Banksia Bay. Marion Lennox

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Banksia Bay - Marion Lennox Mills & Boon Cherish

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had had the strength to defend herself, to ride out community criticism, then maybe it would have been different but she’d been an easy target. The family had been an easy target.

      Raff, though … He had defended himself. He’d come back here after the accident, he’d made a home for Sarah, he’d looked on community disdain with indifference.

      Did it hurt?

      It wasn’t anything to do with her, she thought, but, as they pulled up outside Louise Fryer’s, she watched the middle-aged matron greet Raff with only the barest degree of civility. It must still hurt.

      After the accident … There’d been no trial.

      She remembered the investigators talking to her parents. There’d been insufficient evidence to charge him.

      ‘Is Raff denying it?’ That had been Abby, whispering from the background. She barely remembered those appalling days after the crash but she did remember that. She did remember asking. ‘What does Raff say?’

      ‘He can’t remember a thing,’ the investigator told her. ‘His blood alcohol’s come back zero and frankly that’s a surprise. He was just a stupid kid doing stupid things.’

      ‘Our Ben wasn’t stupid,’ her mother said hotly.

      ‘Led astray, more like,’ the investigator said and the fair part of Abby, the reasonable part, thought no, Ben hadn’t been wearing his seat belt. It wasn’t all Raff’s fault.

      He’d been stupid. He had been on the wrong side of the dirt road and he’d been speeding.

      He’d killed Ben and injured his sister.

      Maybe that was enough punishment for anyone. The authorities seemed to think so. Even though her parents wanted him thrown in jail, it had simply been left as an accident.

      Raff had come back as the town cop, he’d cared for his sister and he’d worked hard to rid himself of that bad boy reputation. For the most part he now had community respect, but there were those—her parents’ friends … people with long memories … He was still condemned.

      Louise Fryer, coming out now with her mouth pursed into a look of dislike, was one of the more vocal of the condemners.

      ‘Haven’t you found her yet?’ Her voice was an accusation. ‘I’ve had five phone calls. People have seen her. Don’t you know how valuable she is?’

      Abby was trying to untangle leads to get out of the car.

      ‘You don’t care,’ Mrs Fryer said. ‘We need a decent police presence in this … Oh …’

      For, finally, Abby was out. She set Fluff Ball on the ground. Fluff Ball headed over to Mrs Fryer.

      But … Uh-oh. Kleppy was out of the car and after his prize. He grabbed the lead and Fluff Ball stopped in her tracks.

      Fluff Ball looked at Mrs Fryer, then looked at Kleppy. She wagged her pompom and proceeded to check out Kleppy’s rear.

      ‘She’ll catch something … Get it away …’ Louise was practically screeching.

      Abby sighed. She picked up both dogs and tucked them firmly under her arms. ‘Thank you, Kleppy, but no,’ she said severely. She took the lead from Kleppy and handed over Fluff Ball.

      And finally Mrs Fryer realised who she was. ‘Abigail!’

      ‘Hi, Mrs Fryer.’

      ‘What are you doing here?’

      ‘My dog stole your dog.’

      ‘Your dog?’ Louise’s eyes were almost popping out of her head. ‘That’s never your dog.’

      ‘He is. His name’s Kleppy. He’s lovely but I’ve only had him for a day so he’s not exactly well trained. But he will be.’ Just as soon as she installed fences down to bedrock.

      ‘Has this man foisted him onto you?’ Her glare at Raff was poisonous.

      ‘No.’ Not exactly. Or actually … yes. But that was what the woman was expecting her to say, she thought. Raff Finn—town’s bad boy. One of those Finns.

      Capable of anything.

      Which was what she thought, too, she reminded herself, so why was she standing here figuring out how to defend him?

      ‘He didn’t foist …’ she started.

      ‘Yes, I did,’ Raff said before she could get any further. ‘Have you forgotten already? I definitely foisted. And that’s exactly what you’d expect of someone like me, isn’t it, Mrs Fryer? And here I am, messing up your front garden. But it’s okay. Your dog’s been restored. Justice has been done so I can step out of your life again. If you’ll excuse me … Abby, when Mrs Fryer’s given you a nice cup of tea so you can both recover from your

      Very Nasty Experience, could you walk back to court yourself, do you think?’

      I …’ She stared at him, speechless. He gave her his very blandest smile.

      ‘I bet Louise wants to hear all about the wedding preparations. She’ll be invited, though, won’t she?’

      ‘Yes,’ Louise said, a bit confused but mostly belligerent. Her dislike for Raff was unmistakable. ‘Of course I am. I’m a friend of dear Philip’s mother.’

      ‘There you are; you’re practically family.’ Raff’s gaze met hers and there was laughter behind his eyes—pure trouble. ‘All it takes for you to be friends for life is for your two dogs to bond, which they’re doing already. Me, I have other stuff to do. Murderers and rapists to chase.’

      ‘Or the police station lawn to mow,’ Abby snapped and then wished she hadn’t.

      ‘I was just saying that to Philip’s mother the other night,’ Louise said. ‘Old Sergeant Troy used to keep the Station really nice.’

      ‘Yeah, but he wasn’t a Finn,’ Raff said. ‘The place has gone to hell in a handbasket since I arrived. Did you think of the lawn yourself, Abigail, or did Philip mention it? A tidy man, our Philip. But enough. Murderers, rapists—and lawn!’ He sighed. ‘A policeman’s lot is indeed a tough one. See you ladies later. Have a nice cup of tea.’

      He turned and walked away. Louise put her hand on Abby’s arm, holding her back.

      The toad. Raff Finn knew she wouldn’t be able to get away from here for an hour.

      ‘Make sure you plant some petunias when you’re finished,’ Abby called after him. ‘It’d be a pity if we saw our police force bored.’

      ‘Petunias it is,’ he said and gave her an airy wave. ‘Consider them planted. In between thefts. How long till the next snatch and grab?’ He shook his head. ‘Keep off the streets, Abigail, and keep a tight hold on that felon of yours. Next time, I might have to put you up for a community corrections order. The pair of you might find yourself planting my petunias for me.’

      Конец

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