jerked, and something inside her grew warm and gentle at his fierce, giving honesty. "You survived prison," she said softly . "You went through that for me, believing I betrayed you, and still came to save me. You're better than that, too."
He gave her a slow, lopsided grin. "Dam it, Tess, how do you do that? Every time you show up in my life you change it—change me— inseconds."
"Like Nagasaki or Hiroshima ," she retorted.
"I was talking about you, not your father, your brother or Beller. You're not responsible for what they do. Not to you, to me, or anyone else. Only they can take the rap for that."
Her heart shut down. She blinked hard and fast, feeling like a sleepwalker coming awake to a bizarre landscape she couldn't awake from. In just two days, her whole existence had become a lie, and she didn't know how else to cope with it than in anger. "If you say so," she muttered, trying not to cry. "You appear to be the expert on who's to blame for what in my family life."
He shrugged, and switched on the radio to the only station in the vicinity, a country music station, and sang Troy Cassar-Daly's latest ballad in his warm voice.
They bought another car at Dubbo, three hundred miles northwest of Sydney , and dumped Tessa's van on a graveled dirt track northeast of the town. They bought clothes, stored them in the back of the battered green four-wheel-drive, and they continued via little-used back roads for the northern route toward Sydney .
Toward Burragawang Community Hospital , and the first step in unraveling the truth from the tangled web of lies her family had woven around her life.
----
Chapter 8
« ^ »
A bundled-up blanket of darkness lay all around, still and quiet. The only sound was a rustling whisper of gum leaves from the tiny breeze filtering through the trees above; the only scent a vague tang of crushed eucalyptus leaves drifting up from the loamy forest floor.
In a lonely highland hideaway northeast of Dubbo off the road to Burragawang, Tessa lay in the cool soft darkness, her ears straining for any unnatural sound, but heard only the thundering of her heart and the whirling of her fears in her mind.
Jirrah was right. Northeast was the least likely way for them to go. As a precaution, he'd covered the bumpy mountain track with a fall of rocks after they'd passed the entrance, and even brushed away the tire tracks from the main road at the turnoff.
But she'd lived with the need to run for so long it was almost a friend. She didn't know how to live without looking over her shoulder for Cameron's Lucifer-like face: so beautiful, hiding a vile heart beneath. She didn't know how to stop mourning for the innocent, loving girl she used to be before he touched her—
A rustling sound came from just outside the car. Pulling the gun from beneath her pillow she scrambled up from the middle seat of the van, tense, silent, waiting.
Jirrah's half-alert mumble from the back seat startled her. "What is it?"
"I don't know," she whispered, holding the gun aimed at the bush beside the driver's seat with hands that shook. "There was a rustling in the scrub there."
"We're in the bush, Tess." He yawned. "It's probably some animal checking us out for food."
"And it might not be. If you want to take chances with your life, fine. I'm going to protect myself until I've found Emily!"
"Mulgu, you've been on the run too long," he said quietly, totally awake now. "Beller can't possibly know where we are."
"That's what you said about your house. Now it's in ashes." And still she watched the dark shadow of the bush, holding the gun in a death grip.
"You can't keep doing this," he said softly. "Using a gun as a security blanket's as likely to get you killed as him."
"You want to judge my life, walk a mile in my moccasins," she shot back, her voice barely audible. "Hasn't losing your car, your house and your life taught you anything yet? Cameron is crazy when it comes to me, and his social standing. If he finds us
He gave her a slow, lopsided grin. "Dam it, Tess, how do you do that? Every time you show up in my life you change it—change me— inseconds."
"Like Nagasaki or Hiroshima ," she retorted.
"I was talking about you, not your father, your brother or Beller. You're not responsible for what they do. Not to you, to me, or anyone else. Only they can take the rap for that."
Her heart shut down. She blinked hard and fast, feeling like a sleepwalker coming awake to a bizarre landscape she couldn't awake from. In just two days, her whole existence had become a lie, and she didn't know how else to cope with it than in anger. "If you say so," she muttered, trying not to cry. "You appear to be the expert on who's to blame for what in my family life."
He shrugged, and switched on the radio to the only station in the vicinity, a country music station, and sang Troy Cassar-Daly's latest ballad in his warm voice.
They bought another car at Dubbo, three hundred miles northwest of Sydney , and dumped Tessa's van on a graveled dirt track northeast of the town. They bought clothes, stored them in the back of the battered green four-wheel-drive, and they continued via little-used back roads for the northern route toward Sydney .
Toward Burragawang Community Hospital , and the first step in unraveling the truth from the tangled web of lies her family had woven around her life.
----
Chapter 8
« ^ »
A bundled-up blanket of darkness lay all around, still and quiet. The only sound was a rustling whisper of gum leaves from the tiny breeze filtering through the trees above; the only scent a vague tang of crushed eucalyptus leaves drifting up from the loamy forest floor.
In a lonely highland hideaway northeast of Dubbo off the road to Burragawang, Tessa lay in the cool soft darkness, her ears straining for any unnatural sound, but heard only the thundering of her heart and the whirling of her fears in her mind.
Jirrah was right. Northeast was the least likely way for them to go. As a precaution, he'd covered the bumpy mountain track with a fall of rocks after they'd passed the entrance, and even brushed away the tire tracks from the main road at the turnoff.
But she'd lived with the need to run for so long it was almost a friend. She didn't know how to live without looking over her shoulder for Cameron's Lucifer-like face: so beautiful, hiding a vile heart beneath. She didn't know how to stop mourning for the innocent, loving girl she used to be before he touched her—
A rustling sound came from just outside the car. Pulling the gun from beneath her pillow she scrambled up from the middle seat of the van, tense, silent, waiting.
Jirrah's half-alert mumble from the back seat startled her. "What is it?"
"I don't know," she whispered, holding the gun aimed at the bush beside the driver's seat with hands that shook. "There was a rustling in the scrub there."
"We're in the bush, Tess." He yawned. "It's probably some animal checking us out for food."
"And it might not be. If you want to take chances with your life, fine. I'm going to protect myself until I've found Emily!"
"Mulgu, you've been on the run too long," he said quietly, totally awake now. "Beller can't possibly know where we are."
"That's what you said about your house. Now it's in ashes." And still she watched the dark shadow of the bush, holding the gun in a death grip.
"You can't keep doing this," he said softly. "Using a gun as a security blanket's as likely to get you killed as him."
"You want to judge my life, walk a mile in my moccasins," she shot back, her voice barely audible. "Hasn't losing your car, your house and your life taught you anything yet? Cameron is crazy when it comes to me, and his social standing. If he finds us
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