Make Love Not War (26 page)

Something had died inside her. Only the thought of Andy, on his way home from Vietnam in God alone knew what condition, stopped her from collapsing in a heap on the floor. She was certainly being dragged through the corridors of hell today.

She wrote a brief note.
Goodbye, Bryce, I hope you find the happiness with Ashley that you couldn’t find with me. Caroline.

“I’m ready to go now.”

The lieutenant gave her a strange look. Probably thinks I’m a cold-hearted bitch because I’m not screaming. If only he knew. The pain and betrayal was so deep, so excruciating, her brain had instinctively switched into survival mode.

The sergeant picked up her case and they left the apartment, leaving her dreams blown to smithereens, and a cavernous hole in her heart.

***

Bryce loosened the collar of his shirt as he fumbled with the apartment door key. It was so late Caroline would probably be in bed. He should have waited and caught an early morning flight home, but he wanted to see her. He was desperate to take her in his arms and spend the night making wild, passionate love. God, he couldn’t believe how much he had missed her, how much he needed her.

Next time he went away he would take her with him. He opened the door and switched on the light. Like a slap in the face, the coldness assaulted him. The place felt as if all the warmth had been sucked out of it. A sudden feeling of foreboding slammed into him with the force of an out-of-control locomotive.

The place looked immaculate as always. There were no flowers. He dropped his bag on the floor and dashed into the bedroom. Empty.

His mouth dried up and his stomach muscles clenched as he frantically rushed into every room searching for signs of life. He found none. His apartment was cold, sterile, dead, because Caroline wasn’t in it.

Was she sick? Met with an accident? He dashed back out into the kitchen, skidding to a halt on seeing the store cards, the keys and jewelry. Snatching up the note in trembling hands, he read it. Brief, to the point.

Bloody Ashley had presented herself at his hotel room early in the morning. He’d heard the phone ring as he stepped out of the shower. Wrong number, she had called out. It must have been Caroline. Naturally she would think the worst. Who could blame her?

He prowled up and down, still holding the note. Where would she go? He lit a cigarette and inhaled the smoke, trying to get himself under control.

Her old apartment was the only place he could think of. Even though it was late, he dialed the number.

“Who is this,” a male voice said.

“Bryce Harrington. Who the hell are you?”

“Steven Branson,
Australian Federal Police
.”

“Federal Police?”

“Yes.”

A sick feeling rolled around in
Bryce
’s
gut. Kerry was a shrew, a raving bloody lunatic, but not criminal.

“I’ve just come back from a business trip. My wife isn’t here, so I thought she might be staying with Kerry. They used to share the apartment.”

“We’re interested in speaking to your wife, too. Where is she?”

“How the hell do I know? That’s why I’m ringing.” What was wrong with these people? “Do you know who I am?” Bryce went on furiously. “The Harrington name carries weight. I’ll have your job for this.”

“I don’t think so. We have evidence that your wife is mixed up with hiding draft dodgers.”

“What are you raving about? Caroline wouldn’t have anything to do with those peaceniks.”

“Trevor Higginbotham burned his call-up papers and refused to present himself for induction into the army. There’s a warrant out for his arrest.”

“What’s that got to do with Caroline?”

“Does your wife have shoulder-length, streaky blonde hair? Slim build?”

Bryce gripped the phone to stop his hand from shaking. “What if she does?”

“She’s been helping them.”

“Rubbish! Her brother is in Vietnam with the army.”

“She met up with Kerry and we followed her to a safe house in Carlton, a known haunt of draft dodgers. By the time we raided the place, they’d all gone.”

“Caroline wouldn’t be involved. She left me because we had an argument.”

“You don’t mind us searching your home, checking your phone records?”

“Yes, I damn well do.”

“If your wife is innocent, as you claim, you should be anxious to prove it.”

“All right.” He reluctantly agreed. Maybe if they could trace the phone calls it would help him find her. He felt desperate enough to try anything. He gave them his address.

“You don’t think she’s in any danger, do you?”

“Who knows?” Branson sounded as if he couldn’t care less about Caroline’s welfare. “They’re ruthless, some of these people. Fanatics have infiltrated some of the anti-war groups. There’s an underground escape route we want to find out about. This kind of treasonous behavior can’t be tolerated.”

“Don’t preach to me. Caroline’s father was a highly decorated soldier who was killed in the Second World War. Her brother is a serving officer, and she’s as patriotic as any of us.” Even as he defended her, the doubts crept in. Kerry and Caroline were close friends. Angry, upset with him, maybe she… He couldn’t believe she would betray her country on purpose, but if she got mixed up with those creeps.

“Tomorrow morning, early,” Bryce said.

“Okay, we should have the phone records by then. You can tell us if you know any of the people she called.”

“All right.”

Bryce gave him the information he wanted and hung up. He prowled around the apartment. Caroline had taken nothing that he gave her, so much for his mother accusing her of being a gold digger.

He should have stuck up for her that Sunday. He had been shocked by his mother’s vitriol and didn’t want to exacerbate the situation, knowing from past experience how vicious she could be if she set her mind to it. When his father collapsed, he was too worried to think of anything else.

He poured himself a whiskey and stared broodingly into the glass as he slumped in an armchair. What if he couldn’t find her? The place seemed empty now, cold as a mausoleum. She had turned his apartment into a home, something he’d never had before.

Why the hell hadn’t he realized? The old saying about you didn’t miss something until you lost it, well, that couldn’t be truer. God, what if he didn’t get her back?  Worse still, if he couldn’t find her? He stood to lose not only his wife but his child.

He hadn’t treated her well. She was warm, generous, had done everything to please him, and what had he done for her?  Shoved some jewelry and credit cards at her, snapped and snarled. God, he’d acted like some tin pot dictator.

She had been hurt, upset by his mother’s treatment, and he had done nothing about it. He couldn’t understand his mother, deliberately trying to wreck his marriage. Telling Ashley where he always stayed in Canberra, encouraging her to go up there and throw herself at him. It might have worked once. Forbidden fruit had always attracted him, before.

He swallowed the rest of his drink and reached for the bottle. But, hell, getting drunk wasn’t going to help. He went to bed, purely and simply because he didn’t know what else to do.

***

Branson, of the Federal Police, arrived at the apartment right on nine o’clock.

“We’ve got the records for the last couple of months,” he said without preamble. Bryce realized most of the calls were his. There was one to his Canberra hotel, so it had been Caroline who rang when Ashley answered it. The other number was in Heidelberg.

“It’s a hotel,” Branson said.

Caroline must have booked herself into it, but why Heidelberg?

“I rang them. She’s there. I’m going over to arrest her.”

“I’m coming with you.”  Wild horses wouldn’t have kept him away. He didn’t trust Branson not to bully her into admitting to some trumped-up charge.

He didn’t tell the policeman about the receipts from the pawnbroker, either. She had gone to a pawnbroker to get the two thousand dollars he had refused to give her. What would she want that kind of money for?  Had she been planning to leave him all along?  His stomach plunged. Did she get it for Kerry, or some criminal?  He couldn’t decide which of the horrible scenarios he preferred.

“Will you take her back?” Branson broke into his brooding after they had been driving for about twenty minutes.

“She probably won’t want to come back.”

Branson gave a harsh bark of laughter. “Aiding and abetting a fugitive is a serious matter.  She’ll be desperate to use the Harrington money and name to save her neck.”

Bryce ignored him.

The hotel turned out to be a clutch of single-storied units set around a concrete square.

“Doesn’t
look
much.” Branson parked the car a little way up the street. “I don’t want to scare her off.”

“She’s not an axe murderer,” Bryce told him scornfully.

Branson led the way to reception, where a woman sat smoking a cigarette. “We know Caroline Harrington is staying here. What room is she in?”

“She isn’t here at the moment.” The woman blew out a cloud of cigarette smoke. “She’s gone to the hospital.”

“Hospital!” What would she be doing in
the
hospital? Oh God, the baby. Bryce felt his heart lurch, and a sick feeling curdled his stomach. “What’s wrong with her?” he asked frantically.

“Nothing. She’s gone to the military hospital.”

“Military hospital?” Branson exclaimed. “Why the hell would she go to a…”

“To visit her…”

“Brother.” Bryce cut the receptionist off. He felt as if a battering ram had slammed into his stomach. “Is he badly hurt?” Oh, God, Andy was only a boy.

“I don’t know. The army contacted her this morning, saying he’d been admitted last night. She went over straight away.”

“Where’s the hospital?” Bryce asked.

“Around the corner, that sprawling blue-gray place.”

“Thanks.” He strode towards the hospital.

“Hey, wait for me.” Branson caught up with him. “I’ll come with you.”

“You want to arrest my wife for treason at the bedside of her wounded soldier brother?”  The last twenty-four hours had been the worst of his life. How badly injured would Andy be? Missing a limb? Fighting for his life? He felt so helpless. Poor Caroline would be distraught. Frightened and upset. Alone, because he had failed to support her.

They entered the hospital and a receptionist directed them to Andy’s room.

“Hell,” Branson exclaimed, as a nurse escorted them into a large ward. “They’re so young.”

Mere boys, most of them, Bryce thought, glancing at the occupants of the dozen or so beds they passed by. Another war. Another batch of wounded heroes.

“How is Captain Dennison?” he asked the nurse.

“He’s seriously wounded, but it’s not life-threatening. He’s pretty heavily sedated. You’ll have to speak to the surgeon when he comes in.”

***

“Andy, it’s Caroline.” Her tears fell onto his face. “Wake up.” She tapped his cheek with her finger. His skin was white as death, but it felt hot.

“Andy, please.”

His eyelids fluttered open. “Caroline?” he whispered. “What are you doing here?”

“You look terrible.” She stared at his legs. They were both in traction and encased in plaster from the knees down. “Are you in much pain?”

“No. I’m drugged to the eyeballs.”

“What happened to you?”

“We were in a convoy. The truck in front of me triggered a mine. It blew them to smithereens and my truck ran off the road and hit a tree.” Andy shuddered. “I remember being chucked up in the air. I woke up in an evac
-
chopper with some medic telling me the bones in my legs were shattered.”

Tears filled her eyes as she reached for his hand. It felt hot, clammy.

“I caught a few bits of shrapnel in other parts of my body. Nothing serious, though.” He gave a strained grin. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Oh, no!” A black mist swirled before her eyes and she started shaking.

“Not that. Shouldn’t be here.” He squeezed her hand. “Here in Heidelberg, I mean. Being evacuated so fast.”

She nearly collapsed with relief. He was talking in riddles and her fuddled-up brain couldn’t grasp what he was saying. He was badly injured but safe. Nothing else mattered.

“I’m just glad you’re here.” Her voice was so scratchy she hardly recognized it.

“A politician and a couple of other dignitaries in my truck were injured, and the government wanted to get them home as soon as their medical condition was stabilized.” He grimaced. “Bad politics to arrange an emergency evacuation flight back to Australia and not have at least a couple of wounded soldiers on board.”

“I don’t care how you got here,” she said fiercely.

“How are you feeling, Caro?” His voice was low now and he looked exhausted.