Thin Blood Page 8

  After the initial shock, Craig looked almost relieved to see Brett. “Finally, someone who can give me some straight answers.” He thrust the newspaper at Brett. “Have you seen this? Your reporter…” his lip curled as he said the word, “…girlfriend is responsible for this.”

  Brett looked at Jacinta, one eyebrow lifting slightly. She couldn’t believe it. Her word evidently counted for nothing.

  Outraged, she had unlocked the door, preparing to face off against her critics.

  “I repeat; I am not in any way responsible for that article.”

  “And why should I believe the word of a liar?” Craig asked with more than a hint of smugness.

  Jacinta frowned.

  “That’s right, your secret’s out. You’re nothing but a fucking nosey reporter, happy to screw up other people’s lives for the sake of a story.”

  “It’s not like that. Please let me explain.” She glanced sideways, hoping Brett would come to her aid. “But not out here.” The neighbours had heard more than enough.

  For the second time that day, she was inviting an unknown quantity into her home. At least this time she had Brett on her side.

  Ironically, Craig chose the same seat that Grace had vacated only hours earlier. Declining Brett’s offer of a drink, he sat forward on the seat, arms crossed defensively over his chest.

  Brett had taken up position on one of the barstools, reminding Jacinta of a tennis umpire. She would have much preferred to have him sitting beside her, offering moral support and giving them at least some illusion of unity. Hiding her disappointment, she sat back in her seat, making a conscious effort to keep her body language as relaxed and open as possible.

  A sidelong glance from Brett warned her to be careful. Not that she needed warning. As far as Craig was concerned, Jacinta was the devil incarnate, out to destroy everything he held dear. She wasn’t completely without empathy. She could see how he might think that and she was the first to admit she wasn’t entirely guiltless.

  Her first mistake had been not listening to Brett when he pleaded with her to leave the story alone, but her biggest mistake — and the one she regretted the most — was entangling herself with Grace Kevron. The woman was plainly unbalanced. How else could her erratic and vindictive behaviour be explained?

  Jacinta glanced at the man opposite. Although his body remained rigid, his dark eyes betrayed him. In them, she saw a deep sadness. She found herself unexpectedly softening towards him, knowing then that underneath all the bluster existed a real man desperately trying to mask his true emotions. A real man trying to protect what was left of his life.

  “Craig, you’re right, I should have been straight with you and Narelle from the start. I used to be a reporter for a small regional newspaper called The Acacia Tribune, but I was retrenched last December.” She looked to Brett to back her up. He nodded. “I’ve done some freelancing since, but nothing major.” She paused, acutely aware that she could cause more harm than good by revealing too much. After all, there were different degrees of straight. “Um…”

  “Jacinta doesn’t freelance these days, though,” interjected Brett, on cue. “In fact, she had an interview today for a copywriter position.”

  Confusion clouded Craig’s face for a moment, the lines around his eyes deepening. “So what do you call this, then?” He tapped the newspaper article with his forefinger. “Just a figment of my imagination? I don’t care what you say — all I know is that from the day we met you, we’ve had nothing but trouble. I’m warning you, stay away from Narelle.”

  “Isn’t that up to Narelle to decide?” she snapped, his threat like a red rag. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Brett’s eyes widen. Ignoring the little voice in her head telling her to quit while she was ahead, she added, “She has a will of her own, you know!”

  Craig jumped to his feet, his voice hard and steely as he loomed over Jacinta. “What do you think she would say if she knew her new buddy had been deceiving her all along? Save yourself the hassle and leave her alone.”

  CHAPTER 20

  “Don’t you see? That’s what my stepfather did to my mother. Controlled her every move. Cut her off from her friends.” She grabbed at his hands and squeezed. “Craig’s doing the same thing to Narelle. You can’t honestly expect me to butt out, as you put it. What sort of friend would that make me?”

  Brett’s mind raced, working overtime to make sense of what Jacinta was saying. If she had a stepfather, this was the first he was hearing of it. And when had she and Narelle become such close friends that she was prepared to stand up to Craig Edmonds, a man who had been accused of murdering his wife? Certainly, life was never boring with Jacinta around. That much hadn’t changed.

  She stopped jabbering, her bottom lip quivering. Tears welled in her eyes as she released his hands and started to turn away. He caught her, pulling her in tight against his torso. She clung to him, silent sobs racking her body.

  He held her fast, feeling the warmth of her body, smelling her perfume. How wrong could he have been? It was madness to think he could ever stop loving Jacinta. Whatever her foibles, they were part of what made her the woman he loved. His mouth sought hers, the faint, sour taste of alcohol surprising him.

  Neither of them spoke, but somehow they ended up in the bedroom, the incident with Craig all but forgotten. Tearing at each other’s clothes, they fell onto the bed, a tangle of limbs. In seconds, both were naked.

  Digging her fingernails into his back, she locked her legs around his hips. Her aroused body moved with his, not staying still for a moment. He couldn’t get enough of her. Nor, it seemed, she of him.

  Later, he lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling, Jacinta’s head resting in the crook of his arm. Even though her breathing had slowed and her eyes were closed, he wondered if she might be feigning sleep. Had the sex, too, been a way of putting off answering the inevitable questions? No, he decided, that was my doing. He smiled to himself, remembering. Although he had only intended to console her, not race her off to bed, she had been no passive participant.

  Great sex aside, he had been rather taken aback by the mention of a stepfather. What stepfather? In the whole time they’d been together, Jacinta had not said one word about the man. He doubted it was something that could easily slip your mind, but on the other hand, whenever he asked about her past, she tended to be extremely evasive. All he knew was that Jacinta had never known her father, and that when she was fifteen, she and her mother had moved from Perth to Melbourne. Now that she had let that much slip, would she open up to him?

  Brett’s last thought before drifting into an endorphin-induced sleep was at least he understood what had prompted her antagonistic attitude toward Craig. He reminded her of her stepfather.

  CHAPTER 21

  Tuesday dawned overcast, the dark heavy clouds reflecting Jacinta’s mood. Monday had started badly with, first, her apparent sighting of her stepbrother, followed by Grace Kevron’s bizarre visit, and finally the confrontation with Craig Edmonds. But surely, Brett’s decision to move back in should have overridden all that. After all, wasn’t it what she wanted?

  She shoved aside the bedclothes, rolled on to her side and sat up, her legs dangling over the edge of the bed. No question, her feelings for Brett were as strong as they had ever been. However, she wasn’t certain of his feelings. The last thing she wanted was for him to stay with her out of pity or some sense of duty. Telling her he loved her in the afterglow of sex didn’t count.

  Yawning, she stood up and padded to the bathroom. A long, hot shower, followed by a breakfast of tea and toast, left her feeling almost human again.

  She was sipping her second cup of tea, thinking about the mess her life was in and indulging in a little self-pity, when the phone rang. Brett’s cheery ‘good morning’ lifted her spirits no end, allaying her fears that he had snuck away from the house that morning harbouring regrets. Dropping his voice to a low, sexy growl, he told her how much he wanted her. She laughed. Love or lust: right
at that moment it didn’t matter. Still smiling, she hung up.

  The doorbell rang and she skipped to answer it, half-expecting to see a grinning Brett, phone in hand. Who else would be calling at such an early hour? With a smile at the ready, she flung the door open. Her face dropped.

  Narelle stood forlornly on the doorstep, a tartan suitcase in one hand and a blue boxy toilet bag in the other. Her eyes, red and swollen shut, were no more than slits in her tear-stained face. Her brunette curls, tied back off her face, only accentuated her pallor. Without a word, Jacinta relieved Narelle of her suitcase and ushered her inside.

  “I’m so sorry,” blubbered Narelle. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

  “Don’t be silly,” said Jacinta, lugging the heavy suitcase into the hall. “I’m glad to help.” And she was genuinely pleased to see Narelle, but she could just imagine what Brett would say if he knew. Not to mention Craig. Did she have a death wish? Perhaps, but she couldn’t in all good conscience turn Narelle away. Part of it, she realised, was also fuelled, rightly or wrongly, by guilt. In her pursuit of a story, she hadn’t stopped to think of the possible consequences.

  Narelle was dressed unseasonably in jeans, black boots and a thick, woolly red jumper. It was a muggy day, the heavy cloud cover pushing up the humidity, yet Narelle, instead of sweating, was shivering.

  Jacinta collected a blanket from the linen cupboard in the hall, and took Narelle through to the living room, leaving the bags sitting on the hall floor. After settling Narelle on the sofa and swaddling her in the blanket, Jacinta excused herself.

  Minutes later, she returned carrying two mugs of steaming hot tea, the one she placed in front of Narelle loaded with sugar.

  Narelle’s teeth had stopped chattering, but the tremor in her hands was still evident. She paused for a moment, cradling the mug in both hands before slowly lifting it to her mouth. As she sipped the hot, sweet liquid, her eyes stayed downcast.

  Drinking her own tea, Jacinta bided her time, resisting the urge to ask what had happened. Don’t pressure her, she told herself. She’ll tell you in her own time. Peering over the rim of her cup, she studied Narelle. She had been crying. That much was obvious. From the little skin that was visible, there was no evidence of bruising. No black eyes. No split lip. Craig hadn’t beaten her up, then. Or at least not so it would show.

  Narelle lifted her eyes, a small, apologetic, almost sheepish smile forming on her lips as she met Jacinta’s watchful gaze. She set the mug of tea down. Her hands retreated under the blanket, leaving only her head exposed.

  “Are we alone?”

  Bemused by the odd question, Jacinta merely nodded.

  “I mean, Brett’s not asleep in the other room or anything like that, is he? I mean… Oh God, I shouldn’t be bothering you like this.” Narelle’s pale hands emerged from the blanket as she started to rise from the sofa.

  Jacinta patted the air. “Don’t go. Please stay. Honestly, it’s no bother at all. Brett’s at work. We have the house to ourselves.” She didn’t add that until the previous night, she had been alone in the house for the last week.

  Narelle hesitated slightly before sinking back down onto the sofa. The blanket that had slipped from her shoulders bunched behind her. She gulped air, evidently on the verge of tears. Her long fingernails tore at the backs of her hands, turning them into angry red welts.

  “These last few days,” she blurted, “I’ve felt like a prisoner in my own home. I don’t know what’s got into Craig. He’s become so paranoid. He’s convinced everyone is out to get him.” Pausing only long enough to take a breath, she continued her rapid-fire of words. “Jacinta, I so enjoyed the dinner party. I’d forgotten what it was like to socialise. But Craig… I don’t know, Craig thinks we should keep to ourselves. After everything that’s happened, he doesn’t trust anyone. I understand that, I really do, but we have to get on with the rest of our lives. Let go of the ghosts of the past…” Her voice petered out, her gaze dropping to her restless hands.

  Jacinta uncrossed her legs and leaned forward in her seat. Her problems had suddenly paled into insignificance. She couldn’t imagine living Narelle’s life: a reclusive and unsocial life devoid of any human relationships except that of her husband. Could love for a man make a woman blind?

  Narelle added in a soft whisper, “Craig insinuated that you had an ulterior motive for inviting us to dinner.”

  Jacinta swallowed hard, a hot flush enveloping her face.

  Narelle’s gaze remained fixed downwards. “It’s all right; I know you’re a reporter. Brett probably doesn’t remember, but ages ago, I asked him what you did for a living. When you invited us to dinner, I didn’t think it mattered. We all have a job to do.”

  Jacinta’s pulse quickened, her mind racing. Narelle had known she was a journalist, yet she had chosen to accept the dinner invitation. Brave, or just desperately lonely?

  “That doesn’t mean to say that I came to dinner unprepared. Over the years, I’ve learned the hard way how to circumvent the probing questions. I was pleasantly surprised when you didn’t pry. I left here so full of hope that the past was finally behind us.” She took a deep breath. “That is until things started happening. Then I didn’t know what to think.”

  Jacinta opened her mouth, hoping that by magic the right words would spring forth.

  Narelle continued, her voice remarkably calm. “All these years I’ve lived in hiding, too scared to face the world. I can’t live like this anymore. I don’t want to live like this anymore.” She touched her stomach with her fingertips. “I’ve given it a great deal of thought, and I’ve decided it’s time that my side of the story was told.”

  Both stunned and intrigued, Jacinta shuffled forward on her seat.

  “Craig and I are guilty of adultery, not murder. No one knows what happened to Kirsty, but I can’t believe that Craig is in any way responsible. In all the time I’ve known him, I have never seen him raise a finger to anyone, man or woman, in anger.” She closed her eyes, her hands pressed together in her lap. “You know, Jacinta, I really pray that the skeleton they found in the forest is Kirsty’s. Maybe then we’ll have some answers.” She shrugged her shoulders and opened her eyes. “And if not, at least we’ll be able to lay her to rest.”

  Jacinta cleared her throat. “But weren’t you adamant that the gold cross they found didn’t belong to Kirsty?”

  Narelle shrugged again. “It looked similar to hers, but I’ve only got my memory to go on and it’s been so long. At the time, denial seemed my best bet.”

  “And now?” prompted Jacinta.

  “Now, I want it all to be over with. I’m sick of living like a leper. I want a real life.”

  “Narelle, I hope you’re telling me this as a friend and not a reporter. I want you to know that whatever you tell me stays in this room.”

  The tiny lines around Narelle’s eyes deepened. “You mean off the record?”

  “No, as a friend. I’m not a reporter anymore. In fact,” Jacinta said, puffing out her chest and trying to add a little levity to the situation, “I hope you’re looking at Alvico Media’s next copywriter.”

  Narelle’s face brightened, her body visibly relaxing. “Really?”

  Not quite knowing which part Narelle was referring to, Jacinta nodded. Was she happy about the friend part, the not-being-a-reporter part, or the possibility that Jacinta had a new job?

  “You don’t know how relieved I am to hear that,” exclaimed Narelle, crossing her hands over her chest. “You have been so nice to me and I’d wondered if it was only because you were looking for a story.”

  For a fleeting moment, Jacinta debated whether to be brutally honest and confess that perhaps her original motivation had been journalistic, or just let it slide. Common sense told her it wouldn’t be in either of their interests to reveal what no longer mattered.

  “It’s times like this I wish I still smoked,” Narelle said, wringing her hands. “Oh God, I’m blathering on like an idiot again. I shou
ld go.”

  Once more, she started to stand and once more, Jacinta stalled her. Narelle obviously needed to talk to someone, and Jacinta wanted to help in any way she could. It took some doing, but eventually she convinced Narelle that she wasn’t being a nuisance, nor was she taking up valuable time.

  Narelle exhaled, her body deflating as the air left her lungs and her shoulders sagged. With her gaze focused on her knees, she began to talk.

  “It was just a fling, a stupid bloody fling. Neither of us meant it to happen. Sure, they had their ups and downs like every couple, but he loved her. God, if only we could have our time over again, it would be so different. What sort of woman falls for her own sister’s husband?”

  Not waiting for an answer, Narelle spoke quickly, the pitch of her voice rising and falling as she relived the emotional roller coaster of her past.

  “I can’t even remember how it all started. But it all came to a head after one of Kirsty’s nursing conferences.” Narelle sighed. “She was away a lot. Anyway, she must have got wind that all wasn’t as it should be with Craig. Although at that stage she didn’t suspect her own sister of being the other woman. Who would? He denied it, of course.”

  Jacinta listened in astonishment to the impassioned outpouring, trying to absorb the increasingly disjointed words. After years of bottling everything up, Narelle was finally letting go.

  “Craig and I decided it couldn’t go on. For the sake of his marriage and my sister, we had to end it. And we did – for about a month. We thought if we kept our affair secret, no one would get hurt.” Tears ran unchecked down Narelle’s face. “I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I couldn’t stop. She was so devastated when she found out. She hated me, I hated me.”

  Jacinta reached around the arm of the sofa, and opened the small drawer in the side table, feeling for the box of tissues she thought was there. She found it and slid it across the coffee table. Narelle leaned forward and plucked out a handful of tissues. Her words continued uninterrupted with only a few lost in the wad of tissues mopping her face.