North Star (26 page)

‘He's no one.' She tried to wrench her arm from his grip.

‘Tell me!'

‘No! Let me go.'

‘Goddamn it, tell me the truth—what happened that night?'

Her eyes flew to his, full of terror and pain, and he drew in a ragged breath. ‘So it's true then?' He let go of her wrist and she stumbled backwards, regaining her balance and turning to hurry into the house.

The screen door opened with a small squeak of protest as he followed her.

‘I take it Andy told you,' she said, staring sightlessly at the kitchen sink.

‘I want to hear it from you.' He pulled a chair out from the kitchen table and sat down. ‘How do you know Len Jackson?' he asked quietly.

Hearing the name, she shuddered, then turned and sat down at the table opposite John.

‘He came here with my mother,' she groaned softly. She didn't want to relive this, it was dead and buried, but a gentle squeeze on her hand brought her back to the present and she knew she couldn't avoid the truth, not now that John knew.

She'd nursed her gran for three months, watching her fade away before her eyes. The days after Gran's death had been horrible. The only person who'd ever loved her had been taken from her and she was alone with a man who was incapable of any emotion, let alone love. He returned from the funeral and immediately began the process of tracking down Eve.

Lying in bed, Kate had listened to him yelling down the line, demanding that Eve come and collect her brat. He had no further use for her here. It took a further two miserable weeks until her mother turned up, stoned and looking as though she'd aged a decade since Kate had last seen her.

Kate remembered the scarlet lipstick her mother wore, and the bottle-blonde hair, the roots having grown out dark and ugly in a two-inch band along her parting. She looked worn out.

The man who sauntered up behind Eve stared at Kate with cold dark eyes, and Kate knew enough to recognise that this man was dangerous. He seemed to be everywhere she turned that evening, his eyes following her, making her skin crawl.

‘He cornered me in the kitchen,' Kate said quietly, ‘and tried to kiss me.' She'd turned to find herself trapped against the sink, his brawny arms, covered in tattoos, pinning her to the bench. ‘But I ducked under his arm and ran to my bedroom. He just sniggered from the end of the hallway, and I knew that next time he wouldn't let me get away.' Kate couldn't bear to look John in the eye.

Her grandfather had taken to living in the bunkhouse just before her gran's death, as far away from human contact as possible. He'd made it clear he wanted nothing to do with Kate or her mother, and said that if they weren't gone by morning he'd have them thrown off for trespassing.

Kate squeezed her eyes shut tight, remembering that night. ‘He came into the room and knocked me back onto the bed.'

He'd forced her down with his large body, making it impossible for her to move. Panic had engulfed her as she fought to breathe. The smell of stale sweat and liquor on him had made her stomach heave. She'd screamed and wept frightened tears, praying that someone would come and save her. Even as he began to pull at her clothing she'd clung to the hope that a guardian angel would snatch her from the clutches of the man above her.

John's light touch snapped Kate from her thoughts with a start. She blinked to clear her mind, sliding her hand out from under his, standing abruptly to pour a glass of water. Her hand shook as she tipped the glass to her lips and felt the cool water slide down her throat.

‘What happened then?'

Kate could tell that John was trying to remain impassive, but there was a telltale quiver in his voice.

‘Mum came into the room and started screaming. I ran away while they were fighting and hid in the bush, until I heard the gunshot. Then I came back and found her in the car.'

John watched her as she sank back into her seat. She noticed his hands were clenched on the top of the table.

‘Kate, what happened to Len Jackson? Andy said you told him he was dead.'

‘And we both know Andy is such a reliable source of information.'

‘He's threatening to go over my head if I don't open an investigation into Len Jackson's disappearance. If I don't follow this up, someone else will.'

Kate toyed with a spoon on the table, absently tracing the floral pattern of the tablecloth. ‘Did you look up Len Jackson's record?' she asked without looking at him.

‘I did.'

She lifted her eyes and fixed him with a fierce gaze. ‘Then you know that he was a convicted rapist and had spent time in prison for armed robbery.'

‘I do.' His voice was steady.

‘You really think someone like him is worth wasting your time on?'

‘I don't have a say in it. If a person's gone missing, it's the police's job to make sure it's investigated.'

‘And he's missing because Andy says so?' she asked coldly.

‘No. He hasn't been reported missing . . . but no one has seen or heard from him since around the time he and your mother were here.' He held her gaze calmly.

‘I don't know what else you want from me, John,' Kate said, exasperated. ‘I made the mistake of confiding in the man I thought I'd be spending the rest of my life with, because I had to explain to him why I flinched every time he touched me for the first few months of our marriage. I didn't expect to ever have to talk about it again.'

John winced. ‘If it was just about the . . . rape,' he stumbled on the word, ‘why is he making allegations that Len Jackson was killed that night?'

‘Who knows? Who cares? Really, in the grand scheme of things, if one criminal goes missing, a criminal no one even misses enough to report missing in the first place, how is it a problem?'

‘It's a problem if the criminal is dead,' he said.

Kate considered him silently from across the table, then voiced what he had been reluctant to: ‘You think I killed him?'

‘I'm just making enquiries. It's my job.'

‘Is it? So you're here on an official investigation then?'

‘I haven't decided yet,' John said, clenching and unclenching his hands.

Kate stared at him a moment, before blinking and straightening her shoulders. ‘If this is a formal interrogation, shouldn't I have a lawyer here?'

‘No one's interrogating you, Kate. I'm just trying to figure out what happened.' He paused, watching her closely. ‘You didn't answer the question.'

She got to her feet and stood at the window, looking out over the paddocks without even seeing them. ‘That night the two people who should have been there to protect me both blamed
me
for what happened.'

‘Kate . . .'

She slammed the glass on the counter with a force that sent it shattering into the sink, cutting her hand in the process. John was beside her in an instant, holding her hand under the tap and reaching for a tea towel.

‘Leave me alone!' Kate cried, snatching her throbbing hand from his grasp and sobbing as she cradled it to her chest. ‘Get out! Go do whatever it is you need to do, but stay the hell away, unless you're coming here to arrest me.'

John stared at her, his breathing fast, his eyes filled with regret. ‘Kate . . .'

‘Get out.' She turned and walked from the kitchen without looking back.

On the nightstand beside her, the mobile rang. The digital clock showed it was midnight. ‘Hello?' There was silence on the other end of the phone and Kate closed her eyes with a tired sigh.

‘Give me a reason, Kate.' John's voice sounded husky, stretched tight as a strand of barbed wire.

She knew what he was asking her. Give him a reason not to do his job. To ignore his duty, to turn his back on everything he believed in. He was willing to do that for her, and the gesture moved her to tears. ‘I can't,' she all but whispered, hearing the soft low curse he breathed over the line.

‘Kate.'

It broke her heart to know the strain this was putting on him. She knew he wouldn't have got any more sleep than she had, and that the ramifications of his actions were going to change things between them, no matter what decision he made.

He was a good man, and a good cop. She couldn't bear the thought of forcing him to choose between her and his principles. Maybe no one would ever know if he turned a blind eye to this, but making him do so would mean asking him to live with the knowledge that he had compromised his duty. She loved him too much to ask him to do that.

She caught her breath sharply.

She loved him.

God help her, she did.

His patience and gentle handling had broken through the barrier she'd erected to protect herself after the betrayal and grief of her marriage.

‘John, I want you to call this in to your superiors and do what you have to do.'

‘I don't think you understand what that's going to entail.'

‘It doesn't matter. Just do it. I'll be fine.'

She heard the defeat in his sigh and wondered if they would be able to salvage anything from this once the investigation was over.

‘I wish I'd never laid eyes on that bastard of an ex of yours,' he growled.

Kate gave a small laugh that ended in a rogue sob. ‘Join the club.'

She disconnected the call and sat for a long time looking down at the blank screen on her phone, wondering what box of horrors was about to be opened.

A little after nine the next day a police vehicle came down her drive. She walked out to meet it.

Standing with her hands in her pockets, Kate gave a nod of greeting as a large plain-clothed policeman got out of the car, followed by a stern-faced John.

John addressed her in a politely distant manner before introducing the other man as Detective Marcus Freeman. Kate eyed him curiously. He had a round happy-looking face, less like a policeman than a favourite uncle.

‘Ms Thurston, do you mind if we come in and have a bit of a chat?' he asked politely.

Kate turned to lead the way inside and offered the men coffee. While she stood at the sink and prepared their drinks, Freeman chatted to her about the weather and the property, and all the while Kate sensed that, beneath the small talk, he was taking careful stock of everything she said and did.

John sat silently at the end of the table, looking as though he'd rather be invisible.

‘I guess you're aware of the purpose of our visit today, Kate?' Detective Freeman started when Kate sat down.

‘I imagine it's about the allegations my ex-husband made to Senior Sergeant Cafferty,' she said without looking at John.

‘Do you have a response to them?'

‘I have many responses,' Kate said dryly, ‘but none of them should be written down.'

‘Do you know why he would make such a statement?' Freeman asked.

‘My ex-husband came here to try and reconcile our marriage, no doubt because he found out I'd inherited this property and thought he could get his hands on some money. When I told him there was no way we would be getting back together again, he threatened to make trouble.'

Freeman nodded, his face neutral. ‘However, there does appear to be some merit to the allegations he's made.'

‘Such as?' Kate asked calmly.

‘For starters, the person in question appears to have vanished from the face of the earth,' he said, his shrewd gaze holding hers steadily. ‘His trail went cold around the same time he would have been here. Tell us what happened that night, Kate.'

‘I was attacked by Len Jackson.'

‘Maybe in a little more detail.'

‘He arrived here with my mother. When she was asleep, he forced himself on me.'

‘Why didn't you run to your grandfather for help?'

‘You didn't run to Henry Campbell—for anything. He wasn't exactly caring.' Her tone was dry as gum leaves in summer.

‘So why didn't you tell this to the police when they got here?'

‘I was fifteen, had just been attacked by my mother's boyfriend and discovered that my mother had killed herself. I was in shock.'

‘Why do you think your mother killed herself?'

‘She'd been taking drugs for so long she'd become irrational. She took it as some kind of personal affront, that her boyfriend no longer found her attractive or something.'

‘I just find it strange that there was no mention of Len to the police.'

‘You obviously haven't ever met the police officer they had here back then.'

‘Bob Bartlet?' Freeman asked, after consulting a small notebook.

Kate gave a ghost of a nod. ‘Not what you'd call the warm fuzzy type.'

‘The problem is that there was no mention in any report of Len Jackson having ever been here.'

‘My mother killed herself—so there was no crime and no reason to mention him.'

‘It does seem a tad unusual that there was no mention of a boyfriend having arrived with your mother.'

‘Nobody asked if she came here with anyone.'

‘So this man, who had been a criminal his entire life, suddenly vanishes from the radar—he never commits another crime after the last armed robbery that occurred three months before your mother's death?'

‘I have no idea what happened to him after that night. But a wanted man is hardly going to hang around to give a statement to the police, especially considering he'd just raped his girlfriend's daughter, then fought with his girlfriend not long before she shot herself.'

She saw the detective make a note of something and wondered what it meant. She wasn't game to look at John: her emotions were far too fragile for that.

Looking up, Freeman cleared his throat and pushed away from the table. ‘Well, I think we have enough for the moment. We'll be back in touch with you as soon as we've had a chance to go over your statement and make further enquiries. Thank you for your cooperation.'

Kate blinked and released the breath she'd been holding, standing and giving a nod in response, then stepping back to allow him to pass.

‘This picture,' Freeman said, pausing by a photo on the hallway wall. ‘Am I mistaken or is this building,' he pointed with the tip of a pen to a small shape on the grainy photo, ‘no longer here?'

Kate frowned and peered at the photo. ‘I don't really remember—' She stopped suddenly. It had taken her a moment to remember what the building had been. It was the old falling-down stable that used to be located where the machinery shed now stood. In the past it had housed a number of things, including an old furnace. ‘I was gone for a long time, maybe it fell down. The buildings are pretty old.'

Freeman didn't make any further comment, but he did continue to stare at the black and white photo for a few moments, before sending her a brief smile and heading out to the car. John also gave a quick nod, making his way down the verandah stairs without looking back.

She didn't wave them off, she could barely keep herself standing upright. Making her way into the kitchen, she slumped down into a chair. Her hands were shaking and she quickly laced them together, placing them on the table before her. She rested her head on her hands and tried to gather her scattered emotions.

There were no tears. She'd cried enough of those these last few days. With a steady breath, she lifted her head and forced herself to think of the future. Whatever that might bring.

The launch of North Star farm-stay holidays was a low-key affair. Brochures had been sent out to travel agents and ads had been placed on internet sites and in newspapers. Then it was just a matter of waiting for the first booking. Kate began to have serious misgivings when the first few calls she received failed to result in any bookings. Then, finally, after the second week, they had their first confirmed booking.

Kate settled into the role of hostess, finding she enjoyed paying special attention to the small details that made a visitor's stay memorable, from the freshly baked baskets of goodies she prepared for morning teas and lunchtime picnics, to the time she put into preparing each guest's activities.

For families with young children she made sure there was plenty of baby animal feeding and egg collecting. She'd invested in a Shetland pony named Charlie who provided hours of entertainment, and Liam had taken over the animal's care and feeding. The milking was a huge hit, as Nathan had predicted, and nowadays Kate even looked like she knew what she was doing. She made it a tradition to have a campfire evening at least once with each group of guests, and it became an anticipated event, not only for the guests but also for her own kids.

Most children who came out to the property were wide-eyed and nervous around the animals at first, but they flourished under Liam's care and instruction. It was like watching a big brother teach his younger siblings. Only a few months before, he had been a timid, sad little boy, and now here he was showing kids, some a few years older than him, how to milk a cow and feed a calf a bottle of milk.

While Georgia was not as hands-on—and she still refused to go near poor old Betsy—she enjoyed handling the bookings and reception side of the new venture, and her people skills were definitely improving. She was showing a maturity and professionalism that made Kate almost burst with pride.

All in all, the business was doing great. It was her love life that had come to a screeching halt.

John had called her after the police visit, but the conversation had been stilted and formal. After that she'd switched her mobile off and screened her home phone calls.

She wasn't sure how she felt any more. She knew she was in love with him, but reliving the past, having her humiliation aired before him, had felt like being degraded all over again. Surely he was thinking twice about becoming involved with her now that he knew what her childhood had been like. How could he look at her in the same way having heard what that man had done to her? How could he find her attractive when she felt so dirty and unclean herself?

For so long she'd pushed away her past in an attempt to create a new life. Now it was like a monster, awakening from a long deep slumber, determined to terrorise her all over again.