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‘He took off about four or five weeks ago, but I can’t tell you where.’
‘Can’t or won’t?’
Her quick question almost caught him off guard. Almost. ‘I can’t tell you,’ he said in a take-it-or-leave-it tone. ‘All I know is he’s left the district.’
She frowned. ‘It just doesn’t seem right. Didn’t Tim tell you anything about where he was going, or what he was going to do?’
Kane shrugged. ‘This is a free country.’
She shook her head and dragged in a deep, dissatisfied breath through her nose.
‘Out here, people can come and go as they please,’ Kane said in defence. ‘It happens all the time. Isn’t that what travelling is all about? Being free to take up whatever opportunities arise?’ He shot her a deliberate, searching glance. ‘Maybe your brother wants to cut the apron strings.’
Her response was to glare at him, but he merely smiled.
‘You can’t keep a young bloke like Tim on a short chain for ever.’
She gave an impatient toss of her bright brandy hair. ‘That’s more or less what the police said, but I won’t accept that.’
‘So you’ve already been to the police?’
‘Of course. I spoke to them in Townsville. They’ve listed Tim as missing, but they were far too casual for my liking. They spun me the line that young people go missing all the time. They said that most of the youngsters are deliberately running away, but I know that Tim wouldn’t do that.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
There was a warning flash of green fire in her eyes. ‘I know my brother. I’ve raised him since our mother died when he was seven years old.’
This time Kane couldn’t hide his surprise. ‘You must have been very young to take on that kind of responsibility.’
‘I was fourteen.’
‘You’ve done a grand job.’ He switched his gaze from her earnest face to the bottom of his beer glass. ‘So what else did the police tell you?’
She sighed. ‘Not much. They’ve checked Tim’s bank account and there haven’t been any withdrawals. They say that’s good, because his account hasn’t been stripped and that suggests that there hasn’t been foul play. But if Tim hasn’t used his money, couldn’t it mean that he’s had an accident? He might have perished somewhere and no one knows about it.’
‘I wouldn’t start panicking just yet,’ Kane said gently. ‘I paid him in cash, so he would have been well stocked up when he left here.’
The clip-clip of Marsha’s heels sounded on the wooden floor. As she reached their table and handed out glasses, she eyed them both with a sweet-and-sour smile. They thanked her and took their time sampling grateful sips of their cold drinks.
The silence was broken by the clink of ice against glass and then another sigh from Charity. ‘I know I must look like a fussy mother hen, but I can’t help worrying,’ she said. ‘Tim’s so young. He’s only just turned nineteen.’
There was a short gasp of surprise from Marsha. Kane shot her a sharp, silencing frown.
‘Out here, if a boy’s nineteen, he’s old enough to vote, old enough to drink and old enough to fight and die for his country,’ he said.
‘That may be so, but I intend to find him. If you can’t help me, could you suggest where I should start looking?’
He shrugged. ‘He could be anywhere.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘I’m sure you can do better than that.’
Kane sighed. He should have known from the moment she walked in that this girl was a crusader who wouldn’t give in easily.
‘Okay, I’ll give it to you straight.’ With a forefinger, he ticked off the fingers on his left hand. ‘Your brother could have taken another mustering job on a property farther out, or he could be droving cattle up north in the Cape, which would mean spending six or eight weeks on horseback. He could be fishing for barramundi up in the Gulf, or he could be on a prawn trawler out of Karumba.’ He eyed her slowly. ‘You want some more?’
When she didn’t answer, he gave a slight shake of his head before continuing. ‘He might be gold prospecting out the back of Croydon, or fossicking for sapphires down at Annakie, or he could be sitting on a bar-stool chatting up a Swedish backpacker on Magnetic Island.’
As she listened to his list she chewed her lower lip—her soft, petal-pink lip—and he couldn’t help staring.
She shook her head. ‘But if Tim was doing any of those things he could have phoned us, emailed or written a letter.’
Kane shrugged again. ‘I’d say he’s too busy, or too remote.’
Charity stared into her glass, swilled the ice cubes and took another thoughtful sip of her drink.
‘Trust me,’ Kane said quietly, keeping the expression on his face deadpan. ‘Your brother’s okay.’
‘But how do you know that?’
Abruptly he drained his second beer. ‘Look, you don’t want to hang around here. This isn’t the place for you. You should head back to the coast. Why don’t you see a bit of Australia? Have a bit of a holiday while you’re out here. I have Tim’s home address. I’ll contact you if I hear something.’
He knew she wouldn’t be happy to be dismissed so soon, but she’d asked her questions, he had answered them and now he wanted her to leave.
To his surprise she accepted this.
With a series of nervous gulps she finished her gin and tonic. ‘Thanks for the drink,’ she said. ‘I was hoping you could help me, Mr McKinnon, but as you can’t I’ll try to find someone else in this district who might have known Tim.’
Then she jumped to her feet and was just a little unsteady. How much gin had Marsha put in that drink?
Holding out her hand, she said, ‘Thanks for your time.’
‘Just remember my advice,’ he said. Her hand felt soft and he was conscious of her delicate bones as he clasped it. ‘Don’t hang around here. Get back to the coast and have some fun.’
She turned to Marsha, who looked decidedly chipper all of a sudden. ‘It was nice to meet you, Marsha.’
‘You, too, Charity,’ she said, giving a little wave.
Holding her head high, Charity turned and walked very carefully across the bare wooden floor to the bar’s entrance. Kane remembered the conviction in her eyes when she’d entered the bar not so long ago, and he wasn’t proud that he’d managed to knock the stuffing out of her so easily.
Thanks for nothing, Mr McKinnon.
As soon as Charity reached the little foyer at the front of the pub, she slumped on to a wooden bench, swamped by anger and disappointment.
She’d come all this way and she’d pinned so much hope on Kane McKinnon’s help and all he would tell her was to get out of the district.
There’d been an air of secrecy about him that disturbed her. Was it a natural reticence or a wall of defence because he had something to hide? She couldn’t shake off the feeling that he’d been warning her off or, worse still, that his words had been a threat.
But if he wouldn’t help, where else could she go for assistance? The police had been next to no help and she had no one else to turn to. She was in a strange country as vast and alien as the moon and she couldn’t think what to do next.
Kane McKinnon had suggested that Tim was having such a wonderful time that he’d simply forgotten to keep in touch. Could that be true? Had she been expecting too much of her brother? Perhaps the boy had fallen head over heels in love. It was possible, but it didn’t really explain his silence.
‘Your Tim was a cutie.’
Startled, Charity turned to see Marsha. ‘Oh, hello.’
‘He was a real gentleman,’ Marsha said, stepping closer. The huge silver loops in her ears made soft tink-tink sounds when she moved.
‘Did you know Tim very well?’
‘Well enough.’ The woman’s face was a picture of sympathy as she plonked down on the seat next to Charity. ‘To be honest, I thought Kane was a bit rough on you. After all, you’ve come such a long way and you don’t know anyone here.’
Charity’s eyes widened, signalling her deepening surprise.
‘Why don’t you come with me? We can have a nice little chat about your problem. Girl to girl.’
‘That’s kind of you,’ said Charity, trying to hide her surprise.
Marsha was very different from the kind of women who normally befriended her and the last person she’d expected to offer the hand of friendship was Kane’s woman. At least, she assumed Marsha was Kane McKinnon’s girlfriend. No doubt he had a string of girlfriends. She supposed that most women would find his silver-blue eyes and hard packed, lean body attractive.
Marsha smiled. ‘Why don’t we go and have a quiet drink in the beer garden?’
‘Oh, thank you…’
How could she refuse? She had so few options it would be foolish to do so. Charity rose and followed the other woman through a side door into a surprisingly pretty, shaded courtyard. The area was paved with black and white tiles and protected from the sun by a vine-covered pergola. A border of huge fern-filled hanging baskets made the area feel very secluded.
‘It’s quieter out here,’ Marsha said, nodding towards the only other couple, who were seated at a far table.
‘It’s lovely.’
‘You take a seat while I get us another drink.’
‘Please, let me pay.’ Charity pulled her purse from her handbag, but Marsha dismissed her with a wave of her hand. ‘You can get the next round,’ she said with a grin.
Charity doubted that she could handle a third round. Perhaps it was the heat, but the first drink had left her feeling just a little unsteady but, before she could say so, Marsha disappeared.
She returned very quickly. ‘Cheers,’ she said, clinking her glass against Charity’s.
‘Cheers.’ Charity took a small sip. ‘Do you work in Mirrabrook?’
‘Sure do. I have my own hairdressing salon. I’ve stacks of clients. Most days I’m run off my feet.’
‘You must be good.’ After another sip, she set her glass down. ‘Was there something you wanted to tell me about Tim?’
The silver earrings tinkled as Marsha leaned closer and lowered her voice. ‘Just between you, me and the gate post, I’m a bit worried about the dear boy. Tim promised to see me on my birthday, but he didn’t turn up.’
‘He promised to see you?’ Shocked, Charity picked up her glass and drank deeply.
Marsha smiled slowly. ‘Does that surprise you?’
‘I—er—it does a bit.’ She didn’t want to think why Tim would visit Marsha. She couldn’t even begin to let her mind go there.
‘It didn’t make sense that he disappeared,’ Marsha said.
‘So you think something’s happened to him?’
Marsha frowned. ‘I’m not sure, but I’m happy to help you find out.’
‘That’s so kind.’ Charity wondered if she’d misjudged this woman. Perhaps she’d been leaping to all the wrong conclusions.
Marsha smiled again and reached out and squeezed Charity’s hand. ‘Drink up. I’m sure we women can work something out.’
CHAPTER TWO
CHARITY looked for Tim everywhere.
Racing through the rectory on winged feet, she searched every room, under every bed and inside every cupboard. She flew up to the attic, then charged back down to the kitchen to check the pantry. As a last resort she checked the study, although she was quite sure her little brother would never venture uninvited into the hallowed sanctum where their father wrote his sermons.
Tim wasn’t there.
Outside, a storm raged—a noisy, boisterous storm that rattled the window frames and sent tree branches thudding on the roof.
Dashing to the window, she peered frantically into the black night and saw the stained glass windows of St Alban’s church glowing like gemstones through the dark, driving rain.
Grabbing a raincoat, she ran out into the storm. She tried to call Tim, but the wind and the rain whipped the words away and she hadn’t thought to bring a torch, so she had to feel her way forward like a blind person.
‘Tim, please, where are you? I can’t bear this awful worry.’
Then, somehow, she knew the answer to her own question. He was in the graveyard.
A bolt of lightning lit up the churchyard, showing her the way through the dark night. On legs rubbery with fear, she scurried past the yew tree behind the church, ducking between the gravestones, slipping on the wet grass and trying not to think of ghosts.
She found Tim huddled on the grave where their dear mother lay.
Such a forlorn, shivering, little boy of seven, clinging to a block of cold marble, his black hair plastered to his head and his pyjamas soaked through.
Her heart broke as she swept him into her arms. He clung to her and he was as wet and slippery as a frog, with bony elbows and knees.
‘I want Mummy,’ he sobbed. ‘I want her. I want her to come back.’
‘Oh, darling.’
She couldn’t be angry with him. All she could do was cuddle him close and cover him with kisses. ‘I’m here, sweetheart. I love you. You must let me be mummy now.’
To her horror the boy struggled out of her arms and took off, running away from her into the stormy night.
‘You’re no good. You keep losing me,’ he cried.
And he disappeared into the black.
