One Hour to Midnight (34 page)

That folder lay untouched on the table. She knew she had to deal with it, but not just yet.
Coward! Ignoring it won't magically make it disappear.

With a reluctant sigh she sat on the cane sofa and with fearful slowness, she opened the folder, not quite sure what to expect.
 

The first page was a copy of that hideous photo that had been pinned to the steering wheel of her car.
 

Yannis's body! I didn't realise.

Only this one had the official seal of the Melbourne Coroner's Court.
 

Veronica's hand shook as she picked up the coroner's report.
 

She'd never seen it and didn't know what verdict he reached over her lover's death.
 
This was yet one more item Leon had decided not to share with her.
 

Now, as Veronica read the official report of the events leading up to Yannis's death her heart slowly broke and all her idealised, youthful dreams shattered.
 

Everything Sonia and Leon related was laid out in black and white script, detailed in police evidence, Federal Police evidence, the human trafficking ring, the young women rescued from a life of degradation.
 

There but for the grace of God go I.
 

And Leon Karvasis.
 

How often had she heard Kathleen say that? Now Veronica understood the true meaning of the old saying.
 

Shell-shocked, she continued to read, determined to know every last detail. Laid out with clinical detachment, was the money Yannis owed to gambling syndicates, the impact Yannis's embezzlement had on Karvasis Inc.

She laid the report on her knee and stared out the window.

McKenna's words echoed.
Leon worked like a dog cleaning up the mess Yannis left
.

 
And what was it Milas had told Tania?
 

Karvasis has held onto control tighter than a miser holds onto a bag of gold.

The comments made much more sense after reading the contents of this official report. How had Leon managed to stave off bankruptcy?

And yet he'd somehow managed to find the money he'd given her, so she could start a new life.

Blood money,
she'd accused Leon. An accusation that now left her shamed.
 

His brother truly did deal in
blood money.

Yannis entrapped young, vulnerable girls and sold them into sexual slavery. The only good thing to come out of his death was the Federal police were able to shut down at least one human trafficking ring.

Sick at heart, Veronica stared unseeingly at the chalet wall.
 

And to think I honestly believed Yannis loved me. Loved and wanted our baby. How could I have been so very wrong?

And Yannis? Where had he gone so wrong? Why had he sunk so low?
 

Suddenly, she was overwhelmed with grief, huddled there, sobbing her heart out.
 

The end of the sofa depressed and Flynn's concerned face appeared through a blur of tears. "You okay?"

Veronica nodded, but the tears kept falling. Somewhere inside her a dam burst.

Flynn stood up and returned a moment later with a box of tissues.

Grateful, she accepted them, blew her nose and mopped her face but nothing could stem the torrent of tears.

Without fuss, he made her a cup of tea, took the tissues and gripped her hands. "You need to stop, Veronica, you'll make yourself sick again."

Somehow, she managed to bring the tears under control. She mopped her streaming eyes and sipped the tea, grateful for it and Flynn's pragmatic presence.

"I'm sorry," she was first to break the silence.

"You're entitled, Veronica."

Flynn had that right. She was entitled.
 

Yannis was her first love, his impact on her life huge, yet she'd never mourned him. Or come to terms with his treachery.

After Leon had taken her to Claremont, she was so preoccupied with all the other pressures in her life she'd not been able to deal with Yannis. Then everything became submerged beneath the grief of losing Jordan.
 

How did she feel about Yannis now?

She traced a shaky fingernail along the edge of the file. Looking back, she saw his diabolical plan with clarity. The pointers were all there but she'd been too blinded by passion and youth to be able to recognise them.
 

"Did you know Yannis?" she looked up at Flynn.
 

"Not well, but I knew him."
 

Did I ever know him?
 

Now with the bleak insight of maturity, she knew Yannis was not the man she thought she'd known.
 

"What was he like? McKenna told me he was much indulged as a child."

"That I don't know. As an adult, his wild, dark streak brought him grief. His was a dangerous double life that caught up with him in the end," Flynn said grimly.
 

It was that streak in him that first caught her attention. Fresh out of school, on her own, Veronica went wild in her new found freedom. She'd set off on her Australian adventure with the blithe, cocky assurance of youth, utterly convinced she was bullet-proof.

Yannis was my rebellion against my upbringing
.
 

And recognising this brought with it lessening of the burden of guilt.
 

"He was totally without conscience." Flynn broke into her unhappy thoughts.

"Did you know what he planned?" Veronica ran a fingernail around the rim of her teacup. How many people knew of Yannis's diabolical plan?

She shivered.
 

"No one knew until he phoned Leon. If Leon hadn't had the Lear jet at his disposal he could never have reached you before the enforcers did."

Another shiver shook Veronica. "Leon had a Lear Jet?"

Flynn nodded. "It was one of the first things to go."

"Leon sold things? To pay Yannis's debts."

"Among other things." He gave her a hooded glance.
 
"His cars, property, antiques, race horses. He liquidated a lot of assets."

"To pay me out?"

"He never regarded it as a payoff, Veronica. He was horrified by his brother's activities. You were only one of more than a dozen girls Leon supported into a new life."

Veronica stared at Flynn. "There were that many?"

"Those were the only ones we could find." Flynn raked a hand through his greying hair. "Thousands of girls go missing without trace every year in Australia."

How easily I could have been just another statistic.

He leaned across and patted her hand. "Gambling is an evil mistress. Yannis was a weak man caught in its toils and driven to ever more desperate measures to keep one step ahead of his creditors."

"But to traffic in people?" She shook her head.

"It's bad for sure, but it's no worse than drugs that kill millions inch by inch every year."

"And in the end he paid with his life." She put aside her cup and saucer and looked directly into Flynn's gun metal grey eyes. "He must have thought a bullet preferable to being caught by enforcers."

"Never doubt it." Flynn's grim words sent an icy chill down Veronica's spine, his hard gaze ever wavered. "Those thugs take payment any way they can. If not in money, then they'll exact it in suffering."
 

Nausea roiled in her stomach. There was no way she could mistake his meaning.
 

"You okay now?"

Flynn's words jerked her from introspection. "I'm fine. You don't need to baby sit me."

"Leon asked me to keep an eye on you."

"Do you report every detail?" She watched him warily.

"If you're asking about this," he sketched a hand at the tea things and tissues. "No, I turned the monitors off the morning after you decided to stay."

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

When he was gone, Veronica finished reading the file.
 

It was grim reading, but nothing much was new or surprising. With the wisdom of maturity she recognised how her youth and infatuation had played into a devious man's hands.

At last Veronica laid it aside. Could she make peace with its contents?
 
That was the sixty-four thousand dollar question.

~***~

Leon walked quietly into Veronica's bedroom. Jordan was asleep on her bed, Mutley and Franklin curled up beside him.

The big cat opened one amber eye. Leon was sure it was giving him the evil eye. Since Veronica had been at the chalet the animal had moped around the house, his plaintive wailing nearly driving them all spare.

Leon was as unsettled as Veronica's cat.

The house echoed without her. He missed her quiet presence. At night while he read the paper, she sat in the chair opposite, head bent over her tapestry listening when he commented on articles, often surprising him with her insightful and thought provoking comments.

The evidence of her presence was everywhere, none more so than in this room.
 

It smelled like her. The light vanilla scent of the cream she used permeated the air.

On the antique dresser, her collection of silver animals was displayed around the photo of Jordan he'd given her that first day at her Albany home.

The window seat was now furnished with tapestry cushions adorned with puppies, kittens, geese and flowers, testament to her expertise and exquisite needlework.
     

The book Jordan was reading was on the night stand on top of a soft leather bound bible. On Sunday, Veronica left the house at dawn to attend the early service. When she'd missed attending service this week, the priest had phoned to ask after her health.

Embarrassed, Leon was forced to admit she was spending some time alone in the mountains. He'd been both chastened and surprised by the priest's response.

"I suspect Veronica will derive great benefit from this spiritual retreat. It's well overdue that she takes some time out for herself."

Long after he'd finished the call, Leon stared at the phone.

First Flynn and now the priest, what did they see that he'd never even thought to look for and consequently had missed completely.
 

I hope she's deriving some benefit from it, because I'm not. How can I miss someone who's only been here such a short time?
     

And now, her absence was making him feel mighty uncomfortable in his own skin.
   

The house ran like clockwork under her management. Unobtrusively, Veronica liaised with Cassie, arranged menus and discussed household expenditure. She'd implemented changes that resulted in considerable savings in household bills. And all this was accomplished without any dissension between her and Cassie.

Veronica had also worked miracles with Jordan.

With a minimum of fuss, she'd gone to his school, sorted out lesson plans with his teachers and set up a routine for him that didn't tax his strength. Jordan blossomed under her sensitive care. He was happy, had structure in his life and didn't get bored with the enforced solitude Professor Carey insisted they keep in place for at least another month.

Nor did Veronica constantly nag him to go to parties or on social outings.

Leon tried to imagine Julia coping with their current restrictions, and couldn't see it.
 

He pulled a face.
 

Jordan's illness had greatly restricted his social life.
 

Julia had never been content to sit at home two nights in a row. How would she have coped with three months virtual isolation?
 

Veronica was the opposite.

She was content to relax at home with her needlework, reading to Jordan or just listening to him reading the paper. And now, her absence reinforced how much he'd taken her undemanding serenity for granted.
 

That thought increased his guilt.
 

Why did it take her absence to make me appreciate how much I value her? How much she's come to mean to me, and to Jordan?
 

And how much I miss her in my bed?
 

That thought made him hard. Beneath that quiet exterior was a passionate woman.

A woman who could well already be carrying my child.
 

Once that thought would have pleased him enormously, now it only added to the uncertainty that dogged his every waking moment.
 

What would happen if Veronica was pregnant and she demanded to return to New Zealand?