?'

She backed off. He was a stranger and this was time-out from her life. She didn't need it to get too serious. He might be a born policeman, hard-wired to protect and serve, but this impulsive outing was meant to be fun. It was about re-engaging with the little joys of life, like baby giraffes. ‘Stand down, St George. I fight my own dragons.'

‘Every knight needs a squire.' And at her look of surprise, he said, ‘Hey! I read. I like history.'

‘So do I.' History had been her major at university. She'd intended on becoming a high school teacher before she'd decided to risk her future on the shaky likelihood of making a living as a photographer. The decision had worked out and she'd been doing well, quietly building her reputation, until —

‘Miri, if you need help with something…'

‘I'm fine.' She cut him off, then her innate honesty got the better of her. ‘I will be fine.' It was a promise she'd made herself. ‘Just you worry about providing a glimpse of the baby giraffe you lured me with.'

He stared at her for a long moment and his cop stare was a good one.

She felt him reading her soul.

He nodded, letting it go. For now. ‘One baby giraffe, guaranteed. Now, how are you with heights?'

The cable car from the ferry to the zoo was fantastic. Miri's fingers itched for her camera. The views across Sydney had tourists snapping shots and exclaiming in half a dozen different languages. Her own contribution came without thought. ‘I'm a photographer.' She glanced at Tad and saw that his attention was for her, not the view.

‘That suits you. You're watchful, taking everything in. You should have brought your camera. I wouldn't have minded.'

She shrugged one shoulder. Uncharacteristically, she hadn't thought to bring it. All her attention was for him. The realisation made her self-conscious and dragged a deeper truth out of her. ‘Maybe I need to be in the world, and not simply viewing it through a lens.'

The cable car reached the zoo's entrance and she used that as an excuse to stand and change the conversation. They kept getting too serious, connecting too deeply. It was disconcerting.

Perhaps he thought so too. For a few minutes, their conversation was only about the animals. They stopped at the komodo dragons' enclosure.

‘Ugh. What a monster.' The huge grey lizard was ugly, but it was the sense of power and threat that emanated from it that had her retreating, and bumping into Tad. They stayed like that a moment, with her alive to his warmth and strength. It seemed as if their breathing synchronised.

‘Do you know komodo dragons don't need to have sex to reproduce?'

‘Pathogenesis.'

He put a hand to her waist and turned her around. ‘How do you know that? I thought I'd impress you with my knowledge.'

‘I guess we both watched the same TV documentary.'

‘Huh.' He looked over her shoulder at the giant lizard. ‘Still, I feel sorry for him. Not much fun if there's no sex.'

She figured there was no safe answer to that, especially with Tad smiling down at her, his smile broadening when she didn't respond.

The zoo was alive with the sounds of the animals and with visitors. A group of elderly people had been disgorged from a bus outside and were now making their way determinedly from exhibit to exhibit. Parents with toddlers zipped smartly around them, manoeuvring expensive pushers and promising penguins. Through the chaos, zoo staff trundled along the paths in little electric carts. Miri stepped back fast to prevent being run over.

A cockatoo shrieked with what sounded suspiciously like laughter. A toddler responded with an ear-splitting demand: ‘Peng-wins!' He silenced the bird and everyone else. His mother looked around, smiling brightly. ‘Does anyone know where the penguins are?'

A dozen hands pointed. She escaped.

Miri and Tad laughed. They took in the orang-utan enclosure and its sleepy, human-like inhabitants before reaching the giraffes.

‘Aww.' The baby was adorable. ‘Look at her skinny legs. And her eyes. Giraffes have beautiful faces.'

No response from Tad.

Miri glanced at him.

‘I think they're weird. I saw them in Africa, drinking at a waterhole, long legs all everywhere as they bent their necks down. And they run strangely.'

‘Maybe you should give them tips?'

He grinned at her. ‘Do you like my style?'

She rolled her eyes, not that he could see since she had her sunglasses on, but his unabashed fishing-for-compliments had her laughing.

He had to know he was gorgeous. What really worked for him was that he didn't seem to care. He was just a regular guy strolling through the zoo and making her feel special with teasing, laughter and questions. Plus, he listened when she answered.

They walked through the dappled light of the safari zone, and she walked maybe a fraction closer than necessary, enjoying the brush of their bodies and the happy zap that accompanied the accidental touches.

A Barbary sheep regarded them with a grumpy expression.

‘What sort of photographer are you? Weddings? Studio?'

‘Magazine shoots and I'm trying to build up a reputation for quirky street scenes and landscapes. I'd like to sell art prints, calendars, things like that.'

At the tiger's cage, they paused. The big cat was as lethal as the Komodo dragon, but so beautiful he mesmerised the senses. He lay in the sun, only the tip of his tail flicking.

From further down the path came the sound of many feet and excited voices. Over the top of them rang out a command. ‘Girls!'

Miri turned instinctively and a vice clamped around her chest, constricting her breathing. Panic. She swung back to Tad, focussing on his face and forcing her lungs to a slow steady rhythm. She could — would — control this. For the first time in too long, she was enjoying herself, and she would not have it ruined.

Tad looked from her to the approaching schoolgirls. Their uniforms declared their private school status. They were perhaps thirteen years old, all carrying drawing equipment.

They came closer, hurrying up to the tiger's cage, undoubtedly drawn by the danger of the animal.

Miri went cold.

Tad put an arm around her and half lifted her off the path and back to a secluded bench they'd passed. He sat beside her. ‘What's wrong?'

‘I didn't think.' She stopped. Breathed. ‘I shouldn't react like this.'

‘A group of teenage girls are scary. Ask any cop. They're unpredictable.'

She couldn't respond to the humour. She tried, she truly did, but her mouth shook as tried to force a smile.

‘Should we go?'

She shook her head and got the words out all in one burst. ‘Seven weeks ago, I was photographing a school trip in the Blue Mountains. My old school. I was a scholarship girl. They asked me back. Wanted a professional look for some promo they had planned. Camping and environmental work.'

‘God. You were the one taken hostage.' His tension enveloped her.

‘We all were. The boy, Scott, he had a gun.' If Tad remembered the story, she didn't have to continue. But she couldn't stop. ‘I talked to him for over two hours. After the first hour, I got him to let the girls go. Their teacher and I stayed. He told us…he told us horrible things about his childhood. He was only eighteen.' It was a cry from the heart, an appeal for understanding.

He rubbed his hand up and down her arm.

‘Scott talked and talked. He was so angry. Despairing. He said others had everything and he had nothing. He needed help. He had almost put the gun down when the local cops arrived. The girls had called them once they were released. The cops crashed in. Shouted. Scott panicked. He didn't raise the gun.' She turned within Tad's embrace and put a hand against his chest, needing the connection. ‘I swear he didn't raise the gun. Scott went to run. He stepped back. He slipped.' She shuddered. ‘He fell over the cliff and died.' Her eyes and nose stung with tears. ‘They found the gun beside him. It was empty.'

***

‘I'm sorry, Miri.' Tad could feel her frozen horror. She was back in the moment. He wasn't a trained negotiator and had never borne the responsibility of a hostage drama, but there were similarities to a rescue situation. You became the person's link to life, to the real world of decent people. She had been the boy's link. That took courage.

And when the boy had died, that broken link had devastated her. He could hear the depressed, desperate note of failure and self-blame in her hurried speech.

‘I thought I'd be all right at the zoo.' Her voice was thick with tears, but a note of anger sounded through it; she was impatient with herself.

‘Flashbacks are normal.' And isolating. He resented his helplessness. She felt small and vulnerable as she huddled against him, and all he could do was hold her tighter.

‘Huh.' She grabbed a tissue from her bag and blew her nose.

‘Would you like to go home?'

‘It's borrowed.'

‘Pardon?' That didn't make sense. Who borrowed a tissue?

‘I'm staying at a friend's flat while he's away. It's not home. Selwyn knew I was having problems. I love my family but they're over-whelming. They're all around western Sydney. All checking on me.'

‘But the Bridge keeps them at bay?'

She smiled faintly. ‘You think you're kidding, but it's true. They don't like the inner city.'

More likely they were respecting her demand for space, something he was starting to think she'd better never ask of him. He wouldn't want to see her suffering and not be able to hold her. It would eat him alive, but he forced himself to ask. ‘Would you like to return to your borrowed refuge?'

She looked around at the cheerful, friendly zoo. Her gaze stayed a long moment on the schoolgirls, all seated, sketching by the tiger's cage. ‘I'd like to stay. If you don't mind?' Her eyes were shimmery with unshed tears.

He squeezed her shoulders. ‘Your decision.' He respected her courage. She stood and he rose with her, taking her hand.

She held it as if it were a lifeline.

The meerkats proved a great distraction. They were alert and funny, and Miri relaxed. Her photographer's eye caught everything, and she commented on the animals' antics and the human audience's reaction.

He felt his own battle-ready tension ease as she relaxed.

‘Thank you,' she said when they sat down for lunch at a café overlooking the harbour.

There didn't need to be gratitude between them. All he'd done was allow her space to fight her demons. ‘We can feed the giraffes after lunch.'

‘I'd like that.' She smiled.

That small smile, genuine and appreciative, touched him like a caress. It was an expression of trust and, whether she knew it or not, a promise for the future. The sweetness of it rocked his world, and he felt as clumsy as an armadillo as he got up from the table and tried to move and act naturally.