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CHAPTER FIVE
SIERRA SAT OUT on her front deck, taking small sips of her hot coffee, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The wind and stormy weather from yesterday had gone and the sun was making an appearance today. It was still cool outside, but Sierra needed the fresh air to clear her head.
Yesterday had been a doozy. After the Sarge and Reed left, Sierra spent the rest of the day curled up in the cocoon of her warm bed. The triptan her doctor prescribed helped to ease the pain to a manageable level. Without the pills, even the slightest movement caused knives of white-hot fire to shoot through her head, so bad she would sometimes even vomit. But even after the medicine had taken the sharp edges off her pain, her head still throbbed, and any bright light hurt her eyes, so she’d stayed in bed for the rest of the day. Finally, she’d found refuge in sleep, not waking until early this morning, when the sun peeked through her curtains.
Still fragile and achy, at least she was now able to face her first cup of coffee for the day. She liked to swim in the sea most mornings, if the weather allowed. Even in winter, she had a thick wetsuit to keep out the worst of the cold. Swimming and hiking were the two things that kept her fit and trim. She loved the feel of the brisk water as her hands cut through the waves, leaving her mind free to roam. But she couldn’t face a swim. Not today.
The view from her front deck was spectacular, and she breathed in the fresh, salty air and the wide-open spaces. The coastline of Kangaroo Island was wild and untamed, the ocean often whipped to a frenzy by freezing gales of wind driven up from Antarctica. But today, it was a gentle, metallic blue, with white, foaming waves curling onto the beach below. She’d loved this house from the first moment she’d set eyes on it and had paid the seller’s asking price without a second thought. Every morning when she got up, she was greeted by a different vista of ocean, ever changing with the seasons. She would never get tired of this place. It was her sanctuary, when the rest of the world drove her crazy.
The interior was done in soft creams and natural colors, with warm, wooden floors covered in rattan mats. Pale blues and darker grays were highlighted in the cushions and a throw blanket on the couch, and the paintings on the wall gave a hint of color here and there. The inside was meant to blend seamlessly to the outside through the large floor-to-ceiling windows. The house was a safe haven, a calm place where she could work in peace while still feeling like nature was right there when she needed it.
Jon, her black cat, was curled up in her lap, purring. Snow, who was white—of course—watched from her spot on the table where she could survey her domain.
“A lot of help you two were the other night. Where were you when that burglar broke into our house?” Both cats had clearly done the sensible thing and taken off into the scrub at the first sign of trouble. She didn’t blame them for not hanging around. Cats were smart like that. But not the best protection.
“How would you like it if I got a dog instead, huh?” Jon narrowed his green eyes at her and purred a little louder. Perhaps she should get a dog. Sam, her neighbor, had suggested it the other night, worried about her staying out here, a single woman on her own. Snow got up and stalked over the tabletop until she was level with Sierra’s face. The cat gave her a knowing look and proceeded to butt her head up against Sierra’s ear, whiskers tickling.
Sierra laughed. “No, you’re right, I would never replace you two.” And besides, a dog might try and chase the chickens. Sierra had six bantams in a run in her back yard. Initially, she bought them for the fresh eggs they provided, but now she loved them for their quirky company and the way they kept her garden bug-free. They all had names: Cindi, Bindi, Samantha, Blue, Red, and Ruffles. With the large feral-cat problem on the island she always kept them locked up in their pen at night. Which reminded her, she should go and let them out so they could run around the garden. With all the stuff happening yesterday and then her migraine, they’d been cooped up way too long.
Her cell phone trilled loudly, startling Snow, who gave it a disapproving look and stalked away to the other side of the table. Sierra checked the caller ID, hesitated, and then answered the call.
“Jen, hello. How goes it?” Sierra kept her voice bright and perky.
“Same old, same old. How about you?” Jen had a deep voice for a woman, and Sierra let her familiar tone wash over her. They’d known each other a long time; Jen was Sierra’s first editor at The Adelaide Advertiser. She was now the editor-in-chief, and Sierra knew she was the right person for the job. They’d become steadfast friends after only her first day on the job, even though Jen was nearly twelve years her senior. Jen made a special point of keeping in touch with Sierra after she moved to KI.
Sierra hesitated. “I’m…all good.” No point in worrying her friend. “Just sitting out on the front deck drinking coffee.”
“Oh, I love your front deck,” Jen sighed. “I’m going to have to come for another visit. Soon.” Her friend had visited Sierra many times over the past ten years. At first, it was a regular thing, coming every couple of months, to make sure Sierra was surviving after the accident. But lately her visits had dropped off, and she hadn’t seen Jen in nearly twelve months.
“But that’s not why I’m calling. I have a bone to pick with you. I hear you came to town and you couldn’t even be bothered to pop in and see me.”
Sierra winced. Jesus, that woman had her spies everywhere. She’d hoped that her short trip into Adelaide the day before would go unnoticed. But she hadn’t counted on the reach of Jen’s network.
“Who did you have to bribe to find that out?” Sierra asked, only half-joking. Before her ex-boss could answer, Sierra said, “Never mind. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It was just a quick trip to pick up a new pair of hiking boots and a few other necessities. And to pop in and see my long-suffering mother,” Sierra added as an afterthought. The mention of her family should mollify Jen. The truth was, Sierra hated going into her old office building. It reminded her of Jake. And Grace. And there were still people working there who remembered her, remembered what’d happened. Their pitying looks were almost too much to bear.
“Hmm.” Jen didn’t sound at all mollified.
“I promise to come and see you next time I’m in town.” An idea popped into Sierra’s head and the words were out before she had time to think. “Actually, I’ll probably be over in a week or so. My computer was stolen, so I need to replace it. Let’s have lunch then.” Shit. She slapped her hand to her forehead. Why had she said that?
Like a bloodhound on a scent, Jen’s reply was immediate. “What? Stolen? How? When? I need the details.”
Sierra sighed and sat up straighter. Now the cat was out of the bag, she may as well admit to everything. Jen would find out one way or the other, eventually.
“My house got broken into the night before last. They took my laptop. Plus, all my mum’s jewelry and a whole heap of money I had stashed away.”
“Bloody hell, Sierra. Are you okay? Have they caught the thief? I’m gonna kill that bastard.”
Sierra almost laughed at the overprotective tone in her friend’s voice. Jen was African American, and taller than most men. She could just imagine her short, bushy hair standing on end as Jen bristled with indigence. It was one of the many things Sierra loved about her friend, her fierce loyalty to those she cared about.
“Calm down, I’m fine. No, they haven’t caught anyone yet. But Jon and Snow are fine, just in case you’re worried.” Sierra patted the still-purring cat’s head. He stretched out a paw and settled himself more comfortably into her lap. “I wasn’t home when the thief, or thieves, broke in. They did trash my house, though.”
“Oh, thank God.” Jen let out a loud, heartfelt sigh. “But hang on, why would they trash your house?”
“I’m not sure. The Sarge thought it was either kids or a druggie. But they didn’t take a lot. There was plenty of other things they could’ve stolen. It was almost as if they took pleasure in turning my house into a complete tip. They even smashed the mirror in my bedroom, and tipped the vase of flowers and water all over my bed. It was odd, very destructive,” Sierra mused, almost thinking out loud.
There was silence on the other end of the phone, and she knew Jen was digesting her story, sorting through the details, trying to come up with a motive.
“Have you heard from that psycho lately? That letter-writing stalker?”
