The Girl in the Hard Hat (34 page)

‘Hello, Gavin. Is something wrong?’

‘You still have your sights on Peter, right?’

‘Yes, of course.’ Janet was immediately concerned.

‘He’s still in Perth?’

‘Yes, staying at the Hyatt with a couple of his cronies.’

Gavin felt his heart rate slow.

‘Why, what’s happened?’

Gavin glanced at the paper, knowing that if he told her about it, she’d have him out of there immediately. He couldn’t go yet. There was too much to do and Carl still wasn’t ready to take the reins back. Besides, she’d said it herself: Peter was still in Perth.

‘Oh, it’s nothing.’ He forced his voice to be even. ‘Paranoia, I guess. I just thought I might have missed a call from you or something.’

‘Well, there’s no sense in staying in Wickham if you’re worried. I’ve got a house for you in Exmouth ready to go.’

‘Not just yet.’ Gavin paused. ‘I’ll let you know.’

He rang off, looked at the paper again. If Peter wasn’t here, could he have sent one of his men instead? Under any other circumstances he would have thought so. But he’d had the pleasure of meeting Peter after Eddie’s court sentencing. About a week after his brother was put away, Peter had been waiting for him on his doorstep. He’d stayed in the shadows until Gavin had stepped out of his car and onto the drive.

‘Geez, you work late,’ were the first words out of the druglord’s mouth.

It had taken Gavin a few seconds to figure out who the person addressing him was. He’d seen Peter in court but he’d always looked somewhat tidier in a suit and tie. In jeans and a T-shirt, he could now make out all the tattoos on the criminal’s arms.

‘That’s right.’ He nodded just as Gavin connected the dots. ‘I’m Eddie’s brother, Peter. But you can call me Skinner. You crossed the wrong family, mate, and it’s time you paid your due.’

‘My due?’ Gavin had taken a step back.

‘Come now, don’t tell me you had no expectation of repercussions.’ Peter cocked his head to one side. ‘Believe me, your punishment is so important, I wouldn’t trust anyone else with it. I’m the only person who can get it right.’

Gavin withdrew his mobile from his pocket. ‘I’m calling the police.’

In hindsight, it had been a dumb move. Peter had slapped the phone out of his hand, so that it ricocheted off his car and onto the driveway, smashing into pieces.

As Gavin was still processing the destruction of his phone, there was a flash of steel and then a knife entered his chest, luckily on the wrong side of his heart.

He felt no pain. No doubt it was all thanks to shock. As Peter withdrew it, he murmured, ‘Twenty cuts for twenty years.’

The knife was yanked out, sending him staggering back, but it came back all too quick, this time just below the ribs.

Survival instinct must have kicked in then because as the knife came out, Gavin brought his fist up and smashed it into Peter’s face. The man fell back laughing. But it was enough time for Gavin to stagger to his car.

This time the pain was unbearable.

He knew he had but seconds before another wound would take him. His vision was blurring yet somehow he held on to his faculties and was in the car, pushing the central-locking button with not a millisecond to spare.

Peter’s right fist was pounding on the window and he was yanking on the door handle with his left hand. His lips were snarled back against his teeth as Gavin fumbled desperately with the keys.

Come on. Come on. Come on.

The window smashed.

The glass against his face felt like rice confetti compared to the agony in his side but in the same moment the engine roared to life. The sound was like cavalry horns to a dying man who could no longer hold his fort. Shoving the gearstick down in reverse, he accelerated and the car jerked back. Peter, who had his hand through the window trying to grab the steering wheel, was thrown off balance and landed on his arse as Gavin reversed like an L-plate driver out of the driveway. The last glimpse Gavin had of Peter was in his rear-view mirror. He saw the blurred image of a man with a red fist staggering across the front lawn in an effort to get to his own car, parked down the street.

Gavin didn’t attempt to drive to the hospital. His shirt was soaked to the skin with his own blood and he was fighting nausea. He was going to pass out. He could feel it coming. He made it instead to the nearest petrol station, where a terrified teenager screamed at her manager, ‘Come quick!’

Gavin still coudn’t believe that the jury at the following trial had failed to find Peter guilty beyond reasonable doubt for the knife attack.

After that, his family had packed up and moved to Melbourne and he’d packed up and moved to Perth. The Witness Protection Program had seemed like salvation. Five years on, it was more of a prison.

But at least he knew one thing. Peter wanted this revenge for himself. He wouldn’t be sending anyone if he could help it. So what was with the paper? Who had shoved it under his door?

Mike?

To be honest, he hadn’t really given the old man or his threats much credit. After all, he was being protected by the federal government. How was a sixty-year-old with one foot out the retirement door possibly going to breach their walls, find out who he really was and then summon Peter Marshall to the Pilbara? It was a bit of a joke really.

Still, no other explanation immediately presented itself. He wondered if he should show the story to Mike and gauge his reaction, just to be sure. Not bothering to change out of his work clothes, he left his donga once again with the paper in hand.

A quick drop-in to reception and a short chat with Ethel apprised him of Mike’s donga number. There was no guarantee, of course, that the older man would be in. But he’d try all evening if he had to.

Mike’s donga looked a little rundown. His flyscreen was full of holes, which he’d covered over with duct tape. As luck would have it though, he opened the door first knock.

He didn’t look pleased to see his project manager. ‘What are you doing here?’

Gavin grinned at him. ‘I missed you. You haven’t been by in a while.’

‘Cut to the chase, Gavin.’

‘Thought you might have dropped something.’

He held up the paper as Mike stepped out of his donga, leaving the front door wide open. The site supervisor had his boots off but was otherwise also still in his work gear. A car magazine lay open on his unmade bed. Snatching the paper from Gavin’s fingers, he read the headline with a frown and then turned the paper over as though looking for a punchline. It wasn’t there. He shoved the paper back in Gavin’s hand. ‘I don’t get it.’

Gavin raised his eyebrows. ‘Not yours?’

‘No.’ Mike snorted. ‘Look, I don’t know what game you’re playing and frankly I don’t care, as long as you stay away from me . . . and my family.’ He turned to head back into his donga and Gavin was just about to turn away when he noticed something about Mike’s room.

His desk was broken. One leg was bent out of shape.

Gavin’s eyes flicked quickly to the air conditioner, which was askew in its hole in the wall and not plugged in. Clearly indicating Mike had never used it.

Faulty, perhaps?

Gavin’s gaze jumped back to the man’s bare feet. Two toes missing. Wendy’s voice jogged his memory. ‘He has an injury on his right foot that scarred him for life.’

Aw, man!

He jumped up the step to Mike’s threshold and wedged his foot against the door before Mike could close it.

The older man started as the door jammed. ‘What now?’

‘That’s why you’re so protective of her, isn’t it?’ Gavin’s voice was breathless. ‘That’s why you fixed up her donga for her. And that’s why you’re scared to bloody death of even looking her in the face.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Mike growled. ‘Take your bloody foot off my property.’

‘Welder, aren’t you?’

‘What?’ Mike shook his head, as though trying to clear the buzzing of annoying insects. He pushed the door against the force of Gavin’s boot.

But Gavin didn’t budge and continued speaking, unperturbed. ‘Originally, you were a welder. I met your wife once. No kids though . . . at least not with her.’

The splotches on Mike’s skin seemed to stand out all the more as his face lost blood.

‘Get out of my donga, engineer.’

Too late.

Gavin was already seeing puzzle pieces he hadn’t realised he’d been collecting clicking into place. And the sight of the picture they made was boiling his blood. ‘Do you know what hell you’ve put her through this year trying to find you? She’s an emotional train wreck. Doesn’t know who she is. Doesn’t want to trust anyone any more. Did you know she gave me a hundred bucks to change her car battery because she couldn’t believe that anybody would do anything without an ulterior motive?’

‘I’m warning you! Go away!’ Mike seemed desperate now.

‘I think you’ve done enough warning and not enough explaining,’ Gavin shot at him. ‘And I’m not buying it. You need to tell her. She wants to know. She needs to know. And at least if she has the truth, she can stop fretting about it. Because, believe me, you are not worth fretting over.’

‘I know it!’ Mike burst out. ‘That’s why I don’t want her to know. I have no excuse, you see. I’m just a lousy human being.’

‘
Really
? I could have told you that.’

‘I slept with my brother’s fiancée!’ Mike let go of the door and stepped back, hard, callused hands clutching his bald head. ‘How do you come back from something like that?’

‘You need to tell Wendy. You need to make it right for her.’

‘You don’t understand.’ Mike spread his hands. ‘I didn’t actually know she was my daughter. Like
really my daughter
until she told me a couple of months ago.’

‘So what?’ Gavin could feel his impatience rising. ‘You should have told her then if that were the case.’

‘I’m never telling Wendy.’ Mike’s tone was adamant, his features set like plaster.

‘Why the hell not?’

‘It would just be bad news. Why upset her?’

‘You should tell her because it would be the unselfish thing to do.’ Gavin glared at him. ‘You can’t keep it a secret because you’re too ashamed. I’m sure she’s not going to try and force you to be part of her life if you don’t want to be. She just wants to get her identity straight. I mean, you obviously care about her.’ He waved a hand at the mess that was Mike’s donga.

Mike looked away, a muscle flexed in his jaw. Gavin could see that the man was torn. And he really should have butted out at that point. After all, this was a family matter and not his family to boot. But he just couldn’t help himself. ‘Okay, mate, I’ll give you a chance to figure this out. But if you don’t come clean soon, I’m going to start dropping some serious hints.’

Mike’s face swung back to his. ‘You wouldn’t. It’s nothing to do with you.’

‘Wendy’s happiness is everything to do with me.’

‘Why?’ Mike’s eyes narrowed on him.

‘Because,’ Gavin finally unwedged his foot and took a step back from the door, ‘I love her.’

Over the next couple of days the weather deteriorated as did both Gavin’s mood and patience. Thanks to his big flapping mouth, Mike now knew his most closely guarded secret. The only thing saving him from humiliation was that he also knew Mike’s.

She was an unspoken bond holding them both at checkmate. A condition Gavin definitely didn’t like being in.

On Friday he received a call from Carl, who gleefully announced that he had just received word he should have his Australian licence back by Tuesday. As piling seemed to be running on schedule too, there was no point in delaying his R and R any longer. Particularly not for a gorgeous blonde with long legs he had no business looking twice at. So he began to set in motion plans to fly out to Exmouth the day Carl got back to work. He knew his case officer would be pleased that he was finally thinking about taking care of himself. He called her to let her know his intentions. In return he learned that Peter Marshall had made no attempt to fly out from Perth since they had last spoken and, in fact, was busy meeting and doing business with some of his Western Australian connections.

There was just one ordeal left to get through – Lena’s morale-boosting gathering at Point Samson pub. Carl had been all for it, especially when he heard it wasn’t Gavin’s idea. Not that it was a bad plan. He knew the men loved Lena’s excursions and social functions and he couldn’t fault the girl for her enthusiasm. It was just that the last function he’d attended at that particular pub had been a disaster for him. He was sure this one would be equally bad.

Why?

Wendy would be there.

No doubt dressed to the nines and the target of every pick-up line ever invented. He knew his men and was under no illusions. They would recognise an opportunity when they saw one. Particularly considering he’d been protesting for the last month that he and Wendy were not an item. It was going to be difficult to keep his fists in his pockets all night. Then, of course, there was a possibility far worse than that. He almost couldn’t bear to contemplate it.

What if she met someone nice? He could hardly complain if some decent bloke decided to try his hand and she went along with it. After all, wasn’t her happiness what was most important?

As acting project manager, he had to at least show his face or it would be bad form. He definitely had no intention of drinking heavily though or staying long. After a quick dinner and a couple of hours of small talk he’d be out of there. Dressed carelessly in jeans and a collared short-sleeve shirt, he took his own ute to the venue so that he’d have a quick getaway.

The Point Samson pub was quite a large facility, set up with both indoor and outdoor bars. For drinking, the outdoor bar was much more popular because it was set on a large balcony that overlooked the ocean. He walked in and took in the scene at a glance.

Carl was in high spirits and had clearly hit the grog hard. He was dressed in a Hawaiian shirt, also known as his party shirt, and was ordering a jug. Surrounding him was Dimitri, Chub, Craig and a good many others Gavin easily recognised. Sharon, one leg still encased in a large plastic boot, was standing further down the bar with a cocktail in one hand, chatting excitedly to Lena and . . . Wendy.