‘I actually am, yes.’

‘Fine, it’ll be my pleasure to get out of this shithole.’ She ripped off her apron and threw it across the room, then stormed past him, grabbed her handbag from the hook and turned back to face him, her gaze fierce. ‘I know there’s nobody else willing to take on this job, so good luck managing all of this on your own.’ She flapped her arms around, jangling her bangles again, then in a flurry of swear words, stomped out the back door of the kitchen.

One of the two waitresses stood in the doorway, a pile of dirty plates in her hands. ‘Blimey, that was hectic.’ Jenny’s smile spread. ‘But hallelujah she’s gone.’ Waltzing over to the sink, she plonked the plates down. ‘My sister is going to be well pleased we don’t have to work with her anymore.’ Rinsing the dishes, she glanced over her shoulder. ‘That Jasmine is a right cow.’

Jarrah had to agree. He almost fell to his knees and thanked god she was gone. But then he looked left to right, spotted the line of orders hanging from the serving window, and sighed. He needed to take over the reins in here, get the orders done as best he could with the food he had, and then tomorrow he was going to have to try and find another cook, one that could serve food he was proud of. Lord only knew where he was going to pluck one from at the very last minute. But he could only try his best. Catching sight of Tommy, out the front of house, glaring at him from his station at the coffee counter, he groaned. That was a conversation, or disagreement, they’d be having later, and not within the hearing of the diners.

***

Looking to the faded photograph of her and her father that she’d placed strategically on her dashboard, while the letter was tucked up nice and safe beneath her seat, Millie swallowed down a lump of emotion. Her tears had all but dried up when it came to the unfathomable grief that came with losing both of her parents and her little brother, but the resounding heartbreak remained as strong as it had ever been. It was a harsh slap in the face to know that some sick individual had carried this photo around for all these years, when for her, all the memories up until this point were the ones she held dear in her mind and heart. As haunting as it was that someone had taken this picture without her father knowing, this photo was priceless – a rare treasure she would keep safe now it was in her possession.

Things are about to get a whole lot better, she told herself with an acknowledging nod. You’re finally going to get the answers you need, and at the very least, learn exactly who it was that saved you, so you can thank them.

She rolled her eyes at her train of thought, which had been recklessly all over the place since she’d left Sydney. If she didn’t get out of her old Jimny soon, her mind-train was going to run off its tracks. Idle hands, idle thoughts. If only she could wholeheartedly believe this trip up north was going to be the closure she’d needed for fifteen long years. But it was hard to deem plausible when she had no idea what she was about to walk into. And to hide who she was from whoever it was she was about to cross paths with was – well, it was out-and-out weird. Would she be able to figure out who’d been the one to send the note, if she came face to face with the writer of it? Then again, what if it was some cruel prankster sending her on some wild goose chase? Or what if she was about to be brutally murdered by the same underground organisation that had, for some unknown reason, killed her family?

What if. What if. What if …

Argh, stop it, Millie, before you drive yourself insane!

The highway stretched on, rising upwards and over the hazy horizon. Longing to be at the end of her journey but afraid of her destination, Millie stretched out her neck in a bid to ease the knots from her shoulders. Although nervous, she was keen to get to this place called Riverside Acres, which she’d discovered, after googling the heck out of it with Ebony, was in the small coastal township of Banshee Bay, a forty-minute drive north from Cairns. Leaving the morning of the day before, she had driven until the segmented white lines of the highway had turned into one long line. It was then, and only then, she’d decided to call Ebony and tell her she was pulling into a roadside motel for the night to get some much-needed shut-eye, to her friend’s, and her own, relief. After devouring a greasy burger and over-salted chips from the takeaway store next door to the motel, she’d fallen into the firm motel bed and slept harder than she had in forever. Her alarm had woken her at 4 am sharp, and she’d been back on the road for almost twelve hours now.

Almost there.

With relentless North Queensland sunshine beating down upon her windscreen, and her air conditioner on its last legs, she turned it up as high as it would go and angled the air vents towards her face. Leaning forwards, she savoured the blast of coolish breeze while trying to ignore the trickle of sweat rolling down her back and between her breasts. Then, feeling somewhat cooler, she grabbed her water bottle and guzzled the last of it. Tossing the empty bottle to the passenger floor, amid Mintie wrappers, she kept her attention pinned to the increasingly winding road.

The rich green fields of sugar cane with pink fairy-floss tops that had been flashing past her for almost half an hour finally gave way to rugged mountainsides with sheer drops that appeared to dive into the frothy waves of the turquoise water beneath. It was hard to keep her eyes away from the unblemished beauty of it all. Then as she turned a sharp bend, a picture-perfect postcard-worthy panorama welcomed her from the wide frame of her windscreen. The sight of the secluded palm-fringed seashore with golden sand and aqua-green water lapping at the coastline stole her breath. This stretch of untainted paradise was even more stunning than the pictures her laptop had shown. She craved to pull up, race down to the shoreline, dive into the impossibly blue water and swim to her heart’s content, but no way was she going to risk being eaten alive by a crocodile or stung by a jellyfish. There were so many things in Far North Queensland that were hell-bent on killing you and she wasn’t going to be risking making the headlines of the local newspaper anytime soon.

Her navigation forewarned that she’d be turning left in three hundred and sixty-five metres. She eased off the accelerator, then reaching an intersection, turned off the highway and towards Banshee Bay. A few hundred metres down the road, a slight knocking noise caught her attention and she spotted a thin spiral of smoke coming from beneath the bonnet.

And where there was smoke …

Noooooooo!

After pulling to the side of the road as quickly as she could, she shoved her door open and leapt from the driver’s side. Coupled with a hissing noise, the smoke intensified, thickened, quickened. With her panic rising, she tore over to the opposite side of the road, out of harm’s way, one hand over her sprinting heart and the other covering her open mouth. Seconds passed into a minute, as her mind raced and her eyes blurred. She roughly wiped away two stubborn tears that had rolled down her cheeks. This was no time to be crying. She needed to pull herself together and make a game plan. Up above, Mother Nature appeared to be mimicking her nosediving spirits as the rumble of thunder sounded in the not-too-far distance. She noted that the sun was no longer beating down upon her, and shadows were quickly stretching across the tropical scenery surrounding her. There wasn’t a house in sight. Nor had any cars rumbled past. She was broken down in the middle of nowhere, with nobody to ask for help, and to top it all off, it was going to pelt down with rain. Just her damn luck. Glaring at the darkening sky, she screamed out a myriad of swear words. A cow in the paddock nearest her lifted its head, eyeing her impassively while chewing its cud.

‘What?’ she called out to it, her hands in the air.

Of course she didn’t receive a response.

Groaning, she turned back to her Jimny, and finally saw the problem for what it was. And she instantly felt like an idiot. It was steam, not smoke. The old beast had overheated. She wasn’t defying death by standing here, yelling at a cow. She was just in her regular ongoing mess of a life, watching the next setback on her crazy agenda unfolding. She needed to do something other than standing here, feeling sorry for herself. Because soon, by the looks of the dark clouds eating up the last of the blue, she was going to add getting drenched through to the skin to her list of hindrances. So, stomping back to her Jimny with newfound determination, she tugged the bonnet open and stared into the steamy abyss of the unknown. Not mechanically minded in the slightest, she had no clue what to do next, but she’d just have to wing it. Otherwise, she may end up stuck out here all night. And after watching Wolf Creek too many times, there was no way in hell she wanted that.

***

With Tommy having disappeared bang on the 2 pm closing time, Jarrah and his two long-serving waitresses, twin sisters Jenny and Penny, had done the clearing up. It was four by the time they’d finished – an hour later than usual. Even though he was miffed Tommy hadn’t done the right thing by staying to help with end-of-shift duties, he decided to leave his nephew to his sulking until later. Or maybe tomorrow. It was probably a good idea for him to calm down before what was going to be an uncomfortable conversation anyway. So, instead, he headed into town with Scruff as his happy passenger, to put up a notice at the local shop saying that he was looking for a new cook, pronto.

With the gloomy sky having split open half an hour earlier, the tropical storm hadn’t eased, and the heavy downpour was making it hard for him to see the road. This trip into town was going to take him a little longer than expected. Slowing as he approached a cattle grid, he then turned right. Just up ahead, he spotted a little jeep-looking car with its hazard lights flashing. Turning the stereo down, he eased off the accelerator and went down a gear. Checking his rear-vision mirror, he made sure he didn’t have anyone travelling too closely behind him. Indicating, he then began to pull to the side of the road. The older style Jimny four-wheel drive was parked up on the shoulder, and from what he could see, there was nobody inside. Rolling past the front end, he spotted a very nice butt captured in a pair of diamante-studded denim shorts, with the woman’s head hidden beneath the open bonnet. It was all he could do to respectfully drag his eyes from the pleasant sight.

He looked to Scruff, who was getting antsy beside him. ‘You stay put, mister, or there’ll be trouble, okay.’ Then he rolled his window down, copping a spray of raindrops to his face as he called out, ‘Hey there, do you need a hand?’

Caught unawares, the petite woman bumped her head then unfurled from where she was tinkering. ‘Ouch, damn it.’ She spun to him while rubbing her head, a shifter clutched tightly in her hand. ‘I didn’t hear you pull up.’ Not moving a muscle now, she stared him down.

With buttercream blonde hair, rosy full lips, and womanly curves in all the right places, her natural beauty momentarily struck Jarrah speechless. She was striking in a very ethereal kind of way. Then, before he had a chance to say a single word, a sense of familiarity whacked him fair and square in the chest, and he had to take a quick breath to recover. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.’ Thank god he’d finally found words.

She half-smiled. ‘Of course you didn’t.’ The blowing rain had drenched her to the skin, and her blue T-shirt clung to her.

‘Engine troubles?’ he said, unable to stop staring at her.

‘Hmm …’ With her half-smile turning a little cheeky, she wiped locks of long, wet hair from her face, succeeding in smearing grease all over her cheeks. ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’