CHAPTER SIX

Dear Diary,

The darkness is encroaching, keeping me from sleep. Ha! Sleep! It’s been so long since I felt rested, I can’t remember how it feels. I stare at the walls in the darkness. They are closing in on me; squeezing, choking; suffocating the life out of me. Why hasn’t anyone noticed? Why doesn’t anyone see? I can’t go on like this…

* * *

Lachlan replaced the handset in the cradle and sighed. It was done. For better or worse, he was going to receive professional help. Just like Ava had suggested. Ava. His gut clenched. Could he bare his soul for someone he found so attractive, no matter how professional she was? Right now, it wasn’t just her he was unsure of…

She’d looked just as sexy at Martin’s place as she had a month ago and more recently in his dreams. Her rosy lips, her perky breasts…

“Who were you talking to?” Martin asked, startling him.

Lachlan shrugged, not willing to disclose the reason for his call. “No one. It’s nothing.”

Martin perched on the corner of Lachlan’s desk, his face creased with concern. “You’re sure? ’Cause you looked kind of angry and scared. It wasn’t Kristy, was it? She’s not threatening you, is she?”

Lachlan shook his head. “No, Martin. Nothing like that. We’re trying to keep things civil, for the sake of the kids.”

Martin nodded in understanding. “How’d it go with the boss? Did he—?”

“Lachlan! Martin!” Becker shouted, tearing out of his office. “There’s been a car accident out near the Boolaroo Bridge. A young kid was behind the wheel. He had at least two passengers. You need to get out there.”

Lachlan’s gut somersaulted at the news and the urgency on his boss’ face. It told him a helluva lot more than he needed to know.

“Any fatalities?” he asked, grimacing against the pain in his shoulder as he tugged on his jacket.

Becker’s expression narrowed on his. “Are you all right to attend this one?”

Lachlan nodded brusquely. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“The dispatcher was only given sketchy details from someone passing by,” Becker replied, “but I believe at least one of the passengers is in pretty bad shape. The paramedics are already on their way.”

Lachlan’s training kicked into gear. Grabbing his keys, he tossed them to Martin who was also getting himself prepared. “You ready?”

Martin shot him a somber look. “Yep.”

“Let’s go, then.”

Together, they hurried down the short flight of stairs that led out back to the car park. Martin slid behind the wheel of the patrol car. With a squeal of tires, they hit the road.

* * *

It seemed to take forever to drive the six miles to the Boolaroo Bridge, but in reality, it was less than five minutes. With lights and siren blazing, Martin brought the 4WD patrol vehicle to a stop. The red and white of the emergency strobe lights came from two ambulances that were pulled off to one side of the road. The bright mid-morning light glinted off the wreckage of an early model Toyota sedan.

Slamming the car door behind him, Lachlan followed Martin to the accident site. Two gurneys stood not far away. The fact that they were unoccupied caused anxiety to settle heavily in Lachlan’s gut. He searched for the paramedics and found them. Their movements were unhurried. The dread increased in his veins. There was only one reason why paramedics weren’t frantic with urgency at the scene of an accident. That didn’t bode well for the occupants of the vehicle.

“Oh, Jesus! Oh, fuck! No! Nooo!”

Lachlan’s heart thumped at the cries of anguish that were torn from his partner’s mouth. Martin had gone ahead of him and now stood beside what was left of the driver’s side of the car. The mangled body of a teenage boy was barely recognizable behind the wheel.

The front of the Toyota had come into contact with a huge gum tree and had folded around the thick trunk. From the amount of damage to the vehicle, it was obvious the crash had happened at top speed.

“Jesus! It’s Travis! Help him, Lachie! It’s Travis! My brother!”

Martin’s howls were filled with pain and sent shards of ice through Lachlan’s heart. He gasped in horror. “Fuck, oh, fuck,” he whispered, incapable of anything else.

“We need help over here!” Martin shouted at the paramedics, his agony reflected in his eyes. “For fuck’s sake! We need help!”

Lachlan forced himself forward until he came up beside his friend. He didn’t need to take a closer look to know that no amount of assistance would save Martin’s brother. The console and steering wheel were caught so tightly against the boy’s chest, he was almost severed in two.

Blood had poured from a large gash across his forehead and was now congealing in his lap. Broken shards of glass were trapped in his hair and glinted in the sunlight. Smaller cuts and abrasions marked the soft skin of his face and neck. The boy’s pale blue eyes were open, staring lifelessly up to the sky.

Lachlan glanced through the rear window and caught sight of two more teenage boys. Their necks were twisted at odd angles. Their eyes were sightless. It was obvious both of them were also dead.

His mind went numb. It was the only way he could deal with it. Although he wasn’t related to any of the deceased, he still knew them. Travis Griffin and two of his mates: Barney Howarth and Jayden Leech. Lachlan wondered where Thomas Downton was. The four of them could usually be found hanging out together.

With his good hand, Lachlan tugged on Martin’s arm and tried to get him to move away. “Come on, mate. We can’t help them anymore. We’ll need to wait for the Rural Fire Service. They’ll have to cut those boys out of the car. There’s no other way to get them free.”

Martin’s eyes blazed with fury and he pulled away from Lachlan’s hold. Ducking his head through the shattered glass of the driver’s side window, he grasped his brother’s face in his hands. Tears streamed down his cheeks. “I’m not going anywhere! I’m not leaving my brother alone!”

Lachlan swallowed against the tightness in his chest. Martin’s pain was palpable, but standing inches away from the battered body of his deceased brother wouldn’t help anyone. Lachlan tried again.

“Martin, step away. You need to move away. This is a crime scene. You need to get out of the way.”

“Fuck off and leave me alone!” Martin shouted, sobbing hard.

“Guys, we have another body over here!”

The shout came from one of the paramedics a few yards away. Lachlan glanced at Martin and then made his way over to where the paramedic stood. What was left of Thomas Downton lay bloody and broken on the ground. He’d been thrown out of the front passenger seat on impact. Though his face was unmarked, a stake protruded from his chest. The remnants of an old wooden fence post had brought about his untimely death.

Bile rose in Lachlan’s stomach and he turned away and heaved. Warm jets of vomit poured out of his mouth and nose. The acrid taste burned his throat and brought hot tears to his eyes and all he could think about was how his partner would cope with what lay ahead.

* * *

Ava glanced at her watch and frowned. Lachlan was late. She’d stayed back especially to meet with him. Her last patient had left more than an hour ago, along with her receptionist, Janelle, and Rob, the accountant. And there was still no sign of the chiropractor.

She hadn’t thought to ask Lachlan for his number, so she had no way of contacting him to find out if he was on his way, but there was no reason he couldn’t have called her and told her he’d changed his mind. His rudeness irritated her. Making the decision to go home, she pushed away from her desk and went to the small cupboard on the other side of the room where she’d stowed her jacket and handbag.

The sound of the front door banging open and a soft curse halted her progress. As far as she knew, the rest of the staff had gone home. Changing direction, she opened the door to her office and walked down the short corridor that led into the reception area.

Lachlan was in the process of lowering himself awkwardly into one of the pine chairs that lined the waiting room. He spied her in the open doorway and slowly returned to an upright position.

“Ava, I’m sorry. I was called out of town to an accident. I… I’m sorry I didn’t phone. I should have.”

A reprimand died on her lips. There was something so lost and broken about him, like he’d come to the end of the line. His shoulders slumped and his eyes were dull with pain.

“What happened?” she murmured.

“Can we go in?” he asked, indicating the rooms that came off the corridor behind her.

“Of course.” She waited for him to cross the reception area and then turned and headed back the way she’d come. His boots sounded loud on the polished wooden floor. She paused outside the door to her office and waved him in.

“After you,” she said.

He entered and stopped just inside the door, as if unsure of what to do. She indicated the chair opposite her desk. He moved toward it and sat down. “This is nice,” he murmured, looking around.

The large, airy room that comprised Phoebe Jamison’s office was part of what had once been a majestic old house. French doors painted in glossy white opened up onto an enclosed porch where a chair and a comfortable couch were located. A fireplace, containing what looked like original decorative features, was built into one wall. It had been restored with a loving hand, as had the rest of the house.

“You were expecting something more…clinical?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. Or something bleak and dreary.”

“I wish I could take credit for the styling,” she replied, “but I’m afraid my friend Phoebe is singularly responsible for this wonderful space. My office in the city is far less appealing.”

“But it probably suits you,” he said.

She blinked in surprise. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you’re a city girl, aren’t you? You’re dabbling in the country air to help out a friend, but I think we both know you’re not cut out for the bush.”

His observation stung. He hardly knew her. Okay, so he’d touched the most intimate parts of her, but he didn’t know her. She could get used to living in the country, couldn’t she?

“We never know what we’re capable of until we’re put to the test,” she replied, challenging him with her eyes.

He sighed heavily as if tired of the game. “Yeah, you have that right.”

Once again, the quiet desperation in his tone and his tormented expression stopped her. She wondered if the accident he’d attended was responsible for his mood. Seating herself across from him she drew a fresh legal pad toward her and picked up her pen.

“I’m not sure what I’m doing here,” he muttered. “I’m not in the mood to talk about myself.”

“Okay,” she replied. “Then we’ll talk about something else. How’s your collarbone?”

He grimaced. “It’s all right.”

“Tell me about your family,” she asked, hoping to get him to open up. “I met them all briefly at the wedding, but I’d really like to know more. How’s your mom coping without your dad?”

Lachlan’s lips compressed, but he nodded slowly. “She’s getting there. They were married for nearly forty years. That’s a lot of time together. It’s going to take her awhile to get used to being on her own.”

“What about the rest of your family? How are they coping? I lost my dad when I was barely three years old, so I have only the vaguest of memories of him, but I know when my mom passes on, I’ll be devastated. For years, before the kidney transplant, we faced that possibility every day. I didn’t realize how tense I’d been until the stress of it was taken away.”

He nodded somberly. “She was one of the lucky ones. Many people on transplant lists die before a compatible donor’s found.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “We all feel very lucky. We won the lottery the night Mom’s donor came along.”

“I’m sorry about your brother. It must be tough, knowing he’s—”

“In jail? Yes.” She appraised him with frank curiosity. “Your understanding surprises me. Given your occupation, I’d have thought you’d feel the way Rohan did about the need for Alistair to be punished for his deeds.”

He stared back at her. “You don’t believe your brother did the wrong thing?”

“Of course he did the wrong thing, but he had the best of intentions.”

“Oh, that’s right. He stole those organs and tissues out of the goodness of his heart.”

Lachlan’s sarcasm angered her. Okay, her brother was far from saintly and she conceded that he’d benefited mightily from his arrangement to sell human tissue to an overseas corporation. In fact, the police estimated he’d received close to a million dollars for his services before they discovered his illegal activities.

But despite all that, she couldn’t help but point out to most people who would listen that many more donor organs had been made available to desperately ill people that would never have been available otherwise and the number of lives saved as a consequence couldn’t be measured.

She glanced at the man who sat across from her, tension evident in the harsh lines that were etched into his face. With an effort, she controlled the instinctive urge to return fire. This wasn’t about her. It was obvious his mood was heavy and he was there, in her office, seeking help.

She cleared her throat and forced herself to relax. “I haven’t heard anyone mention an accident. Was it nearby?”

He grimaced. “About six miles away, at the Boolaroo Bridge. It’s out on the highway heading toward Goondiwindi.”

“A car accident?”

“Yes.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and then opened them on a heavy sigh. “Yes.”

Her heart gave a little start. No wonder he looked down. And then another thought occurred to her. Even in the short time she’d been there, she’d worked out that Moree was a small, close-knit community. It wasn’t farfetched to imagine the victim might have been someone he’d known. She voiced the question quietly.

His eyes turned to flint. “Yes. I knew all four of them.”

As his words sank in, she was filled with surprise. “Four? There were four people injured?”

“Not injured, Doc. Killed.”

Shock and horror flooded through her. “Four fatalities? I take it there were at least two vehicles involved.”

“No.”

Another wave of shock shuddered through her. “No?”

“No. A single motor vehicle driven by a seventeen-year-old boy. Three of his teenaged mates were passengers. It’s my guess the driver was traveling at an excessive speed. He lost control of the car and simply ran out of talent. He collided head-on with a massive gum tree. None of them were wearing seatbelts. I’m led to believe all four died instantly.”

His words hammered away in Ava’s brain, piling shock upon shock on her stunned senses. She wondered how he could sit there and recite the awful facts so calmly, so unemotionally.

And then she understood.

He was a police officer. People relied on him to remain strong and steadfast during times of unspeakable horror. He wasn’t allowed the liberty of losing control, of displaying more human emotion. That would be seen as a sign of weakness and weakness was not to be tolerated by the police service or by the community.

Her heart cried out against the injustice of it, even as she accepted it was true. Society demanded more from the men and women who kept them safe night and day. It wasn’t right or fair, but it was the way it was.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

His lip curled up derisively. “For what, Doc?”

She struggled to vocalize her feelings, instinctively knowing he wouldn’t accept her sympathy. “I’m sorry that you had to see that. It must have been awful.”

“Not as awful as it was for Martin. The driver was his brother.”

Ava gasped and her hand flew to cover her mouth. She stared at Lachlan, horrified, barely able to comprehend. “The-the driver…was…Martin’s brother?”

Lachlan held her gaze, his expression grim. “That’s what I said.”

Ava looked away and fidgeted with the files on her desk. She couldn’t stop thinking about what Lachlan had said. While he remained cool and collected, she was anything, but. While she didn’t know much about Martin’s family, she’d been friends with Pam since high school. She couldn’t imagine what they must be feeling. And then something else Lachlan said hit her hard, like a sudden blow to the head. She looked up at him. Her voice trembled.

“Did Martin attend the scene of the accident? Was he with you when you found them?”

“Yes, Doc. He was there. He realized before I did, it was Travis. He’s…understandably upset.”

“Upset?” she shouted. “Upset?” A flash of anger blazed through her. “He must be devastated, unable to have a coherent thought! To come across a fatal accident is bad enough, but to discover one of the victims is your brother…” Her voice caught on a horrified sob and she couldn’t complete the thought. Pushing away from her desk, she turned her back on the man who continued to stare at her with a stoic expression on his face.

“It’s not right!” she shouted. “It’s not normal to bury your anger and pain so deep and it sure as hell isn’t healthy!”

“You think this is bad?”

Lachlan’s voice, rough and low with pent up emotion, halted her distraught pacing. Slowly, she looked up at him, fearful of what he might say. She wasn’t an automaton. She couldn’t turn her heart to ice.

And neither could he. The thought struck her deep inside and suddenly, she knew it was true. He wasn’t a machine. He felt horror and pain and anguish like anyone else, but over the years he’d learned how to suppress it because he didn’t have a choice.

She made her way back to her desk and lowered herself back in her seat. He stared at her, his eyes dark and stormy with emotion. His hands clenched into fists.

“Talk to me,” she whispered, her voice ragged.

“Last week, we raided an illegal meth lab,” he stated quietly. “There was an explosion. We got out, along with the men who’d been responsible for it. During the explosion, I thought I heard screaming. I tried to get back into the building, but the fire had already taken hold. We didn’t realize until the next morning the criminals had two troubled teens working for them. The charred bodies of those children were barely recognizable as people. We found them in the cookhouse.”

Ava pressed a hand tightly to her mouth, holding back her horror. Lachlan continued in the same low voice, devoid of emotion.

“The month before that, we attended a domestic abuse call out. A woman had dialed the police, screaming for help. Her ice-addict boyfriend was beating the crap out of her. By the time we got there, she was unconscious. Then there was the—”

Ava held up a hand to halt him, hiding her desperation. “Please, I… I’ve heard enough.” She drew in a shaky breath, hating her cowardice, but helpless to do anything about it. While she’d been trained to control her emotions, she couldn’t divorce herself from the pain his stories evoked. She wasn’t sure if she could listen to more of the horrors he endured on a regular basis in the course of his job.

His hard gaze was filled with cynicism. “Am I offending your tender sensibilities, Doc?”