Coming Attractions (19 page)

It wasn’t until
they had paid for their luxury shellac foot treatments and headed back toward
the station that Cara broached the subject she had been edging toward. If she
didn’t raise the topic in the next two minutes, she would have to resort to
calling Belle especially, which seemed crazy.

“Um… Belle… You’ve
heard the stories about my mother and her missing fortune?”

“The whole world
has heard about that. We had money-hungry crazies hunting all over this town
for months, years, after she d— Sorry.”

“That’s okay.
Look, it’s come to light that we might actually be looking for a jewel. A
fairly big one. A sapphire.”

“Okay…”

“Yes, well, I
wanted to show you a jewel my sister had in her possession.” Cara didn’t
mention that it had spent a good part of its life in a children’s toy box or
that she had cleared off the coating of sand, talcum powder, and pencil
shavings by running the tiara under the back kitchen tap.

Despite her
efforts to remain unruffled, Cara could see Belle’s knuckles whitening.

Cara reached into
her bag and produced the tiara.

Belle gasped.

Then laughed.

“Oh,
you really had me going for a moment there. Did Brian put you up to this? What
a joke. Bringing me a replica of Queen Elizabeth’s 1963 Sapphire Suite tiara, and
not a very good replica at that. It’s all out of proportion. If this sapphire
were real, you could buy a small country.” Belle’s laughter continued to trill,
grating on Cara’s nerves more with every passing moment.

“What
on earth was he thinking, sending you along here with paste and paint? He has
such an odd sense of humor, doesn’t…hang on. You were serious?”

Cara
nodded, her eyes downcast and her mouth tight and trembling.

“Oh,
shit, Cara. Sorry. This is junk jewelery. What makes you think it’s a sapphire you’re
looking for?”

Cara
told Belle about the letter she had found and its mention of the Midnight Star.

“Yes, the Midnight Star’s a famous sapphire all right. Let me
think.
 
Middle Eastern sale, maybe fifteen
or twenty years ago. Sold for $50 million or so, the rumor mill said. Be worth
a bucketload more now. Sapphires aren’t really my thing. I much prefer diamonds—a
girl’s best friend and all. There’s something bothering me about this story,
but I can’t quite bring it to mind. It’s ringing bells all over the place, but
I just can’t remember. When I get home, I’ll check up on the background of the
Midnight Star and get back to you. I have your number back at the shop. Must
put it in my phone before I lose it.”

“Perfect
timing, ladies,” Brian interrupted, opening the front door of the police
station and gesturing them inside to where Levi waited.

Cara stuffed
the tiara into her handbag before Levi saw it. She’d be embarrassed if he knew
she’d mistaken a child’s toy for her mother’s fortune.

Brian
continued, “I hope you don’t mind, Cara, but I took the liberty of having the
guys give your bike a thorough detail, so it’s as good as new. Well, almost.”

He
picked up a brown clipboard from the counter and walked them through to the
back parking lot where the Ducati gleamed deeply.

“The
scratches are gone, the mirror and footpegs have been replaced. I’ve had to
leave the damaged rear indicator in place as I couldn’t source a new one in
time. But it’s full of fuel and ready to go.”

“Oh, Brian!
I can’t thank you enough. And I’m tempted to leave the dinged indicator there
as a reminder of our adventure. A battle scar.”

“What’s
happening with the thief?” Levi asked him.

           
“He’s cooling his heels until Judge
Moriarty gets back from vacation tomorrow.” Brian turned back to Cara. “Here’s
your keys. Just sign this form and it’s all yours.”

“You
heading back to Flinders’ Keep?” Levi asked her.

“I
will, just as soon as I check in with Mia.”

****

Mia took a long time to answer the door and, when she appeared,
she was wearing a robe. Her hair was matted, her makeup was smeared, and she
sported some kind of a rash down her face and neck. Cara’s first thought was
that her sister was sick, but then Joe sidled into the doorframe beside Mia,
and between his smirk and every-which-way hair, Cara realized she was
interrupting a reconciliation.

“I can go,” offered Cara, shifting from foot to foot.

“No, come in,” Mia and Joe chorused.

“Really, I can come back later.”

“We could do with a break…er cuppa,” said Joe.

“Is
that a hickey?” Cara practically shrieked as she followed Mia into the kitchen.

Mia’s
hand flew to the offending bruise on her neck. “Shut up, big sister,” she
muttered through clenched teeth.

“I don’t
believe it. My pure and prudent sister has a hickey.”

“I
said, shut up.” But Mia’s tone was giddy and girlish and her smile could have
lit up the whole town.

The
three of them sat around the table on the veranda while Cara returned the tiara
and told Mia and Joe the whole story. She felt like an idiot, but came totally
clean, including telling them that Levi needed money to help a desperately sick
young relative. She left out the bit about Levi’s motorcycle crash and how he
blamed himself, figuring that wasn’t her story to tell.

“Oh,
the poor thing,” Mia sympathized. “Surely there’s a way to fundraise money for
treatment rather than relying on a rather improbable sapphire?”

“He
said they’d tried fundraising, but without much success.”

“Mum
always said the key to raising money was to spin a good story,” Mia reflected. “That’s
how she wangled funding for many of her expeditions.”

“You’re
right, she did. It’s when people get caught up in the adventurous quest that
they part with their money,” Cara said, doing a decent impression of her Mom’s
voice.

“Dad
was always the better storyteller, though,” Mia added, and Cara nodded, her
mind going immediately to the story she had told Freya.

“I
told Freya Dad’s story about the axe,” Cara said.

Mia
laughed. “You mean the ‘ack,’ don’t you?”

“Yes.”
Cara smiled, pleased that Mia recalled the old joke. “Just one ack to sharpen.”

Suddenly,
the impact of Mia’s recollections brought Cara’s train of thought to an abrupt
halt.

“Dad…?
How do you…? You were too young to remember him. Surely?”

“I don’t
remember much. We were little when he disappeared. But there are a few things
like his bedtime stories and the smell of his aftershave. I can picture the
shark’s tooth he wore around his neck.”

“I’d
forgotten that,” said Cara. “He used to claim he plucked it right out of the
shark’s mouth when it tried to eat him. I don’t know how much truth was in that
story. He had some quirks. He loved wearing a soul patch way before it was
fashionable, he played the mandolin, and he did magic tricks. I vaguely remember
something with an egg and a feather.”

“I don’t
remember that, but I know he only ever used to eat half a biscuit.”

“Yes, he’d
say he was saving the other half for Mom. And he hated almonds, but loved Vegemite.”

“And
apples gave him the hiccups.”

They
smiled fondly at each other, sharing the scant threads of a happy time in
childhood.

“How
did that song go?” Cara wondered aloud.

“The
one he used to sing at bath time?”

“And
dinner time, and in the car.”

“Not
sure. Da da da da, la la?” Mia sang.

“Yeah…
Da da da da morning…something, something your eyes. Da da da and lovely…”

“Something
about sinking? Something shy?”

They
paused, stumped.

“Yeah…
We should think about something else. It’ll come back,” said Cara.

“I’ll
probably dream it tonight.”

They
both sank quietly into their own thoughts.

“I
wonder why he went away.” Mia spoke aloud the question they were each no doubt
both asking themselves.

“I don’t
know,” Cara replied. “Mom didn’t talk about him. The one time I mustered the
courage to ask, she said some bad men had taken him away and that he would have
come back if he could. I guess that was her way of saying he got himself
killed.”

A tiny
flicker of hope sparked deep in Cara’s chest. What if Alessandra hadn’t meant
he had died? Maybe he was simply a prisoner somewhere and couldn’t return to
his beloved family. Maybe he had not abandoned them after all. Maybe…

Cara
squashed the thought with brutal deliberation.

Looking
at Mia all aglow and relaxed made her think that now would be a good time to
broach the volatile topic of the film, and introduce the notion of Alessandra’s
lover.

This
time, she trod extra carefully. Her sensitivity and Mia’s loved-up state must
have helped. While still prickly and skeptical, Mia didn’t fly off the handle
and at least listened. She was shocked and curious about the lover.

At
that moment, Joe excused himself to refresh their drinks. Mia waited until he
was out of earshot before she spoke.

“I
hoped he had missed us and decided to come back,” Mia said, gesturing at Joe. “Turns
out that rogue of a daughter of mine invited all and sundry—no offense—to her
party. I think she was hoping Joe and I would patch things up and get back
together.”

“And
did her plan work?”

Mia
blushed becomingly. “We haven’t actually talked about it, but…”

“Trust
me,” said Cara. “Sometimes, talking about stuff is overrated.”

In
that moment, she wished she could send her father a birthday invitation, any
kind of invitation, and have him waltz back into their lives and make
everything okay. But he was dead and so was Alessandra. The fortune was
missing. Levi needed money for Bronte’s operation, and the only way to get it
seemed to be to get the film done and cash in at the box office.

Well,
if that was the only thing she could control, the only solution she could come
up with, then that’s what she would focus on. She said her goodbyes to Mia and
Joe and rode toward Flinders’ Keep with a new determination and sense of
purpose.

Chapter Sixteen

The
water was running in the bathroom when she returned to the trailer. She
pictured the tiny, enclosed space, imagined his naked body under the surprisingly
strong water jets, considered leaving him alone to his ablutions.

“Nah,”
she scoffed, toeing off her boots and peeling off her clothes.

Her
hand hesitated over the door handle.

What
if he wasn’t alone in there? What if she wasn’t welcome? What if he wasn’t in
the mood to entertain her and her naughty intentions?

Well
then, she thought, she’d just have to get creative and change his mind.

As it
happened, he was visibly in the mood for some mischievous entertainment, at
least partially anyway. Cara made short work of making him extra hard and extra
keen.

One
look at her naked body sliding into the minute bathroom brought him even
further to attention.

“Thinking
about me?” she purred, sliding past the streaming shower curtain and into the
stall, pretending to steady herself by bracing her hands against him when all
she wanted was to feel his wet skin under her palms.

“As a
matter of fact.” He gestured toward his rising manhood. “You and your hot, sexy
little body have been front and center in my thoughts.”

“Do
tell,” she breathed, running her hands over his dripping chest and torso in the
wake of the gushing stream from the showerhead.

“I was
imagining that you were here, naked, touching me.” He sucked in a sharp breath
as her hand darted between his legs and gave his balls a quick, provocative
squeeze. “But this…” He groaned, kissing her hard. “Is so much better than my
imagination.”

She
was turned on beyond reason, her nipples were spiky little points of lust, her
clit was a throbbing “explode” button. So, when his hands eased from the flare
of her waist down the curve of her ass, she wriggled away, wanting to draw out
the sweet agony.

She
kissed his chest, wet, open-mouthed, moving steadily downward, making her
intentions abundantly clear.

When
she dropped to her knees and ran her tongue leisurely up and down his thighs,
he hissed his pleasure and his need, and his cock bobbed and bucked, leaving no
doubt what he wanted.

She
didn’t make him wait. Eager for the taste of him, hungry for the feel of his
ramrod hardness filling her, she drew him deeply inside her mouth and sucked,
hard. His whole body juddered and she sensed him reach out and steady himself
against the wall as though his balance was shot and he needed the support.

She
took him deeply again and his left hand found its way to the back of her head,
gently pressing her skull, silently imploring her to give him more. She didn’t
need to be asked twice. She sucked on his manhood, sliding her tongue over the
engorged tip, then tilting her head back to allow him further access.

His
fingers were entwined in her hair, almost imperceptibly marking out a push-pull
rhythm that she delightedly fixed on and followed. He guided her head forward
and plunged deeply into her, then gently eased partway out so that her lips
cradled his thick penis as he readied for another thrust.

His
noises were like those of an animal, hungry and primitive and demanding, even
while his trembling touch stayed light. She admired his restrained, but couldn’t
help but wonder what it would take to make him lose his cool.

Impishly,
she began to increase the tempo of their coupling. She sucked harder, pulled
him further in, clutched his butt cheeks, urging him to pump faster into her
mouth.

His
hands were no longer gentle in her hair. They were yanking at the damp curls,
pushing her head into his groin again and again.

“Oh,
God, yesssss…” He moaned and she felt him tense up, almost reaching the limits
of his control.

She
didn’t let up, didn’t back off, did nothing to ease his tension and everything
to escalate it. She made her own sounds of delight and encouragement as he
pulsed into her. She gripped his ass harder with one hand, almost slamming his
pelvis into her face. She moved her other hand to the sweet spot just behind
his balls and within a split second, he was roaring and gasping through the
excruciating pleasure she had given him, making one final lunge in to her
willing mouth and pouring his seed down her greedy throat, over her tongue, and
finally across her lips like the most precious balm she would ever taste.

For a
moment, he stood still, catching his breath, slowing his heart rate, coming
back to himself. He blinked once, twice. When he smiled at her like she was an
all-you-can eat dessert bar and he was famished, she was pretty sure they were
about to use up every skerrick of hot water. And she didn’t mind one bit.

****

His
phone rang at three a.m. She was instantly awake and her first thought was of
Bronte. He barely stirred. She saw the flash of the screen where he had
discarded his cell amongst the bed clothes. She picked up the phone as she
shook him awake. Saw the caller ID. Couldn’t avoid it really.

“Candy.”
Stripper? Escort? Ironic hitman?

He
took the phone and answered with his surname before his eyes were even open,
his voice sounding awake despite the reality.

But
whatever Candy said next had his eyelids up like crazed roller blinds. He
listened with his whole attention for maybe thirty seconds, nodding and making
affirmative noises.

Cara
could hear the fast-paced, high-pitched commentary from the other end of the
line, but only the occasional phrase resolved itself. “
Took the bait…guarantee…recommend you…”

“And it’s
definitely a done deal?”

Whatever
Candy replied had him smiling like he’d scoffed the whole cage of canaries and
the budgie too.

He
quickly signed off, placed the phone beside the bed, yanked Cara into his arms,
and snuggled with her.

“Um…good
news?” she asked, feeling a bit miffed at being left out of the information
loop. “You look like you just found Mom’s missing treasure.”

“Better
than good news and better than treasure. You may have to remind me in the
morning that that call was real and not a dream,” he told her, his voice
infused with happiness but clogged with sleep.

“Bronte?”

“No.
Not Bronte, exactly. Long story, babe. Tell you in the morning,” he murmured, lapsing
into soft snores as he drifted into an uncharacteristically deep and tranquil
sleep.

Cara
lay awake for a long time wondering. What on earth had the phone call meant?
Who was Candy? And why was he so thrilled to hear from her at three in the
morning?

Despite
her deliberations, Cara must have fallen asleep because when she awoke, sunlight
streamed in through the skylight. It was her phone ringing and Levi was nowhere
to be seen.

She answered Belle’s
call, still half asleep with the wisps of dark, sensual dreams still clinging
to her consciousness. She wondered if, perhaps, she had imagined Levi’s cell
going off in the early hours. Maybe it had been some weird and vivid hallucination.

“I’ll cut to the
chase,” said Belle without preamble. “The
Midnight Star weighed an enormous eleven hundred
carats.”

Cara’s sleep-fogged brain scrambled to get on
topic.
Carats…Midnight… Oh, the sapphire!

“That is enormous,” Belle continued. Almost
record-breaking. Plus, it’s unusual in that it is a
black
sapphire. At the time it was sold, it was uncut—a superb
quality stone that could be transformed into a star sapphire.”

Cara wished she had Levi’s ability to sound alert
even when sleep-fuddled. Her eyes flicked around the room. The black alarm
showed it was about to turn nine. The cat had somehow snuck into the trailer
and nestled at her feet. She idly stroked it.

“Transformed? When you say transformed…?”
Insightful, cowgirl, erudite and articulate.

The skylight was still propped open and she could
hear the whirr and whine of tools and machinery, the shouts of the crew, and
the rumble of vehicles. The air was a strange potpourri of earth, roses and
pine, coffee and bacon.

“Well, in its natural state?” Belle continued. “It
would look kind of like…well…a lump of rock.”

There was silence for a moment. Cara was suddenly
wide, wide awake. Adrenaline swamped her entire system. She literally felt it
course through her body on a wave of realization, flooding her limbs like a
drug. Her body had connected the dots before her brain fully registered the
implication of Belle’s assertion.

“So…this sapphire? It might be gray with some black
crystally bits? Kind of wobbly and not particularly eye-catching? About the
size of a man’s fist?”

Cara held her breath, waiting for Belle’s answer,
yet already knowing she would confirm her suspicions. The cat stirred and
stretched, yawning and arching. The clock ticked over to nine. A cloud passed
over the sun.

“A giant’s fist, more like it. And worth a giant’s
fortune.”

Cara’s smile was wide and instantaneous. Her joy
was sharp and loud and satisfying, like a colossal chainsaw roaring. She could
barely catch her breath and her heart thumped like she had just done ten rounds
with Mike Tyson.

“Thank you, Belle. I could kiss you! You are the
bee’s knees, the cat’s pajamas,
and
the duck’s guts.”

“You’ll be pleased to know Brian agrees,” Belle
confessed shyly.

“You’re back together?”

“Yes, and we’re hiring a fulltime manager for the
store so I’ll have more time with the family and for my art. We’re even talking
about traveling to Australia together.”

“That is fantastic news, Belle. Congratulations.”

“Yeah. Levi said the same earlier this morning. Is
he okay?”

“I guess so. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know… He seemed kind of…weird… Maybe he was
distracted or something.”

“Maybe. I’ll go find out.”

Cara ended the call and smooched the cat, petting
and rubbing the feline with her hands and cheeks. “Awesome news, eh, Love Cat? For
Belle, but especially for us! We’d better tell Levi.”

The cat let out a plaintive meow that was more
hunger than agreement, so Cara scooted off the bed to fetch the animal a quick
breakfast before she set off to break the news. It was only as she slid past
the wardrobe that she noticed the shelves were empty. No neatly folded gray
shirts, no jeans, no duffle bag.

She glanced around. No medical bills on the table,
no laptop, no background radio…

Just a dirty coffee cup abandoned on the table like
a nasty full stop.

“He’s gone, Love Cat,” she told the animal, picking
it up and burrowing her face into its fur. “Levi’s gone.”

****

She found him walking to the silver Tacoma with his
bag and laptop case.

“You’re going?” she asked in disbelief.

“Have to,” he bit out tersely.

“But we need to talk.”

“I can give you thirty seconds.”

She’d heard this brusque, businesslike tone before—he’d
talked that way to Brian and occasionally to his workers—but she’d never been
on the receiving end of his harsh manner. And it stung.

“Generous,” she muttered sarcastically.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing.”

“Look, Cara, I’m sorry, but if you have something
to say, kindly spit it out. I’m in a hurry.”

She didn’t know whether she wanted to slap him or
burst into tears. Her emotions were already so unsteady they were making her
seasick—the news about the sapphire, his unscheduled departure, and now his
brash attitude… It was too much.

So, she did what she always did when she couldn’t
handle things and pushed all the angst and upset into a mental box and
slammed
the lid shut on it.

When she spoke, her words were
clipped, succinct. Her tone flat, factual.

“We really need to talk about the sapphire.”

“I’m a bit pushed for time, Cara,” he said, patting
his pocket for his keys and wallet. He was distant, distracted, as though he
was already somewhere else. “Besides, I think it’s a bit late for that
discussion.”

“Too late? But, listen, I suspect it’s been hiding
in plain sight all the time.”

“So I understand…” He didn’t even glance at her. He
seemed more interested in securing his luggage in the back than he was in her
news.

“You knew? You figured it out, too?”

“I have a flight to catch.”

She tried again.
 
“I thought you’d be excited. Bronte…”

Finally, he looked at her. His eyes were like grim,
icy stones—flat and opaque. His mouth was a harsh line and his whole bearing
was forbidding. “Bronte’s condition worsened last night. It looks like she’ll
need the surgery immediately.”