slid an arm around her shoulders and was guiding her back down the path as if the little interlude—the hug and possibly the almost kiss—had never happened. His voice was deep, and gentle, and understanding, and it made her want to cry, which was stupid as she had finished her crying a long time ago.
‘Yes,’ she finally agreed, hoping he hadn’t heard her sniff or swallow the lump that had lodged in her throat, ‘but I’m obviously not as back together as I thought I was. I’m sorry to have dumped all that on you. It just came flooding out.’
‘Better out than in,’ her companion said, and although the remark was beyond trite, Jo knew in this case it was certainly true. She felt a whole lot better—apart from feeling slightly weepy.
They drove home in silence, but as the security lights came on in the carport and Jo knew he’d see the tears she’d been surreptitiously wiping away on the drive, she apologised once again.
‘Think nothing of it,’ Cam told her. ‘Feel free to vent any time. In fact, I should give you fair warning that one day some of my baggage might come tumbling out. You were right in thinking I had stuff to drown during my surf odyssey.’
To Cam’s surprise Jo reached over and touched his arm.
‘I’m sure that stuff, or baggage as you call it, is far more valid than mine,’ she said softly. ‘To have seen young men killed and injured in war—to have to mend their bodies and hopefully help heal their minds—I can’t imagine the strength it must have taken.’
Cam covered her small hand with his large one, and felt the fragility of her bones beneath the warm skin.
Bird bones.
‘I don’t think you can rate the baggage we carry around with us,’ he told her. ‘I think we all have it and we have to deal with it in our own way, day by day, week by week. Then one day it’s not as heavy—at least, that’s what I’m expecting-hoping—and as I said, maybe sharing it.’
Could he do that? Share the images that flashed before his eyes? Talk about the horror of his nightmares?
The thought startled him so much he gave her fingers a squeeze and climbed out of the vehicle, anxious now to get away, even if his temporary sanctuary was covered in roses and he’d guessed who had used it originally so he felt even more uneasy about staying in the bower.
But what bothered him most was that he’d mentioned his baggage. He hadn’t talked to anyone about it—not his parents or any of his sisters, not even, really, his ex-fiancée, who had first labelled the mess in his mind.
Yet here he was warning Jo that he might dump some of it on her.
Not that he could.
Could he?
Headlights probed the sky as a vehicle came up the steep hill. Jo was still standing beside the driver’s door, and some instinct to protect, perhaps not her specifically but any smaller, weaker person, made Cam pause as the big car topped the rise and turned towards the house.
A police vehicle, not flashing red and blue lights but its markings made it unmistakeable. Cam felt the sinews tighten in his chest—police, ambulance, fire vehicles, as far as he was concerned, none of them boded good.
Jo watched Mike Fletcher climb out of his big, official vehicle and felt her stomach clench with anxiety. She was vaguely aware that Cam had moved closer to her, and her body’s reaction was enough to make her straighten up and stride away from him, crossing the carport to meet Mike.
‘Trouble?’ she asked, looking at the chunky, handsome man who’d become a good friend in the two years he’d been at the Cove.
‘Richard Trent,’ he said, and Jo’s clench of anxiety tightened.
‘Jackie and the kids?’ Jo demanded, and Mike put his hand on her shoulder.
‘No, they’re fine. Sorry to give you a fright, but Richard called in at the station to report them missing.’
‘Tonight? Just now?’
Mike nodded, then introduced himself to Cam, who’d closed in on her again.
Protective?
Jo concentrated on what Mike had come to tell her, about Richard Trent and his reaction in calling the police. Why would Richard have acted so swiftly—indoor cricket would have barely finished and surely calling the police would be a last resort?
‘Did he check with any friends or family first?’ she asked Mike. ‘Phone to see if they’d gone there? Not that they have, of course, they’re at the refuge—Lauren would have faxed you.’
Mike shook his head.
‘I couldn’t believe it when I read the fax and I still find it hard to believe. I mean, Richard’s the captain of our indoor cricket team and captain of one of the SES crews—that’s probably why he came to me, because he knows me—but Richard violent? Had he attacked her tonight?’
‘Abuse isn’t always violent, and though he might not have hit her before he left he’d waved his cricket bat at her and warned her he’d be home to deal with her later,’ Jo told him. ‘Something in his tone or maybe in whatever had transpired to anger him convinced Jackie that he meant it. She was terrified when we collected her.’
Realising that this conversation could more easily take place inside her house, she added, ‘Come on in,’ including Cam in the offer with a glance his way. She offered drinks that no one wanted and they settled down on the deck—the magical sheen of moonlight on the ocean making talk of violence seem unreal.
‘So, if he knows they’re in the refuge, why are you here, Mike?’
Cam asked the question and Mike frowned as if he was considering not answering—or maybe wondering what right Cam had to be asking it.
Jo stepped in, explaining Cam was coming to work for her and that he’d been with her when she’d driven Jackie to the refuge.
‘Staying here, is he?’ Mike asked.
‘In the flat,’ Jo explained, ‘but Cam’s right, are you worried about Richard’s reaction that you came up here? Was it to warn me he was angry about Jackie’s leaving? That I might be a target?’
Mike explained that as he’d never suspected Richard might be violent, he’d had no idea what the upset man might do and had thought it best to talk to Jo about it in person.
‘Cam’s suggested setting up a programme for men with abuse issues,’ she said. ‘Something that could be ongoing because, as we all know, physical and mental abuse is like substance abuse, it goes in cycles. So although the offender wants desperately to kick the habit, so to speak, it’s nearly impossible without strong, ongoing support.’
Cam didn’t expect Mike to greet this plan with overwhelming enthusiasm, but a nod of acceptance or a ‘Good idea, mate’ might have been appropriate. But maybe because he, Cam, was a stranger in town, Mike had a policeman’s natural suspicion of him.
Small towns sure were different from the city …
‘If you’re
