Fatal Flaw. Sandy Curtis
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even when Anne remarried and moved to Sydney.
Now Julie displayed the same disillusionment with Ray Galloway that her mother had. 'No,' she replied. 'If my father is here it's because he has a reason other than common decency and respect.'
Their conversation continued, though along less personal lines, and carefully avoiding the circumstances of Gordon's death, but Mark was aware that Julie's earlier banter had dissipated. She kept glancing over to where her father now sat next to Claire, and her forehead would crease in worried lines before she turned her attention back to Mark.
Fifteen minutes later Mark watched as Ray stood and touched Claire solicitously on the shoulder and then strolled towards their table. Mark rose and offered Ray his hand, catching a whiff of the cigar aroma clinging to Ray's suit. 'Thanks for coming, Ray.'
The smile on Ray's lips wasn't reflected in his eyes as he gripped Mark's hand. 'Your father was a good friend for many years, Mark. I had to pay my respects. Will you be returning to Canberra soon, or staying for a while?'
'I think Claire will need me for some time yet.'
'Of course.' Ray turned to Julie. 'I can give you a lift back to the office.'
It wasn't an offer but a command, and Mark saw the flare of resentment in Julie's eyes. She pulled a biro and small notepad from her handbag, scribbled something, ripped out the page and handed it to Mark.
'It's my home phone number. I'd like to catch up.'
Mark watched the stiff set to her shoulders as she preceded Ray from the restaurant.
Mark pressed the roller door remote and drove into the garage of his parents' double-storey cream brick house. Set on a one-and-a-half-acre block, it was no longer the home his stepmother loved, but a reminder of the horror that had greeted her a week ago when she'd found Gordon's body, and she was now staying with Susan and Tom.
Dinner at his sister's tonight had been a listless affair, and Mark had left early, a headache of immense proportions already starting.
As he turned off the Falcon's engine and pressed the button to close the roller door, he resisted the urge to lay his head on the steering wheel and give in to the pain. He stumbled to the door leading into the kitchen and unlocked it.
The house was dark and cool, the quiet almost soothing. Enough moonlight filtered through the window to allow him to grab a glass and fill it with water. Even on the stairs he preferred to feel his way, and it was only in his bedroom that he switched on a lamp, its soft glow providing enough light to find the painkillers the doctor had prescribed.
As he lay in the dark and tried to distance himself from the agony in his head, he found himself aching for the gentle touch of a woman's hand.
At 3am the shopping centre was devoid of even the hoons who took pleasure in leaving patterned rubber in the car park. The figure who strolled through from the adjoining block of buildings appeared to be in no particular hurry. The office he wanted was on the outside of the complex, and he was grateful for that. Deactivating the alarm system for the entire complex would have been impossible without inside knowledge and access, but he knew he would have no trouble with the security system where he needed to go. And his angle of approach ensured he escaped the security camera's range.
In less than thirty seconds he had entered the office and closed the door behind him. The blinds across the big glass windows were closed, but he didn't risk turning on the lights. A high-topped counter created a barrier between the reception area and an office. He flicked on his torch as he walked through the doorway, past two cluttered desks and into an interior room. Only when he closed this door did he risk turning on the light.
He picked the lock on the filing cabinet and skimmed through the files, only occasionally pausing at some documents. Two locked drawers on the big wooden desk proved no greater obstacle, but their contents failed to yield what he sought.
A picture of Queen Elizabeth II stared down from the wall as the man pounded the desk in frustration. He strode from the room, paused in the outer office, then shook his head as though telling himself that whatever he searched for would not be found there. Checking first to ensure that he could see no-one outside, he slipped from the office and pulled the door locked behind him. He re-set the security system, and hurried away.
Gaynor Farrell laughed softly as she ran her hand down the groin of the man who shared her bed, and curled her fingers around his erection. She loved the way he woke with such a fantastic hard-on. Her mouth widened at her choice of words. Hard was definitely right. She felt herself moisten in anticipation. With practised ease she slid across his body, well aware that behind his closed eyes he was just as awake as she was.
But his body stayed still as she positioned herself so that she teased the tip of his penis, not quite allowing it entry. Suddenly she plunged down, taking him in with a swiftness that made them both gasp with the brutality of it.
He moved then, grabbing her hips and pulling her onto him again and again, his breath harsh grunts, lifting his hips to grind into her. She knew he liked it like this, swift, hard, with no preliminaries and no pretence of love. Lust, pure and simple. It suited her perfectly.
His mobile started to ring, but he ignored it, too caught in his final rhythm to be distracted. Gaynor was relieved. Her own climax was close and she would have been furious if she'd been denied completion. He groaned in triumph as he slammed deep inside her and shuddered, and she moved faster to catch the wave that shook her body and left her, breathless, sprawled across his chest.
A few minutes later the mobile rang again. She rolled off him and watched as he reached over to the bedside table. He flicked up the mobile's cover and barked 'Yes'.
Gaynor watched the expression on her lover's face and winced as he muttered a string of expletives. Coffee. Strong. It sounded as though he would need it. Maybe they both would. She swung her legs off the bed, stood up and walked to the en suite. She wanted to shower first.
At the doorway, she turned and glanced back. Oblivious to his nakedness, he paced beside the bed, his genitals flopping against his thick thighs with each impatient step. The heaviness of his torso was normally disguised by clothes, and she wondered, suddenly, why she was attracted to him.
With an abrupt thump he threw the mobile onto the bed and stared at her. In that instant she knew why she was with him. And why she wouldn't leave. She was attracted to powerful men, and Ray Galloway was that in spades.
As she met his gaze, a tiny shiver of fear ran down her spine. No, she wouldn't leave him. Not until he was ready to let her.
CHAPTER FOUR
Mark was surprised to find he'd slept in. Everything in his life seemed to be changing, and he wasn't sure if he knew where he was headed.
His headache had eased, but the aftermath of the painkillers had left him slightly groggy. He padded to the bathroom, feet silent on the hallway carpet. Minutes later he stood under the shower, cool needles of water washing the heat from his body and the fog from his mind.
By the time he'd devoured fruit juice, pawpaw, bacon and eggs and toast and coffee, the depression that had engulfed him when he'd watched Julie walk away yesterday had lifted. The burning anger at his father's senseless death still simmered, but he knew that would stay with him a long time.
He took the piece of paper Julie had given him from the top pocket of his shirt and walked into his father's office. Pain shafted through him at the sight of the desk. Organised chaos, Gordon used to call it, and he could easily extract the document he needed from the paperwork strewn in apparent random order across the surface. Mark snatched up the cordless phone, walked into the living room, and dialled.
'City Morgue. You kill 'em, we chill 'em.'
Mark listened in surprise to the young voice, then heard Julie calling out in the background, 'Andy! Don't answer like that. You don't know who it might be.' A scuffle sounded, then the high-pitched laugh of a boy on the cusp of manhood, and finally Julie's breathless 'Hello?' came through the line.
'Sounds