To somehow forge a way forward.
Who was she kidding? There was no way forward.
She was alone for ever.
Dolphin Creek’s tiny police station was on the main street. Barry usually slept out on the veranda-it was cooler that way-and right now he appreciated it. Right now he needed as much cooling as he could get.
He was suspended. Suspended pending investigation.
He knew what that meant. The end of his police career.
But why? For the life of him he couldn’t appreciate why everyone was so worried about the low-life criminal element he dealt with. And he was a good cop. He knew he was. Much better than the mealy-mouthed, psychology-trained cadets coming into the force these days.
He didn’t like the direction the force was taking. Maybe it was time he moved on.
But he had no wish to move on. Despite the hassles he’d had over the last couple of years, despite the implied demotion in being sent to Dolphin Creek, he liked being a policeman. He liked wearing a gun on his hip and having people treat him with the respect he deserved. He liked neatness and order, and he liked people paying the penalty if they flouted that sense of order.
So what was happening to him right now made no sense at all to the aggrieved police officer. He’d shot an illegal refugee-a criminal. A person of no worth at all. And now he was going to lose his career because of it.
His anger was building all through the night. He lay awake and stared out at the deserted street and thought about it. And fumed. And somewhere in the time between darkness and dawn the fine line between reason and irrational fury was crossed.
That was how he was when he saw the woman. She was a ragged figure, carting what looked like the doc’s big medical bag down the street, darting from shadow to shadow.
He did nothing. Who gave a toss? he thought sourly. He could bring her in. That’d please them. But then, why should he lift a finger to help? Damn them all. They could go chase their tails.
He was suspended.
Only then he saw her go past again, a stooped figure pushing Florence Trotman’s wheelbarrow. She was still darting from shadow to shadow, pushing the barrow before her.
He watched for a while and saw her for a third time. This time her barrow was loaded, not just with the doctor’s bag, but also with a pile of things that looked from this distance like basic supplies. Mounds of bottled water. Bread.
Petty pilfering. Why should he care?
She didn’t look anything, he thought. Certainly not the hardened criminal he’d thought was probably behind this whole thing. She looked…pathetic. Maybe she was a stooge, expendable, being sent into town to fetch.
Taking her out would achieve nothing. There must be someone behind her.
She was headed north.
Were they hiding north, then? Despite his determination not to get involved, he couldn’t prevent a rousing interest. He lay back on his bunk and tried to figure it out. Who would have thought that they’d hide out north of the town? They must have skirted the town’s boundaries, maybe coming close so they could steal.
Where would they hide within wheelbarrow-pushing distance north of the town? The land out there was barren. Empty. There were only the cliffs.
The caves. If they’d come down from the hills looking for supplies then the closest place to hide would be the caves.
Stuff it, he wasn’t going to help. He was suspended.
He lay still. But his mind wouldn’t cease thinking.
Sarah was quickening her steps as she walked back towards town. She’d come too far. Soon the team would be heading out to the wreck and she needed to go with them.
But still nothing was resolved. The ache in her heart was as dreadful as ever.
No matter. Only work mattered. Work was her salvation. Not this deserted beach. Not this time.
Not Alistair.
Reluctantly she walked on-and then she paused. There was a figure coming down the sand-hills towards her.
For a moment she thought it could be Alistair and she felt a jolt of pure wild hope. Stupid hope.
Was it? She shaded her eyes. The sun had crept over the horizon now, and was a low, golden ball in the morning sky.
Who was it?
Not Alistair. No.
She walked a little further and the figure turned into a woman: a woman dressed in something that might once have been some sort of Eastern European gown but was now ripped and ragged. A bloodstained rag was tied around her wrist. The woman was walking haltingly, staggering a little on the soft sand.
Sarah stopped. Her heart rose almost into her mouth. Dear God…
‘Noa?’ Her voice was a whisper. She raised it a little. ‘Are you Noa?’
The woman didn’t respond. She kept walking towards her, each step deliberate, her eyes on Sarah’s face. One hand was held behind her back, the other was held out almost in entreaty.
She neared her. Three yards. Two.
Her hand came out from behind her ragged gown. A gun pointed straight at Sarah.
Both women stopped. The gun stayed rock-steady.
‘Come with me,’ the woman said. ‘Come with me now. Your people have killed my husband. Now you save my son or you die.’
CHAPTER TEN
THE interview with Howard took a good hour, but maybe it was worth it. Alistair and Larry had listened to Howard’s rambling story. At the end of it they had a formal statement, duly witnessed.
‘It’ll help,’ Larry said in satisfaction as they left the room. He glanced down at the name Howard had given them. ‘This is great. I know him. We’ve been after this guy for years. There’s been nothing but suspicions, but now a statement in front of an independent witness… It’s fantastic.’
‘All we have to do is find these people.’
‘Yeah.’ Larry nodded. ‘We leave at six.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s five o’clock now. Not worth going back to bed.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘Who needs sleep?’
‘Obviously not us,’ Alistair agreed as they walked out to the hospital entrance together. He thought of what he intended doing right now, and sleep was way down on the list. In truth, it was so far down he couldn’t even see it.
All he could see was Sarah.
But then his thoughts were interrupted. His truck…
Alistair’s truck was parked just by the hospital entrance, and the damage was apparent the moment they stepped out through the door. Someone had smashed the rear window. A shower of broken glass covered the ground around it.
Why?
One glance and it was obvious.
Alistair’s doctor’s bag was gone. All the medical equipment he left permanently ready for emergencies had disappeared.
The cave was located in just about the last place Sarah would have thought of searching. Where anyone would have thought of searching.
For a start, the cave was north of the town, and the plane had been wrecked to the south. It was set in the
