Dark Country (33 page)

A magpie warbled in the garden, and Kris jerked out of her daze. Not a good idea to fall asleep in this sunshine with skin
as fair as hers. Not that she couldn’t have done with the extra sleep – it must have been four in the morning before Megan
had talked through her thoughts enough to sleep – but there were things to do. Questions to answer, crimes to solve, so that
Gil, his friends and his daughter could move on with their lives without fear.

In the homestead kitchen she put a fresh pot of coffee on to brew. Before retiring to the coast, Mark’s parents had enjoyed
entertaining, and the size of the renovated kitchen reflected that. Mark had updated it further, and now granite, timber and
stainless steel blended together in a modern, practical workspace that nevertheless complemented its historic origins. If
the woman Mark eventually ended up with was a cook, she’d love this room.

She sat at a circular table near the large windows overlooking the terrace, took out her phone and switched it on. Gil and
she had stressed to the others last night not to turn their phones on, just in case someone had access to phone company data
and could track them here, but according to their cover story, she was supposed to be here.

The phone bleeped with a message. Steve’s brief text read:
Call me asap
.

Steve answered almost immediately. ‘Look, Kris, things have hotted up overnight. Petric’s been on the phone. Vince Russo’s
solicitor was shot dead last night in his office. A
security camera shows him being escorted in at gunpoint by two masked men.’

Gil walked into the kitchen, and she held up a finger to alert him. He’d shaved, she noticed, the dark shadow he’d carried
on his chin since yesterday gone, and he wore a new black T-shirt, fresh from its packaging, the fold lines dissecting his
chest.

‘Vince’s solicitor?’ She tried to give some clue to Gil about Steve’s news. ‘But what’s his murder got to do with Gillespie?’

‘It wasn’t the only thing that happened last night. Another solicitor’s office was ransacked, complete with the safe-room
door being detonated,’ Steve continued. ‘Turns out Gillespie is one of his clients. A storage unit recently rented by Gillespie
was also firebombed, and they’re still putting out the fire. And Kent Marshall’s office here was broken into around six this
morning.’

Not good. Any one of those would be bad enough, but all of them together – all linked to Gil – spelled even more serious trouble.

‘Any clue why they’re targeting Gil’s solicitors?’ she asked Steve. ‘This can’t be about the box he dug up yesterday, can
it?’

‘No. Petric got on to the dead solicitor’s secretary this morning. Apparently Vince made a new will, a month or so ago – she
remembers because she and another PA were called in to witness it. There were three copies. One held in the safe room in the
office, and Vince took the other two with him.’

‘They’re searching for Vince’s will?’ She saw Gil’s head jerk up suddenly. ‘But what does that have to do with Gil?’

Even as she asked the question, an answer came that made some sort of sense.
Marci
. If Marci really was Vince’s daughter,
and Gil had looked out for her all these years, there could well be clauses in the will that his legitimate son would want
to see destroyed.

‘Looks like someone thinks that Gil has one or both copies and they don’t want them to see the light of day. Tony’s got a
watertight alibi, of course, but Petric is pursuing enquiries along that general line. Kris, you need to warn Gillespie. And
get him to contact Petric urgently.’

She disconnected, and gave Gil a quick summary of the news.

When she finished, he turned without a word, stood on the edge of the terrace, looking out, and only the rigidity of his shoulders
gave away his tension.

‘Do you know anything about Vince’s will?’ she asked. ‘Do you have it, Gil?’

‘I’ve never seen Vince’s will,’ he said slowly, as if he were working it through. ‘Vince never said a word to me about it.’
He turned to face her, dark eyes meeting her eyes. ‘But I think I know where it is.’

I
hope you won’t need the contents of your safety deposit box in the future
.

Vince’s words at their last meeting finally sort of made sense. The will had to be there – although how Vince had known which
bank, and where the key was, Gil could only guess.

Damn Vince for his machinations and manipulations. A man was dead because of them, and others now in greater danger. If he’d
not left everything to his son, as Tony expected, he should have had the guts to say it to Tony’s face, long ago.

‘You know where the will is?’ Kris repeated.

‘Yes. I have to go to Sydney. Today.’ Although he wouldn’t be able to get into the bank until tomorrow morning, he realised
as he spoke. But there were a few people he needed to see, information to search out. At some stage he’d need to put in a
claim for what had been lost in his storage unit, but that
was the least of his worries. Books, clothes and a few pieces of furniture could easily be replaced, when he needed them.

‘We should tell Petric you’re coming,’ Kris said. ‘Get him to arrange protection for you, safe custody for you and the document.’

‘No.’ His vehemence made her start. ‘I don’t trust Petric,’ he added, quieter.

Cool blue eyes watched him. ‘Have you got a reason for that?’

He shrugged, sought to explain. ‘Nothing solid. The convenience of their arrival the other night. The fact that he’s been
withholding information from you. The fact that he now wants me to contact him, so he can find out where the will is.’

‘What information has he been withholding?’

‘Sergio Russo. You sent him the pictures, didn’t you? The ones from the shed? If Goddard recognised him, shouldn’t a detective
working in Sydney specialising in organised crime have known?’

She thought that over, nodded, accepting the possibility. ‘I could ask Alec what he thinks. He worked with him for years.’

‘And hasn’t for months. A lot can happen in that time, Blue. It doesn’t have to be wilful, a change in character. There’s
plenty of cops dancing to someone else’s tune to keep their families safe. Or because they’ve been hooked on something minor,
and then the crims reel them in.’

‘So, what will you do when you get the will?’ she asked.

‘I’m not sure yet. See what’s in it. Take it to a court or something, make sure there are plenty of copies made.’
Or destroy it, he thought. Vince’s estate couldn’t be worth people’s lives.

She moved to the next veranda post and turned to face him. ‘It’s too dangerous for you to go to Sydney alone.’

‘It’s better if I do.’

‘No, it isn’t. I’m coming with you. Two is better than one, and it might be handy to have a police officer on hand.’

‘Megan needs you to look after her.’

‘Mark’s security system is excellent, and she has Mark, Deb and Liam to look after her. Which is a hell of a lot more than
you have, and why I’m going with you. The last thing Megan needs is for something to happen to you.’

He dredged for more excuses. ‘I’m riding the bike. You won’t want to go that far on the back of it.’

She waved a dismissive hand. ‘I’ve ridden further than that.’

‘It’s dangerous, Blue. I don’t want you put at risk.’

‘If I wanted to play safe, Gil, I’d never have joined the police force. Or …’ She smiled, an honest, wistful smile that wrapped
around his heart and made it hard to breathe, ‘or kissed you. But since I’ve chosen to do both, don’t think for a moment that
I’m going to let you go alone when there’s probably a contract out on your life now. Nor …’ A shadow crossed her face. ‘Nor
am I going to just stand by and not take whatever action I think is necessary to protect this town. I failed them once. I’m
not going to do it again.’

He should argue, refuse, anything but agree to let her walk into the lion’s pit with him.

But while the protective male part of him raged to keep her safe and defended, the part of him that respected her – her courage,
skills, strengths, choices – knew that to deny her would be to deny who she was, and what she needed to do. And the truth
was, he wanted her by his side. He wanted to survive, and her presence
would
even up the odds. But if it came to the worst, he would sacrifice himself to prevent her being harmed.

In the end, they decided to travel via Tamworth, and see Jeanie. It made for a longer journey by several hours, but with the
bank not open until the morning they had time to spare.

It was sheer bloody torture, having her behind him on the bike. For the first few kilometres, on a dirt track, he took it
easy, giving them both a chance to become accustomed to the bike and each other, matching their movements as they leaned to
take the curves. She’d ridden a lot in her youth, she’d told him, and adapted quickly. He’d ridden a lot, too – but rarely
with a passenger. Her hands rested on his hips, and he felt every movement of her fingers, every slight alteration in pressure,
even through his jacket.

After the detour loop to keep off the main local roads, they emerged on to the highway about thirty kilometres below where
the Dungirri road joined it. At the first town, almost an hour later, Gil turned off the highway, cruising down the two blocks
of the main shopping street, and pulling up in front of the only bank he could find. He glanced around as he got off the bike,
but the street was dead quiet. Nothing much happening
on a Sunday, other than a couple of teenagers coming out of the milk bar a block or so down.

He slid off his helmet, and withdrew as much cash from the machine as each of his accounts permitted for a single day. Kris
had her card out, but he handed her a wad of cash and told her to put her card away.

‘You’re supposed to be at Mark’s. We don’t want anyone tracing you through account activity. From here on, we use cash only.’

They rode on. He kept around about the speed limit, not wanting to attract attention. There wasn’t a lot of traffic, and most
of it was trucks – semitrailers, a few B-doubles, the occasional road train. Easy enough driving, despite the distance. Too
easy, because he needed to keep alert, stay awake and focused.

To distract his thoughts from the woman behind him, he kept his brain busy with mental calculations while he kept watching
the road. How much fuel he had left. How far to the next town. How long it would take to reach it. When those calculations
proved too easy, he did a mental review of his investments, their likely earnings given various scenarios of interest rate
variations, share value movements and dividends, and how much he was willing to invest in his next business venture with Deb
and Liam.

A few hours and several small towns passed before he ran out of things to calculate. By then, he’d estimated everything he
could think of – from the goods value and haulage costs of the trucks that passed, to the money Flanagan might have made over
the years through extortion and drug distribution. He hated those kinds of numbers.

The only calculation he was truly interested in was one plus one. He and Kris. Naked. Together …

He dragged his brain away from that equation. Desperate for the continued mental diversion, he started working out a rough
financial plan for the hypothetical purchase and renovation of the Dungirri pub. Definitely hypothetical, the way the numbers
kept coming out in negatives.

Road signs eventually appeared, announcing Tamworth, around the time his mental exercises ran out. They stopped for food on
the outskirts, talking little as they quickly ate. They circled the hospital a couple of times before parking, checking for
anyone watching the entrances, but saw nothing obvious. Nor did Gil notice anyone suspicious as they walked down the long
corridors, only hospital staff constantly on the move, and a few visitors here and there. If anyone was watching who visited
Jeanie, they were damned good at being inconspicuous.

Sitting up in bed, in a private room, Jeanie looked pale, but she was pleased to see them, stretching out her hands to take
theirs despite the tubes that dangled from her arms. Gil squeezed her fingers softly, worried about the needles stuck into
her hands, not sure what to say. Seeing her awake and alert was a relief, but she was still weak, too fragile, tiny against
the pile of pillows.

Kris leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. ‘You gave us a scare, Jeanie. I’m glad to see you looking better. How are you
feeling?’

Jeanie smiled at both of them. ‘Tired, but okay. The doctor says one of my heart valves has a problem. I thought I was just
getting old, but she says that with a new valve, I’ll be fitter
than ever. I’m to rest here for a few more days, and then they’ll probably send me to Sydney for the operation.’

Perching on the edge of the bed, Kris asked, ‘Nancy’s been looking after you well?’

‘Yes. She’s just gone for a walk, to get some air. She said …’ Jeanie’s fingers gripped tighter around Gil’s … ‘She said I
have you two to thank for getting me out of the fire. I don’t remember it, but thank you.’ Her eyes brimmed with tears, and
she squeezed his hand again. ‘Thank you, both of you, very much.’