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“I wish I was with you now. I’ll be dreaming about you, Claire”
“Me too.”
She gave him an impish grin.
“I’ll show you Friday what we did.”
???
I wake up ridiculously early, my stomach filled with butterflies. My heart racing. Shaun’s coming home.
And then, a moment of cavernous dread. What on earth am I going to wear?
I look at my small selection of worn-out clothes and well-travelled underwear. It was all I could carry in my rucksack, but now after months on the road and what with the painting and manual work, it’s all gone a bit tatty.
That’s it, I decide. The girl needs to shop. And fast. It’s a two-hour drive over to the east coast, but Tia said that there are decent stores there. Whatever they have, it’s got to be an improvement on the checked farmer shirts and armpit-hugging granny knickers in town.
I get there as the shops are opening and pull up by the marina where the town’s harbour inlet is lined with expensive yachts in their moorings. Tia was right when she told me that the east coast was a world away from the agricultural backwaters and wild, forested west side of the country.
Fuelled by a quick coffee and croissant in the morning sunshine I go in search of some serious retail therapy.
By early afternoon I’m shopped out and heading back on the long drive to the lake.
My hair’s styled and I’m waxed and polished like a showroom car. I’m feeling great, but those pesky little butterflies of anticipation are still there. And their wings beat like mad when I try to decide which of the lingerie sets on the seat beside me I’m going to wear tonight.
???
“That you ready for home?”
Ari was emptying the last remnants of the large fridge as Shaun lugged his bags through to the kitchen.
He’d spent all day with his friend, cleaning and stripping down the hostel after the boys left that morning for their summer holidays.
It was strange to think that the hostel wouldn’t be opening up again.
“I’m gonna miss this place. And the boys.”
“You did good, Shaun.”
“Thanks, bro. I’m still worried about Rawiri, though.”
He’d not been back to school or the hostel since Shaun had seen him heading off on the back of the motorbike.
Ari scratched his head.
“His mum’s related to a cousin of mine. I’ll find out what’s goin’ on with him. But from the sounds of it, he’s headed to the forest camp with his dad.”
That was what Shaun feared too. He put his hand on Ari’s shoulder.
“All the best with your teaching course. Give my love to Michelle.”
“And to Claire.”
Ari snuck him a look that cracked Shaun’s smirk into a broad cheesy smile. Ari hadn’t left him be until he’d spilled the beans about Claire.
Ari had been curious. He’d wanted to know everything about her. Who she was, how they’d met, what she’d been doing in Wales before she came out to New Zealand. Who she thought her dad was. Shaun had told him everything about her, even about the attack. He was going to miss his friend.
“See you at the lodge. Soon, yeah? There’s room for you all and plenty of trout in the lake.”
“Still will be while you’re fishing there.”
Ari squared and faced his friend, grasping his hand and leaning in, nose to nose with Shaun in the traditional hongi.
“Ka kite ano. See you soon, bro.”
Chapter 17
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Something was off.
He could see something was wrong as soon as he turned the bend after the public beach. The ute had been left with the driver door wide open and the place looked deserted. The lodge appeared to be locked up and there was nobody about.
Shaun slowed the BMW right down.
Then, as he rolled the car warily up towards the lodge, he clocked the full bags of groceries strewn across the passenger seat of the truck. His stomach lurched. That wasn’t right at all.
A part of his brain he’d hoped he’d never have to use again, began firing up, quickly assessing the situation.
It didn’t matter which way he evaluated it. It wasn’t good.
And where was Claire?
Edgily, he turned the steering wheel, cruising closer, scanning his eyes over the property and across towards the barn. Slowly circling in the turning space before the driveway to the house, he headed back towards the public beach area. He turned there and then parked up on the grassy verge by the track to the lodge.
From there, he surveyed the lodge and the drive meticulously. At first from inside the car and then outside from the cover of the car door.
Was there someone there? There were no movements, no unexplained shadows from the buildings or inside the windows of the lodge. But he was still a little too far away to be sure.
Bursting from behind the car, his trainers slid in the dust as he power-sprinted up the track and over towards the property. He dived for cover behind a thick line of flax bushes a few metres before the barn.
No explosions of splintering wood, no popping bangs. Everywhere remained ghostly still.
Taking his chance he lunged himself forward into the open once more, bounding forward to the edge of the barn wall and then making a final dash to the barn door.
Yanking it open he scanned the space with his eyes, then slid swiftly inside and gathered his breath.
Think.
What had happened here?
Think.
He rubbed his face, trying to calm himself down.
The barn was spookily silent. Motes of dust suspended on the cool air inside. It had been swept clean. Gardening tools had been neatly propped up on one side.
He examined the space and checked the second storage area which he’d left open.
Nothing looked disturbed. Everything was tidy. There were no signs of any struggle.
He checked the top loft area, hidden from view. If he was hiding, he’d choose there. Out of view, secret and only accessible by ladder.
But it was empty. The old mattress, the tilly lamp and stove; it looked the same as before.
His heart sank.
She hadn’t been here either.
Grabbing a kindling axe that was propped up in the corner, he scooted back towards the barn door and spied back out from behind it again.
He’d developed catlike senses in the special forces, and he was certain now that he couldn’t sense anyone else around. But, what he’d give right now for a semi-automatic.
Warily, hatchet in hand and tracking the edge of the barn he ducked low as he moved. Then he broke out into the open, sprinting towards the ute.
Diving for cover behind the truck’s open door, he crouched there for a minute. And more. Waiting, in case it was a trap.
He exhaled.
Gingerly, he straightened a little and took one more cautious assessment of the area before turning his attention to the ute.
Car keys lay discarded in the dust two feet away from the driver’s side.
He picked them up.
“Claire, honey,” he whispered as much to himself as to her.
“Where are you?”
The house looked like it was locked up.
A large unopened parcel lay propped up, undisturbed against the kitchen door.
This was no home invasion.
Leaning his head inside, tentatively he began searching inside the cab.
His gut churned.
Three bags of new clothes and one of beautiful lingerie.
As he lifted out a pair of aubergine-coloured panties and felt their soft satin in his fingers, his eyes began to sting and he let out a shaky breath.
Her handbag was still lying on the passenger seat.
He lifted it and looked inside. Her purse was still in there. Cash and bank cards untouched.
r /> Growing a little bolder, he skirted around the truck door and felt the car’s bonnet, then doubled back and released the catch from inside the truck and felt the engine underneath the bonnet.
Stone cold.
He examined the groceries. The chicken breasts she’d bought felt warm to touch in their cellophane and gave off an unmistakable whiff when he peeled back the wrapping.
On a hot day like this, she’d have had the air con on when she drove from Dargarei, he rationalised. It was early evening now so the shopping had to have been sitting in the sun for one, maybe two hours?
He stood up straight and surveyed the area thoroughly one more time.
More certain now that he was alone, he jogged over to the porch and tried the handle.
He was right, the place was still locked up.
Inside was tidy. No broken windows or damage to the lodge. No torn clothes. No pools of blood, thank God. He doubted she’d even made it inside.
Where was she?
“Claire!”
He called out her name loudly from the porch step, scanning carefully around, already feeling the futility of his cries.
His voice thickened.
“Claire? Are you there?”
But the only calls that answered him were the melodious songs of the tui birds in the trees and the flat-sounding squawk of Rowdy in the chicken coop.
“Claire!.... No!.... Fuck, no!”
He broke down.
They’d taken his Claire.
He willed himself to be the soldier he was. To think fast and hard. Be logical and analytical, think dispassionately about this.
Instead, he retched into the dirt in front of the house, his stomach desperately heaving up his anxiety and dread.
He wiped his face with the back of his hand and went over to kneel down at the lakeshore, cleaning his hands and splashing his face with water.
Who would have taken her?
There was a contract out on him, the officer from the British Consulate had confirmed that. And Claire had told him about the Scousers coming after her in Greece and the warning she’d been given.
His mind slammed back to a time before, when he’d been grabbed by the Scouser gang. Irish had set a trap for him in a crowded boozer, where he’d been jumped by some goons and thrown into the boot of a car. It was highly unlikely that Irish would be able to do that here. And from what he’d seen of the Scousers, they weren’t trained military men. They depended heavily on loyal gym-built meatheads.
