Page 3
‘Do you remember Cy?’
‘Cy?’ Dru frowned.
‘Yes, Ryan’s cousin. He was best man at their wedding.’
‘I remember now. That was the only time I met him.’
‘Yes, we haven’t seen him since the wedding either. I think he’s stayed away because of his father going to jail.’
‘So, what’s the complication?’ Dru glanced at her watch. ‘Walk with me to my car and tell me.’
Dru held the door open as Ellie held Matilda, and followed Ellie as she walked down the front steps overlooking the circular drive.
‘Kane ran into him a couple of weeks ago in Darwin. He was working at the Berrimah cattle yards, the quarantine place where the cattle go before they’re exported. Apparently, he lost his job as a supervisor. Anyway, to cut a long story short, he hired him to manage our place for the couple of months we’ll be away. He didn’t think of Tarni being in the guest room while she’s here doing the research for the International Horticultural Association. Anyway, when I pointed that out to Cy, Kane rang him and Cy said he was happy to bunk in the work shed with his swag. The problem is that I feel awkward about them both being there. At least there’s a small bathroom in the shed, but they’ll have to share the kitchen.’
‘I think you’re worrying about nothing. Two adults can share a kitchen without a problem. I’m sure everything will work out for you. You worry too much.’
‘Probably.’
Dru unlocked her car and hesitated. She turned to Ellie.
‘How about I talk to Connor, and we get all the family together at our place before you and Kane and the kids leave? Maybe having all of you there might make a difference. Maybe he’ll go back to being the husband I’m used to.’
‘I think that’s a wonderful idea. If you’re sure you’re up to it?’
‘I’m only pregnant, not ill.’
‘Okay, that would be great. I’ll wait to hear from you. You stay in touch.’ Ellie hugged her sister with her spare arm. ‘You promise me you’ll take care of yourself.’
‘Okay, big sis.’
Dru beeped the horn as she turned out of the gate onto the Arnhem Highway.
Ellie stood there for a long time, her cheek against her baby’s soft skin. Her throat tightened as she remembered that dreadful day when sixteen-year-old Dru had rung her at work to tell her Dad was dead. Ellie and Emma had grieved too, but Ellie had never understood the depth of pain that Dru carried inside;
they hadn’t realised that Dru had found him hanging in the shed until a few years after he’d died.
It was hard to see Dru struggling again, and Ellie vowed to herself that she would get to the bottom of it before they left for Mexico.
Chapter 2
Darwin Correctional Centre – early May
Russell Fairweather looked across the table at the young man sitting opposite him. Mayonnaise ran down his bristled chin as Dean crammed a whole sandwich into his mouth and then picked up the second one. Russell suppressed a shiver of distaste and kept his expression bland.
‘So, tell me again exactly what you want me to do. I think I’ve got it right.’ Dean spoke between chewing.
Russell picked up his ham and pickle sandwich and examined it. The bread was a day old and the ham was processed. One of those artificial squares full of salt, sugar, and antioxidants. The pickles were an unnatural yellow. Some nights he dreamed of being in his luxury penthouse sipping on a glass of the finest shiraz with a plate of gourmet pate and imported cheese sitting on the marble table in front of him. Since he’d been in prison, he’d lost a lot of weight, but that was the last thing Russell worried about. His attention was focused totally on seeking revenge on the bitch who’d put him in this hell hole and trying to find a way to get out earlier than the fourteen-year sentence he’d been given by a female bitch of a judge. No more views over the harbour, no more silk shirts or Gucci loafers.
‘You tell me what you understand is your role.’ He pushed back the rage that sometimes clenched his chest in a vice. He’d held a picture of that fucking Porter girl in his head for the seven years he’d been incarcerated. With good behaviour, he could be out in another three years.
‘Okay.’ Dean had been two years into his nine-year sentence for sexual assault when Russell’s incarceration began seven years ago. He would never forget the rage that consumed him that first day. He’d been treated like a lowly criminal, stripped of his belongings, and dressed in prison-issue clothing. He had held his rage in and spent the first night vomiting as his body reacted to his new situation.
Russell’s behaviour in prison had been impeccable; he’d pleaded not guilty in court, but unfortunately, there had been enough evidence for him to be found guilty. He had hired the best defence and if it hadn’t been for that Porter girl shooting him, he would have gotten off the conspiracy to commit murder charge on a factual defence.
Dean put the second half of the sandwich on his plate and placed his hands on the table. Russell wondered if the guy copied his movements consciously. ‘There will be a work ute waiting for me at my parents’ house the day after tomorrow.’
‘That’s correct.’ Russell still had contacts outside. Having one of the correctional officers in his pocket had made his incarceration slightly more bearable.
