Dance with the Devil. Sandy Curtis
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on finishing what he'd started.
'There's a rifle - but I took the bolt out. I couldn't trust Dad with it, he - '
'Emma! Karl! Are you in there?' A deep male voice sounded from the front veranda.
Emma sighed with relief. 'It's okay,' she reassured Drew, 'it's J.D. He owns the adjoining property.'
'Can you trust him?'
'With my life.' Emma watched Drew's frown deepen and wondered at the cause, then walked to the front door. She felt a rush of affection for the big man standing on the veranda, shaking rainwater from his coat and hanging it beside hers. Without his help this past year she wouldn't have been able to keep the property from deteriorating even further than it had.
'I found your horses on my land, Emma, so I brought them back. I put them in the stables.' There was no smile on his face. The brooding question in his eyes made Emma realise he must have seen the grave.
'You'd better come in, J.D. There's someone I think you should - ' she broke off as his gaze swung up behind her and she saw the tensing of his shoulders under the denim work shirt, the tightening of his jaw. She knew she would see Drew behind her if she turned around. She gestured over her shoulder.
'Drew Jarrett - meet John Devlin O'Connor.'
Ten minutes later they were seated in the kitchen with Emma making coffee and toast as she filled J.D. in on her father's death and Drew's arrival.
J.D. ran a hand through his thick brown hair. 'I'm sorry about your father, Em, but maybe it was better for it to happen this way.'
Emma caught Drew's puzzled look. 'My father had Alzheimer's,' she explained. 'It was getting very hard to look after him - he had few lucid moments.'
'And the rest of the time he was an abusive bastard,' J.D. broke in. He held up a placating hand at Emma's protest. 'I know you loved him, and he was a good man before, even if he was too hard on you and your mother, but he made your life hell this past year, Emma.'
He switched his attention to Drew. 'You look familiar, Drew. What do you do for a living?'
'I'm a lawyer.'
J.D. raised an eyebrow. 'That might make you a more likely candidate for crucifixion, but that's not where I've seen you before.' Suddenly he smiled, strong white teeth brilliant against the weather-tanned skin of his face. 'State triathlon titles last month. You came third. It took a lot of guts to keep going after that spill you took in the bike leg.'
'Triathlon?' Emma echoed.
'You know, Em - twenty-kilometre runs, two-kilometre swims and thirty-kilometre bike rides to see who's the fittest of the fit.'
'I know, J.D., I just didn't think…'
'Would you mind if we concentrated on working out who in this valley might want me dead?'
Emma saw the embarrassment on Drew's face. 'The man who came fourth?' she joked, and tried to stop her smile at the look he flashed her.
She was grateful J.D. had come. Grateful not to be alone with Drew after that devastating kiss. It had shaken her - right to her toes. But it was Drew's caring, his tenderness, that made her feel vulnerable. And vulnerable wasn't a feeling she was comfortable with.
'Have you any idea what this man - you said you thought of him as the devil - looks like, Drew?'
Drew described his unsuccessful attempt to escape. The impression he had from the brief feel of the man as he'd grabbed him, was of an extremely tall man, heavily muscled, with longish hair.
'There was something about his skin texture…' Drew closed his eyes, let his mind, his body, remember.
'His neck…the skin was loose, not firm like a young man's. He could be in his late forties - perhaps older.'
'Well, I know everyone in this valley, Drew,' J.D. spoke with conviction, 'and no-one fits that description.'
'He couldn't live too far away, J.D.,' Emma broke in. 'Drew was still chained up when the storm with the purple lightning started. So if you take out fifteen minutes by the time this man whipped and nailed Drew - ' she stopped, the empathy which made her such a good doctor seeming to work overtime where Drew was concerned. Her flesh cringed with the pain he must have endured.
'The storm lasted about twenty minutes here. It had moved in slowly from the north-east. Then it was about two hours before the winds reached cyclonic force.' J.D. rubbed his jaw. 'It could mean they live in the valley north of this one, or further to the east. But if that storm was widespread, it would be possible you were brought here from the south-east.'
'And we're only assuming the woman who saved me knew Emma was a doctor. It could have been pure coincidence I was dumped here. And maybe…maybe he didn't want to kill me. Just inflicting psychological and physical pain might have been his idea of revenge.' Frustration gnawed at Drew. There had to be some way of working out where he'd been held prisoner. If only he hadn't lost consciousness in the van. Ten minutes or two hours - he didn't have a clue.
'What I can do is radio the police in Cairns and let them know.' J.D. said. 'The only road out of here is cut by the floodwaters from the river so you won't be able to get back for a few days at least. And the rescue helicopters will be too busy with the victims of the cyclone to have time to take you out.'
He stood up. 'Em, I'll get the police to tell your mother about your father's death and let her know you're all right. And I'd be happier if you both came and stayed with me.' J.D. sighed his frustration as Emma began to protest, then continued, 'Do you want me to let anyone know you're safe, Drew?'
'Just ask them to contact my office and tell my colleagues what's happened. Ask if they could arrange for someone to pick up my vehicle from the fishing shack.'
J.D. nodded and said to Emma, 'Get your dad's rifle, Em. You'd better get it working just in case.'
As Emma walked from the room, J.D. turned to where Drew sat at the table. 'I wish Emma wasn't so stubborn about staying here. I don't like the idea of some lunatic looking for you, and Emma getting in the way and being hurt.' His expression darkened. 'And I don't want Emma hurt by you, either. Understand?'
'No-one will hurt Emma while I'm alive.' Drew spread his bandaged hands on the table. 'And I'd nail myself to this table before I'd deliberately hurt her.'
J.D. nodded, apparently satisfied. Then his right eye closed in a slow wink. 'I'll come back with some clothing for you. Seems to me Karl's shorts aren't doing a good enough job.'
Emma slipped the safety catch on the rifle. Her fingers caressed the worn timber butt. It felt like a lifetime ago she'd fired at a cardboard target on a tree, her father's rough voice both encouraging and criticising her.
She'd never been good enough, no matter how hard she'd tried, never been the son he'd always wanted. Even when, after months of practice, she could hit the bullseye nine out of ten shots. She wondered bitterly if ten out of ten would have been good enough.
'Did you come home to look after your father? You said you'd only been back here a year.' Drew's voice brought her back to the present.
She nodded. A year. The longest year of her life. The constant strain of looking after an adult who behaved like a petulant child one minute and a tyrant the next, had been exhausting.
'Where were you before?'
'Africa. Europe before that. I work for Médecins sans Frontières - Doctors without Borders - or I did until I found out how quickly Dad had deteriorated.'
'Did you resent having to give up work to look after him?'
'Resent?' She considered the word. 'Not really. In a way I was pleased to come home. I thought for once Dad might need me.' She laughed bitterly. 'I thought he might even be grateful. For once, just once, he might even tell me he loved me, might even say he was proud of me, that I'd done something…'
She broke off, embarrassed. Her father's lack of ability to display his love had hurt her deeply, a hurt she had never