For the rest of the weekend Nick’s strange remark rolled around in her mind.
‘A friend like you.’ What did that mean? He had no idea who she was. His impression was based on her as a witness and his erroneous summation of her as a single, middle-class mother. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
On Sunday, with Petey’s enthusiastic if inept assistance and barrage of bizarre questions, she planted the seedlings and seeds John recommended, and stood back to survey the completed project with pride. She unrolled the green plastic-coated chicken wire and placed it around the bed to thwart the possums John said would feast on her handiwork given half a chance. They were definitely about, she heard them thumping up and down on the roof at night, having races by the sound of it.
‘That’ll stop those possums,’ she said to Petey as she clipped the ends together to complete the fence.
‘That’ll top those possums,’ he said and clapped his hands.
‘Good work, sweetie.’
‘Nick can see our garden,’ he said.
‘No, he can’t.’
‘Nick digged our garden.’
‘Yes but he won’t visit us again.’
‘Why won’t he visit?’
‘He’s too busy.’
Petey considered this for a moment but seemed satisfied because he started trying to climb into the wheelbarrow. ‘Want a ride, Mummy.’
‘Okay. Hold on tight.’ She settled him between the empty pots and diggers and ran with the barrow across the grass to the shed with Petey laughing and clinging to the sides.
Indoors Lara headed for the bathroom to start Petey’s bath. She might hop in with him. Her aching muscles would enjoy a soak but it wouldn’t be very relaxing with him splashing about. After he was asleep she’d treat herself. A yawn caught her unawares. And after the bath, bed with a book. They’d have pasta with the leftover sauce from yesterday for dinner. She smiled. How mundane and dull her evening would have sounded to her wild teenage self but now, a few short, shocking, eye-opening years later, it sounded like bliss.
How was Brooke? No family, Nick said. Surely she had friends she could turn to? Everyone had friends. She trailed her hand in the rising water and adjusted the cold.
Everyone except Lara. She’d cut herself off from that earlier life surgically and completely but she couldn’t think of one person she missed, or even thought of now. Any contact with friends from her childhood had been neatly severed by her marriage and she had no desire to rekindle them. Was Brooke in a similar situation? Was she a runaway from a family like Lara’s?
Petey appeared in the doorway wearing only his T-shirt. ‘I’m ready, Mummy.’
‘Well done.’ Lara flicked off the taps and pulled his T-shirt off. She swung him into the water. Nick implied Brooke was alone in the city, the only person to miss her being her work colleague and presumably her boss. How terrifying to have no memory. How would they find her family or where she came from?
She soaped Petey while her mind turned the thought of Brooke over and over like the earth they’d dug in the garden. The girl knew she was there, she’d returned the pressure on her fingers, just briefly but enough for Lara to feel the flicker of a life fighting for existence. Perhaps she could visit her in the hospital, just the once. Take her some flowers. Accept her thanks. Ellie would mind Petey for an hour.
‘Time to get out. Pull the plug please, sweetie.’
‘Noooooo.’ He slapped the surface of the water, giggling madly.
‘Yes.’ She grabbed the wet slippery wriggling little body and lifted him dripping, onto the bath mat. How she loved this little boy. He was her world. ‘I love you.’ She nuzzled his warm damp neck. He giggled and pressed a big smoochy kiss on her cheek.
‘I love you,’ he echoed.
‘Pyjamas on then spaghetti for dinner.’
‘Basgetti,’ he said. ‘Yum, yum, yum, yum.’
***
Petey must have been as tired as Lara by their gardening because he went to bed with barely a murmur of protest and was asleep by seven thirty. She switched on the television and switched it off almost immediately. Crime shows. Not her choice of viewing, not when she’d lived it herself. The alternative was football or a horrible reality show where mothers chose the girls they thought their sons should marry. Who would want a man whose mother told him what to do?
She’d have to be very careful with her own son. How awful to become one of those manipulative, possessive women who on principle detested any girlfriend her son brought home. Would a man in her life dilute the tendency to be a mother hen? Did Petey need a father figure? No — plenty of women brought up their children alone and very successfully. It would be a cold day in hell before she committed herself to a man again.
She should visit Brooke. Which hospital was she in? The closest presumably, which would be the RPA in Camperdown. She could cycle over. But would they let her in, a random stranger? Probably not. She’d have to phone the cop and tell him she’d changed her mind. He’d be pleased.
She went to the desk where she’d left the card. Nick Lawson. Mediterranean background she’d guess, despite the name. That would figure by his colouring and the resemblance to Al Pacino. Italian or Greek. Spanish? Call any time he said. She picked up the phone and dialled. He answered on the second ring.
‘Lawson.’ Brusque. At work still, late on a Sunday evening. Probably annoyed by the interruption. She’d be brief.
‘It’s Lara Moore. I’ve changed my mind. I’ll visit Brooke.’
‘Hello, Lara.’ Much softer tone now despite the surprise he couldn’t hide. But she had the impression she was a welcome surprise, a distraction from whatever he was doing. ‘I’m glad. She’ll be pleased. When do you want to go?’
‘Any time. Are there visiting hours?’
‘No. Just say when you’d like to go.’
‘Tomorrow morning at ten thirty.’ She stated the time at random but it would mean she’d miss the heavy morning commuter traffic and also have time to ask Ellie to take Petey.
‘Fine,’ said Nick. ‘I’ll meet you there. RPA. Women’s surgical.’
Meet him? She frowned, as much at the little surge of anticipation as annoyance at his assumption she wanted him there. ‘You don’t need to come, do you?’
‘Yes.’ He said it so definitively Lara couldn’t argue. Maybe he did need to be there. If she complained he might refuse her entry.
‘All right. Ten thirty tomorrow.’ She took the phone from her ear to disconnect but he said, ‘Did you get the vegetables in?’
For an instant she considered cutting the line, pretending she’d missed the question but something made her raise the phone. He’d remembered her plans for today. ‘Yes. Strawberries, lettuce, tomatoes, spring onions, basil, parsley, cucumbers, chilli and capsicum.’
‘Sounds good.’
‘Plus John said I should fence it to stop the possums.’
‘Good idea, although they don’t like chilli and basil.’
‘Really?’
‘They’ve never eaten mine.’
‘Do you have a garden?’
‘A small one but big enough for me. Amazing what you can grow in a small area.’
He was single. She was chatting to him like a friend. He wasn’t.
‘Goodnight.’ She hung up before he could reply. Her hand was shaking. She stared at it, conscious of her heart pushing blood around her body, pounding in her ears. Ridiculous! Her fingers curled into a fist.
She picked up the phone again and dialled Ellie for babysitting duty in the morning.
***
Rain dropped dismally from a sullen sky. Lara squinted up at it from her seat on the bus. Miserable weather. The rain-spattered windows were slowly steaming up making it difficult to see the stops, but the high walls of the hospital hove into view and she made for the door, umbrella ready to unfurl, coat buttoned tightly.
Hospitals all smelled the same. Lara wrinkled her nose as the familiar smell landed over her like a shroud. She hadn’t spent a lot of time in hospitals, not for her own health, apart from after the most vicious of Tony’s bashings. And the maternity stay, but that was short. They kicked her and Petey out after a day. She went home, with Tony driving proudly and casting awed glances in the rear-view mirror at his tiny newborn son buckled snugly into the baby capsule. Lara came closest to loving him in that brief period between hospital and home. She’d never seen him humbled before, not even at their wedding.
A few short weeks later she was back, called to the Emergency Ward at midnight where her husband lay dying. He never knew she was there and she went home in the early hours of the morning with the realisation slowly dawning that she was free, the nightmare was over. He had no family, his evil mates would be glad to see the back of her. They thought she was less than nothing in the first place and now that Tony was gone she dropped off the map completely. His murderer had been caught at the scene along with a bunch of other people, the case would be over before it began. She could disappear.
Now, dripping water from the bottoms of her wet jeans and clutching a bunch of bright daffodils from the hospital florist, she stared at the signs indicating the different wards then headed for the elevators and joined a man on crutches, a white-coated woman with a distracted air and a clipboard, and two elderly ladies with sour, resigned faces. He’d meet her at the nurse’s desk, he said. She was a few minutes late. With any luck he’d have had to go and she could visit Brooke alone.
Her wet shoes squeaked on the polished floor. Lara turned the corner, waited for a young pale-faced woman to shuffle slowly by attached to a drip. A man supported her elbow. A red-haired nurse studied a computer screen at the nurse’s station.
He stood against the wall, hands in pockets, staring at nothing. Dark brown slacks and a black jacket over a white shirt, all slightly rumpled. That flop of hair straggled over his brow. He casually lifted a hand and shoved it back then turned and saw her. His lips curved slowly into a smile that lit his eyes as she approached. Something inside her tightened, breath caught and released, and her step faltered.
He came to meet her. ‘Hi. You look good. Did you get very wet?’ His hand was outstretched as though he wanted to shake hands or embrace her. She ignored it but the spontaneous little compliment warmed her despite the determination to keep a distance.
‘Hello. Where’s Brooke?’
‘In here. Far corner.’ He indicated the door next to him and stepped aside for her to enter first. She adjusted the strap of her shoulder bag and swallowed. Was this a good idea? Too late, Nick Lawson was right behind her, expecting her to continue.
The room had four beds separated by cream curtains. Only one was occupied, two were used but empty and one was being stripped by a nurse.
Lara didn’t recognise the girl propped up in the bed as the beaten discarded bundle she’d found in the park. This girl, attached to drips and an oxygen line, thick blonde hair escaping from under a bandage round her head, lips bruised and swollen, purple and red abrasions on cheeks and temple, gazed at her with tears forming in big blue eyes. One arm lay limp on the bed covers, the other had the drip attachment.
‘Lara.’ The word scraped its way out.
‘Hello, Brooke.’ Lara held out the flowers then realised the poor girl couldn’t take them. ‘I brought these for you.’ She stood holding them awkwardly.
‘Thanks.’
Nick stepped forward. ‘I’ll find a vase.’ Warm fingers brushed hers, tingling on her skin.
Lara pulled the one chair to the bed and sat down. ‘How are you?’ Stupid question. How would she be after that experience? But what else could she say? She wasn’t good at this, shouldn’t have come.
‘Sore.’ The tears welled and flooded down the battered cheeks.
Lara pulled a tissue from a box on the table and Brooke took it, dabbing at her eyes.
‘Sorry… I can’t stop...crying.’
‘That’s okay. It’s natural.’ She’d done enough crying to know. Until she toughened up.
‘I don’t know what happened,’ she whispered. ‘I must have done...been stupid...’
‘Why do you say that?’ Lara leaned closer. ‘This isn’t your fault.’
‘But how did I get there? In a park.’ Her chest rose and fell faster as hysteria climbed. ‘I can’t remember.’
Lara employed the technique and voice she used on Petey when he woke with a bad dream. She grasped the free hand and squeezed gently. ‘Ssshhh. It’s all right. You’re safe here. Ssshhh.’
Brooke’s eyes fixed on hers, her fingers returned the grip.
Lara said, ‘I don’t know how you got there but I run by the water in that park. Do you live nearby?’
‘I don’t know.’ Again the breathing quickened in panic. Her eyes searched the room frantically. ‘I don’t remember where I live and that girl said I was Brooke but I don’t remember.’
Lara kept her voice calm hoping she told the truth. ‘Your memory will come back. It just takes time.’
The wandering gaze focussed on her face. ‘That’s what the doctor said.’
‘He’d know. Trust him.’
Brooke lapsed into silence. Her eyelids fluttered shut. She’d probably be up to the eyeballs in painkillers and sedatives. Lara slowly released her grip but Brooke’s eyes flashed open. ‘Don’t go.’
‘I won’t.’
‘You’re the only person I recognise.’
‘I didn’t know you saw me.’
‘I did. Your voice...’ Brooke sniffled into the now sodden tissue. Lara had to strain to hear the hoarse, whispered words. ‘I’m so grateful to you. Thank you for stopping. For helping me.’
Lara bit into her bottom lip to stop the trembling. ‘Anyone would have if they’d seen you.’ Anyone with any decency.
Brooke moved her head in a careful single shake. ‘No-one stopped.’
‘How do you know?’ Lara asked carefully. ‘Do you remember seeing someone? Anyone going by?’
Brooke’s brow wrinkled painfully as she fought the mists in her mind. ‘No.’
‘Never mind.’
More tears plummeted down. ‘It was my fault.’
‘No!’ Lara snapped out the response. ‘Don’t think that. Don’t ever think that.’ She lowered her voice. ‘We...women don’t ask to be beaten up. No-one does.’
‘You saved me.’
A concussion Nick had said. Not thinking clearly at the moment. No point saying she’d come along way too late, and while Brooke was being attacked Lara was peacefully asleep in her bed several blocks away. In this girl’s eyes Lara was her saviour, at least until the immediate shock wore off. The guilt might never go. She needed her real friends and if they were worth it, her family. Lara was no substitute.
‘Brooke, where are your parents?’ she asked abruptly. No way was she acting as a mother or best friend whatever Nick the cop might think she could be. Surely the police could trace her family now they had her name.
Brooke turned her head to the window where rain splashed haphazardly against the glass. Falling more heavily now, the grey uniform and dull.
‘The police can find them. They should be here. Do they know?’ Lara insisted. ‘Have the police told them?’
In the ensuing silence Nick placed the flowers on the bedside table, a bright splash of colour in place of the sun.
‘Have you contacted her parents?’ Lara demanded. ‘You can do that, can’t you?’
Nick faced her across the bed, spoke quietly, the contrast emphasising her own harsh tones. ‘Her father isn’t coming to see her. Her mother passed away three years ago.’
‘I don’t remember my parents,’ wailed Brooke.
‘He might change his mind.’ Lara leaned forward. ‘If my son was in hospital I’d want to know. I wouldn’t care what he’d done in the past. I’d want to be with him.’
Brooke gazed at her through eyes reddened from too much crying, too much pain. ‘I don’t remember,’ she whispered.
A nurse bustled in all stern face and cluck, cluck. ‘Time to leave, please. Brooke needs her rest.’
‘Goodbye, Brooke,’ said Lara.
‘Please come again, Lara,’ came out between sobs and sniffles.
In the corridor Lara exhaled a pent up burst of air. ‘Poor kid. Did she do a runner?’
Nick nodded. He walked beside her as they headed for the lifts. ‘Comes from Tumbarumba. It’s down the Snowy Mountains way. Nothing there for teens. She thought city life was more exciting. She was drugged first, that’s partly why she can’t remember.’ He grimaced. ‘The father’s a real piece of work.’
She pressed the ‘Down’ button. ‘Try him again.’
‘Not much point. He said she’s dead as far as he’s concerned.’
‘Nice.’
‘Yes. Brooke trusts you. She may remember more as she talks to you. Can you visit her again?’
Lara’s muscles locked as a ball of fury welled up like lava. ‘You’re using me.’
His eyes narrowed, assessing. ‘She wanted to see you, to thank you.’
‘But you knew she might talk to me rather than you.’
‘I hoped so and I was right.’
Lara gritted her teeth. Just as she thought. Cops couldn’t be trusted. Manipulative bastards, all of them. The lift was taking ages. She spun on her heel and headed for the stairs with Nick’s bewildered cry of, ‘Lara?’ ringing in her ears. She pounded down the stairs with his footsteps pounding after her.
Nick caught her at the second landing and grasped her arm to slow her, to make her talk. To understand.
‘Please stop!’
Lara snarled like a trapped tiger. ‘Don’t you dare touch me.’
‘I’m sorry.’ He released his hold immediately. ‘Sorry.’ He should never have touched her. Real fear lurked behind that anger. ‘Let me drive you home. Please.’
She held his gaze for a moment then started on down the stairs, but not in the headlong flight of before. He followed, hope rising that she’d grant him this small window of opportunity. ‘Give me a minute to call the station.’
He pulled out his phone and talked to Rob, keeping right on Lara’s tail as they descended. He shouldn’t have grabbed her arm but she was so wrong with her extraordinary assumption and he wanted to fix it.
Endless flights. By the ground floor he was puffing where she was barely breathing harder. She must have calmed down because she turned with a barely concealed smirk at his puffing but didn’t comment.
‘Like a cup of coffee?’ he said.
‘No thanks. I have to collect Petey from my neighbour.’ She started across the foyer to the exit. Rain belted down outside the main doors harder than before, bouncing off the pavement and racing down the gutters in torrents.
‘My car is just outside. Wait here and I’ll pick you up or you’ll be soaked.’
She stopped and looked at his lightweight jacket and slacks. ‘So will you.’ She slipped a hand into the large black leather handbag slung over her shoulder and pulled out a green folding umbrella wrapped in a plastic bag. ‘Take this.’
‘Thanks. Wait right here. It’s a white Holden.’
Nick unfurled the umbrella and hurried through the downpour to the car, which was actually a block away. That was a breakthrough, first accepting a lift home and second offering her umbrella. His legs and shoes were soaked by the time he dived into the car and swung back to collect her from the hospital entrance. Would she still be there? He half expected her to have given him the slip and hailed a taxi as soon as he was out of sight but no, she waited under the overhang, a slim dark-haired figure hunched in her green coat with that gigantic bag over one shoulder. Waiting for him. He smiled. Who are you Lara Moore? Beautiful, enigmatic and prickly. A fascinating creature.
She bundled in beside him bringing with her a scent of flowers and rain. ‘What a cloudburst.’
‘We’ve had enough of those lately. Bring on summer.’
She didn’t reply, as though her one sociable remark was enough for the time being. Nick craned his neck to see round an ambulance then edged into Missenden Road. Visibility was almost zero, the roads were awash but some clowns drove as though they had X-ray vision and divine protection.
‘Lara, I wasn’t using you,’ he said when they were safely across busy Parramatta Road and heading for Birchgrove. ‘If Brooke hadn’t asked to see you I wouldn’t have suggested you visit.’ He added when there was no response, ‘And you called me, remember?’
He risked a glance. Her head was turned away from him, staring out the window. This silence was becoming a tiny bit tiresome. He’d passed on Brooke’s message, Lara had accepted of her own free will. He had no spare time for playing games. ‘I wanted to help the girl and I assume you do too. If that offends your sense of…whatever it is you’re upset about, I’m sorry.’
He stared out the windscreen, concentrating on getting them to her house in one piece. Not allowing the disappointment at her lack of receptiveness to seep into his body. She’d accepted the ride home because it was too wet to wait for the bus. She wasn’t interested in him. Fine.
He really should be back at the station. Brooke’s case wasn’t the only one they had. An elderly woman had been mugged on her way home from the shops, her handbag stolen and her arm broken when the thug knocked her down. It was the third similar attack in ten days. Initially petty crimes but escalating in violence and bravado. And there was the home invasion where a family had been terrorised by a group of masked intruders. A mistaken address involving drugs and the perps had left once that became clear, but not before the husband had been beaten, had two fingers broken and the wife threatened and scared witless. Add five other burglaries and his small team was awash with work.
His irritation increased the more he contemplated the case load. Did he want to become involved with a woman who had a bias against police? It was hard enough keeping any sort of relationship alive for an overworked detective even when both parties were willing. The whole thing was doomed and he was out of his mind to have contemplated any sort of connection. He’d drop Lara home and forget about her.
He swung into her street, up her driveway and as close to the house as he could. She didn’t open the door. He waited, engine running, wipers patiently swishing rainwater from side to side.
‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ Her head was bowed, voice subdued, but she turned suddenly and big brown eyes met his startled gaze full on. Every logical reason for immediately reversing out of the driveway fizzled into vapour.
‘Yes, thanks.’
He switched off the engine. She was already out and running to the shelter of the porch.
Inside she ditched her wet shoes and the umbrella in the small tiled entry foyer and padded in two-tone blue striped socks to the kitchen. Nick removed his damp jacket and hung it on the coat stand, hesitated then slipped off his own soaked loafers. To the right, double doors opened into the living room where he’d talked to her that first day. No little boy, no blocks, just a black leather lounge suite, music system, coffee table, a bookcase and a television. Stylish and comfortable.
The door to the left was closed but was probably a bedroom, her bedroom. Stairs went up on his right but she’d placed a childproof gate at the bottom. Another door opened on the left and as he passed he glanced in to see the baby’s room, all bright colours with a basket of toys overflowing and big pictures on the walls. Opposite, the door under the stairs would be the bathroom. The whole rear of the house had been renovated to open into a family room and kitchen. Glass doors led onto the spacious garden, gloomy and grey today. The dark rectangle of earth where he’d dug for her had turned to mud.
How could she afford this place? Did she own or rent? Won the lottery? Stop it!
He must stop instinctively querying everything, put his detective hat away while he talked to her. She’d throw him out if he so much as hinted at an interrogation.
Lara filled the electric jug. Nick drew out a stool and sat at a mahogany-topped bench which separated the kitchen from the family area. She set out mugs, sugar and milk, then produced a plate of homemade oatmeal biscuits.
‘Anzacs,’ he said with genuine delight. ‘My mum makes these.’
‘I don’t use the traditional recipe. Mine don’t have coconut,’ she said. ‘I don’t like it.’
Nick bit into one. ‘Delicious. I haven’t had a proper homemade Anzac biscuit for years.’
‘You could bake them yourself.’ A half-smile accompanied her remark.
Nick nodded and swallowed the remainder of the biscuit. ‘If I had the time, no doubt I could.’
‘Do you cook?’ She said it as though a man who could cook was a rare and endangered species.
‘I do. My mother said she wasn’t raising helpless boys who couldn’t look after themselves. I can also sew on a button and iron a shirt.’
That brought the first real smile and the transformation was staggering. Just as he’d imagined, when she smiled the world glowed brighter. But as quickly as it appeared, the sunshine faded.
‘Will all this rain ruin my vegetables?’
He shook his head. ‘The sun will be out tomorrow and they’ll forge ahead. The tomatoes won’t do well if we get a wet summer, though.’
‘I don’t know anything about that kind of thing.’
‘City girl,’ he said covering the subtle question with a smile.
Lara brought the teapot to the bench and poured. ‘Yes. Through and through.’ It wasn’t so hard, this chatting. If she forgot he was a cop and thought of him as an ordinary man. A friend. She didn’t have any. The realisation came like a little pinprick. Tony had made sure she didn’t cultivate friendships — not even with her girlfriends and certainly not with men. She’d got out of the habit of being ordinary, being sociable for no other reason than friendliness and innocent pleasure in someone else’s company, male or female. Ellie was the closest to a friend she had now and she was about forty years older, with John even more.
‘Brooke had a rough introduction to the city.’ He took another biscuit.
‘I wonder why she ran away.’ Similar reasons to her own, no doubt. Freedom. Salvation. Saving herself from what she saw as a slow death by boredom or suffocation by what sounded like an impossibly strict and unforgiving father.
‘She’s a teenager. Her mother dying may have been the trigger.’
Lara caught Nick’s eye. A little jolt of awareness flashed and was gone. She looked away, down into her mug of tea. ‘How could her father say that — she’s dead as far as he’s concerned? ’
Her own family may not care much about her and she never wanted to see any of them again but deep down she knew none of them wished each other dead.
‘I don’t know, but I’ve come across all sorts.’
‘But she’s his child.’ She frowned trying to comprehend such hatred for your own flesh and blood. ‘Since I’ve had Petey I’ve changed my views on parents and children.’ She ran a finger along the smooth handle of the mug.
‘I don’t have any kids but I understand.’ Nick spoke casually but his pulse raced. Skittish Lara was starting to relax, to accept him. She’d offered tea and biscuits, smiled, admittedly only the once, but that had opened up a world of possibilities a few minutes earlier in the car he’d deemed unattainable.
‘You’re good with them. With Petey.’ She closed her mouth abruptly as if she’d confided too much, had realised the conversation was veering into the personal.
‘I have nieces and nephews,’ he said smoothly. ‘They’re enough for me.’
‘In Sydney?’
‘Some are, some aren’t. Where’s your boy?’
‘Next door. Ellie’s probably stuffing him full of chocolate.’ She picked up her tea but put it down without drinking. ‘Will you catch whoever attacked her?’
‘We don’t have much to go on. We don’t know where she was that night or who with. If you can talk to her some more we may get some clues.’ He waited for the inevitable explosion but he had to try. Brooke may not be the only girl in danger from this vicious bastard. A date-raper who probably couldn’t get it up so preferred to punch his dates.
She rubbed her lips together. ‘Can’t you track where she was that night?’
‘Only if she was seen in a nightclub or a bar. The work colleagues have no idea what she did after hours. We have her address from her employer but she lives alone in a bedsit in Annandale and the neighbours are less than useless. Only one even recognised her photo.’
Lara didn’t respond. Nick paused. She was a decent woman. He knew instinctively she wanted to help but something was preventing her from getting too involved. It wasn’t lack of compassion, he was certain. The expression in those big brown eyes told him that much. He said, ‘If she went with this man to his apartment someone may have seen her but that could be anywhere. We have to wait for someone to come forward.’
She raised her head. ‘That could take forever. Years.’
‘Yes. Unless it happens again with another girl.’
‘Do you think it will? The same man?’
‘It’s possible. He used the date rape drug on her and that usually indicates a guy who won’t stop at one. She may not be the first.’
She hissed in air while her face grew stony. ‘He didn’t rape her though.’
‘Could be any number of reasons. Could be why he turns to violence. Impotence. Or he was interrupted.’
‘What about DNA?’
‘We have traces but they’re no use without someone to match it to.’
Lara picked up the teapot but Nick shook his head. He slid off the stool. ‘I’d better go. Thanks for the tea and Anzacs.’
A tiny smile flicked on and off. ‘Thanks for the ride home.’
‘No worries.’
She followed him to the front door, slipped on her shoes and took her coat and the umbrella from the hallstand.
‘I have to collect Petey from next door.’
Nick crammed his feet into damp loafers. ‘Say hello to him for me. He’s quite a character.’
Another tiny smile.
He stepped out onto the porch, drawing his coat around him, keys in hand ready to run for the car. Just as he was about to launch himself into the waterfall, Lara said, ‘I’ll call you if Brooke says anything useful.’