Deadly Tide. Sandy Curtis
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up.'
'Probably running low on fuel like we are,' Grady remarked.
'No, they haven't been at sea long enough. It's a full moon in two days and there won't be anything to catch, so they'll be going home to unload.' He pushed the binoculars back into their case. 'Which is exactly what we'll be doing soon. But tomorrow night we have a pickup and delivery to make.'
'G'day!'
Chayse looked around. The call had come from a tawny-haired young man walking down the wharf. 'Name's Rogan. My partner and I run the reef adventures boat over there.' He tilted his head towards a sleek dive boat tied up to the next wharf. A few metres longer than the Sea Mistress, with two rubber dinghies on the awning covering the spacious back deck, it appeared freshly painted and well maintained.
'What do “reef adventures” consist of?' Chayse asked.
'We cruise passengers around the islands and reefs and take them fishing and diving. I was wondering if you have any prawns for sale?'
'Sorry, mate.' Chayse shook his head. 'We've unloaded the lot. You should have come over earlier.'
'Only just got in,' Rogan grinned.
'Do you operate around here all the time?'
'We take divers to Lady Elliot and Lady Musgrave islands and the Swains Reefs. Why? Do you want to change jobs?'
As Chayse scrubbed at the salt spray on the wheelhouse windows, he laughed. 'No. Just wondered if you see the Kladium much.'
The grin left Rogan's face, and Chayse realised he wasn't as young as he had at first seemed. Probably in his early thirties. 'They friends of yours?'
'No. Their deckie owes me money. Just thought you might have seen if they were coming back in.'
'Haven't seen them this trip. Not that I'd want to. That skipper is a ...' He broke off as the phone attached to his shorts' belt rang. It was obviously a business call because he started talking dates and costs. Chayse caught the words 'group of women', then Rogan winked at him, waved his free hand, and walked away.
Chayse made a mental note of the boat's name. He'd have to make a point of talking to Rogan again and finding out what he knew about the Kladium.
'As soon as the load's sold, you'll get your share, Chayse,' Sam said when she came back on board, 'but it won't be for a few weeks.'
'Then you won't mind if I stay on board till we sail again? It will save me some money, and be more security for the boat.'
She hesitated, but only for a moment. 'You're right, it would be better if someone stayed on board. I'll get you a key to the gate.'
He'd taken off his T-shirt, and his shorts had slipped down a little, exposing more corded stomach muscles than she felt any man had a right to have. Dark hairs formed a line down from his navel, and her gaze strayed lower before she could stop herself. She suddenly realised what she was doing, and was mortified to find herself blushing.
To hide her confusion, she hurried into the wheelhouse. 'I'll give you my home phone number,' she called over her shoulder, 'and my mobile. In case anything goes wrong.' She scribbled the numbers on a piece of paper on the table, and turned back ... and bumped into the chest she'd been admiring. If watching had made her blush, it was nothing compared to the feeling that swept through her as her hand flattened against his small hard nipple and the warm skin surrounding it.
The paper fluttered to the floor.
'Sorry.' There was no contrition in his voice, and even less in his eyes, but he stepped back and scooped up the paper. She felt a sudden loss, as though she'd come tantalisingly close to something she needed but had let it slip away. Her bag was on the lounge, and she picked it up. 'I'll ... see you later.'
'Okay.'
She was halfway up the wharf before she remembered about arranging a key for him.
At eleven o'clock that night, Sam gave up trying to sleep and settled on the lounge with a book. She'd slept that afternoon, and spent the evening doing her washing and going through her mail.
Only now she couldn't concentrate. She felt edgy, restless. Finally, she had to admit to herself that she was missing Chayse. During the first couple of shots each evening, before Bill took his turn at steering, Chayse had come to chat with her. She was grateful for the distraction. The radar and sounder lights were so bright in the darkness that staring at them could be mesmerising. You could fall asleep for a second, then your head would drop back and shock you awake, afraid you'd been asleep for longer, and feeling guilty because you were responsible for the boat and the lives of the crew.
At least when she'd been a teenager and this had happened to her, she'd had the comfort of knowing her father would wake up at the slightest wrong sound. Now the burden was hers.
She thought back over the long conversations she'd shared with Chayse, the closeness of the cabin, the steady throb of the engine. Although he hadn't disclosed much information about himself, Sam had felt at ease with him and talked about her family and her job. They'd discussed books they'd read and movies they'd seen, the state of the world and how they would change it given the chance. A smile tilted her lips. So easy to be idealistic when they were just a tiny pinprick on a vast ocean.
It had been years since Sam had allowed herself the kind of close companionship she was enjoying with Chayse. And she was also beginning to trust him. Something that caused her a little surprise, and a lot of trepidation.
She put down the book and went to make herself a mug of hot chocolate.
'So Folter did nothing but trawl?' Peter reached out the car window and flicked the ash off his cigarette.
'I thought you'd given up smoking?' Chayse wound down the passenger-side window and gazed across the carpark where they'd stopped. Trees on the edge of the bitumen partially obscured his view of the river below. He hadn't been surprised when his supervisor phoned him this morning to arrange a meeting. It would be a coup for Peter to get something on Kosanovos when the Melbourne police had been unsuccessful for so many years.
Peter ignored his comment.
'What else do you think he'd do?' Chayse snapped. Whatever brand Peter smoked was giving him a headache. 'He knew Sam was there. He just waited her out. But she's still hoping she can find out what he's up to.'
'Does she have a chance?'
'The same one you have of making out with Madonna.'
'That bad, huh.'
Chayse laughed. On the rare occasion Peter displayed any humour, it always caught him by surprise. Perhaps the man was human after all.
'What have you found out about her old man?'
'Until a couple of days ago, Bill Marvin hardly said more than a few words to me at a time. Then he became quite friendly. He thinks Tug Bretton is a great skipper and a good friend who's definitely been framed. His daughter thinks the same. Also, if Bretton is involved in the drug scene he's not making any money out of it. Seems the bank is ready to foreclose on him. So he appears to be what he claims. Someone who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. But I think there's more to it than that.' He related what he overheard Tug and Sam discussing.
'Sounds incriminating,' Peter snorted. 'And if Bretton's so desperate for money, he might have been trying to persuade McKay to give him a piece of the action. They fought, and Bretton killed him,' he speculated.
He twisted slightly so he was looking at Chayse when he said, 'Why don't you just sleep with the daughter? Pillow talk often reveals things people would rather keep hidden.'
Disgust flooded through Chayse. The man was a bastard after all. 'Have you found anything on Sam's attacker?' he asked, obviously changing the subject.
'No, but your description of the man you saw in the pub matches Brickie Tully, one of Kosanovos's long-time associates. Which seems to confirm our suspicions that Kosanovos is bringing drug shipments in through