Constable Rhys Morton brushed the sweat from his forehead and swallowed, silently cursing the struggling air conditioner’s pathetic attempt to cope with the thirty-eight-degree heat of Queensland’s mid-summer. Folding his long legs under the chair, he stared at the heavy, wood-panelled door.
Why had he been called in to the inspector’s office? He’d submitted a written report on his investigation into the run of car thefts the previous week. Was this summons to do with his conduct during that investigation? Had he done something wrong? Overstepped his authority, perhaps? Or had someone made a complaint about him? Some of the other officers could be like that—their enthusiasm often mixed with a desperation to be noticed ... and promoted. Rhys himself was the opposite—introverted, diligent and, to his own detriment at times, brutally honest.
The door burst open and he jumped to his feet, meeting the faded, grey eyes hooded by bushy eyebrows of Inspector Jones.
‘Good morning’. The older man’s chin wobbled as he spoke, a smile deepening the creases on his face. ‘Come in, Rhys. Take a seat.’
After striding into the office and lowering his lanky frame onto the chair, Rhys leaned forward slightly, fingers knotted together under the smooth, laminated desk.
The inspector cleared his throat and met the young constable’s curious gaze. ‘You’re probably wondering why I’ve called you in to see me.’
Rhys remained impassive, giving the barest hint of a nod.
‘I won’t keep you in suspense. You’ve been at the Warwick Station for four years now and I’ve noted your performance has been quite exceptional.’
Rhys blinked at the unexpected compliment as the inspector rattled on.
‘You’ve qualified for the rank of Senior Constable ... and we have a situation at the moment which has required some considerable thought.’ Jones paused to consider him. ‘Do you know Stan Brennan at Featherwood Falls Police Station?’
The older man’s formal manner and speech drifted over Rhys’s head while he searched the recesses of his memory. ‘Yes,’ he finally replied. ‘Brennan was sworn in at the same time as my father. I don’t think they were friends, but they knew each other.’
The inspector nodded. ‘Right. Well, he’s had a heart attack and is in hospital.’
‘Sorry to hear that,’ Rhys said gravely.
‘Hmm. Don’t think he’ll be returning from what I’ve been told.’ Inspector Jones stopped, withdrew a handkerchief, and mopped his brow.
Rhys took a few pulse-slowing breaths while he waited for the inspector to continue.
‘You would know we’ve had a recent attempted murder at Featherwood Falls. The investigation is ongoing, leaving us with a problem.’ He cleared his throat and tapped his fingers on the leather desk pad. ‘How would you feel about relieving as officer in charge at the station until Stan’s return?’
‘Me?’ Rhys straightened his back, his stunned gaze meeting the inspector’s.
‘Yes. You.’ The inspector’s mouth widened slightly, a smile tugging at his lips. He picked up a pen and held it poised above a document on the desk. ‘You don’t have to decide now. Think about it overnight if you like and let me know in the morning.’
Excitement burned through Rhys. It was his dream to be stationed in a small country town—an experience his father had often spoken wistfully. Rhys barely remembered the early days of their life in the Brisbane Valley. He had been five when his father was promoted to Stanthorpe, and he loved growing up there—playing sport, hiking in the National Park, and especially mucking around with his sister and parents on their hobby farm outside town. Featherwood Falls was one of the few one-officer stations in his favourite part of Queensland and, without another thought, he pushed his chair back and rose to his size-eleven feet. ‘I don’t need to think about it overnight. I’d love to give it a go … sir.’
The inspector gave an approving nod. ‘Good. I’ll complete the paperwork and let District Office know.’ He wrote on the document in front of him before turning it around for Rhys to read. ‘Sign here.’ While Rhys glanced over the form and signed the bottom, the inspector continued, ‘You’re now in charge of Featherwood Falls Police Station—for the foreseeable future, and we need you there as soon as possible. Besides community policing, you’ll be catching up on a good deal of paperwork.’ He drew a noisy breath and added, ‘Stan Brennan was … a little behind with reports and correspondence.’
Rhys noted the creased forehead on the older man.
‘I realise you’re only twenty-seven, but you’ve proved yourself to be more than capable and, if you’re anything like your father, I have every faith in your competence.’
Letting out a silent breath, Rhys felt his heart dance in his chest. ‘Thank you. I appreciate the opportunity and the chance to return to that part of the world.’
The inspector straightened, his stocky build still barely reaching Rhys’s chin. ‘Say gidday to your dad from me.’
Rhys smiled, his excitement obvious. ‘I will. I’ll be seeing them this weekend. They’re not fond of town living—prefer their rural haven and don’t come in unless they have to.’
‘Huh. I’m with them. Roll on retirement so I can go somewhere quiet where the fishing’s good.’ They moved toward the door and the inspector held his hand out.
After quickly running his sweaty palm down his trousers, Rhys took it.
‘Congratulations, Acting Senior Constable Morton—and good luck.’
Rhys nodded before turning away and striding back to his desk.
A smile crept across his face before fading quickly as his thoughts raced. His heart skipped a beat.
What will Evie say?
***
She was sitting on a bench under the shade of a tree, watching him approach. A shiver of apprehension gripped him, and he steeled himself. Slim and attractive, her dark hair hung over her shoulders in a glossy tumble. No-one had been more surprised than Rhys when twelve months before, Evie Thurgood, the most beautiful young woman he had ever seen, asked him for a date at a friend’s birthday party. She could have invited any of the young, single men. But she’d chosen him—despite his over-large nose and floppy brown hair that never did as it was supposed to. He had been flattered. Trouble was, with her love of fine dining, movies and fashion, there was a limit to mutually agreeable places to be together, and the gap between them was widening. He’d taken on extra duties at work, unable to refuse his superiors, and loved nothing more than escaping before dawn on his days off to bush walk and forget about the scenes and events that occurred in his occupation. Evie didn’t like that at all, and he ached with desperation for her understanding. He caught his breath to quell the butterflies in his stomach.
Smiling at him, she lifted her face to be kissed and patted the seat beside her. ‘I’ve got a salad here for you—and a fresh fruit smoothie.’
He took the food from her perfectly manicured fingertips, grateful but wishing it were coffee and a meat pie instead. Slumping onto the bench, he stared at the children playing on the swings a short distance away, reluctant to face her.
Evie appeared not to notice, and he munched his salad without saying a word. While she waffled on about the new outfit she’d bought for a girlfriend’s hen’s party the following weekend and the demands her boss was putting on her to shorten her tea breaks and limit her personal phone calls, Rhys let his mind wander.
‘Are you listening to me?’
His attention snapped back, startled by her flashing sapphire-coloured eyes, accentuated by the impossibly long eyelashes glued to her lids. Evie continued, seemingly without taking a breath. ‘I mean, how dare he? I’m entitled to a fifteen-minute break for morning and afternoon tea, as well as my lunch break. And I can’t help it if my friends need to tell me something important while I’m at work.’
Her petulant voice droned on while Rhys finished the smoothie. He stirred the crushed ice in the cup’s bottom and braced himself. ‘They have offered me a promotion. I’m leaving town—for a while, anyway.’
Evie stopped mid-sentence and stared at him. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘The officer in charge of the Featherwood Falls Police Station is in hospital, and they have selected me for the relieving position—if I want it.’
She snorted. ‘I hope you refused.’
He raised his eyebrows, crossing his arms in defiance. ‘No, I didn’t.’
An icy change paralysed him as he waited for her outburst. When it didn’t come, he took a sideways glance at her. A smirk hovered around her mouth, freezing him to the core. She turned away.
Eventually, she spoke, her tone brittle. ‘Well, that’s solved one problem.’
Rhys frowned, shaking his head. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re not the only man in town who wants to be with me. I’ve met someone much more considerate.’ Jumping to her feet, she took a few steps, halted, and turned to face him, pursing her bright red lips. ‘Have a good life. I certainly will!’
His jaw dropped. Really? Just like that. Was I nothing more than a convenience?
She strode off.
Guilt sank like a stone in his belly. Dropping his head into his hands, he ran his fingers through his hair.
Seconds later, he lifted his gaze, catching the flash of a tight skirt and ridiculously high heels tottering around the corner.
Numb with shock, his gaze swung slowly back to the gracious sandstone police station over the road. It was barely visible behind the row of police vehicles, and a laugh rang out as a group of teenagers walking past flicked cigarette butts toward the building.
His mind cleared, and he let out a long sigh. Pushing himself to his feet, he shook his head.
Yep. Made the right decision. Time to move on—the last thing I need is a girlfriend.
