Crystal Coffin by Anita Bell Page A

gagged on the taste after the chocolate bar. She sniffed the fluid and wrinkled her nose. The last mouthful smelled like five-day-old sweat and tasted even older, but it felt good going down and she drank it, then tossed the empty canteen at his chest. ‘If you’d have sent me that foul poison two days ago, you could have saved me the trouble.’
    â€˜You hurt yourself? ’
    â€˜Price of freedom,’ she said. ‘Nothing you have to worry about.’
    Locklin doubted that. In front of him stood a girl who wore a charm around her neck that matched a set of earrings he’d found in the boathouse where his father had been murdered. She had the same last name as the corporation that employed his killer — and trouble always travelled in threes.

The dog touched Nikki’s hand with its annoying wet nose again and she jumped. She hunted it away and looked at the horses standing patiently in the truck.
    Nice horses, she wanted to say, but she didn’t. ‘Were you looking through my bags?’ she said instead, wondering what else he could have been doing in the back of the truck while he thought she was still put.
    â€˜Only looking to see if you were taking anything’, he lied. But he hadn’t found any ID either, which he thought was strange. Not even in her wallet, where the only thing she had was seven dollars in loose change and a train ticket, paid for in cash from Sydney to Brisbane.
    â€˜I’m not on drugs!’ she said, screwing up her nose.
    â€˜I meant medication,’ he said, still fishing for information. ‘I was going to call a doctor, and I knew that would be the first question he asked.’
    â€˜I told you, no doctors,’ she said, not realising that her wishes had never made it past her lips. Doctors meant records and records meant someone could find her and that’s all she was worried about now.
    â€˜I’m not going to argue,’ he said. ‘Time to go.’
    He opened her door, motioning for her to get in, but she didn’t budge.
    â€˜I can’t go like this,’ she said, holding up the remnants of her sleeves.
    â€˜You’d rather stay here?’.
    â€˜I’d rather die than show up looking like a two dollar hooker. I’ll get the sack before I start.’
    Locklin’s eyebrows pointed to the sky. With a name like Fletcher, he’d expected her to be the one with the power to hire and fire. ‘Thorna’s not like that,’ he said, playing her game. ‘She’ll understand.’
    â€˜You don’t get it. Look at me! The Maitlands have little kids. Would you let something like this,’ she said, meaning herself, ‘get near your kids?’
    â€˜I guess not,’ he said, surprised by her priorities. And she was right. She looked like something that Jack was doing in the back of the truck right now.
    The tallest tree on the horizon began to tickle the sun and he checked his watch. No need to rush her, though. He didn’t have to meet Helen and Scotty for another five hours.
    Locklin went to the truck and dragged her bags closer to the rails so she could reach into them.
    â€˜Careful, Tucker,’ he said, helping the dog up into the crate again. ‘She bites.’
    Tuckerbox didn’t listen. His wet nose helped her choose a new shirt, but as soon as she pulled it out, Locklin saw the long sleeves and snatched it off her.
    â€˜Hey, give me that!’ she said.
    â€˜You want to be doing this again in five minutes?’ he said, holding out a thick polyester sleeve that wouldn’t breathe.
    â€˜But it’s all I’ve got.’
    â€˜Then roll the sleeves up.’
    â€˜No! People will see.’
    â€˜I saw.’
    â€˜Yes, and that’s bad enough!’
    Locklin put his hands on his hips, letting his frown ask if she was going to argue all day. ‘They won’t heal in this heat unless you let air get to them,’ he tried to