Luke shifted gear in the arrest van he’d swapped with Will’s. Will had advised him he hadn’t been able to take Wiseman in because the man had gone down with gastro, and it was such a bad case the paramedic had taken him to the hospital. At least it meant Wiseman wouldn’t be going anywhere in a hurry except to the lavatory.
He pulled the station mobile from his vest pocket and noticed that while he’d been dealing with Fletcher and talking to Will he’d missed three texts from Jimmy asking him to call. He punched in the number for the cop shop. Will and Louie would be transferring Fletcher from the van to lockup in about five minutes. He wanted Rachel out of the room while that happened. Jimmy would keep her occupied in the front office.
‘The offender is her ex-husband, Jimmy,’ he said after he’d explained the situation. ‘I don’t want her seeing him.’
‘Oh, right—well, as it happens, she won’t see him.’
‘How come?’
‘She skipped out over half an hour ago. Nicked your car.’
‘She what?’ Luke put his foot on the brake and near-skidded to a halt on the verge.
‘She’s gone to find Mary,’ Jimmy yelled back. ‘None of the Agatha Girls are answering their phones. She did it behind my back. I didn’t know she was—’
‘Why didn’t you tell me earlier?’
‘I’m telling you now. I’ve been calling you for the last twenty minutes.’
‘Jimmy, I’m going to kill you—’
‘Let me bring you up to date first.’
‘Do you know which direction Rachel took?’ Luke asked when Jimmy had finished.
‘North out of town but I don’t know where she was heading.’
‘Sit tight. Anything else, you radio me immediately.’
Luke cut him off and rang Rachel.
‘Luke!’
He closed his eyes as his heart, high in his chest, settled to a more normal position.
‘Where are you?’ he asked in what he felt was a fairly reasonable tone of voice, given the fright his heart had just taken.
‘Oh, God, Luke—I got a text message from Rosita’s mobile.’
‘Calm down,’ he said, checking for traffic and pulling out onto the road. ‘Tell me slowly. Where are you?’
‘The message says Drive on. I’d slowed down, looking for Mrs Frith’s car.’
‘Where were you?’
‘Around Poppy Lane.’
And Mt Girra Road—Christ, Fletcher’s location. ‘I’ve dealt with that one. Someone rang the same coordinates in to Jimmy.’ And likely from the same phone number: Rosita’s. ‘Where are you now?’
‘I got a second text a minute after the first. It said Go back to the station. Tell Weston.’
‘You shouldn’t be out of the damned station!’
‘Did Jimmy tell you what I found out?’
‘Yes. Rachel—where the hell are you?’ Someone was warning her? Why would the someone who had Rosita’s mobile—and presumably therefore, Rosita—warn Rachel to get out of the way? Was it Morrison?
‘Looking for the ladies,’ she said. ‘I’m about twenty minutes north of town.’
‘Get away from there right now,’ Luke told her. ‘Get away from the museum site.’ The woman was going to give him cardiac failure. He checked traffic again, swung the van in a U-turn, and headed for the museum.
‘I see them,’ she said in an excited voice. ‘They’re here.’
‘Who?’ he asked, as he envisioned her coming across the builders.
‘It’s Mrs Frith’s car,’ she said. ‘It’s about two or three minutes south of the museum entrance. It’s parked on the verge but I can see them inside.’
‘Get them to stay put. Make them stay where they are. I’m about five minutes behind you.’
‘Will do,’ she said and cut him off before he had the chance to tell her he was going to kill her for skipping out of the cop shop.
* * *
‘Oh, don’t you look lovely?’ Mary said. ‘Pink suits you, dear. You should wear it more often. Did Luke lend you his car?’
‘Mary, ladies—what are you doing out here? And what’s that for?’ Rachel asked, pointing at the car-jack handle in Mrs Arnold’s hand.
‘Insurance,’ Mrs Arnold said.
‘But we haven’t used it yet,’ Mrs Frith advised. ‘Not even on Wiseman. He’s gone down with gastro. A particularly bad bout.’
‘Wiseman? You’ve been to see him? I’ve spoken to Angela,’ Rachel added. ‘I know what happened to her.’
‘The same with young Rosita,’ Mary said, shaking her head.
‘You have to go home, ladies.’
‘I wanted answers about these builders,’ Mrs Arnold stated. ‘And Wiseman gave them to us.’
‘He didn’t have much choice,’ Mrs Frith said. ‘Amelia threatened to flush his anti-dehydration powder down the toilet.’
‘You can’t stay out on the streets, ladies.’
‘That’s what Mr Morrison said.’
Rachel stared at Mrs Frith. ‘You’ve seen him?’ She could hardly comprehend the force of her concern or the possible danger they’d put themselves in.
‘A very nice man.’
‘Helpful,’ Mrs Arnold agreed. ‘He told us to go home.’
‘Ladies! Peter Morrison is one of the bad guys.’
‘He’s very handsome.’
‘Knows his manners.’
‘He’s got big feet,’ Mrs Frith said. ‘And you know what they say about a man with big feet and big hands—’
‘Mrs Frith, have you been drinking?’ Rachel asked, hoping Luke would hurry up and get here.
‘Hardly anything.’
‘But hardly anything for Freda would put a strong man down,’ Mary said. ‘That’s why Amelia insisted on driving.’
‘Big feet, big hands—’
‘Big heart,’ Mary finished.
‘That’s not how it goes,’ Mrs Frith said. ‘Big feet, big hands—’
‘Ladies, please—’
‘Large penis.’
‘Freda!’
‘It’s true, Amelia.’
Rachel closed her eyes and let her head fall back for a moment. ‘Ladies, this is not some play, this is real life. You shouldn’t be out here.’
‘You’re out here,’ Mary said.
‘That’s different.’ It wasn’t different and Luke would probably kill Jimmy and then kill Rachel.
A police siren sounded in the distance and got louder quickly.
‘Oh dear,’ Mary said. ‘Someone’s in trouble.’
‘Yes,’ Rachel agreed. ‘I think someone is.’
* * *
Luke cut the siren but kept the lights flashing, then got out of the van.
‘Luke!’ Rachel said, running to him. ‘You’re not going to believe what they’ve—’
He took her hand. ‘You worried the hell out of me.’ He squeezed her hand and shook it to get her full attention. ‘If I tell you to do something else today, it’s the cop talking, not the man. Do you understand?’
‘Copy,’ she said with a smile so full of tenderness, it made him want to smile back.
Then he remembered who he had in lockup. ‘I need to tell you something. Before we get to the ladies.’
‘What is it?’ she asked, worry visible on her face now.
‘We’ve got Fletcher.’
Everything that had happened to her flew across her features in sheets of alarm. Luke could almost see each memory flash in her eyes.
He squeezed her hand again. ‘You’re safe. He’s at the station. He’s locked up.’
‘How did you find him?’
He told her quickly. ‘He’s wrecked, Rachel. He can’t hurt anyone now and I doubt he’s hurt anyone in the last few days. Someone from Kalgirri will come out to pick him up. But I’m taking you back to the station and I don’t want you to be panicked when you see him on the CCTV monitors.’
She swallowed, clasped his hand and nodded. ‘I need to look at him. I need to do that.’
‘It’ll be the last time for a while. You’ll probably have to testify—’
‘I’ll do it,’ she said, cutting him off. ‘I’ll do whatever it takes to get him locked away for a long time.’
‘I’ll be with you.’
‘He’s really in that bad a condition?’
‘Totally out of it, more’s the pity. I was looking forward to shooting him.’ He said it derisively because there was no way he’d have simply shot the man, as much as he wanted to.
She relaxed her grip on his hand and pulled herself together. ‘He’s locked up and he’s off the street. That’s the main thing. Now you need to hear what the Agatha Girls have been up to. Don’t be too hard on them, Luke.’
‘Depends on how much interfering they’ve been doing.’ Not to mention how much danger they’d put themselves in. ‘You too, Meade.’ He squashed her hand in his once more, then walked up to Mrs Frith’s car. Rachel went to stand beside the ladies, who were all facing him with resolute expressions. Which gave him an immediate indication that they had indeed been up to some serious mischief.
He put his hands on his belt, his weight on one leg, and gave them his OIC stare. ‘So what have you been up to?’
‘Mr Wiseman’s gone down with gastro,’ Mary said.
‘I’m aware of that. How did you know?’
‘Allow me to do the explaining,’ Mrs Arnold said. ‘Mr Wiseman told us the builders were criminals and that he’d been forced into contracting them by some hideous man who runs a building firm in Perth called Nirvana Interiors. The hideous man is a suspicious creature called Eric. Mr Wiseman wouldn’t give us this man’s surname.’
‘Eric, the suspicious creature?’ Luke kept his features set otherwise he might have smiled.
‘Mr Wiseman said he’d been told to keep an eye on Rachel because her ex-husband was after her—’ Mrs Arnold paused and looked at Rachel. ‘I’m sorry, Rachel, but we are aware of your history. Abuse,’ she announced, with a dip of her chin, ‘whether physical or emotional is more than a distressing scenario of punches and verbal hurts. It lives with one for the rest of one’s life.’
‘She should know,’ Mrs Frith said. ‘Her father was like that.’
‘But I can advise you, Rachel,’ Mrs Arnold continued. ‘That memories will fade and good things will happen again. However, our new friendship in adversity is something we will need to discuss at a later date as there are more immediate emergencies to be dealt with.’ She looked at Luke. ‘I believe the builders at the museum have been charged with further criminal dealings by Eric from Nirvana Interiors—’
‘The hideous one,’ Luke said. ‘I’m sure I’ll recognise him as soon as I see him.’
‘Yes, and I further believe that they are here, waiting for this Peter Fletcher to arrive and hurt Rachel, so that they can hurt him for whatever underhand dealings he’s been involved in.’
Luke figured Wiseman wasn’t exactly in on the shady dealings but he certainly had more knowledge about them than he’d let on, like knowing about Rachel’s association with Fletcher and the abuse she’d taken—which made Wiseman culpable. Which in turn filled Luke with satisfaction because it meant his sorry arse was scorched.
‘You have to come with me, ladies. It’s not safe out here.’ He could hardly believe Amelia Arnold had got Wiseman to open up, but she had, and he didn’t want her interfering in anything else.
‘We’re not finished. There’s more. There’s an issue going on with the Tourist Strategy budget. Mr Wiseman refused to say anything about the plastic plants or the financials for such when I questioned him about that, and about thievery going on at the town hall. I was about to insist he answer,’ Mrs Arnold added, gripping the car-jack handle in her hand more firmly. ‘When he passed out.’
‘So we called that dear young boy who drives the ambulance.’
‘Then we left so we could find the builders.’
‘And give them a piece of your mind?’ Luke asked. ‘You should have come straight to me. Now let’s go.’
‘We are not moving,’ Mrs Arnold informed him with a look of determination Luke reckoned couldn’t be steamrollered off her face.
‘We’re facing them off,’ Mrs Frith said, shaking a fist.
‘Facing them down, isn’t it?’ Mary asked.
‘This is our town as much as yours, Senior Sergeant Weston,’ Mrs Arnold said. ‘We will not be party to this kind of abuse and terror any more than we will put up with plastic plants.’
‘Let me handle it, ladies. I’m the police—remember what we do? We catch bad guys. It’s our job.’
‘That’s what Mr Morrison said.’
‘Mister who?’
‘They met him,’ Rachel said. ‘He told them to go home. He said he’d deal with the builders.’
Luke took all this information in as though he’d just been told Martians had landed and he was charged with apprehending them along with their spaceship. ‘Where did you see him?’
‘Right here. Then he drove off—but he didn’t head for the museum, he went south.’
‘He said Rosita was safe,’ Mary said. ‘And that he’d get her back to town as soon as he could.’
‘You met him?’ he repeated, aghast at the visions in his head.
‘A very polite young man.’
‘Looked a little tired.’
‘He’s got big feet.’
‘He said there was nothing to worry about regarding Angela or Rosita,’ Mary added. ‘He said he’d got it covered, and that Luke Weston would sort it out.’
‘Which is why we haven’t got to the museum yet,’ Mrs Arnold said. ‘I wanted to give this additional information further thought.’
‘Then Rachel found us.’
‘Large penis,’ Mrs Frith said, pointing at Luke’s boots.
‘Freda,’ Mrs Arnold said. ‘Let’s keep it clean, shall we?’
Luke frowned and looked at Rachel, who shook her head as though to tell him not to worry, and then put a hand over her mouth to stifle a smile.
‘He’s got big feet and big hands,’ Mrs Frith said, turning to her comrades. ‘It’s the obvious conclusion.’
‘Shut up, Freda.’
‘Can I be sworn in as a deputy?’ Mrs Frith asked Luke.
‘That only happens in America,’ Luke said, still reflecting on the puzzles. Not those about big hands and large … whatever Mrs Frith was referring to. But all the major puzzles that were beginning to complete the jigsaw. Except one: Peter Morrison.
‘Let’s move, shall we?’ he said, indicating their vehicle. ‘Let’s get you off the streets, like the nice Mr Morrison suggested. You’re to drive to the station. I’ll follow you.’
‘We shall not budge,’ Mrs Arnold said, clasping the handles of her straw handbag firmly in front of her, her capable hand wide enough to hold the car-jack handle too.
‘Oh dear,’ Mary said, spreading her hands in apology as she looked at Luke with a pleading expression. ‘Can’t you pretend you didn’t see us?’
‘Not budging,’ Mrs Frith said.
‘Very stoic, ladies,’ Luke said. ‘Under normal circumstance I’d applaud you. Unfortunately, in this case—I’m arresting you.’
‘You’re what?’
‘You’re under arrest.’
‘All of us?’ Mary asked, looking aghast. ‘Or just Amelia?’
‘All of you. Gather your possessions please.’
He ignored the shocked gasps, walked the short distance to the arrest van and opened the door of the pod.
Rachel herded the Agatha Girls towards him. ‘It’s for the best,’ she was saying. ‘It’s too dangerous to be out on your own.’
‘I am not accompanying you anywhere in handcuffs,’ Mrs Arnold told Luke.
‘I will!’
‘Shut up, Freda.’
‘Pass me that car-jack handle, Mrs Arnold,’ Luke said, holding out his hand. ‘Arrested felons are not allowed weapons. But you can keep your handbag.’
‘Oh dear,’ Mary said.
‘What excitement,’ Mrs Frith said.
Luke held the door of the pod. ‘In you go, ladies. It’s air-conditioned. You’ll be comfortable on the journey to the station. Rachel—hop in the front.’ He gave her his sternest OIC stare. ‘And don’t think I won’t arrest you either.’
She had the gall to smile. ‘I love you,’ she mouthed.
Luke felt her words sink into his soul. ‘You too,’ he said aloud. ‘Now get in the cab.’
‘This is outrageous,’ Mrs Arnold protested.
Luke caught Mrs Frith’s arm and helped her scramble into the pod before she tripped on her enthusiasm to get into the arrest van.
‘Amelia Arnold,’ Mary said in a firm tone as she shrugged off Luke’s assistance and hauled herself up into the white interior of the arrest van. ‘Be grateful my dear Henry is dead and buried, or he’d skin you alive for getting me into this scrape.’
Mrs Frith leaned forwards on her seat and looked expectantly at Luke. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance of a strip search, is there?’
* * *
‘Not a chance, Mrs Frith, not while you’re in custody,’ Rachel heard Luke say for what felt like the thousandth time.
‘But if I just had my hipflask, I’d feel more settled.’
Rachel felt love ballooning inside her despite everything. For the ladies and at Luke’s care and attention to their many ridiculous demands since he’d steered them all into the station ten minutes ago.
She looked down the corridor to Luke’s office and lost the feeling of affection. It had been hard looking at the monitors and seeing Peter in the cell. Luke wouldn’t let her see him close up, although she’d asked. She’d thought it might give her some closure. Luke said it wasn’t a good idea. Not yet.
Peter had been checked over by a medic. He was comatose from alcohol and drugs but had not overdosed. Luke had made the decision to keep him locked up. He said he didn’t have the resources to send an officer to the hospital.
Just thinking about the image of Peter in the cell made Rachel shiver. But it also made her grateful. What she’d felt here in Mt Maria was all-consuming love: a powerful emotion and one she doubted she’d get over, wherever she ended up. Now Peter had been caught—and he wouldn’t disappear this time, he’d go to jail for a long time—she’d be free of him.
‘Donna,’ Luke said. ‘Please lock Mrs Frith’s hipflask in the safe.’
Rachel glanced at Donna Murray’s face. Nobody had mentioned the purple and black bruise on her cheek but Luke must know the cause of it. It had probably been Peter. Rachel made a mental note to apologise to Donna. She’d met her a few times at the town hall when she came in to check on unpaid fines or animal ownership.
‘You can have your hipflask back when I’ve released you, Mrs Frith.’
‘Where are we going to put ’em?’ Jimmy asked.
‘In a cell,’ Luke said. ‘I need the office space, and the kitchen’s only a square metre in diameter. There’s hardly enough room for their handbags. Donna,’ he said, ‘cell four—away from our other visitor.’
‘You got it.’
‘And don’t lock the door on them.’
‘This way, ladies.’
‘You think they’ll stay put?’ Rachel asked when Donna led the ladies out of the front office.
Luke looked as though someone had passed him a dozen knitting patterns and told him to decipher them then translate them into Italian. He ran a hand over his head and sighed out his obvious exasperation. ‘Amelia hopes she’ll get a bit of fresh air blowing through the cell—she thinks there’s a window to open. Mary said handcuffs would chafe her wrists, and Freda said she didn’t care what happened so long as she had her amber liquid. So I told them if they were good and sat still for the next two hours, I’d let them go without being charged.’ He took a breath. ‘Anyway, I’ve locked and secured everything down the back.’ He threw a ferocious frown at Jimmy, who snapped his attention elsewhere. ‘So there’s only one way out,’ Luke said. ‘Through the front door. And Jimmy here is not going to let anyone out. Are you, Jimmy?’
Someone banged on the front door.
Luke moved like a lightning bolt and opened it to a tall, strong, though reserved-looking man who walked in, pulling young Billy Baxter with him by the scruff of his T-shirt.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ Luke asked Billy.
‘Doing stuff.’
‘Stuff that might put you in juvenile detention,’ the big guy said. ‘Found him at the museum site,’ he told Luke. ‘They’ve been paying him to cause a bit of nonsense.’
‘It wasn’t nonsense. I had a real job to do.’
‘They gave him the dark green station wagon and enough cash for old Hugh to get him and Billy drunk.’
‘It was my eighteenth birthday,’ Billy said. ‘I needed some action.’
‘You’re going to get some,’ the man holding him said in a tone that matched his scowl. Rachel tried to place him, but she’d never seen him before.
‘If Luke doesn’t arrest you,’ he said, ‘and if you get out of this with your scalp still attached, you’re starting work for me at six am on Wednesday morning.’
‘Come here,’ Luke told him and led Billy over to the counter. ‘Let’s check you out. Are you hurt? Jimmy—call the medic back in, would you?’
‘I’m fine,’ Billy said, attempting to shuffle away from Luke.
Luke ignored him and did a quick assessment of his condition.
Then the man who’d brought him in appeared at Rachel’s side.
‘Solomon Jones,’ he said, holding out his hand.
He had a deep voice that she’d expected to be thundering because of the look of him, but it wasn’t, it was low, steady and unrushed. ‘You’re the horse whisperer,’ she said, taking his hand as she made the association.
‘It doesn’t actually involve any whispering.’
Maybe not but she got the impression his patience was as endless as the outback. She’d heard about him but never met him—he didn’t come into town much but neither had Rachel until recently.
‘Nice to meet you in person at last,’ Solomon said.
‘In person?’ she asked, staring up at him.
‘I was watching out for you, as was Luke.’
‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘I’m sorry for all this. It’s such a mess—’
‘It is,’ Solomon agreed. ‘But that isn’t your fault.’ He walked back to Billy. ‘Six am Wednesday morning. I’ll come pick you up if you’re not under arrest by then. You’re moving into the stables where I can keep a better eye on you.’
‘You can’t make me! I’m an adult.’
‘That’s debatable,’ Luke said. ‘And if Solomon says he’ll take you under his care, I can make it official. What do you know about the builders?’
Billy didn’t know much. It sounded to Rachel like he’d just wanted the ready cash and a car to burn up and scare the heck out of people. Neither had he ever seen Peter Morrison.
‘The guy’s elusive,’ Luke said with a sigh. ‘If he’s not the bad guy why doesn’t he pop his head around the door of the cop shop and let us all know?’
‘He’s good, Luke,’ Solomon said.
‘Professional?’
‘By my reckoning.’
‘Copper?’
‘Could be.’
Luke turned. ‘Okay. Donna—get Billy into cell three. And lock him in.’
‘Aw, come on!’
‘Aw, shucks, Billy,’ Luke said. ‘Just be grateful I’m not getting my handcuffs out along with my arrest book.’
Donna took him by the arm and led him away, talking to him the whole way down the corridor and advising him that her patience was as thin as Luke’s today so not to give her any trouble because she’d have no qualms slapping her cuffs on him.
‘Arrest book?’ Jimmy asked. ‘This is not some newfangled idea from that probie, Davidson, is it?’
‘It’s my idea,’ Luke said. ‘So I can remember how many people I’ve arrested today. You know—in case I forget.’
‘Now who’s being facetious?’ Jimmy mumbled.
The front doors opened and Constable Davidson led a smiling Rosita into the station.
‘After you,’ he said to her, holding out his hand to indicate the way.
Rachel’s heart surged—with relief for Rosita, who didn’t look anywhere close to the beaten-up state she’d feared. She shot a look at Luke, who had his hands on his waist and a twist to his mouth.
‘Nice of you to join us,’ he said to Davidson. ‘Forget to call this in?’
‘Sorry, sarge. We were in a bit of a hurry to get here.’
‘Explain.’
‘This guy flagged us down.’
‘Peter Morrison,’ Rosita said.
‘So me and Louie pulled up and the guy dragged this one—’ he threw a beaming smile at Rosita, ‘—out of a bunch of trees and told us to get her to the station.’
‘Peter told me I was in danger,’ Rosita said. ‘So these gorgeous detectives brought me here.’
‘They’re not detectives,’ Luke said.
Rosita shrugged. ‘Whatever.’
‘They might not even be police officers after I’ve finished with them.’
Davidson straightened, looked at Luke and dropped his hand from Rosita’s arm. ‘Then this guy—Morrison—scarpered. Louie followed him—I stayed with this one.’ He gave a sideways nod to indicate Rosita, and offered her another smile, as though he simply couldn’t help himself. ‘But Louie lost him.’
‘Where’s Louie now?’
‘Parking the wagon.’
‘I want a detailed description of this Morrison guy and the exact location you saw him. I cannot believe you lost him!’
‘He’s good,’ Davidson said. ‘Just disappeared into thin air.’
‘Peter’s not the bad guy,’ Rosita said. ‘Although he didn’t actually fancy me after all.’ She looked at Davidson, and blushed a delicate shade of complete-flirt pink. ‘Not that I really wanted him to. I was just at a loose end.’ She gave him her pretty, Ro-seeta-she-is-sexy smile, and Davidson turned puce.
‘What makes you think he’s not a bad guy?’ Luke asked.
‘He told me he was trying to protect me. That the builders are the bad guys.’ Rosita turned to Davidson. ‘You’re a good guy, too,’ she said with a grin. ‘Want to show me your weapons?’
‘Oh, please,’ Jimmy said. ‘Can I go home?’
‘I haven’t had a chance to murder you yet,’ Luke informed him. ‘Call that medic again. We’ve got two victims to be checked over. I want someone here in the next ten minutes. And make a note for me in case I forget—cell three has a double occupancy.’
‘What is this?’ Jimmy grumbled as he pulled a notepad forwards. ‘Day care?’
‘Rosita, we need a statement from you,’ Luke said. ‘After that I’m locking you up. For your own safety.’
‘Sure. No problem. Can he stay?’ she asked, indicating Davidson who, Rachel noticed, was now looking all flushed and puffed up with a mixture of pride and embarrassment.
‘No,’ Luke said. ‘Davidson—go make the Agatha Girls a cup of tea. They’re in cell four.’
‘I request that my skills are more properly utilised!’ Davidson said.
‘You haven’t got any yet.’
Suddenly everyone began talking at once. Arguing and bickering and making suggestions about what everybody else ought to be doing. Rachel was taken aback at the noise and confusion.
Luke covered his eyes with his hand. ‘Why me?’ he murmured. ‘All right,’ he said in a raised voice. ‘Show’s over.’ He looked around the room. ‘Where did Solomon go?’
The door flew open.
‘Take your hands off me,’ Jax said.
‘I’m simply putting a hand on your arm to guide you through the damn door,’ a broad-shouldered man said as he caught the door Jax had let swing back on him. ‘To make sure you get inside!’ he added with a clenched jaw.
Relief poured through Rachel that Jax had been found safe, then she looked at the man Jax had just brushed off as though he were an irritating fly. He was big enough to pick Jax up and sling her over his shoulder if he wanted to. Rachel could tell he was a cop. They all had that air …
‘Rosie!’ Jax lost the grimace as her eyes filled with tears. ‘I am so going to kill you,’ she said as she rushed to her younger sister and flung her arms around her.
‘There’s a queue for the cells,’ Jimmy said.
‘Have any trouble bringing her in?’ Luke asked the man who’d pushed Jax inside.
‘No.’
‘So what took you so long?’
The man ignored him. ‘Hello, Rachel,’ he said. He was smiling now although he looked a little defensive, or perhaps wary. ‘I’m Detective Senior Sergeant Jack Maxwell—’
‘Otherwise known as Jack-the-lad,’ Jax said over Rosita’s shoulder.
‘Ignore that woman,’ Jack Maxwell said. ‘How she gets any customers in her café with her barbed tone I have no idea.’ He aimed the last few words at Jax, with a grim frown of exasperation, then turned back to Rachel. ‘But I do need to apologise to you.’
‘For what?’ Rachel asked.
‘On behalf of the operation—not that they know I’m doing this. But we put you in danger.’
‘I’ll fill you in on the whole story later, Rachel,’ Luke said. ‘Jack—I need to talk to you about Morrison.’
Jack nodded. He glanced around the station. ‘Full house?’ he asked.
‘It’s bloody day care,’ Jimmy said.
The door opened and Will walked in. ‘Roper’s just made a citizen’s arrest. Oldest Baxter boy was hooning around his field scattering his goats.’ Will paused, open-mouthed, and took in the scene before him. ‘Wants me to go out and bring him in…’ His voice trailed off. ‘What’s going on?’
‘How should I know?’ Luke said. ‘I’m just the officer in charge.’
Rachel stifled another grin as her love for him swelled. He was slightly taller than Jack, as broad as Solomon and, as far as she was concerned, more handsome than all of them put together. And it looked like his super-sized patience had reached the end of its tether.
‘So we’re all safe?’ Will said, clocking Jax and Rosita. ‘Where’s Billy?’
‘Cell three,’ Luke said. ‘And as soon as we find Morrison and bring in the builders—I’m going home. I might never come back.’
‘Scone, anyone?’ Mary called out from down the corridor. ‘We found the jam—but this kitchen is in shocking disarray. Amelia’s making some notes on healthier eating and pantry organisation.’
Luke hung his head. ‘This is so not going by the book.’