they reached the apartment Zoe realised her keys were in her purse. No problem—one phone call and Callie had the caretaker there, and he didn’t ask questions either. There was something about Callie that precluded questions.
Or argument. Zoe gave up, let herself be steered into the bathroom, stood for ten minutes under a steaming shower and emerged in her bathrobe, gloriously clean. Two plates of toast and eggs were on her kitchen counter with two steaming mugs of tea, and Callie was sitting over them looking as if this was completely normal, like they were flatmates and it was Callie’s turn to cook.
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ she said. ‘But I’m starving, and there’s nothing in my apartment. I was going to ring for pizza but you have enough to share.’
Zoe smiled and slid into a chair and thought she should protest but she was all protested out.
And the toast smelled great. She hadn’t realised she was hungry. They ate in what seemed companionable silence. Zoe cradled her tea, her world righted itself somehow and when finally Callie asked questions she was ready to answer.
‘How’s Bonnie?’ she asked first, and Zoe thought she was right in her surmise that Bonnie was a beloved presence in this hospital.
‘She has a fractured leg, now plated. Lots of lacerations and two broken ribs, but Doug—the vet—seems confident that she’ll be okay.’
‘Thank God for that,’ Callie said. ‘Half the hospital would break its collective heart if she died—not to mention our Sam. Those two are inseparable.’
‘He left her on the beach,’ Zoe said carefully, trying not to sound judgemental, ‘while he surfed. She was hit by a dune buggy.’
Callie closed her eyes. ‘Damn. But that beach is closed to anything but foot traffic.’
‘You know where we were?’
‘Sam always surfs at the Spit at the Seaway. The surf’s great, dogs are permitted off leash and it’s the safest place for Bonnie.’
‘He still shouldn’t have left her,’ Zoe said stubbornly, and Callie shrugged and started making more tea.
‘Okay, I’ll give you some back story,’ she said. ‘You need to get used to this hospital, by the way. Everyone knows everything about everybody. If you want things kept private, forget it. I don’t normally add to it, but tonight you’ve earned it. Bonnie was Sam’s fiancée’s dog. According to reports, Emily was wild, passionate and more than a little foolhardy. She surfed every night—they both did. With Bonnie. When Emily bought her as a pup Sam tried to talk her into exercising her and then leaving her in the car while they surfed, but Bonnie was Emily’s dog and Emily simply refused.
‘So now Bonnie’s in her declining years but what she loves most in the world is lying on the beach at dusk, waiting for Sam to come in. If Sam leaves her at home, or in the Jeep, she’ll howl until the world thinks she’s being massacred. For months she howled because she missed Emily and Sam decided he couldn’t take her beach away from her as well.’
‘So…what happened to Emily?’ Zoe asked.
‘Killed by carelessness,’ Callie retorted. ‘Not that Sam will admit it, but there it is. They went down to the beach to surf but the waves were dumpers, crashing too close to shore. Sam knew it, they both knew it, but Emily went out anyway. Word is that she simply did what she wanted. She was clever and bright and she twisted the world round her finger.
‘That night she and Sam had words. Sam took Bonnie for a walk along the beach to let off steam and Emily took her board out, got dumped and broke her neck. To this day Sam thinks he should have picked her up and carted her off the beach by force, but I guess it’s like telling Bonnie she can’t stay on the beach on her own. Immoveable object means unimaginable force. One of them has to give.’
‘Oh,’ Zoe said in a small voice, and Callie gave her a swift, appraising glance.
‘Let me guess—you gave Sam a lecture?’
‘I…might have.’
‘And that red mark on his face? The mark that looks suspiciously like finger marks?’
‘Oh…’ She felt herself blush from the toes up.
‘It’ll settle,’ Callie said, grinning widely. ‘They don’t usually bruise with the fingermarks still showing. And I promise I won’t tell.’
‘How do you know…about the fingermarks?’ Zoe managed, and Callie’s smile died. There was a moment’s awkward pause and then Callie seemed to relent. She shrugged.
‘I worked in a women’s refuge for a while,’ she said curtly in a voice that told Zoe not to go there. ‘I was getting over a mistake myself. But I wouldn’t worry. You saved Sam’s dog, and I suspect even if the world knew you’d hit him he’d consider it a small price. Do you want to sleep in tomorrow? I can alter your shifts.’
She was changing the subject, Zoe thought, steering away from the personal, and she thought there were things behind this woman’s competent facade…
As there were things behind Sam’s surfer image.
She should think about sleeping in. She tried for a whole two seconds, but the warmth, the food, the effects of the evening’s fright suddenly coalesced into one vast fog of weariness. It was like the blinds were coming down whether she willed them or not.
‘I’ll be fine for tomorrow,’ she managed. ‘But I do need to sleep.’
‘I’ll tuck you in,’ Callie said cheerfully. ‘Bedroom. Come.’
‘I don’t need tucking in,’ she said, affronted.
‘Remind me to ask when I want to know what you need,’ Callie retorted. ‘I’m thinking Sam Webster is going to ring me from the vet’s to find out how you are and I’m telling him I’ve tucked you into bed, whether you wanted it or not.’
By midnight Doug was sufficiently happy with Bonnie to order Sam home.
‘I’ll be checking on her hourly. I’ll sleep when I’m relieved in the morning but I suspect you have work tomorrow. Right? So, home. Bed.’
Bonnie was sleeping soundly, heavily sedated. Sam fondled her soft ears but she didn’t respond, too busy sleeping.
Doug was right.
He headed out to the car park. Doug had locked Zoe’s car but it still blocked the entrance.
He needed to retrieve her purse, and he might as well move it before handing the keys back to Doug.
It took him three minutes to get it started and Doug came out to help. They shifted it and then stood looking at it in disgust, not only because it was blood-soaked.
‘She’s driven that thing from Adelaide,’ Sam said at last. ‘How?’
‘Blind faith,’ Doug said. ‘Some wrecking yard must have paid her to cart it away.’
It was structurally sound, Sam thought, but only just. Once upon a time it
