held up his hand. ‘All right, pet, I get the message.’ He stared at Fliss through the gloom of the unlit room. ‘But there’s no way I’m going to let you go by yourself. I’m coming with you.’
An eighty-six-year-old with one arm and heart failure as her protector? Fliss almost smiled but had to blink back tears instead. This old man really cared about her safety and she’d almost forgotten what it was like to have someone really care about her. Maybe she couldn’t have the man she really needed by her side right now but Jack was better than nothing. A whole lot better than nothing.
‘Let’s go, then,’ Fliss urged. Now, she added silently, while she had enough courage gathered to turn her back on personal safety.
‘Wait.’ Jack scratched his beard thoughtfully. ‘You can’t go outside like that.’
‘Like what?’
‘All white and…kind of glowing. That pretty hair of yours would catch anybody’s eye.’
Fliss did smile now. ‘Is that a compliment, Jack? Why, thank you!’
Jack made a dismissive growling sound. ‘If you’re mad enough to want to go out there I can’t stop you, but you need to cover up. I’ve got a black hat somewhere. And maybe a jersey or two.’
‘You’ll need a hat yourself. Your hair’s paler than mine.’
‘What’s left of it.’ Jack ran his hand over his balding scalp. Then he smiled at Fliss. ‘Guess I’ve compensated by growing fluff on my chin instead, haven’t I?’ He didn’t wait for a response. ‘I’ve got some old fishing gear out the back. I’ll see what I can find.’
‘Have you taken that pill yet?’
‘Yes.’
‘And the spray?’
Grumbling, Jack reached for the small red GTN cannister. ‘Bossy, aren’t you?’
‘I can be.’ Fliss nodded. ‘But only when I care about what happens to the people I’m bossing.’
She should use any skills in that department to try and make her patient heed police advice and stay in his own home, Fliss decided in Jack’s absence. Justifying the danger he was prepared to face with the rationale that she would be able to take better care of his current condition by having him with her at the surgery wasn’t good enough.
When Jack returned with an armload of dark clothing, Fliss was ready with her sternest tone.
‘I can go by myself, Jack. I’d much rather you stayed here.’
‘Not on your nelly.’ Jack sounded affronted. ‘I’ll make my own decisions about some things, missy. You can’t always get what you want by being bossy, you know.’
Too true.
Jack’s reprimand hit a nerve. Angus had considered Fliss to be bossy as well. Stubborn. Uncompromising. The expression ‘control freak’ had surfaced more than once in the escalating arguments that had marred their last few weeks together.
Did she try and use a position of authority for selfish motives? Had her bossiness really been due to the degree to which she had cared about Angus or had she been more concerned about her personal welfare? Getting what she wanted? Had her training as a doctor, in fact, given her a mistaken belief that she could make choices for others that went beyond medical assistance?
Fliss was silent, mulling over what she suspected might be an unpleasant home truth as she pulled on a well-worn woollen pullover in a navy-blue fisherman’s rib. Jack was struggling into a similar garment and he rolled up the surplus sleeve and tucked it inside the armhole.
‘Blessed nuisance, having two sleeves on everything,’ he muttered. ‘Nobody caters for the minorities.’
Fliss smiled briefly at the joke as she took the black knitted beanie Jack handed her. These clothes had to be more than thirty years old—relics from Jack’s career as a fisherman—and she could almost smell salt-laden air and the tang of fish.
Jack scrutinised the finished result but shook his head sadly. ‘It’s no good,’ he announced.
‘Why not?’ Fliss jammed the last strands of her shoulder-length, wavy hair under the hat. Then she rolled up the sleeves of the oversized jersey so that her hands were free. ‘I think it’s great. We’re both going to be hard to see if we stick to the shadows.’
‘Your face is too pale. Let me think…’ Jack actually seemed to be enjoying himself, Fliss realised with astonishment. His breathing sounded less laboured and he moved more quickly than she had ever seen him when he turned and headed for his pantry. ‘I’ve got just the thing,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘You wait right here.’
Fliss peered at the small, round tin in his hand when he reappeared moments later.
‘Boot polish?’
‘Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. It’s what those top-notch police fellows use when they go out on dangerous missions.’
‘They don’t use boot polish, Jack.’
‘How would you know?’
‘Because I just do. I…used to know some of those police fellows.’
‘Hmmph.’ Jack held out the tin. ‘Same difference, in any case. Take the lid off this so I can smear a bit on your face.’
Fliss couldn’t resist muttering something about her not being the only bossy one but then she stood still as Jack wiped polish on her face. She returned the favour, blackening Jack’s beard as well as his cheeks. The task suddenly struck her as being ridiculous. Here they were, dressing up like small boys preparing to go and play some kind of war game. What would Angus say if he could see her now?
He’d probably laugh. And say something like ‘Can’t beat ’em so you’re going to join ’em, huh? Cool. Come out and play with us, then.’
Except this wasn’t any kind of a game. It was real.
And deadly.
And Angus, if he was in any way involved tonight, would be even more effectively camouflaged. And Fliss could be quite certain that he wouldn’t be laughing.
‘We’ll go out the back way,’ Jack decided. ‘If we go to the top of the hill and then cut back through the Bennies’ orchard, go through the back of the cemetery and then over the Carsons’ fence, we’ll be just about at your place.’
‘But if we go that way, we won’t go past the Treffers’ place. I need to know whether it’s Callum or Cody under that bush, Jack. And whether they’re OK.’
Jack shook his head. ‘It’s too exposed. Too risky. If we go my way, we’ve got more chance of staying hidden.’
By tacit consent, they both edged towards the glass doors to see if staring into the dark street could help finalise their plan of action.
‘Look.’ For the second time that evening, Fliss pointed towards the river
