One month later
Juliet sucked in a sharp breath as she watched the black BMW approaching in the rear-view mirror. It was moving at an impressive speed. Heart pounding, she flicked on her left-hand indicator and directed her car into an available gap in the other lane.
Just like before ...
The dignified roar of the BMW’s engine bid her goodbye as it sped past.
Juliet blew out a long breath. She needed to get a grip.
Unfortunately, that was something she’d been unable to do for the past month. Ever since the night of Alex Benedetti’s party.
Juliet resisted the urge to close her eyes because she needed to keep them on the road. She refused to relive the memories of that night again. Lord knows, she’d done that enough these past few weeks. She could just make out the green and white sign looming up ahead. That must be her exit. Only about forty kilometres to go.
She flicked on her indicator again and took the exit from the freeway.
In about half an hour she would arrive at her new job as an events manager for a prestigious boutique winery in Australia’s Hunter Valley wine region. Never mind that less than a month ago she had no intention of looking for a new job or leaving her business. Or that less than a month ago she’d still believed the Temple name could protect her from anything.
She’d been wrong.
Juliet glanced at the contents on her back seat. She’d piled her bags haphazardly, and there was more of the same in the boot. When she’d left at four this morning, she’d been in a hurry. As if she didn’t quite trust her decision to go, she’d thrown a scant selection of her belongings into the hire car. She hadn’t looked back. She could envisage her harbourside apartment the way she’d left it. Lived-in and with very little sign that the apartment’s owner had fled the city. But then that had been the idea. If it looked like she still lived there, it would be a while before people figured out she’d gone.
Juliet sighed and ran a hand through her mess of light brown hair. She hadn’t even showered before leaving. It was hardly the first impression she was aiming for. Fortunately, the owner of the winery was aware of the situation and she hoped he’d be forgiving of her less-than-perfect appearance.
Juliet made the rest of the journey in silence. Earlier, she’d attempted to lift her mood by filling the cabin with loud music, but she’d switched it off almost straight away. Whenever she heard a steady beat, it reminded her of that night and the music playing in the background when Alex had led her down the hallway …
‘Enough,’ she said out loud. By the time she arrived she would be one hundred and fifty kilometres from Sydney. No one knew where she was going, not Andrew, not even Edie. She couldn’t care less about offending Andrew, but the distance from Edie was going to hurt.
It’s not forever.
That’s what the Police Commissioner had said. Just until they could make further progress on the investigation and Juliet could walk around the city without a horde of photographers chasing her.
Or random cars trying to run her down.
‘Oh God,’ she whispered, the sting of tears in the corner of her eyes.
What happened the night of the party had felt like a bad dream until the hit-and-run car accident. Jet had been driving to work like any other morning, but on this particular day she was up earlier than usual, planning to arrive well before anyone else to prep for a client meeting. She’d been glad of the extra work to keep her mind off recent events. Ever since the night of the party, she hadn’t felt like herself and work was something that was certain and familiar.
The sun had been in her eyes. The penetrating rays were so much brighter than any sunrise she could remember from her childhood growing up in the UK.
She’d been squinting as she approached the intersection, making sure she hadn’t missed seeing any pedestrians and double-checking the light was green before proceeding further.
She’d felt safe entering the intersection. Assured of her driving and where she was going.
In a split second, that illusion was shattered when in a flash of silver, a vehicle hurtled towards the driver’s side of her car.
Juliet didn’t have time to hit the brake. She didn’t have time to do anything except think, Oh no.
There was an anguished screech of metal on metal, which Jet discovered was a sickening, twisting sound—the sort of noise you hear in nightmares and not in real life.
The silver car made impact with the front side of her car and Jet’s head jolted painfully like a jack-in-the-box popping up. The airbag went off and surrounded her in a cloud of white so she couldn’t see. Juliet was powerless to do anything as her car was pushed across the intersection.
And then, once she’d finally stopped and blinked several times only to realise the passenger side of her car was dangerously close to a power pole, the roar of an engine had reverberated through her. Still unable to see properly, Juliet sensed, rather than saw, the car that had hit her drive off.
In that instant, teetering between gut-wrenching fear and relief that she was still alive, Juliet accepted that what had happened the night of the party hadn’t been a bad dream at all. Maybe this accident was nothing more than a coincidence, but the alternative ... It was far more sinister than Juliet wanted to contemplate.
It was this very possibility the police were considering right now on her behalf.
Juliet drew in a shaky breath. The car accident had only happened yesterday and she was still shaken from its after-effects. The conversation with the Police Commissioner remained fresh in her mind.
It will be safer if you’re out of sight until we can progress further with the investigation and determine the extent of the danger you’re in, the Police Commissioner had told her. But he’d left it up to her. It was her choice, he’d said, but his personal recommendation was that she disappear from public life for a period of time.
Nothing about this felt like her choice, though. Not packing her bags hurriedly in the pre-dawn light. Not leaving her life and business behind no matter how temporary. It felt like she was suddenly adrift in an unchartered ocean and she didn’t even have an oar to direct her journey.
When she’d arrived in Sydney five years earlier, a young British backpacker enchanted by the expanse of azure harbour and endless blue sky, she’d never anticipated this was where her life would end up.
For the first time since then, Juliet longed for England. Not because it was home anymore, but because it was the other side of the world away from the disaster that was her life.
The dawn outside her window was giving way to a brilliant new day. Juliet searched in the glovebox for her sunglasses, careful not to take her eyes from the road. Since leaving the freeway, the road had narrowed from a dual lane carriageway into a single lane either way. Rows of towering gum trees gave way to farmland. The open space should have felt like a welcome release after the city, but instead it made Juliet feel vulnerable.
Not much longer. She spent the next ten minutes navigating her way through the outskirts of the township of Cessnock. She passed row after row of weatherboard cottages, reminiscent of the town’s working class beginnings. An original two-storey pub with a wrap around verandah was nestled next to the train line. In her backpacking days she would have gone in and attempted to experience the town like a local.
On the other side of town the countryside opened up again. Juliet started to see rows of vines and elaborate signage inviting visitors to cellar door tastings. Wine country.
In her time planning events, she’d grown to appreciate the importance of wine in hosting a successful event. Until now, she’d never really put much thought to the producers of those wines.
The GPS informed Juliet to turn left one hundred metres up ahead. She slowed the car and took the turn into a road that looked so tight it would barely hold two cars coming in opposite directions. At this time of the morning she hoped to avoid that situation.
The road was flanked by a grass embankment on her right and a thick wall of gum trees to her left. Slowly, she climbed a gentle hill and, as she rounded a bend, the gum trees thinned out. Juliet gasped.
An estate lay before her. Behind a rustic wooden fence, row after row of vines looked as though they’d been neatly arranged to perfectly compliment the backdrop of rolling hills in the distance.
Juliet slowed in front of a wide driveway. A simple white sign with gold lettering read, ‘Rhodes Family Wines’. Above the words, an abstract logo in dark green hinted artistically at the rolling hills in the distance.
Juliet directed the car along the white gravel driveway bordered by more gum trees. The road curved to the right and as the estate came into view, Juliet resisted the urge to step on the brakes.
It was beautiful. A large building that reminded her of the barn-style conversions in the UK greeted her. It was simple, but she wouldn’t dare call it plain. The wood used to construct the barn was characterful and full of warm browns and red hues. Hedges had been encouraged to grow around it and climbers clung to the walls.
Beyond the barn, and behind more gardens, Juliet could make out two houses. One appeared to be a sprawling pale blue, single-level weatherboard with a verandah wrapping around. The other was a small off-white, two-level cottage, set at the edge of the main property. Hanging baskets overflowing with blooms and more hedges had been thoughtfully allowed to grow. Juliet felt an immediate sense of welcome, which was no easy feat given her state of mind.
Juliet pulled up in front of the barn and cut the engine. It was barely seven in the morning and she suddenly felt the urge to start the car again and turn around. Instead, she sat in the car wondering what her next move should be. It was too early for the cellar door to be open. She’d been told not to use her mobile phone, so she’d left it in her apartment in Sydney.
Resigned, Juliet blew out a long breath and then got out of the car. The spring morning was crisp, but the warmth of the sun on her back held the promise of a mild day.
‘A bit early for a wine tasting, isn’t it?’
Juliet spun around at the sound of a deep male voice. A man in his late fifties stood near the entrance to the barn observing her. His greying hair was cropped short and the olive tone of his skin hinted at plenty of time in the sun. He was tall and Juliet would have called him sturdy if there hadn’t been such a strong sense of refinement about him.
He broke into warm smile. ‘We’ve been expecting you.’
Juliet frowned, feeling ill at ease despite his friendly greeting.
‘Gordon called ahead.’
Relief flooded her body. Of course, Commissioner Roberts. She’d sent him the text message they’d agreed on before she left.
‘I’m sorry.’ Juliet forced herself to smile. ‘I was in such a rush to leave, I didn’t know how I should get in contact ...’
‘Gordon took care of it.’
He took a step closer and Juliet had the distinct impression she was being assessed. She was used to being in the public eye, but this was different. Juliet had the odd sense this man could see more than she cared to admit.
He extended a hand. ‘Martin Rhodes. Owner of Rhodes Family Wines and your new employer, if you still agree to it after I show you around.’
Juliet reached out and took his hand. ‘From what I’ve seen so far, I’m extremely impressed.’
‘It’s a pretty picture, isn’t it?’ Martin released her hand and stood back to take in the view of the estate with the morning sun casting an orange glow over the hills in the distance.
Juliet cleared her throat. ‘Are you sure you’re happy to have me here?’ she asked quietly.
Martin turned back to her and she noticed his eyes were a warm brown. ‘One of the country’s best event organisers? You’ve got to be kidding.’
Juliet must have paled because Martin’s expression turned sober.
‘Your identity is top secret, of course. That’s part of the deal.’
Juliet nodded, attempting to swallow the sudden lump in her throat. Regrets and fear had no place in this idyllic setting, but even here she could feel their sting.
‘Let’s start again, shall we?’ Martin suggested. He extended his hand a second time. ‘I’m Martin Rhodes, owner of Rhodes Family Wines. But you can call me Marty.’
Juliet stared at his outstretched arm for a long moment. Despite the doubts tugging at her, she was certain of one thing: she liked this man.
She reached out and shook his hand firmly. Looking Marty in the eye, she gave him a relieved smile. ‘Marty, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Jet Appleton, your new events manager.’