Page 102 of Seduction Under the Southern Stars

We say goodbye and return to our car. Once we’re in, we turn to each other and laugh.

“I can’t believe it,” I say. “After all this time.”

Linc pulls out his phone. “Let’s see if we can find Maureen Lyttle.”

He searches the White Pages, but it doesn’t come up with anything. I do a general Google, and we spend ten minutes trying different things, but to no avail.

“That’s frustrating,” I say eventually.

“There could be hundreds of reasons for it,” Linc says. “She could have gotten divorced and be using her maiden name now.”

“Or maybe she moved to another town.”

“Or died.”

I roll my eyes. “Well, yes, let’s look on the bright side.”

“I’m just saying. Maureen isn’t a young person’s name.”

“Don’t be ageist.”

“I’m not. It’s a lovely name. But I bet you don’t find many women under seventy called it.”

I try not to laugh. Then I give a big sigh. “So that’s it? The trail’s gone cold?”

Linc purses his lips. He studies me for a moment. Then he says, “Come on. Let’s go and get some breakfast.”

He drives back into the town and parks by the river, and we wander up Buckingham Street, then turn into a small mall with a cobbled square and find a café. We’re both hungry, so we order two big breakfasts with coffee.

It’s a small café, a little dark and claustrophobic inside. Linc spots me looking around a tad nervously, takes my hand, and leads me to a table outside.

I sit opposite him, in the dappled shade cast by a tree that seems to be growing right out of the cobbles and give him a relieved smile. “Thank you for that.”

“No worries.” He leans forward, forearms on the table, and tips his head at me. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Did you sleep well, apart from the nightmare?”

“I did, actually.”

“I didn’t notice you checking the locks in the hotel room.”

I shrug, playing with one of the sugar packets. “I felt safe with you there.”

He doesn’t reply. Eventually I look up. He’s studying me, head resting on his hand. He’s wearing his sunglasses, so I can’t see his eyes.

“I’ve got an idea,” he says. “About Maureen.”

“Oh?”

“It takes about four hours to get to Milford Sound from here. That’s a long drive. But my cruise calls in there before it heads off back to Oz.”

My eyes widen. “Oh, of course! Do you think you’d have time to ask around, see if you can track her down?”

He lifts his sunglasses up onto his hair. His expression is guarded, so I can’t tell what he’s thinking. But he says, “Why don’t you come with me?”

I stare at him. “Do you mean meet you at Milford Sound?”

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